#3rd Life FanFic

[fleetinggill]

DISCLAIMER‼️: I have DID. I was officially diagnosed earlier this year, but had been aware of it for quite some time before that. This concept is basically just me conveying my own experience/struggles through a character I’m really attached to. Creating this sort of “AU” is a way for me to express and work through my feelings about having DID. I don’t see DID treated with care in media and I know it’s cliche but “be the change you want to see” and all that.

Concept for a self-indulgent (and angsty) desertduo Life series fanfic:

Grian remembers everything. Every grain of sand in the desert, every “aha!”, every hair on the Jellie pandas’ heads.

In fact, most people remember the majority of what’s happened in each Life, though maybe not to the same extent. They try to put it all behind them each time they start anew and most of them are far better at doing that than Grian, who lets it eat away at him.

Scar doesn’t remember much. It’s all been a blur in the past… months? Years, maybe? He can feel that something terrible has happened but he just can’t remember.

… In which Scar has DID and that’s why he can’t remember the awful things that have happened in previous series, even though it eats away at Grian every second of every day.

THAT SAID… My motivation to write has been really low. I don’t expect there to be much interest, but if there is, I will try to motivate myself more.

[thecrowquet]

Etho is afriad of the truth. It stings like salt to the wound and writhes like a leech. Yet it is only honest truth, and he knows this. He has always known this. "I do not forgive you," Etho whispers. Impulse smiles gently. "I know."

So normal guys. So normal about them (lying)

[hermitwithoutapermit]

(summary) The soul bond mechanic in Double Life comes along with an interesting side effect that Grian fails to mention, leaving Etho feeling dizzy within a day of the game starting. Joel seems perfectly content to use it to his advantage and Etho can't bring himself to care. --- SmallEtho in the Double Life setting where the soul bond doesn't just make them share pain but also pleasure. Plot generally follows Session 1 and Session 2 with some rearranging of events and conversations to make the plot flow a bit better. I wrote this in the span of 6 hours without a break and ended up with almost 12k words that is almost completely smut. Seriously, there's like one scene of actual plot, so make of that what you will.

go check out my first 3rd Life/Hermitcraft fic published on my ao3. if you happen to like it you can ask for more, but i don't have anything else published for this fandom (though i have a lot for others)

[the-golden-oath]

Life Series Second-person POV

AO3 Link Here

Cyclical

Summary:

Fighting like this is hard. Your body is light, unburdened by armor or weapons—you’ve got nothing except your fists and the knowledge that this is the mountain on your head, the sickness in your throat. You let it turn into a cycle. Death to death, scar to Scar. It’s always been you. It’s always been him.

Words: 537

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series

Relationship: Grian & GoodTimesWithScar

Characters: Grian, GoodTimesWithScar

Additional Tags: 3rd Life SMP Finale, I thought to myself how can I make the final fight more dramatic and angsty?, POV Second Person, grian POV, Fist Fights, Canonical Character Death, Wordcount: 100-1.000, no beta we let grian win

don't be a dog (be a god)

Summary:

You split, crack, splinter, fall.

Words: 295

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series

Relationship: Martyn Littlewood & Rendog

Character: Martyn Littlewood | InTheLittleWood

Additional Tags: Episode Related, POV Second Person, POV Martyn Littlewood, Canonical Character Death, Blood and Gore, Wordcount: 100-500, no beta red winter approacheth

Let it BE

Summary:

He’s not wrong, though, it is just you and him. Team BE. It’s alright, you won’t let anything Grian says get to you. It was you and Etho at the start and it’ll be you and Etho at the end. Always. You have to believe that.

Words:

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series

Relationship: BdoubleO100/EthosLab

Characters: BdoubleO100, Ethoslab, Grian

Additional Tags: the he loves me bit. you know the one, Episode Related, POV Multiple, POV Second Person, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Wordcount: 100-1.000, no beta he loves me if he loved you why didnt he give you a life

[etonzolo]

30. for comfort flower husbands, maybe, please :]

[ao3 link] --Kiss For Comfort--

Scott was unsettled by just how quiet it was when he returned to their base. Normally Jimmy’s obnoxious, but (un)fortunately lovable, off-tune humming filled the air.

“Jimmy?! Where are you, Sunlight?” Scott called as he walked through their home. He could feel his heart rate pick up with every place he checked. Jimmy hadn’t told him he’d be out, and well he did have a death message who’s to say one of the reds didn’t get Jimmy anyways. He could be hurt and dying and Scott might not even know…

Just when Scott had almost given up hope he heard a distant stubble and cry behind Chick Chance. Scott all but ran and searched everything in his vision for even a hope at seeing Jimmy and his Stupid Captain America Sweater.

He rounded the corner to see Jimmy curled up inside the building. His breath was ragged and it’d been clear he was trying not to make noise as he cried. What the hell had happened?!

Scott rushed over to Jimmy’s trembling form, “Jimmy! Love breathe, I’m here now Sunlight, You're safe. You're safe alright, Love?”

Jimmy shook his head violently, his yellow eyes grew wider as he seemed to take in Scott’s words, “N- NO! I can’t- They’re here. Scott, they're here. We’re- They have spies in our base.”

“...I’ll never be safe again.” Jimmy laughed bitterly as he crumbled into Scott. He was hugging him with the grip of a man being sent to the gallows.

Scott bit back his anger at that. How dare anyone make Jimmy think he wasn’t safe.

“Who was Spying, Sunlight? I’ll kill them for you.” He muttered into Jimmy’s hair to dispel his rising anger.

Jimmy laughed, “You’re not even Red, Scott!”

“So? I’d do anything for you, Love. You know this.” He scoffed as gently moved Jimmy by the chin to get him out of this spiral. It was almost amusing just how fast Jimmy got flustered by the action.

“You- You can’t- Scott.” Jimmy complained against the affection.

“Hmm? You were saying?” Scott teased as he leaned closer. It was adorable how hard Jimmy was trying to look anywhere but at Scott’s lips.

It didn’t take long for him to give in, and Scott tried to pour every ounce of comfort and protection he could into the short kiss. He knew he suggested when he heard Jimmy sigh deeply in peace as he rested his head onto Scott’s shoulder.

“I meant what I said. I won’t let anyone harm you again.” Scott all but growled as he hugged Jimmy tighter before helping him up.

Jimmy laughed, “I know. I know, starlight. You're always so overprotective…”

“Someone has to be.” Scott teased back as they walked back home.

[mynameisrobiniamadumbass]

well, i promised fluff so. here ya go. happy pride month flowers and husbands, i love you

this is a scene from today’s chapter and i redrew parts of it way too many times i never wanna see it again (affectionate)

[bookishspirit662]

writing fanfiction for an english assignment is always the way to go

[codesandstuffs]

gift fic for @indigo-flightly-falls for the @mcytblrholidayexchange event! this was so much fun to write!

without further ado, this is Playing By Ear, a fun little dogwarts rock band au in which etho finds his people :D

[canadiankakashi]

Written for @fox-bell for the @mcythorrorgiftexchange

Was real fun to work on, enjoy!

[victoriantreecat]

Blackberry Winter

Lets imagine there are blackberry bushes along the walls of dogwarts.

They're brambles, good for defences, good at guarding the high walls. Early on, they gave some extra food for the villagers, so they didn't get tired of the carrots they farmed. In the hot months the shiny fruits gleamed and glowed against the thick foliage, picked at by birds but still abundant.

Their juice was sweet and stained the lips of all. The king and his hand gathered baskets and brought the delicious morsels as gifts to their brothers in arms, all feasting on a rich harvest, a bountiful banquet.

But the cold- a sudden snap, a dogwood winter, it came and it killed.

The night winter came, the blackberries froze.

The vines sickened in the sharp cold. Frost shrunk the leaves, stripped the branches bare, but for their thorns. The birds had once spread the delicate seeds, but now the food waned and the birds went.

The chill was deep. Bone deep, although the king never seemed to feel it- then again his skin was cool as stone. Little comfort came but for nights the by campfires and the cold comfort of the distant stars.

Ember baked loaves grew thinner and carrots rotted under piles of snow. The moon stole away her sister, snow-filled clouds smothered her. The banners stained the drifts a bloody mess.

But perhaps in all this someone had the foresight to take some berries, pat them dry, and place them by the furnace to store. Let's say the Hand tucked some away for when the chill sunk too deep, for a rainy day, for a hoped-for celebration feast.

It's in this heart stopping cold he takes them again, takes pine needles from the bitter slopes, takes honey from the precious stores below. He soaks them in the snow-melt, strains them gently out, makes tea- adding pine and wild mosses, boiling 'til it lightly simmers. He grinds the renewed berries, and purple the juice runs down- scooped up in careful fingers, mixed with honey, mixed with salt.

Now on ember baked loaves, flat and dusted with dark soot, he spreads the makeshift jam, a violet stain vivid, soaking through spongy bread. As purple as the sky is bright when it peeks through stormy clouds. As deep as the lasting look into the eyes of a lover. As rich as silken cloth with royal Sidonian dye, trimmed with gold.

And of course, a royal treat, then it must be shared with kings.

So to the King the Hand brings this secret delight. A sweet, staining surprise that, perhaps, brings a smile to the bloodied face.

A dipped finger, touched to the tongue, reveals the honey-bright and ambrosia-sweet taste. The berry's flavour entwining itself among their senses, blossoms out in renewed life. And the dark, swirling tea brings a bittersweet warmth to their bones. Like red infused with green, with blue, the warming tea diffuses through their worn out limbs, replacing, just so briefly, all their fear.

Let us imagine tender words suffused with love that dance in the curling breaths they speak into the winter air. Dwell on the gentleness of these who live, surrounded by rock and ice and sand and snow.

Let's imagine the fingertips, warmed by wooden cups, clutching for more. Eyes drooping in sweet sleep. Cups lying long empty. Reams of poetry spilling from purple-stained lips. Soft humming songs echoing off the harsh walls.

The slowly fading, lingering taste of blackberries.

And all this while still the brambles snarl around the frozen stones below the ramparts, and the cold digs it's claws closer to their hearts.

[fleetinggill]

MY BOYFRIEND POSTED ANOTHER DESERT DUO FIC WOOOOOOOO GO READ IT ‼️

This one is some Hurt/Comfort set in Hermitcraft 8 discussing memories of 3rd Life

[zabo-writes]

Bounty Hunter Grian AU (Scar is the bounty but he makes it difficult)

Grian was good at his job. As a bounty hunter, it paid to be adaptable and efficient. He could spend weeks at a time playing the role of someone’s friend only to kill them when the time was right, or deliver them to the highest bidder. And he didn’t even feel bad about it, for the most part!

Above all, Grian prided himself on his ability to remain calm and collected in any situation.

Unfortunately, his latest mark was making that extremely difficult.

“Scar, put your clothes back on! You’re going to get yourself killed”

Grian shouted with exasperation at the man who he was attempting to gently shepherd in the direction of the nearest city. Who would be crazy enough to take their armor off in enemy territory? There were bandits in this desert! Not to mention the giant worms and the countless undead…

“Ah, I’m sorry Grian! It’s just that the sun feels so nice today. These muscles just can’t be contained!”

Scar flexed from atop his alpaca, and gave Grian a wide grin and a wink that inspired very little confidence. Grian looked away pointedly.

The client for this bounty was mysterious, and quite tight-lipped about their identity. They went by the title “The Jangler,” and communicated only through written messages. Normally Grian wouldn’t take a job from such an untrustworthy source, but the Jangler had paid a handsome amount of diamonds up front.

The bounty also specified that Scar was to be kept alive.

Alive. Somehow.

That was how Grian had come to be in his current personal hell.

‘It’ll be easy,’ he had said! Just pretend to be friends with this guy, kidnap him, deliver him to a safe house, and get a bunch of diamonds out of it! Done and dusted.

That was before he had met Scar. The man had an uncanny ability to flirt with danger at every turn.

Traveling the same road Grian has navigated for years? Would’ve gone swimmingly, but Scar insisted on taking the scenic route instead! Right into the middle of a zombified village that Grian promptly had to save them from.

Making camp for the night? Scar insisted that Grian trust his “Unbeatable camp-making skills” before promptly sticking the tent poles right into a burrow belonging to a venomous snake.

Stopping at an outpost for supplies? Pretty routine job, but Scar tried to scam the owner into buying some shiny pieces of glass. The owner caught on, and the whole place pulled crossbows on him. Grian had to break Scar out of a jail cell before the town quite literally executed him, AND he had to pay three times the normal amount for their supplies. Not to mention, he now couldn’t show his face in Tumble Town for a good while.

But miraculously, after many many long days, they were finally riding into the city where Grian was to deliver his mark.

And that meant it was time for him to finally show Scar his true colors.

“Grian— I don’t understand, what’s going on? I - ah, not so tight!”

With practiced motions, Grian used a lead to bind Scar’s wrists behind his back.

“I’m sorry Scar, I’m just doing my job. Though I am impressed! I’ve never had to work so hard to keep a mark from getting themselves killed.”

Scar was quiet, for perhaps the first time since Grian had met the man. He let himself be lead around the outskirts of the city to a large old mansion. Grian knocked on the door, and stood awkwardly for a few minutes with his tied-up quarry.

Grian sighed, “Well, that was a bit anticlimactic… I had my whole cool betrayal moment and everything! Did I get the address wrong?”

He began to reach for his pockets to find the note from the Jangler, but froze when he felt a blade against his neck.

His blood went cold.

“Well done, Grian! Now just hold still for a moment, I need to get my keys…” Scar spoke softly by Grian’s ear.

Grian was not a fan of being threatened, thank you very much. He began to reach for his sword “What on earth, Scar?! When did you untie—“

His struggle was thwarted by a surprisingly strong grip that wrestled his arms behind his back. With only one hand, apparently, because the other one reached around his shoulder to unlock the door.

In a much shorter amount of time than Grian cared to admit, he found himself inside the mansion and sitting across from Scar at an ornately carved wooden table.

And he was smiling that stupid grin of his again. Grian met his gaze with a glare.

“So I take it you are the Jangler?”

“The one and only! But please, Grian, we’re friends now aren’t we? You can still call me Scar.”

“Scar. Why on earth did you hire a bounty hunter to kidnap yourself?” Grian grumbled with his head in his hands.

“Well it was certainly safe, wasn’t it? I mean, you did such a good job saving me from all those threats, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you!”

“I’m not a bodyguard!”

“But it certainly paid well didn’t it? Oh, speaking of which, now that you’ve passed your interview: I have a job offer that you simply can’t refuse,” Scar remarked smugly.

“Interview?! That whole thing was—“

Scar slid a chest of diamonds across the table.

“Oh come on, Grian, for old times sake? For your friend Scar?”

Grian stared silently at the table for a moment, before meeting Scar’s eyes with a fierce gaze.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the job?”

[roseddraws]

Everything stays (but it still changes)

Chapter one

There is a man watching Martyn.

He caught sight of the man out of the corner of his eye a few minutes ago, a glimpse of red fabric at the edge of the firelight. He stays in the shadow of the trees on the edge of the clearing, completely hidden if you don’t know where to look. He doesn’t know he’s been spotted— or at least, Martyn hopes so.

He hasn’t attacked him so far, so Martyn can only assume the man is also struggling to decide what to do with him (i.e. whether it would be worth it to kill him). He slowly moves his hand to his hatchet, keeping his head facing forwards as he nibbles on his hard-earned fish (he’s not sure what kind it is. A sardine? Anchovy?). The smart thing to do would be to move first, while he still has the upper hand. The smart thing to do would be to attack the man before he attacks first.

“You gonna say hello or just watch me from the shadows like a creep?” Martyn turns his head to look at the figure, who jolts and steps back. He’s never claimed to be a smart man, okay?

The man hesitates, then steps out into the light, revealing himself. He’s wearing a torn red flannel that’s half-buttoned and rolled up to his elbows, as well as ripped jeans held up by braces, but the most unusual part of his outfit (despite how completely impractical it already is) are the dark sunglasses over his eyes, in the middle of the night. His dark brown hair is long and similarly unkempt, all tangled up with leaves and twigs, and it’s not even tied up: he’s just letting it fall into his face. His stubbly beard and the plastic bag over his shoulder only complete the homeless look— though Martyn’s in no place to judge; it’s the apocalypse, not a fashion show.

“Uh… hi,” the man says awkwardly. “Mind if I—?”

“Steal my stuff? I think I would mind, actually,” Martyn cuts him off, stuffing the rest of the fish into his mouth and grabbing the other one that had been cooking over the fire, other hand still gripping his hatchet. “Get your own fish.”

The other man holds his hands up placatingly. “I won’t! I’m not gonna rob ya, dude, I was just wondering if I could sit by your fire a bit? I’ve brought my own, uh… meat.” He pats the bag at his side.

“That’s what he said,” Martyn mutters as the unkempt man says the same thing out loud. There’s a beat of silence as the two stare at each other with wide eyes, before Martyn cracks and erupts into giggles.

The man grins. “I’m gonna take that as a yes,” he says, moving to sit across from Martyn, who doesn’t try to stop him. “The name’s Ren, by the way.”

“Martyn,” Martyn replies, eyeing the bag as Ren reaches in and pulls out a huge hunk of something wet and red. “What, uh… what kind of meat you got there?”

Ren tears off a chunk and stabs a stick into it, resting his arm on his leg as he holds it over the fire, avoiding eye contact. “Just… some animal I hunted. Not patient enough for fishing, y’know?”

Martyn opens his mouth to question further, then snaps it shut again. He’s seen the “animals” that wander the city nowadays, and while they’re not the kind of thing he could ever see himself eating (just the thought of it makes him nauseous)… well, it’s the apocalypse isn’t it? You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do to survive. And if he doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t push.

“Fair enough,” he says in answer. The conversation goes silent as the two each get on with their own meals, Martyn trying to stretch out his last little finger-sized fish for as long as possible, which is not very long. He forces himself to look away from the mystery meat, which is beginning to smell delicious.

“So, how long have you been travelling alone?” Ren asks finally.

“A bit of a personal question,” Martyn says. “I dunno, I guess. I’ve been part of a few groups here and there, but they’ve never really stuck. They all kind of fell apart, or… died. Or I just got bored of them and left. I’ve been on my own for a month or two by now.”

Ren looks a mixture of distressed and amused. “Should I be worried that at least one of your groups has died before?”

“Should I be worried about how vague you’re being about your meat?”

Ren opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, changes his mind and closes it, then settles on, “Touché.”

He pulls his stick back from the fire, though Martyn is sure the steak isn’t cooked through yet, and blows on it for a few seconds, before getting impatient and ripping it off with his hands. It must be burning hot, but Ren ignores that and tears into it like a starving lion, blood vessels popping and spewing their contents all over him. The steak is gone in seconds.

Martyn just gapes at this disgusting spectacle, speechless. “Um.”

Ren’s head snaps up from where he was licking the blood off his fingers, reminding Martyn of a wolf interrupted mid-meal. Then his face turns pink and he’s a human again, hurriedly wiping bloody hands on his shirt. “Um!”

Martyn forces himself to look away, concentrating on picking as much meat as he can from the bones of the fish. “Hey man, I don’t judge. I get being a little enthusiastic if you haven’t eaten in a while, which I assume is the case since you apparently can’t make your own fire.”

Ren splutters, but the tension eases from his body when he sees that Martyn isn’t disgusted. “You don’t know that! Maybe I just wanted company.”

“Mhm,” Martyn hums, not convinced. “What happened to your group, then?”

Ren rips off another fistful of meat and sticks it over the fire before answering. “Never had one. I’m a bit of a… lone wolf.” He smirks as if at some private joke.

“You’re telling me you survived alone this long without knowing how to build a fire?!”

“Honestly, raw meat isn’t as bad as you’d think.”

Martyn grimaces. “I’ll take your word for it.” He sets the fish bones on the ground, having picked them clean. Ren follows the movement with his eyes.

“Do you, uh, want a bite?” He asks. “I’ve got plenty to spare.”

To his surprise, Martyn actually considers it. It’s been a while since he’s had a proper meal, and, though he’s loathe to admit it, that meat looks good. But he can’t; he’s not that desperate yet.

“No thanks, I’m good. Not hungry.” He manages, then after another awkward pause, turns and pulls a blanket out of his bag. “‘Night, Ren.”

“Wait, you’re just gonna… turn around and go to sleep? In the presence of a stranger?” Ren asks.

Martyn turns back to face him, confused. He sees that the other man’s expression is baffled, and slightly hopeful. “I mean, yeah? I kind of assumed you’d be staying for a bit, unless you really did just come here to cook food.”

His face lights up like a puppy that’s been handed a bone. “Sure! Alright! I don’t mind sticking around for a bit!”

Somewhat bemused, Martyn can’t help but smirk. “How on Earth did you survive this long on your own?”

Ren smiles back. “I have no idea, dude.”

***

Ren would call himself an extrovert.

If you’d asked him a year ago, he would’ve said that was a good thing: he had plenty of friends, and his job was all the more enjoyable when he got to chat with customers. It was fun! His life was good.

Except, these days, it’s more of a curse than a blessing. He wants more than anything to find a group of people and stay with them, to protect them as they protect him, to have a shoulder to lean on and a friend to turn to as the world collapses around them.

But he can’t.

The apocalypse was slow to start. He can’t pinpoint the exact day it began, but if he had to, he’s sure he’d name a much earlier date than most people. Most people would mark the beginning of the apocalypse as the day tree roots started cracking through pavement in the middle of the city, or the day the storms started and didn’t stop, or the day they first saw those wretched not-animals on the news.

Ren marks it as the day he grew a tail.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the first sign: his senses were already stronger than they should’ve been, he was significantly hairier than usual, and he swore his previously brown eyes were starting to look almost yellow. But it was the first thing he couldn’t write off as his imagination; it was as if the universe had gotten sick of him ignoring everything it threw at him and decided to drop all tact and just punch him in the face.

By the time society had officially collapsed, Ren was permanently wearing his hair down to hide his furry ears, and wearing sunglasses to hide his now very clearly yellow eyes, because at this point everyone had heard enough about humans becoming animals to be absolutely terrified if they knew what he was. But even then, it was easy enough to hide his… affliction.

Until it wasn’t.

Until the full moon happened, and he woke up in the ruins of an unfamiliar building, hands and teeth stained with blood. The most disturbing part was that he wasn’t hungry anymore, for the first time since rationing had started; it was like blacking out drunk and waking up with more money than you’d started with.

Since then, he’s gotten better at remembering what he does when in wolf form, and better at switching between forms when he needs to— key word is better, not perfect. There are still relapses, when he gets frightened or angry, and of course full moons, when his control is at its weakest.

Which is why he can’t stay with any group: they’d find out, and they’d be terrified and run away, or just kill him to his face. It’s not worth it, he tells himself time and time again.

And it was easy enough to stay mostly away from people for the first few months, only seeing them in passing, maybe staying for a day and disappearing when they slept. But after a while, people became more and more scarce. Now Ren can go whole weeks without seeing anyone, and when he does they’re more hostile than before.

Last night was a full moon, and he’d spent the whole night and most of the following day as a wolf, not having any reason to bother turning back. The sun set, and he reluctantly switched back to slice up his most recent kill to save for later, when he caught a scent on the wind. He hesitated only a moment, before curiosity got the better of him and he followed his nose down what used to be a street, to what was now a dense wood, to a clearing lit by firelight.

The air was filled with the smell of cooking food, and it made Ren’s mouth water. He hadn’t cooked food since before he’d left home. He hadn’t known how much he’d missed it until he found himself glued to the edge of that clearing, staring hungrily at that fire and the man on the other side of it.

He wore a faded lime green hoodie, rolled up jeans and black trainers, and his chin-length blonde hair was held back by a black bandana. Besides him was sat a white rucksack, open but turned away to hide its contents.

And Ren had meant to leave, he swears, but then Martyn spotted him and spoke to him, and… he wasn’t afraid. He was wary, sure, but he let Ren sit across from him, and he laughed along with his stupid jokes, and he didn’t press him about where he’d gotten his meat (and how human they’d been), and Ren wouldn’t call himself clingy, but… in all honesty, he’d almost teared up when Martyn asked him to stay.

He’s a little attention starved, okay? It’s lonely in the apocalypse.

And not to mention dangerous! It would be irresponsible of him to leave Martyn to wander the city on his own. Strength in numbers, and all that. He’s just keeping him safe, Ren thinks, watching Martyn’s sleeping form as he tears into his second steak.

He firmly refuses to think about the future as he curls up by the fire, clinging to this moment like a lifeline: the smell of good food, and the warmth of the fire and the company follow him into sleep.

[jalo-parker]

What if Martyn did get to betray Ren in 3rd life (small bit of writing below the cut. Sorry if anythings ooc I just wanted to make my friend upset 😁) (hi moss) (also there is blood in the drawing, its in the tags but im still making sure)

"He is weak from the fight. His guard is down for they have won. One hit and it's over. One kick to the back of the knees and he's on the ground, axe blade pressed against his throat.

"Hand.. Martyn.. what are you doing."

His voice waivers as he looks up at him, there's something present there that he hasn't heard before.

Fear.

The air around them shifts. The tension rising. It feels as if he is being watched.

"I'm sorry my liege.. but I have to do this."

There is no wind. The air is still, almost as if it too is waiting in anticipation for what is to come. The feeling of being watched grows stronger.

One hit and it's over."

Yippee angst! I hope everyone can see the tiny details.. I spent a while on those.. this ended up being close to like 80 layers btw.. my computer hates me rn (the final was only like 20 after i merged everything but i did use a whole lot of layers) also yes the blood splatters are ones i found on google that i edited a bit to fit this. I was Not sitting there for 3 hours drawing a singular blood splatter... not after spending like 5 on the line art alone (probably a bit of an exaggeration but I did spend a while on it..)

[im-bad-at-writing-sorry]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: EthosLab/Joel | SmallishBeans Characters: EthosLab (Video Blogging RPF), Joel | SmallishBeans Additional Tags: Character Study, Relationship Study, I think?, Metaphors, Extended Metaphors, Pining, they/them for etho and he/it for joel, No Dialogue, Fluff, very murdery fluff but fluff none the less, the 'author chose not to use archive warnings' is because of some gore but not a lot? Summary:

Etho is full of cotton, Joel has a firework-laugh, and they are in love. This, coincidentally, involves a lot of fire!

Or;

How they are different, how they are the same, and how one has irreversibly changed the other

[amm-amethyst]

You Said You'd Never Leave

Characters - Scott Smajor, Jimmy Solidarity

Relationships - Scott Smajor/Jimmy Solidarity

Description -

After the battle, when night and sand had fallen over abandoned weapons, Scott left his Hobbit Hole in search of the one he loves. Or loved.

He had to collect Jimmy's body.

Whumptober day 10 Prompt: "You said you'd never leave"

Link - https://archiveofourown.org/works/50734918