#“You know‚” Grian tells him‚ leaning against a tree‚

[crimson-roots]

LEMME SEE THE WIP PLEAAAASE please

OH GOD . listen i never made any promises this was going to be good. okay. the angst hasn't been written yet, so instead i present you with,, whatever this is <3

enjoy!

The man -- Grian, Tim thinks, though god knows why the poor soul's called that -- fidgets in his ill-fitting red sweater, fingers tangled in unravelling thread. Peers at the crowbar in his hand, perplexed.

Tim thinks that maybe he should be nervous; hell, the last time he'd pissed someone off, it had ended with the explosions, and horrible death, and everything. Still, he thinks, shifting in his stance, it's kind of par for the course, at this point.

(He thinks about the amount he's going to have to spend on therapy after this, mourning his poor credit card, then remembers that he does not, in fact, have his credit card on him. Probably because of the aforementioned 'horrible death and everything.') (Are you even allowed to get therapy when you're dead? Maybe heaven has therapy. Maybe it has some kayaks. Tim doesn't come to an answer.) 

(Grian doesn't look like much of a therapist, anyway.)

He opens his mouth to speak - something scathing and well-thought out, because he's cool and sexy and not losing his calm - when the guy beats him to it. His voice is, somehow, exactly what Tim had expected: "Woah. That's not in minecraft. ...is it?"

Tim blinks. Blinks a couple times, really, as if that'd make any more sense. It doesn't. "What," he says. He's trying for neutral, but honestly at this point he just sounds bewildered. "You've never seen a crowbar before?"

"Nope," Grian says, sounding awfully cheerful about it. (Really, Tim respects a guy who's never seen a crowbar before. He wishes he hadn't, but, y'know. Clowns, and death, and everything.)

(That being said, Tim pulls it off. At least he's got that going for him.)

"Huh." The silence stretches between them. "Weird."

"Weird," red-sweater hums, nodding in polite British agreement. "Learning a lot about Minecraft, actually. Did you know that in version Beta 1.2_01, you used to be able to milk squids?"

Tim has no idea what half of those words mean. He very much does not want to know about the other half. "I'm an alpha," he tells Grian. Grian nods sagely.

The silence stretches onward.

==

+@yellowsomethings, since the ask doesn't get tagged <3

[pokichuwrites]

Edit: adding a “read more” tab because scrolling through this beast is a nightmare. No tws except uhh traffic series typical mentions of death.

“You know Grian, I forgive you.”

Grian jumped embarrassingly high, and spun around to see Scar, who was smiling at him. Perhaps he was a little on edge now that the entire server was red. That’s fine. It’s fine. “You- Scar! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Scar giggled, and Grian huffed, crossing his arms. “Come on G, it was pretty funny.”

Grian sighed. “Ugh, fine. Well, you made your way all over here. What do you want?”

Scar cleared his throat dramatically, and threw out his left arm, his right hand was holding onto his cane, or else he probably would have held out both arms, as if he was silently asking for a one armed hug.

“I just want to talk to you, is that so wrong!” Scar smiled at him. It was frustratingly endearing.

“Nothing wrong, I just… wasn’t expecting it. That’s all,” Grian explained. He didn’t really believe Scar that he just wanted to talk to Grian. There was something more. Scar was going to… trick Grian, or something. He didn’t know. They weren’t exactly allies this season, and Scar hasn’t been very trustworthy.

“Haven’t you learned to expect the unexpected, G?” Scar asked, leaning against his cane and gesturing as he talked. “How about we walk to my base and I tell you about my day and you tell me about yours?”

“You know, if the session wasn’t over already I’d assume this was related to a task,” Grian said, not moving any closer to Scar.

Scar dramatically gasped, touching his hand to his chest. “I’m wounded, Grian, that you don’t trust me.”

“I literally watched you set our trees on fire,” he deadpanned.

“Funny thing, that actually was a task,” Scar seemed… nervous. Grian just noticed all of a sudden, Scar seemed nervous about something. “But right now I just want to talk to my good friend Grian. No shenanigans involved, I swear!”

“Alright, alright, but we’re talking here. I’m not following you to your base.” Grian turned, knowing Scar would follow him as he walked into the space he shared with Cleo and Etho.

Grian knew Scar was following by the sound of his cane tapping the path, then the wood. “You know I can’t hurt you outside of a session!” Scar argued.

“That doesn’t mean that I trust you. The rules have been broken before, you know.” He didn’t mean for his voice to get a little sharp at the mention of breaking rules, but it did anyway.

Scar made a disappointed noise, but relented. “That’s fair, I guess.”

They had entered the base, and Cleo, who was working on fixing a tear in Etho’s pants, noticed Scar, and frowned. “What’s going on?” She asked.

Grian shrugged. “Scar said he wanted to talk to me.”

Cleo fixed Scar with a look. That scary look she gives someone when she doesn’t trust someone to not hurt her allies.

“Wh- hey- come on, why’s everyone looking at me like that! I really do just want to talk!” Scar said defensively.

“You don’t have the best track record when it comes to these things, Scar.” Cleo set aside the pants to stare at Scar without risking pricking her fingers with the seeing needle.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Scar lied.

Grian scoffed. “Says the man who conned people out of their clothes multiple times. By the way, where’s Etho?”

“He’s in Bdubs’ bedroom,” Cleo replied, smiling slightly.

Scar looked between Grian and Cleo. “Well, would you happen to know somewhere we can talk without risking someone else listening in on us?” He asked, speaking slowly and carefully.

Grian crossed his arms. “Well, the zombie farm or the enchanter would work,” he started, “but I don’t see any reason to want to talk to you in private.”

Scar frowned. “Come on, I promise, no shenanigans! I just want to talk to you!” He sounded frustrated, and he probably was considering the conversation.

Cleo hummed. “How about this. Scar, if you and Grian talk, and you do any shenanigans, I’ll sick my dogs on you first thing next session.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, no shenanigans!”

Grian considered it. After a bit of thinking, he gave up with a sigh. “Alright, let’s meet at the enchanter. If anything happens, though, I’m telling Cleo.” Cleo always makes good on her promises, so that at least made Grian feel safe.

Scar grinned. “Yay!”

—————

They chose the enchanting set up. That way it would be easier for Grian to run out and shout for Cleo if he felt unsafe.

He was closer to the exit than Scar, who was sitting on one of the bookshelves.

He leaned against the wall and looked at Scar, genuinely curious. “Why did you want to talk in private?” He asked.

Scar closed his eyes. “I’ve been thinking. About past seasons. I… we never really got closure, did we?”

Oh, that made sense. Grian almost felt bad for being so resistant to talking to Scar, now. Almost.

“I don’t think we did,” Grian replied. Scar was fidgeting with his cane.

“Well, I meant what I said earlier. I forgive you.”

Grian gave pause. Scar was forgiving him. After… everything. “For what?” He asked.

“Everything, I guess. For stealing a life from me in Last Life, for… the thing with BigB in Double Life, for killing me… multiple times in Limited Life. I forgive you.” Scar was quiet. It was so weird, Scar’s voice was quieter than he ever remembered it getting, save for whispering whenever he was sneaking around doing suspicious things.

“Even for Third Life?” Grian found that his voice was quieter too.

Scar looked at Grian for a moment, like the question was ridiculous or something. “What would I need to forgive you for in Third Life?”

Grian was incredulous. “Killing you? Two times?”

Scar giggled. “Oh, that? Grian, I forgave you a long time ago.” He paused, before adding, “I forgave you for that first kill pretty quickly. And I was never upset at you for winning that fight. We both said no hard feelings, right?”

Then he said something else. Very quietly- so quietly that he almost didn’t think he heard him. He had muttered something along the lines of “you deserved the win more than me anyway.”

Grian was sure that wasn’t what Scar said. It couldn’t be, right? There was no way Scar thought he deserved to win more than him. He didn’t push it, though. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what Scar had actually said.

Finally, he remembered that he needed to respond. “Oh, so you. Really do forgive me for everything.” He looked down, fidgeting with his sweater. “Why?” He had asked that last question very, very quietly.

Scar was quiet for a moment, thinking about his response. “I think I understand. I didn’t, at first. I… specifically with BigB. Everything else I knew was just how the game was, but when you… gosh, I still can’t say it…” his voice wavered as he spoke. “Anyway, I’m sure you know that the secrets tasks have been causing some… situations. You know, doing bad things because you have to. I- well, you-” he sighed. “I think I realized in session 4, when you… you were so nice to me. You didn’t have to tell me not to remove the helmet, and you didn’t have to keep my secret.”

“Scar.”

“I’m not finished. You- I was so stressed. And you understood. I didn’t think about it immediately, I was just relieved to not have to wear that stupid diamond helmet, by I definitely realized by the end of the session. My tasks kept… my tasks kept putting me in situations I really didn’t want to be in, Grian.” He looked away. He touched his face, and he wondered mindlessly if Scar was crying. After a few seconds, Scar continued. “And I- I sort of gamified it. Like, I’m not actually doing bad things, it’s… well, I treated it like I was only acting like I was a bad person, because technically I was.” He turned to face Grian again. “It’s shockingly easy to justify betraying someone. To justify hurting your friends for your benefit.”

“Scar?”

“I don’t think… Grian, you never meant to really hurt me, did you? I mean, I think you knew that certain things weren’t nice, but you never meant things ro turn out the way they did.” Scar was definitely avoiding looking at Grian. Grian didn’t really mind, he wasn’t sure if he could stand looking at Scar’s painfully earnest expression. He was really putting all his cards on the table. “I understand now. And I still wish you didn’t do some of the things you did, but I forgive you.”

Grian walked over to Scar, and hugged him. He seemed surprised, jumping slightly, before wrapping his arms around Grian too.

“Scar…” Grian muttered.

“If you don’t accept my forgiveness I will cry,” Scar threatened, as if he wasn’t already crying. Grian didn’t comment on that.

“I’m not very good at apologizing, I’ve realized.” Scar chuckled in reply to that. “I’m sorry,” Grian added, “for not realizing sooner how much I’ve hurt you.”

Scar let go first, Grian did the same after a moment and stepped back. “Can we agree to never tell anyone else about this conversation?” Grian asked.

Scar nodded. “Yeah.” He reached for his cane, realizing suddenly that he had dropped it without realizing, and it had rolled away from him. He muttered under her breath in frustration. Grian picked up the object and offered it to Scar, who smiled at him and accepted it, standing up.

“You know this won’t change how we interact during sessions, right?” Grian asked as he wordlessly helped Scar up.

Scar began walking in front of Grian. “I do, yeah. I just wanted to let you know I forgive you.”

Grian smiled. “Alright.”

The two didn’t say anything else as they left the enchanting room. They didn’t need to. They had said “bye” quietly to each other, then Scar left to go to his base.

————

As Grian walked into the base, Cleo looked at him. She had finished her work on Etho’s pants, which weren’t anywhere ro be seen now. Grian assumed they had been returned to him. “Anything happen that I should know about?”

Grian walked over to her. “No,” he replied, “nothing.”

Cleo sighed. She looked Grian over, suspicious. “You sure? You know I will make good on my promise.”

Grian shook his head. “I swear everything’s fine, Cleo. Scar did have something important to talk about.”

“I assume you’re not going to tell me?” Cleo asked as she fed rotten flesh to her dogs.

“It’s… personal,” Grian replied.

Cleo nodded in understanding. “I get it.” She gestured to the staircase, which led to the bedroom they made for Bdubs while Etho refused to shut up about him. “By the way, your wings are a mess. Do you want Etho and I to preen them?”

Grian hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah that would be nice.” He moved upstairs, then avoided the hole from the tnt minecart as he entered the bedroom. “Hey, Etho.”

He looked up at Grian and Cleo. “Hey,” he replied.

Grian sat on the bed as Cleo explained to Etho that Grian needed his wings preened. And then the soothing motions of two pairs of hands running through his wings practically turned him liquid. His conversation with Scar had left him tense without realizing. The reminder of the past that Grian just wanted to put behind him. He remembered now, in this moment, something that he forgot a few seasons ago.

The gentle moments like this, the comfort of people he trusted enough to allow them to touch his wings in the first place, they would always happen as long as he let them. Grian had forgotten how it felt to completely and fully trust. He always trusted his allies, but not enough to let them preen his wings. Not enough to know, in every fiber of his being, that they would keep their promises. The last time Grian let an ally preen his wings was Scar, back in Third Life.

Maybe he could heal. Maybe he could peel away all the layers of distrust and hurt. Just maybe…

Grian realized he was crying, but he found that he didn’t care. He was comfortable and safe and happy. Next session would probably be the last session, on a server full of reds and animosity, the chance of anyone seeing a session 10 was incredibly low. But that would be a problem for later Grian. Current Grian was being preened by his friends, his allies.

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

“hey, ‘sup?”

grian whirled around, an iron sword flashing into his hand. “who— oh. hey, pearl. doing fine.”

“hi,” the cleaning lady greeted cheerfully, her wings fluttering as she skipped the last few steps of the jagged bridge leading up to grian’s base.

“no flying,” grian smiled.

pearl shrugged. “well, it’s break time. the rules don’t really apply right now.”

”yeah, whatever. what’d you come here for?” grian pulled out an axe and started hacking at the wood of the trees he’d been growing nearby.

she hummed a wistful tune and strolled underneath grian’s structure. “nice place you got here. very interesting.”

“it’s an abstract staircase.”

“it’s a staircase, you’re a nutcase, whatever.” pearl turned around to face grian. “grian, i’m not going to beat around the bush here. this life series feels different.”

“what d’you mean?” grian stopped mid-swing, and his grip tightened on the axe.

“i dunno,” the mounder flopped down on the grass, absentmindedly twirling her sword. evidently, she didn’t think it threatening. or maybe she did. ah, psychological warfare. “it feels more… grounded? like, real. with limited, double life… the gimmick felt so out of reach. a timer ticking down your life? your life being linked to someone else? it felt like something that came down from the heavens.”

pearl paused. grian let the axe drop onto the grass and leaned against the nearest tree, folding his arms. “well?”

“but now… it’s so close. it’s so subjective. we don’t even know if we’ve completed our task yet.” here, pearl grinned. “part of why i failed my second task, heh. but i didn’t figure human interactions were really their kind of thing. usually they throw us the idea and we just go along with it.”

“who’s they?” grian asked, the answer already drumming in his head.

“you know. the watchers.” pearl glanced at grian with a strange spark in her eye. “with a literal sculpture of, well, them giving out the secrets? feels more your kind of thing, if i’m going to be honest.”

“so?” grian said defiantly, already seeing the wave of truth about to crash onto his shore.

pearl sighed. “grian, the life game this time — martyn calls it a death game, haha — it’s not the watchers. it’s you.”

grian swallowed, feeling the sun burning his brown hair. he reached up and ruffled it. “i-i may still be a watcher, but i’m…” he hesitated. “one of the good ones.”

“yeah,” pearl rolled her eyes, “they always said that. ‘we’re here to help’. and here to punish if it’s more entertaining,” she added with disdain. “that’s them, eh? don’t really care if we’re happy or sad, as long as it’s fun to watch.”

grian looked up at the sky, and then at the ground, and groaned. “look, i… i thought it would be fun, alright? just a little— a little game. would be fun to watc- play.” he spit out a curse word in the ancient watcher dialect.

“unfortunately, i understand that,” pearl sighed. “is that why? you were so wound up when scar won the hard task. he’d beaten the system— you. you were the system. and watchers hate losing control.”

“i shouldn’t have gone soft on him. humans are so—”

“grian, careful. you’re turning bad again.”

grian stopped himself. “right, right. right. i’m human, scar’s human. you’re human.”

“grian, why?” pearl looked at him sadly. “why did you want to— put us through this two months of torture again?”

the watcher looked at her, pained. “pearl, i… i promised myself, this life series would be better than the watchers’. it would be fun, and goofy. there was even a slumber party, right? most people at your house since double life, i bet.” grian had to admit, double life was a low blow, and he felt bad immediately, but he was defensive and that was pearl’s greatest chink in her armour.

pearl flinched. “what, and forcing people together is any better? creating fake friendships for the sake of a game? having whispers spread and secrets kept between friends who can’t tell or risk eventual death sounds a more watcher than grian thing, if i’d be honest. i’d rather have true pain than false happiness.”

“this series is different from the other ones. i’m not like the watchers at all.” grian protested.

pearl stood up and kept her sword, her wings wavering from anxiety. “it’s different? when compliments aren’t real and people aren’t themselves? that’s good? mumbo built his house sideways because of bdubs’ task. sure, it’s harmless and funny now, but when the ink the secrets are written in turn to blood…” she shook her head. “it’s not going to benefit anyone.”

“i’m a good person,” grian repeated, trying to calm the thumping in his ribcage.

“are you sure? are you really sure, that when this server, this town is painted red, you wouldn’t watch and bask in the glory of the death and blood? you keep insisting it’s different, but it’s exactly the same as every other time.”

because power is what you crave. there’s watcher in your soul, grian. there’s always been and there still is.

grian wasn’t sure where the words came from. he wanted to blame it on the watchers, but somehow he knew it was coming from himself, his mind pleading with his heart.

“pearl, i—” grian’s wrist beeped. “session’s starting. look, pearl, i’m not sorry, it was a good decision—”

pearl shook her head. “i’m not mad, i’m just… well. gotta get back to do my intro.” she walked two or three steps down the bridge, then stopped and turned back. “got a secret to keep?”

and grian’s heart felt the wind whip across it, harshly lashing it as he watched her leave.

always watching.

[hopepetal]

Oh ho hooo hello hello hello! I see you are doing requests????

(I'll trade you, you do a request for me and I'll draw u something u ask me for)

Anyway I think you know who I'm going for

Scar!!! And uhhh reveal of some kind??? You pick. (I love reveals but I think you already know that anfjdjskak)

Hello there!! Here you go :D

Part two of this post!

--

Scar took panicked, gasping breaths as he leaned against his tree, the huge starter base he had built at the beginning of the season. His lungs ached from the strain of pulling in more and more air as Scar struggled to not have a breakdown, failing pretty badly if he was being perfectly honest.

He couldn't stop seeing it, even as he sank down against the tree and hugged his knees to his chest, sobbing loudly as he rocked back and forth. The zombies, not having been satisfied with taking his first world and first life, had snatched away his friend as well. And now he was alone again, because he hadn't been quick enough to defend Grian.

Scar remembered how they had just been jovially walking through the forest, talking and laughing and not keeping their guard up and it was all his fault. He clearly hadn't learnt his lesson from the zombie apocalypse, so now whatever higher power that was out there was punishing him–

And Grian. Grian hadn't deserved it, to be ripped apart by an undead thing. He hadn't even seen it coming, hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye before dying, dying just like everyone else Scar had ever cared for. Now he was gone and Scar would never get the chance to tell him everything he felt. He had always put it off because he had grown soft, had forgotten that time was limited and life was fleeting.

Scar wailed, tugging at his hair as he sobbed, his rocking growing more frantic. His entire body burned as he took in too much oxygen, the panic attack setting in and gripping his chest in a vice. Images of Grian flashed in his mind, sending fresh waves of grief through him. So wrapped up in his sobbing panic, Scar didn't hear his name being called until the person was right next to him.

Scar reacted instinctively, reaching for his gun sword, pulling it out as he swept the legs out from under the person zombie, putting his sword to their throat. Panting heavily, Scar faintly wondered why he hadn't gone for the kill immediately when his vision came back into focus.

“Woah, woah, Scar!” Grian, a dead man walking, was staring up at him with a slight look of concern. Not fear, like he wasn't afraid of dying with a sword at his throat.

Scar's hands trembled as he stumbled back, eyes wide. “You,” he choked out, “how are you alive? How–” He quickly examined Grian, noting the lack of wounds. “You died. You were killed by the– by the–”

Grian slowly sat up, making no move to stand. He looked very confused, but there was a gentle understanding in his eyes. “Scar, this is Hermitcraft. We die all the time here. You die all the time here. I'm perfectly fine, see?” He patted himself down with a kind smile. “No injuries. Just a wounded pride.”

Scar hesitated for a moment, before it all came crashing back. Hermitcraft. Safety, sanctuary, freedom. Living, even after death. His cheeks coloured a bright red from embarrassment as he plopped back down on the grass, letting out a soft huff. “Oh, oh gosh. Grian, I'm so sorry, I don't know...” That was a lie. He knew exactly what happened, exactly why he freaked out.

Grian stood up, moving to sit next to him. “Yeah,” he murmured, “this stuff happens, Scar. You don't need to tell me anything– we all know the rule about backgrounds here. Don't ask, don't pry, everyone has their secrets. But I just want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what.”

Scar paused. He knew Grian wasn't expecting anything. When he spoke next, it was a surprise even to him. “I was in a zombie apocalypse.”

Grian looked over at him sharply, expression turning into a mixture of concern and fear. “What?”

Now that he had started, Scar couldn't stop himself from rambling. “You know hardcore worlds? Those really scary ones– like the life series, you know? Except it was only one life, and, well–” he chuckled bitterly, shaking his head– “it was the zombie apocalypse.”

Grian listened in silence. He was clearly horrified as Scar went on about how he had fought tooth and nail to survive, scrounging for food and resources, all alone in that desolate world. At one point, when Scar's breathing hitched and his shoulders started to shake, Grian put a wing around him, helping to ground the vex next to him.

“–and then the zombies... there were too many. It just. It got to the point where me and my gun weren't enough. And, well. I took my last stand there.” Scar's eyes shone with tears. “I died there. And a part of me died with it.”

Grian recalled how Scar had famously not spoken for the longest time, only first talking to him in a voice that was raspy from disuse and absolutely beautiful. “...oh, Scar,” he murmured, selfish tears of his own beginning to fall. “Can I touch you?” Upon receiving a short nod, Grian reached out and cupped Scar's face, turning his head so their eyes met. “Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me with this, I–” his voice trembled as he spoke, though he tried his best to keep his words steady and calm. “I'm so sorry.”

Scar shook his head, tears beginning to stream down his face. “It's– it's okay, Gri, it's all over now and–” He started crying in earnest, unable to speak through sobs.

Grian pulled Scar into a hug, wrapping his wings around his friend. “It's okay. Let it all out. I'm here for you.” Holding rightly to Scar, he murmured the two most comforting words he could. “We're alive.”

Scar wailed, holding onto Grian like he would a lifeline. “I– I–!” he gasped out, scrambling for the words he so desperately needed to say.

Grian just held him, crying himself. “It's okay. You're okay, Scar. You don't need to force yourself to talk.”

Scar shook his head, hands curling into fists to tug on Grian's jumper. “I–” he tried again, sobbing in frustration as he once again stuttered to a halt. “I– I love you!” he finally got out, and the weight on his chest was relieved. “I love you so much,” he sobbed out.

Grian let out a soft sound of surprise, before smiling through his tears. “I love you too,” he whispered, “gosh, Scar, I love you so much.”

“Thank you,” Scar sobbed, burying his face in Grian's chest. “Thank you...”

The two sat there for a long time in each other's arms, as night slowly turned to day. Eventually, the sobs died down, and Grian felt Scar relaxing and slowly falling asleep. He had exhausted himself with all the crying, and Grian smiled wearily as he gently maneuvered Scar onto his lap. Stroking the man's long brown hair, Grian watched the sunset rise.

Later, they would talk more. But for now, all they needed was rest.

[bluiex]

OK so. convexian. thing.

The idea i have in my brain is sort of this two-part thing where at first this is accidental and awkward, and then the second part is them talking about it and doing like, a purposeful scene involving this (because i think the awkward part is funny)

I don’t really have an idea of how exactly they end up in this situation? One idea was that this takes place in a woodland mansion because that offers an interesting location for a chase scene but I don’t really know why it would be there. [sorry in advance for this i’m not much of a writer im just wordvomiting here]

Idk, i just have this strong image in my head of Grian running from them, feeling kind of… peculiar shall we say, but he writes it off as adrenaline (at least, that’s what he’s telling himself). At one point he feels like he’s lost them, he presses himself against a [wall? Tree? idk?] quietly gasping for breath, ears pricked as he listens for signs of his pursuers. He doesn’t hear anything when suddenly one of them passes through [whatever he’s been leaning on] and pushes him to the ground. Something about the man seems familiar, but he is escaping his grasp before he can think about it. He starts to scramble backwards, only to collide with a solid force behind him. The second one of his pursuers [idk if that’s the best word] leans down and grabs him, restraining his arms as he pulls Grian up, and Grian feels that familiar feeling that he is still stubbornly refusing to acknowledge intensify as he feels his captor’s claws on his skin. 

Blah blah blah other one is there now right in front of him stalking towards him he can get a clear look at him and notices he kind of resembles Cub. Cub is getting closer when then like, he comes a bit back to his senses and is like “??? wait? Grian?” and then tells scar to let him go and Scar’s still a bit out of it so Grian’s just like, abruptly let go and kind of falls to the ground and then Scar’s coming a bit back out of feral vex mode and then they’re both like “omg grian we’re sorry we didn’t realize it was you” and Grian’s like, distracted bc he’s horny and theyre both shirtless right now or something and idk one of them like, notices this eventually and is like “hey uhh grian” but at this point he’s caught his breath enough to be like “yeah no im not talking about this ok bye” and just leaves.

Idk that’s the main thing that’s been rotating in my mind so far.

OOOH DUDE THAT'S GOOD.

Maybe Cub an Scar were off doing business, with some illagers at the mansion, and Grian being nosey snoopy man he is. Follows. Ofc Vex are VERY territorial so when a stranger enters their home.. Well.. They get on Gaurd and chase whoever it is (Grian)

[prismartist]

tumble and collide, a bird in the night

Two evenings, two soulmates, and how Grian solidifies his care.

Ao3

___

The night is lit by twinkling stars when BigB leaves Box. He gives a quick peck on the cheek and a goodbye to Ren before emerging, inhaling the crisp cool air. He looks around, feeling a spike of excitement once he spots a dot of red amongst the treeline. Quickly BigB makes his way over to Grian with a friendly smile, one that Grian returns once he notices. 

“Hey,” Grian greets first, tilting his head.

“Hey,” BigB greets back. “I’m ready for our date,” he adds with a teasing tone.

Grian laughs brightly. “It really feels like one, huh.”

“I feel like I need to hold out my arm or something.”

“I mean, I don’t mind playing along.”

BigB holds out his arm, and Grian latches on. They start their serene walk, heading down the hillside towards the forest.

“There’s a spot I visit a lot that’s really nice,” Grian says. “It’s like a clearing, where you can see all the stars.”

“Well, lead the way.” 

Eventually they find it, a small space where the moonlight turns the grass from a dark blue to a light teal, the breeze sweeping through at a satisfying strength. The dirt isn’t that muddy and the grass is thick, a perfect spot to rest, so BigB and Grian make themselves comfortable in the middle, and watch the stars. BigB makes sure not to sit on the string that trails from his finger. 

It’s a cluttered kind of quiet, scattered sounds of animals and mobs carried on the wind. Everyone else must have gone to sleep by now, if not hunting at night like Etho and Joel or silently stargazing just like BigB and Grian now.

Just over the trees, the Red Velvet Keep looms.

“How are you feeling?” BigB asks once they’ve settled. 

“Like a teenage girl sneaking out to see her boyfriend,” Grian jokes. “Luckily Scar is a heavy sleeper, if the snoring is of any indication.”

BigB falters at the mention of Scar, but asks nonetheless, “How- how is Scar?”

Grian shoots him a betrayed look. “BigB, my rendezvous with you are supposed to take my mind off my universe-assigned soulmate. Don’t you know how affairs work?”

“My bad, my bad,” BigB apologizes, though he grins. 

Grian huffs, but smiles and answers anyway. “Scar is doing well. Looking after the pandas, causing us more trouble… at least he can sort of defend us. Almost makes up for stealing the enchanter.”

“He was basically asking for the siege, when he did that.”

“Yep.”

“I heard he water bucket clutched though?”

“Yeah, and literally made me shit myself,” Grian says with a dead look in his eyes, and BigB laughs. “It was impressive though, I’ll give him that. Like I said, he can defend us if need be.”

BigB hums. “Lucky you.”

“Yeah,” drawls Grian, not helping a little genuinity, “lucky me. But enough about my soulmate, how’s Ren?”

BigB lets out a small, breathy chuckle. “Ren’s great,” he says, “just always sorting out things at Box. He’s still awake actually, a bit buzzed after the kill, you know.”

Grian makes a sound of disbelief. “I still can’t believe he’s okay with us. I’ve always clocked him for the possessive type.” 

“Oh he is for sure, he wasn’t too happy when he first found out, but he’s come around to it, thankfully.”

“Lucky you.” Grian gives a sombre, dry smile.

BigB shuffles a bit closer, and Grian instinctively leans on him. There’s a slight smell of cookies and smoke as the fabric of BigB’s corduroy rustles against Grian’s ear. 

“I’m sure Scar will come around to it eventually,” BigB tries to reassure. 

Grian tilts his head a bit, pressing the side of his lips to BigB’s shoulder. “You know what Scar’s like,” Grian mutters. “I’m going to be stuck in this game of hot potato for the rest of the series. Or, I guess, ‘til one of us is dead.”

BigB looks down at Grian. “Does he know?”

“He heavily suspects. Pretty sure he did since he caught us at Bdubs and Impulse’s. Either that, or he likes to shoot me suspicious glances for funsies.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

Grian tenses against BigB. Even through the corduroy he can feel how chapped Grian’s lips are. “I don’t know,” Grian mutters weakly. BigB wraps an arm around him, and though he’s cold to the touch, Grian is grateful for the comfort nonetheless. “I guess I’m just hoping that we ignore it completely. If he asks me outright then, yeah, maybe I will have a frank conversation with him, but…”

Grian groans loudly in frustration, startling BigB, and ends up rolling onto his lap. Grian looks up with wide, conflicted eyes, their emerald colour glittering starkly against the dark grass. “It’s all so complicated,” he says in that high-pitched panicked tone he often gets, and BigB can’t help but snicker. Grian’s own string brushes against BigB’s hand.  “He infuriates me BigB, he really does, but I just- gahh, I don’t know.”

He averts his attention to the stars, trying to distract himself. BigB runs his fingers through Grian’s hair to comfort him, and Grian shudders into it. 

“You don’t want to hurt him,” BigB fills in the blanks for him. “I get that.”

As BigB strokes his hair, gradually Grian relaxes, his pursed lips parting as he watches the sky. It tends to have that effect. It’s one of the reasons why he likes this spot so much. 

It’s an effect BigB also seems to have, Grian’s noticed. The rhythm of his fingers brushing through Grian’s hair comforts him, smoothing out all the tension in his body as BigB smiles serenely. Even his eyes, Red as they may be, are comforting rather than threatening.

“Who knew picking another secret soulmate while still staying with your actual soulmate could be so hard,” Grian says, sarcastic. “It constantly feels like being pulled in two directions—do you feel that? Giving yourself to two people?” 

“Mhm.” BigB busies himself with a lock of Grian’s hair, twirling it around his finger. He tugs on it, just a bit, to see if he’d somehow feel it too. “Whenever Ren or I take damage and you don’t? It- it sucks. Probably more than it should.”

“It is kind of disheartening,” Grian agrees. “Like, we’re bound, but the universe doesn’t agree.”

“But that’s the point of the secret soulmates, isn’t it? Defying the universe and all.”

The corners of Grian’s lips quirk up. “It is.”

BigB nods, and continues combing through Grian’s hair. “Scar should be able to understand that.”

Grian softens at that, fond. “True. Goodness knows he likes going against common sense.”

BigB chuckles, then purses his lips. “I’m surprised about one thing though.”

“What?”

“I know we’re defying the universe, but I’m surprised that you’re not scared of me.”

Grian blinks. “Why would I be?”

BigB looks upon him, amused. He knows Grian can see how Red his eyes are. “Surely you’ve noticed.”

Grian chuckles. “Well, okay, I was at first, but once we had the catch-up, you know, I knew you were good. We—” he sets a hand upon BigB’s unoccupied one, “—are good.” 

“You of all people should know how being Red works.”

Grian pauses for a moment, trying to deflect. “Well you’re not trying to kill me now, which is nice.”

“Hah.”

“And if it’s of any comfort—” Grian winds BigB’s hand through his, “—if I were to be killed by anyone, I think I’d prefer it to be you.”

Something warm curls up in BigB’s chest, something sickeningly pleased. He still has to get used to the Red instinct; it’s not something he gets to have for long. So needless to say, the way BigB softens at the assurance that he could kill his secret soulmate startles him. 

“I guess it’s only fair,” BigB says, “since soulmates are supposed to… control each other’s lives, I guess. I get control over your life, and…”

He pulls out a strand of hair, incidentally. “You get control over mine,” he finishes. 

Grian hums, caressing his thumb over BigB’s knuckles. “That seems fair,” he echoes. 

“That’s how we prove ourselves as secret soulmates,” BigB jokes, “When one of us kills the other.”

Grian doesn’t smile. BigB’s hit a soft spot there, and Grian knows it’s not intentional, but his tone is still stiff as he says, “Let’s hope not.”

BigB sighs inwardly, remembering Grian’s history with allies. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s not.”

“I mean, if we are leaning into the whole ‘controlling each other’s lives’ thing—” Grian sits up, just enough to level with BigB and look him in the eye, “As long as I can help it, I’d try to keep you alive.”

The Red in BigB gurgles. 

“I don’t know if I can promise the same thing.”

“It’s not about promising. Goodness know we can’t.” Grian scoffs softly and tilts his head, partly in amusement, partly in resignation. “It’s about trying.”

BigB nods slowly. “I’ll try. As long as you do.”

“BigB—” There’s a cold determination set in Grian now, “I definitely will. I could never hurt you intentionally.”

“No hard feelings if we do, though?”

There’s a beat, and Grian moves back to BigB’s side, BigB re-wrapping his arm around him. “No hard feelings.” Grian says it in a dreading whisper. “If worse comes to worse.”

“Which definitely will happen.”

“God, probably. This game’s never been particularly nice.”

“It really hasn’t.”

“But we’ll keep on being secret soulmates—” Grian smiles kindly at BigB, the stars dancing in his eyes, “—for as long as we’re alive.”

BigB smiles back, resting his cheek on Grian’s head. “And once we’re not?”

Grian exhales, relaxing further against BigB. “Then we’ll have all the freedom in the world.”

The night washes over them, casting soft shades of blue and purple. 

___

It had felt good, at first. It really, really had. As the stalactite landed at the perfect millisecond, there was a satisfying crack that sent shivers down Grian’s spine and electricity through his veins. The scream he let out was primal, eardrum-shattering, a Red roaring in pleasure as its lust for blood was satiated. 

Then he had jumped down to inspect the damage, and saw BigB. 

He was sprawled in the doorframe, a crumpled mess, reaching out to Ren who he trailed behind (as he always had). Blood seeping from an invisible wound trickled around his wide-open eyes.

And it’s as if there’s a delayed reaction, a second stalactite that drops onto Grian, the crack resonating in his ears.

BigB was right, in a way. Grian knows well what being Red is like, because he succumbs to it so easily.

Too easily. 

The blood is slick and black-ish on Grian’s hands, like tar. He’s not sure if it’s Ren’s or BigB’s. Well, it’s both, Grian supposes. That’s how soulmates work. Grian slips off the armour, and hears Scar do the same with Ren. He knows they have very different intentions with the loot. The iron is smudged with blood, and Grian resolves to pass by the ravine’s river to wash it off.

He doesn’t pick up the body. He knows it’ll despawn before he can get it to the stone hills. Besides, the adrenaline has left an exhaustion in its wake, and Grian doesn’t much like the idea of cradling BigB’s dead body in his arms. It’s not like they have time anyways, since Martyn’s here, shooing them out of his apparent inheritance—Ren and Martyn still with their bromance, Grian assumes; did they, too, have a secret pact of their own?—, so he and Scar run out quickly, leaving the bodies to rot.

When he goes to set up the grave, Scar doesn’t follow him. Part of Grian is glad that he doesn’t. A part of him wishes he had his company. 

Well, it doesn’t really matter. Either way, they’re going to have a talk. 

It happens just as Grian returns to their little corner of the world, and he sees Scar’s fingers playfully dancing across the cactus. Ah. That explains the pinpricks he’s been feeling since the funeral. That means Scar’s not happy. 

Grian inhales, exhales. He lets BigB’s words—some of the last words he ever said to Grian—guide him as he walks towards Scar. 

“I’m home,” Grian half-heartedly greets.

“Welcome back,” Scar just as half-heartedly says with a stretched smile. “Back from your little rendezvous?” 

“I’d hardly call it that.” Grian sighs as he takes a seat on one of the mounds of dirt. Already the exhaustion of the day and the dread of the oncoming conversation is weighing on his shoulders. They start to ache. 

“Well, you know,” Scar starts in a slight sing-song tone, “what’s past is past. Might as well accept the karma and move on.”

“It wasn’t karma,” Grian snaps, with a startling venom in his voice. His words play back to him with a creeping guilt, and he quickly recoils, casting his gaze to the ground. 

Scar doesn’t turn to look at him. He’s stopped playing with the cactus at this point, but he’s still staring at it. Grian shifts uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” he says. “My nerves are just- they’re just really frazzled right now. It’s been one heck of a day.”

Scar nods, and Grian feels his gut get heavy. 

The sky is orange as the sun sets, glimmering off the cactus.

“I didn’t want BigB to die, you know.”

Grian flinches. “What?”

“I didn’t want him to die.” Scar shrugs. “Sure, I wasn’t happy with the whole secret soulmate thing you guys had going on, but I wasn’t really going to do anything about it.”

“Really?” 

Scar sighs, but there’s no drama to it like usual. Only exhaustion. “Nope,” he says, popping the “p”. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done anyways. I had half a mind to kill him—” Grian tenses, “—but… I couldn’t. I didn’t want to upset you.” 

Something indescribable tightens Grian’s chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.” 

The muscles in Scar’s face tense. “But I just don’t get… why you would do that in the first place.”

Grian leans forward, trying to level his voice. “You know I’ve never liked conformity, Scar.”

“Well yeah, but I just thought that, if you weren’t happy being bonded with me, you could have at least told me. It hurts more if you pretend otherwise.”

Grian furrows his eyebrows. Scar’s eyes have darkened as the sky did, and Grian thinks he’s starting to gain some clarity. “What do you mean?” 

Now it’s Scar’s turn to be startled. For the first time, he looks at Grian with confusion. “Uh, you don’t want to be my soulmate and that’s why you became secret soulmates with BigB?”

“...no?’ Grian’s confusion comes out high-pitched. “I became secret soulmates with BigB because I wanted some freedom and I really liked him. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to be soulmates with you.” He allows himself a small, cheeky smile. “I mean, I have two hands.”

Scar doesn’t respond to the joke, only staring dumbfoundedly at Grian, who swears he could see the rusty cogs turning behind Scar’s Red eyes. 

“Oh,” Scar mutters, and Grian laughs brightly despite himself. 

“Oh man, I wish I had been more honest with you now!” Grian barks out. He holds onto the string out of fear that he might topple over. 

“Wait wait wait, but I thought- I mean, you’re always complaining about me and all, I thought it was related to that!”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Scar.” Grian forcibly straightens himself and puts on some semblance of seriousness. “You’ve caused us more trouble and brought us closer to death more than I would’ve liked, and you’re absolutely infuriating to deal with.”

“Wow, thanks,” Scar says with a sarcastic drawl, but Grian can see the start of a smile tease his lips. 

“But despite all that, I have no problem with you. I’m just used to it, at this point.”

“Th- that’s even less sweet, you know that?”

“Shut up.” Grian grins before sombering himself. “What I’m trying to say is, though I don’t really know why, or how, I’m actually rather… glad, that you’re my soulmate. I care about you, frankly, way too much. And I keep on caring about you, even though I shouldn’t.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to organize his thoughts. “I just… I keep getting drawn towards you, I guess, and out of everyone here, I probably click with you the most. So yeah, I may be unhappy about the fact that your pain is my pain, but I’m not unhappy that you’re my soulmate. Okay?” He gestures desperately with his hands. “You get it?” 

Scar’s softens, letting Grian’s words linger in the air. Grian himself is a little less tense.

“But- BigB,” Scar then inquires. “Why did you still decide to canoodle with him? If it’s just for freedom, then isn’t that kind of selfish, like you were using him?” He gasps, in that comedic way that always amuses Grian. “In fact, if that’s the case, then I’m offended on behalf of BigB right now!”

“Hey now, let’s not get hasty.” Grian raises both his hands in mock surrender. “I just wanted to be with BigB more. And while I admit, there are benefits to having another soulmate, he is just… was just lovely. A change of pace. I mean, you know BigB.” 

“I do know BigB,” Scar affirms, “and frankly I was surprised he was participating in such devious actions behind my back—but I guess now it wasn’t all that devious.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t.”

Grian gets up and walks over to Scar, taking a seat beside him. Scar looks at him as he does, and Grian sees the calculating look in his eyes. 

“I just wanted to care for someone without it feeling forced,” he continues. 

“Forced?”

“Well, what else would you call this whole soulmate thing? The universe literally-” Grian wrings his hands for a bit, “-thrusts someone at you and makes you care about them. And like I said, I do care for you, Scar, I really do, despite everything, but-” Grian sighs. “It feels like I’m being threatened. Like someone’s holding me at gunpoint if I don’t protect you. And you know I don't like being threatened.”

“Yeah, which is why you’re so grumpy all the time.” Scar giggles, and Grian’s heart lightens. 

“Mhm. But while I do want to flip the bird at the universe, I did genuinely want to be soulmates with BigB. Ever since we ran into each other at the start, actually. He’s… kind, and polite, and funny even when he doesn’t intend to be.” Grian giggles at a surfacing memory. “Did you know, when we first met up as secret soulmates, he gave me some misshapen cookies. He claimed they were hearts, but it didn’t look like it at all. Just… lumps.”

A breath of a laugh escapes Scar, and he looks down with a smile. “That does sound funny.”

“Yeah. I did- I do care for him.” Grian brushes his hand against Scar’s, their strings tangling together. “Just as I care for you.”

Scar inhales deeply, and exhales, and it’s like the air settles around them, a decisive atmosphere of understanding. Grian had always marvelled at how easily Scar could control the space around him, trapping everyone in the vicinity under his spell. Every little bit of him—the look in his eyes, his form, the way his mouth is set—showed how he felt and how others must feel, and now, he was showing acceptance, like sand settling.

“They say that some people have a lotta love to give,” Scar says. “Do you think that applies to you?” 

Grian hums. “I dunno if ‘give’ is the right word,” he says. “More like ‘share’.”

“Yeah, I guess that fits,” Scar muses. 

Grian winds their fingers together, and Scar looks down upon their hands, giving Grian’s a squeeze.

“I really wish I’d been more honest now,” Grian says again, casting his gaze to the ground. “I wish I hadn’t treated it like a dirty secret. I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, you kind of already did when you hid it from me. But, hey.” Scar tilts Grian’s head up, and their eyes meet. Though Scar’s eyes are Red, there’s something deep in their intense hue that makes Grian soften.

Just like BigB.

Scar continues, “You told me about it, we’ve got it cleared up, and we’re all hunky-dory now, right?” 

Grian nods, then purses his lips. “There is… something else I feel bad about.”

“Hm?”

“I kinda… left Ren.” Grian winces at the surprised look on Scar’s face. “I only made a grave for BigB. I wasn’t thinking straight—don’t laugh—and I kinda. Forgot about him.”

“You know how close they were,” Scar says, mortified.

“I know I knoww, I want to fix it tomorrow. Make another grave, have a proper funeral for the both of them.” Grian looks up at Scar tentatively. “Maybe you could come with me? Say a few words.”

There’s a beat, before Scar nods and smiles. “Yeah, I can do that. They were plenty nice folks anyway, I can say some lovely eulogies for them.” 

“That’d be lovely.” Grian shuffles closer to Scar. “I don’t think I can bear going up there alone again anyway. It’s too…”

“Guilt-trippy?” Scar supplies.

Grian shoots him a look. “Less poetic than what I was aiming for, but sure.” He looks away, expression shuttering. “I promised him, you know, that I would try not to kill him,” he mumbles. “And I did anyway. That was stupid of me. Really, really-” he chokes a bit, taking himself aback. He panics at the emotion building in his chest. “Really stupid,” he croaks out.

His brain fogs over as he struggles to push down the sob building. He doesn’t want to cry, not now, not in front of Scar-

A large arm wraps around Grian, pushing him into Scar’s side. He lets out a surprised hum and looks at Scar, who looks back with a small, sympathetic smile. They’re both cold to the touch, as Reds are wont to be, but Grian still tries to find comfort in it.

“Let it out,” Scar murmurs, and Grian does. 

They sit there for a while, tears rolling down Grian’s face as he lets out small sobs, and Scar rubs his arm in comfort. The tire and the grief roll out in waves, and when Grian’s done, though his muscles feel more worn, his chest feels lighter. There’s no more ache in his shoulders.

“There we go.” Scar wipes the remaining tear tracks away, the chill from his skin making Grian shiver. 

“Thanks, Scar,” mutters Grian, sinking further into his side.

“Of course.” Scar rests his cheek on Grian’s head. “What are soulmates for? Aside from someone to cheat on.”

Grian groans. “Scar, come on.”

“Aw, sorry, you know I’m messin’ with ya.” He gives Grian another comforting squeeze. 

There’s a moment of silence as Grian calms, and then Scar says, “You know, I’m glad it was BigB that you shared your love with. BigB’s nice.”

Grian smiles. “He is.”

“And at least it wasn’t, like, Joel.”

Grian still sniffles, but can’t help teasing. “Ooh, d’you think he’d make a good secret soulmate?” he muses, feigning seriousness.

“Noo, no more!” Scar wraps his arms around Grian with dramatic protection, making him squeak and giggle. “Wasn’t BigB enough?!”

“Ah, if you really knew me, Scar, you know I’m never fully satiated.”

“Oh, I guess that’s true,” Scar sighs, and starts to detach himself. Grian, however, quickly grabs one of his arms, and keeps it wrapped around him, intertwining their fingers. Scar looks at him, eyes crinkling at the edges with amusement, and Grian beams back.

“Don’t worry about it, Scar.” Grian nestles himself in Scar’s side as the stars start to come out. “I’ll stay with you. With BigB watching over us.”

“Don’t you worry,” Scar replies. “I don’t think I will anymore.”

The stars start to twinkle in the night sky, and the breeze washes calm over the land, carrying with it a cluttered quiet and the scent of cookies.

[thedo0zyslider]

Distraction - Chapter Four: Kill Me Again - 2k Words

Fate is cruel and unjust, a lesson Grian and Scar have yet to learn

A03 Link

Grian moved through the forest quickly, looking for Scar. There was a brief period of peace befalling the server as the day winded down and the sun began to set, and he really wanted to see his…partner? He didn’t know the right word for what they were, all he knew was that he really, really wanted to talk to that man. There were a lot of things about the day that the avian wanted to tell his tall friend

He practically made a beeline for the meeting spot, running recklessly and having to stop himself from crashing face first into trees or stumbling over underbrush at a few points, enough for it to be embarrassing. Grian arrived in the area in record time, clutching the bark of another nearby tree; one he hadn’t almost face planted into. Sharp eyes flicked over the area as he caught his breath, searching desperately until he found the person he was looking for.

Scar was crouching by the river, his whole chest exposed instead of just a part of it. His white shirt was in the water, its owner trying to scrub bloodstains from the fabric. Scar hair was tied in a small ponytail, one that could technically be called a man bun. Most of his scars were on display, stretching over him and making Scar’s namesake very obvious. Water dripped down his skin, and the avian soon found himself a little transfixed at the sight.

Grian stopped in his tracks, his call of greeting dying in his throat. He wasn’t expecting to see such a sight, but the blonde wasn't exactly complaining; he was doing quite the opposite really. His eyes trailed over Scar's chest, lingering just a little. He flushed a little, because Scar did, in fact, have abs and he'd maybe forgotten about them for a moment in favor of his other…assets.

Scar only noticed him when he was done with his chore, seeming a little startled by the avian's presence when he turned around. "Oh, G! Hello there!" He smiled, snapping the smaller out of his thoughts.

"….Hi!" Grian managed to choke out, slowly forcing his gaze upwards.

Scar smirked, taking a few steps closer to the little avian. "Didn't know I was such a distraction to you~" He purred, and Grian flushed a deeper red than before. That man was very quick at catching when he was flustering the blonde, damn him. Grian could never seem to one up Scar in that department, no matter how hard he tried.

"Well, you should by now," He huffed, leaning in closer. Scar just rolled his eyes affectionately, leaning in as well. "Yeah, I probably should.." He muttered, hand going to cup Grian's face gently.

Grian smiled into the sweet kiss Scar gave him, familiar lips capturing his own again for the millionth time. Scar's other hand went to hold the back of his head, calloused fingers gripping at his hair pleasantly. The avain's own hands rested on the brunette's waist, talons digging into bare, scarred skin nicely.

They pulled away after a minute, smiling widely and a little breathless. One of Grian’s hands ghosted over Scar’s abs a little mischievously, just to rile him up a little bit. The taller flushed above him, muttering something to himself that Grian didn’t quite catch. The blonde’s smile turned into a triumphant smirk, Scar leaning down to pepper kisses into his face. He giggled at the feeling, hands moving back upwards to cup the other’s cheeks.

“Now why were you just standing there, hm?” Scar muttered, moving Grian closer to his chest. Grian hummed contently, enjoying how his face rested against the brunette’s chest.

“Wanted to see you.” He muttered, leaning into the taller’s embrace. He felt Scar smile more than he saw it, the brunette cooing about how cute and clingy he could be. Grian didn’t dignify that with a response, and only further proved his partner's point by trying to snuggle up closer to him.

"Sorry about Joel…" Scar muttered after a minute, rocking them both back and forth a little.

Grian hummed in response, the pangs of grief still fresh and tearing at his chest. Seeing Scar that day had been an effort to distract himself from that, to try and bury it more, and so far it was kinda working. "It's fine," He settled on that response after a minute or two of careful deliberation, not really sure what to say in response. Grian was not…. the best at expressing feelings. "I've teamed up with BigB and Pearl now."

The avian knew he'd said something wrong instantly, feeling how Scar stiffened under him. He removed his face from where it was buried in the brunette's chest, looking up to meet now troubled green eyes. "Scar….?" He asked quietly, hesitantly, a little unsure of what he'd said wrong at this point. "What is it?"

Scar blinked, and took a few breaths, as if needed to keep his voice steady. "It's just, ah, its just you and BigB again…after last time"

Oh. Grian thought stupidly, the realization hitting him like a truck. He had sort of…cheated on the man with BigB during the last game, so it was understandable why Scar would be uneasy with them teaming now; especially with their rekindled relationship. Yet the taller's voice was gentle, and held none kd the anger it should realistically have. Grian’s heart swelled at the clear compassion, the readiness to talk and actually have good communication for once radiating from Scar in the moment. That meant a lot, after they had been so terrible at the last one firing their time as soulmates.

Grian moved to embrace Scar property, having to stand on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around the other's neck. "I won't do that again, I swear." He muttered into the crook of Scar’s neck.

"You promise?" Scar mumbled, speaking almost a whisper.

"Promise." Grian said, squeezing his partner tighter. "I'm not interested in B, and I don't think he is either."

"Thanks," Scar hummed in response, sincerity clear in his tone. "Now can I put my shirt back on?" Grian giggled, and let go a little reluctantly. He also decided to not mention that Scar's shirt was still mostly damp from the river water, because it showed off his abs quite a good deal. And Grian was not a man to complain about free eye candy, even though there was a pretty solid chance the brunette had done it on purpose.

The two stayed in their secret little clearing for a few hours after that, exchanging cuddles and whatever other news that came to mind, and the past few days had been very action-filled, so it gave them a fair host of little events to discuss.

Grian slipped away earlier than he normally would that night, not wanting to raise much suspension over his absence. He'd just gotten new allies, and didn't want to risk losing them on day one because he’d stayed out for too long. If the avian thought about it, he was kinda like a teenager, one sneaking off to see his forbidden boyfriend and trying not to break curfew.

Grian kissed Scar goodbye that night, saying a promise to sew him later as he always did. Little did he know that the next two weeks would be full of near death experiences, with no time to rest in between and certainly no time left for secret rendezvous; because traveling during the darkness of the night could suddenly cost you your head. He didn’t know the next time he'd see Scar, he'd have his lover's blood coating his hands once again.

He didn’t know how it happened, really. Grian wasn’t exactly sure how he got to that moment, but he knew he’d do anything to change it, to take it back, rewrite the stars even.

They’d be fighting, a group of them, him and his new allies had been fighting the remnants Clockers over something stupid probably. They always had stupid fights late in the game, deaths caused over something petty. It was just another fight Grian let himself get lost in, that's all it was supposed to be.

He’d come too again when his sword had been stabbed through Scar’s back.

Scar let out a strangled sound in front of him, Grian watching as he pulled the sword out, slicing through delicate flesh and fabric. The avian’s hands were shaking as he did so, and part of his brain was cursing him for even pulling the weapon out in the first place. That was just going to make Scar die faster!

The weapon stopped mattering after that thought, like everything else around them, as Grian crouched at Scars side. He didn’t care that they’d been a little secretive or whatever, or that there were other people around, none of that mattered when there was a bleeding man laying in front of him. Sounds faded into the distance, his gaze focusing on the blood oozing from Scar. Dear god it was so much blood, and Grian’s brain was struggling to find a way to stop it all.

“Scar I’m sorry!” He choked out, placing a firm hand on the wound, trying desperately to apply pressure. He’d stabbed the sword through his lover’s torso fully. There was a hole in Scar’s torso and it was all Grian’s fault.

Scar made a wheezing sound in response, grabbing the blonde's other hand before it could become bloodsoaked as well. “It’s okay, G, really it-”

“It’s not okay!” Grian hissed, voice becoming smaller. He could hardly see Scar’s pretty face now, his eyes starting to properly cloud with tears. “I did it again!” He sobbed, moving to hold Scar in his lap best he could. “I promised I wouldn’t…..It wasn’t supposed to be this way….” He was stupid, stupid, stupid! Never learned, did he? His stupid head was still in that stupid desert, in the stupid cactus ring-

“Hush, okay?” Scar gave a weak huff, as if he could hear the avian’s thoughts, and reached upwards to caress Grian’s cheek, and probably using the last of his strength to do so. He leaned into the touch like it was a lifeline, one of his own hands going to hold the brunettes to his cheek. Scar pressed their lips together gently, one last time. Grian shut his eyes tightly, leaning into the sensation until the weight in his lap was gone.

Scar didn’t have any more time left. He was dead, forever . And it was all Grian’s fault again.

Grian doesn’t know how long he sat there, but it was long enough for the world around them to go quiet. For all of Scar’s allies to either be killed or flee. The blonde just stared downwards, at the ground. Stared at the grass that was becoming stained with Scar’s blood. He stared at his own clothes, his pants, his stupid leather jacket from Joel, and even his bright red shirt stained with Scar’s blood. It was all over his hands too, and the thought made Grian want to bend over and lose his lunch.

He was aware of Pearl and BigB next to him somewhere, behind him he thinks. If the avian focused, he would feel their concerned gazes on his back, and how they slowly moved closer.

"G?" BigB said carefully, going to touch his shoulder. He flinched when Grian recoiled away from the touch, a fearful look in his eyes. The blonde’s pupils were more birdlike than they usually were, stretching so wide you almost couldn’t see the dark, blue-gray color of his irises.

“Don’t touch him, it doesn’t help.” Pearl muttered to him. Sadly, it wasn’t her first time seeing Grian in panic mode, and not her first time seeing him panic well…due to the situation that had just unfolded. BigB nodded, and watched what his friend did instead.

Pearl sat down next to him, barely even touching him. “You okay, G?” She asked quietly, and BigB sat down on the avian’s other side. Grian took a moment, but he gave a shaky nod in response. No

“You want us to get you cleaned up?” BigB asked. Grian managed to nod, only wincing a little. Everything hurt, his vision was blurred with the beginnings of even more tears, and he was close to hyperventilating. The sticky feeling of his blood on his hands didn't help. All it did was make him nauseous, and remind him of how that was Scar’s blood and how everything was his fault-

Everything sort of became a blur for Grian once again, and tears started to fall down his cheeks once more. His breathing quickened as well, chest tightening in pain. Pearl and BigB helped him keep calm, and he leaned onto his newest teammates like a rock . The blonde thinks his brain is trying to block it out, or process it or something; but he did know for sure that Scar was dead and it was his fault . Eventually Grian was sitting in the Froggie Tower, having changed into clean clothes at one point, and breathing for what felt like the first time in hours .

He let Pearl and BigB shove their beds together; making his heart ache for his fallen Bad Boys and mixing horribly with his burning grief for Scar. Grian curled into Pearl that night, BigB on his other side again, and cried himself to sleep as silently as he could; the other two now unable to fill the now gaping hole in his heart.

[wren-kitchens]

well who’d have thought? (ch.2)

okay it’s been like 3 weeks but I did chapter 2 lmao

it’s. not awful

pls reblog!

they make it to the shopping district, and crash-land into a dark oak tree, laughing. grian almost falls out as he rolls sideways, and scar has to grab him before he does. after they’ve composed themselves, they brush the leaves out of their hair and the twigs off their clothes.

they sit in silence for a while, watching out for anyone who might be coming, but there’s no one.

“so.. what now?” grian asks. “we just wait?”

“I suppose.” scar says. “should we like.. cuddle or something? in case someone turns up.”

“sure.” grian budges closer to scar, glad for the thick foliage, and leans against him. he can’t help but smile shyly as he feels scar’s arms around his waist.

grian looks up at him. “how long do you think we’re gonna be here before someone sees?” 

“well, depends.” scar says. “we don’t know if someone’s using a spyglass right now.”

“that’s a good point, actually.” grian says. “i’d say we look pretty coupley.”

scar bends down and kisses grian’s forehead. “that probably helped.”

grian can feel himself blush a little as he feels scar’s arms wrap around his waist. it kind of reminds him of when they were in the desert. the first few nights were cold, and the only way they could stay somewhat warm was by huddling together.

“maybe we should try to come up with pet names.” scar remarks. “you know, like in advance.”

“that’s a good idea.” grian says. “can you think of any?”

“honey, sweetheart, darling.” scar lists. 

“love.” grian adds. 

“that one’s sweet.” scar says. “love.” he kisses the top of grian’s head again.

grian finds himself blushing. “darling.” he grins.

“aw, you’ve gone pink.” scar laughs. “you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“i’m just not used to it.” grian says. “honey.”

“are you just gonna call me random pet names after everything you say to me?” scar says.

“I would if I could think of any more.” grian says.

“i’ve got one for you: songbird.” scar says, sounding proud. “‘cause you’re an avian.” he adds, in case grian didn’t know.

“I like that one.” grian says. “it’s cute.” 

“I know.” scar says smugly.

 grian gives a huff of laughter. “you’re an idiot.”

“I know.” scar repeats, nuzzling his nose into the crook of grian’s neck. “songbird.”

grian feels a weird fuzzy feeling in his stomach and blushes again. “shut up.” he mumbles.

scar laughs against grian’s neck, and the fuzziness amplifies. “you’re adorable.” 

“oh- um. am I interrupting something?” 

they both jump, looking up to see bdubs. he seems quite embarrassed.

“bdubs!” scar says. “hello!”

grian is slightly speechless, thankful for scar speaking first.

“so, the rumours are true.” bdubs grins. 

“ah, rumours?” scar is a pretty good actor, grian has to admit. 

“that you two are finally together.” bdubs says.

“oh, um. there are rumours?” grian’s voice squeaks. it’s just cause he’s nervous, that’s all. he’s never done this kind of thing before.

“yup.” bdubs says. “are they true?”

grian feels his face burning. why is he so embarrassed by this? this was the whole goal of their plan. “yes.” he says.

“ha! I knew it!” bdubs punches the air. “oh, etho owes me so many diamonds. i’ll see you guys later!” he opens his elytra and rockets off, waving.

grian and scar sit in silence for a moment.

“they made bets on us?!” grian exclaims suddenly, causing scar to burst out laughing.

-

“so you found out people made bets on you now?” cleo says when they get back.

“yes! when was I supposed to find out?” grian says. 

“uh, like a year ago.” cleo says. “that’s when they started up again.”

“sorry, again?” scar asks.

“i’m just saying, but that whole turf war thing did seem a little suspicious.” cleo shrugs. 

“I can’t believe we’re only finding out about this now.” grian says. “is there anything else?”

“oh, there’s a lot else.” cleo grins. “but that’s not important right now. did anyone else see you? of course, bdubs will be telling everyone he sees, but it’s better to have more.”

“tango flew by at one point.” scar remembers, chuckling at the thought. “he didn’t stop to talk to us, but i’m pretty sure he saw, cause he looked in our direction then flew into the Entity.”

cleo snorts. “I have to see that.”

“perks of fake dating, apparently.” grian grins. “people fly into things around you.”

“next time we’ll try to film it.” scar assures her. he glances down at grian and can’t help smiling when he sees his grin.

“okay, well, you two lovebirds best be off — i’ve got a base to build.” cleo tells them. the way she smirks at scar makes him think she didn’t miss the way he looked at grian.

“yeah, I have to finish the blueprints for my buildings.” grian says. “i’ll see you later, scar!”

“see you, songbird!” scar calls as grian flies off, laughing as grian falters slightly in the air and flips scar off. 

-

it’s two in the morning, and grian is hunched over the blueprints for the buildings that will eventually be added to the rocks. he’s switched from contacts to his glasses, and regretting that every time they fall down his nose. 

he just can’t seem to get the design right. it doesn’t curve properly around like he wants it to, and he can’t find a good way of supporting it whilst keeping the magical illusion. 

grian knows that, logically, staying up later and later will not help, and sleep deprivation will only make matters worse, but he just can’t tear himself away. 

“g, please go to sleep.”

grian makes a noise between a yelp and a squawk and jumps backwards, his wings puffing up. he whips around to see a very tired looking scar, his long hair tied back and messy.

“jesus scar.” grian breathes, hand on his chest. “you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

scar grins sheepishly. “sorry. I can’t fall asleep until you do; the server sleep thing is glitchy right now.”

grian winces. “ah, sorry. I just- I needed to finish this, but — I don’t know why — but I can’t get it right.”

scar rolls his eyes. “it’s ‘cause you’re awake at 2am.” but he sits down next to grian and pulls the blueprints close to him.

“what’s wrong with it?” scar asks. “this looks amazing.”

“i can’t find a way to support it.” grian says. “not without ruining the affect.”

“you need to support it?” scar asks. “your base is flying rocks.”

grian opens his mouth. then closes it. 

“oh my god.” he mutters. “I forgot. how did I forget my base is magic?!”

scar laughs. “gri, you really have to go to sleep.”

“I will, I will, I just have to finish-“

“nope.” scar interrupts him.

“scar, it’ll just- scar!” grian feels his wings puff up again as scar picks him up bridal style. he flushes, the same weird fuzziness from earlier resurfacing.

“you are going to sleep.” scar tells him, carrying him towards his bed. 

well, it’s more of a nest made out of all the blankets and pillows he could find and borrow (read, steal) from the other hermits. it’s very comfortable.

“i’ll just finish it and i’ll go straight to sleep!” grian says, trying to wriggle free (unsuccessfully).

“nuh, uh, you’re going to sleep right now.” scar tells him.

“i’m breaking up with you.” grian folds his arms as scar sets him down in his nest-bed. 

“yeah, yeah.” scar waves him off, and gets in next to him.

grian’s already warm face heats up even more. “what- what’re you doing?” 

“i’m making sure you actually sleep.” scar says. “because I know that as soon as I leave, you’re gonna go and pass out in the middle of your floor with the blueprints stuck to your head.”

grian sighs. “you know me too well. fine, i’ll sleep.”

scar wraps his arms around grian’s waist, pulling him close. grian finds himself relaxing into it, eyes already closing. 

just as grian starts to drift off, he vaguely hears scar murmur something. he can’t make it out, but a second later he feels a kiss pressed to his forehead. he smiles as he falls asleep, chest warm.

[atherix]

I have voted<3 would it be alright if I requested a hands of fate drabble?

It absolutely would be alright, beloved moot <3 Thank you for your vote <3

Takes place after the story bc I wanted to write them in love <3

--

“Scar! We should really take a break,” Mumbo said, stretching his arms above his head. The box in front of him was half empty now, various knickknacks scattered across the floor. Scar looked up from the box he was rooting through; a feather from one of various cat toys stuck in his hair and all three cats in the box batted at it with demanding mewls, and Mumbo couldn’t resist a laugh.

“Hm? Oh, but I’m almost done!” Scar insisted, tugging a part of the cat tree out past the cats themselves. They yowled in protest. “Got one more piece to get!”

Mumbo scooted over to Scar’s side, leaning forward to steal a kiss. It still sent a little jolt of joy through his system that he could, that Scar was his to love and kiss now. Scar blinked at him. “Come on, love, it’s lunch time. The cat tree can wait.”

Jellie mewled pitifully, as if challenging Mumbo’s words. Mumbo grabbed Scar’s arm and tugged lightly until he finally stood up, laughing at Mumbo’s insistence. “Alright, alright, lunch time,” he agreed, following Mumbo to the kitchen. The cats scrambled to follow, practically attaching themselves to their ankles. “Not for you three, now.”

“They’re used to you spoiling them,” Grian said as they entered the kitchen. He was chopping carrots. “Come over here and help me with this stew, yeah?”

Mumbo wrapped his arms around Grian’s waist and pressed a kiss to his face, earning a laugh and a fond eyeroll. “What if I just want to watch?” he asked, grinning.

“Then no potatoes for you,” Scar said, already picking up a knife to help dice vegetables. Grian stretched a wing out, brushing it against Scar’s own. Scar smiled brightly at him and Grian grinned.

“Oh that is just rude,” Mumbo huffed, letting go of Grian to grab said potatoes. “And here I thought you both loved me.”

“Aw, we do,” Scar said, leaning over and batting at Mumbo with his wing. Grian took advantage to grab Scar’s shoulder and pull him down into a surprise kiss. Scar let out a startled sound but easily leaned into him happily, wings fluttering behind him. 

“Couldn’t resist, sorry~” Grian trills as he pulls back, picking his knife up again to continue chopping.

Soon enough they had a delicious smelling vegetable stew and the cats were demanding treats, targeting Scar specifically as he was definitely the one most likely to crack. Mumbo managed to keep Scar’s focus off of the cats. He may have catapulted a carrot at Scar’s face when he started looking at the cats pitiably, but that was neither here nor there.

Dishes were done quickly and Scar started back towards the boxes, Mumbo half a step behind him, when Grian grabbed both of their shoulders.

“Nap time,” Grian said, forcibly turning them around and pushing them towards the bedroom.

“Grian, it’s two in the afternoon,” Mumbo pointed out, laughing. “We never nap at two.”

“Today’s been a busy day! So much to do, so much unpacking to do,” Grian tutted, wrapping his wings around them both. “I’m tired, and I know you both are too.”

Especially Scar, Mumbo couldn’t help but think, eyeing his lover. “Scaaaar, are you not telling me something?”

“What? No-”

“He’s aching in so many places,” Grian interrupted with a small huff. “He needs to lie down.”

“Scar, you should have told me,” Mumbo scolded gently. “I would have made you take a break hours ago!”

Scar shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, let’s just rest for an hour before getting back to unpacking,” Mumbo said, flopping down on the bed. They had upgraded to a king to accommodate three people so there was plenty of space for Scar and Grian to drop down next to him, shifting around to get comfortable. 

Grian wrapped his wings around both of them and nuzzled his face against Mumbo’s shoulder, trilling softly and contentedly. Mumbo shared a look with Scar, a lazy, fond smile on the other’s face as he pressed closer to them. His own wing overlapped with Grian’s larger, more colorful wing, but Mumbo smiled at the gesture anyway.

It was like having the world’s softest, lightest and warmest blanket over him. He shifted around, careful not to jostle Grian, to lean against Scar’s shoulder. “Love you,” he whispered softly.

“Love you, too,” Scar whispered back.

“Less professions of love, more sleeping,” Grian said, and Scar and Mumbo broke into small giggles.

“We love you too, Gri,” Scar said.

“You better,” Grian said, feathers ruffling. “Love you both, too.”

[rosaacicularis]

i am absolutely TERRIBLE at fic titles so here's some from i am absolutely TERRIBLE at fic titles so theyre from the top of my head or my favourite songs <3 (i cant format them all cute im on desktop ;x;) "soulmates aren't just lovers, you know?", "when the stars are the only things we share", "a recipe for disaster", "fragile lovers can't partake in games" you don't have to do all of em, do with them what u will! cheers >_^

these were very fun to write <3 thank you anon!!

soulmates aren’t just lovers, you know?

Grian and Scar were soulmates, they always had been, no matter the lifetime, no matter the place. It had become an axiom, a truth of existence. It was no surprise the universe had paired them together in a death game where they were bound to hurt each other, kill each other, destroy each other so beautifully. 

“Scar, look at me!” Grian exclaimed, cupping Scar’s cheek to hold him in place. They felt the simultaneous pain of the dripstone falling on their heads. Grian winced, and the realisation dawned on Scar’s face.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. Grian let out a chuckle at the reaction. “Really?”

“What?” Grian asked. “Don’t want to be partnered with me?”

“Just didn’t think I’d get so lucky again,” Scar smiled, Grian’s hand was still on his cheek. 

“I have to say,” Grian started, leaning in. “I prefer it to quite a few others.”

Scar hummed in agreement, their lips brushed against each other. “Oh, but being enemies is fun sometimes. I get to push your buttons.”

Grian pressed a languid kiss to Scar’s lips. He pulled back and rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I am aware.” 

“You love it,” Scar teased, pulling Grian in for another kiss.

“I love you,” Grian offered.

“I’ll take it.”

when the stars are the only thing we share

“I wish you could come with me,” Scar whispered one morning, a careful hand tracing lines up and down on Grian’s arm. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Grian said, cuddling deeper into Scar’s hold. “But they need me down here, and you up there, Mr. Astronaut.”

“I know,” Scar sighed. He loved his job, he hated the sacrifices he had to make to do it. “At least I can always open up a transmission to you.”

“The people who have to sort the call logs will hate us,” Grian joked, looking up at Scar’s face. He brushed a strand of hair off of Scar’s forehead. “At least it’s only a few months.” 

“Back together before we know it,” Scar held out his pinky. 

Grian linked it with his own with a smile, “before we know it.”

It was a phrase they had started telling each other, telling themselves, to make the time apart a bit easier for both of them. It helped them from they got word of Scar’s trip to the morning he was set to to step foot onto the spaceship.

Grian was crying, so was Scar. They already missed each other, despite the fact they were in each other’s arms. “Say the world and I’ll stay,” Scar mumbled into Grian’s ear with desperate longing. 

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” Grian whispered. “You’ll be back before we know it.”

“Before we know it.”

a recipe for disaster

“So, why do you need chorus fruit again?” Grian asked, shooting off another rocket to keep his momentum. 

“For my Cookie Empire, Grian!” Scar repeated, continuing on as they landed on an end island. “I’m making elven kisses!”

“Elven kisses?” Grian asked, crossing his arms and walking up to Scar. “I thought those were Grian Exclusive.”

“Songbird, are you jealous?” Scar teased, pulling Grian closer, taking pride in the small pout on his face. “Tree elven kisses are still a Grian Exclusive, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Grian hummed, “now let's get this over with so that I can eat the batter behind your back.”

Scar laughed, twirling Grian around in his arms. “As you wish, my love.”

Three hours after that, Grian and Scar with both covered head to toe in flour, competitive looks in their eyes. “You started it!” Grian cried out.

“I do not!” Scar argued. “You ate the batter!”

“I told you this, you were aware of my shenanigans!” Grian put his hands on his hips, tilting his head, giving Scar his best scowl. Scar struggled to keep back a smile. “What?” Grian demanded.

“Nothing,” Scar said. “You just look so cute when you’re angry.”

Grian didn’t know if the heat in his face was from him blushing or more anger, “don’t try and sweet talk your way out of this one mister!” 

“Sweet talk?” Scar asked, and Grian realised his mistake. “Would you like an elven kiss to go along with it?”

“That depends, are you talking about the cookie?”

fragile lovers can’t partake in games

“Xelqua.” Voices boomed around Grian as he regained consciousness. The voices were distinct and horribly familiar, the Watchers. “You have lost.”

“I can’t always win,” Grian seethed. He felt thousands of eyes on him, observing and critiquing his every move. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Statistically impossible.”

“Not just the game,” the voice echoed in his mind. “Yourself, those you love.”

“What do you mean?” Grian asked. He mentally replayed his time on the servers, the rush of being red, the thrill of the danger that came with it. 

“You were meant to be resilient, Xelqua,” the Watchers said. “That was the deal, for you to have this power, and yet here you are, broken.”

“I am not broken!” Grian argued, voice hoarse and raw with anger.

“You have hurt everyone you’ve ever loved,” the Watchers started. “You have killed them, yet you pretend you are whole?”

“I am whole!” Grian sobbed. “I am, I am, I am,” he repeated to himself, trying to overpower the voices in his head. 

“We thought we could help, pairing you with Scar, but still you fail, and you hurt, and you kill.”

“I don’t,” Grian tried, he felt smaller than he ever had before. “Scar forgave me!”

“You have not forgiven yourself, the most important part.”

[melon-wing]

KSJDNFJSKFJ

Doc: Grian! You're bleeding! What's your type!?

Gri: Tall... Green skin... Red eyes....

Doc: ...your blood type

Gri: oh, red ig

Aka pls sth funny/fluffy/crack if u want ofc

uwu 👉👈

~���

Sorry this was more angsty than intended and less fluffy, but you know me ♥ ~ Doc was comfortably sitting on a small meadow close to the Hippie Camp, leaning against a tree, eyes closed, enjoying the warm air and the smell of flowers. There was a giggle and Doc couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth twitching upwards at hearing the sound. “No, Ren! I’m gonna do it! I can do it! You can do Scar for all I care!”

Doc opened his eyes for a second in slight confusion, looking over to the group of Hippies sitting in the middle of the flowery grass and collecting said flowers. Deciding that whatever they were talking about had to do with the flowers, he closed his eyes once more. He was glad their little ‘war’ was over. He had missed hanging out with Ren. And Grian tagging along was just a bonus. He did enjoy the little gremlin’s company a lot, even if he’d never say it aloud. Grian was just something else. At first glance he had thought the guy was a prankster and nothing more. A cheery person. But as he had gotten to know the other man, he had realised that there was so much more to Grian. They had gotten into some serious discussions and Grian had always surprised him with in-depth knowledge of different areas. Though sadly, redstone wasn’t one of those topics. Grian always looked at him wide eyed and confused when he got into the technical talk… Which was kind of adorable on itself. And maybe that was the reason Doc brought up that topic as often as he did.

A soft touch against his hair and Doc’s eyes snapped open, looking up into Grian’s smiling face.

“It suits you”, Grian simply stated with a giggle. His blue eyes seemed to shine as bright as the sky and it took Doc a second longer than he’d like to admit to notice what Grian was talking about. He glanced upwards to the ring of flowers that had been placed in his hairs, red and white with different leaves interwoven into it. He smiled softly.

“Thanks.”

He could see Scar a few metres away looking rather flustered, a blue flower crown on his head that seemed to have flowery dog-ears attached to it and yellow flower bracelets that Impulse was putting on him. Those Hippies were really something else.

Doc slowly stood up and Grian followed swiftly. Too swiftly, losing his balance and stumbling into Doc, who would have easily caught him if his foot hadn’t caught on a small root on the ground sending them both tumbling down. He lost his orientation for a moment and then leaned up, looking down slightly dazed. Grian was lying below him, looking up at Doc, though something was weird. There was no amused laugh, no sparkling in his eyes. No witty comment about them both falling down. He seemed to look right through Doc, breathing quickly.

“Grian?” “Don’t hurt me, Sam. Please don’t hurt me”, he whispered, voice sounding so panicked, his whole body shaking.

“I’m not- Grian? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I promise I’ll be good. Don’t hit me again.”

Doc’s eyebrows furrowed, but before he could think about his next action, someone grabbed his arm, pulling on it with gentle force.

His eyes darted to the side, where Ren had grabbed him, worry written all over his face.

“You need to get off him. Your hand is on his throat.”

Doc looked back down again and true to Ren’s words his hand was resting right on Grian’s collarbone, but he hadn’t been putting any pressure on said hand. Nonetheless he quickly pulled away and stood up, letting Ren sit next to Grian, talking softly to him, far too quiet for Doc to catch most of it. Though what he heard was Ren assuring words that ‘Sam’ wasn’t there and couldn’t get into this world. He kept telling Grian he was safe.

It took a good while and Doc walked over to Impulse and Scar to give them some privacy, though he couldn’t help but keep glancing back at those two, Grian now wrapped in an embrace by Ren. He was deep in a half hearted discussion about redstone with Impulse when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned around and looked at Grian, who had a slightly haunted expression, but was still trying to smile.

“Sorry for spooking you like that earlier, Doc.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t know-”

“Yeah. And that’s why you’re not to blame. You couldn’t have known. Just-” Grian’s eyes moved to the side and he looked so small suddenly. He had always been small next to Doc, but to Doc he had never seemed smaller than right now. “My last partner used to get a bit violent. Sam… He hurt me. A lot. Ren’s helping me work through it though. Just… Being pushed to the ground unexpectedly gave me a little flashback. I’m… I’m fine.”

Grian took a shuddering breath and finally looked up at Doc, the smile looking more genuine now, a small blush adorning his cheeks. “I had lots of fun today. I really hope we can do this more often. I enjoy spending time with you.” Grian stopped for a second and his cheeks only seemed to redden more. “With you all I mean. The whole group. Us all together, yes.”

Doc just smiled.

“I love spending time with you too.”

~*~

Doc’s blood froze the moment he looked at his communicator.

Samgladiator joined the world.

Xisuma had never told them about anyone joining their world. And it was only a month until their next jump. New people usually joined when they started fresh. But what really shocked him was the name.

Sam.

He still remembered Grian’s words. About Sam hurting him. The scared look in his eyes when he had thought Doc was that Sam guy. Hopefully he was wrong. There were multiple people called Sam after all. Maybe this was a completely different person. Maybe this Sam had just landed here on accident or to help some Hermit with a farm or maybe-

His communicator beeped again.

<Grian> HELP!

Doc was in the middle of handling delicate redstone for his machine and he knew that if he’d stop now he’d have to start all over again from the beginning. And yet he didn’t hesitate, dropping the redstone cable in his hand and flicking a lever that made water wash over the redstone circuit he had just spent hours building. But if he left it half finished it might blow up his whole base. And there was no way he could keep working on it now. He didn’t even pick up the parts that were floating in little puddles now, rushing to his door, already strapping the Elytra around his shoulders, rockets materialising in his hand as he sped through the world. Where could Grian be? Last Doc knew he had been trying to get his base finished before the world jump. He just hoped Grian was there. He still took a short detour, flying over the deserted Hippie Camp before landing in Hermitville. With one glance to Grian’s impressive build-off house he jumped through the portal.

The air in the Nether was almost suffocating as he sped through, going way too fast through the narrow tunnels. Another beep from his communicator. Doc didn’t pause his flight, still taking it out to look at it and he felt only colder when he read it, even in the scorching heat of this dimension.

Rendog was slain by Samgladiator using <Swordscribe>.

Ren had gone over there to help Grian. Or he had been there from the beginning? Ren wasn’t too bad when it came to fighting. He was certainly better than Grian. And if there was nobody else, that meant Grian was alone now. Respawning could take a while depending on how badly hurt the body had been. Ren wouldn’t be there to help Grian. And Sam had Grian’s sword. Doc almost crashed into the next corner in his hurry to get to the main island. A few rockets later and he had made it, stopping just right next to the portal of Grian’s base and he would have stepped right through it, had he not heard a small whimper off to the side coming from one of the corridors.

His trident immediately appeared in his hand as he rushed towards the sound. He turned the corner and there was Grian. Bloodied and being carried bridal style by a guy with brown hair, who was wearing a pair of white bunny ears of all things. He turned around to glare at Doc which revealed just how badly injured Grian was. He seemed to be barely conscious, blood running from a wound on his head. There was a knife still stuck in his lower abdomen and it made Doc see red.

“Let him go. Right now”, he growled out, his voice being accompanied by a slight hissing sound as his creeper side became ready for a fight as well.

The guy - Sam - seemed to be annoyed by the disturbance, his hold on Grian tightening for a moment, making Grian groan in pain.

“Told you, you should have been quiet, babe. Now look at what you did. Another one of your friends I have to kill.”

Grian blinked a few times, looking off to Doc, finally noticing him, and then he seemed to sigh in relief, even smiling softly. “Doc… help.”

Sam didn’t seem to be too happy about that and with one calculating glance at Doc’s weapon he just threw Grian down, causing the bleeding man to cry out. Sam didn’t seem to care, stepping over Grian, a sword in hand, and while doing so making sure to step on one of Grian’s hands that was sprawled out on the ground.

Another pained scream, a delighted smirk on Sam’s face and Doc couldn’t hold back anymore. He charged forward. Sam had to hurriedly hold up his sword to be able to block the attack in time and was put on the defensive, which made it easy for Doc to push him away from Grian and avoid a situation where the other Hermit could be taken hostage. Sam really had made a mistake dropping his one and only advantage in this fight.

If he had expected Doc to go down easily he had been mistaken. Doc wouldn’t stop. His creeper side screamed for revenge, for blood and he let himself give into the desire. He knew by the way Sam’s eyes widened that his human eye - usually a warm brown - had turned to a bright red as well. He threw his weapon and it grazed Sam, blood seeping from a cut. The second the smell hit Doc’s nostrils he let out a low hiss, all his muscles tensing even more.

Sam seemed to think he was at an advantage now, trying to charge at Doc, but with a simple flick of Doc’s hand the trident returned, piercing his opponent's back, making him stop in shock. Doc used the moment to call up his own sword, which wasn’t his prefered weapon, and yet the need to draw blood from Sam made him choose it over another trident.

Sam never really stood a chance against the superhuman reflexes of a Creeper-hybrid during bloodlust. He kept slashing. Again. Again! AGAIN!

Sam could barely defend against the onslaught of attacks now, only managing to block every other attack, more and more hits coming through and inflicting countless wounds, the trident still sticking out from his back. And when he stumbled the predator in Doc seemed to pounce. With a slight smirk he grabbed Sam’s shoulder and pushed him against a wall as hard as he could. The wall hit the end of the trident and pushed it straight through the other’s body.

“Leave Grian alone. Or I will make sure you respawn into an endless death cycle.”, he growled quietly as Sam’s body disappeared in a cloud of green and yellow sparkles. With how badly injured he had been it would take a good while for him to be able to respawn. Enough time to get Xisuma to ban him.

Doc took a shaky breath, the smell of blood still lingering all around him. The creeper inside him still demanded more. More blood, more death!

But a small pained whimper chased his non-human side away in a split second, his eye turning back to its usual colour. He let his sword disappear and rushed to Grian.

The smaller Hermit was in a bad shape and Doc didn’t have any Health Potions on him. He was pretty sure Health potions weren’t even available right now, after the whole mess that their little Demise Game had been. But they did have other ways to treat wounds like these.

He rushed to Grian’s side, carefully picking him up and messaging Xisuma. It didn’t take long for them to be teleported into their medical bay, where he gently sat Grian onto the bed. He got out a few medical supplies and with the help of Xisuma carefully pulled out the knife, making fast work of stitching the wound up and putting bandages onto it, while Xisuma left in search of some potions Grian kept staring at him through slightly hazy eyes.

“You’re gonna be alright”, Doc assured him as he wrapped up Grian’s headwound carefully.

“Respawn ain’t the worst”, Grian replied, his words slightly slurred and he seemed to be really out of it, which wasn’t too surprising with the amount of blood he had lost.

“I don’t want you to respawn. It hurts even more than those injuries.”

Grian didn’t reply and Doc went on patching him up. Xisuma had a few blood replenishing potions in his hands.

“We don’t have any healing potions, I messaged Stress and she says it’ll be a few hours until she has them ready.”

Doc nodded, turning to Grian who kept smiling up at him tiredly through all of this.

“Grian. What’s your type?”

Grian giggled softly, before carefully sitting up as he raised a slightly trembling hand, putting it onto Doc’s cheek, caressing it gently. “Tall. Handsome. Red eye, green skin, brown hair and good with a trident.”

Doc felt the heat rising to his cheeks and it took a lot of self restraint not to lean into the touch. Now was neither the time nor the place.

“I meant your blood type, Grian.”

“Oh…” Grian giggled again, looking upwards a second, pondering his answer. “Red. M’ blood’s red. Just like your eye. Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?”

Doc could feel his heart skip a beat and he needed to take a breath to gather himself again. He gently pushed Grian’s hand away from his face.

“You lost lots of blood. We need to get the right potion into your system.”

Grian scrunched his forehead up a bit and it was the most adorable look Doc had ever seen on his face, even though he wished he had gotten to see this under different circumstances.

“I don’t know. I never needed to know. I’m a watcher. They do magic. No need for potions. Did I ever tell you that? I’m a watcher.” Grian giggled again and took Doc’s hand that was still on his, looking at it intensely and gently caressing it. “I see the strings. They’re red like your eyes. I like red.”

Doc still looked at him in confusion, not getting any of that rambling until Xisuma spoke up softly, his voice sounding slightly shocked.

“You can see the strands of fate?”

Grian tilted his head to the side and smiled before nodding.

“Yours connect to us all. It’s so weird to look at you. So many strands. But all of them are purple. I like it. It’s comforting.” He glanced back at Doc’s hand and his own. “Ours is red. Did I tell you that I like red? It connects us. I like that.”

Doc looked from Grian to Xisuma with a hint of desperation in his eyes now. “X. The potion.”

Xisuma seemed to be startled out of his musings before nodding. “Of course. Sorry. Give him this one then. Most likely to work.”

Doc took the bottle and uncorked it, pressing it against Grian’s lips who drank it without any hesitation. The moment he finished the potion his eyes fluttered and closed as he sank against Doc’s chest, breathing softly. Worriedly, Doc checked his pulse, but everything seemed to be in order. There was even some colour returning back to Grian’s pale skin.

“He needs to rest. I put in something to help him sleep”, Xisuma explained softly, “I’m gonna go to the other room. I still need to figure out how that guy got in and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Will you stay here?”

Doc nodded. He would have stayed here even if Xisuma hadn’t asked. Nothing could make him leave Grian alone right now. He needed to stay and make sure he was alright. He looked at Grian in his arms and made a silent vow that he’d always protect him from anything that might try to hurt him. He never again wanted to see Grian like this.

A few hours later, Grian awoke with a pained moan that made Doc jump from the chair he had been sitting on, rushing to his side, a healing potion in his hand that Stress had dropped off. He immediately put it against Grian’s lips and Grian drank it up. There was a soft glow around his body and Doc knew from experience that the wounds would slowly be closing now. As if to prove that assumption, Grian slowly got up into a sitting position.

“You alright there?”

Grian nodded, opening his eyes to look at Doc. It took a few seconds, but then he seemed to remember what happened earlier, his whole face lighting up as bright as a beetroot, hiding it quickly behind his hands.

“Oh god I behaved like an idiot.”

Doc chuckled softly, feeling a slight warmth in his face as well.

“It was kind of sweet. Though I would have liked to hear something like that under better circumstances.”

Grian just nodded, face still hidden behind his hands.

“Sam?”, he asked, voice trembling slightly.

“Xisuma banned him. There’s no way he’s coming back.”

Grian seemed to relax a bit at that, his shoulders no longer tense and his face softening up a bit. Or at least the part that Doc could see behind the hands.

“So”, Grian started, peeking out in between his fingers, still looking so adorably flustered. “You said you wouldn’t mind hearing the nonsense I said again, right?”

Doc just nodded, eyes darting off to the side for a second in slight embarrassment.

“Doc.”

He made a little grunt.

“Thanks for saving me.”

Doc nodded and when a soft hand touched his face he let his gaze move back to Grian who was still looking a little flustered, but was smiling again at the same time. “So I think I told you that you were my type. What about you. What’s your type?”

“AB negative.”

Grian blinked a few times, before bursting out into laughter. It was so infectious, Doc couldn’t help but smile too.

He leaned forward until their foreheads touched and it stopped the laughter immediately, big eyes looking right back into his.

“My type is little blonde pranksters with eyes as blue as the sky and a smile as bright as the sun. My type is that one guy that loves to annoy me and even though I pretend I hate it, I love every second of it. And I think I love that guy.”

“Funny. That guy sounds kind of like me.”

Doc huffed in amusement and then moved even closer to Grian until their lips were touching in a soft kiss.

[jungledubs-archive]

:eyes: for the prompt thing maybe ahasbands and gardening?

Mumbo flexed his fingers, looking at the gloves warily. "And you're sure they'll keep my hands from getting dirty?" he asked, glancing down at where his husband was already kneeling on the ground.

Martyn rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mumbo, and even if you do get some dirt on your hands, you can always wash them." He reached up and grabbed Mumbo around the waist, before quickly yanking him off his feet. "Now come help me, you spoon."

"Ack!" Mumbo scrambled to not land face-first in the dirt and ended up knocking soil everywhere, making Martyn giggle. "Martyn! Please!"

"With how much redstone you do, I would've thought you didn't mind getting messy," Martyn commented as if nothing's happened, while passing Mumbo a weed remover. "You take this little guy and get rid of anything you can see. I'll handle the big boy."

The 'big boy' in question was a particularly large growth of buckthorn that had taken over the area multiple years previous. Martyn wanted to get rid of it, and Mumbo had (tentatively) agreed to help. Looking at the prickly branches and thick trunk, Mumbo wondered how Martyn was going to remove the whole thing by himself.

"I'll dig out the bottom and try to pull it out," Martyn explained, as if he could read Mumbo's mind. "That's where you'll come in. I don't think I'll be strong enough to get it myself."

"And you think I'll be able to help?"

Martyn's hand settled on Mumbo's upper arm. "Mumbo, everyone knows you're stronger than you let on. Grian did tell me about that arm-wrestling match with Impulse." He gave a quick squeeze and flashed a grin. Mumbo turned red.

"I- no- look- Martyn- I got lucky," Mumbo spluttered. "Impulse let me win- he's a demon- he could've crushed me if he'd wanted to-"

Martyn seemed to ignore him. "Anyway, if we don't get started soon, it'll be midnight by the time we get this thing out. You clear out the other weeds, I'll dig, and with any luck it'll be gone in no time."

Mumbo sighed.

But Martyn's prediction was correct, and it wasn't long before Martyn was standing up and dusting his hands off, looking at the now-exposed roots and sizing up his floran competitor.

"Why don't you- you give it a go on your own, and then I'll help if you need it?" Mumbo suggested, not wanting to admit that he was tired just from weeding.

"Yeah, alright." Martyn rolled up his sleeves and bent over, grabbing the trunk of the small tree with both hands. He gritted his teeth and pulled, and Mumbo felt his face turning red again as he saw the muscles in Martyn's arms strain against his skin.

Mumbo turned away, embarrassed, but that only seemed to draw Martyn's attention. "Mumbo?"

"Oh- just-" Mumbo stood up abruptly and shuffled over to join Martyn next to the plant. "Let's just- just go."

Martyn grinned, but didn't say anything. On the next tug, it budged a little bit, and Mumbo strategically avoided looking at Martyn. It moved more on the next pull, and the next, and the-

Thump.

The first thing Mumbo processed was that he was laying on his back, and his head was in the grass, which meant that his hair was going to be full of dirt until he could next take a shower.

Then he realized that Martyn was basically on top of him.

“Hello,” Mumbo breathed.

“Hi,” Martyn replied.

Martyn had very nice blue eyes, Mumbo thought. They were warm, like a summer sky, and he thought he could stare into them forever- and he would have, if Martyn hadn’t closed the gap between them and kissed him.

Mumbo leaned up a bit and let Martyn shift him into a sitting position, then rested his hand on Martyn’s back. The kiss continued, gentle and affectionate, until one of them—Mumbo couldn’t tell—broke away for air.

“So, what do you want for dinner?”

Mumbo had to laugh. “Did you just kiss me and then ask me what I wanted for dinner?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, it’s a good question.” Martyn grinned. “We’ve got pasta, and chicken, and-”

“Can we just get this tree out of the way first?”

It was Martyn’s turn to laugh. “I thought you were going to ask if I would kiss you again,” he said.

“Well- yes, that too.” Mumbo smiled. “But the tree first.”

Martyn snorted. “Alright, alright, tree first.” He let go of Mumbo and stood, then extended a hand to help his husband up.

Mumbo took it, and before Martyn turned away, he pressed another kiss to Mumbo’s cheek. “You go inside and choose what we’re having for dinner,” Martyn said.

“Potatoes,” Mumbo decided instantly, refusing to let go of Martyn’s hand.

“Again?”

[no-oneknowsmyname]

I have Thoughts about session 7 and a particular couple. That, and paired with seeing this art... I had to get it out in a quick fic.

Please note that this is about characters, not the ccs. If you have trouble separating a roleplay character from a YouTuber, that's on you.

----

Something was different about last life, and Etho wasn't sure if the differences ended or began with Bdubs.

.

All he knew was that there's the smell of moss in his nose... sticking to his clothes, scratching his bare arms.

.

The campfire was hot, but the night air chilled him to the bones anyways. Last Life always seemed colder than any other server he'd been on.

.

Until now, Etho at least always had Bdubs to chase away the chills.

.

Now he was alone, clutching the only thing he had left of his love, pressing his face into the mossy texture of the blood stained jacket, wondering when death began to hurt so badly.

.

He was a bit of an old soul. He was about as old as they came. Permadeath had never been something to worry about, because he'd been around longer than even the bare concept of dying and losing a world.

.

He never understood it.

.

He thought this would be no different.

.

He should have learned from 3rd Life. He should have taken more into account the way his friends acted even after Grian won last time.

.

The distant look in their eyes. The clinging to each other; like they were afraid of the other dying and not respawning. Etho continued like normal, never voicing his thoughts on their new and odd behaviors. If Grian wanted to spend every hour following around Scar at an arms distance, then that was his business. If Ren wanted to put up red banners in his base and tread carefully around anyone with a sharpened blade... then that was fine with Etho. He didn't get it, because death was normal to him, and while he never lost a world quite like 3rd Life before, he didn't have anything particularly interesting tying him to that world anyways besides a burning dark oak tree.

.

This time was different. And he still didn't know if it started or ended with Bdubs.

.

When did he start getting it?

.

Was it when he looked Bdubs in the eyes that first night, knowing that betrayal was about to appear at whole knew levels? Or was it when he breathlessly escaped down into the caves with people who were never his friends... only to read the words Bdubs was shot by Grian like a punch to the gut?

.

Somewhere in between? Maybe when Bdubs went red the first time and Etho couldn't bring himself to kick him out... choosing rather to split the base in half even though it meant that not even home would safe any more because—at the time—having a bloodthirsty red life living next to him seemed easier than telling Bdubs to go?

.

Or maybe somewhere else along the way?

.

He didn't know. He couldn't bring himself to think too much about the past few weeks... Not without making his stomach hurt.

.

So he sat there, clutching Bdubs's moss jacket that he risked his green life to find after things had finally calmed down, trying not to fall apart as the others also sat around the fire... perhaps all lost in their own grief and thoughts. Martyn and Pearl had joined them in their little safe spot a bit ago, completing their group of those who made up the prey of this world.

.

Martyn, the last of the southerners, sat next to Etho, silently turning a scratched up spyglass in his hands.

.

Pearl and Scott, leaning against each other, perhaps one of the last and true bonds in this world that betrayal and blood hadn't torn apart, sitting side by side like the other is the only thing left anchoring them to sanity.

.

Ren and Cleo, talking in hushed whispers, maybe putting aside differences in favor of survival... discussing anger and regret and fear and apologies.

.

How many would still be here next week? Would Etho still be here next week? Would Scott and Pearl still lean so trustfully against each other, or would they be at each other's throats for blood? Would Cleo speak with a voice so genuine and soft, or would she scream and curse as she's betrayed yet again?

.

They were dying breed. What was Etho thinking?

.

Animals lined up for slaughter.

.

For the first time in Etho's long, long existence, he was afraid to die.

.

Something was different about Last Life, and Bdubs was... the beginning... the end?

.

And the silly thing was, Etho knew he'd see his husband- his partner- his friend again. They'd never see each other again in this world, but in another? No question about it.

.

But he knew it wouldn't be the same. This server... It changed you.

.

Whatever Bdubs was waiting for him in some other world... it wasn't his Bdubs. And after this? Etho wouldn't be his Etho either. He knew this because Scott and Jimmy hardly talkef, but Scott still looked sadly at flowers. He knew this because while Ren and Martyn were in this same clearing, they were not beckon and call to each other's side. He knew this because when Bdubs died for good, Cleo mentioned how good of a teammate he was, but with a far away look in her eyes like she was talking about someone else entirely.

.

His Bdubs was dead. Etho would never see him again. Not in this life. Not in the next one. And when Etho dies, this version of himself would be gone for good too. They'll meet each other again, but they won't be the same people, and Etho will forever regret not having longer to spend with this version of Bdubs... the man he fell in love with but apparently not in love enough to give his own life for.

.

He thought Bdubs would get a life back. But somewhere at the back of his mind, he might have thought that something would work out and it wouldn't be his life. He hesitated when Lizzie died, terrified of what caused it, but before he could return the same trust in Bdubs that he had in Etho... he died. It was Etho's fault.

.

Bdubs was gone because Etho wanted to win. It was all his fault. It must be. The blame couldn't fall squarely on Grian... could it?

.

His head hurt. His heart hurt. Last Life was different and he couldn't help but feel fear because Bdubs started it, and he ended it, and now Etho was empty and numb, doing nothing but blindly following around the others, unsure if this was even worth trying to win anymore.

.

He didn't want to think about it.

.

He held Bdubs's jacket to his face and weeped.

[heckpup]

My contribution to the Whitelisted AU by @petrichormeraki !!!

Mostly Ranboo stuff bc I love him and his stream last night broke my heart into pieces.

Edit: I added the “Keep Reading” thing!

— — —

Ranboo’s part Enderman. Being half of a hostile mob got him into a lot of trouble when he was younger, at least he thinks. That’s generally the first reason he doesn’t tell people what kind of hybrid he is right off the bat to people he meets.

Its not that hard to guess, anyway. Better to not confirm their suspicions and live a bit longer.

Being half-ender, he can teleport without the use of enderpearls. Its a little bit harder than just throwing the pearl, and he has a limited amount of teleports within a small period of time before he has to wait and “recharge.” If he tries to teleport before his cooldown period is over, then its a gamble where he’ll end up.

After a run-in with a village, he decided to never try it again, even if it is a fun adventure, not knowing where you’ll end up.

— — —

He’s in the middle of his cooldown period when he’s cornered by Dream. Dream wants, no, needs Ranboo, he says, to teleport into a prison for testing. A prison? Ranboo doesn’t like the sound of it. He can see it looming in front of him as Dream leads him closer.

Ranboo’s never been good with peer pressure, but if Dream doesn’t give him 30 minutes (Ranboo got unlucky too quickly. The faster the teleports, the longer the time), he won’t know where he’ll end up. It could be Niki’s bakery, it could be the Community house, it could be another server, for all he knows! (Its happened before. Not a good day for Ranboo.)

Dream is still pressuring him to teleport. He keeps getting closer, and he sounds like he’s getting angrier and angrier.

Ranboo tried to explain! He tries to tell Dream that he can’t teleport right now, and Dream just writes him off!

“You’re half Enderman, how can you not teleport?!”

“I can, but I need some time!”

“Bullshit! Teleport into the prison! Now!”

Ranboo complies quickly, if just to get Dream to STOP YELLING AT HIM.

— — —

He doesn’t know where he is. The middle of a jungle he doesn’t recognize, bamboo surrounding him. He can see a path, and an old minecart track. He looks down at his communicator as a barrage of messages gets sent. He slides to the ground, leaning against a tree.

R̷͎̀̑̋̿a̴̳̣̓̓n̸̗̈̄̉b̷̭̬͕̫͝ó̷̧̳̲̮̽o̴͓͑͝ entered the server!

Grian: what

Grian: who is that

Grian: X did you white.ist someone new?

Xisuma: no

Grian: who is that then

Xisuma: I’ll go check it out

Suddenly there’s a person in front of him, with a mask-!

Ranboo can’t breathe, mask, someone who could teleport like h i m. There were no particles, so they used ADMIN CODES-

Dream was going to yell at him for not doing it right, he knows it. He covers his ears in anticipation. He couldn’t take any more yelling right now, no yelling, no pressure, no yelling, please don’t yell at me, please Dream don’t yell at me I didn’t mean to teleport away from the prison I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please just don’t yell at me-

There’s a hand on his shoulder, and he almost teleports, before he realizes that the hand isn’t Dream’s. It’s too gentle, and its not pulling up roughly like Dream inevitably would after he did something wrong.

He had done something wrong.

“Kid?”

That’s not Dream. It’s not Dream, where is he? Where did Ranboo end up this time? How far is the SMP? How far is L’Manburg?

Faintly, Ranboo can hear running. He can hear a swoosh and some fireworks that didn’t explode. He can hear people, more people, coming closer.

He can’t bring himself to look up again.

There’s some yelling, a “Bitch Boy” thrown around, and then a gentle “Ranboo?”

Ranboo can only shake as he looks up at TommyInnit and Tubbo, tears in his eyes. He wants to hug them both, they’ve been gone for so long where did they go? Where is he?

All he knows is that they’re alive, and that means that he’s away from Dream.

He’s safe. Teleporting randomly had finally come to help Ranboo.

Ranboo is part Enderman.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Hey so, you know that whole 'Red's get innate bloodlust' and how Jimmy doesn't reaaallllyyy seem to have that? what if for some reason or other, maybe it's a glitch in the system or a trick of the gods, All of Jimmy's bloodlust and rage are actually felt by Scott. Green life Scott. ;) do with this what you will <3

oh my gosh this was so much fun to write! such an interesting concept!! :D

…

Grian is sorting through some chests in his house when he hears someone enter the room. Glancing up, he’s a little surprised to see Scott standing in the doorway, hands clasped together awkwardly. “Hey, Grian,” he says slowly. “Sorry for intruding. Have you got a minute?”

Closing the chest, Grian nods and stands up. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“Um…” Scott leans back against the wall, arms folded. “So… you created this server, right?”

“I did, yeah.”

“Then hopefully you’ll have an answer to this,” says Scott. “I know there’s supposed to be this thing where red lifers feel some kind of bloodlust towards greens and yellows, but Jimmy doesn’t seem to be feeling it at all. We tried to activate it a couple of times but we got nothing. Then… there was kind of a… an incident.”

“Incident?” echoes Grian. “What kind of incident?”

“An attempted murder kind of incident,” Scott says slowly, “which Joel was lucky to escape with his life from.”

Grian cocks his head curiously. “What triggered it?”

“I’ve no idea. As far as I recall, everything’s fine one second, then suddenly, Joel’s on the ground bleeding from the neck. It was absolutely terrifying.”

“Oh, geez…” Grian frowns. “What was Jimmy doing right before it happened?”

“What?” Scott stares at him for a moment. “No, not Jimmy. Me.”

Grian’s eyes widen. “What? You?”

Scott silently holds out his hands, showing the spots of dried blood on them.

“Oh my god… Is that…?”

“Yeah. It’s Joel’s.” Scott takes a deep breath. “What do I do, Grian”?

“Firstly, tell me what happened,” Grian urges. “Tell me everything.”

“Okay.”

…

“It’s not working,” Jimmy complains. “I know I said I don’t want to feel bloodthirsty like the other reds but it’s weird that I’m the ONLY one who doesn’t seem to feel it. I don’t wanna be the only one.”

Scott gives his friend a thoughtful look. “This is bizarre. We’ve tried everything I can think of and yet it still hasn’t happened.”

“Hey, guys.”

The two look up to find Joel sauntering up the hill towards them. “How did you get in here?” Scott asks. “The gate’s locked.”

“I broke through the wall.”

Scott sighs. “‘Course you did. What do you want?”

“I just wanted to come up here and see what you’re up to,” says Joel. “I could see you from over there and what you were doing looked really strange.”

“We’ve just been trying to activate Jimmy’s red life bloodlust,” Scott says. “For some reason, he doesn’t feel the same urge to hurt or kill people as other red-lifers do.”

Joel grins. “Does that mean you don’t feel the urge to attack me when I do this?”

He shoves Jimmy, who stumbles back and almost trips over his own feet.

“Don’t do that,” Scott snaps, reaching out to steady his friend. “That’s mean.”

“Oh, am I being mean?” Joel proceeds to push Jimmy again, actually knocking him down this time. “Sorry about that.”

As Jimmy slowly climbs back to his feet, Scott moves in front of him, a steely glare on his face. “Joel. Stop.”

“I’ll stop if he proves he’s worthy of the red name and attacks me.”

“W-Worthy?” splutters Jimmy. “I never asked to be red!”

“I need you to leave, Joel,” Scott says firmly. “Before one of us does something we regret.”

Still grinning, Joel pushes Scott.

Something inside Scott snaps. Overwhelming rage surges through him. Teeth bared, he tackles Joel to the ground and rakes his nails down Joel’s neck, the urge to maim and kill only growing stronger as blood leaks from the cuts he’s creating.

His hands close around Joel’s neck.

“SCOTT!” comes Jimmy’s terrified scream from behind him. “SCOTT, STOP!”

Scott freezes.

Taking advantage of this, Joel sinks his fist into Scott’s stomach and shoves him aside, before scrambling to his feet and taking off into the trees.

Winded by the hit to his stomach, Scott shakily rolls onto his side, intending to push himself to his feet, but freezes again when he spots the blood on his hands.

“Scott!” gasps Jimmy, dropping to his knees beside his friend. “Are you okay?! What happened back there?!”

Scott can’t answer.

He has no idea.

…

“I sent Jimmy home and came straight here,” Scott finishes. “Grian, I-I was terrified. I still am. Why is this happening to me?”

Grian has been listening to Scott’s story with concern and interest. “Aside from being kinda horrifying, that’s also pretty interesting. I mean, you’re definitely the only non-red experiencing that kind of bloodlust. I’ve seen it in Scar and even Skizzle before but never Jimmy or a non-red.”

“I guess the first question would be why I’M the one out of the two of us being affected by this,” says Scott, “considering Jimmy’s the red lifer, not me.”

“Exactly. The only thing I can think of that’s more unusual about Jimmy’s case than the other reds’ is that Jimmy went from green to red a lot faster. Normally, it takes a little while for the server to register the change in a green going to yellow and a yellow going to red, but in Jimmy’s case, he went from green to red so quickly that maybe the server glitched and didn’t fully complete his transformation to red.”

“What, and you think the red-life bloodlust thing went to me by accident instead of Jimmy?” Scott asks.

Grian shrugs. “It’s a possibility. Honestly, I can’t really think of anything else it could be. I’ll do some investigating but it’s highly likely I won’t be able to undo this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno if it’ll carry through to your yellow life too but it seems that this is something you might be stuck with for your whole time on this server. It might stop when you’re yellow, it might stop when you’re red, or it might get twice as bad. We’ll only know when we get to that point.”

Scott sighs quietly and glances away. “I was afraid of that. But what if I kill someone? I’m not supposed to do that; I’m not red yet. Or worse… Grian, what if I hurt Jimmy?”

“I don’t know, I’m afraid,” replies Grian reluctantly. “Are you gonna tell him?”

Scott hesitates. “I… don’t know at the moment. I don’t want him to worry about me.”

“Well, I can tell you from experience that bloodlust won’t discriminate between friend and enemy. All I can advise is for you to be really careful. As you know, he’s red; you can’t afford to slip up even once or you might lose him.”

“Trust me, I know,” Scott snaps. “That’s not very helpful, Grian.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve never encountered this before. Like I said, I WILL investigate. But you might have to prepare yourself for a new reality.”

After a moment, Scott shakes his head. “Sorry, Grian. I appreciate your help.”

Grian moves closer and places his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.”

…

When Scott gets home, he finds Jimmy waiting for him. Jimmy jumps off his chair and tackles Scott in a hug. “Scott! I’ve been so worried about you!”

“I’m sorry,” says Scott softly. “Are you okay?”

“A lot better now you’re back.” Jimmy gives Scott a worried frown. “What happened back there? It was terrifying seeing you like that.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you. I just lost control a bit. His smug face and the way he was flippantly pushing you around just… made me lose it. I wasn’t gonna seriously hurt him.”

Scott winces internally at the lie. He’s fully aware that he would have killed Joel if Jimmy hadn’t said anything.

Jimmy doesn’t seem too convinced but he doesn’t push Scott any further. “Where’ve you been for the last hour?”

“I just needed to go see Grian and tell him what happened,” Scott responds truthfully. “In case Joel complains.”

“Why would he? He’s red and he attacked you first so you were allowed to defend yourself.”

Scott just shrugs. “Just in case. I don’t want there to be any trouble.”

Jimmy gazes at Scott, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Are you sure that’s the only thing troubling you? There’s nothing else?”

For several seconds, Scott just gazes back into Jimmy’s worried face, imagining himself attacking Jimmy as viciously as he attacked Joel just hours earlier, imagining Jimmy’s terrified face as he bleeds the life out of him. And for a moment, he hates himself. If only it was Jimmy. Scott can defend himself against red-life Jimmy. But Jimmy doesn’t stand a chance against a bloodthirsty Scott.

“Scott?” Jimmy says again. “Is there something else worrying you?”

Scott shakes his head and pulls Jimmy into another hug.

“No. Nothing.”

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter One

Finally! I’m sorry this took so long, I’m a nervous wreck.

Notes: this was originally a warmup for character interactions/setting. It is very dialogue heavy.

\\ Warnings: alcohol //

A single tumbleweed was all that crossed Scott’s path when he arrived in the Red Desert. It was rather comical, he stood and watched it roll away until he couldn’t see it through the sheets of sand blowing over the ground.

In the distance, the only mountain located in the desert biome loomed over the horizon. Imposingly backlit by the red, swirling, tendrils of the world border. Most residents kept away from the thing, as it was meant to give off an unsettling aura. Although Scott never minded it. The wall of his room was almost right up against it after all.

On top of the mountain was a barely visible “castle”, which looked as if it was built by someone wearing a blindfold. The inhabitants of the castle, and the aptly named “Monopoly Mountain” could be accurately described as menaces.

Clumsy when it came to forward thinking, and leaving hidden traps around so frequently that traveling through any wooded area required either a very long stick, or someone willing to take the business end of a TNT trap for the team.

They also happened to be Scott’s nearest allies. It hadn’t always been pleasant between them, but circumstance led to circumstance, and now Scott was making his semi-weekly visit to Monopoly Mountain to shoot the breeze.

Typically the only person at the base would be Grian. Scar liked to make himself elusive by causing problems elsewhere and returning late into the evening with a story to tell over dinner.

The base of the mountain was void of a bubble-elevator. To reach the top one must climb an absurd amount of stairs. Scott huffed and resigned himself to the task in front of him.

As his perspective grew higher and higher the rest of the map revealed itself. The roof of Joel’s house peeked over a swathe of trees, and the tall barricades of Dogwarts stood out as a stark silhouette against the sky. Scott took a few minutes to regain his purchase, shielding his eyes from the whipping wind.

The season was gradually descending into winter. Made obvious by the deciduous trees’ leaves choking out the last of their green pigment for fiery shades of red and orange. The weather was far less pleasant to endure. Everywhere outside of the Red Desert had to deal with bitterly cold conditions, although there hadn’t been snow yet, the sky churned with a constant overcast. Threatening to storm at the drop of a coin.

Scott rubbed his arms to fight off the oncoming chill and continued his ascent, hoping someone had installed a fireplace since the last time he visited.

Finally he rounded the last of the stairs and gazed up at the tall, thin roof of the Sand Castle. The Red Desert flag strung on the tallest rooftop flapped around in the wind. Pizza, the pet lama, grunted in Scott’s direction when he approached the front door. He hesitantly reached out to pet her (she bit him once and he’d never fully gotten over it) from over the fence of her pen, and she let him rub her fluffy bangs.

Scott knocked on the door three times and gave Pizza one last pat, anticipating someone to open the door. It would be a shame if he’d hiked all the way out only for nobody to be home.

Thankfully, the door swung open with a welcoming screech of it’s hinges.

“Hey dude,” Grian welcomed him from the front steps.

“Hey,” Scott greeted in return, “may I come in?” he asked.

“Of course! It’s freezing out here,” Grian replied and stepped away from the door, which slammed with a squeak behind the two of them.

Scott closed his eyes and waved to the resident enderman, who greeted him with a friendly, distorted “hello”. A furnace was running to warm the living room.

Scott took his coat and hat off. He draped them over the arm of the couch before swatting a layer of sand from the cushion and sitting down, observing the scene in front of him. There was always something going on in there.

This time, a myriad of blueprints were strewn across the floor. Each of them depicting heavily annotated structures and what looked like plans for redstone. Grian had planted himself on the floor with a pencil, and was furiously erasing a line of text.

“What’s that?” Scott pointed over his shoulder.

“These,” Grian held one of the outlines up to the other’s face, “are the blueprints for our secret bunker,” he explained.

“You hear that? Secret Bunker, so don’t go telling anyone about it m’kay?” He tapped the paper with the end of his pencil.

“Okay, fair enough. Is that redstone?” Scott slid another sheet of paper towards them with his shoe.

“Yup. I’m gonna equip it with a lava trap,” Grian said proudly.

“And this one will work?” Scott teased.

“Hilarious,” Grian pushed the other’s shoulder, “yes it will work, it’s going to be my best yet,” he assured.

“Oh good! That’s not a very high standard to meet then,” Scott congratulated.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Grian mocked back, “you better be careful what you say with twenty five reputation points,” he said.

Scott threw his hands up in surrender, still laughing at how the other man’s ears turned red.

The house fell into a comfortable silence after that. The sound of scribbling and wind served as a calming ambience. Scott intermittently shared a few words with the enderman, who seemed to understand more of what Scott said to him than the other way around.

“Hey, Grian?” Scott turned over on the couch to face his friend.

“Yeah?” The other said without looking away from his work.

“Do you think you would have still been friends with Scar if he hadn’t died from that creeper?” Scott asked.

There was a pregnant pause, then Grian said, “I don’t know. I never thought about it,” he doodled absently on the margin of his paper.

“Hm,” Scott replied halfheartedly. He mainly asked because whenever he visited Grian was alone. If they were even home at all. Other than that him and Scar were always attached at the hip.

“Why?” Grian asked in return.

“I don’t know, forget it,” Scott waved him off. Not wanting to get into it.

“When’s he gonna be back?” he asked instead.

Grian sat up and stretched his back, “uh, I don’t know actually. He said he went to gather resources but you can never really count on him doing what he says he will,” he explained.

“You didn’t go with him?” Scott asked.

“I don’t want to babysit him anymore. If he gets in trouble that’s not my problem,” Grian said. He stood up and wandered over the the kitchen, carefully avoiding the blueprints on the floor.

“Ha! I would drink to that one, Jimmy is the same way sometimes,” Scott replied and watched as Grian contemplated the contents of their cooler, reaching in and pulling out a bottle of red wine.

“Well then, let’s drink to it,” he held the bottle up with a grin.

“Where did you get that?” Scott vacated the couch and made his way over to his friend, taking the bottle and studying it, “I haven’t seen the fruit of the vine in years!” he recalled.

The bottle had clearly been tapped into before, although not much was absent from its contents.

“I have my ways,” Grian rummaged around in a cabinet and pulled out two glasses.

“I would say it’s too early for this, but for once, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” Scott uncorked the bottle with a satisfying pop and poured each glass a third of the way.

Grian cleared his throat, “To the safety of our stupid partners,” he raised his glass.

Scott nodded in return and connected their drinks with a polite clink, then they drank to the sentiment.

The conversation traveled to the dining table, which was more of a booth. Talking points ranged from preparing for winter to future plans to expand their bases.

“I’m not going to get anything done with the weather coming on,” Scott complained over his drink, “I don’t handle the cold very well,” he downed the last of it.

“Well you can always move in with us for the season, the attic is vacant,” Grian offered.

“Never in a million years. I’d rather be sick at home than spend a week living with barbarians,” Scott refused the offer.

Grian rolled his eyes, “it is not that bad,” he defended himself.

Scott raised an eyebrow and shoved his hand in between the cushions of the booth. Pulling up a handful of sand, which he deposited on the table.

“We live in a desert! What do you want us to do about it, of course there’s some sand in here,” Grian threw his hands up.

“Some?” Scott repeated.

“Okay,” Grian glanced under the table and shuffled his foot around, which scraped across a layer of sand, “a lot of sand,” he corrected himself.

“Get a vacuum. For the hundredth time, get a vacuum,” Scott demanded.

“We have a broom that works perfectly fine,” Grian stood up and opened a linen closet to reveal a single broom leaned up against the wall.

Scott didn’t comment on it, but he had a feeling that broom never left the closet.

The conversation was effectively halted when the front door screeched open, letting in a gust of wind and sand. It blew a few papers off the floor and scattered them around the living area.

“Hey,” Grian called out, “Scar? You back?” he asked.

“Yeah,” came from the front of the Sand Castle.

“Okay! We have company by the way,” Grian prefaced.

Scar’s head poked around the doorframe, he waved at Scott who returned the gesture.

“What have you guys been up to?” He inquired at the sight of the wine on the counter.

“Just hanging out. It gets a bit lonely up here you know,” Grian closed the linen closet and took Scar’s backpack from him. He opened it and looked at the contents.

“Oh, you actually did what you went out to do,” Grian revealed a bundle of wood from the bag.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scar crossed his arms.

“Never mind, go wash up. I assume you’re hungry,” Grian opened a pantry and took some spices out, “are you staying for dinner Scott?” he asked.

Scott leaned out of the booth to check the time on the clock above the door, “mmm, yeah why not. I’m already here,” he decided.

“Let me just page Jimmy and tell him I’m gonna be home late,” Scott patted all his pockets but found no sign of his communication device.

“Hey Grian? Can I use your pager?” he requested.

Grian fished around in his back pockets and pulled out his pager, tossing it towards the other who caught it with both hands. Scott thanked him and flipped the screen up, selected the address he needed to contact, and typed out a short message. Making sure to say it was from him and not Grian before sending it to Jimmy.

“What’re we making?” Scott asked once he finished, intent on trying to help in the kitchen.

“Well, it’s Spaghetti Friday,” Grian declared and revealed a bag of Rigatoni pasta.

“That’s a thing?” Scott inquired, taking the bag and examining the packaging. It was pretty simple, mostly cardboard with a plastic window. Presumably from the village on the other side of the map.

“We’ve gotta have some fun around here, come on now Scott,” Grian said.

“You’re right, how can I help?” Scott said. Grian side eyed him.

“You can add the salt when I say you can add the salt,” he offered. Scott crossed his arms.

He wasn’t that bad at cooking. He’d only burned a few things, smoked the house out for three days once, and set scrambled eggs on fire.

“That one time was just a rookie mistake,” Scott retorted. It’s not like he did it on purpose.

“A rookie mistake that almost burned your flower forest down. I wouldn’t let you near the kitchen if I was Jimmy either,” Grian set a pot down on the stove.

Scar came back in the kitchen then, and was pulled into it almost immediately.

“A man can’t even sit down in his own house without his culinary skills being put up for debate?”

Grian laughed at him, sliding the pot under the water pump.

“That’s not an answer at all! Can you or can’t you?” Scott demanded to know, holding a salt shaker.

“I can cook,” Scar’s gaze wandered into thought, he started counting on his fingers, “pasta, assorted vegetables, mac and cheese, cornbread, mashed potatoes, and I can bake a half decent carrot cake,” he recited.

“I worked in a supermarket before the borders. We made some of our own stuff for the bakery and the buffet,” Scar said. It was the first mention he made of what he did back when things were normal. At least to Scott.

Scott was pleasantly surprised. He nodded, seeing as he’d been given a satisfying answer.

The spaghetti went off without a hitch, Grian was surprisingly good at making it. Scott had the sense that he’d done it many times before.

“Remember, you can put the salt in but you can’t take it out. Here taste the sauce and tell me if it’s alright,” Grian fished a spoon from a drawer and handed it to Scott.

“Hmm,” the other pondered after trying a spoonful, “maybe a bit more salt?” he suggested.

A window was propped open to let the steam and heat out. It was getting dark now, and the world border stood out against the purple hues of night falling over the server. The brightest stars made themselves known to the east as the sun set to the west. It was peaceful, the wind had died down. Scott wondered if anyone else was watching.

Personally, he enjoyed stargazing a lot more. His servermates knew next to nothing about the cosmos, which made him wonder who was teaching them about the greater universe. Clearly they’d never been out there.

“Yo,” Scar called him out of his trance. He handed the other a ceramic bowl.

“Thank you,” Scott said and waited to serve himself.

The spaghetti was pretty good. Decent meals were hard to come by, especially with the limited resources outside of villages.

Over the course of dinner, Scar explained his excursion of the day. He had been gathering wood to stockpile for the winter months (no wood in the desert, better to have a source available and not have to hike out and get more constantly) when he came upon Etho’s base.

“It’s entirely made of wool,” he recounted.

Grian raised an eyebrow in confusion, “All of it? Why?” he mused.

“Dunno. There was nobody around,” Scar replied.

“You didn’t steal from them did you?” Scott interjected.

“Not this time,” he said, which earned him a jab in the ribs from Grian.

The three laughed it off and switched the subject to current server affairs. Who had the best gear, everyone’s respective allies, the phantom problem, and the pros and cons of a vacuum.

“Well, I would say this is a fine work of spaghetti,” Scar complimented when he was finished.

“Indeed, couldn’t have done it without Scott. The best salt dispenser among us,” Grian agreed.

Scott tried to look offended but couldn’t repress a smile. He stood up, about to take his bowl to the sink; but Scar insisted that he was the guest, so he handed over his dish and sat back down. Preparing his “i’m out of here” pleasantries.

He settled on, “Well, I’m out of here,” after a few more minutes of banter.

“Okay! Thanks for keeping me company dude,” Grian gave Scott a hug as thanks.

“My pleasure,” Scott replied.

Scar offered to accompany Scott back to the Hobbit territory, but he refused.

“No need Scar, you’ve been out all day. I’ll be fine,” he assured as he adjusted his hat and jacket for the chilly walk home.

“Alright then, let me walk you out,” Scar proposed instead.

Final waves and good wishes were exchanged and Scott started back down all those stairs. It was quiet, save for the gentle buzz of the world border which sat right against the Red Desert.

Lost in thought for most of the journey, Scott traveled into the dark canopy of leaves. There weren’t many mobs out due to the moon being in its Waning Crescent phase. Scott rubbed his hands together and shoved them in his pockets, wishing he’d brought his mittens.

As he crossed over a clearing, an arrow whizzed over his shoulder. Scott ducked down in surprise, turning around and expecting to see a skeleton, but there was nothing there except a dreadfully dark bank of trees and a vacant plot of land.

Scott squinted into the darkness.

Then the handle of a weapon was brought down on the side of his face, and all the lights went out.