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silverskye13 · 2 months

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Etho looks down quietly at his basket, making sure everything he needs is inside. He knows it is best to only make one trip down to the water. The water is treacherous. He is strong enough to withstand it, but of course, everyone who ever drowned thinks they're strong enough until their lungs are bursting. So. He double checks. He makes sure.

He has a week's worth of laundry. Some dishes he needs sand from the river to scour. A bucket, so he won't have to make this trip for another few days. There are a few pieces of leather armor in need of a quick rinse before they're polished. Also, he's thirsty. He tries not to drink his rain water. He needs it to last.

Finally, Etho belts on his sword, hefts the basket over one shoulder, and the empty bucket with his free hand. He looks to the short path that leads down to the dock. The water is blue as the diamond sky above, edged in gold from the slowly gathering sunset. Birds are singing. Breeze whispers through the willow branches and cattails. Across the river, a small herd of deer is moving through the rushes. One breaks apart from the others to drink. Etho sighs out a long breath, steels himself, and walks down the trail.

The water is cursed. Very few people still come to the river for chores. Most only dare to run down for a few buckets of water when the well is running dry.

_____

When Tango saw him gathering his things earlier, he'd shaken his head and made a warding gesture with his hand. Protection. For himself. For Etho. Or just to ward away the idea of evil.

"Scream, I guess," Tango had told him. "I doubt we'll make it in time, but yanno, we'll know what happened."

Etho had only offered a tense smile behind his mask. Everyone would know what happened, scream or not.

"I'll be fine," Etho said. "I've been fine before."

He said it a lot more confidently than he felt, and Tango wasn't reassured. Tango had a good nose for things like that. He sniffed the air, and made the chagrined expression of someone who could smell a coming thunderstorm.

"Yeah. Sure." Tango sniffed again, and then tapped the side of his nose with a knowing finger. "On second thought, maybe save your breath."

_____

Etho walks out onto the dock, his footsteps silent as he can make them. He took his boots off by the dock's edge. They're heavy when they're wet. He sets the basket down gently on the aged wood. He fills the bucket first. In the neat and tidy plan of his habits, he thinks the bucket is the one he least wants to be left last with. It's heavy and cumbersome, and requires leaning over the water's edge. So he fills it, trying to disturb the water as little as possible, and pads back to his boots to set it down gently beside them. Then he's back to his basket, and getting to the louder work, what he know will attract attention.

He grabs a shirt and dunks it into the water, wringing it out a few times before scrubbing it against the dock's edge. Someone nailed a washboard here, probably to make it easier for everyone else who needed to scrub up -- one less cumbersome thing to drag to the riverside. Beside it, Etho can see long scratches in the wood, vanishing off the side. He has large hands, so they don't line up to him, but the unmistakable look of nails scratching, clinging, is recognizable even still. He wonders idly who made them. Probably someone playing, before the water was cursed. Or an animal that swam across the bank and needed help scurrying out.

He is tempted to think it's something more sinister, but he knows better.

The water turns from diamond blue to sunflower yellow, then to blazing orange with rusted and bleeding edges. The herd of deer on the other side of the water wanders off, sated. A fox calls in the wood somewhere, an uncanny, very human scream. The bird calls twitter into silence, replaced by chirping frogsong. Etho wrings out the last of his clothes and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. He checks how far the sun has dipped in the sky, and decides he has an our yet before dark settles in.

With his clothes washed, he sets them back in the basket, neatly folded. They'll wrinkle probably, but when he puts them out on the line, the wind will straighten them out. His knees are sore from kneeling, his back from leaning. His armor will be easier to clean if he can settle in, brace it on his crossed legs.

Etho looks around the water, at the deceptive stillness. It's a slow, lazy river, hardly pushing the water fast enough to put ripples on it. There is one place near the opposite bank where a long shadow stretches from a stone, broken by the reflection of red sunset. It's the kind of image he would expect to see on a lake on a windless day. He's heard before that quiet rivers make for deadly waters, that there is a current in holes in the riverbed that will devour someone.

But Etho isn't in the water. He's on the dock, and the dock is safe. Nothing will drag him off it. Nothing in the water is strong enough. It doesn't have to be. There is some comfort in that, in knowing he can't be devoured against his will. It is why he still comes to the river. It is why he dares. Etho sits back and crosses his legs, bracing his leathers against his knees. He scoops a palm full of water onto them and scrubs, trying to get blood out of the small cracks where it will settle and rot. His chainmail is back at the fort up the hill, where its heaviness can't encumber him. It cleans itself reasonably well, all the links clattering together, just so long as he doesn't roll in any mud.

There is shuffling on the dock behind him, the creaking of old wood. Etho tilts his head, breathes in deeply through his nose. His pulse doesn't quicken. After a momentary pause, he resumes his work.

"Hey BDubs," he says conversationally. "Trying to sneak up on me?"

"Wh-- no. Of course not." There is mischief in BDub's answer, a grin in his voice. "The great Etho? Never. You probably heard me coming from a mile away."

"Maybe not a mile," Etho chuckles humbly. "You going to join me?"

"Well, I don't know," BDubs laughs, leaning over Etho's shoulder. "Is it safe?"

"I don't know why it wouldn't be."

"Water's cursed," BDubs reminds him. "There could be boogiemen about."

"You trying to tell me something BDubs?" Etho asks slyly, peering up at his friend.

"What? No of course not," BDubs laughs. He sits beside Etho, plunging his bare feet into the water beside the dock. "Even if I was, you know me Etho. You? Kill you? You'd kill me first."

"I don't know about that," Etho hums, splashing another palm full of water on a buckle clasp and scrubbing at a rusted stain with his thumb. "You made pretty efficient work of Grian."

"Grian had it coming," BDubs shrugs. "Got too caught up listening to the music."

Etho chuckles. "The music was very good."

BDubs kicks his feet in the water, humming the tune momentarily under his breath. It's a haunting sound, not really meant to be sung. Not by anything human. Etho shudders in spite of himself.

"Man, don't do that."

"Sorry! Haha! Sorry. Couldn't help it," BDubs grins a gap-tooth smile in Etho's direction, his eyes bright and gilded by the setting sun. "It's probably one of the coolest kills I've ever gotten."

"I'll make sure Tango knows you said that."

"Oh, Tango's fine." Bdubs waves a hand dismissively. "He's just upset 'cause I scared him."

"You did more than just scare him."

Dark room. Dark water. Tango screaming and running, scrabbling at the walls with his nails. If they ever went back to that little cave, Etho wondered if there would be marks on the walls like the docks, played, desperate fingers, digging.

"Well he's alive, isn't he?"

"I guess he is."

"Then he should get over it!"

Etho shakes his head, laughing. BDubs' voice is over-loud on the quiet lake, but its a good sound. Full of intensity and joy, and revelry. It made the silence between his words stark and empty, and Etho was always loathe to fill it.

Bdubs suddenly wraps an arm around Etho's shoulders, pulling him into a conspiratorial embrace. "Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you, by the way."

Etho suddenly has goosebumps on his neck, his spine, his arms. BDubs' arm is cold against his shoulders. He smells of bracken and standing water, and his eyes are bright as sunset. Etho takes a long, slow breath in and holds it for a moment.

"Uh... Yeah, BDubs?"

"I've got a plan, you know, for the others," Bdubs continues, his voice dropping to something near a whisper. There is something on the edge of his tone like the ringing of bells. Excitement. Thrill. Hunger. "But I'll need some help. I mean, I'm good at redstone, you know 'ol BDubs knows his stuff. But I need an expert. Someone good at traps."

"You know you've always got me Bdubs," Etho laughs, and it is hard to keep the nervousness from his voice. He's not sure he succeeds. "I'm happy to help. Just uh--" He shrugs his shoulders, and BDubs' arm falls away. "You know. Keep your distance."

"You're not scared of me, are you Etho?" Bdubs laughs, and it's loud and boisterous, and perfect. It echoes off the water like glass. Bells and ringing. He gives Etho a prideful, knowing look. "No, you're not scared of little 'ol BDubs. I know what you're scared of."

BDubs suddenly turns and slips into the water. Not all the way. His hands are still clinging to the wood, his elbows resting on the dock like it was a pool side. But the splash hits Etho's side and makes him shudder so hard, he drops the armor he'd been polishing. In a flash he's on his feet, backing away two, three steps. His movements feel too slow and heavy, and there's an instant of panic in him.

"Woah man!" Etho snaps, startled. He reaches for something, anything-- "I said keep your--!"

But BDubs is laughing, kicking his feet, stirring up the mud at the bottom of the river. "Oh come on Etho. It's water."

Etho takes three long breaths, filling his lungs to bursting before pushing the air out again heavy through his nose.

"You're fine you big baby," BDubs grins, resting his head on his crossed arms. His legs stop kicking, stop stirring up the mud, and Etho can see the water is shallow enough that he's standing on the bottom. He'd thought-- he'd thought-- "You'd think I tried to drown you, jeez."

He thought it was deeper.

Etho held his breath for a moment, counted slowly. He wanted to reach his hand to his neck, to check his pulse. To see how fast his heart was beating. He moved his hand to, and at a mocking glance from his friend, decides instead to stoop to pick up his dropped armor. He walks carefully to his basket and places it inside.

"Why'd you come down here, anyway?" BDubs asks. "If you're so scared, I mean."

"You know me, BDubs. I always come back," Etho answers, almost a reflex. A rehearsed answer. "Who else would I go to?"

"Tango and Skizz?"

"They won't keep me safe like you will." Etho points out. He shudders again, the cold from BDub's touch had seeped into him more than he thought it had. He's acclimating though, like jumping into a pool. It's a cold that seeps out of him, warms as it settles. "It's me and you to the end, right buddy?"

"Of course Etho. I'd never betray you."

Etho looks through his things one last time, then frowns. He turns the basket with his foot. He glances at BDubs, who still watches him from the water's edge. Then he takes a chance and crouches down beside his basket, rifling through with both hands.

"Lose something?" BDubs asks, standing on his tiptoes to get a better look.

Etho looks around, checking first the dock, and then the water beyond. In the deeper water over the side, he sees the flash of a buckle in the dying rays of the sun.

"Oh, huh," BDubs hums disinterestedly. "Guess you'll have to get that."

"BDubs," Etho scowls.

"Fine! Fine. I get it. You don't wanna get wet." BDubs puts up his hands, as though surrendering. "The water really isn't all that bad." He offers Etho a quick little salute. "Be right back."

He takes an exaggerated breath and splashes beneath the dock, stirring up mud and river plants. He breaks the water's surface shortly after, holding up the fallen armor piece triumphantly. "Ta-da! Hold your applause. I know I'm great."

Etho, in spite of himself, chuckles. He shivers again -- the evening is getting cold -- and reaches a hand out. BDubs places the buckle in his hand, then reaches his other hand up to clasp Etho's gently. It's awkward and off-balance, Etho leaning precariously over the side of the dock, and BDubs on his tip-toes, holding him in place. It isn't a hard grasp. At any moment, Etho can take his hand away. He has always been stronger than BDubs.

"Hey, Etho, I really have missed you, man," BDubs says, smiling fondly, his voice soft. It isn't a whisper. It simply isn't loud and brash like he normally is. Heartfelt. The kind of tone that beckons, that wants to be listened to. "I mean-- I've missed us doing things together. It reminds me of the good 'ol days, you know? NHO and Mindcrack. We make a good team."

"We do," Etho agrees. He takes a long, slow breath. He shivers.

He frowns.

Etho pulls his hand out of BDubs, and BDubs offers no resistance. Etho looks down at his hand, at the wrinkled, waterlogged skin. He rubs his thumb across his forefingers, feeling the odd texture, grounding himself on it. Etho takes a deep breath in, lets it out again slowly.

"How long have I been in the water, BDubs?" Etho whispers.

Etho is still holding the belt buckle in one hand, still looking down at the wrinkled fingers of his other. BDubs is still in front of him, only his head and shoulders above the water. Etho looks back over his shoulder. The dock is startlingly far away, the basket sitting on the very edge. Beyond it, his boots and water bucket are sitting in the grass beside rushes and willow branches.

"Does it matter?" BDubs asks, smiling gently.

Etho takes a long, deep breath through his nose.

"Oh, don't be scared," BDubs says, moving silently closer. He reaches out his hands and grasps Etho's arms, a gentle touch, reassuring. A friend trying to assuage fear. His eyes are blazing red and orange with the setting sun, but the sky is black and salted with stars. "I didn't drag you down here, Etho. You came to me, remember?"

"BDubs--"

"You know I'd never betray you," BDubs continues, taking a slow step backwards. He pulls Etho with him, and Etho, by habit and familiarity, takes a step forward. The allure of BDubs' voice tilts his vision. He's on the dock, holding the buckle that fell in the water, and BDubs is clasping his hands, and the sun is setting. The water is up to his chest, and the world is dark star-filled, and BDubs is taking another step backwards, and Etho is following. "I could have betrayed you day one, and I didn't. I'm just asking for your help, Etho. You and me together, right?"

"BDubs--"

"It's the deep water, isn't it?" BDubs croons, like he's speaking to a child. "The deep water scares you? It's okay. You're fine."

Etho is fine. His breathing is slow, his heartbeat even. He wants to be scared. He should be scared. But BDubs is his friend.

BDubs reaches up to Etho's neck, not to strangle or to threaten, but to gently cup his hands around him. He pulls gently on Etho, not to drag Etho down, but to raise himself up, so they're nearly eye to eye. Etho feels water around his shoulders, and shivers.

"It's okay," BDubs says. "I would never hurt you, I promise. We don't have to go any deeper." His voice even and calm, inexorable. Etho's pulse doesn't quicken when he says, "You know how many people drown in shallow water? It's easy. I'll be with you the whole time."

The water is around Etho's neck, and BDubs is above him just slightly. One hand raises slowly to the back of Etho's head, fingers gently tangling in his hair. It is the caress of someone who cares for him deeply, someone who wants him to stay. The feeling is wholly dissonant from the words being spoken. Water? Drowning? How could someone who loves him so much drown him?

"You want to stay with me, right?" BDubs asks. "You and me together, we'd be unstoppable, Etho. The best duo the Life Series has ever seen."

BDub's hand on Etho's neck moves just slightly, the thumb pulling around to rest on his adam's apple. The hand in his hair clenches just a little. A warning. "You're not thinking about betraying me, are you?"

Etho shivers again. He wants to be afraid.

"You know, Grian said some things before he drowned," BDubs's hand on his neck tightened just a little. Etho could feel his pulse against BDub's thumb, finally, finally beginning to quicken. "He said you were a survivor. He said you'd leave me -- heh -- high and dry. You wouldn't do that, would you, Etho?"

Etho's pulse quickened more. There was a cold numbness in his limbs that he hadn't even noticed gathering, and his sluggishly awakening panic pushed it from him.

"BDubs," Etho said, his voice small and hoarse in his throat, "let me go."

"Etho..." BDubs said warningly.

"Let me go!" Etho shouted, planting his hands on BDub's chest and shoving backwards away. What he felt, in that brief second, was neither skin nor flesh, nor the softness of fabric. He felt tangled river weeds, and fish scales, slimy and cold against his skin. The cursed thing that looked like BDubs but wasn't, released Etho spitefully. His claws tore from Etho's neck, scraped along the back of his head to come free with pale strands of his hair. Suddenly there were arms around him, and Etho screamed and thrashed as he was dragged.

"I've got you dude! I've got you!"

It was Skizz, his voice a thunderous bellow in Etho's ear, his arms feverishly hot against him where they clamped like vices around his waist. Skizz dragged Etho from the water like he weighed nothing. Etho got his feet underneath himself and clung to Skizz, staggering out of the water as quick as he could. He heard feet pounding on the dock, and glanced over to watch Tango sprint across the wood. He stooped, grabbed up Etho's basket, and sprinted back with it, the reaching, clawed hand of the thing that looked like BDubs snapping for his ankles and missing.

"I got him!" Skizz shouted to Tango, scrambling onto the grass, refusing to let Etho go until they were well up the path. "Did you see how close he was?!"

"Yeah I saw!" Tango snapped, choking on his own fear, gulping in air and coughing it back out again. "It tried to drag me in!"

"Oh my god, are you okay dude?" Skizz demanded, and, when Tango nodded, he turned back to Etho. "Are you okay? I didn't see you go under. Can you breathe?"

Etho, who had collapsed into the grass the moment Skizz released him, lay there gasping like a hooked fish. He shivered, pale and cold from how long he spent in the water-- how long had he been in the water. He could still feel the thing's burning claws in streaks across his neck, and a tickling of blood at the back of his head.

"Etho?"

"I'm okay," Etho gasped, "I'm sorry I just-- I needed-- I wanted--"

"I know what you wanted!" Tango snapped angrily, the anger of someone who had risked his life. The anger of someone who thought a friend of his was dead, or dying. "But it's not him, Etho."

"It sounds like him," Etho whispered. He threw an arm over his eyes and shivered again. "It sounds like him, though."

"I know it does buddy, I know," Skizz said, his voice full of sympathy and pity. He waited with mountainous patience as Etho pulled himself together, and then helped Etho stand.

Together, they walked back to the fort.

Behind them, something cursed and hungry in the dark water, sang, and its voice was sweet and familiar.

#the barking writer #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #last life smp #llsmp #last life boogieman #tangotek #skizzleman #siren #siren!bdubs #last life au #last life series #god dont ask #just don't ask me okay i got like #i was having Visions From God #I needed to write scary siren bdubs trying to drown etho #i was aiming for spooky im not sure if i got there #this is unedited and unproofread #i just needed to get it Out Of My Head i do apologize

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were-changing-cake-vaults · 7 months

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Etho cannot deny that in some way, the ocean is messing with his friends, and that he noticed far too late.

It targets Gem first, long before it goes after anyone else, so subtly it’s almost undetectable. Here’s the way he notices: her little boat is cute, but the mangrove wood on the trim seems old and rotten in some places, murky river water staining the paint that coats the sides. The lighthouse, when built, seems washed out, as if the color has been sucked from the stone that forms it. Etho finds this strange, but refuses to jump to conclusions- Gem is still his little sibling with the same warm smile, so he lets it be for now.

It’s really when the fishing craze begins where Etho starts having doubts about the normalcy of things. Grian is in no way an average person most of the time, but this level of dedication is new and sort of suspicious. It starts with the mending book, which is fine, since he’s decided to avoid villager trading this season. Etho comes over sometimes and jokes about the luck of the sea. Here is where it gets weird, though: when he comes over to make that joke again, Grian turns his head, oh so slowly, expression serious and eyes blank as he replies.

“The ocean will provide the book. It’s the next one, I know it.”

It takes a little more effort than it should for Etho to not turn tail and run. The tambre of his friend’s voice is off-kilter and strange, almost hollow in the way it echoes. And it’s the way he doesn’t say mending, he just says the book- Etho can’t help but feel like he isn’t fishing for enchantments anymore. The air smells of rot and slime. He swallows bile, gives a little uh-huh as a reply, and leaves as soon as he can.

Then there’s Pearl and Beef, obsessed with salmon, of all things. Pearl’s thing seems like a one-off, but Doc tells him that Beef has taken the joke about “big salmon” a little too far, claiming he’s gotten emails from them that have threatened the goat directly. Etho doesn’t really know what to make of that, or Pearl’s salmon head, or the continuous slapping of fish on noteblocks that’s driving him insane.

But he knows this: he’s never really liked fishing before, not for its intended use, anyway. It’s good to have in a death game, but not once has Etho found the monotonous motions of fishing appealing. Grian said it best himself: he used to think fishing was lame. And he did. Does. He thinks it’s lame. He thinks all of this stuff about the river and the boats and the ocean and the salmon and the rot is all really weird and not at all cool. He’s only here to make sure his friends are okay. Not to fish, because he doesn’t want to, just to keep Magic Mountain in line.

But Grian says it again: Etho walked up here and was like ‘this is lame’, now look at him! Etho, in turn, looks at his hands. When did he start fishing? Was the sun always that high in the sky? Did the ocean always sing like that? Was there always a magnetic force to the waves at the shore, pulling him closer with every lap of sea foam? Was the lighthouse always this beautiful?

No, no it wasn’t. He knows this. Something is very, very wrong. There’s something in the water that’s making his friends lose it, and there’s something supernatural that’s trying to pull him in. He needs to get out of here, back to the jungle, with its nice green grass and earthy smells-

To his right, Etho hears his death call. The bell rings, the swan sings, and the water keeps lapping at his feet. It’s too late, he knows it, in the way that his hands are gripping the fishing pole with white knuckles, in the way the lilypads seem to grow under his feet to get him closer to the great deep blue. The music continues, the serenade settling into his bones, giving him an eerie sense of calm.

In the magnetic pull of the moment, he doesn’t even realize he’s crying.

#woosh writes #hermitcraft #ethoslab #grian #geminitay #oceans calling au #<- that’s the tag I’m using for this- l will edit the other fics tag to have this later #anyways I’m So Fucking Normal about this

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shepscapades · 2 months

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looking through your docsuma tag.....love them. wish they had one more combined braincell so they could realize their feelings

HERE'S THE THING THOUGH OKAY the problem is actually that they're both too smart about their feelings. you've got me down a horrible rabbit hole okay let me do my best to explain without being a freak(reading this back over, i failed <3).

Xisuma takes longer to realize, first of all. He's got so much to deal with coming out of s8 and through the beginning of s9 that quite frankly he's really just grateful to have another friend he can count on and trust, and he's so consumed by getting the androids back in working order on top of his actual season 9 plans (on top of Cleo shoving self care down his throat and demanding that he make a better habit of taking breaks and taking care of himself, which takes a LONG time to adjust to, if it can be argued that he ever does) that he doesn't really realize he's developed feelings for Doc until his heart beats him over the head with it randomly one day. Probably sometime in S10. Even then, because of said busy-ness, I think Xisuma has a very hard time getting over the meta-ness of a creator developing feelings for his creation and the selfishness of that reality amidst all of his other responsibilities, and he is likely too scared/overwhelmed to entertain the thought of the feelings themselves, much less the likelihood of reciprocation or the fantasy of a relationship.

Doc, on the other hand, realizes he is developing feelings for Xisuma kind of steadily throughout the course of s9, since that's when they start spending so much more time together in the lab working on androids and improving android tech. As a general statement, Doc is very aware of himself, all of the time. His awareness of the self is very important to his sense of normalcy and control, so any time he experiences a new emotion, he notes it, logs it.

So, while he's very aware of the feelings he's developing as they happen, he doesn't quite put a name to it/realize what it actually is until he talks to Tango and Etho, funnily enough--It's definitely one of those moments where Tango or Etho or whomever are explaining their struggles with the physical manifestations of their... idk, lovesickness-- ie, thirium pump rate irregularities, temperature fluctuations, influxes of feelings they've described as a combination of longing, affection, want, happiness, yearning... and Doc, as the unbiased third party to put 2 and 2 together, explains to them that those are obvious signs of romantic attraction, only very belatedly realizing several hours later that those are the exact symptoms he hasn't quite been able to put a name to. Naturally he's exceptional about being quiet about this realization until he slips up during a maintenance check-in with Tango sometime after, who is not doing well in s9, and Tango (mid romance-ranting) catches the passing of a wistful expression on Doc's face and calls him out for "totally thinking about someone right now" (Teasing aside, tango promises to keep Doc's secret).

So, despite knowing well his feelings before X ever develops his own, Doc is actually very, very careful about them-- He knows more than anyone else how busy Xisuma is. He knows how stressed X is. He also knows Xisuma seems to be more knowledgeable when it comes to emotions and feelings, and despite the clear signs that Xisuma shows interest(?) in him as well, Doc can only assume there is a good reason nothing romantic has happened between them-- he trusts Xisuma more than anything, and he--firmly-- will not breach this trust by acting on something Xisuma does not seem to be ready for (or does not seem to want yet(yet?)). Therefore, Doc is patient, and even though as Season 10 develops and Doc becomes aware of the likelihood that Xisuma could return the feelings, he trusts Xisuma's emotional intuition more than anything. He, painfully, recognizes Xisuma's discomfort (or hesitation), concludes that there must be a missing variable in this equation he cannot grasp, and decides to let Xisuma lead because of it. He will not push farther than he feels Xisuma has.

It's definitely one of those "fell first" "fell harder" type situations I think. I'm normal about them. can you tell

#long post #dbhc #dbhc ask #dbhc doc #dbhc xisuma #docsuma #ask #anon #get me out of here #im not okay about them #bye #let me know if i should put that under a read more i coulodn't find a good spot for it so i decided not to but also its kinda long so #lays face down on the floor

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theminecraftbee · 10 months

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task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.

Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.

Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.

Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.

Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.

Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.

Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!

Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.

Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.

Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!

Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?

Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?

Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.

Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?

BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.

Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

#secret life smp #a bee fic #not tagging everyone in this because it's. everyone #anyway i have wanted to write this for like TWO WEEKS so i figured that now's as good a time as any #anyway this is probably as thinly disguised as my character meta gets #we talk a LOT in this fandom about curses #we talk about whether we like them as fanon we talk about whether we dislike them we talk about who has them we talk about why #we talk about if they're here or broken or anything else #so i'd like to think the characters have an opinion on curses too after how much talking about them we've been doing #...at least the characters around to tell us their opinions do.#(anyway for all I claim this is thinly disguised character meta it IS actually of note that this isn’t actually about if they believe)#(but instead about how they’d respond if they were asked)#(hence why half of them don’t even answer the right question)#(this is why I’m not good at character meta btw)

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astrowarr · 10 months

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i want to point something out, actually.

it wasn't grian's fault etho looked at the enderman- of course it wasn't. but this is one of the few times that, after his actions indirectly killed one of his allies, said ally defended him after.

etho insisted that no, actually, that wasn't grian's fault; it was him being silly, getting himself killed. he wouldn't even tolerate anyone suggesting otherwise. compare this to say, limited life: grian innocently pushes a button, killing his friend. jimmy is furious, immediately starts gnashing his teeth at grian because it doesn't matter if the trap wasn't his, this was his fault.

it's so interesting to me how grian, etho, and cleo prove over and over again just how strong they are together. they see the best in one another and they make each other better because of it. they give each other room for mistakes, room to breathe. this- at least for grian- is a long lost luxury

grian killed his friend, but he didn't lose him the way he always seems to

#this is nothing against jimmy btw. bad boys for life #just something that FASCINATES me #i love this little trio so so much #there's so much love here #unexpectedly #grian #ethoslab #zombiecleo #roomies #secret life spoilers #secret life #trafficblr #etho

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goingdownorup · 1 month

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Thinking about limited life again.

It made sense Etho went with TIES.

Etho went with TIES because he’s comfortable with the three of them. Because even though Bdubs was there when Scar asked if Etho could be their dad, Etho wasn’t comfortable enough with Scar and Cleo to even attempt…whatever they were trying to do with him at first. He had been with Tango and Skizz once before, and Impulse and him worked really close together the previous game, even if it was mainly for Etho and Bdubs benefit. It was based around being comfortable with each other.

All three of them knew Etho’s flaws. All three of them were well aware of Etho’s bias to Bdubs, and honestly, used it to their advantage. All three of them knew how to work around that, how to plot under Etho’s nose and sometimes even in front of him if it meant Etho could keep plausible deniability. They knew his strengths too, his loyalty, his mind. His mob farm was probably the biggest supplier of gunpowder that season, for everyone. The flaws and strengths didn’t matter as much as the fact that Tango, Skizz, and Impulse all wanted him on the team, and that the team never felt like it was fracturing. It wasn’t two and two like BEST was, it was four strong from the beginning. It was comfortable, because all three of them wanted Etho there. Not just Bdubs, not just Scar for a bit, SIT was prepared to do what it took for Etho to commit to their team up.

And maybe, that’s why it hurts so much that they had Etho take the final kill for Skizz.

They had built a comfortable place for Etho and now they were asking him to destroy that. Etho could go back to TIES tower and be greeted by people he KNEW were friends and allies. These guys would never betray Etho, just like he would never betray them. All three of them had the same kind of loyalty that Etho has, self-destructive in the name of character. Etho had just been hunted and hunting his own family down for time, getting knocked down time and time again and had finally come back to his home with his tail between his legs. He was panicked, more panicked than normal with his clock ticking down at the corner of his screen, he was walking into a scene half done and taking it over with a frustrated cry, which isn’t something Etho usually does.

But he did, because he felt comfortable doing so.

And then Skizz throws him the ax, Tango acts like someone shot his dog, and Impulse just stares.

And suddenly, it's not comfortable anymore.

It’s not comfortable that Impulse is one step away from dissociating. It’s not comfortable that Tango has tears trailing down his face, that both of them look almost angry that Etho picked up the ax in the first place. It’s horribly jarring, to come into a meeting expecting comfort for his failures and be greeted with a worse opportunity.

Because Skizz- the nicest guy in this match, the man who looked at Etho and said “i want him to join us”- is telling Etho to kill him. Ordering him to, actually, his final order of the game. No amount of pleading looks will get Tango and Impulse to do what Skizz wants done, Etho’s only defense is quickly shut down when they bring up just how much time Etho still had.

It’s not comfortable to see Skizz’s head roll off the edge of skynet. It’s not comfortable, the next session, when Impulse and Tango look to him for leadership. This game wasn’t meant to be comfortable, and Etho forgot about that. TIES was the most comfortable team up for him, and in the end, it created one of the most heart wrenching ends for all of them.

#the comparison of comfort to a feeling of home is something I can’t get out of my head #something something etho wanting comfort and familiarity so bad he starts talking to ghosts #idk man I just love TIES so much #limited life #ethoslab #impulsesv #skizzleman #tango tek #life series smp #team ties

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mawofthemagnetar · 4 months

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Scar Talks.

(This is a prequel to another tumblr fic I wrote. Check it out!)

“…As I was saying, Scar,” Doc chuckled evilly, “we have ways of making you talk.”

“Really?” Scar said incredulously. He pulled on the restraints tying his arm to the chair, “I mean, Doc, I’ve been in a lot of interrogations before. You don’t have the chops.”

Scar glanced across the room, to where Keralis was leaning against a suspiciously-blank wall. Apart from Keralis’ perch, the chamber was empty, and Scar decided to ignore it for now. He had far more pressing concerns, like the awful sartorial choices of his fellow Hermits.

Both of them were wearing matching white suits with black ties and dress shoes, which Scar thought made them look very silly. He’d humor them for awhile (and make fun of them for sure), and then he was making for the door.

Speaking of the door… His wheelchair was still parked beside him. Not that it was much help, because the door was still locked. Great. Well, never hurt to try some honeyed words…

“By the way, this is the most accessible interrogation room I’ve ever been in. No sills, nice flat hallways, big doors. Top three for sure. Thanks for that.” Scar said warmly.

Doc sniffed, doing his best to hide his smile.

“Of course. What do you take me for? Anyway. We’re getting off-topic, Scar. Like I said, we have ways of making you talk. And you’re going to tell us everything you know.”

“I don’t think so. You two don’t have deep enough pockets for that.” Scar chuckled.

“But Sweetface,” Keralis said, batting his eyes, “I need to know! I need to! It’s important!”

“Well, what do you want to know? Maybe we can work something out,” Scar said smoothly, “make all of this unnecessary.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you. You know where Etho keeps his computer, yes? And his keyboard. And his tissue box. I just want to give him better things.” Keralis said, pressing his hands to his chest, “You just have to tell us where he keeps these things. It isn’t that hard.”

Scar shook his head.

“So that’s what you’re after…Well, no can do, Keralis. Etho swore me to secrecy. And is paying me handsomely.”

Keralis shrugged.

“Suit yourself. Doc? Take it away.”

Doc stepped in front of Scar with an evil smile.

“One chance. Tell us where Etho keeps that keyboard, and you can leave.”

Scar smirked.

“This ain’t my first rodeo, Doc. I’m not telling you anything.”

Doc just shrugged, and punched a button on the wall.

Scar spared a glance at Keralis, who was smiling benevolently.

A slimestone flying machine slid up, revealing a well-lit room on the other side of a tinted glass wall. In that room, Iskall and Gem sat on either sides of a table, chatting away with big smiles on their faces.

“That’s your method? Chitchat?” Scar raised an eyebrow, “This is pathetic.”

Doc leaned in, eyes blazing with menace.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky,” he said softly, “this glass is completely soundproof. They can’t hear a word we’re saying in there. But there’s speakers in the walls. You’ll be able to hear everything.”

Scar frowned.

“How’s that going to help?”

Doc grinned, and tapped a button on his wrist.

“Gem? Iskall? Time for you to earn your pay. If you’re both ready…we can begin.”

Both hermits craned their necks up to look at the ceiling. They both shrugged, and then they started to talk.

The speakers kicked on, and-

“No, that’s not right.” Gem said, “See, that Anakin guy was the bounty hunter, right? With the friend who’s dressed as a bear?”

“Oh, yeah, right. My bad. And then the guy in the like, blue and white trashcan, he’s…?” Iskall scratched his head and started to write something on a piece of paper.

Scar’s eyes bugged out.

“Doc. How long are they going to do this?” Scar said, beads of sweat staring to form on his forehead. His smile was gone.

“That’s up to you.” Doc said with a vicious smile.

“-Okay, I think I got this worked out,” Gem said, “so that Obiwobi guy fought off the Death Star with a sword?”

Scar screamed.

“Yeah, now you’re getting it. And then that Luke guy was all, “I am your father!” to, uh, what was her name again?” Iskall scratched his head.

“I think it was Lilo?” Gem said, “Yeah, definitely Lilo.”

Scar threw his head back and screamed.

“I’L TALK! I’LL TALK! MAKE IT STOOOOOOPPPPPP!!!”

#magnetar writes #Hermitfic #GoodtimeswithScar #Silly #IDK man I was just having fun with it

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