#secret life jimmy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scribbling-dragon · 5 months

Note

For the hurt comfort prompts, maybe Jimmy comforting Lizzie over dying first? If you wanna add extra, maybe helping with some new feathers sprouting

caged fledgling

summary:

He wasn’t first, wasn’t the first here this time, so where is she? She is exactly where we want her “And that’s not ominous at all,” he mutters under his breath.

(ao3 link)

(1,971 words)

[these two were driving me mad, they kept joking around with each other and completely ruining the seriousness that i was going for ;-; had to rewrite it several times to get it to a place that i liked hdsjkhsjk AND! have an idea for a sillier follow-up to this fic rotating in my mind already (think, mumbo lizzie and jimmy sitting in a circle like u do at a sleepover)

anyway! hurt/comfort requests are still open if you fancy seeing anything <33]

The ground around him is shattered, chunks of dirt flying into the air as the wither fires off another barrage of skulls, sending people screaming and ducking for cover, and cover, any kind of shelter that would hope to shield them from its attacks.

He can feel his heart racing, beating in his chest like a caged bird desperate to escape.

He ignores the building cry in the back of his head, creeping in and weaving between his thoughts as he ducks again, feeling the brush of withering against his skin, watching the grass beneath his feet darken and shrivel rapidly. Can feel the rapid expansion of his lungs, never gaining enough to keep him steady on his feet.

He can almost feel his throat closing up, lungs beginning to refuse working. His chest spasms as he coughs, throwing himself into one of the pits the wither had already created. It scrapes along his arms, blood sluggishly beading to his skin as he hisses at the small sting.

He doesn’t care for the injuries, doesn’t care for the preservation of himself. His fate is already sealed, his cage already locked and the key tossed away, never to be seen again. The song rises over the rest of his thoughts, drowning out any logical thought he might have.

He’s not sure if his friends can hear it like he can, the rising pitch, building towards a crescendo that threatens – promises – to bring his victory crashing down around him once that peak is reached.

He lays low for another moment, allows himself a second longer of breathing, before throwing himself over the edge of the pit and sprinting as far and as fast as he can.

If he can make it to the mesa, if he can return to their house and their singular bed and their meagre supplies, then maybe, maybe, he can survive beyond the end of his song. Can live beyond the final warning that he’s tasked with crying out.

He doesn’t even see the warden. Only watches the ground darken in front of him, watches the sky fade from view, and feels the final moments of dread, the realisation that his fate will catch up to him, even if it’s late. Even if They had to spend the entire day playing catch up to condemn him once more.

The impact rattles his bones, the weight of sheer volume bearing down upon him and making his ears ring. Probably making them bleed too. He can hear nothing aside from the quickly building song, panicky and pitchy and not at all pleasant to listen to, and the ringing in his ears.

Maybe he could have pulled himself to his feet, away from the dirt pit he’s found himself in – a shallow grave, near to the actual grave that had been built for him in advance, even his friends lacking the faith that he would survive beyond the day – but he finds that he cannot summon the will to his limbs. Cannot gather the strength to push himself up and continue running.

Maybe his friends screamed out for him as he died, a perfect accompaniment to the abrupt end of his song.

He’s dragged back to the place where he would always end up. The point that they always circle back towards. The empty darkness and clinging water that doesn’t end no matter how far you walk, and the watching eyes that prefer not to give a response, no matter how often you pleaded for one

The setting he wakes up to is no less shattered than the one he just left.

He blinks a few times, uncertain that he’s in the right place, before he’s staggering abruptly to his feet, breath heavy in his chest as he whips his head around wildly.

The void around him is fractured, shattering and splitting into pieces. Lines run through the darkness, exposing the pale light of whatever lies beyond. He didn’t even know there was a beyond of this place. It was just a void, somewhere outside and inside of time, exactly where it needed to be for the dead and dying.

He watches as a crack widens, splitting open the darkness further with an ominous sound. A reverberating cry of pain follows soon after, descending into a low humming moments later, seemingly satisfied with whatever They have just managed to do.

He feels the eyes turn onto him, feels the weight of a thousand stares upon his back.

His wings flutter nervously, self-consciously tucking them closer to his back even though he knows it will do little to hide the bright yellow feathers.

You are defiant, Their voices tell him. We do not like this.

“Didn’t exactly ask for your opinion on it,” he scoffs.

He wasn’t first, wasn’t the first here this time, so where is she?

She is exactly where we want her

“And that’s not ominous at all,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t care that They’ll hear it anyway, giving a rude gesture in Their vague direction. Which is everywhere. “Where is she?”

Where we need her

A chunk of the void separates from the ‘ceiling’ of this place, crashing down into the water below it. He covers his face, ducking his head, as it summons a wave strong enough to unbalance him. He feels the water soaking into his feathers, making them hang heavy at his back.

“You know, even a vague location would be nice,” the place continues to crack around him, falling to pieces as he speaks. “Maybe I’ll even be the solution to whatever little problem you have here.”

You are the root of the problem. The bane of all existence, They hiss.

“What a way to make a guy feel wanted. Maybe I’ll just leave, then.” He makes to turn around, barely makes it a step before the water latches onto him.

You shall not leave

“Then what is it you want me to do?” The water quickly forms into shackles, keeping him rooted in place. “This is very obviously falling apart, and whatever you're trying to do is not working.”

They remain silent. He’s not sure if they're considering his words, or if they're simply giving him the silent treatment.

“You know I'm right,” he adds, after a moment. “You can admit it, it’s not a personal failing, I'm sure we can work through this-”

Your input is not necessary

“Well maybe neither is yours. Your voices are giving me a headache.”

You are insolent. And rude

“If I'm rude, then what are you? I've never made you fight in death games and kill your friends and betray everyone you-”

You are distracting Us

“Oh, I am so sorry,” he nods along in mocking sympathy, feels the fury of Their eyes grow. “Now, where is it that you're keeping my friend? I’d rather like to see her now.”

If it shall keep you quiet. She has not stopped her wailing since she came here

“Funny that,” he mutters, and almost inhales a lungful of water as his shackles pull him below the surface. He splutters as he’s spat back out, hunching over and trying to breathe again. His wings are truly sodden now, feathers sticking up at odd angles that make him shudder in disgust.

“Jimmy!”

He doesn’t even manage to regain his bearings before Lizzie is throwing herself at him and hugging him tight. It’s like she’s trying to squeeze the non-existent life out of him.

“Hey, Lizzie.” He pats her on the head, a little awkward with the angle. Her hair tickles his face, loose strands of it poking up, as though she’s been running her hands through her hair frequently. “Can’t believe you’d die before me, huh? Trust me, it was a surprise to all of us…”

He trails off as she looks up at him, eyes watering.

“This is horrible!” she all but wails. “How do you stand it if it’s like this every time!”

“I- what?”

“You! How do you stand this? Every single time, here, alone!”

“Don't think you're meant to remember that, Liz.”

“Well I remember it now! Because apparently I've got the same freaking curse as you!” A tear slips free of her eyes, trailing down her cheek slowly.

“Woah, it’s not all that bad. I got some perks out of it.”

“If you're about to convince me you can fly with those tiny wings I am going to hit you.”

“…I got no perks out of it?”

His voice trails off into a silence that lingers. It’s only made worse by the cracking sounds of the realm around them. It’s almost like pottery breaking, cracking apart more and more by the second.

“This sucks,” Lizzie says, a lot quieter than before and far from the almost upbeat bickering she’d seemed all too eager to start earlier. He can feel her shaking, slightly, her skin clammy and cold.

“Yeah,” he deflates a little, energy gradually being sapped away. “Yeah, it really does, huh.”

Lizzie sniffles, a quiet, tiny sound. It’s enough to make Jimmy start to stress a little- he can’t comfort crying people, he can’t comfort people full stop. He sits there, awkwardly, as he listens to Lizzie cry. The only thing he can think to do is wrap his arms a little tighter around her and hope that They don't choose to ruin the relative peace that has settled over their small corner of the crumbling apart world.

“I don't know if I can stand this,” Lizzie says. Her voice still sounds teary, and it breaks his heart, just a little, to hear her so sad.

“You're gonna have to,” he tells her. It’s not the most reassuring thing he could have said, but anything else would be a lie. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and forget about it as soon as you're out of here.”

“But you’ll still remember,” she protests.

“I’ve remembered just fine on my own every time before this.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Didn’t really think the omnipotent beings that toss us into death games for fun would be looking to make sure everything is fair.” He teases.

Lizzie laughs, then sniffles, then hits him. “Don't make me laugh, I'm trying to be sad for you.”

“And I'm trying to make things a little bit less depressing. It’s my job, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lizzie cocks an eyebrow at him, the effect only slightly ruined by red-rimmed eyes. “You get a contract to sign and everything? Terms and conditions?”

“And paid time off,” he agrees. “Wonderful job, dying bit sucks.”

Lizzie giggles at that, and he does too, finding it unreasonably funny. He’s sure They hate it, hate the levity of the moment when They're only looking for more suffering and agony to feast on. Something that he won’t be giving Them. Won’t be letting Them take.

“You're ridiculous,” Lizzie tells him.

“Made it this far, though, haven’t I?” He’s not sure how far he would have made it, whether he’d have ever made it out of the first endless void without allowing himself this small break. He doesn’t want Lizzie to remember this, doesn’t want her to remember the deaths of all their friends, having to pull them out the depths of the water and tell them they cannot return, that they’ve lost that last life and must remain here, in the darkness, until their other friends come to join them.

At least he has his voice this time, he muses, he’s not sure what he would have done if he were unable to comfort Lizzie.

They both jolt as another piece of the void crashes inwards. He feels the way Lizzie’s grip on him tightens, threatening to tear the fabric of his jacket, ignoring how he’s probably holding her just as tight in return.

He’ll take the small comforts.

#juno.writes #secret life smp #secret life smp spoilers #secret life spoilers #slsmp #secret life jimmy #secret life lizzie #jimmy solidarity #ldshadowlady #asks #neohood #traffic smp #trafficblr #traffic series #trafficfic

105 notes · View notes