goodstimes

[goodstimes]

this isn’t me trying to hate at all, however.

the princess leia outfit that scar was drawn in is highly sexualized and it’s normally done to diminish them as subhuman.

it’s a harem-style clothing that heightens violence against swana women. and drawing a white man with orientalist clothing is just a bit wild to me. of course i’m giving people the benefit of the doubt, but yea.

here’s a resource: https://themaydan.com/2020/08/enchantment-orientalism-and-modern-mysticism/

again, no hate at all !! i’ve just seen a whole lot of gtws art with this and i feel like people are either not aware or just not thinking about it!

[goodstimes]

“We need to get weirder and cringier about our interests” Y’all can’t handle mcyt fans

[goodstimes]

“ A means to an end. ”

— a secret life ! scar writing; not proofread. WARNING : this writing contains heavy talk of blood, gore (?) death — and slight mention of suicidal ideation. Discretion is advised. ♥︎

Scar has seen many sunsets in the time he’s been stuck here, and as much as he once loved them, he hoped he didn't see them anymore. They were only a reminder of another day stuck here. Alone, and he couldn't handle that.

He was tired, in pain, and he was lonely. There was a dread that followed him everywhere now. He was constantly reminded that he was the only one here, in a land that once used to be so full of life. Lively it was no more, and it killed him.

He ached, day after day, he slams his fist against the buttons presented by the secret keeper, hoping that something shifts, that by some miracle, he was let out of here. He longed to see the faces of those he held close to him, he longed for the comforting touch of others, he longed for human interaction. He couldn't be without it.

But that wish would forever go unanswered, wouldn't it?

The vex wished for this to be over, for another death game to start so he could see familiar faces again, yet none of those ever came true. So instead, he wished for death. He was tempted to reach for his sword, and kill himself, there was no other way. There couldn't have been. He was stuck there. If he stayed alive, he'd never make it out, he knew that deep down.

It drove him insane — every little gust of wind that blew the leaves on trees in the distance, only reminded him more of how desolate it really was here. There was no life. He couldn't even recall the last time he heard a bird chirping in the distance — he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a wolf out in the wild, either. He hasn't seen a single sign of life here since the day he won. How long has it even been, anyways? Has it been mere days? Weeks? Months? Scar didn't even know. All he knew was that he was the only remaining living being here. It felt like the end of the world.

He remains sat on the ground, wounds still present, life still intact, as his red hued irises glance into the distance. He notices that the hollow cavities in the ground were still there; he remembers the cause clear as day … he recalls frantically sprinting and dodging The Wither’s projectiles, and looking back? The man genuinely thought he was going to die for good that day, and his whole being really wished he had.

But no, that isn't how things played out, that wasn't the card he had been given — and it hurt. Why couldn't he have died? Why was it him? Was he isolated for this very reason? He had so many questions; ones that would never earn an answer. He wondered where everyone was now. More importantly, he wondered ... if they were all happy without him.

The scarred man pulled his knees to his chest, and buried his face in his arms, all to avoid seeing the sun sluggishly descend beneath the horizon, but it was all in vain. He peeks his head up, and stares, wide-eyed and hopeful; maybe this is the last day I'll be here, he thought. Maybe I'll get to go home now.

But no, the universe was cruel, and the moon mocked the desperate pleas that fell out of his mouth, it taunted him, and so did the sun.

Scar sobbed for what felt like hours, until the moon had finished having its laugh, and here the sun was, hanging above with pride, again.

He cried until his head hurt,

He weeped until his whole being trembled with each sniffle.

He sobbed until he finally made up his mind.

With shaky legs, he stood from his place on the grass, and the wind caught his hair and his flower-lined cloak, almost as if it were to say,

No … stay with me.

But he didn't listen this time, he took heavy steps toward the damned statue that started this endless suffering; and he unsheathed his diamond blade …

What happened next was morbid. A lonely man, driven to his wits end, with a sword forcefully shoved through his abdomen, thick and heavy drops of blood fell onto the ground below him, he tried to keep his oncoming death quiet, to the best of his ability, but he couldn't. He was heaving, pained cries filled the atmosphere, His hands still very much gripping the hilt of the weapon, so much so that his scarred knuckles were pale.

Scar then collapsed to his knees, hands trembling profusely as he pulls the blade out of his stomach. What follows is blood pouring out of his new wound. This was it, wasn't it? He hoped this was the end to the torture he'd endured … he hoped, and hoped, and hoped.

Please be over.

The strength leaves his body rather swiftly, and all he can do is lay on the ground, helplessly, the blood collects in the cracks of the stone beneath him, and it forms a pool that engulfs his being, it stains his skin and attire.

He stays there until the sun sets yet again, for what felt like the hundredth time; The sun feels warm. It's understanding this time, it reminds him of sand and flowers in the desert, and that alone made Scar use what little strength he had left to smile.

And that's when he drifts off. He's now held oh, so gently in the hands of death, and he couldn't be happier.

He has no regrets, if it means not being lonely anymore.

[goodstimes]

“ bury me, and take the flowers that emerge from my grave. ”

Hello :) I've been a little hesitant to make an appearance here on tumblr ... I've wanted to write little snippets and share them here for other trafficsmp 🚦 fans to enjoy !! It may seem a tad bit silly — but I go by scar or vex (he—him) pronouns. I can't guarantee i'll get to posting things straight away ... because i need time to obviously write something to offer to you guys ... ◜ᴗ◝ ☆ my personal tag for writing will be #vexdrabbles !!