jovialknave

[jovialknave]

(tumblr ate this ask when I tried to post it but here's a screenshot of what the prompt was)

HIIII :D TANGOOO yes i was very excited for this one :3 hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 1025

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It’s like this: Tango, for months on end, had holed himself up underground. Countless hours of complicated redstone and careful designing of the levels, putting his heart and soul into the creation of his game. It was a passion project, worth every minute that it had taken, but he can’t pretend that it hadn’t gotten tedious at times. A little dark. A little lonely. 

But every now and then, Scar would show up. He understood passion projects well, in the midst of one of his own, and he never let Tango go too long without a visit. He’d be carving his masterpiece at the bottom of the world and suddenly Scar would appear with a mischievous grin and a pocket full of sunshine, just to keep him company. Just so that he wouldn’t be alone. 

Tango would give anything to be able to return the favor. Would blow the entirety of Decked Out to kingdom come if it meant they had a chance. 

As it is, though, there’s nothing he can do. Himself and the other redstoners have been working nonstop since they got home, building and building and building and watching it all fail and fall to ruin. Failure is common when working with redstone, but it’s never hit them quite so hard. There’s never been so much at stake, before. 

His emotions flare with each discarded project, heat coming off of him like a furnace, anger and anguish burning brightly in the very core of him. There are times where no one can get close to him for fear of getting burned. 

He remembers the heat surrounding him before his final death in the game, torch in hand as he burned Bdub’s globe-shaped base. Scar had convinced him to do it. There’d been something desperate and agonized in his eyes, and it had made it impossible to say no. Even though he’d known where it was going. He hadn’t been the least bit surprised to feel Scar’s hand land on his back and shove. His voice, quiet and unnervingly sincere. 

(“Goodbye, Tango.”)

In the few hours a night he manages to sleep, he always wakes up with those same two words echoing in his ears. A goodbye. One he hadn’t known the finality of until he’d spawned back onto Hermitcraft with the others and watched Pearl drop to her knees screaming, watched Grian crack right down the middle. 

Fast forward three weeks later, and they’ve barely gained an inch. The portal to the middle dimension had been a relief to see work, but the barrier has them back at square one, throwing darts at the wall and seeing what sticks. Grian disappears into there for hours at a time, sitting and staring at the problem. There’s a catch though, to staring at a problem for too long; you start to see your own reflection. Tango knows. He’s been staring at himself for a while now. 

“Making a sculpture?”

A voice from behind him startles him, and he blinks as he’s dragged out of his thoughts, gaze landing on the mangled bits of metal welded together by his heated hands. He sets it down on the table with a huff, turning around to face Jimmy, standing there with an eyebrow raised, bright yellow wings folded behind his back. 

“I’m not into abstract art,” Tango mutters, shoulders dropping in exhaustion, irritation at himself rolling in his stomach. He glares at the tangle of metal. “It wasn’t going to be anything important, anyway.”

Jimmy hums, coming up beside him and leaning against the table, the two of them surveying the various players milling around the Dome doing odd jobs. Keeping busy. They’d all developed a sudden allergy to being idle. 

“How long you been in here for?” Jimmy asks. 

Tango stares ahead, voice dull as he answers. “I don’t know.”

“Need to get Bdubs to install a clock, eh?” Jimmy jokes, an attempt at levity that lands clumsily. He’s got a nervous energy about him, but Tango barely even registers it. Everyone is like that, these days. 

“I doubt it would help,” Tango replies. 

“I think I know something that would,” Jimmy says. 

“Yeah? What would that be?”

Jimmy looks at him seriously. “You need to get out, man. You need some sunshine.”

Tango, ridiculously, feels the urge to tell him that that’s Scar’s job. Scar’s the one that brings the sunshine. 

He’d probably be sad, if saw what Tango had been up to. It’s the only reason he agrees. 

“Fine,” Tango says, sighing. He gives his mangled project one last forlorn look. Then he turns back to Jimmy and pushes away from the table. “Let’s go get some sunshine, I guess.”

Jimmy smiles, subdued but triumphant, and together they walk outside. It’s almost embarrassing how well it works to put him in a slightly better mood. 

They walk down the uneven dirt paths, and eventually Tango glances sidelong at Jimmy, wondering about something. 

“I was burning enough to bend metal and you walked right up to me,” he says, raising an eyebrow, question clear in his tone. 

Jimmy shrugs innocently, a playful little gleam in his eye. “I mighta downed a fire resistance potion before I came over.”

It’s shocking enough that Tango can’t help his short bark of laughter, Jimmy chuckling along beside him. The sun is bright and burning. He feels guilty almost immediately after. It feels wrong to laugh knowing Scar is somewhere out there, alone and trapped and hurting. Out of reach. 

At the bottom of the world building his game, it had been easy to get lost in the mechanics of it all. Easy to get lost in his own work. 

It’s like this: Tango gets lost, and Scar comes and finds him. That’s how it had been for a long time. 

(“Goodbye, Tango.”)

No, Tango thinks, chest burning with stubborn determination. Not goodbye. 

He walks with Jimmy for a little longer, but soon takes his leave and heads straight back into the Dome, throwing his failed project into the fire and drawing up plans for the next one. 

Scar may be lost, but Tango won’t rest until he’s found. 

[jovialknave]

If you're able to or willing to, a little scene of Pearl taking care of Jellie in Ad Astra could be cool? :) Hope you're having a lovely day/night

I AM WILLING AND ABLE here it is :3

Word Count: 1191

------------------------------

There’s a bucket of salmon sitting at Pearl’s feet, and another thrashing at the other end of her line. She reels it in slowly, feels its movements grow more and more frantic as it fights to escape. Pearl, indifferent, watches the water ripple and splash as the salmon — hook through its bleeding mouth — is pulled from the water. She reaches for it with gloved hands, setting aside her fishing rod and deftly removing the hook from its skin. Its mouth is open. Fish don’t make much noise, when they die. 

It’s strange, really. Most everything else dies screaming. 

(“Could you take care of Jellie?” There’s a wild quality about Scar’s eyes that scares her. He’s desperate. He’s heartbroken. “She— she doesn’t like tuna, but salmon’s okay–”)

She leaves her fishing rod abandoned on the dock, shivering against the chill in the air as she turns back towards Scarland, picking up the bucket of writhing fish as she goes. It’s overcast today, in that way that tells her that it would be snowing, if Xisuma hadn’t disabled it. No one was much in the mood for a snow day. 

She jumps the turnstiles at the front of the park. They’d stopped working a few days ago, and Impulse has been too busy helping to build up their base of operations to come over and fix it. It’s not even been a week since they got back. Things keep breaking. Scar had been an essential cog in their machine, and nothing quite works the same without him. Nothing works at all, it feels like. They’re no closer to getting Scar back than they’d been at the start. Pearl has no new ideas, no dimensional know-how, no intricate knowledge of the Watcher’s aside from knowing what they are. She can’t help at all, really. Not in any way that matters.

But she has been given a task to do. So, she fishes. She jumps the turnstiles. She finds Jellie curled up on Scar’s pillow, tail twitching. 

Jellie’s ears flick towards her as she enters, eyes sliding open and tracking her as she crosses the room. Pearl greets her softly, setting the bucket down next to the furnace, coaxing a flame out of the coals and putting the salmon on the rack. Cats could eat it raw, she was sure, but Scar had always cooked it for her. She’s a lousy substitute, but she’s going to do her best. Jellie was the most important thing to Scar, and he’d asked her to—

Well, she’d been the only person left to ask, she supposed. 

(“No, Scar,” Pearl says, voice breaking as she pleads. “You’re gonna take care of her, okay? Because you’re going to come home. You are.”)

He’d been crying during that final fight. He had been breaking apart long before it, though, and Pearl had missed it. 

She pulls the salmon from the oven, tearing it into pieces and putting it on a plate, crossing the room to the bed. Jellie squints at her, whiskers twitching. Pearl pastes on a shaky smile, sitting at the foot of the bed and setting the plate down between them. The plate from yesterday is on the floor against the wall, untouched. She hadn’t eaten it. 

“Please,” Peal says softly, hands twisted into the fabric of the blanket. “You— You gotta eat something, Jellie. I… I promised—”

Her voice breaks, and she snaps her jaw shut, mouth trembling and eyes stinging. Her breathing stutters in her lungs. Jellie watches her, chest rising and falling slowly, lethargically. She’s barely moved from the bed. It’s probably one of the only places that still smells like Scar.

She swallows against the lump in her throat, nudging the plate a little with a shaking hand. “You should eat it while it’s warm.”

Jellie blinks, and doesn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” Pearl says, chest aching as if a boulder were crushing it. Her voice cracks and wavers. “I’m not the one who’s supposed to— He should be here. I should have won, I— I’m sorry.”

(“Tell Cub I’m sorry,” Scar says, and Pearl can’t breathe, can’t think— “Tell everyone I’m sorry.”

“Wait—!”)

Scar isn’t here. Pearl can’t get Jellie to eat. He had said she liked salmon, hadn’t he? Had she gotten it wrong?

“You gotta eat,” Pearl begs, tears trailing silently down her face. “Just— Please—”

A heaving sob cuts her off, hair sticking to the tears on her cheeks as she curls in on herself, hand coming up to cover her mouth. The crushing hopelessness of the situation closes in on her like a vice, terrible grief rising in her throat, threatening to choke her. She remembers the moment the arrow had hit her. She remembers appearing back home, all of them but one, collapsing beneath the horror of realization. She remembers the look on Grian’s face, utterly indescribable in its agony. If she’d just won—

“Pearl?”

Pearl jumps hard, whipping her head around to face the intruder, eyes wild and face still wet with tears. 

It’s only Impulse, standing there with his toolbox in hand and dark, dark circles beneath a worried gaze. His hair is a mess. 

“The turnstiles are broken,” Pearl says hoarsely. 

Impulse just nods, slowly coming closer. “I’ll fix it.”

Pearl sniffs, wiping at her eyes as she turns back to Jellie. Impulse stands next to where she’s sitting on the bed, seeming at a loss for words. He looks exhausted. Pearl wonders what he came here for.

“She won’t eat,” Pearl says, looking down at the full plate of salmon. “She misses ‘im.”

“Yeah, that’s going around,” Impulse says sadly, shoulders slumping. He sets his toolbox down and reaches over to pet Jellie gently, hand trembling slightly as he scratches between her ears. His eyes flicker back to meet hers. “How about you? Have you eaten?”

Pearl huffs, breaking eye contact, and Impulse bends down to his toolbox, pulling out a bag with a sandwich in it. Pearl blinks at him, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I brought it for lunch, but I’m not that hungry, either,” Impulse says, voice deceptively casual as he opens the bag. “How ‘bout we split it?”

Pearl opens her mouth to decline, but Impulse’s hopeful eyes make her hesitate, and then sigh. She holds out her hand, and Impulse smiles cheekily, handing her half of the sandwich. She takes a bite. Ham and cheese. 

“Thank you,” Pearl says softly after another few bites. She looks at Impulse out of the corner of her eye, watching his sad eyes clash with his warm smile.

“We’ve got to take care of each other, right?” Impulse says, laying a comforting hand on her arm. “We can’t all be falling apart when Scar gets back.”

“You’re so sure,” Pearl says, sorrow choking her words.

“Not sure,” Impulse confesses quietly. “Just hopeful.”

The sound of someone gently chewing interrupts their conversation, and they both turn to find Jellie crouched by the plate of salmon, picking up another piece to eat. Tears of relief sting at Pearl’s eyes, and she laughs softly, deflating as the stress leaves her body. 

“Hopeful,” she says. “I can try that.”

[jovialknave]

=====>

Pearl: ???

Pearl: Is that...

Pearl: Gem!!

Pearl: Gem Gem Gem Gem!

Pearl: Turn towards my voice!

Pearl: But not so fast that you fall into lava!

Pearl: Geeeeeeeem!

Gem: Wh- Pearl?

Gem: I was just about to message you!

Gem: What have you been doing all this time? You entered the Nether so long ago!

Pearl: I may have ran int- Ahhh what does it matter

Pearl: I'm here now!

Gem: Well thank god, 'cause Scar and Grian aren't

Gem: Let's get them before it becomes a problem.

Pearl: Why? Did something happen?

Gem: Pearl, you have no idea. So first Scar goes and starts a staring contest with an Enderman..."

=> Everyone: Open Messenger

Start Over -- Go Back

[jovialknave]

🌟 Final chapter of Ad Astra has been posted!! 🌟

Ao3 Link

“It’s because of you that there won’t be any more games,” Grian says eventually, absently petting Jellie as she walks by to get to Scar. “And you wouldn’t have been able to do that if you hadn’t— if you hadn’t done what you did. Stayed. They gave you all the tools you needed to stop them.” “I can appreciate the irony, I guess,” Scar says, morbid amusement coloring his tone.  “They’re dead,” Grian says. “You won.”

[jovialknave]

Chapter 19

I dont really know what to say, erm enjoy the chapter

PREV// MASTERPOST // NEXT

If you like what we do, feel free support me on Ko Fi !

[jovialknave]

Inflicting a psychic damage on you.

[jovialknave]

I’m going to the Crane Wives concert in July, and I’m planning on cosplaying Ad Astra Scar! Could I get a detailed description of him for reference? :3

Saw this ask blacked out and made this <3 AKJSKSK His design is mostly just his secret life red skin minus the red eyes and with a few added features :)

Here’s a written description from a while back

[Link to the fic]

[jovialknave]

thinking about ad astra hours again. smile

anywho I had a question? How far along in watcher rducation did grian get? is he about the same, or more or less than scar? and was it similar to scars education, what did they teach him? if grian was taught enough to run, does scar know enough to run now?

also deeply enjoying what a bamf you made scar. makes my scar loving heart cheer ! bro deserves some sick ass moments (and he is capable of them.. wish we saw that more both in canon and in fanon..) anyway have a good Time.

Ooo good questions!! Small ramble incoming lmao bc I've thought about this a lot:

The differences between Grian/Scar's experience with the Watchers is fun to think about, and it's something I kind of had to make sense of in my head before I could write some things.

The backstory I came up with in Ad Astra is that Grian was actually the very first player the Watchers ever transformed, so it was very experimental. He didn't really have a fledgling phase like Scar did (they did it to Scar to better control both him and Grian). It's stated in the fic that Grian was with the Watchers for less time than Scar, and it's simply because once Grian's control of his power had grown enough to do so, he escaped. It only took him a few days to realize that he really didn't want to be there, and then maybe a week later he used his magic to throw himself out of the Watcher realm. There wasn't a lot of finesse involved lmao, and I imagine at that point he crash landed onto hermitcraft.

Once the games started up, Grian had to make a deal with the Watchers that as long as he followed the rules/didn't interfere, they wouldn't take his friends and they would get a couple months of freedom between games. When Grian lets Scar reroll for a hard task instead of failing, the Watchers take it as an opportunity. They can't actually trap anyone who is dead set on leaving (unless they want to straight up permanently kill the person, which they don't generally like to do) which is the reason Scar promising to stay and be their experiment was such a powerful bargaining tool. Scar knew enough to have made a break for it after the first lesson, but he couldn't. He wouldn't.

As for the difference in Grian and Scar's magic, Grian is mostly self-taught at this point. They have about the same power level, but their ways of using it are different, both based on their personalities and the way they've been taught. Grian uses his magic in its raw form a lot, just like pure magic (think scarlet witch from marvel), and he also has a natural talent for the Sight portion of his powers, whereas Scar struggled with that for a while (hello blindfold trauma). Scar has more of a natural talent for the illusion part of Watcher magic, which isn't to say that Grian wouldn't be able to do it, they just have different strengths. Since Scar has spent more time being formally trained, he does things a little differently than Grian, who figured a lot of it out for himself but still has several more years of experience.

Anyway kjsdak I'm glad you enjoy bamf scar!! :3 I love letting him kick ass

[jovialknave]

oh magical mountain, you were everything

[jovialknave]

scar hitting grian's "best friends"

[jovialknave]

convex talk about zombies and biting each other, typical convex activities in truth

from a suggestion by @feathrdflake - ao3 link

Scar liked to let his legs hang off the apartment building edge, unbothered by the crumbling cement that Cub couldn’t help but watch fall all three stories, shivering in turn. Cub didn’t like to be up here at all, especially when Scar was always flirting with the edge, but at the same time, crutches discarded, Scar never smiled so wide as when his legs could dance freely, unhindered by the ground.

“It hurts less up there,” Scar had said, wistful and patient when Cub had not so subtly suggested they find a nice bench or rock to sit on instead. There was no more argument, regardless of the fact that Cub was pretty sure the three flights of stairs they climbed had to be more pain than this was worth. Maybe that was just a testament to how much this meant.

“Aren’t you going to sit with me?” Scar asked, innocent, as if he didn’t know full well why Cub was standing yards from the edge. The following smirk gave him away. Horrible liar. The only reason people believed him at all was that sharp jawline and his infectious moronic charm. If they knew him as a compulsive liar, like their friends in the outpost, he was usually humored regardless, even to everyone else’s inconvenience. Scar just had this way about him; even when he had a roundabout way of asking, you couldn’t help but want to please him.

Cub shuffled to the edge, paled, then sat in a clumsy flop, scooching hurriedly to sit back to back with Scar instead.

“Come on, you gonna make me crane my neck to see you?” Scar’s voice was teasing, and Cub remained unconvinced that he wasn’t loving every second, sadist as he was. Regardless, Cub leaned into Scar’s breath on his shoulder, eyes closing as Scar’s fingers grazed his chin. “God, I love when you have stubble.” 

Gently, Scar turned Cub’s head, inclining enough for a kiss. Scar’s lips were so soft; how he kept them that way, Cub was clueless, his own as dry as the cracked ground. Helpfully, Scar never mentioned it; he may as well have been kissing clouds. However, the lidded eye contact in the aftermath was a little too intense for Cub’s liking.

“I’m waiting for someone to notice I need a new razor.”

Scar snorted. “I’ll just ask, goofus.”

“Not tryin’ to bother anyone.”

“Well I’m always doing that- Also, that’s just blatantly untrue. I know you’re the one who’s been writing those cryptic messages with blood and dirt on the walls, no one else would do that shit.”

“That’s not me, man.”

“Uh huh. Mister ‘nO nEed to stAy awaKe tOniGht’ and ‘tHerE’s noThiNg uNdEr tHe bEd’ and ‘yoUr piLlOwcAses aRen’T fUll oF eGgs’ and- actually the ‘iT’s nOt wAtEr’ when half of us went to our rooms to find kinda damp sheets was pretty awesome, I’m a little mad you didn’t cut me in on that one.”

“My bed also had not-water on it, I’m a victim here.”

“Uh huh. What’s next?”

“Not me, man, it’s not me.”

Scar stared, green eyes piercing, and Cub stared back, unyielding until Scar lost the staring contest (as usual) and turned back around in a huff. “I’ll get you one day.”

“You won’t.”

“Oh! Look!” Scar jolted, making Cub jump, but his partner didn’t seem to notice, “One lone zombie, this is great! We can pretend like we’re doing our jobs now, fetch the rifle, will you?”

“I am not letting you shoot while you’re sitting there.”

Cub got to his feet, not taking his eyes off Scar as his face scrunched, clearly considering whether it would be worth it to argue. Instead, he laid back on the dusty roof with a loud sigh. “You think so little of me. I’m very safe. Very safe. I wasn’t going to ask.” All the other times he’d demanded to shoot the high-kickback gun on the edge of various long drops suggested otherwise.

Cub ignored him, clicking off the safety and raising the rifle to his shoulder, a methodical action by now. He’d never shot a gun before everything went to shit. Scar had practically shrieked with laughter when Cub did it for the first time, the scope of this very rifle kicking back so hard into his face that he’d had a black eye for a week. It wasn’t a malicious thing on Scar’s part; once he realized Cub was actually hurt rather than simply spooked, he’d been on him like a mother hen. They’d been strangers, then. Cub had wanted fiercely to think badly of him, but the earnestness with which Scar had apologized for the improper warning— Scar was an abysmal liar, but he was good at the truth.

The zombie went down in one shot. Nothing spectacular. Sometimes their heads exploded. That was fun. Scar was clearly disappointed as well, but by the time Cub had put the rifle to the side, Scar was on a completely different line of thought. Cub returned, lifting a stubbornly limp Scat to a sitting position so they could be back to back once more. Cub’s only regret was that he couldn’t stare at Scar’s face a little longer, working to piece out what he was thinking. Not that Cub needed to guess; Scar would never let a stray thought go unsaid.

“When you’re a zombie, where would you bite me?”

“When?”

“If,” Scar shrugged, like there was no distinction. “Where would you bite me?”

“I dunno.” Cub rolled his eyes. “Probably like your arm or something.”

“Seriously!?” Scar turned so hard he nearly knocked the both of their heads, “Just my arm? It’s like you don’t even love me.”

“I’m a zombie, man, I don’t love you.”

“Wow. Just. Wow.” Scar drawled the word, and Cub would have smacked him across the forehead if he wasn’t sitting on the edge of a three story building. “You know, I’d make it special. I would be so good to you, and you don’t even care.”

“Right. So where would you bite me.”

“Well!” Scar perked up, like he’d been waiting months for Cub to ask this very question, “First I’d back you into a wall, really make you sweat. I’d hold your wrists, gentle-like, you could leave if you wanted to, but you won’t because even as a zombie I’ve got the best ass in town. I’d be tender with you, Cub, because we both know we can only do this once.”

“I didn’t know zombies were horny.”

“You kidding? There’s some real whore zombies out there, Cub, they’re dogs.”

“And I guess you’re one of them.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Cub was pretty sure he did have an idea actually, but Scar was already moving on. “I wouldn’t kiss you, even though I’d want to. I wouldn’t even open my mouth, because then I wouldn’t be able to help myself, and I want this to last. So I’d breathe you in, your life, and I’d trail my lips across your skin just to hear your heart race. I’d get to hear you panic, but still you wouldn’t run away, because you trust me, and when we’re both dead we’ll finally get to live forever.”

“Still haven’t said where you’ll bite me.”

“Don’t be impatient, Cub!” Scar huffed, but he didn’t say anything else. When the silence lingered, Cub would have questioned him if Scar’s tolerance for quiet wasn’t eternally nonexistent. “Where would you want me to bite you?”

“You’re kidding me. You don’t know?”

“It’s- Of course I know! But it’s a big decision, isn’t it, I think you should have an opinion! Honestly, it’s your body, you should choose! You choose, Cub.”

“I can’t believe this, man. Judging me about the arm, and you don’t even know where you’d bite me..”

“I- That’s not true! It’s just hard, isn’t it? I mean, I was thinking around the same places I’d leave a hickey, but your neck feels too- bad, and thigh, maybe, it’s just a little too far, y’know? Could do your chest, but it’s just so perfect, right, and you’re going to have this mark forever. How could I live with myself if I gave you a lopsided boob!”

“How much of my fucking chest are you putting in your mouth.”

“Go big or go home when you’re a zombie.”

“I suppose.”

“I don’t want to bite you.” Scar was suddenly firm, emotional, and Cub laughed at the sudden change.

“What happened to living forever? Are you gonna make me do it?”

“Yes. Please. Do it.”

“Geez, I’m not in a rush.”

“No,” Scar turned, breath short, eyes wide and frenzied, “Do it. Bite me. Now. I have to know how it feels.”

“Seriously?”

“Wherever you want, as hard as you can, please. Like you want it.” Scar fumbled with his shirt, pulling it back by the collar. “No, my shoulder. I want it on my shoulder.”

“You want me to bite you?”

“Yes! Bite me, do it now, please.”

Cub wouldn’t consider himself a yes-man, but the request caught him just enough off guard that he didn’t hesitate to take the place of Scar’s hand on his shirt collar; Scar had asked, so why wouldn’t he follow through?

Scar’s shoulder was hard, it did not give to violence like Cub might have imagined, but it did bleed, warm and metallic under Cub’s teeth.

“Fuck- Oh my god-“ Cub did not let go. Scar did not ask him to. Though at the point where Cub wretched on the overwhelming sting of blood, he did not reattach. Scar caught Cub’s lips in his own, and Cub much preferred the taste of his tongue to his shoulder. Cub was not even aware enough of the nearby drop to be relieved when Scar pushed him back and away from it, entirely in his lap as they made out on the roof of the dingy, abandoned apartment building, chasing adrenaline, love, the rush, anything to be caught in the whirlwind that released them from a world on fire.

[jovialknave]

REDSCAPE NATION IM FUCKING BACK

[jovialknave]

REDSCAPE NATION IM FUCKING BACK

[jovialknave]

Chapters: 29/32 Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Grian/Scar, Martyn/Ren, Jimmy/Scott Major Tags: Time Loop, Blood and Injury, Codependency, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Time Travel 

Chapter 29 released. Preview:

Scar cooked for them. The fire crackled, low and steady, the only sound between them. They had spoken during the journey home, but as soon as they started climbing Monopoly Mountain, silence had fallen like a physical weight on their backs. Scar stirred the soup, the wooden spoon scraping against the bottom of the pot. Each movement was slow and deliberate. The scent of cooked meat and carrots filled the air, warm and earthy, but Grian felt nauseous and cold. Grian sat at their table, arms wrapped around his knees, and he watched. His fingers twitched like they wanted to reach for something - his sword, Scar’s hand, or maybe the past. Scar didn’t even look at him. He just kept stirring, his bitterness visible. “You always put too many carrots,” Grian murmured. His voice was quiet, hardly enough to even be called a whisper, but it still felt too loud. Scar exhaled sharply, and his hand jerked, something akin to a flinch. Some of the soup splashed over the side of the pot. “The carrots are good for you,” Scar said after enough time had passed that Grian thought he wouldn’t speak at all. “You’re just a hater.” Grian didn’t argue like he once would have. Their conversation felt like a flimsy attempt at normality; like it was possible for anything to be normal, when Grian would be nothing but a corpse before the sun had a chance to set in the sky. Thinking about it made Grian bite his lip, and he lowered his head, staring at the wooden floor beneath his chair.

[jovialknave]

hypothetical fate charms :)

[jovialknave]

more bamboozlers bc I love them and miss wild life

ref is a picture taken from the insta account "11ae_together" btw!! Show them some love <3

[jovialknave]

exasperated cub dealing with desert duo stuck in a hole save me.