Chapter Text
The loud squelch of netherite boots trudging through wet dirt echoed throughout the plains, carried by the wind to untouched wilderness that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Perhaps to the unfamiliar mountains peaking just over the horizon, or through the oak trees lining its base, or maybe even kicking it up towards the fat gray clouds above.
But Sharpness honestly couldn't care less where it went.
Even the wind rustling his meticulously-styled-and-cared-for hair went unnoticed when, normally, he'd be scrambling to make sure every strand was as smooth and clean as royal silk.
Well, not-so meticulously-styled-and-cared-for right now, considering the thick layer of stone dust, clumps of slime, and dirt stubbornly clinging onto every inch of his body.
Now all he cared about was finding the fastest route back to spawn.
Just a few moments ago, he'd clawed his way out of the endless labyrinth that was the cave he'd spent hours mining for redstone and iron and whatever other ores a certain rabbit-hybrid-trapper-bitch forced him to gather.
"You use my base more than me, might as well contribute. Consider it payback. For—hmm, I don't know—everything you owe me." Jude said, magenta eyes twinkling as he leaned on a nearby lectern.
From the almost eager twitch of his ears, it was clear he was thrumming with excitement.
For what, Sharp had a vague idea. He was mid-trade, the villager still retrieving its mending book from storage, when Jude had jumped out of no where, pestering him to go do errands of all things. Seems time away had weakened his Jude-dar.
So, he said no.
"C'mon, I'm letting you off easy! Think of it like a trade. Just a few shulkers of iron, slime, stone and redstone, for trading with my villagers. Using my shit all the time, actually. It's not like I'm asking you to go off to an Ancient City again." He cocked his head to the side, ears falling over his face like curtains, “Oh, and honey.”
He leaned further into the lectern, watching as Sharp retrieved the book without even twitching, ears drooping slightly.
Ears that drooped further when Sharp paid him no mind, stride not even stuttering as he walked completely past him, an almost comical frown worming its way onto Jude's face.
A very obvious attempt to guilt the swordmaster.
But he wasn't falling for it this time.
"Sharp. Shaarrrp? Sharp. Hey, are you ignoring me?"
Yes, Sharp was ignoring him.
Why?
Because he wasn't in the mood to be cramped into a one-by-one hole with hundreds of armor stands suffocating him to death. Or dying and losing all his shit in general.
He hadn't even finished fully enchanting this set of armor he had on right now. His last set, since the others were lost to the last errand involving Ancient Cities, mind you.
So gods forbid it breaks thanks to somebody's bullshit traps.
And Jude was only ever this insistent when he had something up his sleeve.
"Hello? Earth to Dullness? Anyone in there?" Ever persistent, Jude followed him around their base, poking him in the shoulder repeatedly.
"Still pissed about that?" He mused, probably remembering the skulk sensor saga he'd sent Sharp on, "You chose to do it for me. And you already had a nice long skulk about it for a week so c'mon. Fuck, that was a shit joke.”
There it is! Rubbing the salt in even more. This...this selfish, little—!
All Jude ever cares about is himself and his stupid redstone. He just sees Sharp in their his base and immediately assumes he can immediately be sent off!
He knew Sharp wasn't exactly the type to grind for his own resources, just the bare minimum for his kit (and most of the time he ends up intimidating other players to get him things), nonetheless someone else.
Someone like Judelow, with his annoying ability to weasel through the cracks in Sharp's armor and find weaknesses the swordsmaster didn't even know he had.
How and why he even bothers to agree to do things for him is just…actually, he doesn't even know why he does, only that he's sick of it.
So Sharp kept his head held high, arms crossed, turning the other cheek.
He ignored Jude's constant poking and prodding as they walked through the hallway. He ignored the….silly feeling growing in his gut. Silly in a weird, almost warm way. Like butterflies flitting about, and warm like a well-kept campfire in winter or a hearty stew.
He was quite fond of stews, especially the ones Jude would make for them when he was feeling like being less of a bitch (meaning rarely).
Sharp is quite fond of Jude when he wasn't being a bitch to him.
But even when he's been trapped for the eighteenth time in a row, he still finds that that fondess never really goes away, clinging to him like slime and honey.
Eventually, growing sick of the lack of attention probably, Jude built up the nerve to mess with his hair, pulling on it and ruining the flawless balance of messy and neat that he had toiled in the early hours of the morning to perfect.
"Sharp, this is my base. I can follow you around as much as I want." Jude laughed as he barely dodged Sharp's sword, the blade nicking his arm in one smooth arch. A long, thin, crimson line appeared across Jude's wrist immediately after the sword was returned back to its scabbard.
Unsurprisingly, Jude wasn't at all peeved. In fact, he seemed almost pleased to finally get a response. Emboldened him even.
"I know you wanna! Don't think I can't see thise invis potions strapped to your side," His mouth split into a wide grin, a look Sharp was all too familiar with seeing from the bottom of steep pits, "You would've drank it if you really didn't want to. Just admit it, Sharp. You like it."
Sharp played deaf. He didn't hear anything, epecially that "Stubborn fuck..." murmured after a long pause.
"Okay, I'll give you..one golden apple." Somehow catching his almost unnoticeable eye roll, Jude added, "What about a stack? Six? Maybe sev…eeeerallll stacks?"
Eliciting only a stone-cold face, Jude actually pouted, his ears pointing flat and straight atop his head like an actual rabbit's would when upset.
"Sharp, c'mon. I won't..trap you? Is that it? Hey! I was talking to you! You're being such a dick bro, get back here."
What brought on this sudden bout of clinginess, anyway? Normally, Jude would rather die act like..whatever he was doing right now.
And, normally, Sharp would be the one doing the chasing.
"Sharp. Sharrrrppppp. Sharp, Sharp-p-p, Sharp! Sharpness. Stop ignoring me. I could 'accidentally' step on a pressure plate and you'd be dead."
Jude was bluffing. He had to be. Sharp knew where all his traps were, thanks to personal experience. They aren't standing on one. He thinks.
"Come on…please."
Now that was something. A 'please' from Jude came every once in a blue moon. What was truly rare was an actual sincere 'please' that didn't have an underlying tone of 'I-can't-believe-I-have-to-resort-to-this'.
Sharp might not be, well, the sharpest, but even he could see how this little "errand" obviously involved some kind of trap.
"Wow, okay." Jude dropped the act almost immediately, "Fine. Just go out and get these for me, if you want me to be up front about it. Asshole."
Jude tried handing him a list, which Sharp dodged, speeding up his pace in an attempt to make his way to the nearest anvil.
But not so fast as to actually outpace the other man. Not for any reason in particular.
He'd almost reached his destination, when Jude's outstretched arm blocked his path.
For a long moment, they both stared at each other, unblinking— waiting.
Sharpness schooled his face into neutrality, knowing any sign of weakness would be enough for Jude to win this little match of theirs.
Then, the air of pride that the rabbit constantly exuded yielded to something softer. It seemed as though Jude had lost their silent contest, something that almost never happened.
Sharp felt his chest swell with something… warm, maybe pride.
Jude looked up at him, their eyes meeting for a brief second. That feeling of warmth cocooning his heart blossomed out like butterflies at the contact.
Sharp hesitated, wrangling those butterflies back into their cocoons, steeling himself. Jude should know better than trying to guilt him into conceding.
He’d just won! No fucking way would change his mind now.
"Well, I tried…" Jude murmured, looking away, "I'll just ask someone else, then. Maybe—"
…It was almost embarrassing how fast Sharp snatched that stupid list out of Jude's hands. All that effort lost to something so petty!
There was definitely something fishy going on. He just didn't know what exactly Jude had up his sleeve or when exactly it would be played. Was it while he was out in the middle of nowhere, or was it when he got back?
Either way, he really needs to make it clear to Jude that he couldn’t just keep forcing him to do his chores. He wasn’t Jude’s personal maid, for fuck’s sake.
Sharp found his boots landing heavier on the wet soil, mud splattering all over them.
Grace wasn’t at the forefront of his right now. Strangling a rabbit to death if any bullshit's pulled, though, is.He took a deep breath, the smell of fresh rain thick in the air.
…Maybe it was a good thing that he was out here, reconnecting with nature and what not, as Saps would try tell him. The view was quite breathtaking, he will admit.
Days like these, slow and serene after a long, long day, where he was far from the deathtrap that is spawn, were something he likes to cherish. Just not right now, given that his arms, legs, and basically everything, hurt like hell from cramming himself into tunnels and mining veins for hours.
Beautiful terrain did make Sharp feel much better about looking and feeling like shit; moving felt like wading through tar, especially with the shulkers chock full of ores and sticky honey blocks in his inventory.
Pulling his fleeting attention towards it like a magnet, a small bunny skittered by. He stopped, watching it vanish off into a burrow hidden by tufts of grass.
A smile tugged at his lips. For whatever reason, Sharpness couldn't put a finger on it.
Personally, the presence of bunnies were always an omen. Just not today, fingers crossed.
Sharp trudged on, thoughtlessly cycling through ideas on how to get back, before remembering he could just check his communicator, which was strapped to his side.
Charms clanking as he unbuckled it, Sharp went to check his coordinates…only to find that he was thousands of blocks away from spawn. How convenient.
Of course he was thousands of fucking blocks away!
Sharp kicked the ground hard, showering himself (and communicator) in mud as a result.
Cursing, he grit his teeth, attempting to wipe the mud off his communicator. And it resulted in dirt smudging all over the screen. He'd only managed to clear a spot the size of a finger to find his reflection covered in mud and soot staring back. Sharp groaned.
Surely, there would be some water source close by, given how wet the soil was. He could really go for a nice, long, scalding hot if he can help it, shower right now.
And if Jude complains how long he's taking, he can fuck right off.
Thunderclap rang out, echoing far and wide. Followed by the cold and gentle tap of a raindrop falling on top of Sharp's head. Which grew into many taps. Which grew from tapping to pummeling in under half-a-minute.
Shit, he didn't mean right now, right now!
He tried to run from the impeding torrential downpour in vain, which ended with numbingly-cold rain weaselling through the gaps in his armour and drenching him to the skin. Whatever dust or mud left on him was quickly hosed off.
He could only see an arm's length away from his face with how hard the rain fell. He stumbled as fast as could, pushing through tall tufts of grass in an effort to find shelter.
Eventually, he did, barely spotting a dark silhouette of clustered buildings through the haze. The closest building turned out to be an old, wooden hut with a straw roof that looked one strong gale away from being blow smooth off.
Nevertheless, Sharp barreled through the oak door, almost ripping it off its hinges with the sheer force he'd entered, shutting it tight behind him. The walls seemed to shake from the force of the storm, the roof quite literally shivering in its timbers.
Sharp almost collapsed into the carpet in relief, face buried in the dusty, ashy-purple wool.
So this was what Jude had up his sleeve! He'd set this up so Sharp would get caught in the storm of the fucking century!
Sharp could practically hear Jude's stupid laughter ringing out, a familiar sound that he'd come to equate with the ground splitting from beneath him. A sound that almost always diffused any real anger Sharp harboured towards him.
He could see Jude's stupid mouth curl into his stupidly wide grin that somehow made him look both batshit insane and endearing, mocking him for being stupid and falling for one of his stupid traps or ploys once more.
He could imagine the stupid way Jude's stupid ears would twitch up when he was particularly pleased with himself, his stupid magenta eyes shimmer with pure, unbridled joy at having killed him once more, the stupid way he'd gesticulate wildly when something went his way.
His stupid, ever-present metallic scent of redstone dust that followed every where he'd go, his stupid everything!
He particularly hated the stupid way how, despite everything they've put each other through, Sharp would still light up like a firework when he sees that familiar mop of purple hair in the distance.
Oh, this was the last time he'll do anything nice for that…that..that…bitch!
Stupid fucking bunnies. They’re always bad news. Especially the purple ones. The next one he sees is fucking rabbit stew.
Sharp flopped an arm around, feeling for his communicator, ripping it out its holster. He tried powering it on, ready to send a long string of curses to one specific target, only to be met with a blank screen. Was it seriously not—!?
Sharp smacked it once. Twice. Thrice. Still, it didn’t turn on.
Face still planted in the carpet, he moved it closer to his ear, the sound of sloshing coming from inside telling him it was waterlogged.
It wasn’t broken—communicators were practically indestructible, he’d learnt from personal experience—just needed drying.
Sighing, Sharp lifted his head up, finding the room around him ridiculously cold and sparsely decorated.
First objective: start a fire.
There was the dusty carpet he was currently lying on, a bed in the far corner of the room, a desk beside it, and a window above said desk. A small bookshelf with a whopping one book sat beside the door. And, of course, everything was covered in a light layer of dust.
To his right, a hearth lay, the only non-wooden object in the entire house (thank fuck).
He pushed himself off the carpet, stumbling over and finding a few dry logs laying inside (thank fuck, again). If he recalled correctly, he had a flint-and-steel tucked somewhere on his person, proven correct when he pulled one out his inventory.
Lighting it, Sharp placed his communicator a small distance away from the flame before removing his armor and placing it to off to the hearth’s side. He, too, sat close to the fire, hands hovering just above it.
And for his next objective, Sharp…didn't really know.
Maybe, after a short rest, he could brave the storm. But with how plump those clouds looked and heavy the rain, there was a fat chance it wouldn't let up until early morning.
Good, Jude’s bitchass deserved the long wait.
Sharp should look around, then. Find something to do while he waited it out.
The bed, though large and soft, was too musty (and he too prissy) for rest.
On the other hand, the table housed a spider. One he'd dispatched ridiculously fast, his sword unsheathed in the blink of an eye. With a tad bit too much force, as both spider and table were now split clean in half.
He moved on to the unimpressive bookshelf, picking up the dusty, pinkish, leather cover of its singular book. The title, written in loopy cursive, was faded; Sharp couldn't make out a single word, thanks to that combination.
He ran his hands over the cover, picking at its nooks and crannies with his nails.
It was adorned with fancy flourishes in the corners, hearts etched into it. Sharp flipped it over, only to find the book's summary completely ineligible with age.
Opening the book to its first page, the title completely unreadable, Sharp was greeted with aged paper and that distinct scent every old book seemed to have.
The text below rambled on about how frustrating it could be to be "committed" with someone, whatever that meant. Teammates, probably.
That, Sharp could agree. Teaming was never really a long-term thing for him, with how he prizes his freedom. It takes a lot to get Sharp to do favours, especially his loyalty.
Either way, someone's back was getting stabbed and Sharp would never ever let that be him.
He doesn’t really regret it, the betrayals, never sticking around long enough to care too much.
Furthermore, it made it exceptionally harder to keep caring when you had absolute buffoons for teammates, not naming anyone in particular.
(Cough, cough, thatonetimeheteamedwithSpongsandEvo, cough, who said that?!)
Besides, there weren’t any hard feelings, after. This was Strength, for crying out loud, everyone here is some kind of coo-coo so what was there to regret?
He couldn't think of any exceptions, any moment he got to pull the trigger he took without regret, except maybe…
Flashes of purple and pistons firing quickly made him discontinue that line of thought.
Sharp skimmed the words, only picking up "arguments", "relationships", and "the love of my life".
Oh?
He re-read the first few paragraphs.
Oh.
It was a couple's guide. A couple, couple. Relationships, and all that. Something he wasn't interested in, of course.
He looked left, then right, then left again, squinting to see any potion particles that definitely didn't belong there. There were none.
…Well, not like there was anything better to do.
The next few paragraphs were dedicated to the author's mysterious partner and relationship, described in ridiculously sappy detail that reeked of domesticity.
Like how'd they would argue about little things like who'd do the laundry, chop wood, wash the dishes, clean the house, cook dinner, run errands, gather resources, all that stuff.
Sharp scoffed to himself. This was boring.
And what type of sicko liked arguing? He tried not to put much thought into it.
Then it went into detail of the author's partner, how he looked and smelled and how he laughed, about how everything was a reminder of him.
So much so that Sharp began to feel like he was his partner as well.
Ridiculous—how can one be so obsessed with someone to the point of seeing them everywhere—but the way their relationship was described made him feel a little…
The closest word he would use to describe the feeling would be romantic. Not in the usual lovey-dove sense, but the warm and fuzzy kind you'd feel when appreciating something beautiful that you'd want for yourself.
Which was probably the point. A strangely familiar feeling that sat weirdly with Sharp.
Though, he was quite fond of the word 'romantic'.
Sometimes he'd find himself mouthing it quietly while smashing skulls in with a mace, or as he watched his sword burst through the other side of his opponent's chest. Not because he thought it was 'romantic' to watch his foes crumble into nothingness, showering him with their items and experience points, but he because he liked how the word sounded.
If it were a tangible thing, Sharp imagined it would smell faintly like redstone dust.
Now, after that amusingly needless monologue, the book took a more clinical tone in contrast to the gushing of its pretext.
Something about how couples, more often than not, find themselves growing more agitated with one another. Quarrels turn to disagreement, disagreement turn to conflict, conflict into arguments, arguments into full on fights.
It didn't take a genius to get that fighting regularly wasn't healthy. Most of the time, this was a communication issue. Prolonged issues with communication, to be exact.
That…struck a chord with him. Somehow.
Apparently, couples who struggle with communicating their emotions with each other, like pet-peeves or gripes, find that those negative feelings magnify over time and show themselves in increasingly unhealthy ways.
There was that familiar feeling again, one where he could recognise a thought but couldn't exactly put his finger to it. Sharp frowned.
He shut the book, the harsh clap of pages slapping together drowned out by the torrent of rain pelting the hut, returning it to the shelf.
Well, attempted to return it. He couldn't bring himself to put it down. Try as he might, he just couldn't.
He opened the book once more, flicking back to where he'd left off, finding himself utterly glued to every word.
Slowly, he found himself devouring every little detail on how to improve his imaginary relationship, feelings of that…something growing stronger by the word.
This was just dumb. It's not like he actually needed a couple's guide of all things.
Sharpness just couldn't imagine why he'd be so enthralled by a book like this. He doesn't care about relationships and what not, only strength. No one on Strength does, matter of fact.
Did his subconscious want to solve a problem? With what? With who? Sharpness wanted an answer.
He tried picturing it, coming up with only a blurry mess of a puzzle slowly coming together. A blurry, purple mess to be exact. Familiar, almost.
But he was never really the best at puzzles.
For example, he never got the gist of redstone, which is technically a puzzle. Even when Jude would ramble on and on about his schematics. Sharp would listen anyway, if only to see Jude's face light up again and again when he asked questions.
The trapper would grab his hands, surprisingly gentle, and excitedly teach him everything he knew, though they both knew Sharp wouldn't retain the material for long.
He likes that, when Jude's happy.
Not the maniacal happy he gets after trapping someone (Sharp), the unguarded genuine happy he could only catch glimpses of before it vanishes in a flash.
If he brought it up, he'd be brushed off. Maybe sent off to go on another restock run. It was just so frustrating to be blessed with such a beautiful sight only to be pushed away, again and again.
Sometimes, when alone with nothing more than his thoughts to keep him company, he’d find himself wishing he were some particularly complex redstone contraption for the trapper to gush at, to adore.
Wait, what the fuck?
The finaly puzzle piece slid into place with ease unparalleled, hitting Sharp with a clarity so heavy it felt like an enchanted mace smashing down unto his skull.
Who he was thinking of…was Judelow.
That was…that was…why did he even think about.. just what!? No, no. That couldn't be.
They're each other's greatest enemies, the fact he thought..or were like..like that or the fact he wanted them to act like…was just..not it.
This had to be wrong. Sharp flicked through the pages, searching for something to refute it.
He stopped at a random page, the title he couldn't decipher due to its loopy font. It detailed how it was natural for couples to feel that way sometimes!? But talking it out and expressing—
What the fuck!? No, no. That wasn't right. He and Jude might act like that but they didn't really care.
About each other, Sharp added. He felt a strange pang of hurt at the idea. But why?
They kill each other on a regular basis! They've killed each other more than anyone in the server.
Sharp would often find himself suffocating at the bottom of rabbit holes. Jude would find himself impaled through the heart by a familiar netherite sword if he wasn't careful enough.
But they always gave the other's things back, He found himself refuting.
True, but they actively put each other in harm's way. There was really no way. What type of relationship was that?
Like Jude's obsession with testing new traps on him specifically. And Sharp's penchant for using the trapper as a training dummy for his protogés.
But they'd never let anyone else inflict any real pain.
Neither liked to admit out loud, but both hated to see the other hurt at the hands of someone else. There's a reason why they call upon the other to help out in sticky situations, like getting jumped.
Well, they argue at every possible moment.
About anything really. The shenanigans other players would drag them in, their gripes with how the other had killed them the other day.
But there was never any real heat behind anything they'd say.
More often than not, they'd bicker over smaller matters like Sharp's horrible cooking and his weird obsession with Jude's cat cape. Or how paranoid Jude always was, pacing in the halls or staying up late at night talking loudly to himself while the swordsmaster tried to sleep.
Silent arguments on who would this or that.
How, whenever Sharp had managed to successfully sneak and sleep in Jude's base, he'd always be unceremoniously woken by the trapper in his face poking and prodding him about why he was here.
Chores for Jude's base since he was so insistent on Sharp helping out since he practically lived there. Domestic things they didn't really care about but just wanted to find something to talk about— wait, no.
The book said only couples did that. This wasn't proving his point that they weren't..eugh..like that at all!
Plus, they don't do anything, uh, do anything conventionally lovey-dovey.
But always gravitate towards one another when given the chance.
Sharp would follow Jude around, loitering not too far away most of the time. He just liked watching the trapper…tinker with his redstone, he felt the need to add.
He wouldn't be shooed away, either, quite surprising he knows. Sometimes, if he’d let him and when it was quite late, Sharp would drape himself over Jude’s shoulders, and Jude would lean into his touch, his warm breath, surprisingly unbothered as he’d lift a hand to apologetically pat him on the cheek.
Sharp would then whine for him to stop working so they could go home and sleep already, yet he’d stay when that was denied.
Oh, fucking hell, that made them sound like a pining couple even more.
They…Sharp needed to find more things to refute himself…they weren't even teammates, anymore! He betrayed Jude, for fucks sake.
Yet how many times have they both still trusted the other? To not expect the earth to split and swallow one whole into a belly ran by redstone, or a blade to pierce clean through ribs the moment one turned away?
Somehow, in a weird, scuffed way, they still trusted—
Okay! Okay, Sharpness will admit he's losing to himself in this mental game of chess. So what?
So what if they do care about each other? Sharp tried to squash down the little ember of joy growing in his chest at the thought.
Either way, they were enemies. Each other's greatest enemy. They hate each other. They say it to each other's faces all the time.
Just because they pulled their punches didn't mean they…
Why spend so much time devising ways to kill the other if it weren't for their bone-deep hatred for the other?
But giving the thought of Jude really, truly hating him a voice in his mind left an ugly, almost bitter taste on his tongue. It snaked down his throat, like he'd swallowed a tightly knotted ball of ice, before jamming itself into his chest like a pile of boulders.
The very idea repulsed him to the core. Terrified him, even.
And the thought of him really, truly hating Jude elicited an equally..gross feeling.
So what did this all mean, then!? What did they mean to him? Sharp couldn't wrap his head around it. They didn't hate each other nearly as much as how they acted.
It just didn't make any sense! Were they enemies? Were they lovers?!
Were they somehow both!?
Wait…
…What if, Sharpness, in all his intellectual prowess, had simply forgotten they were together? Sharp froze.
He couldn’t believe this. Was he…were they? Should he ask Jude..? He should definitely ask.
But what if Jude gets mad at him for forgetting and leaves him to go rot in a hole? Was that why Jude could be so mean to him? Because he was being a bad boyfriend since he forgot?
No, no, no.
This was stupid. He would've remembered something as important as..that. He would've, he swears!
Yet it made so much sense.
How he revelled in all the killing, the arguing for argument's sake, the teasing, the gravitating towards one another, the constantly pissing-each-other-of-but-not-really, their love-hate, push-pull relationship, the way he'd see Jude in any little thing that could remind him of the trapper— was he subconsciously remembering?
They were just..a couple doing couple things.
A little extreme, pushing the boundaries of what it means to be together, but still doing couple things like griping. Or in this case, killing.
Sharp's no expert, but he's sure killing your partner daily isn't the best way to show your love for him. Was it?
Remembering he still had the book open in his hands, Sharp skimmed through the pages for an answer.
Apparently, the answer was:
Everyone has their own unique ways in expressing their love for their partner. The most common of which are physical affection, gift-giving, spending time with each other…
But remember, love can be expressed unconventionally too!
Was their's...reciprocal slaughter? How.. cute.? Maybe they did need the book after all.
The more thought he put into it, the more it made sense. His behaviour around the trapper could only be explained by that.
So, was that why everyone treated them like a couple?
Parker, when he'd still lived with Jude, always insisted on making kissy noises whenever they were around each other for too long despite how that almost always guaranteed death by Sharp's hand.
Cow, Saps, literally anyone he was close to always found a way to tease him about. Don't even get him started on Flow or Tai, who were both way too invested in this ‘Sharplow’ shit.
The entire Strength SMP, actually, were just too invested for something Sharp thought was just everyone being dumb.
Oh, how could he forget something as important as this!? Everyone was right about him. Sharp really isn't all that "sharp" all along.
The fact he needed a book of all things to jog his memory was just embarrassing.
Speaking of the book, he's taking it with him. For research purposes. He can’t let anyone see he has this, though, but he’ll deal with a place to hide it later.
Sharpness slowly moved away from the bookshelf, shuffling over to the bed. He sat down, back resting against the mattress, facing the hearth.
Book in lap, Sharp began to do something he'd never bothered to before: read.
He didn't even notice his communicator power back on, buzzing with unread notifications.
<Judelow> how was it
<Judelow> sharp
<Judelow> sharp
<Judelow> sharp
<Judelow> sharp
<Judelow> how was getting caught in the rain lmao
<Judelow> sharp
<Judelow> sharp
<Judelow> hurry up bro
<Judelow> how long does it take to get iron and redstone
<Judelow> its getting late
<Judelow> sharp
<Judelow> sharpness
<Judelow> ts not tuff bro answer
<Judelow> sharp
<Judelow> sharp
<Judelow> sharp
<Judelow> are you gonna go away for another week again lol
<Judelow> holy ragebaited
<Judelow> sharp?