#scott smajor Tumblr posts

  • sleepsart
    05.12.2021 - 30 minutes ago

    Empires!Scott reference!

    This might get long and I'm on mobile and don't know how to make a cut. Sorry in advance.

    Ok so, starting off this is a post-exile design, and I might make an exile design later on. Because he couldn't feel the cold despite having "hands covered in ice", Scott didn't notice (or didn't think anything of) the developing frostbite. In my designs, elves generally don't like shoes, so when he ran he didn't take any with him. He didn't bring like. Anything with him, to be fair, so no gloves or super warm clothes past general Rivendell-climate clothing. The frostbite ended up taking the toes on his right foot, his fingers, a bit of his mouth and nose, and about 3/4 of his ears. Frostbite and a combination of an infected injury from falling on one of the ice spikes resulted in the amputation of his left leg from a little below the knee down. He wears a mask in the shape of a deer skull for pride reasons. When he's ready to show his face again, he will, but he's taking some time.

    His horns are only about eighteen inches tall, which would be considered worryingly small if Scott wasn't already below average for his species. The average height for mountain elves (or Starborne) is closer to 11 feet tall, while Scott is nine foot eight.

    Scott has wings that he is able to conceal via magic! I have an explanation of Starborne wings in this post here, along with more headcanons!

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  • smajor-updates
    05.12.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Scott posted on his instagram story!

    [Image ID:

    A photo of an intricate set of large roads crossing over each other, with very large buildings surrounding them. Behind those buildings, a sprawling cityscape can be seen, bordered by mountains. In the bottom left of the image a 😍 emoji is overlaid.

    End ID]

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  • scribbling-dragon
    04.12.2021 - 2 hours ago

    The End


    For all things, even if they seem good or everlasting, must eventually come to an end.

    (AO3 Link)


    (5,025 words)

    (Note: This is the last part of this series, and there’s multiple deaths in this chapter, read at your own discretion. (In other notes, this had been wonderful to write, and I’m so glad you guys have read this all. Feel free to come scream at me in my asks about this))

    He buried Jimmy just after sunrise. The ground was still cold, frozen stiff with frost that he hadn't noticed creeping up during the night. The grass bristles nearby as he begins to nudge the dirt back into the hole he created, glistening with ice.

    He looks away as the first small pile spills into the gaping wound in the earth, heart wrenching a little as he stares towards their walls. His shoulders shake with the effort of remaining silent, and he knows that Pearl and Cleo are watching him. Still.

    They've been watching him since the fight, since just after the fight. He doesn't think either of them slept, and if they did, it was for nothing more than a few seconds.

    The grass gleams emerald in the slowly creeping sunrise, frost beginning to thaw and melt away. When he sits down, hands caked in mud, dirt trapped beneath his nails, it’s slightly wet. He pays it no mind, pressing a hand to the headstone and running it down the roughly hewn stone.

    He leaves a smear of dirt on the otherwise pristine surface, but he pays that no mind. Instead, he leans forward, resting his head against the cold stone and breathing out. He tries to imagine that he’s not here, not sitting on the wet grass with his head pressed against the cold rock of a headstone.

    He pretends, instead, that the land around him is filled with flowers, and the cold and lifeless headstone is Jimmy instead. He shifts his hands a little, and the grating feeling of stone beneath his hands shatters the fragile thought, completely dismantling it.

    His shoulders shake a little more as he digs his fingers into the stone, ignoring as they begin to ache, nails bending in a way they shouldn't, in a way that hurts. His wings shake behind him, feathers matted where the bindings had been pressed down so tightly he couldn't even get a nail beneath them.

    They spasm, every few seconds or so, muscles weakened and worn away with disuse. They're useless to him, and he’s sure they will be for a long time. He doubts he’ll last long enough to use them again.

    When his comm buzzes this time, filling the silent air with its tone, he almost expects the message that flashes on his screen. It’s red, and he can’t help but smile a little at it, even as a few more tears slip down his cheeks with the buzz that fills his head, chasing away the calm of the morning.

    This time, however, there’s no one to share the adrenaline with, no one to stand by and hold his hand as they watch their plans succeed. Instead, the voices buzz and clamour for his attention, and he remains sat on the wet grass, allowing it to soak into his trousers for a few minutes more.

    When he leaves the grave, the buzzing dies down to a hum, and Pearl and Cleo try to make it seem as though they weren't watching him. It’s not incredibly convincing, in all honesty. He trudges back towards the house, but he doesn't enter it, instead picking his axe up from where he had tossed it aside.

    He pointedly ignores the stained patch of grass a few feet away, beginning to wipe the dried blood off the blade. It stains his clothes instead, but he doesn't mind it, dropping his hand and brushing the blood off as best as he can.

    The soil on his hands is beginning to dry, cracking and falling off. He brushes some of it off. The door opens ahead of him, and he looks up, the axe suddenly feeling like a leaden weight in his hand as he meets Pearl’s eyes.

    He eyes are sad as she looks at him, and there’s some kind of understanding there too.

    “Again?” She asks, and he nods, looking away from her.

    “I won't come after you.” He promises. “Even if I fail to get anyone else.” He winces a little as he speaks, throat dry and scratchy. Pearl doesn't comment on it, and he internally thanks her for the small sign of kindness.

    “Good luck.” A hand lands on his shoulder, and he looks up, up and away from the dark, almost red, patch of grass just behind her. Her grip slackens for a second, before tightening, and then she’s pulling him into a hug, hands careful around his wings.

    He stands there for a few moments, shock freezing his lungs, hand still clasped around the handle of his axe. Pearl doesn't seem to care, simply holding him tighter, beginning to rub circles into his back.

    He folds into her embrace, axe dropping to the ground behind them with a heavy thunk as he wraps his arms around her again. He tries to swathe them both in his wings, swaddle them in feathers and hide this simple moment from the world around them, but they barely move, twitching a little as electrical spasms run up and down the wing.

    If Pearl notices, she doesn't comment.

    He’s not sure when he started crying - he’s not sure when he stopped, honestly - but his eyes are wet when he pulls away, and there’s a small, damp patch on her shirt when he looks. “Sorry.” He apologises, voice still raspy.

    Pearl ducks her head, her own eyes a little red-rimmed. “Don't worry.” She laughs, but it sounds watery, frail. “You obviously needed it.” She turns away from him, and he expects that to be it, but she turns back a few moments later, pressing his axe into her hands.

    “Be safe.” She releases his axe, taking a step back and watching him. But it isn't a look of fear, only one of concern. A look of concern for him. “Okay? Promise me you’ll come back?”

    “You know I can’t promise that.” He murmurs, but she continues to stare at him, and he sighs, shoulders sagging a little. “I promise.” He’s never been very good at keeping promises, but he’ll try, for Pearl. He’ll try for Pearl, even if all he wants is to see Jimmy again.

    He turns away from her, beginning the slow trek to their front gate. He hears the door creak again, and he doesn't have to look back to know that Cleo’s also watching him go, a muttered, hurried conversation starting up behind him.

    The gate creaks as he pushes through it, and he shuts it behind him. It’s useless, but he does it anyway, finding some comfort in the small action. Even if the enemy can scale their walls in a few seconds, it still provides a momentary sense of comfort as it clicks shut, latch falling into place.

    The twigs beneath his feet crackle and crunch, and the buzzing in his head crescendos into a roar, drowning out the sound of the world around him. He gasps a little, stumbling to the side, leaning against the tree, arm braced against the bark.

    The sound subsides again, almost as if in apology. And he’s able to straighten up, still clutching his axe as he continues his trek through the woods. The path beneath his feet is familiar, and it feels like mere seconds before he’s staring down at the dark oak fort beneath him.

    He slides into the shadows of the trees that surround it, moving quietly, stealthily through the undergrowth. Maybe they’ll all be home, it would be nice to get them all in one go. He only emerges from the woods right at the edge of the fort, slinging his axe over his back and digging his hands into the grooves of stone and wood.

    It would be useful, right now, if his wings were working. His silent prayer does nothing, and they remain limp and lifeless at his back as he climbs. Simply an extra weight holding him back.

    He peeks over the edge of the wall, staring at the still lit campfire in the centre, watching the trailing smoke drift into the sky. Three people stand around it, each holding something over the open flames, chatting amicably among themselves as they wait for their breakfast to cook.

    He scowls at them, pulling himself slowly over the edge, into the small walkway along the top. He makes sure to lay flat, inching across the ground towards one of the towers. Only once he’s inside does he dare to stand up straight, feathers fluffing as he glances around himself.

    He freezes, green eyes meeting red as he stares in silence. The other man stares back, seemingly as shocked as he is to see him here. He darts forward before he can even make a sound, pressing him back into the bed tucked in a corner.

    He presses a hand firmly across his mouth, ignoring the way his eyes go wide with fear, beginning to wriggle a little in his grip. He feels a little sorry for him, Mumbo had never been directly involved in the conflict, but he had always been there, simply watching as Jimmy was exiled and as he was killed, then killed again.

    He feels a little less sympathy for the man when he does stop struggling, breaths barely coming as he stares up at him, eyes slowly beginning to close-

    His comm buzzes and he takes a step back, watching as his body slumps to the floor at an awkward angle. He inhales sharply, the low buzzing drone at the back of his head completely vanishing as he stares at someone he just killed.

    He hears a shout from outside, hurriedly drawing his axe, fumbling it a little as feet begin to pound at the stairs below him, quickly making their way up to him.

    Martyn is first through the door, red eyes wild as he stares at him. He barely hesitates before he’s clashing with his sword, eyes glancing to the body behind him. He falters for a moment, eyes turning round and sad, before they steel again, red glimmering almost brighter, if that’s possible, and the pressure is back on.

    He shoves his backwards, hard enough for him to begin to flail a little, foot slipping over the edge of the steps. Impulse catches him, shoving him back up, deciding to join the fight. Grian’s a few footsteps behind him.

    His comm buzzes once, then twice, but he doesn't check it, doesn't have time, striking towards Martyn again as he’s the first to charge forward. His sword isn't raised properly, not held quite right, not quite high enough to block the glancing blow he gets at him.

    He staggers, clutching at his torn shirt and his bloodied skin beneath. He takes the moment of weakness, knocking him to the floor, holding him there with one foot.

    “Stop right now.” He says, and it’s loud enough to bring the whole room into stillness, despite being barely above a whisper. Grian and Impulse stare at him, eyes slightly wide, barely out of breath as his chest heaves. “You take one step towards me, and I’ll kill him, I- I swear I will.” His voice wavers a little, axe trembling in his grip as he holds it over Martyn.

    “You won't.” Grian states, grinning at him with all the false confidence of a fool. His comm buzzes again, and he hopes it’s simply a conversation going on, and not anything else. He knows he’s a fool to hope that.

    “I will.” He states, steadying his axe, pressing it to just below Martyn’s chin. “Do you want to test it?”

    “Go ahead.” Grian seems almost dismissive, leaning back on his feet a little, watching him with an empty look. “It’s not like he’ll last much longer anyway.” He almost falters then, at the cool dismissal from Grian, and the half-betrayed, half-expectant look Martyn throws his way, almost as though he expected this.

    He plunges his axe down, he makes sure to make it quick, looking away as the body beneath his feet doesn't dissipate, doesn't move away for the player to respawn again. He tries not to gag at the blood staining his clothes.

    “I'm a little surprised.” He doesn't sound surprised, and when he looks up Grian looks almost giddy. “Look at you,” he coos, “Trying to get revenge for something?” His grin twists into a smirk, “Or are you trying to prove a point?” He leans back on his sword a little, the sharp end digging into the wood, embedded too far in for him to react fast enough when he lunges.

    He’s left grasping for his sword when he embeds his axe in him this time, dying the same way he had last time. He steps over him, towards Impulse. The man shrinks back against the wall, watching him with wide, worried eyes.

    “I won’t attack you.” The man stutters out, eyes widening a little more with each slow, threatening step he takes forward. “I swear. Even if we’re the final two. I won't, promise.”

    “I don't care about your promises.” He snarls, and it bubbles in his throat, sounding so unlike him he almost flinches back. He doesn't, instead stalking forward, axe dragging along the floor a little as he lowers it. The threat is clear, and Impulse closes his eyes as he closes in.

    He leaves his axe embedded in the wall, instead pulling his comm out now that his small…situation, has been dealt with. He ignores the past four death messages, each of them his own, instead focusing on the numerous others.

    He can't help how wide his eyes get at the sight of it, looking over the absolute massacre on his screen. It would appear that the red lives atop Magic Mountain had turned on each other, leaving only Joel to emerge from the battlefield alive. Lizzie had fallen to Scar’s hands, and Joel had slain Scar only a few moments later.

    Someone had gone after Pearl and Cleo, he’s not sure who as there’s no name attached to the death message. A trap of some kind, he assumes, both of them falling from a great height. That put Cleo down to one, Pearl on three. The same as him.

    He scrolls past, finding Ren down to red too, joined by Etho, who had died two rather mundane deaths in all honesty.

    His comm buzzes again, and BigB’s death rings out in the silence, Cleo’s name painted in red next to it. She didn't take long to enact her revenge, and he doesn't blame her for it. It’s not like he hesitated very long either.

    He steps out of the tower, and the wind now howling around his head almost manages to wash the copper smell away.

    He’s halfway back down the wall when the arrow hits him, square between his wings. He flails, before dropping. His wings don't help him at all, and he’s only glad of the clean respawn, even when he shoots up in an empty and cold bed, all alone.

    It barely takes seconds before Pearl’s at his side, pressing a hand against his chest to push him back into the bed. “Breathe.” She commands, and he does, sucking it in slowly and carefully, following her exaggerated motions.

    “Thanks.” He rasps out, throat still awfully dry. She offers him a glass of water, and he takes it gratefully, sipping at it slowly. Her eyes are lime when he looks at her, and it shouldn't be such a startling change, but he can't help but stare.

    “Who got you?” He manages, setting aside the half-empty cup.

    “Don't know.” She shrugs, looking away, out the window. “Maybe don't try and go downstairs for a bit, m’kay?”

    “Yeah.” He sighs, leaning back a little bit. “I think I can do that.”

    The room remains silent for a long while, Pearl clambers into the bed beside him, and he should probably feel more saddened by her filling the spot beside him, but he can’t help but enjoy the company, pulling his friend closer until he can drape a wing over her in the way he couldn't with-

    He cuts himself off with a stuttering breath, and his comm buzzes a few seconds later, almost as though it's a distraction.

    He grimaces, and Pearl winces, looking at the screen over his shoulder. Both of them feeling a little bit of sympathy at the way he died.

    “What a horrible way to go.” Pearl murmurs, and he hums a little, nodding in agreement as he turns his comm off. It buzzes again as he does so, screen lighting up with yet another death message. It’s Etho this time.

    He can feel death looming over his shoulder, and he’s rather certain Pearl does too, as she pulls away, watching him. “I think we should probably head out.” She manages, after a minute or two of staring. He nods in agreement, pulling himself up beside her.

    His wings stretch and flex behind him, some strength returned to the limbs. Possibly by respawn, he’s not going to question the new advantage he has. Doing that would simply test his luck, and he’s rather certain he’s pushed that to it’s boundaries today.

    Pearl leaves the room behind him silently, not bothering to shut the door. He opens the window instead, gliding down to the ground below, not feeling the same exhilaration he normally would while flying.

    He collects a fallen trident off the ground, enchantments carved in a familiar style of writing that he has to tear his eyes away from. Loyalty and channeling. He holds it tightly, leaving their walls before Pearl can come out the door behind him.

    He’d rather not see her again. Not if it meant them meeting on a battlefield.

    Later, as he stares down at three messages on his comm, muddled by the ones in between, he almost wishes he hadn't wished for that.

    He holds the trident in a slack grip now, the prongs of it slicked with so much blood that he can barely see the rippling of enchantment beneath it. Ren lies a few paces away, and he stands, yellow among it all, before all impossibility, and stares at the names on the screen, ones that are already beginning to blur before his eyes.

    He doesn't feel his death when it does come, but he’s glad he doesn't wake up in his bed again, another life still waiting to pulse in his heart.

    Instead, he stands in a flower field. One that stretches on for eons and eons around him. There’s a small rustle, then something- no, someone, pops their head out from beneath the blooming buds.

    Jimmy grins at him, eyes sparkling a brown he’s never seen on him before, only green, or yellow, or red, in those very last moments his eyes were red. But here, they're a deep brown, and he’s grinning at him.

    He steps forward, and the illusion around him disappears into smoke, leaving him in a void. He feels as though he’s floating, but his stomach has dropped through the floor, and he remains staring at the place where Jimmy had been standing moments before.

    He doesn't even get the pretense of an afterlife this time, not even enough of one for him to get truly and properly attached before they ripped it away from him again.

    He feels something in his hand, and he looks down as the silence around him condenses into the buzzing of a hundred whispers. It’s a poppy, slightly crumpled, but still one all the same. He holds onto the wilting flower even tighter as the buzzing condenses again, forming actual words this time.

    No one appears to accompany them, but he listens anyway.

    I see the being you mean.


    Yes. Take care. He has reached the Beyond, now. He can hear our thoughts.

    That doesn't matter. He thinks we are part of the game They began.

    I like this being. He played well. He did not give up.

    He is hearing our thoughts as though they were words among a Void.

    That is how he chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the clasp of Them.

    Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the game.

    They used to hear voices. Before they joined us, they dreamed before they joined us, though they did not join us last time.

    What did this one dream?

    This one dreamed of flowers and fields. Of sweet smiles and blonde hair. He dreamed he was reunited. And he dreamed that he loved. He dreamed that he loved, and was loved. He dreamed of home.

    Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this one create, in the reality behind the world?

    He worked, with seventeen others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the ⚍リ╎⍊ᒷ∷ᓭᒷ, and created a ⍑𝙹ᒲᒷ for ᓭ𝙹ꖎ╎↸ᔑ∷╎ℸ ̣ ||, in the ᓵ⍑ᔑ𝙹ᓭ.

    He cannot understand those words.

    No. He has not yet achieved the highest level. That, he must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

    Does he know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

    Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, he hears the universe, yes. But They have not taught him well, They have not taught him at all.

    Yes, there are times he is sad, in the long dream. He creates worlds that have no summer, and he shivers under an eternal winter, and he takes this sad creation for reality.

    To cure him of sorrow would destroy him. The sorrow is part of his own private task. We cannot interfere.

    Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

    He hears our thoughts.

    Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely ᓭᒲᔑꖎꖎ and ᒷリᓵꖎ𝙹ᓭᒷ↸, I wish to tell them that they are ꖎ𝙹⍊ᒷ↸ in the ⚍リ╎⍊ᒷ∷ᓭᒷ. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

    And yet they play the game.

    But it would be so easy to tell them...

    Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

    I will not tell the being how to live.

    The being is growing restless.

    I will tell the being a story.

    But not the truth.

    No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

    Give it a body, again.

    Yes. being...

    Use its name.

    Smajor. Winner of Their games.


    Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

    Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extra-terrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

    We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, being. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

    Once upon a time, there was a being, a creature- a person.

    The being was you, Smajor.

    Sometimes he thought of himself as human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than him. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

    Sometimes the being dreamed he was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

    Sometimes the being dreamed he was lost in a story.

    Sometimes the being dreamed he was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the being woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

    Sometimes the being dreamed he listened to words he cannot see the speakers of.

    Let's go back.

    The being was created from nothing but stardust, shaped by a hand so gentle and caring that you truly cannot ever forget its touch.

    And the being awoke, from the darkness of the Void, into a world he did not yet understand.

    And the being was a new story, never told before, written in lines and lines of code. And the being was a new program, never run before, generated by a source code a billion years old. And the being was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but stars and darkness.

    You are the being. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but stars and darkness.

    Let's go further back.

    The billions and billions of lines of code were created by Them. Those that came Before, that came from Beyond. And They created and They destroyed. But They became bored, became idle, so they turned to the being. They selected the being, and They selected others. They selected those that wouldn't be missed, They selected those who had nothing before, and have nothing after

    These beings are something beyond your comprehension, They're almost something beyond mine, They're-

    Shush. Allow Them some secrets, as little as They deserve them. Sometimes, the being wondered if there was a point to the pain and the blood so easily shed. But then he remembered those that he did it for, that warm smile and those soft eyes that he couldn't help but love. He would remember poppies and fields of flowers, and he would feel nothing but grief and happiness for what he had experienced.

    You are the being, hearing words...

    Shush... Sometimes the being read lines of an ancient language in a book. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the being started to breathe faster and deeper and realised he was alive, he was alive, those three deaths had not been real, the being was alive

    You. You. You are alive.

    And sometimes the being believed the universe had spoken to him through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees.

    And sometimes the being believed the universe had spoken to him through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the being's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the being, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

    And sometimes the being believed the universe had spoken to him through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

    And the universe said I love you

    And the universe said you have played Their game well

    And the universe said everything you need is within you

    And the universe said you are stronger than you know

    And the universe said you are the daylight

    And the universe said you are the night

    And the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

    And the universe said the light you seek is within you

    And the universe said you are not alone

    And the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

    And the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

    And the universe said I love you because you are love.

    And the game was over and the being woke up from the dream. And the being began a new dream. And the being dreamed again, dreamed better. And the being was the universe. And the being was love.

    You are the being. You are the being that won against all odds, the one that won against Them.

    Wake up.

    The snow around him is cold as he opens his eyes, and he can't help but blink a little at the blinding light around him. He feels oddly light yet heavy at the same time, an odd blankness invading his mind as he lies there, staring towards a cloudless sky.

    He’s on his feet a second later, brushing snow from his clothes and glancing around, righting the crown on his head and hoping none of the elves nearby had seen him. It would be improper for their king to be found laying in the snow.

    He has a feeling he’s missing something, that he should be waiting for something to miraculously appear in front of him. He hesitates, for just a second, but nothing appears. He’s not surprised by that. Rivendell’s all alone on her icy peak, and he has a sneaking suspicion that whatever he’s waiting for will not appear for another thousand years.

    That’s fine. He’s good at waiting. Elves have forever to wait, after all.

    He turns back to the village, and his boots are the only sound as they crunch through the snow. Behind him, crushed and forgotten, lies a singular poppy, its petals crinkled.

    He wouldn't understand it anyway.

    #reblogs help more than likes btw <3 #juno.writes #last life #last life fic #scott smajor#flower husbands#la(falt) series #this one kicks you whilst your down #sorry lmao
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  • smajor-updates
    04.12.2021 - 3 hours ago

    Elaina posted a photo with Scott on her twitter and instagram!

    [Image ID:

    There are 2 images.

    The first is a selfie of Scott and Elaina. They are both wearing masks and have their heads leaning against each other.

    The second is the same as the first, except with a warm colour filter over it.

    End ID]

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  • smajor-updates
    04.12.2021 - 3 hours ago

    Scott replied to Austin on twitter!

    [Image ID:

    A cropped screenshot of a tweet by Austin Show @/MrAustinShow with a reply by Scott Smajor @/Smajor1995.

    Austin’s tweet reads “I am currently having sex with @/emmalangevin”.

    Scott’s reply reads “Austin, I don’t think you’re doing the whole gay thing right”.

    End ID]

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  • smajor-updates
    04.12.2021 - 3 hours ago

    Scott replied to Courage and Seapeekay on twitter!

    [Image ID:

    A cropped screenshot of a tweet by Jack “CouRage” Dunlop @/CouRageJD with a reply by Seapeekay @/Seapeekay and Scott Smajor @/Smajor1995.

    Courage’s tweet reads “I’m in Vegas with @/MrBeast. We want 8 other YouTubers to play a $100,000 buy-in game of poker tomorrow. What YouTubers are down?”

    CPK’s reply reads “@/Smajor1995”.

    Scott’s reply reads “You gonna give me the $100k or something? 🤔”.

    End ID]

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  • smajor-updates
    04.12.2021 - 3 hours ago

    Scott posted on instagram!

    [Image ID:

    There are 4 images.

    The first is a photo of Scott and Plushys on a balcony overlooking Las Vegas.

    The second is a photo of Scott and Hafu on a couch.

    The third is a photo of Scott and Chocobars on the same couch as the photo with Hafu.

    The fourth is a cropped screenshot of an instagram caption by smajor1995. It reads “3 of the sweetest humans ever 🥰”.

    End ID]

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  • dead-inside-demiboy
    04.12.2021 - 5 hours ago

    Really bad 3L/LL series idea but like what if they just get the most outwardly overdramatic members of all of the smps, like Wilbur and Tommy (dsmp), Ren (Hc), Martin (3L), Scott and Joey (Empires), Beau (osmp), etc, and just put all of them in the 3rd life universe but smaller and see what happens. Bonus points if basic resources are incredibly limited as well like trees.

    Just make it like, a bonus spinoff 3rd life episode not related to any of the seasons and instead give them all 2 lives to make it go by faster. Then instead of a bunch of Friday sessions, it is just one session and none of them are allowed to leave until only one person is left standing. Keep the boogeyman, but it resets every hour and a half or so, the server is on hard mode.

    I just think it would be REALLY funny to see what chaos would come from it.

    #jaxon speaks #last life smp #3rd life smp #hermitcraft x dsmp #inthelittlewood#wilbur soot#scott smajor#tommyinnit#renthedog
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  • silencer-lemonade
    04.12.2021 - 5 hours ago
    " Not a good time to lose control / Right as your marionettes cut their strings and run away
    You're out of time, make your move / Live or die while the fuse is lit and there's no turning back " — Guns for Hire
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  • pinkflames
    04.12.2021 - 5 hours ago

    I love Scott and lizzie's development through the smps like-

    Enemies to partners-in-crime to in-laws that try to scam each other

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  • thetomorrowshow
    04.12.2021 - 5 hours ago

    hey everybody i put flower husbands into a fanfic generator and im crying over this

    “Scott was all set to give Jimmy a glare, but it faded away when He got his first real look at Jimmy.I mean sure, Scott had seen Jimmy before, but not REALLY seen them. Not with these new eyes which Scott now had. His eyes had been opened.

    Jimmy's manly chest. 

    His pretty neck. 

    His uncontrollable eyebrows.

    In point of fact, Scotts mouth went a little slack and there may have been some drool.

    It dripped on Jimmy. 

    Jimmy didn't seem to mind Scotts fluids though.”


    #flower husbands#empires smp #3rd life smp #mcyt #im. please #HIS UNCONTROLLABLE EYEBROWS #scott smajor#jimmy solidarity #is this nsfw??? #i dont think quite #minecraft stuff
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  • smajor-updates
    04.12.2021 - 5 hours ago

    Scott posted a Lat Life Best Of Compilation!


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  • violetpunk666
    04.12.2021 - 6 hours ago

    Colder by the minute

    [inspired by this post] title from the frozen Broadway musical

    Pearl: Scott- Why are you- I'm not the boogey i swear! [since when did Scott sprout wings?]
    Scott: Wha-? Pearl please, just stay away from me! I don't wanna hurt you!
    Pearl: What?
    *pearl stops in her tracks, dumbfounded*
    are- are you the boogey? [no that's stupid question Pearl, Scott would tell you if he was the boogeyman]
    Scott had stopped running too, he stood roughly 40ft away, arms wrapped tightly around himself, hyperventilating
    Pearl was finally able to get a good look at Scott. Or rather, as good as your gonna get from 40ft away in the middle of a blizzard.
    Most obvious were the large feathery wings sprouting from his back, pearl had been able to see these even as Scott was running, and he had even picked up off the ground slightly a few times.
    Then there was the lack of the mysterious little glimmers that always seemed to dance around his head creating a sort of halo, in there place stood a pair of majestic golden antlers branching out from his skull. Pearl wondered how she hadn't noticed them before.
    He still had his bracelets of course. But instead of glowing, a signal of the lives he had left, they were pure gold.
    and then there were his eyes, despite the distance and rapidly increasing snowfall, pearl could clearly see his eyes weren't green... nor yellow... nor red. Instead They glowed a bright icey aqua, terrified.
    #moving this over to its own post cause reblogs dont show up in tumblr searches and its annoying #Bubbles writes#somehow #despite not at all being a writer asdfghjkl #bubbles also doesn't really proofread #so hopefully this is coherent asdfghjkl #last life #last life x empires smp crossover #last life fanfic #empires fanfic#empires scott #last life pearl #scott smajor#pearlescent moon #i took some creative liberties and inserted a few of my headcanons asdfghjkl #I also have a small spark of an idea for empires joel and lizzie in last life with ren #maybe ill flesh that out and write it at some point #empires smp#empires oneshots #last life oneshots #trafficblr#empiresblr #extra little tidbits: #if it weren’t for the distance Pearl would notice that Scott is quite a bit taller then usual #and in turn #if she we’re closer and Scott wasn’t mid panic attack #he would notice that she was quite a bit shorter then usual #she could still lift the whole wither rose trio with one hand tho asdfghjkl #last life Scott has elven ears so Pearl wouldn’t notice anything different with those #bubbles ramblings
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  • manlet-rights-activist
    04.12.2021 - 7 hours ago

    currently thinking about when scott smajor quoted legally blonde to ranboo and he didnt catch on and scott was like "its from a big pop culture movie" and ranboo was like "you would know a lot about pop culture huh" and scott was like "yeah because im gay" and ranboo spent the next like minute and a half saying "no like you explode like pop in the literal sense because ur origin u explode" mans was fighting for his fucking life against the homophobic allegations.

    scott smajor you should trick people into being homophobic more often i love it when u do that shit. im in love with you.

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  • lilieboo
    04.12.2021 - 12 hours ago

    scott, you’re home! i’ve missed you!

    (reference photo under the cut)

    hug hUG HUG !!!

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  • founded-on-procrastination
    04.12.2021 - 18 hours ago

    Silver White Winters Melt into Springs, by Honor Song ||

    "I have an idea!"

    "Is it a good one?"

    "We could pretend to date!"

    "Ah, so the answer is no, then."

    "It can't really be that hard!"

    "It really could be."

    "And then everyone would think we're on good terms no matter how much we fight!"


    "I hate that you're right."

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