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babysizedfics · 1 month ago

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Gem's Baby Hair Salon

Summary:

Little Gem gets bored and convinces her big-brother-slash-babysitter Etho to play hairdresser with her. She didn’t realise he liked hair strokes so much he would regress younger than her; but she’s definitely not complaining if she gets to be the protective big sister to a baby Etho, finally!

Word count: 2.5k

Also on AO3!

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Gem sighed dramatically.

“Don’t cry yet, Gem, we’re not even near the end,“ Etho teased.

He was referring to the movie they were currently watching—in torturous silence.

They’d been left to their own devices at Impulse’s base while he and Skizz got some chores done before dinnertime. Being a family weekend, Gem had been indulging in her littlespace all day, though Etho hadn’t been so ready to give in. His loss.

Stuck on babysitting duty, he’d put on a kid’s film—Luca—thinking it would keep Gem entertained. He wasn’t the most observant babysitter, Gem realised.

She had started getting antsy and bored halfway through, not used to being so still. And she was pretty sure she’d lasted at least five minutes since that feeling started, so she thought she was being very mature actually! Happy with her attempt, she swung her feet down from Etho’s lap and stood up. Approaching the toy chest she shared with Grian (and Etho really, though he was adamant he didn’t use the toys), she rifled through the contents and—after an internal deliberation—took out a sparkly Barbie hairbrush. She turned back brandishing the mere 1-inch toy between two fingers to see her brother smiling fondly.

“You wanna play, Gemmy?“ Etho asked in a cutesy voice.

He had no idea what was coming, she thought impishly.

Gem flopped back on the couch, shoulder to shoulder with Etho, and gave him the best puppy dog eyes of her life.

Familiar with her brand of little chaos, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What? What do you want from me?“ his voice was appropriately sceptical.

Gem’s lips pulled into a mischievous smile. “Well—“

“No, I’m not being the Ken in your Barbie game again… you make them make out too much for it to not be weird,“ Etho said carefully, a twist of disgust in his tone.

“Nooo, I didn’t want to play with the Barbies,“ Gem said, dropping her chin to his shoulder and intensifying the puppy dog act with a convincing pout. “Can we play hairdresser?“ She immediately grabbed his arm as Etho started pulling away. “Please? I promise I won’t give you the Impulse Special—“ tiny pigtails, glittery butterfly clips, satin bows, the whole shebang “—just a brush and braids.“

Etho gave her a withering look.

“Just a brush, no braids?“ she bargained with a charming toothy grin.

The softening of his glare was enough confirmation for her; he had just unwittingly booked an appointment at the best hair salon on the server! With a squeak of joy, she clambered to sit atop the back of the couch before he could change his mind. Legs framing his torso, she eagerly pulled his shoulders back so she could reach his head.

“Thank you, big brother,“ she sang, surveying his tousled hair.

“Just be gentle…“ he warned.

When she tried to part it down the middle some strands knotted together instantly. At her persistent tug, Etho sucked a pained breath through his teeth.

“Sorry, sorry!“ Gem hurried to apologise, dropping the white strands to inspect the job first. “It’s just really messy back here.“

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I combed it…“ he mumbled, tensing his shoulders.

No kidding! It was pretty hard for short, straight hair to get tangled (she would know as a professional play hairdresser), but it was clear Etho had neglected his hair for a while. This was a job the Barbie brush wasn’t up to.

“Hold on, lemme go get something.“ Gem clumsily shuffled down from her perch and skipped toward the hallway.

“No pretty stuff, Gem!“ his yell followed her.

Gem rolled her eyes at Etho’s paranoia and drawled back, “No, Mr Fragile Masculinity, I wouldn’t dream of it; just getting a real brush.“

She stuck to her promise mostly, only choosing to grab the detangling spray last minute.

Etho predictably locked eyes on the pink bottle instantly upon her return. “What’s that?“

“It makes your hair wet to help comb it,“ she explained coolly, putting her hands on her hips as she learnt from Pearl. Then added a fib for good measure: “It’s just water. Now are you gonna let me brush your dumb hair or are you gonna be a baby about it?“

That shut him up nicely. He shuffled further back into the couch cushions and landed his gaze back on the TV.

“Fine,“ he grumbled, pretending to have a sudden interest in the film. Though he was unable to resist adding, “It’s not dumb, it’s cool…“

Cleverly choosing not to comment on the peek of a blush above his mask, Gem resituated herself behind him.

“And this is meant to be a fun game, Etho. At least try to pretend you’re not you.“ The resulting elbow shoving into her shin was more painful than she let on. “Excuse me, sir! We don’t take this kind of abuse at our establishment!“

There was a light chuckle from her customer. “Okay, okay—since you’re being such a professional about it,“ Etho conceded. “I apologise for my behaviour, Miss.“

“Finally, some respect around here! Now sit still.“

“I am.“

“Nu-uh, you got the wiggles,“ Gem pointed out. He always got them when he was anxious. The aforementioned wiggles stopped.

With a nod to herself, she got to work on spritzing Etho’s hair generously.

“Gem!“ Etho whined after just a few seconds.

“What now?“ Gem squeaked in offense, throwing her hands up dramatically.

“You said it was water, why does it smell like product?“

Gem giggled despite herself. “Well, technically all hair products are mainly water. It’s just water with a bunch of other stuff in it, probably. And it’s strawberry-scented!“

Trust Etho the all-natural-food-freak to have an issue with that. As he complained about fake smelling strawberry products, she paid him no mind and split some strands with her fingers. (Apart from when he complained about her strawberry toothpaste—that was personal and warranted a short argument.) It was much easier to coax the knots apart now, but she had to concentrate so as not to hurt him. She thoroughly prided herself on how gentle she was when taking care of people’s hair!

After a minute or two of careful work, she got pulled out of her focus when Etho made a soft hum.

“All good?“ she checked, ceasing her movements.

“Oh, um, yeah.“ Etho readjusted himself to sit straight—only then did Gem notice he had been slowly relaxing down in his seat.

“Nice and relaxed there?“ she giggled, stroking her fingernails across his scalp as a tease.

Etho actually sighed, instantly sinking back into the cushions again. “Mhm.“

With a fond shake of her head, Gem continued her work. A smile stayed on her face with the knowledge her brother was actually enjoying one of her games for once. Even if he was pretty passive in the play part of it.

Happy that knots weren’t going to be an issue anymore, she picked up the brush.

“And now for the main part of your treatment today, Sir,“ Gem announced very seriously, gently guiding his head to tilt to the right. He was completely pliable to it.

As soon as the plastic bristles stroked across his scalp, Gem actually felt a shiver coast through Etho’s body. As if the high pitched whine he muffled wasn’t enough.

“Oh my gosh, Etho!“ She couldn’t help the surprised laugh.

“What?“ he bit back—too hasty, too defensive, too squeaky.

“Nothing, nothing…“ she giggled. A lot of people had a tingly reaction to people touching their hair, Gem just didn’t think Etho would be one of them. Especially not such a reactive one at that.

“You just try and enjoy your spa treatment, okay? I know it’ll be hard for such a tough guy like you,“ she teased with another gentle pull of the brush through his damp hair.

“Feels nice…“ Etho admitted after a couple more brushes. And was it just the relaxation, or did his voice become just a bit small?

Gem’s smirk turned soft on her. She brought her free hand up to adjust his head position, and left it there for support when she noticed how ragdoll it had become.

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?“

Idly, while still brushing with her other hand, Gem softly trailed two fingers behind and around Etho’s ear then back again.

The man shuffled, pulling his legs up onto the couch and hugging his knees to his chest. A clear tell. Then his head lolled to the side, dropping on her knee. The wetness of his hair made an instant cold, damp patch on her overalls.

“Nu-uh, I can’t work like this!“ she scolded gently. At his little groan, she eased his head back up with her hand. “C’mon, cutie, you can do it,“ she encouraged in a light, bubbly voice.

“Gem…“ Etho whined, immediately shrinking into himself in embarrassment.

“What?“ she challenged with a distinct scribble of her fingernail on his scalp. Was that a whimper? She was far too smug for her own good; what excellent ammunition this would be in future!

“You’re bein’... big,“ he argued weakly.

“You’re being little. If you’re gonna go baby on me I have to use my babysitting voice. Them's the rules,“ Gem reasoned with a shrug he couldn’t see. The brushing went on.

“I’m not…“ Etho belatedly mumbled into his knees. There was no way he could believe himself with how small his voice was.

“Sure you’re not,“ Gem humoured gently.

The rest of his treatment went by peacefully. In all honesty, it only had to take five minutes to get Etho’s hair smooth and totally knot-free. But Gem gave him what she now deemed to be the Etho Special; very slow and gentle brushing, with an extra ten minutes of tiny strokes with the Barbie brush along his hairline. That’s where most of his reactions came from, she learned.

The result of those reactions being she was now stuck with a baby in denial snuggling her leg like it was a stuffie. She allowed it until the end of the movie (wiping her couple of tears away in secret), then wiggled her foot a little against Etho’s hold when the credits rolled.

“Alright, lemme down you big softie.“ He did release her leg—albeit with a whine under his breath—and she easily slid back down to the seat beside him. “Your hair is super pretty now,“ she promised, opening her arms to invite him for a cuddle.

Etho was never one to turn down a cuddle, instantly scooching hip-to-hip with her and hugging her torso without a word. In his apparent shyness, he ducked his head down and hid his face against her shoulder. She giggled at his intense snuggliness and let her arms wrap around him protectively. With an overwhelm of adoration, she placed a kiss on his still-damp head. She got a whiff of the strawberry spray.

“Mm, and it smells pretty too! Happy with it?“

His hair tickled her neck a bit when he nodded. “Thank you,“ he said, and his voice was oh-so very tiny and light, a pitch higher than usual.

“Aww,“ Gem couldn’t stop herself from squealing slightly. “You’re so welcome, baby brother!“

Etho squeezed her tighter, likely to cope with being called a baby. Similar to squishing a stress toy. She decided she was fine being his stress toy if it meant she got to be the big sister again!

“Thank you for playing with me,“ Gem said earnestly, voice gentle to match Etho’s subdued state. “I really love it when you join in my games.“

“I know.“ Etho scrunched his fist in Gem’s baggy jumper. Then he added quietly: “Me too…“

There was no negotiation needed for them both to settle into the cuddle—just a quick selection of another Disney movie by Gem, this time Winnie-the-Pooh to match Etho’s younger headspace.

Likewise, there was no talking needed to fill the calm silence, no plans for more games, no need to call in Skizz or Impulse. Gem was perfectly capable of taking care of her ‘big brother’ all alone. Especially going by how easily she had him dropping off to sleep.

All it took was her hand back in his hair and before long Etho’s knees had slumped from his chest to Gem’s lap. Once she noticed his breathing had slowed and deepened considerably, Gem felt a swelling sense of pride in her chest. The rumours were true, she was powerful! Even in this small way.

Even if Etho might not have been able to feel it anymore, she found herself not wanting to stop the gentle caresses of his scalp. His hair was considerably softer now and satisfying to run her fingers through. Plus, the fact her touch alone had encouraged Etho into his rare babyspace pleased her and she honestly wanted it to last longer.

She was aware Etho probably needed to be this little far more often than he allowed himself, and took it upon herself to push him there whenever she could. It was pretty easy for the most part, but her usual tactics didn’t work every single time. She reckoned because he was such a stubborn worry-wart! Even then, when he did sink anywhere near the vicinity of Baby—as much as he would deny that fact after—it was usually Skizz or Impulse who swooped in and snatched her brother from her grasp. Gem always wanted to take care of him when he was so small, especially when she herself was little, but their caregivers acted like she was irresponsible or too hyper or something! Not like she could easily and happily come out of her littlespace to be in babysitting mode, especially for her beloved brother.

Now that she had baby Etho all to herself, dropping off as she cradled him in her arms, a deep sense of calm washed over her. She even felt her eyes get heavier by the minute, lulled into sleepiness by his breaths like the ocean tide. Inevitable as it was, her fingers slowed and stopped stroking with her tiredness. Her eyes fell shut heavily. She gently rested her head atop his, feeling him stir just a little.

“Shh, go back to sleep, baby,“ she hushed him with a comforting squeeze.

He snuggled further into her hold with a little noise in his throat.

“Big sister’s got you,“ she whispered, faintly hoping he wouldn’t argue. It was only met with a content sigh. She smiled in tired triumph, body going limp.

Etho’s chest rose as hers sank, and vice versa; their breath falling into a gentle tandem.

“I got you,“ Gem repeated, slurring with sleep.

Etho’s responding squeeze was the last thing she remembered before they both fell into a serene slumber.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Reblogs, comments, and asks are very appreciated! ♡

Also on AO3!

#gem's baby hair salon #hermitcraft agere #life series agere #little etho #agere etho #little gem #agere gem #babysitter gem #little etho grian and gem series #agere fic

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th3-c0ll3ct3r · 9 months ago

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With MCC pride coming up, I feel as if I need to state the obvious for some people

*taps mic*

THERE MAY BE STRAIGHT CONTENT CREATOR BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE ENOUGH SPACES FILLED WITH LGBTQIA+ ONES

"But what about *insert name* why didn't they get in?"

1. THE NOXCREW AND SMAJOR DIDN'T KNOW WHO THEY WERE AT THE TIME

2. IF THEY'VE ALREADY CONFIRMED A BENCHED PLAYER TO PLAY, THEN THEY AREN'T GOING TO GO BACK ON THERE WORDS AND RUIN SOMEONE'S DAY FOR YOUR SAKE... grow up-

3. AS MENTIONED IN THE SKIZZ & IMPULSESV PODCAST, SCOTT SMAJOR HAS A WAITING LIST FOR MCC! MEANING THEY COULD BE ON THE LIST BUT JUST DIDN'T MAKE IT THIS YEAR

4. INCOMPATIBILITY WITH OTHER PLAYERS

5. MCC PRIDE REPRESENTS ALOT MORE THEN THE AVERAGE MCCS, AND THEY WOULD TEND TO PICK SOMEONE THEY KNOW AND WHO IS RELIABLE TO PROMOTE THE CHARITIES THEY'RE SUPPORTING! MEANING THAT YOUR FAVOURITE CC! COULD BE IN A NON-PRIDE EVENT THIS YEAR/NEXT YEAR, TO BUILD TRUST AND RAPPORT, SO THAT SMAJOR AND NOXCREW ARE CONFIDENT THEY DON'T FUCK IT UP

6. JUST BECAUSE YOU KNOW THEM DOESN'T MEAN EVERYONE ELSE KNOWS THEM! YOU CAN BRING IT TO THERE ATTENTION AND THEY'LL LOOK INTO IT BUT THERES A WAITING LIST AND THEY MAY NOT TURN UP FOR A WHILE

And 7. Wanting someone familiar with the charities and what they represent as well as the importance of the event, and having confidence that their attitude during this event will be as they've displayed as, in the past, THIS BEING RESPECTFUL, IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING‼️

You do not know what a content creator does behind the screens and maybe your favourite content creator won't be there because they do things that the Noxcrew, Scott Smajor or the charities do not like or would not feel comfortable with/they're in a bit of a pickle but it's none of their business

Everyone's input is just as important as other as Noxcrew/smajor co-own MCC and the charities they will be representing are putting themselves on the line to ensure support for people in the future. They reach out to the MCC crew for support, not pain!

You're not being forced to watch one particular content creator, so if you don't like them you can move on bestie

Additionally don't be hating on other for playing. No one is having you chained to a chair to watch Sapnap or idk some other person. You don't have to watch there POVs and can just watch another. It's not that deep bestie.

*...drops mic...*

#MCC #mcc season 4 #Mcc pride #mc championship #noxcrew #scott smajor #smajor1995 #mcyt #lgbtq community #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lgbt pride #charities

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year ago

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45 and flower husbands (or maybe emberfrost/snowbugs :eyes:) for the ask game!

breath from death

summary:

“Oh, love…” the sheer agony in Scott’s voice is enough to make Tango crack his eyes open, watery from his subsequent coughing fits, tears continuing to bead up as he tries to bring Scott’s shape into focus. When he does, he almost wishes he hadn’t, having to resist the urge to recoil from the way Scott is looking at him.

(ao3 link)

(2,473 words)

hdjsk this was meant to be more angsty than it actually was,, i just made tango into a bit of a loser tbh. but! hope you enjoy the snowbugs (i can't lie the only reason i wrote them is bc i loved the name hdsjhsjk). did i see scott gift tango a heart and go a little silly? yes. yes i did

also! if you liked this and want to send in another request the list of prompts is here! i've got a lotta free time at the moment, so i'll definitely be writing stuff a lot more than i have been recently

“Ooh, Skizz really wasn’t lying, hm?”

Tango glances up at the voice, not even bothering to lean away from the bush he’s made himself a comfy spot against. Or as comfy as he can be when every part of him is in burning pain and agony. But the slight slouch he’s found himself in puts the least amount of pressure on his various injuries and maladies, and so is the most comfortable he can be right now.

“Scott,” he croaks out, wincing a little at how terrible his voice really sounds. He’d been spitting smoke earlier, angry with how much energy it was taking to simply haul himself to his feet. It’s left him with the inside of his mouth covered in ash, and his throat feeling like it’s been rubbed raw. “Good to see you could make it.”

Skizz is somewhere nearby, but not close enough to interrupt if Scott decided he wanted to put him out of his misery right here and now. He’s somewhat caught between being thankful for such a thing, and angry that he couldn’t go on any further.

He’d just be another footnote at the end of a book, another mention; a small aside, make sure to mention the one that almost dies in the most silent and insignificant ways.

He is well aware of his previous contributions to these games. He goes out with barely a sound, and the world carries on without him, continues to spin round and round, maybe a few choosing to mourn him. Be sad over the misfortune of his death, how easily such a thing could have been prevented.

He doesn’t even realise he’s breathing smoke again until Scott coughs, waving a hand in front of his face to waft the smoke away. Tango snaps his jaw shut almost immediately, muttering a quiet “sorry” when Scott continues to cough.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Rough day?”

“You could say that,” he stretches his back out, wincing as it tugs at the edges of unhealed injuries. A stray branch from within the cherry blossom bush scraping a hot line of agony across his spine. He curls inwards on himself with a hiss of pain, tears beading in his eyes at the sudden sting of all his injuries making their protests known.

The small relief from earlier, afforded to him by other servermates, swayed by Skizz’s plea for a small gift of love, a small act of mercy. A better act of mercy would be to put him out of his misery entirely, he thinks humourlessly.

“Hey, c’mon, you're just making this worse for yourself,” a hand lays over the back of his own hand, slowly encircling it before pulling it away. The movements are done with such delicacy, such gentleness, it’s as though he’s made of an extremely fragile glass. Like he’d break if the hands moved him too fast, that he’d shatter into a thousand pieces.

Maybe he would. He feels about ready to fall apart right now, anyway.

“See,” the person – Scott, it’s still Scott, he’s still here, Tango realises belatedly – breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s much better. Now, where has your teammate gotten off to?”

“He, agh,” he coughs again, a small curl of smoke rolling off his tongue as he hacks, one or both his lungs threatening to make an appearance as he doubles over again, stomach cramping with the force of his coughs. “He went to get some resources, something to better survive the next few hours.”

“He didn’t stay with you?”

“The idiot would have,” he scoffs, laughing slightly. He then has to cough again, appreciating Scott’s gentle stroking over the top of his shoulders. He’s nowhere near as warm as Tango himself is, the fire stoked within his core happily blazing away, despite the disrepair of the rest of his body. “I made him leave. I’m dead either way. My death will be nothing to gasp and cry over, better he’s not around when it does happen.”

When he does, he almost wishes he hadn’t, having to resist the urge to recoil from the way Scott is looking at him. His hand is still lying over the top of Tango’s shoulders gently, though no longer stroking to soothe him through a coughing fit.

When Scott had turned up, looking down at him with those gleaming red eyes. Eyes that herald violence, promise it, Tango had willingly accepted his death. Would probably have stretched his arms out and taunted Scott for coming after someone when their guard is so far down that it’s ripped to shreds if even twitching his arms didn’t hurt so badly.

And then he’d just…stood there, crouched in front of him and comforted him as he coughed.

It’s his own fault that his lungs are in such a sorry state, anger over everything about these damn games making his flame burn too hot too quickly. He usually has better control over it, breathes fire for a party trick sometimes, not to clog his lungs with ash. Still, Scott had provided the comfort happily, despite them being on rival teams now, people that should be looking to kill each other. Not make sure that he can breathe and is comfortable and that his ally hasn’t abandoned him.

“Every death is worth shedding at least a tear over,” Scott tells him. His hands have migrated from his shoulders to cradling the back of his neck, now kneeling in front of him instead of crouching. Tango almost wants to tell him that he’ll stain his jeans with grass and mud; they may already be wrecked beyond repair, ripped in ways that aren’t purposeful and stained with old blood, but the thought still crosses his mind. “You’ve built good alliances here, love, there will be several tears shed over your death.”

“And a few oh, poor Tango, what a terrible way to go!’s following behind it,” he snorts without humour, only sparing a moment to be relieved when it doesn’t catapult him into another coughing fit. “The same way it goes every time,” he finishes, slightly bitter. It brings a sour taste to his mouth to think about his previous failures. His previous embarrassments.

He’s jolted from his self-pity party when Scott’s fingers twitch over the nape of his neck, making his efforts to ignore how Scott’s hands are currently resting against the back of his neck null and void. His efforts to ignore how the hands reach far enough round that Scott could easily strangle him. Could simply wrap tight and squeeze the last drops of life from him. Scott would definitely benefit from it, numerous superficial injuries littering his body that he’d probably be relieved to get rid of.

But Scott doesn’t grip to his neck tighter, doesn’t shove him to the ground and crush his windpipe. His hands remain a heavy, almost comforting, weight at the back of his neck. Their faces are close like this, he realises belatedly, the intimacy of such a thing settling over him suddenly and heavily. Like a weighted blanket’s just been chucked on his head. He feels a little unbalanced by such a realisation, even as close to death’s door as he currently is.

It makes an odd feeling wash over him, only increasing as Scott moves his hands, fingers tickling the short furs at the back of his neck. Can feel the way Scott’s thumb brushes over his pulse point – stupid, doesn’t he know that the thumb has a pulse? That you can’t measure someone else’s heartbeat with your thumb, as your own racing heart will interfere?

Scott’s pinky fingers ghost over his jaw as his hands retreat, and tango almost makes a pitiful sound in the back of his throat when he thinks Scott’s pulling away from him.

He’s glad he didn’t (really, really glad) when Scott’s hands still again, settling over his jaw, cradling his face gently between his palms.

He really is quite close now, close enough that Tango can take in the smudged state of his make-up, like Scott’s been rubbing his eyes and smearing it around the corners of his eyes. Or that he’s not reapplied it recently and he’s simply been wearing the same make-up for the past few days.

He’d given up on the stupid pink eyeliner and little hearts he’d draw on his own and the others’ faces ages ago, tired of reapplying it every morning, wasting precious time that could be spent doing other things. More important things.

Scott’s make-up still looks good, though, smudged the way it is.

“I’ve always noticed when you died,” Scott tells him. This close, he can see the pink flecks in Scott’s eyes. They almost match the shirt he chose to wear for this go-around, wanting to fit better with the whole vibe they had going on at the Heart Foundation prior to its burning. “Kinda hard not to, when you're checking your comm every few minutes and hoping it’s not one of your allies that’s just died.”

“Oh,” he says, maybe a little dumbly. So sue him! He’s not sure what to say to a man very close to his face, still looking pretty despite his smudged make-up, when he gets told that he always notices him.

Yeah, some snide part of his brain comments, always notices when you make a fool of yourself and die in the most humiliating way possible.

“Oh,” Scott repeats, snickering a little. It makes his shoulders shake, meaning Tango’s face is wobbling a little because Scott’s still holding his face, cradling him carefully like he’s some delicate thing to be treasured.

Man, he’s glad Skizz hasn’t made a reappearance yet. He’s not sure how he’d explain his current everything to him with a straight face. Skizz would probably laugh at him until he cries.

“What else do you want me to say to that!” he protests, a little embarrassed at his slightly lacklustre response. “Thanks, I notice every time you die too – I'm always dead at that point! I can’t notice.”

“No, no,” Scott shakes his head, brushing one of his thumbs over the paper-thin skin beneath his eye. The motion makes him shiver, something weird, but not unfamiliar or unwelcome, curl down and around his spine. He shudders again. “I’m just teasing you, love, promise.” His eyes twinkle with mirth, “Would you believe me if I told you I came here with kind intentions?”

“Not at all,” Tango says, half-joking. “You’ve only been mean to me so far.”

“Aw, I'm hurt!” Scott cries, eyes crinkling as he grins. “I saw Skizz’s, uh, plea for help on your behalf and thought I might as well pop over and give you a little boost.”

“Oh, really?” He perks up at that. A few people have been by already, each giving him a small boost. To think he was in an even worse state as the sun rose that morning is somewhat horrifying to think about. It’s a miracle he even managed to have a coherent conversation with Skizz as their day began. “Well, c’mon then! Don't leave poor ol’ me waiting.”

“Okay, okay,” Scott laughs again, a little quieter. “God, you tell someone you're about to give them something, and it’s all they can think about.”

“All I can think about is how much pain I'm currently in,” Tango jokes.

He realises that the joke didn’t quite land as he intended when Scott’s face doesn’t continue to crease with smile lines, instead dropping into something sadder. “Well,” he says confidently, “I can fix that real quick for you, love.”

And then Scott’s leaning and Tango’s floundering, because, sure, he’s kissed people before. For definite. Kissed people plenty of times, actually! But he never quite knows what to do with his hands, nevermind the fact that he can barely even lift his hands right now.

Scott seems comfortable taking the initiative, giving him a chaste peck on the lips, warm hands continuing to cradle his face gently, before pulling back just as quickly as he’d moved in.

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied. “All better?”

“I – yeah. Thanks,” he manages. He mentally fist pumps when his voice doesn’t wobble and he doesn’t immediately chase after Scott with significantly less achy limbs than a few moments before. “That’s really appreciated, thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Scott says, wiping a little around his bottom lip, clearing away some of the smudged make-up there. “Always glad to help!” He chirps, then stands. “Well, I’ll be seeing you around, hopefully not at the other end of my sword!”

“Hopefully not,” Tango agrees. Really hopefully not because he’ll probably just stand there like an idiot and think about how soft Scott’s lips are, and the way they’d slotted against his own, and-

The clearing of a throat above him has him blinking his eyes open, squinting a little at the figure silhouetted by the sun.

“See you had a little visitor,” Skizz tells him, sounding far too smug for someone that probably only saw Scott walk away. Tango’s sheltered where he sits, so even if Skizz was on his way back while…all that happened, there’s no way he actually saw anything.

“I- what? Oh, Scott, yeah. He gave me a heart.”

“See he gave you a little something else, too.”

What?

“What?” He asks, sitting up slightly, hissing under his breath as his cracked ribs forcefully remind him that they're still cracked. “What d’you mean?”

“You got a little something,” Skizz says, “around here.”

And gestures around his mouth.

Tango wipes at his lip with his thumb, cringing when it comes away stained with make-up. Make-up that everyone has seen Scott wearing recently.

“Oh, wow, haha,” he laughs, not at all amused. “How’d that get there.”

“How indeed,” Skizz says, obviously already knowing, the dick. “Maybe we should ask the whole server, see if they can help us solve this mystery.”

“No!” Tango throws himself upwards as Skizz goes to retrieve his comm, smacking his hands away frantically. “No, no, I'm sure we can figure this out ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah. I'm sure we can.” Skizz says, and walks off. Still grinning.

Tango collapses back down to the ground, indulging his moment of dramatism even as it aggravates a few minor wounds.

Whatever shitty higher being watches over me now, he pleads, please strike me down before he comes back.

The shitty higher being watching over him decidedly does not strike him down, and Skizz comes back to laugh him again, though he brings a make-up wipe with him…maybe Tango can find it in his heart to forgive him. Eventually.

#juno.writes #asks #wren-kitchens #ask game #trafficshipping #snowbugs #emberfrost #scott smajor #tangotek #secret life smp #secret life spoilers #(slightly)#slsmp #secret life scott #secret life tango #traffic series #trafficblr #traffic smp

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pearlmcytshippingbracket · 5 months ago

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Thoughts on Mumpearl/Celestial Nonsense? They're just so- *froths at mouth*

Anon do you have any idea of what you just unleashed

God I love Mumpearl.

Because like, on the surface it’s awakward x confident. We see that with Mumbo telling Pearl he folds when complimented and Pearl immediately overloading him with compliments and getting him flustered. Imagining Mumbo being more unsure of himself and Pearl hyping him up as well or Pearl being an absolute girlboss and Mumbo being wowed

But here’s the thing that most people don’t know about MumPearl

Mumbo doesn’t know about Scarlet Pearl (I mean neither does Lizzie, Skizz or Gem but this ain’t about them)

Because when Mumbo turns red he immediately goes rouge and starts attacking the rest of the mounders and isolating himself in the radio tower (which, as a reminder,is above Pearl’s base) because he’s traumatised from the southlanders and last life. And the worst part is, Pearl knows EXACTLY what Mumbo’s going through.

She knows what it’s like to be alone and isolated and trapped in a tower and feel like you’re out of your mind and feel like no-one understands. She knows his pain too well but Mumbo doesn’t know that she knows. He only knows Pearl from last life, the one who got lucky, the one who’s always happy and ready to help, the only one with the stable alliance. He doesn’t think Pearl would understand BUT SHE DOES. She wanted Mumbo to remain allies with her, she mourned his death, she loved him but Mumbo just kept pushing away and— *actually explodes*

The fandom is sleeping on this ship I’m telling you, the storytelling potential is off the charts

(Also I’ve never seen anyone call them celestial nonsense before, it fits them)

#Pmsb asks #mumpearl #mcytshipping #shipping #Mumbo jumbo #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #hermit pearl #life series pearl #Trafficblr #hermitblr #life series #hermitcraft #2024

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whereispearlescentmoon · 3 months ago

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A third part to my currently nameless Hermit glitching fic

Part 1 Part 2

Skizz starts his day with wings he doesn’t normally have. Well, that’s not entirely true. He’s always got small, vestigial wings that have little sensation in them. The kind that he easily tucks under his shirt and that are absolutely useless for flying. Normally they’re so small that he barely registers them, at least not any more than someone registers their back.

Today when he woke up at his pyramid, he instead had massive fluffy white wings, and when he struggled to get a good look at them, he found that not could he feel them, he could lift off the ground with them. He nearly flew into his own roof. He was just about getting used to them when the news came over his com that there was a server wide glitch that was making everyone’s hybrid traits act up. Any Hermits still in their right mind were to report to X’s map room to strategize.

To his somewhat embarrassment, Skizz had to go to the meeting without a shirt on. None of his clothes were adapted for wings, and he couldn’t fit these under something like he normally would. He felt a little less alone in his awkwardness when he got there and found Pearl thumping a long wolf tail on the ground, only to lose her balance as the tail disappeared and goat horns sprouted from her forehead. Speaking of horns, where was Impulse? The imp was conspicuously absent from the meeting.

A very shaky X spoke to the group, telling them that a patch had gone wrong and that mob and animal code was currently taking precedent over player code for some reason. His voice was etherial, barely audible if not for the amplification of his helmet, and small tendrils of void smoke seeped out of the seams of his armor. As he finished speaking, he collapsed, Skizz rushing to collect his armor pieces and set them safely down. Luckily, or unluckily, X was no longer in the suit. In his place was a vague shape of void, almost like an end gateway.

“Alright…” X spoke from somewhere in the shape. “I’m not going to be able to do any wrangling myself it seems. I’m going to try and search through code the best I can like this. In the meantime, please try and contain the affected players. I don’t want anyone getting hurt,”

Skizz’s first thought was to go find Impulse. He was barely more imp than Skizz was celestial, he couldn’t be that affected right? He shot off a message in chat, just to check.

*You whispered to ImpulseSV: hey dippledop, where are you?*

Not a second later, his reply came:

*ImpulseSV whispered to you: In the nether. Can’t leave. Started to freeze in the overworld.*

*You whispered to ImpulseSV: ill come keep you company buddy!*

This turned out to be a lie however. The second Skizz stepped through his nether portal, an excruciating pain burned through his body. And burn was quite literal. He could see his flesh beginning to blacken and char, right before he succumbed to it.

*Skizzleman burned to death*

Skizz shot up in his bed, groaning. Ugh, this sucks. Stupid celestial stuff.

*Hypnotzd: You good?*

*Skizzleman: yeah, but I think someone else is gonna have to go after impulse. i got all burnt up*

*Keralis: I’ll get on it after I wrangle Scar away from Doc.*

*Welsknight: focus on that, I’ll deal with Impulse.*

*ImpulseSV: Sorry*

*Skizzleman: not a problem dude. can I help somewhere else?*

*Keralis: Yeah actually. False and Grian are going to tear Magic Mountain up and an elytra can’t keep up. Think your beautiful new wings can handle it?*

*Skizzleman: on it boss*

Alright. Flying. He can handle that, sure. It’s not like his wings are brand new and he’s still learning to use them and is now going to have to chase down two life long experienced fliers.

When he gets there, the situation isn’t quite as dire as Keralis put it. Theres definitely some damage, especially around Grian’s base, but the real issue isn’t any of the builds. Instead, Skizz finds the ground littered with colorful parrot feathers, all dotted with blood. If that wasn’t enough to find them, the powerful screeching overhead gives it away.

The second he enters the air space, False’s eyes are on him. Their blue is distinctly predatory, sizing him up, before in a moment deciding he isn’t food, or at least not worth eating, and turning her terrible focus back onto Grian. For once, Skizz laments not being even more bird like, as he watches the two fight with talons that are typical of Grian, but certainly new for False. Her’s are clearly sharper and more powerful than Grian’s, the weapons of a hunting bird. How is her supposed to break that up?

Grian is losing, and badly, and his squawks are turning into something more akin to screams. His banded wings are fluffed up to the max and missing patches of feathers. His sweater is torn to shreds, barely hanging on. Skizz has to act fast, if he wants to prevent Grian from dying in this state.

He reaches into his inventory for something useful, and thanks the void that he actually has some raw meat on him from the day before when he was testing saturation levels.

“Hey Falsie! Look! Doesn’t this look yummy?” He taunts, pulling out the raw food and flying in circles around the pair. False’s attention is once again pulled to him, and more specifically to the bloody meat in his hand. Honestly, he’s terrified, but it’s the best idea he has. He tosses it to the ground, in the hopes she’ll follow it.

It works, as she launches herself at food, giving Grian enough time to run off and hide somewhere in his base. Skizz has to act fast, and miraculously manages to get the drop on her, trapping her in a cobblestone box without getting hurt. She scratches at the inside of the box, shrieking powerfully. Skizz winces before pulling away.

“Sorry False! I had to do it!”

With that done, he can tend to Grian’s wounds, and ends up bringing him to where some of the other passive hybrids are, a small enclosure that Keralis set up near Scar’s train within walking distance. Doc is somewhere nearby, trapped in a similar box to the one that Skizz had gotten False in. Grian seems content enough to hang out there, even though he could fly away. He feels bad that False had to be locked away, but feels a little less bad when a death message pops up in chat.

*Pearlescentmoon was slain by [minecraft_entity:fox]*

It’s a bugged message, foxes can’t normally kill players. Either Gem or Etho got Pearl good, evidently. He shudders to think of what False might have done if she saw him as prey or a threat.

*Pearlescentmoon: Good news. Respawn works on feral hybrids. Zed had death loop scars.*

Well that would explain just how much blood was spilt around Grian’s base.

*Skizzleman: you okay pearliepop?*

*Pearlescentmoon: I’m gonna take a nap. The shifting has started again.*

*Xisuma: Tpin hrd. ned updts* (typing hard.need updates)

*Welsknight: Following Impulse’s cords, he got pretty far out.*

*Mumbo: Working on getting Cleo contained. Can confirm, respawn works on hostiles too. She keeps burning up before she can get to me*

*Hypnotzd: Jevin is being slippery but it shouldn’t take too long*

*Bdoubleo100: might need some help later with cub from pearl, but right now I’m focused on getting tango*

*Pearlescentmoon: Need some warden taming advice?*

*Bdoubleo100: always.*

*Xisuma: grt. tryn fix it. hrd wn hds g thrgh cms* (great, trying to fix it. hard when hands go through coms)

With nothing more to do, Skizz slides down in the enclosure and starts to film Joel and Scar playing. This is gonna make excellent blackmail.

#Skizzleman #falsesymmetry #grian #hermitcraft #fic #sorry if this isn’t great #it isn’t proofread lol

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autumnwhistles · 25 days ago

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Lyric Breakdown in my Last Life (mainly Martyn-centric) song, "Corners of the World"

youtube

'Abridged' version here, and longer analysis (ft. a lot of Martyn character analysis... and also the full lyrics I'm actually talking about) under the cut.

"I'll lie, double cross to best them all" is yet again a reference to a line from Martyn's Last Life teaser poem ("Surpass them all/Take friends for foes"), which was from the perspective of the Watchers (and was previously referenced by them in the first song, Middle of Nowhere). Martyn using this phrasing hints that the Watchers already hold some influence over him, hence the outline of the lyrics flashing purple in the video!

"Walls, corners, edges" is taken from Martyn's speech after Ren's beheading (as is the title of this song, for the same reason):

"You took me in when I was a lowly traveler, going across the land, searching the four corners of this world. I learned there was nothing in this world for me – nothing but walls, corners, edges. And you know what, you showed me life. As much as I’ve taken it from you, you gave it back to me in buckets’ fulls."

The point here is that, after the events of 3rd Life, Martyn's reverted back to that previous worldview. That life he was shown clearly meant something to him, but ultimately, its price was far too high. So now, he's deliberately separating himself from a mindset that would allow him to care too much about others and feel that same pain: the world is walls and edges; the people in it are figures to use for his own benefit, not to care about; the world does not hold those buckets' fulls of life. As we see with his reactions to the Southlands' fall, he doesn't really end up being successful in this (and it's a major topic of exploration throughout the musical) – but it doesn't mean he doesn't want or try to be.

Of course, the wordplay this verse ("You'll be cornered in the corners, and on edge in many more/And walls you'll build and walls you'll raise(/raze), and walls will fall in war") is to establish Martyn's strengths in that area. Getting the voice right is an important part of musical characterisation too!

"Keep it a void you're fighting for" is either dramatic irony or foreshadowing depending on how much you know of his lore. Martyn's only referring to not fighting for anyone else's sake here, but between the seasons the players do spend their time falling through the void (while unconscious) – regardless of whether they win or lose. By fighting to win, you are just fighting for that same void... which of course, Martyn doesn't know (because surely winning means something). If he knew nothing changes after you win, the incentive to win would be much weaker, and I'd argue we do see that in c!Martyn post-Limited Life. But despite his cynicism and distrust, he's still naïve to this particular cruelty of the world... :) i mean lore-wise if you win a fragment of your soul does get protected but 1) no bearing on last life and so on this musical whatsoever, and 2) how is c!martyn supposed to know that even after his win

"Careful with the name you pick/Don't want it to get flamed" is (as the editing hopefully makes clear) a pun – 'you don't want your name to be made fun of', and 'your tree fort is flammable'. This is again meant to establish Martyn's quick wit as well as progressing the song/storyline, and as well as showing us him messing with people, which he very much likes to do! (I am also aware Cleo was the one who informed Lizzie, but I had to streamline various things for the sake of the medium – this is both a Martyn character establishment song and an intro to the world and various figures in it, so it's easier if Martyn is the one who introduces that to those figures (and for us to get more information about Martyn based on how he interacts with them). And Lizzie's reaction to that information was something I wanted to keep in)

Of course Skizz and Etho were in the Red Army too, Martyn's just being cheeky/faking indignation here (if there'd been space, I'd have given Skizz a line of protest, but from a musical standpoint I preferred the instant transition into Scar's section). But guys.... BEST/Dogwarts parallels... guys.....

"(...)I'll lead, not play a pawn"/"(...)little pawn" (sung simultaneously, the first by Martyn and the second by the Watchers) is a callback to the first song, Middle of Nowhere, in which there's a section of randomised lives being given out. The first line there is "Four for the traitor, four for the pawn", and this confirms/establishes 'the pawn' as referring to Martyn (referencing what he's treated as by the Watchers). Note that here Martyn's desire 'to lead' refers to being in control of his actions and not deferring to anyone, not specifically to leading an alliance. Of course, Martyn's part is full of dramatic irony on his behalf :)

Those are the 'flashier' lines and word choices I especially wanted to highlight. Now, for the version with way more character analysis!

As mentioned, Corners of the World is Martyn's – our main character's – introductory song. Regardless of whether it counts as an 'I Want' song or not (it's a bit nebulous, because yes, he does express things he wants – to win, to be in contol of his own actions and not at others' whims. But for me, the more important part of the song is what he doesn't want to do, what things he's distancing himself from that he's presumably done before, and the questions and implications that arise from that. And the core of that is explored slightly later on), it's going to be our first impression of him as a character. The traits and worldview established here will be viewed as important, and will form the basis of his arc throughout the musical.

Because of that, the two verses focus on establishing that inital worldview (as well as establishing what he's aiming for):

MARTYN (Verse 1) Right, here I go again — new world, another start. New chance to see who’ll reach the end, and who will fall apart Well, won’t be me – this time I’ll be the very last to fall No care for cost, I’ll lie, double cross to best them all

So we know he wants to survive and win the game (especially after not doing so last time), we know he's willing to play dirty to achieve that and definitely should not be trusted. We know he's under no impression that this is anything other than a death game (or death match, to quote his Limited Life self) – he doesn't hide from the knowledge that people will fall apart, that only one person will be left standing. Importantly, this means he's playing the game exactly as intended, with no intentions of defying it or even deviating slightly* from what the first song has expressed to be the goal (to 'best'/'surpass' everyone else). Even as he expresses the wish to play for himself, he's already committed himself to following others' unseen rules.

Walls, corners, edges, I’ve been this way before. You’ll be cornered in the corners, and on edge in many more; And walls you’ll build and walls you’ll raise(/raze) and walls will fall in war, Kinship destroyed, so keep it a void you’re fighting for.

And here we get an exploration of Martyn's mindset in more detail. I've touched on this already, but a major point of exploration throughout the musical is Martyn's relashionship to emotional attachment – he's coming right off the bat of Ren's death in 3rd Life, which "broke" him and made him play more selfishly since (both statements taken from the LimLife lore stream), and he is someone who tends keep his distance and who'll prioritise himself over allies whenever things get dicey. But the "life" that closeness gave him back in 3rd Life was still clearly important to that version of him, and he does inadvertently (and unwillingly) start chasing that again this season – ending up growing close to the Southlanders (bar Grian) despite his efforts, enough to hallucinate them and be manipulated by the Voice's(/Watchers') false promise to bring them back to life if he follows its commads (in a moment where he expresses resistance to following its commands, and where the Voice is clearly distressing him). LL Episode 8 intro my beloved...

Still, that's to come. At the start of Last Life, he's firmly in a reactionary mindset to the events of 3rd Life, separating himself from that life and that version of him. 3rd Life was a failure on his part (in addition to the emotional damage, but he's trying to separate himself from that side of things and to focus purely on the win), and he's absolutely not wasting this new chance at victory.

So corner to corner, I’ll keep wandering on, Border to border, through woods, through caves, through spawn, Sure, laugh with some, don’t keep it glum, so long as lines are drawn Forego the rest, and don’t invest, just keep on wandering- WATCHERS Wandering, wandering MARTYN -on.

It's Watcher manipulation time, encouraging unhealthy mindsets that help them further their own aims! The more untied he is, the easier he'll be for them to play (less loyalties to others –> the more likely he is to rely on the Voice, and the less resistance there is to doing certain things that might involve those connections). Yes, emotional connections would mean more emotional pain (and so more negative emotions for them to feed on) in the future, but Martyn's very resistant to that idea right now, so it wouldn't do much to push it. They do encourage emotional connections later, though (heavily pushing him towards Ren for example, and note that that's only once it would mean Martyn betraying his own alliance (which would mean more emotional pain for someone, regardless of its impacts on Martyn himself. Or it would've been if that was revealed)).

There's another important part here, though. After all the 'allies won't help you' etc in the first two verses, I wanted to make clear that Martyn's not against being around people, far from it – he's almost constantly around people, just not generally around the same ones for an extended period of time – it's just the emotional investment he's trying to avoid. He is a very social player, he does enjoy joking and/or messing around with others and does it constantly, that's also an important aspect to him (he's a very "you talk a lot but never say anything" type of person**). So "sure, laugh with some, don't keep it glum" is a very important line!

LIZZIE Welcome, oh welcome to my tree fort, yet unnamed. MARTYN Be careful with that name you pick — don’t want it to get… flamed. LIZZIE …Ah. They won’t demean A fellow green? …Your lives? MARTYN That’s mine to know Is that a tower over there? See you, I’ve got to go!

And immediately, here's an example of Martyn actually messing with someone (as a new player, Lizzie is fun to tease)! His "don't want it to get flamed" triples as that, as a wordplay demonstration, and as another recognition that they are living in a world where people will inevitably turn on each other. If something's flammable, it will be burned.

Lizzie's characterisation here is meant to show her as someone who wants to do her best and is establishing herself, but is unsure/nervous about how the game will unfold due to having had no past experience (, the '...your lives?' comment is prompted by the momentary urge to want to know how close Martyn is to turning Red and potentially burning down her tree fort) There is the element of naïvité coming from not having lived through a previous series, too – not thinking about how badly having a flammable base may end, 'they won't demean a fellow green' again here, etc.

Because this verse is a dialogue, I focused a lot more on trying to keep the character's voices true to themselves as well. With Lizzie, the "Welcome, oh [welcome]" is moreso there to suit the 'fairy queen' persona she was going for, but the "tree fort... yet unnamed" would be something she'd say for humour's sake, in her particular style which I cannot for the life of me describe; her 'ah' would be quite deadpan in that way too (again, not sure which words to use to describe it). With Martyn we have the aforementioned wordplay, but also his method of slipping out of situations that go in directions he wants to avoid... which is to pretend to get distracted by something else, promptly change the subject to that thing, and run off (a clear example of this is in Wild Life when Scott is questioning him about his powers, and he conveniently gets 'distracted' by a zombified Skizz dying in the distance instead (~17:30 in his vid). Maybe not the smoothest of getaways... but a habit nonetheless).

TEAM BEST BEST will be the best, and we’ll show em what we got With our matching shields, and our towering snow fort MARTYN Hold on a sec, where’s your respect? BDUBS Respect? MARTYN Yeah, that’s my bit! Same shields? Snow? A world ago? With Ren and- fine, have it

Again, this verse is largely leaning into character voices and interactions. BEST do initally set out to be the heroes of the server (eg by recovering the enchanting table and returning it to the server), and do have some very loud/enthiusiastic figures within their ranks (Bdubs and Skizz), so the tone of their lyrics is meant to reflect this (though the instrumentation, which we'll talk about in a different post, does a lot of this work as well). Of course you also have Etho who's the complete opposite of course (and Tango somewhere in the middle), but it's the louder voices that are going to be heard in the interactions so it's their side of things I'm portraying. And, as mentioned before, we also have Martyn completely going into mock-offense mode.

SCAR/BEST/LIZZIE/MARTYN No matter if you're in your sixes or twos/Let's find some ore to- I'll sell you an offer you/-mine cannot refuse/It'll be the fairy fort! Crystals for fleeing,/I'm fine just to chat Crystals for flame,/Not falling for that! Survival's the ALL Name of the game!

Pretty self-explanatory here, with Martyn not buying into Scar's deals and other alliances going about their lives. BEST heading down to mine is set-up for the next song (aptly named "Down In The Mines"), in which Bdubs reveals he was cursed with the Boogeyman curse while down there, narrating his experiences in the form of a ghost story.

SCAR/BEST/LIZZIE/MARTYN Corner to corner, I'll just keep on wandering, wandering on/Yes, join the fairy fort, I'd love to have you here!/BEST will be the best, with our diamonds and our gold We can build a secret passageway so we'll always be near!/Put us to the test, and you'll see that we won't fold/A crystal or spell, oh, Joel, you'd help me sell?/Through woods, through caves- -But still for my sake I probably should find a team: it would do me some-/We'll aid each other when we need, together we will succeed, oh-/Put us to the test and you'll see that we'll do-/Goody! Magical Mountain we'll be! ALL (including Cleo, BigB and Joel, who are now onstage with their respective alliances) Good – It's this I've understood!*

Here we see the different players' attitudes to playing the game, and what they've "understood" about how to play it, as well as more alliances forming. Nothing much to say about Scar and Martyn here (aside from Martyn expressing the fact that he does want to be part of an alliance for numbers' sake, which we'll build more on in Song 4 (A(ha)lliances) when the Southlands are formed; and also continuing the thread that he sees others as figures he can use to benefit himself. Maybe there were things to say about Martyn here!), but a lot of Team BEST's part is foreshadowing ("put us to the text and you'll see that we won't fold"... they will fold. They will) in addition to contuining the 'server heroes' thread from earlier. Meanwhile, Lizzie's part continues to show her as a player who hasn't experienced the way the server devolves into bloodshed, still having a pretty idealistic view about the co-operation between herself, BigB and Cleo without thinking about the ways they'll inevitably have to turn on each other if they get later in the game.

The part about the tunnel connecting the Fairy Fort to Cleo and BigB's base is taken directly from the first session (originally proposed as an escape tunnel, in the same conversation that Cleo pointed out that the fort was flammable).

UPPER WATCHERS/LOWER WATCHERS Oh, wander, wander on/Wonder, wonder On/When they'll all start to turn tails Wonder, wonder/Wander, wander When trust will yield to betrayals/On

I've mentioned it before, but the Watchers feed on negative emotions, which is why they run the Life series. This is one of the few times we see emotions from them, as they're very excited to see what chaos and carnage this new game they've formed will bring (which I took care to portray in my voice)!

WATCHERS/MARTYN Till the rest are gone.../Right, here I go again – I'll fight with my axe drawn* Oh, wander, little pawn/But, unlike then... I'll lead, not play a pawn.

I've talked about this in the 'abridged' version, so I won't repeat that. The other thing here is the axe being an obligatory Dogwarts reference (or, more accurately, an obligatory rhyme (with 'pawn') which gave way to a Dogwarts reference I took).

[End]

(You can hear the instrumental continue for a while – ideally, Martyn would talk for a bit with Scott, Pearl and Jimmy, but though I can act through singing I can't act through speech and I'm not subjecting viewers to that xD)

If you've read this, thank you so much! You can definitely chart me going more and more unhinged as this progressed...

*eg by also wanting to find friendships, to be helpful while you can, etc, in addition to winning. There's no secondary aim there, aside from protecting himself from emotional harm.

**(to quote Martha from Doctor Who)

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saccharine-stories · 3 months ago

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~Clipped Wings~

Summary: However, he was a bird with clipped wings. In this cruel game, freedom was one thing the Watchers could not allow. Suddenly, he felt the tingle of his wings snap away from his control like a severed cord. Then, his body began to feel heavy, the effects of gravity ruthlessly tugging him back down. Down to his death.

A/N: I saw the @whumpcember event going on so i wrote this on a whim. I hope to write something at least once a week!! I wrote this in like 4 hours, so I hope y'all enjoy it.

Prompt: Day 1, Broken Bones

Fandom: MCYT. This takes place in Grian's series "Wild Life" and is inspired by the moment in session 7 when he tried to fly and fell instead.

Grian flashed a grin at Mumbo as they stopped in the shelter of the forest. Although it was genuine, there was a bit of an edge to it. He had been unprepared for this twist, and still felt as though the return of his teammates was a slight against him and him alone. The others didn’t understand. They thought it was just part of the game, but he knew better. This was some sort of retribution, though for what, he wasn’t sure.

He remembered how Mumbo died and the memory replayed vividly whenever he looked over the edge of the Spider’s Nest. How his friend got caught up in the heat of the Watchers game and paid for it with the last of his lives. Before now, Grian was only able to blame the Watchers for the game alone. All the tragedy, all the death, all the betrayals. All the cruelty came from their own actions as they sought to survive and win the game they were all trapped in. But this?? This was uncharacteristically cold, even for them. The Watchers had not only brought back both Mumbo and Skizz, but given power over them to Cleo, who promptly turned them on him, causing him to lose a life. Later, he had been able to steal her power, so now here he was, stealing a quiet moment with his friends in defiance of the Watchers’ cutthroat game. Grian paused for a moment, watching Mumbo laugh and taking in the broken body of his friend, whose eyes were clouded with decay, and yet still seeing and filled with mirth despite everything.

“Well,” Mumbo chuckled, “Our time’s almost up. Don’t you need to leave or something?”

Grian turned away slightly and nodded, putting aside the bitterness that always flared when the game started its downhill descent into overwhelming thirst for victory at any cost.

“Yeah, yeah. Get back to your new friends. I’ll be seeing you!”

Mumbo laughed in response, and Grian flashed him a cheeky grin, this time without the edge. He stepped back and crouched, ghostly scarlett wings materialized at his back, courtesy of Pearl’s power that he nabbed earlier. They were a faint mimicry of the ones he had on his home server, but man had it felt good to fly again. He jumped up and his wings blasted him into the air. He soared up, high above the trees, bases, and chaos of this tiny death world, relishing the peace that the altitude brought. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, taking in the untainted air that rushed past his ears. The sun was warm and the air was cool and quiet, and for one moment, one precious moment, he felt free. However, he was a bird with clipped wings. In this cruel game, freedom was one thing the Watchers could not allow. Suddenly, he felt the tingle of his wings snap away from his control like a severed cord. Then, his body began to feel heavy, the effects of gravity ruthlessly tugging him back down. Down to his death. He keeled backward, heart slamming a deadman’s rhythm against his chest. Air rushed past him, stripping the screams from his throat and muting his final moments. And when they came, they came with an explosion of force and pain Grian had never guessed was possible. Bones snapped and shattered at the impact, twisting his body into a mess of blood and dirt. His life was gone, destroyed at the point of impact.

Though his life was gone there would be no sweet release to end the pain. There never was. Not for him. Time slowed as this life bled away, trapping in the death throes of his agony. Bones ground as he tried to breath again, popping out of place as his chest rose and fell with the quickness of tortured and panicked breaths. He felt his sweater, his pants, the ground, his hair, become warm and heavy with blood, shards of bones piercing through his skin and tearing his flesh. The intensity of the pain was unbearable.

So Grian screamed. He screamed into the purple stained void that had replaced the living world with its timeless limbo. Screams of pain resonated through his body, screams that cursed the deal he had foolishly made long ago. He cried and begged and screamed for an eternity, but though his pain was seen, his pleas were not heard.

Then, at some point in this timeless hell, the renewal process began. His bones started to realign, tearing through his flesh to sink back into their proper places and all the jagged fractures seared in blinding intensity to become whole once more. Grian’s body convulsed and writhed as undone joints and sinews knit back together, tightening around bones that felt white hot inside him. Wounds burned as they closed up with unnatural quickness, leaving no scar and no trace of the fatal damage that had once been.

Then life started to come back to him. It hit him like a second impact, flooding him with an overwhelming torrent of energy that was strong enough to bring the dead back to life. It crushed him beneath its force, nearly rattling his bones out of their newfound places. It burned and chilled. It stabbed at him, through his body and his soul, into the dividing veil so that he could be allowed to return.

Grian opened his eyes, breathlessly staring into the void that was becoming more and more solid by the moment. He saw the Watcher’s eyes around him, glowing in neutral silence like a thousand cold stars. It frightened him to see them here, reminding him that their game had no room for carelessness. The agony was starting to fade, leaving room for writhing fear to fill his gut, chest constricting at the feeling of being perceived by a host of malevolence.

Shivering, he closed his eyes again and did not open them until he felt the breeze on his face, and heard the sound of the living world return.

#whumpcember24 #whumpcember24 day1 #whump #life series #traffic series #wild life #wild life session 7 #grian whump #fanfiction #borrowed recipe #minecraft #life series fanfiction #grian

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wisepuma23 · 1 year ago

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Knives and forks clink against the dinner plates, metal scraping and laughter, their base drips with water from above. Drip, drip, drip. Impulse watches. It seeps into the center of the table, a growing patch on the wooden grain. Right between the steaks and loaves of warm bread. Nobody pays it any mind. Drip, drip.

(…Nobody but him.)

Etho says something he doesn’t catch, a bark of laughter from Tango. Beads of water splash onto the surrounding food.

Impulse’s hold on his fork goes tight.

He needs to fix that.

“Impulse buddy, you with us?” Skizz shakes his arm, “You agree Scar’s acting weird right?”

“Yeah yeah,” Impulse answers on auto-pilot, “I heard rumors he’s been trying to get kills. Yellow Scar, man.”

Tango cackles and the conversation cycles on. Impulse steels his jaw, he can’t zone out again. Keep pretending, he reminds himself. It wouldn’t be good to stab his teammates at the dinner table. He’d have to clean the table out. Maybe pull out the entrails from the cracks in the grain of wood.

(Drip, drip.)

No, focus.

Focus.

(A faint, metallic scent permeates his senses– gone in a moment.)

Impulse bites into a piece of steak. Buttery juice slides over his tongue and between his teeth. The taste of blood makes his grip on the fork creak. For what feels like the first time in millenia, his glamor itches at his skin. The careful control over his form twitches and squirms like a coiled snake poised to strike.

Show them what you really are, hums in his mind. The dripping echoes like a wardrum. Show them your true face.

Impulse licks at his lips, “You did a nice job, Tango. It’s delicious!”

“Aww!” Tango coos, his flames crackling a soft orange-red, “Etho lent me some seasoning but he won’t tell me where he got the happy happy sauce.”

Impulse takes another bite, canines digging into flesh and bone, and the rip is loud. Or is it loud for him? Again, infernal magic bubbles at the back of his throat. He swallows, appraising the flavor. It doesn’t drown out the sickly sulfur like he hoped.

“Bdubs?” Impulse guesses with a tease.

“Oh come on,” Etho groans, “Ah I guess that was way too easy.”

“He married me too, remember?” Impulse laughs at Etho’s expression, “Can’t blame me for forgetting the best meals I’ve ever had! Bet he’s feeding his family around now.”

Etho waves him off as they cackle at the blush rushing up past the mask. Impulse cuts another piece off the bone. Rip, snrk, clink. Idly, he wonders if human skin still made the same noise.

The clink of metal against the plates, the dull pounding of water. The snap-crackle of Tango’s fire. Buttery-sweet blood coats his tongue.

He remembers the musky smell of Etho's burning hair and flesh, his screams turned into bloody gurgles as he flailed in lava in the first game. Just minutes before everything ended.

Impulse tears off a chunk of meat.

(Snrrk, clink.)

People die in so many ways. It’s why he loves the variety poison provides— stomachs twisting and lungs seizing— and yet he wonders if anybody’s tried skinning someone, if the server would even allow it.

Impulse swallows a dark laugh, is vivisection on the table? His glamor shivers.

Metal catches the light, the smooth shimmer taking him back. To sharp arrowheads and snapping magma, to a castle reaching into the sky.

He remembers a golden clock.

(Rip, snrk, clink.)

Impulse remembers the way Bdubs’ flesh bubbled and blistered from the Wither. The way his Red bloodlust sang at the way his corpse crumpled to the ground. Bdubs’ skin growing dark, mottled with blackened streaks and bruised from the Withering and regular battle.

The worst of it healed over, scars stitched into flesh. But he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t revel in it, the stained canvas left on Bdubs’ face and arms.

He kissed that face. Peppering them along wither-cracked ribs and arms, tracing every dark and poisoned line with a smile. I’m sorry, he had said. I’m sorry.

He meant it. (Yes, really.)

Impulse hadn’t meant to curse Bdubs with chronic pain and scars, especially since he had to feel the echoes of it through the soulmate bond. He loved Bdubs. Loved him since the beginning.

And he remembers the rip-schk! of the ax in his back.

The way his blood pooled on the grass as everything went dark.

The phantom feeling of Pearl’s wolves tearing flesh from bone in long strips and bites. Riiiip-snrk-crunch.

Blood dripping from between their teeth.

(Drip, drip.)

Impulse stabs his fork a little harder into the next cut, picturing a handsome face with a cute and crooked grin. Damn him. He glares down at his plate. No, focus. Pretend, he tells himself, you’re good at that, aren’t you?

There’s a hand over his, warmer than it should be. He looks up.

Tango has cocked an eyebrow up with a cute little nose crinkle, “You in?”

Impulse blinks, the words registering in his head.

“Yeah, sure,” He grins, “A walk sounds great. I think I’m tired of Skizz’s stink overpowering the place. We really need to install some ventilation.”

“Hey!”

And they laugh, bright and loud as Skizz pouts, checking his armpits. The glasses shake as Tango rattles the table with a smack, a cackle on his lips. Etho’s eyes twinkle with amusement.

Impulse’s focus drifts. Back to the present, away from the blood.

(Drip, drip.)

And yet.

(Rip, snrrk, clink.)

…The hunger prevails.

#impdubs #ethubs #trafficshipping #impulsesv #limited life smp #demon impulse #my writing #puma writes #trafficblr #trafficshipblr #for anyone that's confused this is about Boogey Impulse #im truly so insane about his pov in limlife about it #he's soooooo fucked up and I love the idea that the boogey curse directly taps into his demonic urges #which he only shows in N&S and ZITS #impulse is sweet bc he wants to survive as people do kill all the “evil” demons they come across and that's in the past now haha #ANYWAY impulse struggling to keep his glamor on when he usually forgets its there and just hhhh #tangpulse

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bidoofenergy · 3 months ago

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don't leave me hanging alone again

also on AO3

After the end of the session—after secrets are revealed and the rewards are reaped—everyone just hangs out. It's the no-man's-land of time, a few hours without fighting—and also without peace. You don't build new alliances or lay new traps. You use the time to breathe, to talk, to try to laugh. If you do it right, you won't hate your friends when you leave.

That's what you like to do at least. Jimmy likes to use this time to apologize. Back when you were soulmates—2 games and a Hermitcraft world ago—this was endearing to you.

Now, you wait for it.

You and Skizz catch up with Impulse, laughing about the game of tag, commiserating over your failures. Your conversation is light—it's Impulse and Skizz. You three have been friends for so long you can't be anything but. This is bearable. Manageable.

Several minutes into your conversation, Bdubs sidles up next to Impulse, fitting himself so perfectly into Impulse’s side it’s like the space had been left for him all along. The two of them aren't together this time around, but their history folds wrinkles into their every interaction.

For now, Bdubs is here to gloat.

Skizz watches them carefully, the way they bend towards each other without even meaning to. He's trying to understand them, trying to understand ex-soulmates—has been trying to understand for the last two games. Skizz missed just one of Grian's invitations and returned to a tangled web of feelings that have only gotten more and more knotted every time the games started back up again.

The longer this goes on, the more it’ll be clear to Skizz just how messed up you are over Jimmy—messed up in a way the others aren’t over their own ex-soulmates. Even if Skizz hasn’t already heard it directly from Impulse—and he definitely has, you know your friends—he’s figuring it out now. You can hear him and BigB whisper to each other, usually when you're on the other side of their island futzing with the stupid chicken machine.

How do you explain it to someone who wasn't there? How do you explain the way blood, injuries, every fraction of a heart lost all meant something bigger than yourself? That that was the game?

You didn't like being responsible for someone else's loss. You don't miss it. You don't want it back. But you would carve another 19 hearts out of your chest just to feel Jimmy's pain again.

How do you explain that to someone who wasn't there? You don't. You can't.

You won't try. You listen to Bdubs brag instead, laughing when Impulse gets under his skin— gentle. Oh so familiar with what makes him tick.

You won't try. You’ll let Skizz stay disbelieving, shooting you looks with one eyebrow raised, whispering with BigB when they think you're busy, listening to Impulse tell stories they think you don't know about.

You won't try. Bdubs is interrupted by Jimmy finally bounding over with a cheerful “Hello!”

“I heard you blew our boy up!” Impulse gestures at you—did Bdubs tell him? Do you even care?

Jimmy grins, canine sharp, and you both laugh like nothing hurts.

“We should take your name out of the drawing for that.” Skizz says and his easy-going smile is just a little too wide.

Jimmy turns to you and before his face can even fall, you say, “Don't worry about it.”

He smiles at you, not even relieved he was so certain in you. And it's just like before, standing right up against the thing that will hurt you, just because he's there smiling on the other side of it, just because you miss your heart beating with his. And isn't that exactly what will get you killed?

#secret life session five you will always be famous to me #secret life #trafficshipping #trafficfic #life series #solidaritek #my fic

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selodka-pod-shuboy · 1 year ago

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I think 3rd life is somehow the best plot&system-wise. It's not based on anything, just my humble opinion. I have so much thoughts and they are all so tragic. Like. It was my first ever interaction with theese CCs, I went there blind reacting. It was amazing then, it was even better after getting to know them. Every perspective tells such a drasticly different story. You've got alliances formed throu death, loyalty and sacrifices, broken or cherished till the very end. You have 3 lifes, and that's it. No tricks or some help or twist from the gamemakers. Go apeshit or stay nice, nothing changes it. All your enemies can start from something as simple as a random punch or a shot or a pice of paper. So can friends. No one knows how the server operates, they all come from somewhat-friendly spaces, so every simple fact is a new surprise - everybody kills animals, and ends up suffering with lack of food&lether for books afterwards. They put effort into builds, bother with decorating(not to say they didn't in later seasons, it's just the attachment I'll talk later), fill the places with love and care, get attached to pets and trees, banners of all things. PROTECT THEM and feel sorrow and grief, once they enevitibly get killed or burned or blown up or DESTROYED. The rage is so innocent in it's belive, that they were wronged, that they should be avenged, and not that this is just the reality of the server itself, that that's just - what heppens. The story tells so much about betrayal, about broken trust, and friends that go mad, and almoust no one follows the "all alliances are broken after you're red" rule. You are allowed to kill now, yeah, but there was nothing in PARTICULAR, stopping you before. It is proven by the first death, that it was just a prank, that lead to all the following chaos. Scar gives Grian flowers after his second death, and Grian STAYS. Cleo sticks with Bdubs, calling his castle a toilet, kidnaps the desert lama, burns Joel's home. She goes for the king and dies in the blind rage . Bdubs makes and gives Impulse the clock, that will doom their hearts in the end. Impulse promises his trust to the Crastle. Bigb makes the cookie. Martyn hears voices, and Ren asks him to take his head. He takes so many lives. The Red Winter Comes. Tango saves the cows, only for them to be stolen, he gets shot stuck behind the fire. Etho's dark oak gets burned, he builds a woolen castle, for it to get burned multiple times. Timmy gives Scott a poppy, starting their marriage. They build the flower valley. Timmy DIES FIRST and aquaeres the Canary curse. Scott follows full of sorrow. Skizz dies second, full of rage, and creates the boogieman curse. Joel stays alone, with his dog army, and dies, leaving his pack wandering the desert. The cactus-ring fight. The siege of dogwarts. Battle of the Red Desert. All the monopolies. The state, that everyone leaves the server, the contrast with the start. It's like watching the 1rst anual hunger games, from a perspective of people, who know and love each other, but no matter their efforts, end up slowly spiraling into violence and distrust, spreading pain and destruction. Mu soul loves and aches for it, even though it was the very same thing that broke it in the first place, that took a pice of it and so it will never be whole again. It's so tragic. All this blood was never beautiful. It was just. Red.

#3rd life smp #3rd life #third life smp #life series #Rant #I'm too drunk #Happy new year #I'll regret this afterwards #last life #last life smp #double life smp #limited life #limited life smp #secret life #secret life smp

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blacktofade · 7 months ago

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ok i combed through your blog for long enough that i think this is a safe space to do a little discussion of ccs personal lives. if not, you don't have to answer this. but: i know we are all very happy for skizz to be able to go full time with youtube and twitch but i am 99% sure i know what company he worked for — i don't think it's ever been too hard to find the info so maybe most people do? but i've never seen anyone say it directly. if it wasn't common knowledge before, this is going to make it extremely easy to find out — anyway, that company is going through fucking massive layoffs and cutbacks right now, which was announced in private to employees the same day that skizz made his announcement. i don't know how well it lined up other than the day, but the major shit he would have been in either pushed him to jump into professional youtubing and streaming even though it isn't as secure for him as people on the outside might think, or at the very least made the decision feel much better in retrospect.

the graph of the company's stock crash is painful even if you are entirely disconnected from the industry, it is historically awful. like the situation for the company as a whole is not, at this point, bankruptcy bad, but it's not-entirely-unwarranted-comparisons-to-late-90s-early-00s-era-nortel bad. which is… Very Bad. they're cutting approximately 1 out of every 7 employees (15,000 people) over the next couple of months, and in just one day wiped out $30 billion-with-a-b worth of value from the market. it's an absolute nightmare for the people working there, because nobody knows if they're going to be one of the ones getting laid off yet. the company's giving early retirement packages to push out some of higher earning workers, and even if skizz made his decision to leave after knowing the layoffs were coming, the chance he was included in that is very small. but i do hope he got a good deal, if he could.

in conclusion: it's very likely this choice was even scarier than anyone in the fandom previously thought, so… idk everyone please subscribe to skizz on twitch if possible!!!!!

This is absolutely a safe space for CC real life discussions, mostly because I know I'm way more deranged than any anon could be. I know things that would make CCs sweat.

I'm also going to name and shame the company, Intel, because Skizz has mentioned it before, so I'm not considering it a secret -- plus he's no longer there. It's also real shitty what they're doing and my heart goes out to their employees. I dealt with something similar recently and can confirm that these guys will have to wait weeks/months to find out if their job is safe and it will be the most degrading, dehumanizing experience ever.

I keep hemming and hawing about my 1000 IQ assumptions (lmfao), but he 100% knew about the layoff. Whether he heard about it and bounced or whether he took a volunteer deal is up for debate, but there's no way he didn't know it was coming. These companies are not subtle and Skizz is a smart man.

I am quietly praying he was able to take a volunteer deal though, because severance packages at those kinds of companies are WILD. Like, for some actual example numbers, a coworker of mine got 23 weeks of pay (8 weeks base + 15 weeks for years of service), which they received as a lump sum. Skizz says he's been with Intel for 20+ years so he'd be looking at base + 40 weeks. Dude would most likely get a year's salary lump sum (minus taxes), which would definitely help him going the full-time route.

Intel won't be going anywhere anytime soon, but their employees are going to be overworked and underpaid for the foreseeable future and we should be glad that Skizz is free! He's his own boss and, yes, we should all go support him to show he definitely made the right choice! He's such a delight and I will continue to be unwell and horny about him!!

#lovely anon #answer

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songbirdsanctuary · 10 months ago

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Whispers of Loss

This is a Team ZITS fanfic. This one is a bit dark, read the warnings!

Warnings: Suicide and a suicide attempt, non-explicit self-harm.

Word count: 902

Impulse sat on the edge of his bed, his heart heavy with the weight of grief. Zedaph's sudden death had left a gaping hole in his chest, a void that seemed impossible to fill. The guilt clawed at him relentlessly, a cruel reminder of his failure to see how much pain Zedaph had been in to lead him to do something like that.

With a heavy sigh, Impulse pushed himself up, his long, slender tail trailing behind him. He needed solace, a shoulder to lean on, even if just for a moment. He opened his wings and flew to his blazeborn friend’s base. he walked around for a minute before his eyes landed on Tango, whose fiery hair flickered with muted flames in the dimly lit room.

"Hey, Tango," Impulse called out as he approached, his footsteps echoing softly on the ground. But as he drew nearer, he saw Tango lost in a world of his own, his tail twitching with irritation. Tentatively, Impulse reached out, but before he could utter a word, Tango's response sliced through the air like a razor-sharp blade.

"What do you want?" Tango's voice was sharp, causing Impulse to falter for a moment. "I-I just wanted to come and see how you are," he stammered, his concern evident in his voice. But Tango didn't spare him a glance, continuing to move back and forth, carrying blocks with frenzied determination.

"Well, I'm busy, so leave me alone," Tango snapped, his tone curt and dismissive. A knot of worry tightened in Impulse's chest; he knew that when something troubled Tango, he tended to bury himself in work until he collapsed from exhaustion.

"Tango, when was the last time you slept?" Impulse pressed gently, his voice laced with concern. Tango's fiery mane flickered brighter with annoyance. "None of your business!"

"I just want to make sure you're okay," Impulse insisted, his words soft but firm. Tango turned to him, his eyes ablaze with anger, yet there was something deeper lurking behind the fiery facade. "Why do you suddenly care so much!?" Tango's voice rose to a Yell, his words like daggers aimed at Impulse's heart. "Go away!" The rejection hit Impulse like a physical blow, leaving him feeling more isolated than ever before.

After leaving Tango's, Impulse reached out to Xisuma, seeking permission to visit Skizz off-server. Hoping for solace in his friend's company, Impulse made his way to Skizz's residence. However, upon arrival, Skizz barely uttered a word, his silence echoing louder than any conversation. The lack of communication only exacerbated Impulse's feelings of loneliness, prompting him to depart without a word. Yet, no matter where he wandered, the void within him remained, a persistent reminder of the friend he had lost and those he feared losing.

Back on Hermitcraft, Impulse struggled to find purpose amidst the suffocating weight of his solitude. He had always prided himself on being there for his friends, but now he questioned if his efforts had ever truly mattered. He failed to be there for Zed and now he was gone forever. The burden of his failures weighed heavily on his shoulders, threatening to crush him beneath its relentless pressure. Tears welled in his eyes as he succumbed to the darkness that threatened to consume him. His diamond sword sat close to his bed, he grabbed it and lifted it to his wrists.

Skizz couldn't shake the guilt of Impulse's last visit. Their interaction had been minimal, and it was evident that Impulse was in dire need of someone to confide in. Coming to a solution, Skizz reached out to X and requested permission to go to Hermitcraft. Without delay, he made his way to Impulse's base.

Upon arrival, Skizz noticed a stack of papers neatly arranged on a table, each bearing a different hermit's name. Hastily sifting through them, he came across one with his own name inscribed on it. As he unfolded the note, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Unable to bear the weight of its contents, Skizz dropped the paper halfway through reading it, his chest tightening with dread. With a racing heart, he darted around the house, gripped by the fear of losing yet another cherished friend.

Fear gripped Skizz's heart as he raced to the bathroom, praying that he wasn't too late. There, he found Impulse, a bottle of painkillers clutched in his trembling hand, his eyes wide as he stared at Skizz. Without a second thought, Skizz pulled Impulse into a tight embrace, holding onto him as if afraid he might vanish into thin air.

As Impulse's tears began to flow, so did Skizz's own, and he listened intently to every word Impulse uttered, his heart weighed down by their shared sorrow. Leading them gently out of the bathroom and onto Impulse's bed, the palpable heaviness of grief filled the air between them. With shaking hands, Skizz reached for his phone, swiftly composing a message to Tango, telling him to what Impulse almost did to himself, understanding they couldn't handle it alone.

Upon Tango's arrival, his usual fiery demeanor melted away in the face of Impulse's pain, and he apologized for his earlier behavior. Skizz harbored no resentment towards Tango; after all, Tango was the one who discovered Zedaph’s body. Drawing each other close, their tears mingling, they made a solemn vow never to let one another slip away again.

#hermitfic #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft fanfic #zedaph #skizzleman #tangotek #team zits #impulsesv

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