Can I PLEASE Write Some Fanfiction For This I BEG You On My KNEES

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP FELLAS IF YOU DONT VOTE FOR JOE HILLS I HAVE TABLE FULL OF TORTURE DEVICES AND THEY WILL BE USED /j

JUST VOTE HIM PLEASE

holy shit

there is something so chilling about how many times someone screamed “I need the time back!” or “I need 30 minutes back!” while going for a kill. they’re all determined to get a kill now, but what about when their timer runs out? how many people are going to run out of time mid chase? how many people are going to yell “I need more time!” and just. die right in the middle of yelling it? when do they start turning on each other in order to survive?

when does “I need time!” become something screamed in pure desperation, pure agony as they all become relentless, ruthless in their killing in a need to survive?

“Do you have a clock yet?” Impulse asked.

It was a warm day, the bright sunlight sweetened by the gentle breeze off the sea. Everything was new, the next chapter in the life series, and yet, some things stayed the same.

Bdubs searched his inventory. “I don’t, actually, no!”

Tango made some joke about not being able to sleep away the night here, and under that cover of laughter and jokes, Impulse stole down to the rudimentary hole he, Tango, Skizz, and Etho were calling home. Perhaps it was a little silly, to use resources so frivolously like this, but Impulse didn’t care.

Every time Impulse made a clock, he was always surprised how easy the recipe really was. Some redstone, a bit of gold. It felt almost juvenile that such a simple thing held so much weight and history within it.

When the clock was finished, Impulse flipped open the lid and picked up a small knife someone had left around- probably Etho- and began scratching letters into the golden surface.

“Well, I better be off, I’m sure Scar and Cleo are missing me.” Impulse heard Bdubs say from above. He snapped the clock closed, panicked, and raced back up to the surface.

“Wait, Bdubs!” He thrust the clock into Bdubs’ hands. “For you. For old times sake, huh? And maybe a bit of a bribe to not target me.” Impulse laughed, and Bdubs smiled down at the clock.

“Oh, thank you, Impulse!” Bdubs replied, putting it in his off-hand. “For old time’s sake.”

——

“Listen, Bdubs, I have something for you.” Cleo said. It was, if Cleo had to guess, the last day the Clockers would be alive. They were all rushing around, gathering materials and weapons. “You don’t happen to have a clock, do you?”

“Uhh…” Bdubs dug in his pockets for a moment. “I do! Impulse gave it to me way back on the first day!”

“Of course he did.” Cleo muttered, rolling her eyes slightly. “Listen, we can give you a better one. Give it to me.”

Bdubs handed it over, and Cleo went down to their family anvil, ignoring Scar’s babbling.

It was a standard clock, she saw as she looked down at it properly, with a golden lid with a window to the top half of the clock- if you were in a rush, the top was all you needed to tell the time. Cleo took out her tools, and popped the lid, intending to carve something into the back side of the clock lid. It clicked open, revealing the simple sun and moon that told the time, and the scratchings that were already cut into the back of the lid.

For my soulmate -i

“Oh, Impulse.” Cleo murmured softly. She ran her thumb across the letters, tracing each one like she knew Impulse would have wanted someone else to do.

It was so painfully Impulse. Despite some mistakes in his past, he was sweet and kind and loving. And a bit of a bastard, but that was besides the point- weren’t they all. The clock was a given- of course it had been Impulse to give Bdubs a clock. It wasn’t hard to see how much Impulse adored him. And the inscription… Cleo sighed. There was no way that Bdubs had seen it. She brushed away the metal dust that marred the letters slightly; Impulse had probably been in a hurry and hasn’t had time to brush them off yet. Bdubs wouldn’t have let it sit in his pocket like that if he’d known… or maybe he would have. Bdubs was surprisingly unreadable sometimes.

She closed the lid gently, and flipped the clock over onto its back. There she carved out her own message for Bdubs.

mamma’s favourite boy

She buffed her carving with a cloth that looked like it had come from Scar’s shirt, until the gold shined. It wasn’t really about who loved Bdubs more- there’s more then one way to love a person, and no one was adored the way Bdubs was. He would carry two peoples love with him today. Even if he didn’t know it.

Yesssssss! I’m so happy he’s finally getting the attention he DESERVESSSSS

Watch skizzleman<3333333

slovenia???????

look at your phone lock screen. that's your reason to keep goin

Beloved <3 You did NOT have to apologize my guy

ren…

DONT FORGET ABT IMPULSE YOU—

HE WAS LEADING THE BLOODY RESISTANCE

ITS ALL CONNECTED

I just realized that with Sausage passing his crown to Cleo at the end of the crossover, Hermitcraft’s Crastle now shares its owners with the original 3rd Life Crastle…

Bdubs as its architect and Cleo as its ruler… it just feels right, doesn’t it?

I’m already waiting for someone to draw Skizzs final death scene (when Etho killed him) mirroring Rens death in 3rd Life. So Martyn is Etho and Ren is Skizz

Unfortunately I can’t draw, so PLEASE someone else do this

Doc and Grian’s dynamic is that Grian is Doc’s greatest nemesis, but Doc is not Grian’s nemesis.

Do you get me?

she gives you a wooden sword and says she wants your head, what do you do?