#limited life writing

[goldenflurry]

It’d been a few days since the session, yet everyone seemed to move on faster than TIES, or well.. TIE, could. The three of them had been sitting around the base, and the tower, not speaking much, but words spinning around all their heads.

Tango had found himself sitting near the chickens most often, a feeling of something missing, a hint at a time long pasted. The times of heart ache watching as a soulmate died, and how you would be doomed to fall next. Tango knew, of course, that the soul bond had been removed as that season ended, of course it had, the two weren’t even on the same server, for the most part, afterwards. But as he watched over the chickens and the cows something didn’t feel right, the ache of someone missing, the feeling of a hole.. maybe it was just that he missed being around Skizz, the guy who could always bring a positive spin to basically all situations. Hell, he even got Tango to have a giggle got while Skizz was actively being hunted.

He knew he’d see Skizz again, eventually, Jimmy too, but it didn’t help that the two were actively gone in the moment. Something felt off, and unusual, about how the three died, but maybe he was thinking too hard about it. Yeah, they would be fine after the games ended, and that feeling of emptiness would go away as soon as he saw them at the end of the games.

Impulse had been sitting, watching, and thinking. Spending most of his time on, or around, skynet. Walking through the areas that TIES had built, where Skizz spent his last moments, and where tnt minecarts took out so many. While the session was paused they weren’t allowed to change anything, which usually didn’t bother Impulse all too much, but he felt it was a missed opportunity to make a memorial for Skizz. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need for it in the first place, but he could see the whole team was down in the dumps since the last session ended.

Maybe if they had a place all three could have gone, they would’ve been able to talk it out, maybe they could figure out why, why Skizzle’s time running out affected them so much. Why it effected him so much. He’d seen Skizz’s final lives before, why was it so different, so heart wrenching? Maybe he should ask for answers, maybe he will just think about it instead, maybe the end will just show him Skizz is okay and that’s all he will need.

Etho had found himself swimming in a pool of guilt as he hung around the mob farm. Maybe he should’ve said something different, maybe he shouldn’t have taken the time, maybe he should have tried to convince them all to wait out the last twenty, or so, minutes that Skizz had left. Then maybe he wouldn’t feel so responsible for Impulse and Tango looking so distressed. Of course he knew that was the only option at the time, Skizz wanted to go out on his own terms with his own team, of course he did. Skizz made it a point this season even, to make sure everyone knew how great they were, how good they are, and how proud of them he is. Etho sat staring out the world border, he knew Skizz wasn’t the only thing on his mind but, that’s what made him think back to Skizz more.

Etho couldn’t understand why Joel kept appearing in his thoughts, they had only teamed once after all, they weren’t even that close this season. But that nagging feeling kept hitting his mind, something about losing him in the session felt off. A familiar feeling of heart break, a flash to the time he watched as his soulmate fell to the ground while playing with fishing rods. The soulmate that was quite the opposite of himself, the soulmate that when changing color didn’t sit and think too hard about how that means he was one step closer to the end, but more so took it as an opportunity to be himself more and more. The fear of death only hitting him as the obvious fact he couldn’t avoid it came around.

Etho found himself thinking back to the Boat Boys more often than he thought he would, maybe the Bad Boys was just too close of a name, maybe seeing Joel have a more genuine experience with the people he’s with felt like he did something wrong, or perhaps it was just, the feeling of emptiness as he thought about his previous soulmate. How it felt like a part of him was missing, that part of him was gone for good. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, that feeling, but Etho always seemed to feel it as the thoughts went through, he was just glad the season would be over soon and everyone would go back to their lives.

[mies-writing]

Nobody has written a sickfic yet, so I‘ll do it. :]

I forgot this account even existed tbh. Anyway have the bad boys taking care of sick Grian!

(Spoilers for session 3 of Limited Life!)

His eyes fell shut again. Slowly. He was so tired and his cheeks were burning bright red.

Joel came over, a mountain of blankets in his arms. „Grian, my boy, I brought you some blankets.”, he announced, dumping them next to the bird man, before arranging them over and around his friend to make him feel safe and comfortable.

After successfully covering the sick man, he sat down next to him to wait for Jimmy, who came around soon after with some tea and some cold bandages to lower Grian’s fever.

„Here you go, babe.” He snickered and gave Joel the bandages, so he could carefully pour some tea into Grian’s mouth, who was still feverishly and very dissociated looking into the air.

„Thanks, babe.”, Joel replied with a grin and put the bandage on Grian’s head. Jimmy put down the tea a few feet away, in case anyone accidentally hit it, and sat down next to the other two bad boys.

„Poor Grian. He’s gonna miss the whole session.”, he commented and looked at Grian with a pitiful look in his eyes.

Joel nodded, before tilting his head. “Hm… Maybe we could carry him around a bit. We definitely have to protect him!”

He stood up and shook his fist. Jimmy nodded. “Yes.”, he agreed and leaned against the blanket mountain around Grian, who seemed to cool down a bit.

“Hm… But how are we gonna transport him?”, Joel asked more rhetorical than anything.

Jimmy thought about it for a second before spotting the Llama a few blocks away from them. “Joel, I have an idea.” “Spit it out then.” Joel looked at the blonde over the top of his sunglasses.

„What if… we put Grian on that Llama!” He pointed at said Llama to illustrate his point.

The other man tilted his head again and thought about the idea for a few seconds. “That could work.”

He nodded and looked back at Grian and then at Jimmy again. “But we have to take good care of Grian!“

- They did not in fact take perfect care of Grian, but they tried -

[applepixls]

saw this template and thought it'd be fun...

[mumblesplash]

🌴⌛️🐚🌊

[shaytheantagonist]

My Roman Empire is how the life series writes itself. Here are some coincidences that I think about frequently:

1. Every person who has ever won a life series (Real Life included) was paired with another winner in Double Life (Grian & Scar, Scott & Pearl, Martyn & Cleo)

2. Several members had patterns in their deaths in Secret Life (All of Grian’s deaths happened while a large portion of the remaining server members were present, all of Scott’s deaths were arranged & he let whoever killed him kill him, all of Etho’s deaths were from Scar killing him, all of Jimmy’s deaths were from mobs of increasing strength (drowned, dragon & warden), all of Mumbo’s deaths were because of poor walking (walked off a ledge, walked into lava, walked into his own fence posts) & all of Martyn’s deaths happened in different dimensions)

3. Jimmy being out first 4 times in a row

4. Grian winning 3rd Life & then being dead last in the VR recreation of 3rd Life

5. Mumbo always having his final death moments after Jimmy’s final death

6. Pearl & Scar winning their seasons after being the underdog the entire season & having it the hardest

7. The first interaction Etho & Joel had in the entire life series was while they were in boats

8. Every time Scott is in the final two, whoever loses dies to a mob they didn’t know was behind them (Ren in Last Life, Scott in Real Life)

9. Jimmy always cursing at least one of his allies to do horribly each season (3rd Life was Scott’s lowest placement ever, 10th. Last Life: both Mumbo & Impulse were in the bottom 4. Double Life: Tango played poorly and was responsible for 2/3 of their deaths. Limited Life, Joel was out third & The Bad Boys died A LOT. Secret Life: Martyn was the first yellow AND the first red despite literally winning the previous season. EVEN REAL LIFE, Jimmy teamed with Grian, Joel, Scar & Impulse, who were the first 4 to be eliminated.)

10. Since Double Life, Pearl has wanted her allies to win the current seasons, she has outlived all of her main allies every season since then (Big B in Limited Life & Mumbo, BDubs & Joel in Secret Life)

11. Joel literally & metaphorically being the reason Lizzie was the first one out instead of Jimmy in Secret Life (Lizzie only died because she was trying to kill Scott to help out with Joel’s assassin task, by the time she tried to kill him & died in the process, Joel had already failed his task & just hadn’t told her yet, so if he had told her that he had failed, she wouldn’t have taken Scott to the end & fallen into the void & Jimmy probably would’ve first out again. Also when they were hosting an early funeral for Jimmy, Joel opened the grave & told Jimmy to “Rise”, I think this was Joel unknowingly breaking the curse.)

12. The fact that Gem’s final death is always her coming 3rd & dying in a 2v1 situation.

13. Joel’s first death in Last Life was fall damage, his first death in Secret Life was also fall damage. The reason Joel ended up on red life in Last Life was because of the Boogeyman curse (both times), in Secret Life, he because red because of being killed by a Boogeyman. In Last Life Joel’s final death was at the hands of Scott, causing him to place 5th, in Secret Life, Joel’s final death was being killed by Scott, causing him to place 5th. I’m leaving out one of Joel’s Last Life deaths, specifically when he died to Mumbo in self defence, but that’s mostly cuz there are more deaths in Last Life than Secret Life

This isn’t even all of them, there are so many more!

[smallidarityfan]

smallidarity highschool au

came up with this au like actually 2 years ago where it's mainly empires 2 smallidarity centric, with Jimmy as a student council member and Joel as an honours student who doesn't like the way Jimmy runs things around the school.

As payback for the regulations Jimmy put up that Joel thought was stupid, Joel does these elaborate 'The Office' style pranks on Jimmy (specifically) while Jimmy retaliates by trying his best to dig up dirt on Joel. This banter goes on for a while— however Joel ends up doing the pranks less as a statement, and instead more just to see how Jimmy would react... with his comical, cartoony villain yells, and... weirdly cute face....? (YAOI YAOI YAOI YAOI)

very very old au drawings below:

from July 2023

😭😭 joel does NOT look like a highschooler here 😭😭😭😭 (i also wanted to draw angst in the first two ig idk a year later it's pretty cringe [i am still cringe]) (also partially inspired by when I read "Go for it, Nakamura!" and the mc reminded me of joel for no actual reason. or maybe i was just thinking about that manga while drawing smallidarity. idk)

from November 2022:

I think these doodles were genuinely the first instance of me converting from being against mcyt shipping to for shipping LMAOO

[ex0toxin]

awughhh silly shipchart.. my canonverse hcs 🧠

og post

[yuechicake]

traits in other people that the touchstarved characters dislike on a visceral level:

vere: empathy. vere used to be a god, false or not, so for someone to try to condescend him by saying they understand him, or, worse, that they feel bad for him... it rankles his pride and sets his teeth on edge. how far the mighty have fallen for ants to pity someone they used to cower before.

mhin: indulgence. mhin hates their monstrous nature and monstrosity by extension, so they despise seeing people indulge in monstrosity. to revel in something so unnatural, so wrong, when they've done their best to contain what they can and control what they can't--no wonder mhin can't stand vere and ais.

leander: superiority. leander is always in charge, whether it's through charisma, overt leadership, or more shadowy schemes. if he acts weak, then it's usually a facade and part of some plan he has in mind. so to truly face something he can't win, something that far outclasses him... it's a reminder of his own powerlessness, and he despises an unwinnable challenge.

ais: ease. ais loves a bloody challenge. the more it pushes him, the better, so when a fight comes easily, when someone succumbs without a struggle, when the win is just handed to him, it bores him to an intolerable degree. softness to the point of rot: it's the one thing that he can't truly stand.

kuras: decadence. kuras has always been a shepherd who guides his wayward flock. as someone who believes in his own guilt and his need for repentance, he truly can't understand those who are selfish, those who are cruel, those who live by their own whims without considering the world around them. it's distasteful, and far too short-sighted.

[yikes-ajax]

I dont have a clever and witty sarcastic comment tonight, I just think she's cute

[a-memory-a-distant-echo]

inspired by several recent conversations, because it's plaguing me.

for the purposes of this poll, a wip is any creative project (not work project, even if you do creative work—this is just funsies stuff) that you have started creating and intend (or hope) to finish. the ones in the time-out corner count, as long as you're still kinda rotating it in your brain—mental work counts as work.

no 'other' option. toughen up and pick an option. i believe in you.

also i know perfectly well that people have lots of justifications for whatever number of things they're working on, but these were the ones that came to mind when i made the poll, so they're what's here.

also please take seeing this post as an invitation to make a post about your wips and why you love them. i always feel super awkward and weird posting about things that i'm trying to create, but i love hearing about what people are working on and why they like it.

[eluminium]

WHAT IS IT WITH SKIZZ AND THE NUMBER 3???

I don't get it man, this guy. THIS GUY. He just CAN'T SEEM to escape the number three. Don't believe me?

What about the fact that he's died 3rd every single series he's been in? Yep, both in 3rd life and in last life, this man died third. And in the exact same way too, foolishly charging into the enemy with no plan other than bloodshed. Which fails.

What about THIS????

LIKE YOU CAN'T TELL ME THAT A LITTLE BIT SUS. IN 3RD LIFE TOO. 3RD LIFE. WHERE THE FIRST 2 KILLS WERE HIS.

What about the fact he's only ever had 3 lives assigned to him?

What about the fact that in B.E.S.T, S is the 3rd letter?

What about the fact that he missed Double Life, the 3rd season of the Life Series??

What about the fact that because he missed Double Life, he’s been apart of 3 seasons of the Life series???

AND NOW. WHAT ABOUT THE FACT THAT IN SESSION 1 OF LIMITED LIFE, HE DIES 3 TIMES IN THE FIRST SESSION????

LIKE WHAT IS HIS DEAL??? WHY IS HE SO HAUNTED BY THE NUMBER 3??? HOW DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING????

And I mean, he's usually portrayed as an Angel in fanart. and 3 is considered a holy number. The Rule of 3, the Trinity, and its symbolism in numerology... (yes that's a thing. don't ask me how I know.) It all ties together. And it ties together to the man whose heart is too big for his head. To the man who, despite all the flair, has never killed in anything but self-defense, in the service of another. To the guy whose entire schtick so far in Limited Life is not to kill, but to appreciate the time he has and the people he's around. To the guy who's drawn as an angel.

I KNOW THIS SOUNDS LIKE A CONSPIRACY THEORY AND IT MIGHT BE BUT LIKE, YOU SEE IT DON'T YOU??? THE PATTERNS???? IT'S INSANE. I DON'T GET IT.

Now idk what you could do with this as like a design thing. Could have like a third wing sticking out of his neck so he'd have 3 wings? Could have a halo with 3 rings? Idk man, I ain't the artist, but I feel like there's potential here.

Could also have Dove symbolism? Y'know, doves and angels, doves usually being associated with peace and Skizz having a very nonviolent and more negotiating approach. I mean he spared both Scar and Bdubs in 3rd Life, he chose mercy when really, he could have killed them together with the Red Army. And after Skizz dies is always when everything goes to true shit. After his death came the final battles of Dogwarts in 3rd life. After his death, the Wither was summoned in Last Life and everything fell into slowly decaying chaos. First goes the canary, the first warning that time has run out. Second goes an innocent other, to hammer in that there's no return. And to complete the rule of 3, the dove follows the canary. The death of peace, a final warning. That now there will be no more.

im a little insane about skizzleman okay.

[theminecraftbee]

Jimmy notices Scott sitting near the edge of the Ace Race launch. They’re both on the practice server; it’s a good place to hang out. Gets away from the kinds of lives they live elsewhere, even if Jimmy figures the one he’s got right now is good enough. Scott’s here a lot, Jimmy’s found; it’s probably some combination of whatever the weird messenger thing he has going on with Noxite is and the number of other lives he’s lived. Jimmy bets it’s just quieter here than, like, he doesn’t know, he’s heard something about pirates?

Anyway, he’s always down to say hi to Scott. Also, Scott looks—strange. Diminished feels rude. Not preening like a peacock? No weird ethereal glow? It can’t be that the romance has worn off, it never really did, not all the way, Jimmy’s always seen him as sort of made of lace and marble and beautiful things from the beginning and even now that they’re like, friends friends, it’s just—

Jimmy plants himself in the grass. He can’t find a poppy, but he can find a dandelion. Close enough?

“Flower for your thoughts?” he says cheerfully.

Scott looks up. He laughs. “You can’t be doing that, Jimmy. We’ll get double-married. I already have too many husbands, you can’t be on there twice.”

“I think I can marry my flower husband as many times as I want,” Jimmy says.

“We barely even do a romance anymore.”

“Well, excuse you for not being a romantic.”

“Me? I’m not the romantic? Me?” Scott says incredulously.

“Well I don’t know how it would be me,” Jimmy says imperiously. He pauses, huffs, and sits down next to Scott. “I mean, we can do romance if you want. Hadn’t done that the last few lives because, you know, work better as friends right now, but I can totally wow you. I can, uh. Uh. Make… chocolate? No, I can’t do that, actually, don’t hold me to that—”

Jimmy pauses.

“Scott,” he says.

“No, keep going,” Scott says weakly.

“Have I done something wrong?” Jimmy asks.

“No, no, it’s just—sort of being a messenger god, I get a feel for things, and—it’s gonna happen again soon, Jimmy.”

“Oh, okay,” Jimmy says. They both know what they’re talking about. “I’m absolutely gonna win this time, just so you know.” He says it with all the false bravado of a person who’s mostly just hoping he doesn’t die first again. This time, this time, this time. He’ll do it by his own merits, though; he’s not sure what he would have done if Joel had actually gone through with the halting plan to die for him that he’d told Jimmy about last time. Probably crowed on happily about it, honestly, but with needles in his stomach the whole time.

Scott hasn’t responded yet.

“You don’t have to worry. You’re way too good at this. Constant finalist, now that you don’t have me weighing you down,” Jimmy tries.

“I shouldn’t talk about this with you,” Scott says.

“Rude,” Jimmy says. “We’re husbands at least twice over.”

“Yeah, but do you ever regret it? Don’t you—don’t you regret it?” Scott bursts out. “Don’t you ever wake up and—and you weren’t good enough to protect them and you’re not good enough to be loyal to and frankly you aren’t good enough to follow the rules either and, and so you’re just constantly winning. And you aren’t trying and you just think, if you’d just—if you’d just fucking slowed down, figured out how to protect—this is stupid. I’m proud of Martyn. Got him to win, at least. I can’t regret him winning. I wouldn’t have wanted anything else. I never have. Forget I said anything.”

Jimmy stares.

“I don’t regret it,” he says, and he’s surprised to realize he’s telling the truth.

“Not even for all the mocking?” Scott says.

“I mean. Wouldn’t have teamed with Grian and Joel if…”

“Oh,” Scott says. He stares out over the practice server. Jimmy cannot guess what’s going on in his head. No matter how many lives they’re friends, husbands, lovers both star-crossed and casual, enemies, and friends again in, Jimmy has to admit, Scott’s kind of a closed book. It’s one of the character flaws he has to make up for being perfect at everything else.

It’s part of what makes him Scott.

“I don’t regret it,” Jimmy says, almost more urgently.

“Oh,” Scott says again. “I do.”

Jimmy’s not sure what to say to that.

He’s never been good enough at winning much of anything to understand that kind of regret, is the thing. Blessing, curse, whatever else, he just…

“Sorry. I’ll be better tomorrow. Not normally the kind of person for this stuff,” Scott says. “It’s not that I’m not confident, it’s just…”

That, though. That, Jimmy can understand.

He scoots closer to Scott.

“Let’s race. I’ll totally beat you so badly. I was watching CPK do skips. And, I don’t know about you, but…”

“Yeah, you’ll hit those in your dreams,” Scott says. Neither of them move to stand up, though. They remain sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, watching other participants jump off the launch. It’s nice here. Quiet. A place apart from all the lives they live. Jimmy wonders if that’s why Scott’s here so much. Jimmy might have to show up too; that’s what increasingly old friends are for, he figures.

[jellieland]

A week or two after the games, Grian will usually check in with the victor.

It's a habit that's probably more for his own benefit than anyone else's. But it is, he thinks, a good habit nonetheless.

After all, as fun as it all is, things can get a bit... intense, towards the end, and it's good for his peace of mind to make sure the last one standing is ok with how things shook out.

Nothing much has ever really come of it before; they're all pretty resilient. He doubts this time’ll be different. Except- well.

Something about it all itches at the back of his mind, and he hasn’t been able to work out why. There was the actual ending, of course, but also Grian may have been whispering in Martyn's ear about how boring that final showdown was turning out to be, and how narratively satisfying it would be if he just betrayed the other two and got it over with, so.

If nothing else, it feels like he's got no reason to break with tradition.

There's just one more concern.

Martyn seems to have made it almost impossible to contact him.

It's not... unheard of, for players to keep to themselves most of the time, especially when it comes to those they don’t share a server with. It seems a little uncharacteristic of Martyn, but the last time Grian saw him outside the games was before they even started, so maybe he does things differently these days.

There are certainly a great many reasons why that could be the case, most of which are perfectly sensible.

But Grian's never been able to resist picking at a puzzle put in front of him, whether the puzzle likes it or not, so he is going to talk to Martyn. And he can just see what happens, and worry about any consequences if and when they appear.

Luckily, he already has a way to do just that.

He doesn't usually need to do this - although it is very funny to startle Scar or Mumbo with it sometimes when they're concentrating. Honestly it's usually less effective than communicators, with how much effort it takes.

But he does have a way. The same way he used to whisper in Martyn's ear very recently, in fact.

He reaches out, away from his home, away from his body, and it feels a little like simultaneously overextending himself, and putting his foot down on a step he thought was flat ground.

That is... not how this usually feels.

It's odd. Rather unnerving.

But it works.

He finds Martyn. Watches the vague shape of him solidify into something more real.

He’s still wearing his red life outfit, for some reason. His eyes are closed. Around his head, the coral curls like a blood-red crown.

“What do you think you're playing at?” Asks Grian.

Martyn blinks his eyes open slowly, looking less confused than Grian would expect for someone hearing a disembodied voice out of nowhere. “Oh good.” He says dryly. “You again.”

He squawks indignantly. “Hey, what's that supposed to mean?”

There is silence for a few seconds.

“...Hey.” Martyn says, and as flippant as he suddenly sounds, he looks as thrown off balance as Grian feels. “Not sure who this is, but I think you might have the wrong number!”

“I think that's unlikely.” He deadpans. “Where are you? I haven't been able to get hold of you.”

“Uh-” There's a short pause as he looks around at wherever he is right now. “Falling into endless nothingness, looks like. Same old, same old, am I right?”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ok. Well, I suppose you don't have to tell me.” A part of him makes a note of Martyn’s wording, though. Just in case.

“...Hm. Well, not gonna lie, I do appreciate the change of pace, but I would love to know what exactly you want from me. You know, just on the off chance that you feel like giving me any clues.”

It's at this point that Grian remembers: one of the main reasons this method of communication is good for messing with people is that it makes him sound, um. A little different. And while he can see Martyn, it’s not as if Martyn can see him.

...Best to just pretend that hadn't slipped his mind.

“You do realize this is Grian, right?” He asks, as though it ought to be obvious.

“Riiight, yeah, sure.” Says Martyn. “And I'm also Grian, did you know that?”

“Oh for- what, do you want me to tell you some secret only the two of us would know, or something?”

“Nah.” Says Martyn. “That wouldn't work.”

“Elaborate.” Says Grian, through gritted teeth.

“You know what? I don't think I will!” Replies Martyn brightly.

Grian takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I'm beginning to wonder why I bother.” He grinds out.

Martyn snorts. “Tell me about it.”

There's a short silence.

“But- ok.” He continues. “Just suppose for the sake of argument that you are Grian.”

“...Yes?” Asks Grian warily.

“I have a question for you.”

“...Yeeees?” Asks Grian, even more warily.

The silence stretches for several long moments.

“What's up?” Asks Martyn.

“Yeah ok, this isn’t worth it, I'm leaving now.”

“Wait! No, I'm serious!” Under the amusement, there's a note of something that sounds almost like nervousness in his voice. It's uncharacteristic. Unnerving.

“What are you talking about?” Asks Grian, trying very hard to keep his voice at least mostly free of annoyance.

“Oh, you know! What's going on, what's the deal, what'd you want to talk to me for?” There's a slight hesitation. “You need help or something?”

“I- ok. That's actually sort of relevant. It's really nothing too complicated, Martyn.” He says, grumpily. “All I wanted to do was make sure you're good with what happened at the end of the last game.”

Martyn blinks, and goes very still.

There is a long silence - long enough that Grian starts to feel concerned.

And then Martyn laughs.

It's not a nice laugh.

“Good, huh. You want to know if I’m good with it. That sure is an interesting choice of words.”

“...How so?” He asks, guardedly.

“Grian. Grian, I’m not sure if you remember this, but I won. I won this one, Grian.” Every word he says, however restrained, sounds like it’s had to claw its way out of him. He glares at nothing. “And guess what? It's just like the others. I don’t really care enough for any of it to matter to me, anymore, and that's fine by me.”

Now that's... a lot to unpack. “You- I'm sorry?”

“Well that makes one of us then, doesn't it?” His voice is coated with scorn.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you actually think I’m going to explain myself to you?” He asks, looking half-amused. “You, of all people?”

“Well unfortunately, Martyn, I can’t exactly put Ren on the line, so I’m afraid I’m all you’re going to get.” He snaps, and instantly regrets it when he sees the look in Martyn’s eyes.

There is a short silence.

Grian shifts uncomfortably. He’s not going to apologize, obviously. But. Well. “That... ok, maybe that was a bit much.” He says.

“...Little bit, yeah.”

There is another silence.

After a while, Martyn speaks.

“I would’ve betrayed him too, you know.” He says coolly.

“What, Ren?”

“Yeah. At the drop of a hat. Soon as it was convenient.”

“I mean sure, I suppose?” Says Grian, caught off guard. “You didn’t, though. Did you? When you had the chance.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, as though that’s an irrelevant detail. “It would’ve been more dramatic later. You know how it is.”

...There's no real way he can justify saying no to that, is there? “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I do.”

He tries to picture the King, betrayed. The Hand, triumphant.

“I dunno, though.” He says, thoughtful. “I don’t think you ever could’ve done it, to be honest. Not in the first one. Whatever it was you were planning, it was just never how that story was going to go.”

“That’s not true.” He says it just slightly too fast. “I know that’s not true.”

Grian scoffs. “You know thinking about something isn’t the same as doing it, right?”

“What, no, really?” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t say!”

“What I’m saying,” He lets his voice turn biting, “Is that you’re being stupid.”

Martyn lets out a startled laugh. It’s surprisingly genuine. “Wow. You’re really bad at this, dude.”

Grian bristles. “Well why am I the one who has to do it then? Why don’t you talk to someone else, if you hate talking to me so much?”

“I mean…” He makes an unconvinced noise. “Obvious problems aside, when do you even expect me to do that? We usually have other things to worry about.”

“I don’t know, maybe at literally any point between the games?” He sighs exasperatedly. “There’s no way you’re that busy.”

“Between the games?” Martyn asks incredulously, and Grian suddenly feels as though something dangerous is hovering over their heads, just about to drop. “What do you mean, between the games?”

“I mean between the games! Like- now! What do you think this is, right now, if it’s not between the games?” He snaps.

“This right now?” He looks nonplussed. “I think we’re usually asleep for most of this bit. Or possibly we forget about it. As you can probably imagine, it’s hard to know for sure.”

“Now I know that’s not true.” He says firmly, ignoring the unease trying to creep up on him. “I know I do stuff between games, and I know I don’t just forget about it. That makes no sense.”

“I mean, I don't necessarily mean everything between the games, more just this specifically.” He gestures around at nothing. “That gets more complicated, though. But you- hm.” He looks curious. “That’s interesting. Where even are you, then, at the moment?”

“I’m at home! Which is where I thought everyone else was too!”

Martyn seems to consider this for a few moments, and then he frowns, and then his expression goes blank. “…Oh.” He says. “Yeah. No, that… makes sense, actually. Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Wha- what do you mean? Right about what?”

“Everyone probably went home. Or, at least, they thought they did. And hey, what’s the difference, when you get right down to it?”

“...Ok, I’m going to ignore the second part for now, I already got past that little existential crisis after Ren and Doc’s whole… thing… in season eight- if you think everyone went home, why are you- what was it you said- ‘falling into endless nothingness’?”

There’s another pause.

“...You’re really gonna make me say it, huh? That seems cruel, even for you.”

“Wait, no, what do you-”

“Where else do you think I would go?” It sounds less like an admission and more like an accusation. “What ‘home’ do you think I have left, Grian?”

“Look.” Snaps Grian, feeling vaguely tricked. “It’s not my fault that you-”

“Yeah, it never is, is it?” He glares into the darkness. “It’s always a tragic inevitability with you, never a choice you’re making. That way you get to stab people in the back and pretend to be sad about it. Best of both worlds, huh?”

Grian splutters for a few seconds. “Why are you being so rude to me??”

“Because you’re you and I’m me.” He smirks. “Don’t know what you expected, honestly.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s hiding behind inevitability now?” Grian retorts, perhaps a trifle vindictively.

“I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite, sometimes. Also, I never said I felt bad about it.” He replies levelly, and all at once, they’re talking about something else.

“You didn’t need to say it.” Snaps Grian. “You might be good at lying but you’re not perfect. I could see in your face that it hurt.”

He narrows his eyes. “It felt good, actually.”

“Wow, good for you.” He says, almost amused suddenly. “You didn’t say I was wrong, though.”

His expression twists into something unreadable. “I know you, Grian. Like recognizes like.” He says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re a liar.”

Grian shrugs, despite the fact that Martyn will not see it. “And you’re a coward. Your point?”

“I don’t need to justify myself to someone who refuses to admit that he could have chosen to be better, if he’d ever wanted to.” He spits out.

“Hey, at least I don’t try and convince myself I’m a monster just because I want to survive.”

That one strikes something tender; he can tell. “Right, yeah, and you’re just a blameless angel and everyone you cut down had it coming, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t say that. But since you bring it up… how many people did you give up your time for, again?” He grins. “Is it less than one? Because I think it is. I think I’ve got you beat there, Martyn.”

“And where did it get you?” He snarls.

“Home, in the end.”

Martyn flinches back as though he’s been struck.

“Did you forget about that part?” Asks Grian.

There’s a long pause.

Martyn fidgets with the end of the banner he wears around his waist, pulling at where the white threads are coming undone. He stares out into the darkness. “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I did.”

The satisfaction of winning the argument feels less potent, suddenly.

“You’re right.” Says Grian, after a while. “I’m really bad at this.”

Martyn laughs quietly. “To be fair, I’m not exactly helping.”

“You’re really not.”

He sighs. “You know pulling the knife out just makes the wound start bleeding again, don’t you? That’s all we’re doing here. That’s all we’re going to do to each other. We’re too alike to do anything else, unless we just don’t do anything. And hey, we’re not great at that either.”

“Hmm.” Says Grian begrudgingly. “I’d say something about inevitability again, but I honestly don’t think you’re wrong.”

“We both just enjoy pushing buttons too much to be particularly good at not pushing them, I guess.” Martyn sounds half-amused, half-resigned.

Grian makes an irritated noise. “Yes, alright, I don’t need another reminder of the whole button debacle.”

There is more silence.

After a while, Grian speaks again. “There’s something I was wondering about, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Martyn raises an eyebrow.

“What’s the reason?” He asks.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific with that one, mate.”

“‘This is a death match for a reason.’” He says matter-of-factly. “That’s what you said. So- what is it? What’s the reason?”

Martyn blinks, then lets out a short, harsh laugh. “You think I know that?”

“No, not really. That’s why I wondered what you meant when you said it.”

“It- look. I don’t know if you’re expecting philosophy from me, or something. It’s a death game. People die, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to be special, it doesn’t have to be honourable, it doesn’t have to be fair. That’s what I meant.” He frowns. “You know that.”

“I do.” He admits.

“Then why ask?” Martyn looks around as though this time, somehow, he might be able to find Grian’s face in the dark.

He doesn’t.

“I just-” Grian sighs. “What do you want?” He asks. “What do you actually want, Martyn?”

The question sits heavy in the darkness between them.

“What do you want me to say?” Martyn asks. He sounds more tired than Grian’s ever heard him.

“I want you to tell the truth.” Grian says. He needs to know. He needs to know.

“Now, Grian.” Says Martyn, voice gently chiding. “Have you met me? You know I can’t do that.”

“Pretend it’s a lie, then.”

Martyn’s grip on the banner he wears tightens, slightly. There is a long, long silence.

“Or how about,” Says Grian, eventually, “You say something, and I won’t know whether it’s a lie or not.”

There is another pause.

Martyn frowns at the red of the fabric in his hands, as though it might offer him something.

As far as Grian can tell, it does not.

He’s just beginning to give up hope of ever getting an answer when Martyn speaks, so softly he almost doesn’t hear it.

“I want it to be warm again.” He says.

It’s quiet.

For a moment – just a moment, no more – Grian remembers bloody, aching fists. He remembers burning heat.

“Well.” He says. “That makes one of us, then. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Says Martyn, voice low. “I guess it does.”

There’s another short second of silence before Martyn speaks again, sounding cheerful. “So, suppose I’ll see you in the next one, huh? If that ever happens.” He grins. “Wanna take bets on how hard Scott’ll have to try not to win it? I’m gonna go with very.”

Grian snorts. “I’m not taking that bet. That man is infuriatingly good at surviving.”

“You’re not wrong! You are not wrong.” He gestures into the void. “And don’t even get me started on Timmy’s whole thing, I think we both know how that one’s gonna go. Unless you want to bet against him being gone first next time round?”

“You’re not Scar.” Says Grian. “There’s no way you talk anyone into taking that bet in a million years. Except maybe Timmy.”

“Fair, fair.”

There’s a short pause.

Grian hesitates for a moment before he speaks – almost, but not quite, reluctant. “Why do you keep looking back?” He asks. “There’s nothing left for us there. You know that, right?”

“I mean, let me know when you find a better place to look.” He tilts his head to the side slightly, curious, and frowns. “Do you really never want to go back?”

“No.” Says Grian. “Never.”

Martyn opens his mouth, and then, uncharacteristically, closes it again. “Yeah.” He says. “Me neither.”

Grian is tempted, momentarily, to tell Martyn to take the banner off and let it go. Let the darkness take it. Prove it.

But just like Martyn, he lets it drop.

Mutually assured destruction is a potent thing.

Now all he has to do is the hard part. The part he’s dreading most of all.

The main concern is phrasing it correctly. Making it sound just how he wants it to sound.

After some thought, he thinks he’s found the words he's looking for.

He could always be wrong, though. He’s usually more one for incredible violence than smooth talking.

“Martyn?” He asks cautiously, casually. “Do you want me to help you?”

The expression that crosses Martyn’s face is unreadable.

He processes the question for a few moments, before he answers.

“Nah. I’m good.” He says, voice guarded. “Don’t worry about it.”

And that’s the rub, isn’t it.

Because now Grian has to decide whether he’s going to let Martyn lie to him or not.

Whether he’s going to pass the test that’s been set before him, or not.

...

Grian’s not a monster.

He’s just realistic.

There's nothing he could do, anyway.

“Well.” He says levelly. “Just let me know if that changes.”

(Martyn would do the same to him. It’s not a justification, or an excuse. But he knows it to be true.)

Martyn stares out into the darkness. His eyes are almost, but not quite, resentful. “Sure thing, man. Why wouldn’t I.”

It’s not said like a question, so Grian doesn’t answer it. “Well, you know I can’t stay here forever.”

“I do know that.”

“Any messages you want me to pass on to any of the hermits? I know you haven’t seen Mumbo in a while.” It’s not really a compromise, or a peace offering. Hopefully, however, it’s close enough to one or the other of those to act in their stead.

Martyn closes his eyes. Breathes in. Breathes out. Opens his eyes again. “If you were Grian, then maybe.” His gaze is cold. “But I think this hypothetical has gone on long enough.”

...It’s a lot easier for both of them, if Martyn believes that.

He’s positive Martyn knows that.

Just this once, perhaps he can manage to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

“For what it’s worth,” He says, looking away, “I moved on from the Bad Boys when it got too expensive to keep them alive.”

“It’s not worth a lot.” Says Martyn flatly. “And it would be worth even less coming from Grian.”

Grian sighs. “Alright. Fine. I’ll see you around, Martyn.”

“I know.” Says Martyn. He closes his eyes.

After a few moments, Grian does too.

When he opens them, he’s home.

…

Oh, that doesn’t feel good.

It really doesn't.

He could dwell on this. It wouldn’t be hard. He could drown himself in guilt over what he’s done, or not done, or will not do.

But- well.

Grian never really saw the point in letting someone else drag you down with them.

[lolli-popples]

I think it's funny how people often characterize c!Scott in particular as being in opposition to the horrors of the Life Series.

Usually because he's known for caring about his allies, so you'd reason he wouldn't want to be stuck in a neverending death game. Which is a valid interpretation. I've used that angle myself.

However, logically speaking, Scott would not be against a never-ending death game. Scott LOVES death games. He just prefers to play death games focused on social engineering. He needs to lie and manipulate and consider his options before he makes a strategy to kill people. Not just crazed killing.

I mean do you know how many Among Us videos that man has made? DO YOU KNOW???

HE'S MADE 89 OF THEM

[cj-the-random-artist]

I don’t know how I managed to do this in a day.  Like.  I think I pumped this out on pure adrenaline

But again.  If ur at the caption ya probably say the PSA spoiler wall that says that this comic contains spoilers for the Limited Life SMP finale.  Well and I’m tagging this as spoilers so it’d be evident anyways lol.  So I won’t write my spiel about go watch the end of Limited Life and I’ll just say oh my god what a finale it was absolutely epic.  I loved every moment of it.

But yeah.  I sketched this out as one of those “ahh silly goofy doodly sketchy sketchbook comics when I’m spewing a thought into my sketchbook” and then.  My impulsiveness (there’s a pun there.  Is it intentional?  That’s for you to decide) won in the end and this exists now.  It’s not the best quality of anything I’ve ever made but gosh darnit it was so much fun to make.  So so much fun.

But yeah.  Limited Life was absolutely amazing from start to finish and every POV was awesome (but if ya can’t tell team TIES is gonna live in my head rent free for a while lol)

That said.  Enjoy this silly little mini comic I made and have a good day :D

[zedif-y]

Joel wakes up screaming.

His first thought, honestly, isn’t very coherent. A mishmash of need more time and a throat-tearing scream escaping him as he opens his eyes to–

His scream dies down. Joel looks around– at least, he thinks he’s looking around. Hard to tell when it’s all pitch black and he can’t see a thing, is he sure his eyes are working–?

Joel brings a hand to his face, “Did I go blind– What the heck!”

His voice comes out shrill, a hair away from a shriek (because no, it wasn’t a shriek, it was all manly and stuff, thank you.) as his hand kind of– it kinda–

He knows where his head is. Obviously. Be a bit weird if he didn’t. He knows where his head is, and he knows where his hand is. Both are important. So when he reached towards his head, right, gotta see if there’s a cloth over his eyes, or if he’s gone blind or whatever stupid thing must’ve happened to him after… After he…

His thoughts go fuzzy for a second, like that feeling you get when you think you’ve forgotten something but can’t remember what. Like knowing the shape of something you’ve lost, its absence so pressing that it chokes you like sand, clogging your lungs with each second it's gone but what the heck is it–?!

Where was he, again?

Oh. Right. He was freaking out.

The point is– because there was a point, right before things got all weird there– his hand went through his head.

It… He doesn’t even know how to explain it. It felt like… Not much, really. Didn’t feel like anything. But that’s the issue with it, the issue of something should be there, like skin and muscle and bone and perhaps even a brain. But instead, Joel put his hand where his face should be and he felt nothing, no matter how hard he tried, how far he reached and pushed and–

Joel wants to scream. Or laugh. Or cry. Either of the three, though preferably not that last one.

It’s so weird. He just wants…

There it is again. That feeling. The clawing, desperate something in his chest that twists and writhes–

“Hey, Joel.”

Joel screams. (First option, then.)

Jimmy just stares at him, unimpressed. His sunglasses are blocking his eyes.

For some reason, it makes Joel want to cry.

Jimmy sighs, “Are you done?” Joel gapes at him.

Are you serious, “Am I d– What the heck, Jimmy?” He snaps, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, I’m not bloody Grian–”

Since when did Jimmy get so quiet, anyway?

“Of course you’re not Grian,” Jimmy says, his voice all weird. Off. “It’d be easier if you were. He’s already moved on.”

Joel’s hackles rise, “What d’you mean it’d be easier?” He snarls, like snapping teeth. “And he hasn’t moved on, he’s just–”

“Looking for new friends?” Jimmy deadpans. Joel’s jaw clicks shut. “ ‘s what I thought.”

Oh, Joel wants to punch him in the–

Wait a second.

It comes back to him then, slamming into him like a wave. The bubbling, helpless laughter in his chest as he leaps and runs across a flimsy dirt bridge. The way he knows he’s fallen before, fallen a million different times and came out both dead and alive but he doesn’t care.

("–you can't keep doing this–")

He doesn’t (didn’t) care, because why should he, he’s got– he’s got water. He’s got water, like everyone else on this blumin’ server, he’ll live, surely, so there’s no need to be scared.

("–got to let go, eventually, right–?")

No need to worry, even as yellow feathers plummet and disappear from view and lightning strikes where Jimmy’s voice cut off–

“Joel!” Jimmy shouts, practically right in his face. “Joel, are you even listening–?”

This, Joel decides, is not Jimmy.

It's got the shape of Jimmy, sure. Right hair and face and everything. Right voice, right bloody curve of his eyebrows, which makes Joel laugh, because it isn't him.

It can't be. It can't be, because Jimmy's dead. Jimmy's gone, he ran out of time because he fell like an idiot so no, this can't be him, there's no way.

On all levels except physical, Joel can't seem to breathe.

There's no way this is Jimmy, he thinks, just the right amount of hysterical. It's just not possible.

Because if this is him, (and that's a big, gigantic if) then that means– That means wherever he went, Joel followed. Joel followed, and now they're in the Void, or Limbo, or whatever the heck it's called, and that means that Joel–

Joel failed Grian, too.

"You're not Jimmy," He says at last, with his not-there tongue and not-there face. His voice sounds distant. "He'd be like, crying. Screamin' about dying first again, going oh my gosh!" Joel tells Not-Jimmy, pitching his voice up and then laughs, laughs, and laughs.

Until he can't breathe. Until it hurts to.

Until it's not much of a laugh at all.

Light shines on Not-Jimmy's sunglasses. He's still the only thing Joel can see.

Joel reaches out, pretending to see two, shaking hands grab Jimmy by the shoulders. He pretends, thinks about it hard enough that he almost feels the texture of Jimmy's denim under his palms. He thinks, imagines, pretends, whatever, that the fabric crinkles under his touch, that the sob that makes his way past his lips is a laugh as he says, "I'm sorry."

Something wet trickles down his not-there face.

" 'm sorry, Jim," Joel rasps out, and it hurts. "You weren't supposed to– I had a surprise for you, you know?"

Jimmy's voice is quiet, "What kind of surprise?" He asks, and Joel…

Joel thinks he might be falling apart.

(Or maybe, his mind supplies, he shattered a long while ago. Like glass hitting the floor.)

He grins, or at least, he tries to. "I was gonna break your curse," He confesses, with his terrible, trembling mouth. "I was gonna sacrifice myself for you, be all heroic and everything."

Jimmy says nothing. Joel still can't see his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He's getting tired of pretending.

"Will you come with me now?" Jimmy– Not-Jimmy says, his voice ringing like the toll of a bell. "You've said your piece, not many are afforded that luxury."

Joel blinks. Death stands before him, no sunglasses to cover empty sockets.

For a moment, Joel considers fighting. Again, and again, and again.

But he is so, very tired.

He sighs.

I don't feel very lucky, Joel wants to say. And you still aren't Jimmy. 

"Whatever," He says instead. He feels his entire being slip away like sand, like time held tightly between two fists. "Take me away, or whatever it is you do."

Joel closes his eyes, "I'll tell him when I see him."