adastralis
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Summary
"Contemplating the flower in his ashy, numbing fingers, the analogy had never seemed more apt. Bdubs was prickly. Annoying, impractical to be sure, but able to grow in the cracks between cold, sharp stones, digging in with grasping roots. A wither rose, but not a withered one.
And still. So, so fragile."
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Etho thinks too much. Grian feels too little. -
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"Scott shouldn’t still be waking up expecting Jimmy to be alive.
It was a shame: he’d almost been able to stop dreaming about him. Almost been able to forget that smile, that damned soft, stupid smile."
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Scott gets a second chance. -
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"Scott wore no armor, had no weapon — he looked so… vulnerable. Then again, he could afford to be, now. They were the only two left and, after the week they spent hiding shroomlights under carpets, there wasn’t a single block where mobs could spawn. Nothing could hurt them."
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Jimmy and Scott are the final two survivors, living out the retirement they dreamed of. They’re safe now. Nothing can hurt them. It’s fine. Everything is fine.