#he's upset about you killing cows

[tyanis]

For those of you who have recently started playing Fallout 3 after watching the tv show and want to use Butch as a companion...

I know his signature weapon is his switchblade but his tagged skill is actually unnarmed. Not melee. Get that boy a deathclaw gauntlet. Or a powerfist. There's one called Fisto! that is really good.

And put him in power armor. Tesla or Hellfire if you can get it.

His other tagged skill is small guns. So, Butch is unique amongst companions in that his default pistol technically requires ammo for him to use it (he won't use the ammo and only actually needs one bullet in his inventory). You can easily manipulate him into using whatever gun you want by taking away all of his 10mm rounds... Provided you supply him with plenty of ammo for those guns. I used to give him the Blackhawk (complete Agatha's quest) and sometimes a sniper rifle. Completing The Pitt should get you access to an ammo press if you need rarer bullets.

His final tagged skill is Science.

This does nothing.

But you can headcanon that he's really good with computers or something.

Anyway, hope that helps!

[tac-the-unseen]

Slapping Slasher's Ass and Running away!

Micheal Myers:

•He likes to believe he has complete control over his surroundings 

•He likes to imagine himself as a Jaguar; opportunistic, stealthy, adaptable, and an Apex predator

•And then there's you, here to snap them back to reality 

•If he's a Jaguar, you're an annoying bird that follows him 

•All this made clear when He's just standing in the kitchen and feels a hard smack on his Ass

•He whips his head around to see you, running at full speed and giggling 

•For a moment he's completely stunned 

•But only for a moment 

•He’s quick on your heels 

•In less than 10 seconds he's holding you in the air by your shirt, like holding a cat by its scruff

•You can immediately tell through the mask how pissed he is

•But for a few seconds he just leaves you suspended in the air, and soon enough he makes his decision. 

•He walks to your shared bedroom and drops you onto the bed

•You think you're in for some sexy-funtime

•That quickly washes away when Michael turns around and walk out the door 

•When you get up to follow you find that he's locks you in by putting a chair under the handle 

•This man is so sick of your shit, but loves you too much to actually harm you

•He just put you in time out while he waits for the stinging on his ass to go away

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•When the school day ends you're walking towards the front door, you spot both of your boyfriends walking towards the door too

•With the coast clear of teachers and most other students you knew what you had to do

•You rub your hands together diabolically and begins to run towards them

•when you're finally in the perfect position, you wind your hands back and as hard as you can, you slap their ass

•They both tense up and freeze

•When they see you running past them and laughing, they are quick to give chase

•They Chase you down the field and into the parking lot

•Stu was the one to tackle you onto the grass, making sure to protect your head when you fall

•Stu pins you down while Billy catches up 

•When (a winded) Billy reaches you two he drops to his knees and starts tickling you

•Neither boy takes to seriously and think it's a playful invention to rough house and playfully fight

Thomas Hewitt:

•While he was meticulously cutting up some cow legs, you spotted a golden opportunity 

•Thom’s fat ass in perfect position 

•After circling him, carrying the same box of tools, you decide to go for the kill

•”Tommy!” You shout while running past him

•Your hand makes firm contact with the side of his rear 

•You leave a blazing trail up the stairs while Thom processes what happened

•Thom watches you run away while his ass stings 

•At most he's confused 

•He just goes back to work 

Bubba Sawyer:

•You were playing with him outside

•Running around, picking flowers, picking up pebbles, roughhousing

•While play fighting you slap is ass and run away hoping he would chase you

•instead he stands for confused 

•after an awkward couple seconds, you realize he's not going to chase you, So you walk back to him 

•You ask if He's okay and realize his eyes is watering 

•After a frantic apology and check over You managed to figure out that he's not hurt 

•Bubba Just associates spanking with being bad/bad behavior 

•He was upset because he thought you were punishing him for being too rough 

•You made it up to him by making him a flower crown 

Bo Sinclair:

•This could go one of two ways

•He could be really into it OR he could freak out

•It depends on what mood you catch him in

•One day he'll think it's sexy and want you to do it again 

•The next he'll have a PTSD attack remembering his childhood 

•It's honestly best if you keep your hands to yourself

Vincent Sinclair:

•He honestly thought you did it by accident 

•He didn't understand that you were trying to play 

•He didn't react at all 

•You have to tell him what you're trying to do 

•He gets very embarrassed about not understanding that he kind of shut down for the day 

•He remains hunched over on his desk for the rest of the day 

Lester Sinclair:

•It honestly doesn't matter what you do to Lester, He's just happy you're giving him attention 

•The man is the definition of a puppy 

•He's just happy to be here 

•So if you want to play a game of Chase, He’lll Chase

•As soon as you slap and run away he's hot on your heels 

•He chases you through a field and down the roads 

•When he catches you he's out of breath and takes a second to dry heave 

•Then he'll hug and kiss you while walking back to the Truck 

Billy Lenz:

•Billy is one of the characters you Can not hit

•You think he'd be into to quick slap, but he has the opposite reaction 

•He thinks you're planning on hurting him And will either attack you or hide 

•If he chooses to attack, You're likely going to have to hold him down until he calms 

•If he hides, leave him alone

•trying to find him would be like walking into a coyote's den

•eventually he'll come back out because you're the only person that still talks to him 

•He figures it's better to be physically abused than be lonely 

•Good luck explaining that it was just a joke 

Brahms Heelshire:

•He was acting up after you told him the grocery boy was coming today

•He was whining about how you don't need to interact with him and how the help shouldn't be seen or heard

•You remind them that you're technically ‘the help’ and he pouts on the couch 

•When the doorbell rings he immediately jumps up to try to stop you 

•You have a light bulb moment

•You get closer, reach around, and slap his ass

•You almost immediately push past him to run to the door 

•Brahms is quick to follow, but not quick enough

•You swing open the door before Brahms can reach you

•He hides just in time, and proceeds to stew behind the door.

Hannibal Lecter:

•While he was cooking up some breakfast you come up behind him and hug him

•He greets you and continues to cook 

•You two have a lazy conversation while you lean your head against his shoulders 

•Deciding he's not pay enough attention to you come up with a plan

•You steal one of his knives, slap his ass, and bolt out of the kitchen 

•He gives you about a 5-second Head start before he begins his hunt 

•In that time He turns off the stove and allows himself time to find you

•He slowly starts his prowl 

•Checking doors, behind furniture, around the stairs, and behind curtains 

•When he finds you, he pounces and pulls you into a pinning hug

•He forces the knife from your hand and kisses your forehead

•”Let me finish breakfast, then I'll spend time with you.”

Will Graham:

•While on the world's most boring fishing trip (Will Even admitted this trip sucked) You watch as no lines get tugged

•board out of your mind you decide to at least mess around 

•While Will was leaning over to check his lines you slap his ass as hard as to can, which throws him into the calm river

•You howl with laughter as Will get thrown overboard 

•When he resurfaces we comes back up with a scowls on his lips, but a playful look in his eyes

•”You suck” he chuckles while you help him back in

•As soon as he's on board, he throws you into the water and laughs

The Lost Boys:

•All the boys are up for a good chase, But they all have different reactions 

•David

-Slapping David's ass takes balls

-As soon as you try to run he has you by the arm 

-He smirks and pulls you towards him

-”Oh-ho-ho, where do you think you're going?”

-If you play your cards right he'll let you go to properly chase you 

-All’s well and good before he flies at you like a hawk

•Dwayne

-He'll let you run away But as soon as you're out of sight the game is on 

-It doesn't matter where you're at 

-The boardwalk, the cave, the forest, the beach 

-He sprints and tackles you to the floor 

-”Did you honestly believe you could outrun a vampire?” He muses

-could turn playful, could turn romantic 

•Paul

-as soon as your hand collides with his ass, he shrieks 

-He playful pretends he's wounded 

-He writhes on the ground, cries fake tears, hand over forehead

-”Why should you do this to me!” 

-”I thought you loved me!” 

-Walks around all day telling his brothers that you abuse him 

-gives you love bites while telling his tale of woe 

•Marko

-when you slap his ass he lets out a moan that causes both of you to freeze 

-after a few seconds Marko whips around 

-”Tell no one.” He says in a completely serious voice 

-You know for a fact the others would make fun of him for the rest of his unnatural life 

-Every time you're behind him, he turns around to face you So it never happens again

Thanks for reading <3

Sorry this took so long! I've had a busy week!

[forthegothicheroine]

I don't know if you do requests for the Great Detectives, but I'd love to see how you think the Great Detectives would handle the murder of King Hamlet of Denmark.

This is a GREAT one! The big question is whether they all talk to the ghost of the dead king; I think I'm going to have to take that on a case-by-case basis, with whatever feels right for any specific detective.

So, in a series I do sometimes, how would various great detectives solve the murder of King Hamlet...

Sherlock Holmes: Well, obviously ghosts don't exist, so jot that down. But in Holmes's experience, living humans often pretend to be ghosts (or even make dogs pretend to be ghosts!) so who could this be? The young prince Hamlet, who everybody says has gone mad? Holmes deduces that he isn't mad at all, and is in fact conducting psychological warfare against his hated uncle; while Holmes disapproves, he concludes that the boy is completely right about Claudius due to his knowledge of the play The Murder of Gonzago, as seen when he's upset about changes in a production. The Murder of Gonzago is a play which premiered in a town in Denmark known for its manufacturing of poisons for pest control!

Hercule Poirot: Poirot is quite sad to hear that the monarch who invited him as a celebrity guest has died; why does this always have to happen when he goes on vacation? Polonius spies on the guy to see what he's up to, but Poirot is much better at snooping on people than he is, and nobody can keep anything hidden for very long. He gives a summation where he reveals Claudius killed his brother. Prince Hamlet immediately goes to attack his uncle and they struggle over a sword. King Claudius falls dead and Poirot bows out, because determining whether Hamlet should suffer consequences or just become king is not his department.

Sam and Peter: Hear me out- if we bump Hamlet down from ambiguously college-aged to ambiguously high school aged, we can replace Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. These two nerdy kids are shipped in to cheer their friend (more like acquaintance) Hamlet up, and to his surprise, they respond to his depressing monologues by taking notes and asking for further details on why the world is so corrupt. Hamlet isn't so happy about them doing an investigation into "What is up with Hamlet's super hot mom?" but when they suggest interviewing Claudius to see if he has the face of a liar, he enlists them to help out with putting on The Murder of Gonzago. The rest of the play mostly goes the same, but they find the letter Claudius planted on them and show it to Hamlet. One of the last lines of the play is when Fortinbras is looking at everyone lying dead, but then Osric points out "Sam and Peter are alive!"

Phryne Fisher: Phryne is a dubious (if genteel) woman Laertes has taken up with, whom Polonius is doing everything in his power to drive away. Phryne doesn't care, but it does bring her attention to the fact that the man is apparently constantly spying on everyone in the castle. On whose behalf is he doing this? King Claudius? Is he afraid someone may assassinate him because of his brother's suspicious death? What was the official story about that, anyway? She exchanges sexy insults with Prince Hamlet, refusing to be cowed, and ultimately agrees to play the queen in his production of The Murder of Gonzago (where she gets a little too into the love scene.) When she turns and looks directly in Claudius's eye in the audience during a crucial line, she can see the answer to everything. Claudius tries to convince Laertes to kill her, saying she corrupted Ophelia into being a whore for a mad prince, but Laertes can't go through with it and kills Claudius instead.

Dale Cooper: King Hamlet's ghost tells him who killed him in a dream, but Cooper doesn't remember. He befriends Horatio and tells him that in order to understand the death of the king, it is crucial for them to study an old Icelanic poem about a man who feigns madness, because the answer to the mystery lies somewhere within. Horatio doesn't totally get it, but he figures Cooper must know what he's doing and goes along with it. When everyone is gathered to watch a production of The Murder of Gonzago, Cooper first steps up onto the stage, guided by a spirit in the form of a snake wearing a crown, to announce that King Claudius killed his brother. Prince Hamlet immediately stabs his uncle. Determining whether Hamlet should suffer consequences or just become king is not Cooper's department.

Philip Marlowe: All I know is, most of this mystery involves him getting thrown off the palace grounds repeatedly and being told that a bum like him better keep away from King Claudius if he knows what's good for him. If he ever gets out of Denmark alive, Marlowe thinks to himself, he's never leaving LA during the winter ever again.

Sam Vimes: Vimes can actually interview the ghost, but that doesn't mean the case is closed. He's not worried about the ghost actually being a deceitful fiend, he just thinks there's a possibility he's wrong. After all, if Vimes was poisoned and his ghost found out some creepy relative immediately married his wife and took his job, he would also jump to conclusions! He spends a lot of time yelling at royal people and getting threatened with execution (Vimes doesn't know how his job ended up involving so many clashes with royalty, but so it goes), and is disrespectful of religion enough to spy on Claudius while he's having his remorseful confession. He can't arrest him, but he spreads the word around, and as the royal court dissolves into backstabbing and finger-pointing, Vetinari walks in with a full retinue (and more importantly, a list of all the debts Denmark owes to Ankh-Morpork) to evaluate the situation and congratulate Claudius on his "excellent decision" to abdicate. Claudius later dies of a totally natural snake bite in his ear.

Columbo:

Your Majesty, King Claudius, forgive My clumsy common nature. I am not A noble gentleman, nor do I live With such great honor as yourself- a thought, However, troubles me this night. For how Should some strange serpent come to bite a king? And why within his ear? It puzzles! Now, I beg that I may ask just one more thing…

[mcflymemes]

TWISTER (1996) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

cow... another cow.

why can't we spend a normal day together?

don't start that shit.

things go wrong. you can't explain it, you can't predict it.

killing yourself won't bring your dad back.

i'm sorry that he died, but that was a long time ago.

you gotta move on.

stop living in the past, and look what you got right in front of you.

what are you saying?

you're going to the hospital.

i'll go, but i'm gonna drive myself.

your car is in a tree around the corner.

you couldn't resist, could you?

wait wait wait. i need therapy?

i didn't say that!

that was a good size twister.

that would be sweet.

[name] is the most outta control son of a bitch in the game!

you guys have got to get some new stories.

i'm gonna go wash up.

we are way too close.

he's naked! he is butt naked!

the twister caught it, and sucked it right up!

you've got a lot of beef.

did you see my cows out front?

we crave sustenance.

we are absolutely not going.

i gotta go.

you'll be safe at the motel.

i'll see you in the morning.

i'm saying goodbye.

i won't be there.

you know what? i can't compete with this.

i don't even know where to start.

don't do this now, please.

the funny thing is... i'm not that upset.

i never meant for any of this to happen.

don't worry about me. i know my way home.

when you used to tell me that you chase tornadoes, deep down i always just thought it was a metaphor.

look, all i'm saying is don't fold the maps.

she did not marry your penis.

where's my truck?

do you want me to drive?

it's a very pretty truck.

don't even think about it.

my god, who are these people?

that's no moon, that's a space station!

did you see that explosion?

so you want the papers?

do you need them right this second?

you act like you're getting married.

it's the wonder of nature, baby!

he really is in love with himself.

have you lost your nerve?

you guys want to wrap this up pretty soon?

i think they're getting better at this.

i am happy. i'm a happy person.

it's gone.

check out that sky!

i think we've seen enough.

can i drive?

you son of a bitch.

what'd you think, i wouldn't find out?

the hell are you talking about?

i think he's a little shaken up.

can you see this?

we do not have a visual.

hey there professor, i think i fixed it.

oh god, he sucks.

christ, i'm sorry! i didn't know!

it was nice meeting you.

time to impress me.

today we're gonna make history.

you go stop it.

i don't know how.

we were lucky.

[marchsfreakshow]

You Over Her! [Dandy Mott]

Angst/fluff

Dandy has taken to you plenty, but Gloria's idea to marry him off causes him to stick to your side like glue.

A request by the wonderful @poeticsorcery <3 thank you for this!

So many ways to execute this idea aaaa I hope this reads well I'm in love with Dandy being clingy to you<33

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Dora could only do so much for the whiny man-child. She could only take so much abuse before you stepped in fully. Sure she still liked cooking, but you had to serve everything to Dandy. If it wasn't given to him by you? Anarchy. Clearly, you didn't love him as much as he thought if you weren't bothering to help out.

Every evening he sat and watched you as you cleaned. Cleaning every inch of the playroom he loved so much. But he adored you more. If your clothes were ever so slightly uncomfortable, they were thrown and new ones were on your bed in the morning. If you slacked off and almost fell asleep, you'd get yelled at before being tucked into the makeshift bed in the playroom. Sweet words whispered, uncomfortably, into your ears as the covers were messily tucked around your body.

"you're so amazing. So perfect. So gorgeous. Everything." He chuckled, staring at your sleeping face. A finger tracing your jaw, nose, and cheeks. Every part of you he needed. Every part.

This routine of you two sharing small stares and smiles through your workday had been fine for the months you stayed. Pay never lowered, and you found yourself silently attached to the brat despite his... tantrums. Whenever you went to bed you pretended to sleep so you could be aware of Dandy's small kiss on your cheek. And to your forehead, to your neck, chest. Never lower. He was a gentleman after all. It was a sweet few months, with sweet talks and treats for your work.

But, fate decided to intervene on the most peaceful day of all. Dora was out. So was Gloria. Dandy was in his playroom with you, watching you as per usual. Watching you move as you adjusted his items, and humming show tunes to yourself. Such a quiet, peaceful day. Until Gloria's shrill voice decided to break your, quiet time with the spoilt man. "I need you out." She mentioned to you. "Dandy! I have someone for you to meet."

Not wanting to upset Gloria, you immediately walked out. But looked a bit sadly at Dandy, who was immediately annoyed to no ends of the earth. A lovely woman, your age was behind Gloria as you walked out. The eye contact with each other was slightly tense. She could tell you wanted to be left alone, but you could tell Gloria's wants. She wanted this girl to marry Dandy. Badly. So much so, that a potential payment was held in the woman's bag. Walking away to Dandy's room, you closed the door, in an attempt to make Gloria happy.

Obviously, you didn't stay in there. You immediately walked back out once you could tell the two ladies were in the playroom. Eavesdropping on the conversation. A very one-sided conversation. Dandy was practically silent as Gloria introduced the woman and practical information about her. You could almost tell Dandy was rolling his eyes and was thinking more about you.

Only a few minutes passed before you heard steps out of the room. So, you just made it seem like you were hanging around, waiting for the conversation to finish. "She's such a cow." You heard before arms wrapped around you, and a face buried itself in your neck. Letting out a small awkward chuckle, eventually, you reciprocated the unexpected affection. In your head, any and all scenarios played out in detail. The worst one you thought of was Dandy killing the lovely lady just because. You knew he wanted to explore murder. He spilled his heart out to you whenever he got a chance.

"Dandy! Please just take a chance on her!" Gloria's slightly uninterested and shrill voice intruded your ears once again. He shook his head silently and stuffed his face in your neck again. If Gloria spoke up again, you might have to punch her.

So that's exactly what you did. She kept pestering Dandy with the call of his name and begging for a wedding. A heavy and annoyed sigh left you and pushed the brat off you (gently of course) before going up to the brat's mother and punching her. You hit her in her nose, causing her to fall back slightly, stumbling as she caught her footing. Your stare was hard, and cold as Gloria examined the blood dripping out of her nose. Oh. Shit. That wasn't meant to happen.

Where was the lovely stranger in all of this? She was stood by one of Dandy's stuffed animals, watching on in fear. A broken nose, yelling and a tantrum wasn't how she saw her day going. She expected to be introduced to her future husband, prepare details, and move in. All with a promise of a good deal, and money. Plenty of it. Everyone was easily swayed by money. And the Mott family had it at their fingertips 24/7. How could such a handsome man be such a baby? It dissuaded her if it wasn't already obvious that marriage would not be taking place.

You? You were getting a gentle kiss on each of your red knuckles, and praises sung in your ear. Dandy was already so swayed by you, and that punch made him fall deeper. Such a strong... persuasive way to tell Gloria no. But she shrieked your name and looked at Dandy with that look she couldn't erase from her eyes. "Why do you insist on staying with this dreadful person?!"

"They're better than some hag who only wants our money!" He raised his voice back, finally hitting rock bottom with his mother. Everything basically collapsed at that point, and the stranger took this opportunity to run out, heading in whatever direction she could so she didn't risk a punch from you. You felt bad for her, only slightly though. Sure she wanted to be married for the money, but you were sure she was a sweet woman.

Minutes of screaming passed and Gloria eventually headed out, down the stairs to 'calm herself down' which left Dandy staring annoyedly at the door to the playroom. The best thing you could think of was to put your hands on his face, staring gently at him. His eyes met yours, and immediately you could tell the brat softened. Dandy's hands pulled you closer, and he almost melted under your touch. "you feeling better now?"

He nodded into your neck, pressing little kisses to the skin he was close to. Any touch on him made him feel better, in any situation. As long as it was you. "How about I marry you instead?"

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tag: @slvt4jamesmarch @fear-is-truth @coentinim @nahoyasboyfriend @bluerthanvelvet444 @starry-eyed-wild-child @babygorewhore

[sydneysageivashkov]

john chapters dashboard simulator

🍉 thegildedflower follow

It's an honour to blog the end of the world with you all

97362 notes

localcryptid 🔁 gaydesandpersephone

🦋 gaydesandpersephone follow

why is everyone more upset about the cows and not the actual people he killed

🕯️localcryptid follow

because cows offer something of value to society and cops don't

39093 notes

🌕 hewhobecamethesun follow

x

2305 notes

🏴‍☠️ edsbonnet follow

oh my god it's not funny that he killed so many living creatures?? killing cows should be considered a serious red flag for the love of god. cows are intelligent animals. they can problem solve. they have best friends. stop memeing about this

#new zealand #cows

7302 notes

🍋 seriousperilforward 🔁 biunderland98

🍋‍🟩 biunderland98 follow

Why take it out on the cows though?

🍋 seriousperilfoward follow

the cows were spies for the government, obviously

241 notes

🥁 gflipsource follow

well of course he used sheep

#kiwi mutuals please don't unfollow I love you I swear #new zealand

12 notes

❓️ pollsotd 🔁 hewhobecamethesun

❓️ pollsotd follow

given the discourse it is time we settle this once and for all. vote now or forever hold your peace.

🌕 hewhobecamethesun follow

he's literally not a necromancer, he's a scientist who discovered new elements

#propaganda

5037 notes

🌜 dulciescollins follow

hillo yewchewb todey I'm redickorating my necromantic lair

🏔 abby-howells follow

you're just jealous you still have the union jack on your flag

813 notes

🌕 hewhobecamethesun follow

idk elon musk's involvement feels like a red flag

539 notes

🌕 hewhobecamethesun follow

they cut my funding I'm gonna [remembers suicide jokes only worsen my mental health] blow up this entire planet

2 notes

[cheapposts]

Scar wakes up and gets to live another day.

It feels so weird. So wrong. Wasn’t he supposed to die in the end? Scar is pretty sure he was. He saw it with his own eyes: every winner before him died in the end. But for some reason, Scar didn’t.

At first he was confused. Maybe there’s been some kind of mistake. Maybe he’ll drop dead any minute now. But then a day came by. Two days. A week. And no god struck him down with a lightning. Scar was becoming more and more weirded out by that. He tried taking matters in his own hands, but no amount of jumping from a cliff to his death led him to freedom. He respawned again and again, wearing the same clothes with poppies and lilacs, having the same red eyes looking back at him from the river, staring at the same shade of red his name had every time he took his communicator in his hand and typed, "Hey?", "Anybody alive?", "Hello?", because what if the reason why he’s still alive is that he’s not actually a winner yet? What if there’s another player, and all he has to do to end this is to find and kill them, or let them kill him? But he never found anyone, and two weeks after the day he won, he stopped searching.

Three weeks after the day Scar won, he already had a new house going on. He settled at the edge of the map near mesa. "Screw this," he figured, "I’m not going to just wander around the land for months if the gods forgot to kill me. I’ll do things!" And things he did. After he was done with his new house, he fixed his old base, and tore down Mumbo's tower, and built a couple of things here and there. It was nice.

The next week was spent relaxing. He tended to his crops and fed cows he’d stolen from someone (not that the person would mind; they were dead). He died once that week and woke up in his bed again, but at that point it was starting to feel normal.

Five weeks after the day Scar won, he finally had to admit that the gods were not going to kill him. That for some reason, they decided to trap him there. Or maybe that’s what their idea of a happy ending was, maybe Scar happened to become the winner of the final game, the final round, and this was his reward. Maybe all the other players have gone home. Maybe Scar’s the only one left behind, and they live on without him.

There was no use in thinking about possibilities. It was only upsetting him. No - terrifying him. Instead, he took the matters in his own hands once again, and paid a visit to The Secret Keeper.

"I don’t want that," he said to it. "If this is my reward, I don’t want it. I want to go home. To Hermitcraft. Back to my friends. Back to where they’re alive."

The Secret Keeper didn’t seem to react. Scar felt his chest heat up with rage.

"Get me out of here!" he yelled, voice wavering. "You psychos! I- I miss my cat!"

The Secret Keeper didn’t answer.

Scar went home, laid down on his bed, and spent the evening thinking about Jellie's warm fur and his friends' smiles.

Scar wakes up and gets to live another day.

[the-somwthing]

Who wants to see how normal I am, AKA,

EVERY SCOTT AND JOEL MOMENT I CAN REMEMBER OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD IN SEASONS 1-4 (still gotta rewatch SL to get a refresher):

- Joel laments about not having dark oak and having to pay Scar for “future dark oak if they find it” even tho he’s SURE they DO have it, then Scott says that there’s dark oak by his house that Joel can have, and along with Jimmy and Martyn they organize a magic show to take down Scar and Grian’s monopoly.

- Joel burns down Scott’s wall 😁🔥 just to make something else burn like he did

- Scott makes fun of how poorly done the burning of the wall was multiple times before finding out who did it

- Joel also lies about doing it

- Joel also tries to murder Scott with a failed anvil trap at his door 💀

- Scott makes fun of how poorly made this trap was as well. Joel also burns the wall again as he runs away

- btw this isn’t in a super chronological order I sometimes remember things later. Like how technically it was Jimmy who started the “Joeleo oh Joeleo, wherefore art thou Joeleo” thing but Scott DID join in on it so

- also COW HEIST 🥳😅 gone wrong. Joel and Martyn try to steal Flower Husbands’ cows. Make a (very bad) deal with Jimmy to get cows. Try to steal again when Scott’s telling Jimmy not to give away cows. Finally make an ACTUAL deal. Make fun of Joel and Martyn having a tough time getting the cows up the cliff.

- Ren: “we have banners all over the server, if you joined us we could easily pinch the middle” Scott: “so Joel? 🤩” Martyn: “BTW Joel’s already with us” Scott: “so we can’t pinch Joel, dang it 😔😒”

- Scott (and Jimmy) threatening to kill Joel’s dogs 💀😁

- Scott making fun of the red army for Joel betraying them

- Scott being willing to forgive Joel for the burning of the wall if he can do them a favor sometime (to which Joel immediately offers 13 cobblestone)

- Scott making a little secret storage area for potions for everyone in the desert faction MINUS Joel because he doesn’t trust him

- OH ALSO Scott mostly just being upset at Joel for LYING about burning his wall

- Scott burning down the wool castle and saying “maybe I do understand why Joel burned my wall. This is very freeing.”

- The fire spreading to Geraldine who was unfortunately left behind, Scott ALMOST saves her before deciding that Joel deserves it

- Scott stopping by Joel’s house and Joel shows up. They talk and decide that they’re allies and won’t come after each other

- Joel gives Scott a house tour

- He also shows Scott his dogs where Scott confesses to burning the castle and causing Geraldine’s death. Joel is sad but says it’s okay

- Also they mention that Jimmy died and Joel goes “I’m glad he died JUST KIDDING we love you Jimmy 🥺😔😭”. I don’t know what to say about this.

- Oh also at some point Joel says (about the roof above his bed being missing) that he likes to look at the stars as he sleeps. This one is a huge stretch and goes into fanon territory with Scott being connected with the stars but it’s a fun fact nonetheless.

- also love the energy of Joel excitedly showing off his dogs to Scott and Scott being like “that’s cool *chuckles nervously*”

- When they’re doing war strategies Scott would often pair himself with Joel. Just sayin.

- Scott, Scar, and Grian are on that stupid platform above Dogwarts. Joel is below them inside Dogwarts with all his dogs. Grian suggests dropping some TNT down onto him to essentially deal with the problem before it becomes their problem (they’re all terrified of Joel and kind of want him to die despite being on their side so that they don’t have to face him when they win the war). Scott gasps at this and seems to want to argue but the logic is sound and he also wants revenge on Joel, so he just covers his eyes but like this 🫣 and says “I can’t watch”. Ultimately they don’t do it.

- Scott and Joel both really want to kill BigB (the last green) and they go together and kill him 🥰

- Once again Scott pairs himself with Joel to attack Ren and Martyn. Bdubs and Impulse volunteer to tag along but end up retreating before being killed like the others.

- Scott is upset that Joel died but also refers to his death as a “slight ‘woo’!” because of the revenge and previously mentioned fear of having to fight him when they’re no longer on the same side

- Scott takes some of Joel’s stuff and declares that his death won’t be in vain

- It was in vain he died again 💔 THEY DIED IN BATTLE TOGETHER AT THE HANDS OF THE SAME KING THEY SPAT IN THE FACE OF 🥰

- Scott is nervous about being Joel’s neighbor in Last Life. And Scar’s for that matter

- After many failed boogey attempts, Joel comes crawling to Scott’s house for one last shot, pretending that Mumbo was the boogeyman and killed him for THAT reason.

- Joel compliments the house (poking fun at Pearl for making Scott do all the work after finding out she didn’t build any of it) and gets them to invite him inside

- He blocks the exit and starts attacking Pearl. He only switched to killing Scott because he was defending her like a boss. He kills Scott and gets cured, but Scott’s like “PEARL, KILL HIM!!” so yeah.

- They get the enchanting table off his dead body and make fun of him for having that on him while trying to kill people, and they keep it as a reward

- I don’t have the memory to be so descriptive. Joel targets Scott’s base many times, the TNT minecart door trap, the trap at the gate that actually worked, blowing up his roof with minecarts, attempting to grief his water elevator, surrounding the base in walls of lava…

- Scott tells Lizzie that her husband keeps trying to murder him. She says that he does that to her, too, and it’s “a sign that he loves you”. Scott says “oh” and IMMEDIATELY moves on

- Scott kills Joel at the end 😁 As a desperate attempt to get them to not kill him Joel yells “TEAM?” lmao

- start of Double Life they run the same direction at the beginning and kind of yell at each other before finally managing to go separate ways

- Scott of course makes fun of Joel’s death because of the way he and Etho were acting. Not to Joel’s face tho.

- Scott compliments the Relation Ship multiple times

- Scott visits the Relation at some point when Joel is there and just vents to him about Pearl. Joel sympathizes with him.

- Multiple times Scott says that he thinks the Boat Boys are good

- Joel kills Pearl but like Scott had nothing to do with that despite also dying

- Scott burns down the Relation cuz he felt like it 😁🔥

- Joel wants Scott dead soso bad

- Joel kills Scott with a rocket while Scott tries to hit him with a bucket of water. 🥰💀

- Then um there was something about a nether portal trap uh for some reason Joel’s not here anymore guess we move on to next season

- After the boogey reroll Scott hears Joel complain about not being boogeyman and says “good to know it’s not you!”

- They go into a ravine cave together. They both saw an emerald ore but Scott mines it

- Joel asks where the emerald is and Scott says he mined it and asks if Joel wanted it. He says yes and Scott gives him the emerald. He calls it an Emerald Of Trust.

- Joel thinks it’s really nice and gives Scott a piece of bamboo in return, which Scott is happy about.

- They are stuck bonding in the stupid cave together because neither of them have much food except Scott’s cooking kelp and sharing it with Joel, so they have to wait for the kelp to cook, split it between the two of them, eat it (NOT FILLING AT ALL), and heal, just a very long process.

- Eventually Joel feels ready to leave and get better food.

- Next time Scott sees Joel, he’s with Jimmy and apparently they are now bad boys

- He watches as Joel washes away carpet like a real bad boy

- As Scott leaves Joel begs him to tell everyone that he and Jimmy are bad boys (this is one that I remember from Joel’s POV, pretty much the only thing on the list that isn’t Scott’s POV lol well actually there was probably another)

- Scott decides to live in the ocean. Joel is upset because HE wanted to live in the ocean.

- Scott watches Joel kill TIES cow for the second time

- While having a hashtag flower husbands moment Scott helps trying to put out the fire on the mansion (too late tho nobody could stop THAT)

- oh I almost forgot. After making his island Scott puts a chest on it to “dump random junk he doesn’t need to keep on him” and AS HE SAYS THIS he hovers over the bamboo Joel gave him and doesn’t put it in the chest. I know it’s moreso because it’s a resource but like.

- Also we all know what ended up happening with that bamboo gift! It surrounds the Coral Isles!

- Anyways Scott needs some carpet for his farm so he goes to the bad boys to ask for carpet. Grian and Jimmy tell him to strike a deal with Joel since he’s the one who has all the carpet. Scott walks over to Joel and says “remember when we bonded in the cave?” and Joel hands him the carpet. Scott says “yay 🥳 good boys! 🥰” and the bad boys are horrified, tell him to never say that again they are BAD BOYS and make him leave.

- (also may be worth mentioning that from what I can tell, Joel didn’t have that carpet on him, and actually ran to grab it as soon as Scott asked)

- god that ^ was all session one. ANWYAYS Joel asks people for gold and in exchange they can have unlimited bread. Scott and Impulse give Joel gold.

- At some point Scott goes to collect some free unlimited bread. Grian and Jimmy stop him like “WHAT are you doing ✋🤨 only IMPULSE has unlimited bread” and Scott says “no I have it too go ask Joel” so they go to Joel and say “WHAT is this about SCOTT having unlimited bread…” and Joel just goes “yup Scott gets unlimited bread 👍” so Scott collects his bread while the other bad boys are just so disappointed in Joel

- Now is where I lost track of the timeline, but I remember once or twice Scott would just be talking usually to himself like “the bad boys are truly the good boys of the server 🥰😇”

- Despite this Scott eventually becomes scared of Joel because he did the math and realized that he’s got so many allies who won’t attack him, and the people who aren’t his allies would likely be too scared to attack Scott EXCEPT Joel.

- And Scott was spot on because he was just chilling when out of nowhere Joel just charges at him yelling “SCOTT YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT” and of course after a little more chasing “SCOTT YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN STUPID”

- Scott manages to get away and thinks that Joel’s lines were really funny and pathetic and is no longer afraid of him

- Bad Boys try to trap Mean Gills’ secret bed but they get foiled

- The usual Joel wants to kill Scott really bad

- Scott’s like “we have to eliminate Joel” and gets the Clockers to help because he killed them

- Joel is terrified the entire time lmao. I remember “then why is your voice higher pitched?” “BECAUSE IM SCARED” “that’s what I thought” as he lets Joel get away ahahdg

- OH I ALMOST FORGOT Scott letting Jimmy kill him for time and Joel trying to steal the kill cuz lol.

- Back to Scott terrifying Joel. That one time he tells Joel to leave Scar alone and Joel just goes “..ok”

- And then of course Scott kills Joel again 🥳😍 surely this won’t happen again 💀

- OTHER THING I FORGOT TO MENTION CUZ IM MOSTLY GOING OFF MY MEMORY OF THE MORE RECENTLY WATCHED SCOTT POV Joel always destroying Scott’s walls cuz tradition.

So yeah this was all just off the top of my head without looking at anything. I’d love to make a new version when I rewatch SL and/or Joel’s POVs. This proves that I’m normal right

[tunastime]

Sunset in the Heart of that Green Valley

started drumming up an au accidentally with some input from the mutuals beloved. told myself it wasn't going anywhere but this so I had to stick as much as I could into just. this. I SWEAR. < lying

Bdubs can't remember a part of his life without Etho--no matter the shape or profession, the danger or lackthereof. It was always Etho, and himself, and this wild, wasted world. Or, Bdubs watches his cows on the farm. Etho joins him on his horseback ride around the perimeter fence.

(4111 words)

It's a long, slow ride a mile from the wire fence and sparse tree line that borders the ranch. It's nothing but cool wind and wiregrass for miles, soft green and brown as the spring starts to roll in. Soon enough the field will be full of baby calves and their healthy mamas, big brown eyes and full stomachs. Horses too—lots of 'em, kind natured but tough, enough to fight you but not enough to bite the hand that feeds 'em. He'll be able to lift a foal into his arms to stand it upright and watch its mother nose his armpit and look at him with those soft brown eyes. For now, BdoubleO takes that long ride along the border, listening to cicadas sing in the trees. That's not the only thing singing though. Besides the breathing of his horse beneath him and the cattle dog that runs ahead, is the soft, mellow voice of his partner, Etho, humming indistinctly. 

He has his head turned toward the tree line, eyes scanning listlessly for any sign of movement. Just a couple of weeks ago, they lost a handful of chickens to a fox, a thing neither of them could stand to kill even as they went looking for it. From where he rides next to him, Bdubs can see the holster for his revolver strapped tight to his thigh. He's never actually seen the gun, for what it's worth. Not in action. Not even the smell of gunpowder on Etho's leather work gloves. He's only ever watched his thin, strong, meticulous hands clean the individual parts and put it back together. It makes sense why Etho's focus is so drawn to that tree line. He probably doesn’t want it to happen again.

Bdubs watches the curve of his shoulders under the off-white button-up he's wearing. It's loose at his elbows and under his arms, but from the way he slouches, hat tipped back to cover his neck, it's tight across his back. Bdubs sighs—for a moment, that's the only thing that breaks the silence. Bdubs' longing rings out in the stale air, and a chuckle joins the hum of that wordless melody.

"Somethin' the matter, 'dubs?" Etho says, glancing over. He can just hear him through the scarf tucked around his face, tied behind his neck. His hair is tucked under his hat, tied away nearly the same. Its just his eyes, warm and smiling, eyebrows raised, when he looks over. Bdubs scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"No," he says. "Nothin's the matter. What's it to ya, anyway?"

Etho shrugs. He shuts his eyes for a second when he does. Bdubs can picture the little frown on his face when he does.

"Figured I'd ask," he says cooly. "That was a pretty profound sigh."

"Nothin' for you to worry about," Bdubs gripes. He taps Lacey with his heels and she meanders forward, huffing out through her nose. He hears Etho laugh as he pulls away, and it's only a second before Etho's at his side again. He tugs Bdubs' hat over his eyebrows.

"Don't be like that, 'dubs!" Etho pouts. "You sounded upset."

"Quit teasin' me," Bdubs grumbles, swatting at him with the hand not wrapped around the reigns. Lacey patters to a stop as Bdubs slackens on the reigns, trying to grab Etho's hat. Etho ducks his head.

"Bdubs!" He laughs, pushing his hands away.

"Quit!"

"You quit!"

Bdubs huffs again, shrinking back, then straightens. Etho's turned away from him, all of a sudden. Bdubs goes to speak, but as he does, he hears Etho say something so quiet it's felt more than heard. 

It's sunset, he's just realized. The orange light leaks through gaps in the trees, casting gold bars over the wheatgrass and dry dirt. He can see light blue leaking into orange, pink, yellow, blending into white clouds above him. This time, the profound sigh whistles out of Etho's chest. Bdubs bites his tongue. Haloed by the gold light, Etho looks like the type of things only lonely cowboys dream about. The perfect outlaw, or the hardworking ranch hand, or the kindhearted sheriff looking for love. The things you read in dime novels, no matter the flavor of romance. Bdubs feels his heart squeeze, the want pooling in his elbows and the joint of his hips. He won't sigh again, or make any other sound, not as long as Etho watches the sunset. 

"Wow," Etho mumbles. His horse snorts. Etho huffs a laugh, reaching just far enough to pet between his ears. "Wow..."

"It's gorgeous," Bdubs says. He'd be lying if he said he was talking about the sunset.

Etho turns back to him after a beat. Bdubs's eyes flick up to his face, tilting his head a little as Etho's soft eyes linger on him. He can see the indistinct scarring up part of his face, near his eye and eyebrow. Tugging off his gloves, Bdubs raises a careful hand up to Etho's face. There, he tucks two fingers in the space between his cheek and the scarf over his face, and tugs it down. Etho doesn't stop him. In fact, he's smiling just so when Bdubs does. He's got nothing to hide, really—the scarf is for the dust, more than anything else. He scrunches his nose as the scarf falls around his neck.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Bdubs says softly. His hand cups Etho's cheek, thumb smoothing over the rough, scarred skin of his left cheek. Fire. They're all healed burns. His thumb dances over them anyway, like he'd never seen them or brushed them or kissed them before. Two long strands of hair frame Etho's face. Here, Bdubs tucks one of them behind his ear, still moving to cradle his face. The look that passes over him makes Bdubs' stomach fold over. He's smiling, wide and soft, and his eyes shut as he leans into Bdubs' palm.

"Hiya, Bdubs," Etho mumbles. His voice hits a low octave as he whispers. Bdubs flushes. Etho's hand falls to Bdubs' hip, both steadying for himself and for Bdubs' balance, thumb pressed into his hipbone as he leans forward into Bdubs' space. Etho's hand comes to tip his hat back as far as it'll go before it knocks from his head, scrunching up his nose as Bdubs' flush grows a little warmer, a little further over his cheeks and ears. He's smiling, though, and so is Etho. Bdubs can't help it—he was just so damn handsome, that stupid cowboy. Damn him. He keeps himself lingering in Etho's space for a beat longer, tracing out the high of his cheek with his thumb. The sun's still setting, warm and orange behind him. He can't even see stars yet. 

"Can we stay?" Bdubs asks, sighing out his nose. His eyes flick behind Etho's shoulder for a moment, watching the bars of light through the trees. "Just to watch?"

Etho smiles, his eyes going all soft and round like they do when Bdubs says something he particularly likes. Must've liked that, then. He noses Bdubs' palm just a little, looking up into the sky before settling on Bdubs' face again.

"Sure," Etho mumbles. "Why not? Stars haven't even come out yet."

Bdubs grins, knocking their foreheads together, a soft laugh bubbling up in his chest before it leaves him with his exhale. Etho scrunches his nose. 

Leaning forward as far as he can, Etho kisses him. His warm, gloved hand fits over the back of his neck, brushing through the close cropped hair there. His lips are chapped from the dusty air, but they're dry and warm and Bdubs feels Etho hum against his mouth. He presses back and up into him, free hand falling to his knee to stabilize himself. Etho pulls in a fast breath through his teeth and kisses him again, firm but gentle. Bdubs shuts his eyes and keeps them shut, feeling Etho's hand curl against the base of his skull, feeling them work in tandem with each other. It's nice and easy and tender in a way that curls up in Bdubs' chest and rests there, calmly. It's sweeter than anything else he knows, or damn near close to it. 

He smiles against his lips, dragging his thumb in a slow line across the rippled scar on his cheek. He's so gentle with him, Etho is, as he is with Etho, up until the point of course that they're chasing each other around on foot and on horseback and scrapping in the dirt just to prove a point. But here it's intentional. Bdubs rubs his cheek and that scar so Etho knows he wants to feel it He wants to feel where it starts at the high of his cheekbone and ends just under the low dip of his eye, how the uneven surface gives to smoother skin, how it’s all patches of rough and light. He wants to see that it cuts through his eyelid and eyebrow and that the eyebrow never really grew back and his hearing wasn't always that good in that ear. He wants to. He loves him. To love Etho was to love each thing he called an imperfection. 

"I'll be damned, cowboy," he mumbles under his breath. Etho laughs, just a little, from somewhere high in his chest.

"What's that?" he asks, crushing his cheek into the heel of Bdubs' hand. Bdubs shakes his head.

"Nothin', gorgeous."

"Mmh," Etho agrees. Bdubs can tell his face is warm from more than just the desert heat. 

"You liked that, mm?" he says. He leans up to kiss Etho just once, sighing out through his nose.

Etho nods, stilted, still flushing as Bdubs draws himself and his hand away. There's a moment that Etho's hand stays warm and solid on his hip and the back of his neck. His dark eyes sweep over him, the clouded vision of his left still trying to focus on Bdubs' face. A soft smile lingers on his face, lifting the edges just enough to form the smile lines Bdubs loves to kiss. They're there more often than not, still fading as Etho's face softens, as he takes care to wash the grime off and soothe his skin with beeswax. They linger for a second before they, and Etho, draw away, settling back on his saddle and sitting up. He stretches, screwing up his expression as Bdubs hears his spine pop.

"Augh," he vocalizes. Bdubs snorts as Lacey does, shuffling her hooves in the dry grass. 

"Let's get a move on then, old man," Bdubs teases, reaching for his reins and to prod the soft of Etho's knee. Etho jerks, trotting his horse a step away from Bdubs hands. There, he sticks out his tongue, fixes his hat, and tucks the bandana around his nose again. There's that familiar shape—sheriff to outlaw, the line of Etho's eyes honing his gaze to razor sharp. Bdubs sighs, letting himself laugh, before he jerks his head forward, pushing his hat back onto his head. He prods Lacey with the heels of his boots and she steps forward into a jog.

Above his head, the wink of stars begin to shine in the dull, pale blue sky. He can still see the lick of orange light like flames above the treeline, cascading over the red-grey and sparse green hills, framing Etho in a delicate picture. Bdubs grins, eyes settling on his partner behind him. He sees Etho's eyes squint as he presumably smiles. Nudging a little more, Bdubs brings Lacey up to a trot, and further to a canter as he hears Etho laugh, loud and clear across the planes, behind him.

In the distance, he can see the warm cast of oil lamps they lit before they left. As much as Bdubs' bones crave the man not even a few yards behind him, they ache for the cool halls of their house, warm coffee, and the light he can just barely catch in the rising night.

Later that night, Bdubs scrapes congealed fat out of the cast iron skillet Etho cooked in. His body and stomach are heavy with the meal they’ve just finished, beans and pork and cornmeal grits, the taste of whatever last few seasonings Etho had thrown in still lingering between his teeth. He scrubs the pan in the hot water, feeling out what were nicks in the pan and what was dirt. He’d hate to ruin the seasoning they’d just built up on the pan. He raises it from the soapy water after a moment, giving it a good shake as his eyes track over the dusty-grey surface. Clean as can be. As he finishes, toweling off his hands as he lays the skillet to dry, he turns back to the room behind him. 

It’s starting to smell a bit like coffee and a bit like woodfire smoke, the embers of their fireplace and stove fire still filling the room. Etho has tucked himself on the couch, knitted blanket draped over his shoulders and a book open on his folded legs. That was one thing about the desert that Bdubs never got used to—it got cold quickly. The air seeped the heat right out of the ground, right underneath your feet, as soon as the lick of sunshine from the day was gone. Etho had the right idea, curling himself into the smallest spot on their worn couch, blanket drawn tight around him, enough to where only his socked feet poked out. He’d tied his long hair up and away from his face, stark white locks delicately balanced on the top of his head. Bdubs hums as he wanders over. 

Etho picks up his head, blinking slowly at him. His gaze seems far away as it pins on him.

“Hi, Etho,” Bdubs says, scrunching up his nose. “You fall asleep on me after dinner?”

“Mm?” Etho questions. He shakes his head. “No, no, never.”

Bdubs snorts. As he stands beside the front of the couch, Etho’s hand comes out, his cold fingers wrapping around Bdubs’ wrist. Bdubs makes a small, startled sound, but lets Etho tug him forward and onto the couch beside him. He was deceptively strong—it was the one thing nobody would guess about him. Well—maybe not the only thing. Etho’s life, much like his own, was so different compared to the docile, almost domestic, ranch life they’d build together. Bdubs sinks into the couch cushions, and not even a beat later, Etho leans his back against his arm. Bdubs’ hum peters into a giggle.

“Y’know,” he starts. “I’m not sure I believe you. I think you might me lyin’ to me, Etho.”

“Mm? About what?”

Bdubs shrugs.

“Dunno, you looked pretty dang tired a second ago.”

Etho shakes his head, leaning back a little further. Bdubs gets the message. He shifts around until his leg hooks under Etho’s arm, until Etho can settle back and rest his head and back against Bdubs’ chest. The book rests on Etho’s shins now, all but forgotten as Etho tips his head back to take a look at Bdubs behind him. He seems satisfied with what he sees, because he shuffles to get comfortable.

“I don’t know about that,” Etho drawls, a smile tugging at his mouth. Bdubs scoffs. He kisses the top of Etho’s head, hands cupping around his ears to hold his head still. He feels that smile tug at his cheeks a little more and nuzzles his head for good measure.

“Alright,” he placates. “I’ll believe you for now.”

Etho hums, satisfied.

“Good.”

Bdubs lets his hands fall to Etho’s shoulders. As Etho reaches to pick up his book from his lap, Bdubs shifts him a bit more, sitting upright. His hands fall to Etho’s upper back, before he starts to shift his hair, unweaving it from where it had balanced atop his head. Etho seems to pick up on his message, sitting forward a bit as Bdubs begins to comb his fingers through Etho’s white hair. 

It’s much longer than it’s ever been, Bdubs thinks—it must be. He doesn’t think it’s ever been past his shoulders when they were together before, and definitely not when Etho was a sheriff. He’d never get away with hair past his shoulders. It was bad enough that he got so many nasty scars from scrapes and threats and whatever people threw at him. Bdubs smooths his hand down the back of his neck, feeling out the base of his skull. It’s painful to think of what Etho had to get through to get here. His hair must be a testimony to that, the fine, white-blond strands reaching to just past his shoulderblades. Bdubs is careful as he weaves his hands through, tucking stray strands behind Etho’s ears, combing back from his widow’s peak to the base of his head. 

He was a criminal before he was a sheriff—Bdubs remembers that. He remembers it because he was one, too. Pretty damn good. It was hard, though. Hard on Etho, who was just trying to do something with his life, to put his artistry to work, his craftsmanship. When he finally landed a job, the gang was already falling apart. He wasn’t even the first to leave—someone left for a damn sheriff. And Bdubs had laughed, then. He watched Etho set his hat on Bdubs head and felt those now memorized, strong hands squeeze his shoulders. 

He found him again when Etho walked past the tiny 3-by-3 cell Bdubs had managed to worm his way into. Wasn’t that a sight for sore eyes? The fine line of Etho’s jaw cuffed by a high collared marshal's uniform, badge and all, hat pulled low over his eyes. He hadn’t meant to lock himself up in there, but as soon as he was out, he promised Etho he’d never go back. And he never did. He sat himself at the strong wooden desk catty-corner to Etho’s and dispensed justice like he’d never done a wrong deed in his life. They were fair, though. Nothing but fair. No blood but on their teeth or nose or throat. No blood on their hands.

Etho sighs warmly as Bdubs starts to braid his hair. He keeps a firm hold on the strands he weaves in and out of each other, working slowly and carefully as he absorbs himself in thought. He was there for a lot of Etho’s life. But he wasn’t there when Etho got his scar. He only saw it afterwards, during that first time he saw him from that cell. 

Etho had described it late one night, after all was said and done between them, their bodies pressed so close in the same, small bed in Etho’s home that there wasn’t a molecule of space left. He’d let Bdubs trace the valleys and ridges of the burnt skin, tucked his face into Bdubs neck to breathe out a wet sigh. Coals and fire—not an accident like Bdubs had always presumed. He’d weaseled himself out of their gang of bandits, but it’s not always that the life of bandits leaves you. He’d messed up an order for another group, he’d said, when he finally got a job as a metalsmith. Too few bullets. It was a lie. He’d known from the shape of the man's mouth as he’d spoken it, but his face found the furnace regardless. Hot ash, coals, smoke in the back of his throat. It had been a long time since he’d been really able to see out of that eye. It hurt to read. It was too blurry to focus. 

Now, Bdubs knows, Etho focuses and reads just fine. And Bdubs drags his fingers over his skin like it were any other part of him to touch. And touch he did. Hey! He wasn’t ashamed of himself! He spent a good few years loving this man and he was allowed to love him right and true. Whatever Etho wanted, Etho could have. He’d build him a terracotta and tile ranch house, with darkened oak and stained wood floors, a fireplace big enough to hang a kettle in, horses, cows, dogs, cats, wheatfields tall enough to lose himself in. The rolling hills of the valley were endless. They’d find a homestead, a life, friends, family, anywhere they went. And so they went. And they found the ones they’d loved all along just as they thought they would. 

Bdubs cards his fingers through the braided hair for a final time, letting it hang loose and wavy around Etho’s shoulders. He instead maps the rise of his spine with his palm, listening to Etho hum and feeling his heartbeat.

“How’s your book?” Bdubs asks softly. Etho nods.

“Good,” he says, just as quiet. “It’s a real tough read, ‘Dubs.”

Bdubs glances over his shoulder as Etho leans back into his chest, trying to catch a glimpse at the cover. Etho’s tucked the book under his knee, though. He can’t even peek at the type of book it is.

“Mm?” he says. “Is that so?”

“Mmmhm,” Etho drawls. “I’m real deep into some equations that I can’t wrap my head around. It’s this long complicated thing that’s supposed to help determine scale and size of the fractal-izing of light, and how we can use planetary distances to figure it out.”

Bdubs blinks, scoffing. 

“Etho,” he hums.

“I’m trying to figure out how this could be relevant for our growing seasons and how I can best predict rainfall in the valley—”

“Etho—”

“And I’m sure Tango will want to know all about it considering he’s making that huge telescope, don’t you think—”

Bdubs thwaps his head laughing.

“Quit!”

Etho laughs, reaching back to grab at Bdubs hands on his head. They swat uselessly at each other for a moment.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you, Etho?” Bdubs grumbles.

“You’re just jealous because I understand math,” Etho jeers. “It has nothing to do with how smart I am.”

“Sure it doesn’t,” Bdubs huffs. “I bet you read the almanac in your spare time!”

Etho gasps, but the gravitas and dramatic turn he does to worm away from Bdubs is enough to hint that he’s doing it for a reason. He scrambles back, tucking his book behind him as he does. Blue cover. Bdubs doesn’t know many books with a blue cover. Maybe it is the almanac after all.

“How dare you insult my knowledge of flowers, Bdubs!” Etho gasps. “I just know all those things.”

“All those things about the regional weather, too?”

Etho nods, trying to hold back a smile. Liar.

“Mhm,” he says. “All of it. I’ve known it since I was a wee little boy, ‘Dubs.”

Bdubs rolls his eyes.

“I’m sure,” he placates. “Nothin’ to do with how we just moved here a year and a half ago, no?”

Etho shakes his head.

“Not at all. I’ve known it all my life,” Etho says. He can’t fight the smile this time, or the way he draws out the a of his word, his smile growing with it. He finally cracks enough to giggle and Bdubs swats his knee. Etho sticks his tongue out at him.

“And what’s the almanac say about me?” Bdubs asks, watching Etho shuffle back into his corner, looking comfortable. He tilts his head a little, eyebrows furrowing.

“You?” Etho says. “I don’t know. Nothing—I’ve never read it. I doubt they put people in it.” Then Etho smiles, adding: “I can check my book on 100 facts about B-double-O, though.”

Bdubs startles.

“Your book on what?”

Etho snorts, tipping his head back, laughter bubbling out of him. Bdubs jabs him with his socked foot and Etho curls further into himself, still giggling. Bdubs can’t help but smile, though, watching Etho break into a giggling fit over his stupid comment. He rolls his eyes as he peels himself off the couch and over to their bookshelf. Standing there for a moment, feeling the cold seep slightly into his clothes, Bdubs scans for a book. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for yet, but he’ll know it when he sees it. 

In the meantime, he halfway searches for that obviously fake book Etho had mentioned. He snorts, just to himself. A hundred facts, huh?

Plucking one of his well-worn novels from the shelf, Bdubs turns back to the couch. He drops a kiss to the crown of Etho’s head as he passes and Etho is quick enough to pull him down to kiss his cheek. It’s worth it, though, as Bdubs tucks himself back against the other side of the couch and Etho’s legs tangle with his. He loves the stupid smile on Etho’s face too much to care about much else.

[simplepotatofarmer]

how Does techno feel about animal deaths? Dsmp did have that reputation of killing off pets, did he ever harm any of them or is that a line he does not cross?

one of the c!techno moments i remember the most is from the pet wars when he was protecting max the fox. he gave max a speed potion. he kept saying not to hurt or kill max.

when c!tommy insisted more than once that techno would, in fact, kill c!sapnap's pets, techno was confused and said he wouldn't.

he gave jack's fox a golden apple. he was upset over the killing of his cows and panicked when he thought carl was going to die and was upset at the idea of zombies crushing his turtle eggs.

but there's also times when an animal dies or is harmed around him that he's fairly apathetic about it.

so i think... i think c!techno is like a farmer.

someone who loves his pets and treats them well and never wants to cause them harm and will actually go to lengths to protect them and just. random other animals. but also does know that if you're gonna eat beef, you gotta kill the cows, y'know? and sometimes the cop who kidnapped your friend's son is just gonna kill a horse and all you can do is add that to your mental list of reasons why you'll be chill locking him in a prison with no food.

nuance!

[canarydarity]

(haha happy new year! Heres 6K words of DL ranchers fighting 🤩 [ao3]) dull&slow

There was no feeling like a respawn; it was like jumping off of a building with nothing below to catch you, only to discover you had in fact been fastened into a harness when the bungee cord snapped taut. Except, it also wasn’t like that at all, because the mechanics of respawning—regardless of permanence—did nothing to curb the feeling of death, the actual sensation of dying. All it really did was remove the relief that one might experience had death been final, for what is death but a merciful release from pain? 

Jimmy imagined that there were few things that could even begin to feel like what a respawn did—the simultaneous cracking of all your joints at once in a manner akin to a human glow stick; ice cream that had been left out on the counter to melt but was then shoved back into the freezer again after only making it to that indescribably viscous stage between solid and liquid; a jam in a paper shredder—the kind where half of the page is relieved and sticking out of the top, completely intact and fine, while the rest is in ribbons below, still warm to the touch at the recent dismemberment. 

And that was only the physical aspect—the violent draw of your subconscious from the brink of death to perfect health mid-panic was something else entirely. It never got any easier, no matter how many times he did it (and Jimmy did it a lot). 

This was their second respawn, but it was different in the way that it happened unlike it did the first time: together. It was new but not unexpected to shoot up in bed at the ranch, cows mooing to his left and moonlight peaking through the window to his right. Jimmy heaved some breaths in and out; logically, he knew he was fine, but his body remembered the vertigo of falling. 

Tango was next to him, still lying back in their small bed staring at the ceiling. 

For a few beats, they were quiet, they caught their breath. The buzz of the cicadas outside was heavy in a way, droning alongside the cacophony of cows and the muted clucks of chickens from below ground. 

When his eyes began to itch and dry out from staring at nothing and his heaving sounded more like huffing, Jimmy broke the silence first. 

“I was leanin’ over the edge…why was I leaning over the edge?” His words were incredulous and barely there, only formed enough to actually get them out of his mouth but not any further. Had Tango not been right next to him, he probably wouldn’t have heard. 

Tango sat up, “Jim, hey–hey!” One of Tango’s hands reached behind Jimmy and settled on his shoulder, the other moved across himself to settle on Jimmy’s arm. “It’s okay! It’s only our second life, it was bound to happen sooner or la—”

Jimmy blinked out of his daze to realize Tango was soothing him; It was not shocking in the way it hadn’t happened before—it had actually, in fact, happened quite often—but in the way it was happening now. the combination of noises pushing in all around the ranch, having just lived through dying, again, and Tango’s warmth that he would’ve appreciated any other time, made it all immediately too much. Tango was soothing him—Tango misunderstood. 

It was instinct to throw Tango’s arm off of him, to scatter, to stand and create distance, and had Jimmy been in the right state of mind he would’ve explained that and apologized, but Tango’s shocked offense was the last thing he was focusing on. 

“No, you—why was I leaning over the edge?” 

It was the only thought that had run through his head since he’d woken up and stopped feeling like an egg mid-scramble. Not worry about being on red life, not concern about having been the one to return the favor of killing Tango this time, not upset that things were shaping up like they always did. 

Tango wasn’t necessarily wrong to assume that that’s where Jimmy’s thoughts had gone, as that’s usually where they would have. But this was not Jimmy when he was anxious, when he was guilty; This was Jimmy when he was mad.

He was pacing, but he wasn’t aware when it had started. He was just—he couldn’t stop thinking about fish. Or—no, not fish, parasites; there was this parasite he’d heard about that matures in the eye of a fish but reproduces in the belly of a bird. Jimmy had heard this and thought what a stupid, impossible thing—and he’d thought he had shit luck.  

That was until he’d heard the rest. Under control of the parasite, infected fish swim closer and closer to the surface of the water, leading it to be spotted and picked up by a bird; the parasite ends up where it needed to be all along, and that damned stupid fish is what gets it there. It doesn’t know what it’s doing, it’s not choosing to swim near the surface—by that point, the parasite is choosing for it—but it’s still— 

It just—

The fish gets itself eaten, essentially. The scariest part, Jimmy thought, was that he wasn’t sure the fish even knew. Was it aware it had been infected? Or was it swimming up and up and up and thinking what the fuck am I doing? Was it resting precariously below the surface, watching in fear as the birds circle, knowing all it had to do to avoid being eaten was swim the fuck back down, but for some reason, it just couldn’t?

Jimmy just—why was he leaning over the edge? His hands were wrapped around his stomach, griping his sides, hard. His teeth were grinding together, or he was biting his lip, or he was mumbling nonsense that even he didn’t know what meant. 

The floorboards of the ranch creaked and groaned with his pacing, and Tango remained watching from the bed, his face still painted in confusion. 

A noise—something caught between a whine and a grumble—worked its way out of Jimmy's throat, and more words came with it.  

“I saw them with their bows and arrows out—Joel, Etho, Scott—and I—” He shook his head. “We’d have been fine if I just didn’t peak my head over!” 

Jimmy turned back to Tango and pointed at him; Tango blinked, but the accusation delivered wasn’t for him. “And they weren’t even shooting at Grian, at—why weren’t they shooting at anyone else?”

Tango shook his head a little, opened his mouth to reply, but Jimmy wasn’t done. “I don’t understand—I don’t—” he grabbed at his hair and pulled; he bit into his lip again, not stopping when it started to hurt even though he knew Tango must’ve felt the ghost of it too. Jimmy rocked in place, “I even thought it. I thought ‘what are you leaning over the edge for, idiot!’ And then!” 

Jimmy spun, but no form of movement could match the direction of his thoughts, the restlessness of his mind. He felt like he was malfunctioning, every action begun and then subsequently aborted in favor of another; as if he could stop it all if he could just get himself to feel physically how he felt mentally, equilibrium a sort of saving grace. 

Jimmy hit himself in the head once like he could knock things back into place, fix whatever was loose in there–get the paper to start shredding again; in pieces, maybe, things would be okay. There was a call behind him of stop that, hey, none of that! and the bed creaked as Tango finally made the move to stand. 

“I don’t understand,” Jimmy mumbled again. They were inside, but his hair still felt the wind ruffle through it as though he were at high altitude; his hands touched nothing, but he could grip the hardwood of the defense tower all the same, rough and splintering. Joel and Etho had stood so far below, looking up, each with a hand up to their eyes to shield them from the sun. Jimmy remembered every detail about that moment—Grian had been leaning over right next to him. “Stupid parasite and it—why weren’t they shooting at anyone else? All I had to do was not lean over…”

Jimmy startled when Tango spoke again, he’d forgotten for a moment he wasn’t alone. 

“I don’t follow—parasite? What pa—”

Right, he wasn’t alone. 

“Gosh, and I’ve killed you, too, we’re–we’re red!” Jimmy said, facing Tango again. “And we’re back to nothing, we’ve lost everything—the horns, they’d have taken them by now, surely.” The anger from before seeped back into his voice, and Tango kept his space; a part of Jimmy felt bad at that, but he mostly felt validated. The guilt would come later, his chest didn’t house the room to feel so many things at once. 

Though space didn’t mean Tango was willing to stay out of things completely. 

“Jimmy, just hold on, I can’t keep up.” Tango was clearly still thrown by the direction things had gone in—he’d been expecting to reassure, not pacify—but Jimmy didn’t have it in him to stop and explain. His hands out like he was corralling a feral animal, he said, “What are you even…? Slow down, alright.” 

And maybe that was the last straw—his soulmate, known for his rage, asking him to calm, to slow down; the stark contrast between the Tango standing in front of him—hands splayed, face confused but determined—and the Tango who’d needed to be restrained as the ranch smoldered behind them; the fact that it was Jimmy who was being looked at like a time bomb with not even 5 seconds left to spare. 

This time, the accusation was meant for Tango, and Jimmy watched him stumble a little in shock when he received it. He threw his hand out like he’d needed that extra strength to pull the question from him, like his throat wasn’t up for the challenge alone, like he had to prove this was something he wanted to start and start now.  

“Why aren’t you mad?”

Tango’s face wound up with disbelief. “What?” 

Jimmy’s voice wasn’t made to be raised, but he gave it his best effort. It hurt, in a way—his throat not used to the coarse delivery; it hurt more for the fact that he’d made Tango the object of its direction. 

“You’re sitting here, and you’re calm,” he spat. “And—and you’re telling ME to be calm! Me!” Jimmy huffed again at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. “Why aren’t you mad?”

This time as Jimmy spoke, Tango wound down; he visibly CTRL+ALT+DLT-ed, a total system shutdown reboot. His hands dropped back to his sides and he stood up straighter. His face reset until he was just blankly watching Jimmy sputter and steam. He was still in a way Tango rarely was.

Jimmy thought it was the most un-Tango-like thing he’d ever seen, and that just made things worse. 

“Because it was going to happen either way, I could’ve just as eas—” its delivery was flat, like Tango knew he was stepping off of a bear trap but onto a landmine; though he did it anyway, and in most circumstances, his dedication to the idea of if at first you don’t succeed! was something Jimmy found endearing. If it wasn’t clear enough already, this was not most circumstances. 

Jimmy made a noise of dissent. This wasn’t—

“No, not—that’s not what I meant.”

A few beats of silence. They argued with the awkward hesitation of two people who’d never fought before and therefore didn’t know the procedure; neither of them had had time to memorize their lines. Fight was something they didn’t do—partially because they hadn’t been together long enough to garner the need, and partially because they got along with a simplicity they hadn’t expected. There was a question in this lapse between one comment and the next, an are we really going to do this?  

Tango blinked at Jimmy. “You don’t mean why am I not mad at you?” 

It would’ve been an easy out if he had. A way to walk them back to familiar ground—the kind where Jimmy was apologetic and guilty and anxious and Tango was steady and reassuring and kind. 

He couldn’t lie and say that wasn’t part of it; he was a liability, and he would never be over Tango being his collateral damage. 

He looked away from Tango, “Well—”

“Jimmy…” Pity was such an ugly, regretful thing. 

“No! No—yes, that’s not what I mean.” And it really wasn’t—at least, not at first, not completely. That was the undertone that would drive all his decisions and thoughts and feelings, it’s true, but this was different. This was—they’d died, Jimmy killed them, and Tango wasn’t upset about it; moreover, Tango was docile, passive. He was—

“Then I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

—resigned. 

Jimmy didn’t yet look back, because he knew it would be his turn to talk when he did. All that he had to explain lacked the rationale to be said aloud; simply put, he was mad because Tango wasn’t. 

“You’re gonna have to give me something to go off of here, Jim.”

Eyes still fixed resolutely on the wall, Jimmy repeated the only sentiment he really could express at the time. “You’re not mad…” He let the end trail off, embarrassed it was all he had to offer, knowing it was unfair to Tango, knowing a normal person would’ve been able to voice more; just another way Jimmy fell behind. 

“At?”

“At anything!” He was discovering that when he did yell, his voice got high, and he tended to cut off the ends of his words. They shortened, got sucked up into the emotion until they weren’t letters anymore but sounds. “You’re—I had to restrain you, practically, after Scar burned down the ranch! And I wasn’t there, but I heard about last life and I—”

He felt like his sentences were being recorded in takes; start and stop, start—stop, mark! He would sound so much better edited together. He needed a script, surely he’d be able to say the right words had someone else given them to him. He’d do it right then, he knew. Of course arguing, too, was something he wasn’t good at.

Jimmy gestured at Tango, “You’re not mad, at anything, you’re just standin’ here! We’re going to die and it’s like you don’t even…like you’re not upset.” The final clause came out dejected and unsure; it sounded like it belonged to a completely different conversation. If he were reading lines, he’d likely receive notes about consistency and remaining in character. It was hard to do that when he wasn’t sure who he was or was ever supposed to be.

Tango looked no less confused. “That’s how the game works, Jimmy—we’re all going to die at some point.”

“I know that, Tango, I know.” Jimmy bit his lip. “How are you just okay with it?”

Tango’s eyebrows raised in shock, the kind that spoke to his questioning the audacity of something. “Well, I’m not happy about it, bu—”

“You are, though.” 

Eyes narrow, frustration finally starting to seep in, Tango said: “No, I’m not.”

“You are!” This felt more tantrum than argument; more whining about not getting his way than making a point about having been wronged; he wasn’t really sure he had been wronged. At least, not by Tango. But he didn’t know how to rewind, he didn’t think there was a going back. 

“Damnit, Jimmy, I’m not. You think I want to lose this?” 

No, Jimmy didn’t—and that’s why he was so confused. 

“Then why aren’t you angry that’s what I don’t…” This line of questioning wasn’t going to work—he’d already discovered that again and again. He needed to figure out a different direction to head in. “Even now I’m yellin’ at you and you’re just there.”

“So now you’re mad because I’m not yelling at you?” Annoyance, frustration, irritation—they were close, but none of them were what Jimmy wanted. Or—not what he wanted but what he needed. People were mad at him far too often for him to crave it in this uncommon time when no one was, but he needed to know Tango was with him on this.

“No, Tango!” Jimmy whined.

“Well you’re not explaining anything, what am I supposed to think? That’s what it sounds like you’re saying to me!” His voice finally at an above-normal volume, Jimmy shrunk; reality wasn’t ever quite like expectation, was it? The simultaneous relief mixed with the guilt, and everything got worse; he thought maybe that’d been his goal all along, he could see it now that it had occurred. And yet, it wasn’t right; sure, Tango was mad—but he still didn’t get it. Tango kept rambling.

“You’re mad that I’m not mad, and you say it’s not about you, but then you’re also mad I’m not yelling at you—which I have yet to figure out, by the way, and—” 

Following Tango’s wild hand gestures, Jimmy’s eyes landed on their wall of chests, and he knew what he needed to do. He scooted past Tango, who turned to keep facing him, and started rooting around until he found what he was looking for. 

“Oh, and you’re ignoring me too, now, which is neat,” Tango said to his back.

He’d wrapped it in a bundle of spare wool hoping that bed made they wouldn’t need much else and Tango wouldn’t find it on accident, but he pulled it out now and turned back to face Tango gripping it in his hand.

His soulmate shut up immediately, his gaze first on Jimmy’s hand, and then up at his eyes. 

“Where did you get that.” The anger was finally there, but Jimmy didn’t immediately respond. “Why do you have that?”

The golden apple was cold in his hand, colder than he thought it should have been. It glowed slightly in the darkness of the ranch, a yellow hue that spread out in a dim radius; he had the bizarre thought that it would've made a good nightlight had it not been illegal. Jimmy had always been a bit scared of the dark (he’d been pleased, then, when the game had started and he found that his soulmate glowed just the same). He didn’t need the apple sitting on the lid of their chests to provide light—not so long as he had Tango; how ironic then that he only got both or none, that consuming—and therefore getting rid of—the apple would rid him of Tango, too. 

Jimmy didn’t want to be left alone in the dark, but that was sort of why he looked back at Tango and he said, “I think you should eat it.”

“No.” It was both a response and an expression of disbelief rolled into one; a no, this conversation is not happening, not now, and a no way in hell is that thing getting anywhere near my mouth. The stillness was back, but it was more dangerous this time; less resigned, more preparing to strike.

Jimmy repeated himself, lifting his arm and holding the apple between them as he did. “Tango, you should eat it.”

“No.” Tango shook his head. “Jimmy, I said no.” 

“Why not?”

“Why not?” A sardonic, humorless laugh made its way out of Tango, and Jimmy flinched at the sound; a broken echo of their usual selves. “This is a joke, right? There’s something here that I’m missing that makes this all super-happy-funny and we’ll laugh about it in 5 minutes.”

“I’m serious, Tango.”

His hands on his hips, Tango nodded at Jimmy as he said, “you are.” It was deceptively compliant, mockingly understanding. Jimmy was misled often enough in conversation to recognize when he was being set up, but he hadn’t quite yet learned the skill of letting things go; he walked again and again through a door labeled trap! which was how he knew he was doing it now. 

“Yes...” 

“Serious-serious, you’re seriously asking me why I don’t want to eat a golden apple.” Tango doubling down, Tango continuing to misunderstand, the fact that Jimmy couldn’t blame him for any of it, the feeling of everything at once, and the knowledge that all was out of his control; he felt his eyes well up with tears of frustration. 

“That’s what I just said...” Dejected, a clown waiting for the punchline—waiting for others to laugh at his expense; setting up joke after joke, forgetting what it was like to not provide the entertainment. 

“Well I just wanted to confirm before I informed you that that’s the stupidest question I’ve ever been asked in my entire life.” It was at this point that Jimmy let out a breath, and a tear fell with it. “Like, wow it’s almost an accomplishment how stupid that question is.”

“Tango…” He’d plead but he knew he didn’t have the right—not in this conversation of his own devising. It wouldn’t be a lie to say he didn’t know how they got here, but it wouldn’t be the truth either. 

“Really! I’d make you a ribbon to commemorate and everything if we had literally anything to our name at all.”

Catching the opportunity to jump back in, Jimmy took it. “Okay, that—that’s my point.” 

“That I haven't offered to make you a rib—” 

Jimmy cut Tango off again before he could stuff the conversation with more nonsense in defense. “That we have nothing—have had nothing since we started!” 

It was more than just luck—it was design. There came a point where chance ended, a place coincidence didn’t reach. Jimmy had dwelled long enough in the space between unlucky and doomed to know that one was cyclic, intermittent, while the other was ceaseless, fixed. Luck would come and go, but damnation? That kind of fate had been here since before all of them, and would remain long after. 

The subject was taboo, but there wasn’t a single person on this server who was unaware that Jimmy was ill-fated. They poked and prodded him about it, but any level of seriousness to the conversation was buried under veiled laughter and slightly glassy eyes; the kind of sheen to a stare that said even if they tried, they couldn’t know what it was they talked about. To everyone else, Jimmy’s “curse” was a bit they’d overindulged in; to Jimmy, it was a burden he wasn’t allowed to acknowledge. They didn’t let him. 

He’d thought maybe…Tango was being forced to share it; maybe something would click; maybe they’d let him have this for just a few weeks. 

Jimmy didn’t think he could get any more stupid. 

The sarcasm remained equipped, defenses high. “Well, I’m sorry that you think I’m not doing enough to provide for you, Jimmy, bu—”

Jimmy groaned again. “Tango can you be serious for 2 minutes! 2 minutes, please!” 

“No!” Tango was looking at him in a way he never did; a look that conveyed I cannot believe you, the underlying sentiment of dismissal that hurt more for it coming from the only person who’d ever really listened to him without reservation.“You know what, no, I cannot. If you’re going to start a ridiculous argument you’re going to get ridiculous responses—you don’t like it, too bad.”

Jimmy had been involved in a lot of ridiculous arguments before—it came with being a reactive person; he existed with defenses always already half-raised, on high alert for anything that might make him the center of negative attention. 

But this wasn’t one of them. The ranch, Tango, soulmates—they were easily the most valuable things he’d ever had—and that was why he couldn’t have them. He was going to lose it—he was already losing it; it never hurt so much when he was the only thing he had. “Gosh, dont you get it?! There’s nothing we can do—nothing! I’m gonna kill us, you understand?”

It felt good to say it out loud, to watch Tango blink in the face of such bluntness. Somehow his shock betrayed his lucidity, and proved to Jimmy what he’d feared all along: Tango felt it too. 

And that made him circle all the way back to the beginning of this stupid roundabout conversation. Maybe he didn’t know it in so many words, having less time to experience it than Jimmy did but Tango knew—their time was running out; running out in a way it didn’t for anyone else playing these games; running out in a way Jimmy had—until now—never before been allowed to acknowledge. Tango knew. 

And Tango wasn’t mad. 

“Ugh, this is—this is childish, is what it is! I don’t…I can’t believe this is happening. This is—it’s madness.” What did they bother going in circles for if they were just going to end up right where they’d started?

“You’re the one trying to force feed me a golden apple,” Tango grumbled, eyebrows raised and face mocking as he looked at the cows. A few of them were standing against the fence staring back, mooing insistently; a strange audience for a strange night. 

“Because I’m sick of it, Tango!” He was, once again, not the right recipient of this complaint, but what else was Jimmy to do? Seasons of grief built up in one desperate conversation, it was becoming more a list of grievances than a call to action. “Of all of it! Of the jokes, of losing, of—of not being in control of anything, of dying—and you—”

“Me?” Tango huffed, interrupting. “Wow, tell me how you really feel, Jim.”

Jimmy shook his head and looked down, a dismissal; his answer immediate and unhesitant. “No, that’s not what I—” 

Sick of Tango—it wasn’t possible, but he saw in his hands that he still clutched the golden apple, and he was reminded again of all the ways in which he was dangerous; of the ways in which he was the heavy rock tied around Tango’s ankle, sinking slowly despite all efforts. He closed his eyes, tight, hard enough to hurt, and swallowed the bile in his throat. “You know what, yeah. I am.”

He looked up again to look at Tango, forcing himself to look determined, sure. “Yes, I’m sick of you.”

“Jimmy…” There was a warning there, but following warnings was never Jimmy’s strong suit. 

“I am!” He didn’t think there was much of a chance Tango would believe him, but he loved Tango enough that he owed it to him to try. “I’m sick of you and how calm you’re being. We’re losing everything, again, always and you’re just standin’ around and I’m sick of it, Tango.” 

Tango refused to answer, and Jimmy knew to be any convincing at all, he had to commit. 

“I’m sick of this place,” he gestured around the ranch, rebuilt since the fire but still nowhere near as advanced as the other bases on the server; they could try and try and try but they’d never reach that level; they couldn’t be allowed to have an actual chance. “and—and how we built it from nothing and it still didn’t matter. We weren’t even doing that bad, and we’re still losing, and I’m sick of that, too!” 

Tango standing still, Tango with his hands on his hips, Tango refusing to rise to the bait in Jimmy’s words. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t believe me? Fine, I’ll just keep going then.” He shrugged, undeterred, glancing around as if he wasn’t bothered—and his eyes landed on the cows in the corner, still watching them as if simply their being awake meant they’d be getting fed. Jimmy raised the arm with the golden apple, using it to point at them. “These stupid cows mooing all the time—the chickens—might as well just kill ‘em all now, 'cause they’re not going to matter either, are they? I’m over this place, and—and everyone else treating us like a joke.”

He looked back at Tango when he’d finished. “And I know you’re sick of it too, you are.”

“I’m not.” This, finally, was familiar ground—Jimmy projecting, Tango reassuring—but for once, Jimmy wished his anxiety proven right, he wished Tango would give in and admit that this wasn’t what he wanted—that Jimmy wasn’t what he wanted; not if it meant the absence of a fair chance.  

“You are, you have to be.” And it was somewhat like begging. Jimmy’s never begged someone to be sick of him before—he was usually pleading for the opposite; how backward, how wrong, everything in him screaming what are you doing?! No one else had ever treated him like Tango did. 

He sniffed once—as he was still crying—and kept listing things; the sort of fears it would kill him if Tango validated, but he said them anyway. If there was any chance it’d get Tango to eat the apple and be safe. 

“You’re sick of having to cater to me, right? Of having to answer a million questions and reassure.” Tango began to shake his head, but Jimmy ignored it and kept going, stepping closer to his soulmate. 

“And I bet you’re sick of losing, too. You don’t want to lose, Tango, not again, right?” It was a low blow, but Tango didn’t look hurt so much as he looked sad; he accepted Jimmy’s meanness as a product of his fear, and he curbed his offense to make room for the heartbreak. 

Figures that Jimmy starts a needless argument insulting Tango endlessly and was still the most pitied in the room. He didn’t know if it was a product of his selfishness or Tango’s altruism, but the effect remained the same. 

Within arms reach at last, Tango raised a hand but stopped it midway between them, unsure if breaching this distance was yet allowed. When Jimmy didn’t do anything about it, Tango lowered his hand until it rested on the front-facing part of Jimmy’s shoulder, eyebrows furrowed, not trusting that this was over.

Jimmy mirrored Tango with his own hand, feeling the warmth of Tango’s vest and above-average temperature below—the heat that’d been keeping him warm at night when they couldn’t splurge on extra blankets or were sleeping in a half-burned-down building or just because. He only allowed himself to feel it for a second before he pushed—not hard, but enough to make Tango take a step back, more because he wasn’t expecting it than due to force. 

“Come on,” Jimmy pled. “Fight back. Get mad, hit me.”

“I’m not going to hit you, Jimmy.”

Jimmy stepped forward and pushed again, both hands; not harder but more firm. “Fight back, Tango, come on.”

“No.” Tango’s face was scrunched together in the most vehement disagreement he could give, and, out of options—out of energy—Jimmy made another noise somewhere between a whine and a groan and raised his hands again, only for Tango to catch them this time and drag Jimmy closer; dropping his hands the second he was within holding distance, one of Tagno’s arms wrapped around him and the other cradled the back of Jimmy’s head as he pulled it down towards his shoulder. Their height difference made it difficult at first, but they’d been practicing for weeks. 

Jimmy went without protest, arms at Tango’s waist, screwing his eyes shut tight enough that he could almost pretend he didn’t hear the I’ve got you’s that he didn’t deserve but Tango was nonetheless whispering to the side of his head. He wanted to protest—or, no, he wanted to want to protest; to keep trying until Tango understood, until Jimmy screwed up enough that Tango got fed up and left the way anyone else would’ve done weeks ago, possibly just upon finding out they were paired. 

“You’re okay—we’re okay,” Tango said. “I’ve got you. We’re going to be okay,” hand steady on the back of Jimmy’s head, holding fast when he tried to shake it and express his opposition. Jimmy didn’t think that ‘okay’ had a place here, not for them, not anymore. 

They were on their last life now, he could feel the effects of being red thrumming through him, though they weren’t as much to blame for the damage he’d caused as he wished; this disaster, like most, was entirely Jimmy’s own. 

Still murmuring and offering reassurance, fingers of one hand still scratching through Jimmy’s hair, Tango used his other to gently pry the golden apple from Jimmy—no longer putting up a fight—and toss it away without looking until it rolled on the wood flooring through the gate of the cow pen. Jimmy watched, head still on Tango’s shoulder, as the cows shuffled around for the lobbed apple, mooing increasingly louder until, after a crunch or two, it was assumed no longer there. 

He felt more so than heard Tango clear his throat, the motion vibrating through Jimmy like a warning. “I am mad,” Tango whispered, voice only half-formed at the low volume. “I am,” he repeated, “don’t think I’m not.” His tone the kind of calm that only gave way to true anger. “But what can we do?”

Jimmy closed his eyes. He didn’t know. 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

They’re in bed after, facing each other in the dark; Tango watching Jimmy, Jimmy watching their clasped hands between them. Tango’s thumb ran along the ridges and valleys of his knuckles, waiting for something, though he didn’t know what. In his mind, Jimmy was running through all he had to offer—the things he should say, the things he couldn’t voice—but what he kept getting stuck on was:

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” Tango said; not exasperated, not upset, just matter of fact. 

Jimmy raised his eyes to Tangos, shaking his head as much as he could while lying down, not willing to risk any more miscommunication, “I’m not sick of it here.” 

“I know, Jimmy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shhh,” Tango pulled their joined hands until Jimmy scooted forward, head under Tango’s chin, all not forgotten but, at the moment, behind them. They were on their red life, after all—there were other things to worry about. 

Jimmy knew that the fact that Tango loved him shouldn’t be one of them, but when it was more than he wanted to live, it was. There was nothing he could do about it now. They would wake up in bed tomorrow and, maybe if they were lucky, the day after that—but there wouldn't be another respawn. They were out of time, out of options—this was it. 

Tango loved him, Tango wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t need to press his ear further into Tango’s chest to hear his heartbeat—not when it was an echo of his own—but he did it anyway and tried not to number the beats like a countdown, to assign them values and limitations. 

He squeezed Tango tighter, comfort disregarded; it was an offering where words had previously failed him, though there was no guarantee that his message would translate this way either. Physicality was another language Jimmy had never gained proficiency in—pretty much any method of communication verbal or non-verbal was—but he owed it to Tango to try. The trace of his fingers along Tango’s spine said I’m sorry, his breath on Tango’s chest whispered of how he’d spare Tango’s heart from his if he could; forehead to collarbone asked if things could still be normal tomorrow, since there was now a very real possibility that tomorrow was all they had. 

He didn’t bother interpreting the response, focus lost as Jimmy tried and failed not to drift away on the subliminal messaging of his own; that this was his loss, his failure, his fault. 

If he’d tried, maybe he’d have read the brush of Tango’s fingers through his hair as I don’t mind, the press of lips to the top of his head as reaffirming the deliberate choice being made—the decision to stay, to be a part of this. 

But he didn’t. Jimmy was stuck, and not at all like he had thought. Maybe he wasn’t the fish, maybe he was the parasite; the birds were circling and Jimmy could beg all he wanted, but Tango loved him. Tango wasn’t going to swim down. 

Tango wasn’t going anywhere.

[skittzdaskittle]

Impulse can't catch a break with these three XD (see previous post)

Ren- the red king, Impulse betrayed him for the Crastle

Martyn- Ren's liege

Bdubs- betrayed him for a clock

Bdubs- Impulse had to be soulmates with him, despite the fact Impulse was definitely still salty about his betrayal "Impulse didn't have a traumatic double life like Scott, Pearl, and Cleo" he literally hasn't gotten over the first season Bdubs betrayal until very recently and he had to be with this man, all of third season X'D

Doesn't mean he felt nothing for him in double life (cus soulbound), but he gives Bdubs clocks in the beginning of each season so he doesn't get killed by him again, though that clearly didn't work the first time, and he hasn't done it yet this season

Probably because of the chaos of this season XD

Ren- killed bdubs, which then killed Impulse

Martyn- instead of being honorable, he kept his armour and weapons on and killed Scott and Impulse

Bdubs- made Ren king of Hermitcraft, of which Impulse resisted against

Ren- became king (again), of which Impulse resisted against

Martyn- stole cows and is allies with Ren

Ren- killed Impulse because Grain told him to, and is allies with Martyn

Also, I'm not actually upset with people thinking that Impulse was fine in double life, with how he and bdubs acted, you'd think they were actually married XD

But imagine, this man betrays you, even though you've been nothing but loyal to him, and vouched for you, and then killed you for the clock you gave him

And then you're soulbound to him for a whole season just a couple seasons after he betrayed you, with the wound still fresh, and you have to see him and make sure he lives

And you're sleeping next to him

And then Cleo says she hopes Impulse doesn't betray the rest of the salty 4, even though, again, Impulse betrayed their enemy and sided with his day one crew in the end

I am not ok

Impulse needs to kill people next session

Specifically Martyn, Grain, and Ren :]

(Ren was just doing what Grain said, but Impulse said himself that he doesn't forgive easy)

[thathalguy]

Yall I'm going kinda theory-insane over here.

I was watchin some EPIC: the Musical reaction/analysis content cause I found a couple guys I enjoyed and went on a little binge watch, as you do. (Mortius and CF Reacts if you wanna check em out)

They're watching the livestreamed animatic of Thunder Bringer and during the part where Odysseus hears Penelope singing to him Mortius pauses and says something about the vision of Penelope that catches my interest. He says Jorge has posted some info about this moment in his Patreon-exclusive channel on the Discord about what this Penelope illusion actually is, but because it's something only shared for Jorge's Patreon supporters he won't say it outright. In another video they're reacting to Neal Illustrator's Thunder Bringer animatic and again in this scene he mentions this Patreon-exclusive knowledge "The yellow. Is this Zeus to him? I know that's not canon." which just sends my little theory brain spiralling.

So I've been mulling it over for a few days and I've thrown some ideas at my wife, sharing my thoughts which I'm gonna share with yall now.

Upon first watching the livestream I thought the illusion of Penelope was made by Zeus to make Odysseus more torn between his choices. Y'know, toying with the mortal kind of thing. But if it's not Zeus, then who's making Odysseus see Penelope in the sky? Let's look at how she appears in the animatic.

A gap in the storm, illuminated in yellow light. She looks like the sun breaking through the clouds. And who in the canon animatics is tied to yellow besides Zeus? Apollo. Who wears a sun-shaped earring because he's the SUN god.

"But the sun god is Helios!" you might be saying, and you're right. Depending on the storyteller, Helios OR Apollo is the sun god. And when they're on the sun god's island, they never actually name WHICH sun god it is. Eurylochus says "this statue, the god of the sun, don't know where its from" implying that the statue could be either one. And the story of Helios's cows being killed by Odysseus's crew is also attributed to Apollo's cows.

"Another story is in Homer's Odyssey where Odysseus and his men, despite Zeus' warning, devour Apollo's herd."

Now, why would Apollo be showing Odysseus his wife in this moment? That's where my theorizing comes in, and full disclaimer: I'm notoriously bad at getting my theories right, so who knows if I'm even close. But this is what I've come up with as Apollo's reasoning.

Apollo would have known the crew was on his island talking about killing his cows. He's literally the sun, he sees a lot from up there, and Odysseus is tied to his statue, which could also be used as a way to listen in and keep watch over the herd. He would have heard Odysseus begging the crew not to kill the cows, to not anger the gods, and when Eurylochus kills it anyway, of course there's going to be consequences. But Apollo knows it's not Odysseus's fault, he was wounded, tied up, and at the mercy of a mutiny, he couldn't do anything to stop it beyond his words. Wouldn't you have a little sympathy for the man trying to keep your cows safe and unharmed?

And let's also touch on the fact that Apollo's argument in God Games seems pretty weak and unimportant. He's upset some sirens are dead, and he gives in pretty easily, hardly any reluctance or hesitation. As the sun god surely he'd be much angrier about his cattle being slaughtered, right? But Odysseus was the only one who was trying NOT to kill the cow. He's the first challenge, Level One, and by presenting such a shallow (ha) issue, he's allowing Athena an easy victory toward her goal. Also he calls him Ody, not Odysseus.

By showing Odysseus his wife, Apollo swayed his decision to have Zeus kill the crew, the ones who actually did wrong.

[misc-obeyme]

what are your thoughts on the cheeky lil cow boy (belphie)

Ah yes, Belphegor, a bit of a polarizing character in general, I think. People seem to either really love him or really hate him.

Generally speaking, I think he's deceptively cunning, but not in a malicious way. He's pretty chill most of the time, but he'll do stuff like manipulate his brothers to get them to do his chores for him. Except for Beel, of course. And really they are a unit. Belphie is always ready to fight for Beel and vice versa. But I also really like how they just quietly support each other. Someone will say oh Belphie fell asleep in this weird place and Beel will immediately be like I'll go get him. Or Belphie will be like we need to make sure we bring food to this thing because Beel will get hungry. Like they're just always thinking about each other and I think that's really sweet.

Belphie will also call people out if he wants to. If he has no reason to keep it to himself, he'll straight up tell you if he thinks you're doing something questionable. And his issues with Diavolo indicate to me that he has a problem with authority, like he would be more defiant if he wasn't also lazy lol.

Inevitably, though, we can't really talk about Belphie without discussing the Lesson 16 Incident. At this point, I think most people are aware of those events, but just in case, I'll put the rest of this under a read more. And also it's kinda lengthy, so be forewarned lol.

First of all, I have to say that I was honestly so confused about what was happening in Lesson 16 that I didn't fully understand that Belphie had killed MC. I had to read it multiple times and then read what other people were saying about it. So I never had an intense reaction to it.

But to be fair, it wasn't like we didn't know there was something weird going on the whole time. I knew it was the youngest brother locked up there and it seemed like it was wrong, so that made Lucifer out to be the bad guy of the situation. Then it turns out that wasn't the case at all.

Belphie is manipulative. That's just part of his character. And when he has something that he's trying to do, he's going to use that skill to get it.

Some people are still mad at Lucifer for locking Belphie up at all. Some people are obviously quite upset that Belphie killed MC.

But here's what I think.

It isn't that black and white. Aside from the confusing time travel shenanigans, this event is one of the most realistic things that has ever happened in the story.

Belphie shared Lilith's love of humans. Together they wanted to learn more about the human world. It would be easy for him to blame himself for her interest and what ultimately led to her death. But even if he didn't, he saw the way that it tore his entire family apart.

It wasn't just that his dad got mad at his sister and they had an argument or something.

It was that his dad was going to end his sister's existence and in defiance, his older brother rebelled. And there was a war. This was not some squabble. This was siblings fighting siblings.

Belphie watched his brothers and sisters fight and hurt and kill each other and it all came back to Lilith falling in love with a human.

And then he fell with his brothers, cast out of his home, losing everything he's ever known. His brothers are changing and suffering just like he is.

They don't talk about it. They clearly all keep secrets regarding it still, things that don't come out until MC comes along. Which is supposedly thousands of years after the fact (at least in OG). That means Belphie has had all that time to let that trauma fester. To let it twist inside him. To let it morph into the one thought that became most dominant: that humans are bad.

Is that a fair assessment of what happened? No, of course not. But we're dealing with a war traumatized fallen angel that clearly hasn't worked through any of these feelings in thousands of years.

And then he defies Diavolo and Lucifer panics.

Yes, Lucifer should have found a better way of handling it. But remember what happened to him when he defied authority? He is trying his best to protect Belphie. He is trying not to lose another sibling. He is also still traumatized and therefore overreacting out of fear.

And so was Belphie.

Imagine being locked up like that and a human comes along. A human is free among your brothers to do whatever terrible things humans do while you're powerless to stop them. Of course he's going to try to manipulate that human into setting him free. Of course he's then going to eliminate them because humans have been historically bad for his family.

I read this situation as Belphie being both afraid and angry that a human - the thing he's convinced himself was the main cause of his sister's death - has become so close to his brothers and has the access to his family that could cause another rift among them.

You could say that it was Belphie's idea to get MC to have all the pacts, but that isn't really true, either. By the time MC meets Belphie, they already have a pact with two of his brothers. He sees them already starting to worm their way into his family. And he knows that the only way to get out of the attic is to encourage it. He doesn't really have a choice.

Maybe everyone can now call me a Belphie apologist. But I'm always coming at this from an outside fictional standpoint. I'm like listen he's a flawed character and it's actually pretty realistic of him to react this way considering the circumstances.

However, he did kill MC. And that's why my own MC, Ciaran, has issues with Belphie for a while. It's also traumatic to have someone kill you, so it isn't like I'm saying MC should just forget about it or forgive Belphie immediately. I think it probably should have taken a lot more time for MC to trust Belphie again. Certainly that part of the story was a bit rushed.

But they're dealing with lesson format constraints and also it's a silly otome game so I guess fully formed character arcs can't be expected. Especially since we aren't dealing with routes and they have to cram everybody into the same set of lessons.

In the end, I think Belphie is an interesting and complex character. I think there's a lot of space to explore more about this particular aspect of him, but due to the format of the media and the lack of routes, his more in depth character arc just doesn't exist.

I personally have no problem with Belphie as a character, but I also understand why people don't like him. I am always of the opinion that everyone is free to love or hate or have any emotions at all about fictional characters lol. This is just my personal opinion.

[elfieafterdark]

Finally someone on the fandom that matches my feelings for Jod

Let's go through a quick list of his positive traits: he was working with trillionaires to try and find a way to save everyone from environmental disaster by running away.

When his funding got cut, he got pissy and continued working anyways.

The spirit of the Earth felt so inclined as to give him magical powers. Probably because he's just a guy right.

He murdered an entire whole bunch of cows to make a shield because the cops were coming because he was breaking all of the rules.

He wanted to save the Earth, but when those pesky trillionaires tried to run away he killed everyone. Everyone save for like one colony ship.

He stuffed the soul of the earth into a Barbie girl body so that she could be his friend/girlfriend/Cavalier.

He resurrected all the planets, inadvertently releasing Resurrection beasts that would consume many more planets in the future.

He resurrected all of his friends, but wiped their memories, and then tricked them into eating each other because he didn't want them having what he had with Alecto.

Then he fucked off, leaving his solar system to become insular and unchanging and suspicious.

Caused the deaths of even more of his friends.

He's lied to his friends for 10,000 years about literally everything. He didn't kill Alecto, they got lyctorhood wrong, there was a way to do it perfectly all along and he kept it from them.

Set his attack dog to attacking a small and insane girl because... It'll help her?

He was constantly sexist to Mercymorn because of the reasons why.

He literally reacted to finding out he had a daughter and that she was still alive and that she was in the room with him and that she was really upset by making a fucking dad joke.

He exploded the friend he was constantly sexist towards because she "pissed him off" even though Augustine was equally in on the plan.

He resurrected his daughter, but as a revenant because he's a little bitch baby who won't resurrect her properly for some reason. Also he didn't fix her holes because he's fucking the worst at everything.

Then he moped around for however many months, getting drunk and letting his Empire fall to pieces because he's sad. He's such a sad little boy guys, he's just a guy. He's just a guy who killed everyone and then brought them back and then everything went wrong. He's just a sad boi.

Also insisting that the descendants of that colony ship that escaped must be colonized and subjugated by his Empire no matter the cost. Despite the fact that his Empire is shit incarnate, a literal state of perpetual misery and suspicion and fear. Bruh you became the very thing you swore to destroy.

...

Wait a minute I think I lost track of this list at some point. 🤣🤣 Those are all negatives.

[stardayzzing]

There is a post that someone explains why Apollo wasn't mad about Troy and I think it makes sense in my oppinion with the points they gave. Here is the link:

https://www.tumblr.com/gotstabbedbyapen/760219733998157824/why-apollo-actually-didnt-have-beef-with-odysseus?source=share

So I already saw this post actually! And my rb definitely gave my defense as to why I think it's valid, and that reasoning is very simple:

Gods. Are. Petty.

But to go into more detail, even if we're saying Apollo didn't care anymore, if he's pulling an excuse as flimsy as "He killed some sirens", I feel like a half-assed excuse of being upset about Troy could have been brushed off just as easy and still been fun, and made more sense? Like, that conversation was literally "Ody killed Sirens and I like their singing" "The sirens were gonna kill him he just did it first" "Oh yeah shit ur right" As if Apollo doesn't know damn well what a Siren does 😭

He didn't personally offend Apollo, but he was also one of the important Achean warriors during the Trojan War. A Key Component for what brought about the fall of Troy. And yes, Troy was destined to fall, but also, that doesn't take away that Apollo favored Troy. Gods aren't so forgiving about you tampering/hurting things they like, weaved by fate or not. I don't think Poseidon would have been like "Oh the fates said you should horribly cripple my son? Yeah, go for it, I guess"

(And I think my account definitely defends the facts that I know the cows weren't his either.)

All in all, what I'm saying is even if he wasn't mad about it, if he was already pulling something out of his ass (bc that man did NOT care about those Sirens. And if he did, not very much LMAO.) It would have made more sense for him to pull something out of his ass about Troy.

But I'm also not saying this to complain. Overall I loved God Games, and the Wisdom Saga as a whole! I just felt like that one verse could have been so much more if it had been something about Troy!

(Not an attack on you either anon!! I just wanted to defend my still wishing Apollo had referenced Troy stuff! This is all lighthearted devate about why I still wish it was Troy he mentioned and nothing more!!)