#KEEPING GRIAN STEADY

[solsays]

Lifers x Crane Wives

I saw someone comment on a life series TikTok or something to try and pair all of the lifers to a crane wives song, without repeating songs. so obviously I spent an hour doing it

Grian—Tongues & Teeth (self explanatory if you’ve EVER heard this song)

Scar—Steady, Steady (this whole song is about how their partner is walking out but they still want to be “wild and free” which is just SO Scar coded)

Tango—Ancient History (he keeps teaming up with Skizz and I feel like this song vibes with that, it also just feels very Tango)

Skizz—Icarus (this man always gives himself up for his teammates I swear, and he fuels them to keep going. It also says “oh brother, brother” which feels like Skizz talking to any of his teammates to me)

Impulse—Allies or Enemies (Impulse has been very iffy on a lot of his alliances throughout the seasons, especially in third life and with the amount of playing all sides that man has done this songs feels right)

Cleo—The Glacier House (this. this is literally just her leaving Fairy Fort. The song is talking to/about her from probably Lizzie’s perspective, but like the last line is 100% as if Cleo was speaking)

Bdubs—Unraveling (Bdubs relies so heavily on his teammates, and when he doesn’t have that stability *cough* Etho *cough* he just kinda doesn’t know what to do so this song fits)

Mumbo—Keep You Safe (this man is by no means an aggressive/reckless player [see: Joel or Martyn] and he feels like he’s just here for the vibes and honestly? Love that for him. This song is about fear not keeping you safe and watching your friends run high risks, which just is very accurate to how Mumbo plays this series. I also feel like he could fit Rockslide when he goes red cause he goes from standstill to “drop dead sprint” in terms of aggression)

Lizzie—Shallow River/New Colors (Lizzie is the only one I put as two because both of these songs are just so fitting. Shallow river—“wasted all for the title, wasted all for the crown” reminds me of Lizzie trying to kill Scott and ending up dying herself instead. I also feel like parts of it could be dead Lizzie talking to Joel, the only person who is really mourning her. New Colors—“don't tell me that I can't, I need this“ and “I give up my air, to breathe” also feel very accurate with how she is trying so hard and just keeps failing )

Jimmy—Canary in a Coal Mine (no further context needed, we all know Timmy)

Scott—Little Soldiers (this is very flower husbands, but also just feels like Scott looking back on the last seasons including Pearl, Jimmy, Martyn, all his reluctant exes. Also this man is the watchers’ like least favorite person ever and this gives that vibe)

Pearl—Ribs (i changed this from New Discovery because Ribs is entirely about somewhat angrily protecting and helping yourself because nobody else would, and it really strikes me as Pearl with the some things having been good (Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss) and some being bad (divorce quartet))

BigB—Not the Ghost (this man is so incredibly odd, he just constantly feels like he is being haunted by the watchers and just going about his life, he is the human personification of gaslight and we love that for him)

Martyn—The Hand That Feeds (he HATES the watchers with every ounce of his being, and with Ren gone I think this guy’s only purpose is just to spite them)

Joel—Sleeping Giants (go listen to it. That’s all there is to it, it just feels very Joel-ish, this lad is absolutely fucking mental)

Ren—Once & for All (this song feels like war and being betrayed, and Ren has been betrayed so much so it just fits. I mean come on “my blood’s forever on your hands” tell me that isn’t 100% something Ren would say)

Gem—Show Your Fangs (Girlboss moment, we love Geminislay. This woman is not someone to be underestimated and this song very clearly says that so it’s very Gem in my head. She doesn’t have enough lore yet to make it angsty but ONE DAY)

Etho—Never Love An Anchor (I can’t explain it, this song just has Etho vibes. I mean “It’s a secret I keep tucked inside my chest” just seems very him, I can’t really tell you why)

[definitelynotshouting]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE OF SECRET LIFE!!!!!

so i sped-wrote this as soon as i learned who the winner was this morning, tried to post it twice, tumblr mobile deleted it BOTH TIMES... but i will not be silenced ive finally gone to desktop /silly

this will go up on my rough draft pseud soon, but until then please enjoy the results of me being EXTREMELY unwell about the secret life finale. WOOOOOO WE ARE POPPING THE BIGGEST OF BOTTLES TODAY FR!!!!!!!!!!!

Grian barricades himself at the top of the highest tower of Tango's citadel the moment he wakes up. It's a calculated move, admittedly. There are a precious few places one might still find him if he truly wants to hide, but the Deep Frost Citadel isn't one of them— and with the second Decked Out coming to a ceremonious close, foot traffic here is perilously low. Dawn is a swift-approaching knife on the horizon, and Grian soars above it all, face numb with chill wind, wings brazen and feathers strewn across an empty sky.

He doesn't want to be near when Scar wakes. And he doesn't want to be found just yet, either. Oh, Scar will track him down. Of that, he has no doubt— but for now, Grian takes solace in the snow crunching underfoot as he locks himself inside this barren tower.

It's dark here, which suits Grian just fine. He doesn't bother lighting a lantern; instead, he huddles right on the floor, letting the ice seep through him. From here, he can just make out the sky as it lightens, bringing with it the dawn of a new victor. Nausea boils in his throat. With that victory comes a price, and Scar— And Grian— Well. Grian hasn't treated him very well throughout the games, now, has he?

He curls in on himself even further, feathers brushing along the length of his chilled arms. Each hair stands at attention, in some vain effort to pull warmth from the surrounding freeze— when he scrubs a hand along his arm, his fingers shake, and the gooseflesh remains stark and raised against his skin.

There was a sand-drenched point when the concept of warmth was all he could register— scorching wind scraping the cut on his cheek, the scarlet splatter of blood across split knuckles. And like the steady drain of life from a corpse, that warmth has drawn away, poison from a putrid wound— it leaves him compacting this cold, this loneliness, to mold it into four high walls around his heart; a fitting tribute to every grain of trust he's rightfully lost. Grian huffs the barest traces of a bitter laugh as his breath mists in the air. A better man would meet Scar at his base, extend his support, no matter how icily it might be met.

But Grian is selfish, and a coward, and will always be a coward— and so instead he sits, marrow freezing, with only the thin garrotte of paltry sunlight wrapping itself around his tender throat to keep him company.

And there he stays, motionless, for long enough that the chill makes a home in him— the glistening, pale yolk of the sun warns him of the passing time, a watery heat that counts down the seconds to minutes to hours until Scar finds him. Grian curls his wings around himself, a pitiful embrace, and waits.

Two hours later, the whistle of rocket-propelled elytra warn him of incoming company. Grian doesn't bother fleeing; he knows Scar, and Scar knows him, and with this last, missing puzzle piece finally slotting into place between them, he's under no illusions that staying hidden for long is feasible. Grian's eyes skitter to a crack on the far wall as clumsy footsteps scatter the snow outside, scrabbling for balance before the muted click of a cane joins them. Footsteps; another, louder click— the door's latch gives way, and a brief, blinding wave of light crashes over Grian's face, obscuring everything but the outline of a painfully familiar silhouette.

Grian has to look away. The door shuts, and for a small moment, neither of them so much as breathe.

Then Scar's sighs— one great, resigned gust. "Grian...."

He says nothing else. He doesn't have to. Grian draws his legs up to his chest in response anyway, heart a frozen pump bleeding ice into his very veins. What can he say? An apology? They're past apologies, now— if Scar wanted to disavow him forever, take the crumpled remains of their friendship and throw it at his feet, he'd be right to do so.

But Scar doesn't shout; neither does he leave. Instead, his cane taps forward, boots sliding into Grian's line of vision— and, with a grunt of effort, Scar eases himself down, until he's sitting at a safe diagonal from Grian's hunched form.

Neither of them say anything for a while.

Eventually, Grian licks his lips. They're chapped from cold, thin and ready to split. "Hi, Scar," he says softly. It comes out weak, thready— a barely-there declaration. Whatever Scar wants here... he can take it. It's the very least Grian can do at this point.

From the corner of his eye, he watches Scar settle, shifting his weight before he lands on something approximating comfort. He takes his time with it, blind— or uncaring— to the erratic snarl of Grian's pulse. His voice is just as quiet when he responds. "So... that's it, then, huh."

Grian glances over properly before he can stop himself, stomach churning; Scar's gaze has slipped to the cutout acting as a window, middle-distant and lost. Locked on something only he can see. Then Scar shakes himself, an abrupt jerk of his head and shoulders, and that glassy look turns to pin Grian directly to the wall behind him instead. "Just like that?"

Grian's fingers tighten around his knees. "Just like that," he agrees, hollow.

Scar mulls that over for a moment. His sigh is a wisp of white in front of them, crystallizing in the glacial atmosphere. "Jeez," he says finally, scrubbing one hand through the tangled bird's nest of his hair. He must have flown across half the server as soon as he... remembered, Grian realizes with a visceral pang. "I didn't... that's a lot of memories to just, um, gain back on a dime, huh?"

Grian darts a sidelong glance at him. Shifts his wings until their primaries lower, sweeping the ground around his feet like a feathered cat's cradle. "I wouldn't know," he says, a quirk of black humor dancing around the edges of his mouth. He swallows. "Since. Well...."

He trails off. Imagines, briefly, that he is a black hole— a quasar. A neutron star. Something so tight and compact it can string him out, erase him; a ball of grief and misery dense enough that it contains its own event horizon.

Scar hums a little shakily into the blooming silence. "Yeah. I guess that would complicate things, wouldn't it." A pause. "Does it always feel—?"

Grian shrugs. "Don’t know that either, Scar."

"Oh." Scar's still looking at him, the searchlight of his gaze burning pockmarks into Grian's skin. "Cool, okay... so...." He hesitates, teeth worrying his lower lip, before finally forging on: "So what now?"

Grian sucks in his own shuddery breath. "Whatever you want, Scar," he says, blank and dull. Every inch of him frozen stiff, awaiting the tipped scales of Scar’s judgement. "There's no going back, after this." The quicksilver flash of a grimace tugs his lips back to reveal sharp, white teeth. "Welcome to the club, I guess."

"It sure is a warm welcome," Scar says weakly. "Got— uh, got your complimentary balloons, and— and um, a whole gift basket of... of...."

He trails off too, the fragile ley lines of his humor peeling off, cracking at the seams. Impossibly, Grian curls around himself tighter.

An apology is nothing but wasted air now, but it dredges from his throat anyway. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Scar. I—" He breaks off, jaw tight. "I'm... I'm not sure what else to say, honestly. I never thought...."

I never thought you'd win. It's a cruel phrase that haunts the air between them, hanging like a smoky pall across their shoulders.

Scar says nothing against it; he only watches.

An uneasy prickle crawls up Grian's spine. "You don't—" He stops himself before he can finish that thought. "Are you— Scar, why are you here?"

"'Cause Pearl's not talking to me yet," Scar says quietly, prompt. "And— and because I remembered. Us."

Grian's throat closes around the word. "Us," he echoes, a rough rasp that ricochets against the deepslate walls surrounding them. The word tears through his ears, distorting with each pass. "Look, alright— I-I don't know if you got the memo, exactly, but— I'm not—"

He breaks off again, lungs jarring, hitching in his chest. Hot prickles sear behind his eyes, but nothing drops— he’s too tired for crying. "I've hurt you a lot, Scar," Grian says at last, lips numb around the words. "I'm not sure if there's much of an 'us' left, at this point."

"I know," Scar says. His eyes reflect the snow-glitter outside.

"And— I wouldn't blame you, if you left right now." 

"I know," Scar says again, softer.

"I—” Grian stares at him, helpless. "Okay, then why are you here, Scar?" He gestures between them, an aimless motion that somehow encompasses the breadth of everything that's rotted at their foundations. "If you know all that, then what—?"

Scar regards him with enviable poise. His throat bobs as he speaks. "Maybe, I just— now that I remember— maybe I just want your company, Grian. Is that really so bad?"

Grian stares at him, at a loss. "I don't understand," he says finally, and it comes out plaintive even to his own ears. "I thought you'd be— angry. After everything I've done, after all that's happened.... What's your play here, Scar? If you want to yell at me, be my guest. I think by now I've more than earned it."

But Scar doesn't take the bait. Instead, he shuffles closer— just by an inch. A careful, cautious inch. "Y'know," he says, apropos of nothing, "and correct me if I'm wrong, here— but I seem to remember something about you wanting an alliance before all of... that crazy stuff happened. Is that right?"

Something in Grian's chest spasms. Whatever expression it spreads across his face must spur Scar on, because he scoots closer again, just enough to bring their calves together. The brief shock of warmth explodes through Grian's skin, worming its way underneath the subcutaneous tissue to flood his veins and gnaw at the lingering ice.

After a moment, Scar's lips tilt up— a subtle, fragile smile. "Is it too late to cash in on that?" he asks.

Grian's mind goes blank, white and buzzing, the thin hiss of a creeper drifting through it like smoke. Unfiltered shock threads through his voice. "You want t— what?"

Scar's smile tempers further around its edges, stretching into something softer, knowing. Rounded out. With solemn motions, he reaches into the pocket of his utterly ridiculous safety vest, and delicately pulls something out.

It's a sunflower.

In the frigid gloom of Tango's citadel, Grian gapes, the brilliant yellow petals incongruous with this grim, grit, darkened room. When he looks up, Scar's eyes are overbright, painfully earnest— brimming with a desperate urgency that tucks itself away in the depths of his pupils.

"Can we try again?" Scar says, soft as the new-fallen snow beyond this isolated cell of misery. "Start over? I— I kind of hurt you too, you know. And— for the record, being without you sucks. I don't—" He falters. "I know it's gonna be all weird, y’know, between us… but I don't want to do that anymore. I just... want you here, Grian. That's all. I just want you to stick around."

Grian sucks in a sharp, daggered breath. "You're joking," he breathes, but his heart leaps, tumbling from his throat and onto the floor for Scar to stomp at his leisure. "You're actually— this isn't funny."

"Hey, do you see me laughing?” Scar presses forward once more, a calculated attack, but still slow enough for Grian to track each move, to stop him if he cared enough to. Gently, Scar unwinds one of Grian's hands from his knees, cupping it between his own and brushing the lightest of kisses against his knuckles before turning over Grian’s palm and pressing the flower into it. Grian's fingers curl around it of their own accord, silky petals burning against his fingers.

"So." Scar smiles, tremulous, eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. "Can we still be friends?"

And Grian has always been a raw creature, a tangled wreck of his own selfish greed— he’s craved the honeyed umber of Scar's love since he first cradled it, tentatively, in his palms all that time ago. In the depths of his heart, there will always be that sandstone cliff, the crack of his bones against hard-packed sand, and wings too clipped to fly freely. There will always be that calloused fist around his heart, and beyond his own scrabbling fear, there will always, always be that fervent need to bring Scar close even as he pushes him away.

And where before, Scar had been playing blind, a game with no true rules… now, his eyes trap Grian against the wall, clear as glass— diamond sharp and just as steady. From a winning game, there is no turning back. There’s nothing left to lose here, except this porcelain trust, this shred of hope Scar offers him once more in the form of a flower.

Even after everything, all the memories flooding back— Scar is still here, holding Grian’s heart, and offering up his own in return.

Grian slowly presses it to his chest with trembling, vulnerable motions. "You're sure you want this."

"I'm sure I want you," Scar says, unwavering.

Grian breathes in. Breathes out. Inhale and exhale, both a heavy drag in his lungs. Already, the sun is beginning to strengthen, casting thick rays through the window and splaying them across Grian’s lap. The advent of gilded noon weaves around them, perfuming the air with light and heat.

"Okay," Grian says at last, and it drops from his lips with the weight of a confession; a relinquishment; a solemn vow. "Okay."

This time, when Scar reaches for his hand again, Grian meets him halfway, and the tangle of their fingers nets the sunflower in a promise neatly between them.

[cherrifire]

Hello this is probably super random but I’m personally curious on how to start working with content creators like people from the traffic life serries? Like specifically with YouTube video thumbnails. I really think it would be a good thing to try out and I feel confident in my skills to do it.

I'm unfortunately not going to be much help since I don't usually find work, work finds me. I don't even have my commissions page public yet and CCs keep showing up in my dms like "heyyyy 🥰"

I think the only time I specifically reached out to a creator was Rendog. He said something on stream about wanting to find an emote artist. Told stream to send artists to him on Twitter. So I decided to shoot my shot and sent him a message basically saying "Hey Ren, I heard you were looking for an artist! Here are some examples of my emote work, hope to hear from you soon <3" and it worked!

I guess in the case of Spiff and Martyn (who both just showed up one day), keep a steady social media. Regularly post art and keep up with the creators you like. If they see your work and they like it, they WILL do something about it. This doesn't always work of course and is not a genuine suggestion to find work, but this is how it happened for me.

The better advice I can give is in the case of Ren. Keep an eye out for opportunities and ALWAYS try to take them. The worst they can do is say no. So there is no harm in trying. When Creators want to commission an artist, they will sometimes go to the community to ask for suggestions. Tweets like "looking for an artist with ___ style, reply with examples or artists you think are good ^-^" are fairly common.

ALSO! This is going to sound so cliche, but take any job you can and PRACTICE. I MEAN IT MAN.

Reason 1: I started working for Grian because he saw my work through Martyn. Plus, Grian isn't the only one to find me this way.

Reason 2: Improvement is real and WILL get you.

As proof, here's my first and super ugly thumbnail from a year ago (don't be fooled by the high view count, the other videos around it had views in the millions. So this thumbnail did not help):

And here's my newest thumbnail:

Hope this helps at least a little. Sorry I can't say much else. Things just keep happening to me and I didn't do much to get there.

[percivex]

"What is love?" The universe asks at the end of the first week, in a world where ones cannot live without their others.

-

"Care." Impulse replies. "Communication. Defending them with all your worth and trusting they'll do the same."

"And a clock." Bdubs adds earnestly, hanging off Impulse's arm as he places a hand over the clock he keeps by his heart like a wedding ring.

Impulse looks at him and smiles, sunny and fond and full of life. "And a clock."

-

"Understanding," Tango says, rubbing an awkward hand over his upper arm, where explosion scars lay hidden beneath his sleeve, "and a willingness to work it out."

"Acceptance, I think," Jimmy offers lightly, drifting to his side and placing a warm hand on his scarred upper arm, "and unconditional support."

Tango cracks a grin, light dancing in yellow eyes. "Oh, I like the sound of that."

-

"Perfect, if I do say so myself!" Ren declares brightly, wrapping an arm around BigB and drawing him close to his side as they overlook their box of a base.

"Kind," BigB says in agreement, leaning into the motion and beaming, "and everything I could've wanted."

-

"Chaotic." Etho settles on, laughter thick in his voice.

"I think you mean fun," Joel retorts, resting his elbow on his shoulder with a cheeky grin, "and mutually beneficial."

"Or mutually detrimental," Etho corrects him with a snicker, shrugging his arm off, "but we're stuck together, either way."

Joel chuckles, nudging Etho's side a little too hard and feeling the pinch in his own. "Isn't that part of the fun?"

-

"Difficult." Grian huffs as treks through the woodland with his hand tight around Scar's, before dropping to a gentler mumur. "Unbelievable and very, very difficult."

"Overrated!" Scar laughs, but he silences and softens as Grian steadies him when he trips over nothing. They continue walking, and he confesses to himself, under his breath and carefully hopeful. "Laughter, warmth and loyalty, in that order."

-

"A choice." Cleo insists sourly, folding her arms over her chest, steadfast in her decision and thrumming with a stranger's pain. "A bond built on something real, and not expectation."

"Free." Scott muses simply from beside her, looking up at the sky and scorning the asker.

-

"A load of nonsense, that's what it is!" Martyn complains as he storms off alone, bitter and self-righteous, knuckles bruised and aching from his own fists. He falters in his march with a grimace, rubbing at his chest, where it feels like something is missing, and he adds, quieter, "...and painful."

-

Pearl doesn't answer for a long moment. She stares after Martyn's retreating back, at where Scott once stood, and then down at her hands.

Finally, she sighs as her vision wobbles, and she whispers, tentative and fragile, "I wouldn't know."

[periwinklemoonlight]

somewhere only we know ⋆ boatem knights au

a short and sweet fic set in bee @applestruda 's boatem knights au and canon to the plot written by zera @hopepetal !! this takes place between arc 1 and arc 2 :]

if you prefer, you can read it on ao3!

⋆⋆⋆

It started when Scar awoke to rustling outside the Swaggon. A quiet, quiet, little thing, but not the kind he was used to. Instead of the familiar sound of trees swaying, it was the sound of fabric brushing against itself, an ever-so-faint clinking of metal, or perhaps glass, against another surface. Most tellingly, it was the steady sound of dirt crunching beneath a weight foreign to it. The kinds of sounds that signalled there was someone, or something out there. A something he absolutely had to investigate.

He slowly got out of bed, silently dismissing Jellie, who had been peacefully resting on his chest prior. He waited until the sound was just out of human earshot before throwing a dark cloak around his shoulders to cover his bare chest, not bothering to put on a shirt for the occasion. There was a mystery afoot! Lone locks of hair reluctantly turned white as he strained to continue to hear the rustling. Swiftly lighting a lantern, Scar climbed out of the Swaggon to follow the sound.

As far as the lantern’s light could distinguish, the rustling creature hadn’t left any footprints to follow. Another lot of locks bleached with vex power. Scar’s heart swelled with intrigue. The rustling was coming from the stables. He followed suit, pausing just outside the entrance when he heard the sound stop completely. He tried once more to heighten his senses, but nothing remained. Still, he figured, there had to have been something there. He entered the stables, being so careful to use every fibre of his being not to disturb the poor horses inside. They didn’t need to be involved in his shenanigans.

Eventually, Scar reached the end of the stables. He was about to turn around and head out when he heard it again, a soft rustling noise coming from seemingly nowhere. As he examined every corner of the building, he found that the source of the noise appeared to be… an obscenely large pile of hay. Ah. He sighed. It really was nothing.

Or so he thought, until his ears eagerly picked up on what could only have been a human voice coming straight from the direction of the hay. It really was an oddly large pile, to keep inside the stable no less. Slowly, he set his lantern down at his feet and stuck a hand inside the pile. Clearing it out, it faintly occurred to him that whatever was making the rustling noises could almost certainly hear him too at that moment. Scar was far too preoccupied with the opening in the side of the stable he had discovered to acknowledge it, however.

It was just low enough for him to crouch through, he found. To his surprise, the other side was much more spacious than he had been expecting. He was able to stand up inside, if only for a slight hunch to keep him from bonking his head on whatever was above him. And there, he heard, was the source of the noise.

A similarly cloaked figure, on the ground before him, with a suspiciously similar lantern sat at their side, and emitting an even more suspiciously familiar giggle. The small red feather at Scar’s feet, barely visible in the low lantern light, cemented the figure’s identity.

“...Grian?” Scar whispered, pulling the hood of his cloak off his head as all the hair on his head rushed back to its normal brown. Large red wings fluffed up under Grian’s cloak as he giggled again. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Scar,” Grian said as he turned to face him, in a tone so purely delighted it was almost foreign to the other knight. Scar’s lantern revealed a Grian smiling from ear to ear, the flightless wings on his head fluttering excitedly.

“Come! Come look!” Grian grabbed Scars hand, yanking him downwards next to him. Scar stumbled to keep his balance.

“What’re y-”

“Sh! Sh, sh, sh,” Grian hushed him gently, using his free hand to cover Scars mouth. “Look.”

What Scar saw, resting impossibly softly in Grian’s hand, was a baby chick. And beyond his hand, as Scar noticed Grian’s lantern was illuminating, was about a dozen others. When Grian removed his hand from Scar’s mouth, no sound came out. All he could do was comply as Grian softly took his hand and scooped up another chick to place on it.

“Aren’t they precious?” Grian asked, turning to him excitedly. Scar set his lantern down, allowing Grian to guide his other hand in petting the little bird.

“Uh… Yeah, yeah,” Scar responded finally, still taken aback. “How long have…? How did…? …What?”

Grian laughed again, letting the chick in his own hands hop off. “A while! I found them near here, just on the outskirts of camp, and couldn’t bear to see them all alone like that, with no home. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t that much later after the, um, incident occurred, actually.” Scar hummed in response, his eyes darting away from Grian’s at the mention.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Grian hushed. “You know I forgave you for it a long time ago. Focus on the little baby chick in your hands instead.” Scar smiled at that, noticing then that he had been absentmindedly petting it the whole time.

“Alright, alright.” He conceded. Scar looked back up at Grian, meeting his eyes again. “So you’ve just been housing them here under all of our noses? This whole time? I mean, I didn’t even know this awning even existed in the stable, and I helped build it!”

“You could call it a bit of a, let’s say, temporary renovation.”

“How come I only caught you sneaking out here now? If you’ve been out here so long?”

“Beats me,” Grian shrugged. “Suppose I’m just a master of stealth?” “Absolutely not,” Scar grinned. “If anything, that should be me! Did you see how expertly I followed you? Like an assassin in the night! I was all like shwoo shwoo shwoo, and you had no clue!” Grian reached over to fondly brush away a lock of hair that had fallen over Scars face.

“Right, well, Mr. Assassin, I hate to break it to you, but I knew you were behind me the second you got out of that Swaggon of yours,” he laughed. The light from the lantern beneath him lit his deeply dark eyes in a lovely golden colour, not unlike that of the chicks he had nursed.

“...What?” Scar asked, his voice small.

“Scar,” Grian began, “The ladder on that thing is just about the loudest thing in the world, I'm sorry. You probably woke up everyone else too.”

“I did not!” Scar argued, scandalised. “I’m the most graceful man in the world! Sneakiest too, I’ll have you know!” Grian snickered again, before allowing a comfortable silence to wash among them, only interrupted by the chirps of the chicks bouncing around them. After a while, Scar piped up again.

“So if you knew I was there… you just let me find this place?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Grian answered simply, now holding a pair of chicks in his cupped hands. He nuzzled his cheek against their soft plumage, eliciting contented chirps from the birds.

“Why?” Scar pressed.

“Well, I figured it was about time the jig was up. That, and honestly I just wanted you to find this.”

“...Why?”

Grian turned to look at him. “‘Cause I trust you.” Scar breathed. He trusted him. After nearly getting the both of them killed, after attacking him so viciously, after everything, Grian trusted him. Scar tried to blink away the terrible liquid building in his tear ducts.

“You good?” Grian asked with a smile, briefly setting down the chicks in his lap to wipe away the tears with his thumb. “Don’t get all sappy on me now, not in front of the children!”

Scar stuttered out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good," he assured him. Grian scooped the chicks back up, surprising Scar as he leaned against his shoulder.

“Good,” He murmured, letting the chicks spill onto Scars lap and mingle with the one in his hand. Grian wrapped a fluffy wing around the other knight, and Scar closed his eyes.

⋆⋆⋆

The next morning, the two awoke to the sounds of nervous chatter around them.

“No, not here either!” a familiar voice called, somewhere to their left.

“Shoot. Really?” another replied.

“Do you suppose they took an early morning trip to town?” a final voice asked.

“Griba? Early morning? You remember who we’re talking about, right?”

“Rude,” Grian grumbled into Scars shoulder. Scar grinned.

“Come on, Gri. Don’t wanna keep ‘em worrying!” He whispered, gently shaking the avian off. Grian groaned, dramatically taking his time to rise. The chicks around them chirped at his departure as the two exited the awning. Grian had just shaken the excess hay out of his wings when Impulse suddenly entered the stable, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of them.

“What?!” he exclaimed. He looked them up and down. “What are you two doing here?!” Pearl and Mumbo’s silhouettes quickly appeared at his sides, with similarly confused noises.

“Didn’t you hear us searching for you? Mumbo was worried sick!” Pearl chided them.

“What? Hey! You guys were worried too!” Mumbo frowned, turning to her.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Scar apologised sheepishly, his words almost gibberish with how fast he was talking. “We’ll be on cooking duty for the next week to make up for it!”

“We will?” Grian asked, looking at him. His question was met with an elbow. “We will!”

“You’re not gonna tell us what you were sneakily doing in here?” Impulse asked, eyebrow raised. Scar opened his mouth to speak before Grian yanked themselves forward.

“Nope!” Grian interjected. “Right now, we have a breakfast to serve!”

[mochiwrites]

For the ask game/prompt, mayhaps #1 with Scarian? Could be in canon, one of your AUs, or any other AU you think of lol, no preference ☺️

01. Touch starved/cuddle curse (put that guy in a situation!)

reblogs do more than likes!

"How in the world have you managed this, Scar?!" Grian's indignant voice exclaims, echoing in the small space of Scar's train car. The avian looks down at the man currently pouting at him, a sheepish expression on his face.

"I-I don't know! Joel just gave me this potion thingy and -- and said it would be good for bonding with cOW!" As he speaks, he makes a grabbing motion for Grian, his pout morphing into a pleading look.

Grian pointedly takes a step back from Scar's outreaching arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Trusting Joel was your first mistake," he mumbles, sucking in a breath.

"He's a trustworthy fellow!" Scar retorts, "Besides, I don't see what's so bad about this arrangement... all I want to do is cuddle with you."

"That's exactly the problem, Scar!" The feathers of Grian's wings fluff up as he stares at his husband with a firm look. "I have building I have to do! Shops to set up, permits to not do! I also promised Gem I'd help her out with something in a few hours. I can't just stay here with you all day."

Scar's pleading expression only becomes stronger, his green eyes looking shiny as he stares up at Grian from where he sits on his head. "Please, lovebird? Just for a little bit?" He makes another grabbing motion for Grian, who finds his resolve rapidly crumbling the longer he looks at Scar.

"Nuh uh mister, I know exactly how this sort of thing goes. We both know it won't just be 'for a little bit,'" he answers. Grian's making any desperate attempts at keeping his denial firm.

But... he could just tell Gem he'd be around tomorrow. And it's not like the Permit Office is really ever open. They're only sometimes there to help anyway. And he still hasn't come up with any ideas for his mushroom stem shop.

"I promise this time I'll stick to it! Only a few hours, I swear on my hat!" Scar exclaims, eagerly nodding.

"Where have I heard that one before," Grian mumbles under his breath, fondness written into each and every word. He lets out a little sigh, "Alright, alright, fine. But only for a few hours! Let's hope this... cuddle affliction has run its course by then."

He takes a step toward Scar, and the moment he's close enough, a hand jumps out to grab hold of his wrist. Grian yelps as he's pulled right into Scar's lap, arms slinging around his waist. He steadies himself by gripping Scar's shoulders, finding the love of his life grinning at him.

"You should know I always want to cuddle with you." Scar shoots him a cheeky little wink, making Grian roll his eyes, a small smile upon his lips. "You just fit in my arms so perfectly!"

"Maybe that's just because you're a giant," Grian huffs, getting settled in Scar's hold. He moves to lay his head on Scar's shoulder, tucking it within the crook of his neck. "You're like one big teddy bear."

Scar squeezes him lightly, one of his hands moving to rest against the small of his back, right in between his feathers. The contact leaves Grian melting right into him with a content noise. "Am I a cute teddy bear?"

Grian snorts at him.

"It's the most important question I've ever asked you next to proposing, Grian!" Scar gasps in return, a serious look in his eyes. His green eyes sparkle with mirth, and pressed against him like this, Grian can feel the way his chest rumbles with hidden laughter. "I have to know if I'm a cute teddy bear!"

"Yes Scar," Grian sighs fondly, pulling back to hold the man's face in his hands, "you're a very cute teddy bear." He accentuates his response with a kiss to Scar's nose, "Although Jellie is cuter."

Scar makes some kind of ecstatic noise, pulling Grian down into bed as he rolls onto his side. Grian squawks at the sudden action, just narrowly avoiding his wings getting squished. "But of course! No one is cuter than Jellie. You come in a close second place though."

If it were anyone but Jellie, Grian would have complained.

Instead, he snuggles in close to Scar, wrapping a wing around him as they fall into a comfortable silence. Scar's arms are secure around him, and Grian thinks he'd be fine with laying here all day, wrapped in his husband's arms.

"Remember Scar, only for a few hours."

"Right, right! Only a few hours. Or until this cuddle curse goes away!"

(They go well over 'a few hours' together. Grian's communicator pings a few times, but it sounds almost silent over the pair's easy breaths as they sleep.)

[ohnonotthehorrors]

May I suggest:

An overhaul of the ‘winners as celestial objects,’ at least if we’re gonna keep using them this way.

Instead of the sun and stars- how about Mercury and Venus for Grian and Scott?

Mercury, the first planet. Small but beyond deadly on the surface, the closest to the sun, turning the planet into a desert. Named for the Roman god that was once Hermes- god of messengers, escorting the dead, thieves and more. (Fits pesky bird Grian well)

Venus, the second planet. Just as deadly but slower, more steady. Its rotation taking more time than it takes to circle the sun. Named after the Roman Goddess that was one Aphrodite: goddess of beauty, of love. Fitting for the man who refused to betray his allies, for the man so attached to flowers and beauty in a death game. (Wasn’t it always about love for Scott?)

The moon, still, for Pearl. Present but lonely. Cold, ever changing, waning and waxing. The wolves and their loyalty call to her. (And when the moon is red like blood, or blocks the sun in the sky- well the lonely is deadly too).

Mars, the red planet, the fourth. Named for the god of war, of blood shed and slaughter. Fitting for a game with so much death. Its surface is sand, like that in an hour glass, red too. Martyn derives from its name. (A million little watchers, rovers and robots, crawl about its surface)

The earth to break the pattern. Still alive amongst its uninhabitable kin. It tries to be gentle, really it does, but it is deadly in its own right. A friend to the moon, they are a comfort to each other in their strangeness. (Yes fine. I’ve been convinced that Scar is the Earth)

And finally; Pluto. Named for the god of death and riches, so far from the others in the strangeness of their game. Small and discrete, unclear of its status. But loved and adored all the same. (Cleo would like being Pluto, I think. Would give her some peace and quiet)

[hmshermitcraft]

A thing about avians is that their wings help them with balance and the cause for their chirping is connected to their voice box, so when Grian loses his avian side of him after falling into a magical pond for a month he was stunted in a forest with no one to help him.

That's when one of the Hermits found him and took him back to the others, Grian finding a new crush on not just one but all the Hermits.

When his siblings Pearl, Martyn, and Jimmy figured out he was missing, they went out looking for them only to find him with none of his avian traits, enraged they attack the Hermits and take Grian away causing the Hermits to believing avian are monster.

It takes years for the Hermits to find Grian, but when they find him, he's got wings, a feather dusted on his face, chirping loudly with the other birds and little wings behind his ears.

Grian is also, to their surprise, entirely unhurt and very excited to see them. Very. Which they know, because he's very vocal about it. He jumps on the first hermit he sees, wings fluttering behind him to hold him steady. (It doesn't keep the hermit steady, and they end up toppling over anyway.)

He explains what happened so fast they have to ask him to slow down numerous times. He wanted to come and find them, but he didn't want to lose his flock again! Also, his siblings are really sorry about the whole attacking the hermits thing. Complete misunderstanding.

And now! He can let the official courting commence!

[hopepetal]

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

Part Six!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

Breakfast the next day was a muted affair at first, the mood dampened from the events of last night and Pearl’s injury. Only after reassuring everyone that she was alright and cracking a few jokes did the mood lighten and conversations begin as normal. Impulse still seemed to be a little down, but he still smiled and talked with the rest of them. Even Grian was awake in time for breakfast, having woken up from Pearl moving around.

But still, something felt… off.

Like clouds gathering on the horizon during a sunny day, or knowing something is missing and just not knowing what. Like old signs saying “KEEP OUT” in big, bold letters, worn down to the point of being illegible. It was a timer, ticking down, grains of sand falling through an hourglass.  Something was about to happen, and if they weren’t careful, the knights would be caught in the middle of it. 

What a shame, then, that they didn’t see the storm clouds.

After breakfast, the knights cleaned up and began to go about their day. Pearl looked through their food storage and began to make a list of all the things they’d need to restock next time one of the knights went to the village. Mumbo was working on… something redstone related, perhaps that automatic vegetable cutter he had mentioned the other day. Scar and Grian were tending to the animals, and Impulse was busy chopping wood.

It seemed as though hardly any time had passed at all before it was time for lunch, and the knights gathered around the table once more. Plans were discussed for the next few days– there was shopping to be done, there had been a report of some undead roaming an area nearby the village, and the lodge had to be built, of course. 

Impulse finished up his lunch and stood up. “Pearl, could I… talk to you?” he asked hesitantly, almost reluctantly. “After you’re done, of course. Uh, alone. If you don’t mind.”

Pearl frowned slightly, looking up at Impulse with concern. “Of course. I’m done right now anyway, so…” She stood as well, and walked away from the table with Impulse, toward the forest.

Grian let them go, watching as the two crossed the camp and disappeared into the forest. He looked back at Scar and Mumbo, a sense of dread rising up in him. “We’re following them, right?” he asked, “I’m not the only one who doesn’t like this one bit?”

Scar gave him a smile, though something about it seemed strained. “Yeah. Something’s been off about Impulse for a while. I kinda thought it was over and done with, but last night…” He trailed off, raising his gaze to where Pearl and Impulse had entered the forest. 

“I mean, Pearl probably can handle herself,” Mumbo pointed out, “but I do think… I mean, it does feel a little weird, is all, things are probably going to be fine, but…” He looked between Scar and Grian, trying to think of the right words. “Well, better safe than sorry?” he finished, shrugging awkwardly. 

Grian nodded. “Yeah. If anything, we could just say we were going to prank them. Or something. But I just… I have a bad feeling about this.”

“That’s how most of our pranks start as well,” Scar quipped, laughing when Grian gently smacked him with his wing. “I’m not wrong! I’m not!” he defended himself, quickly standing up from the table and nearly falling over. 

Grian stood, helping Scar steady himself. Mumbo got up as well, and together the three began the trek toward the forest.

–

Pearl and Impulse were walking through the forest in relative silence, and Pearl could tell that he was trying to work up the courage to say something– though what, she had no clue. It was a nice day out to be walking through the forest at least, and Pearl found herself just enjoying the little adventure they were having. The ambient sounds of the forest echoed around her, and dappled sunlight shone golden through the leaves that made up the canopy. 

Pearl sighed, looking over at Impulse. He still hadn’t said anything about what he wanted to talk to her about, and she was getting a little worried. “Ya doin’ alright there, mate?” she asked, giving him a soft smile when he looked up at her.

Impulse nodded, but judging by his expression, that didn’t seem to be the case. “Yeah, I just… well, you see… this is really hard to talk about,” he tried to explain, “and I just… I didn’t want to freak anybody out, or make this a big deal, or…” He stopped talking, looking away. The two continued their walk for a moment in silence, before Impulse spoke up again. “I don’t know, Pearl…”

Pearl brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “You can tell me anything you’d like, Impulse,” she said earnestly. “I know some things are really hard to get out, but I promise you, things will get better if you share your problems with people.”

Impulse let out a quiet frustrated sound. “I know. Everyone keeps saying that, and I know that everyone is willing to talk, and I know how much we rely on communication. And I just– it’s not that I don’t want to talk, it’s just that…” He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s so hard to put things into words. And it all just gets to be so overwhelming, and it just builds up and…”

Pearl nodded. “I know how you feel. It’s really hard, Impulse. Take all the time you need. I’m cool with just walking with you for a bit, if that’s what ends up happening.” She shrugged. “It’s a nice day out for it anyway, so I really don’t mind.”

Impulse smiled, seeming to relax a little. “Thanks, Pearl.” He still seemed a little more tense than usual, but definitely more at ease than he had been just a few moments ago. “I know I need to tell you this today, though. It’s not really something that can wait, I think.”

Pearl stepped over an exposed tree root. “That’s fine, too.” Though the fact that Impulse had brought her out here to talk to her about something he considered urgent worried her, she did her best to keep her cool. Whatever it was, it had probably been bothering him for a long time, and he was only able to get it out now.

The trees in front of them were beginning to thin, and Pearl could hear the faint sound of water in the distance. They were near the ravine, she figured, assuming that what she was hearing was the waterfall. It hardly felt like they had been walking for that long at all, but it was easy to lose track of time in the forest, especially because she had been deep in her own thoughts for most of the trip. 

Stepping out from under the cover of the canopy, Pearl followed Impulse and sat next to him in a soft patch of grass that overlooked the ravine from a safe distance, and gazed out across the gap. She had flown over this same ravine many times before, but would normally use the sturdy bridge further down the way when traveling with the knights. The ravine was a good place to go into for ores and such in some places, but the river this far up the ravine was too fast for that. 

Pearl remembered how, when she had first been exploring the area with Grian and found the ravine, they had flown down close to the river and dared each other to touch the water while still in the air. She smiled slightly as she remembered Grian’s terrified squawk when he tried to touch water so fast it was almost purely white, before he had ascended and claimed that he just “didn’t want to get his clothes wet” and that “he was joking when he suggested doing it in the first place”. 

Ah, good times.

Impulse sighed and crossed his legs, leaning forward. “Alright. I…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I know this might come as a shock,” he started carefully, “but I promise, this isn’t because of what happened last night, and it’s nothing against you or Grian or Scar or Mumbo, any of them. But I… I’ve decided it’s best if I…” For a moment, he was silent. “...if I’m not a knight anymore.”

That… certainly wasn’t what Pearl was expecting. Keeping herself composed, she looked over at Impulse. “Impulse… why?” she asked. “I’m not going to keep you if that’s what you really want, but just… is there a reason for this?”

Impulse pressed his lips together, keeping his gaze strictly on the grass. “I… I don’t think it’s safe,” he admitted, “for you to be around me. For any of you. I’m– Pearl, something’s been happening to me, and I just…” He looked up at her, desperation shining in his eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t control myself. I’m going to end up hurting someone, and I don’t even know why I asked you to come here alone with me, this was a horrible idea–” He stood up, taking a few steps back. “I don’t think–”

Pearl stood as well, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. “Impulse, calm down. It’s okay, we can talk this through. Just–”

Impulse shook his head. “No, Pearl, we can’t. You don’t understand, I’m out of control! I don’t even know what thoughts are mine anymore! I– why did I do this, I could hurt you!” His panic just continued to grow, and he took a few more steps away.

Getting closer to the edge of the ravine.

Pearl’s eyes darted from the steep drop-off back to Impulse, and she reached out. “Impulse, please stop. Just… come here, we can talk about this, we can get you help…” When Impulse paused, she took a few steps forward. “It’s going to be okay.” She took another few steps, ignoring the instinct to look down at the ravine she was far too close to.

Impulse took another step back, and Pearl felt panic shoot through her veins like ice. “Impulse, please. The ravine,” she reminded him, trying to stop the fear from showing in her voice. “You’re too close. Take my hand, okay? Please.” She felt tears welling up as her breath hitched. “Please.” 

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. It was just Impulse and Pearl, and only Death’s black wings could catch Impulse if he fell.

Pearl held her breath.

“Please.” 

Impulse took her hand.

–

“They really just decided to take the worst path through the woods,” Grian muttered as he tried to smack branches and vines out of the way with his wings. “I mean, come on. Who even does that? This isn’t even a path!”

Mumbo ducked under a branch, shielding his face just in case he got smacked. “Well, I’ve heard that going off-trail is quite nice to the more adventurous types,” he offered, and Grian only rolled his eyes.

“Aren’t we supposed to be adventurous types?” Scar asked, “because last time I checked, we were knights, and knights are… pretty much the adventurous type, aside from like, mercineraries.” He frowned. “That’s not it. Mercin– marcen– hold on, I almost… merchindins–”

“Mercenaries?” Grian asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I guess.” “Yes!” Scar exclaimed, “there we go! That’s it!” He smiled brightly, pleased. 

“This feels more like a summer camp,” Mumbo said, “the ones for those little children, you know. The ones that sell cookies.”

Grian huffed softly. “We are not a summer camp. We are not mercenaries either, we are knights and we rarely go off the trail.”

“I want to go to summer camp!” Scar protested, “it sounds like so much fun! We could go hiking, go on adventures, sit around a campfire and tell spooky stories, and have a cool team name!”

“Honestly, that sounds pretty much like what we do now,” Mumbo pointed out, “just without the cool team name. Sorry Grian,” he added on, “I just don’t really think ‘the knights’ is an actual team name.”

“Then what would you like to be called?” Grian shot back, attempting to be serious though he could hardly hold back a smile.

“I think,” Scar chimed in, “that we should call ourselves the buttercups!”

“Absolutely not,” Grian shot down, “aren’t team names supposed to be fearsome or something? Isn’t the whole point to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies?”

“I think it’s a nice name,” Mumbo interjected, Scar backing him up with an indignant “yeah!” 

Grian pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “Oh, I’m not winning this one, am I,” he muttered. “Pearl’s going to kill me when she learns we’re called the buttercups.” 

“Speaking of, where is Pearl?” Scar asked. “How do you even know we’re going the right way?”

“Birds-eye view,” Grian responded, absolutely deadpan. 

Mumbo let out a confused noise. “But you’re on the ground.”

“Mhm.”

“With us.”

“Seems like it.”

“So it’s not really–”

“I just know,” Grian said, “trust me.”

“The last time you said that, things caught fire,” Mumbo muttered, but said nothing else. 

Grian picked up the pace, the uneasy feeling growing the longer they walked. He prayed that it was just him overreacting, that nothing bad was going to happen, that they would find Pearl and Impulse and everything would be alright. 

Something told him his prayers wouldn’t be answered.

–

When Impulse took her hand, Pearl let out an audible gasp of relief and pulled him carefully away from the edge, toward her. “Impulse,” she breathed, “never do that again.” She hugged him tightly, trying to stop her hands from shaking. She felt his arms carefully wrap around her shoulders, reciprocating the hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m sorry, Pearl.”

For a moment, Pearl was relieved. For a moment, she believed that things were going to be okay, that they were both safe. For a moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity, she forgot that Impulse never really liked hugs.

By the time the alarm sounded in her brain, it was far too late. 

Impulse grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved as hard as he could.

By some miracle, Pearl managed to dig her fingers into the edge of the cliff, her wings– injured, useless– trying desperately to push her back up onto solid ground. Pain shot through her wings as she strained a little too hard, her stitches separating from the frantic movements. 

“Impulse!” she got out, the tears from earlier beginning to slip down her face, “Impulse, I can’t–!” She tried to find an area to dig her feet into, but found no purchase on the stone. “Impulse, help me!”

Impulse smiled. “I really am sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. He didn’t sound like Impulse. 

Had his eyes always been red?

Realization hit her just as Impulse stomped down hard on her hand.

Pearl fell.

–

A strangled scream tore its way from Grian's throat, and he took off before Scar could even move. “Pearl!” He threw himself over the cliff edge, diving after his sister. 

Grian was fast, but Scar was no slowpoke himself. His eyes burned a brilliant, vibrant blue as the colour faded from his hair. He slammed into Impulse, knocking the other knight to the ground with a grunt and pinning him just inches away from the edge. Mumbo stopped a few feet away, eyes wide as Scar placed his claws against Impulse's throat. 

“Woah there.” Impulse, red-eyed and wrong, smiled as he held up his hands in surrender. “No need to be like that.”

“You,” Scar hissed out, “you’re what’s been causing this, you hellspawn!” He pressed his claws harder against Impulse’s throat, the sharp points pricking the skin and drawing small beads of blood. “Get out of him. Get out of my friend!” 

Impulse just laughed. “Nice try, vex.” In one swift movement, he threw Scar off of him, rolling back onto his feet. “But I've always been stronger.” Before Scar could react, he took off into the forest, leaving the cliff behind. 

Scar didn’t go after him. Despite how much he wanted to, the demon possessing their friend was right. It was stronger than him, and even if he were able to defeat it, he would be bringing significant harm to Impulse. 

The flapping of wings interrupted the silence Mumbo and Scar had been left in, and Grian appeared over the cliff, holding Pearl close. He landed carefully, chest heaving as he gently let Pearl down. She leaned against her brother heavily, noticeably trembling. Scar didn't blame her– falling and being unable to catch yourself was one of the scariest things. 

Mumbo coughed awkwardly, breaking the silence. “I hate to be the one to say it, but I don't think that's Impulse.”

Despite everything, Scar had to laugh. “Yeahhh... you think?”

–

The trip back to camp was a somber one. Pearl recovered from the shock fairly quickly, but her stitches had ripped and she was still in quite a bit of pain. The moment they arrived back at camp, Grian brought her back to her tent to go fix her wing. 

Mumbo and Scar sat in silence, Scar’s hair still streaked with white. He was both frustrated and absolutely furious. He wanted– he wanted that demon dead. He wanted to rip it into shreds for daring to hurt his friends. But he was also worried. Impulse had run off, and Scar doubted that the demon cared very much for his health and safety. 

Grian returned with Pearl after a little while, and the remaining knights sat down to decide on a course of action. 

“I think we should go to Cub,” Scar suggested, “he seemed to have an idea of what could be happening. Maybe, knowing what we know now, he could narrow it down. Or something.”

Grian nodded grimly. “That sounds like a fairly good start. We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

It was as if a dark cloud had descended on the camp as the knights got ready, the usual idle chatter silenced by fear and anger and worry. The knights mounted up and began the trip to Cub’s house, a sense of urgency in their movements.

They’d save Impulse. 

They had to.

–

Impulse woke up on the ground, laying against a tree. He blinked, looking around in confusion. “Where…?”

Suddenly, he remembered.

Impulse shot up, his breaths becoming short and rapid as a panic attack set in. He had to brace himself against the tree, nausea rising as he gasped for air.

He killed Pearl. He– he killed Pearl. Pearl couldn’t fly. He pushed her. She was dead. 

As much as I would love that, she is not. 

Impulse jumped, startled by the demon’s voice in his mind. “You– what do you mean?!” he cried, anger and horror and fear all mixing into one awful emotion. “We pushed her off– she couldn’t survive that!”

If she had died, I would’ve been free. 

“Oh, Void.” Impulse practically collapsed against the tree, slowly sliding down until he was on the ground again. “Thank the stars. Thank the stars.” Relief had tears welling up in his eyes, streaking down his face and leaving hot trails.

I wouldn’t be so relieved just yet. 

“Why not?” Impulse snapped, “what more could you possibly do?”

He was given no answer.

Impulse was now, truly, alone.

[katiky-png]

Bee Applestruda's Boatem Knights AU has got me by the throat. Well here I go with a bit of writing I guess!

Just a heads up for any readers, this is not canon to the AU! This is just me obsessing 😊

Night Air. 815 words. 23/7/23.

The avian let out a squawk as he was yanked backwards by the hem of his sweater, his startled cry piercing through the chilly night air like a mercenary’s sword through flesh.

“You just can’t keep doing this, Griba.” The figure in a dark cloak frowned down upon the avian as he managed to steady himself, her antennae drooping and her wings hanging low. 

“But Peeaarl- I do this every night! And I don’t come back injured, do I?” Before the avian could retaliate further, he was silenced by a flick to his forehead.

“No, you don’t. But you might. And I don’t want it to happen anytime soon, got it?” Pearl huffed, her wings flaring up as her voice grew louder with frustration. 

“Do you forget that there are mercenaries out there? Mercenaries with crossbows and swords and pointy things? Mercenaries whose only goal is to hunt down pesky birds like you for some stupid coin?”

The avian crossed his arms, turning away from his sibling. The familiar feeling of defeat swirled around in his stomach.

“Remember the last time you went out alone without giving me the heads up? You got kidnapped, mate. And in broad daylight too! You almost got yourself killed, as well as Scar. Now does that jog your memory?”

Grian mumbled a half-hearted apology and kicked at the gravel path below him, twisting and grinding the rock fragments below the heel of his boot. His face was illuminated by the warm glow coming from the distant campsite as his sister’s was cast in a soft veil of shadow.

“Y’know, I worry about you, Griba. I care about you. And so does the rest of the crew. I can’t have you going out to who knows where after dinner, and coming back in the dead of night- void knows where you actually run off to- and well, I just don’t want you to leave. A small knight like you going out alone without any protection whatsoever is just bound get into trouble, and I guess you could say that you might-” 

Pearl froze, a rush of warmth flurrying through her body as she looked down to see the avian hugging her around the waist. Grian’s wings coiled around the both of them as his cheek rested in the folds of her cloak, eyes shut tight.

Time felt as if it were slowing down until it was just the two sky siblings deep in an embrace, the ambience of small night animals rustling around in the field of grass that surrounded them, and the occasional breeze that sent crisp night air between both their wings. After what felt like eternity, Grian spoke.

“I’m sorry, Pearl. I really am.” Despite his warm smile, there was a slight hesitation in his voice. He slowly tilted his head upwards to his sibling, whose face was soon illuminated, cast with the golden lamplight of an approaching knight. 

“Hey- I apologise for interrupting. It’s quite rude of me-” The knight came to an abrupt stop beside the others, the oil lamp in his hand swinging back and forth as he gave an awkward smile, raising the corners of his moustache.

“A-are you two alright over here? Scar, Impulse and I have been waiting for you guys to make your way over for some campfire stories before we all doze off. We were all nice and warm and snuggled up a second ago.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced between the two siblings, who both shared a confused expression.

“Like- genuinely. Aren’t you cold, at all? It’s beginning to get quite chilly out and I suppose that it’s best if you-” The moustached knight’s rambling was cut off by laughter as the avian pulled away from the hug and turned to his friend with a bright smile. 

“We’ll be there in a sec, Mumbo. Tell Scar to start the story, we can’t leave Impulse waiting. Pearl and I can always join in halfway through and he can give us a rundown of what’s happened.”

“Right. Very well then!” The knight waved goodbye as he turned. The lamplight slowly faded and joined another blur of light not too far away, followed by a hum of distant chatter.

“I accept your apology, Grian.” She turned back, looking down at her younger brother with a smile. Her voice was soft and genuine, smooth like her dark wings against the night sky.

“But there’s no need to be too soppy about it.” 

Pearl ruffled up the avian’s hair, and was immediately returned with a wing-smack to her side before she hastily turned and took off on foot through the field.

The siblings burst out into laughter as they chased each other, wading through wispy blades of grass. Their wings trailed behind them as they exchanged words of both hatred and love through the chilly night air.

[aggressivenesswhilecrying]

Home on sea, lost in the land

Summery:

In of which the crew are simple people, dedicated lives. Species don't mean much, not really, and in thus tail, we focus on the world our love sick pirates live in

Featuring martyn being a little shit, a bustling sea town, and absolutely no plot

No trigger warning that I'm aware of!!

Not beta read or edited!!

(This is a Christmas gift to @chocolate-cake-enthusiast!! I'm sorry it's so late in the night, I ment to post it earlier, but the Google docs wasn't working, and it was a disaster!! Check the end of the fic for a little note afterwards<3)

It's only normal these days to wake up to swaying floors and messy noise. Light peaking through every little corner of the living quarters, lighting the room up like a second sun, directly into his eyes. With squinted eyes, and tired moments, he slrolled over, over, sat up in the center of his hammock, he sets his feet on the wooden floor, feeling as it sways, as it tries to knock him over. With a yawn, and the wave of his hand, he stumbles to the closed door, avoiding all his shipmates sleeping positions, some beds already empty. Slowly creaking open the door, he let warm sunlight reach his eyes. Let the salt reach his lungs.

The as he stumbled out to door, his shoulder slammed into the doorway, causing him to hiss and curse in pure pain. But he managed to keep his nosies of pain down as he stumbled onto the deck. The image of the fae captain, scar, and his first mate. A human named grian, leaning against the rials softly chatting made a small grin spread onto martyns lips. The longing for sea in his dried scales bothering him just slightly, his spices calmed and smoothed against his skin.

Slow and soft steps across the deck let his mind wake just slightly. Glancing up he can see jimmy in the crows nest, the siren no doubt feeling like he's cooked alive as birds try to nip at him. Martyn couldn't imagine being up straight in the sun all day and most of the night. He could already feel his tail flicking at just the idea.

He finds himself also drifting to the rails where grian and scar are, the soft conversation making his heart swell with joy.

"I don't know, I'm thinking that the harvest port would be the best to stop at, its a little far, but if im right cleo has some family there? And no one else has family around the area" Scars said, voice a soft whisper that barely reached martyns ears. Arms folded on the sturdy, but throughly well loved arm rails.

Grian hummed voice unsure as his fingers tapped along his forearm. A steady rhythm that almost sounded like music.

"I don't know, harvest is a little too close to the capital...going there would mean the risk of guards spotting us, and I'm not too comfortable with that.." grians brow scrunched bitting at his lip. Which in turn made scars own brow scrunch at grians worry. There was a reason grian was the first mate. Scar wasn't the best captain. He was great at it, yes, but he lacked that sort of thinking ahead.

Scars hand started to reach for grians face, and martyn decided it was time to ruin the moment, as they clearly hadn't heard him or saw him walk up.

Leaning his own arms on the rails quickly, almost slamming into them and turning to be leaning just over them to be loking at Scar. Startling the two. Scars hand jerking back, and turning a light blue in the cheeks, grians own lightling up slightly.

"What are we talking about?" Martyn asked in a normal tone with a chuckle. Face scrunching as he started at the two with a smug almost knowing smirk.

Grian slid his arm down to his side, where scar couldn't see it, and flipped martyn off, which in turn got him slapped by the mers tail.

"Oh, just where we're stopping next, with the hoildays coming up, we were thinking of stopping somewhere to celebrate, unsure of where." Scar said, voice laced with humor and charm that had martyn not blaming grian for his fancy towards the man. His captins coat open showing the large gashes across his chest in the form of Scars. The large star like cuts under where his breath once where displayed proudly. Martyn had actually been the one to help make the Scars look that way. After having them removed, one day after drinking far far too much, scar had told martyn he wished he had cooler top Scars, and well, the rest was history, now wasnt it?

Nodding simply martyn looked back out to the sea. "We could stop at the timber tide port? That's where me, Jimmy, lizzie, and Scott are from? We don't have any family there, but it's almost completely filled with mer people, and they have a large parade for the middle of winter. Lots of dancing, shopping, shows of magic, all sorts of things." He suggested, slightly rambling about his home, but he doesn't think the two mind when grian nods. Thinking about it for a second, still narrowed. A large pin holding the front of his hair back so they can see the way his forehead wrinkles as he starts to nod a little more, turning to scar.

"I thought you guys were from alice town?" He turns to martyn, face still scrunched, tiltung it at him slightly with a confused look. His sleeveless shirt barely even hanging onto his body. Letting the almost cold air pass through. His brown pants lose and holding on just by his hips, far too long and bunched around his ankles, and they looked big enough that martyn would even say they seemed to be scars. "No, that's just where you found us, we never actually told you guys" Martyn chuckles, watching as the man nodded looking back to the sea, as if the open water will tell him the answer and let him know the future. Empty silence filling the area as grian brought back up his hand, tapping away.

"it's in a swampy area, so there is almost no way gaurd will be there?" Martyn couldn't exactly tell you where that logic made sense, but It felt right on his tongue. In all honesty, he didnt remember much about the area, but Ren was supposed to be there, hidden away in the crowd. And grian seemed to give him an almost knowing look as he turned to scar. The captain smiling brightly, and with a nod, grians full of thought eyes looked right at martyn, and with the way he stared right through his very soul, martyn can't believe he's human.

“We'll talk about it. No promises.” Grians voice was almost stern as he the scared man nodded to the door just across the deck, the doors to the captain's quarters. Rolling his eyes martyn pushes off the rails, dramatic sigh leaving his lips as he walks to the nearest sail post, webbed hands reaching down and holding the still wet thing of rope.

By the time martyn walked back, the two were gone. Which isn't very surprising. And with the morning sun oh his back, and the sounds of the crew waking up, martyn tied one end of the too long rope around his waist tightly, the other end around the rails of the ship. With a huff, martyn looks out to the bright colors. The clouds drifting across the almost cotton candy sky, rich with morning moisture, and making martyn feel far too dried out.

Attempting to wiggle out of his thin night shirt, Martyn could hear the quite talking coming from somewhere on the deck. And yet he paid them no mind as he tossed his shirt onto the deck, and sent himself hurdling off the edge of the ship, rope coming with him.

Starting down at the map, grian and scars eyes didn't leave the nearly secluded area. Days worth of travel away from ant other civilization, even on horse, I would take near a weak if ridding. A sea cliff city. A small port on a lower bay, then at least an hour of hiking to even make it to the city itself.

“I mean…it's not a bad place..?” Scars voiced sounded almost amassed as he glanced up at grian. Green eyes far too unusual. But still just as enticing. The far having the sort of magic around him that almost made you want to agree with everything he said.and grian could almost huff at whatever kind of attempt scar was making.

“Yeah, but martyn also has a thing going on with the king…Ren could very well be there waiting.” grian weakly chuckled, almost as amassed, but still focused. He couldn't count on his fingers how often martyn swayed scar to stop at a port. And then the very next day they saw the poorly disguised king clinging to martyn like a young women who just found her first sailor. Drawn to the distance, and the danger of a pirate.

Scar was silent for a second, the boat slowly rocking, eyes wrinkling, before turning his head up, a determined grin on his face. And grian knew they were doomed. “Yes…but have you heard of the festival? Ive met sailors desperate to go see it back in the navy. But the waters are too dangerous for even most navy ships, and they don't get much of a break.” The captin chuckled, slowly coming to stand up straight, his attitude not changing, as he reached to his side with nimble hands, pulling out a dager with a blade made out of quartz. It wasn't all the usefully, but it certainly was a fancy way to mark a map.

Scared and tanned hand set it on the table, and even with the pink on grins cheeks, he let out an almost disappointed sigh, mostlywith himself as he grapped the danger. Hand fitting comfortably around the handle as if it was made for him to hold.

“Whatever you say, captain.” And the dagger dug right Into the thin paper. Right over the small sea side village.

And honestly? Grian didn't expect it to quite look like this. The towering clif to be carved with what looks to be ancient religious text. For little mers, with big round eyes, and thick and spiked tails, and fins larger then their head to be diving off the cliff that would almost tower over the Castle itself. The doc covered in boxes of fish, and even more crates, a few small fishing ships passing in and out. The mer folks chatting.and sone even with wet hair in the chill temperature. All the crew out on deck. Large grins, and with small bags of coins.

With years spent with the 4 mers aboard the same ship, grian had come to learn of the antifreeze deep in their blood. Even as the crew themselves started to wearing thicker clothing, and keep the inside of the boat heated, well. Lizzie stood against the railing, clawed hands digging into the wood, and for a second grian is almost scared it's gonna break. The lure hanging from her forehead giving off a soft white that grian can barely see, white and cloudy eyes look directly at the land coming closer. The small fins inplace of her ears folded back, and gills fluttering around her neck. Hands tap along the rails of the ship, and grian is a little worried she’ll jump overboard, but with how often martyn does it, he can't say he's actually tooworried. And thin, silky fabric, bunches around her waist.

He was told it was a cultural dress, giving to all members on that day they “grow into their fins” he doesn't question but stares slightly at the tealfabric, flowing down, but cutting off at her ankles, a hole in the back designed with lizzies short, almost triangle tail in wind. Sewn on shell causing her dress to clank with each turn. The top a slightly less see-through pink, the sleeves acting more like a scarf then anything else. And with grians scarft tight around his neck, and his wool under layers on, grian almost wishes he could just feel so comfortable in such little clothing.

As the island comes into view, it's clear all their in their town clothing. Outfits clearer then they've been in months. Hair brushed. just looking at the mers of the ship, it seems like they scrubbed each individual scale. Etho and joel seemed to have brushed their fur like their lives depended on it. Cleos stiching looks brand new. Scar is actually qearing a shirt under his coat. Bdubs looks like someone helped water him these last few day with how green his coat is, and yet grian cant see a single area where the vines peek out of his clay mold. And grian won't deny they all look good, when they aren't somehow covered in dirt, sea water, and smell of week old sweat.

Scar manning the wheel, and grian barking out orders to help with the docking as they pull into the harbor. Easily the biggest ship there. They lower the red, yellow, and green flag as everyone makes work.

Salt in the air is something the burns, but grian can't taste it, as the cold bites even harder.

Martyn can't express thr joy he feels as he reaches the gates, having ran ahead of the group the second it came into view, out of breath due to the uphill run, he turns around only for jimmy to crash into him, leaving him giggling loudly. They almost tip over, but martyn manages to stop the fall, arms wrapping around jimmy as he squeezes tightly shaking the man.

They don't say anything more then loud, unbelieving laughs as they hold and shake each other as hard as possible.

Looking up and meeting Jimmy's eyes, brings not a single butterfly to his stomach, as his hands reach out, grabbing Jimmy's face and kissing for just a moment out a pure joy, he can hear the crew snickering back just a little bit down the trail, before a nether born and a fellow mer start shoving martyn away, a laugh on their lips as tango and Scott continue to elbow him from both sides. Making martyn sway, he eventually puts his hands up and backs up.

“Hey, now come onnnnn, rhats just meaaannn, especially since we had that four-” martyns teasing words are quickly cut off by tango kicking him in the balls, a high groan of pain leaves martyn as he doubles over, grabbing his spot of pain, looking at jimmy in betrayal, as the flustered siren hides his face, and laughs loudly at his pain.

“Martyn. Judt shut up.” Scott giggles out as he layers an arm around Jimmy's waist, pulling the much taller siren to his side. Scotts fins flaring out, as jimmy cant help but laugh more falling onto scotts side, hunched over with his head on his shoulder, back curved as he laughs loudly, tail flicking across the dirt in joy.

Tangos hair roars, and martyn can see how the ground around his feet is slightly scorched.

Martyn ends up walking in, flipping the rest of the crew off as he decides to wander to the market, coins at his side. And spikes along his spin poking up, as his small tail looks to be a slight danger, semi puffed up. Leaving the groups snickering.

Martyn quickly finds himself an inn. Making sure to reserve a room for the next few nights, before he hits the town. The sun has started to set, leaving it all painted in sweet yellows as a few mers go around, lighting up lanterns.

Now, martyn is aware most people aren't aware, but fish are most active at night, or early morning. And so. The two market is just starting to fill with stalls, and lights. Martyns shoes tied around his waist as so he could walk bare foot. His clawed and webbed feet making it all the more easier to enjoy it.

The moon cast a loving glow on the town and its people, and martyn can see the gentle glow of some of his scales. And as he looks around. He sees others, in the cool winter air, also glowing.

His hands drift along the small metal piece. A decoration that goes around your jaw, made to look like wolf teeth. A truly stunning silver color.

Martyn doesnt hesitate as he talks with the seller in an almost deamy state, he finds himself almost getting land sick with how often he's on sea. But he doesn't say anything as he slides over the far too many coins. And gently slips on the garment. It fits nicely, a bit lose, but he can't help but feel excited to wear it.

Martyn will argue with you to the death about it, but he most definitely buys far too much jewelry, and gets his shoes shinned, and buys the local newspaper, and gets a set of tiny little wolves made out of bone. And maybe he stopped at the tavern. Made he let himself have a nice drink. And maybe his coins for the day is almost out. But when his shoulder hits a man wearing a red cloak in the passing streets, he's very aware he isn't a mer. Nor apart of his crew. Throwing himself around, he's met with a sight that take his breath away, standing there, seeming to have planned it. With his commoner clothing on, and a shirt far too open, is Ren. His king.

Martyn can't say he remembers much of the night, but he knows Ren tasted like home. And felt like heaven. Every last bit of him.

Grians breath catches in his throat, he had been at the town, for maybe two days. Two days of seeing the village's wonders, two days of spending far too much money, and two days of not seeing a wink of most of his crew. He'd seen jimmy about three times, having spent the c first day with Scott and tango, spending the second with lizzie, joel, Scott, and this one of the town they all aparently knew, a clown fish mer named Owen.

He'd seen mumbo quite a bit tho, the first half of the first day, mumbo was on his own, before the rest of the time he hung out with grian and scar, not wanting to go anywhere. Etho was off an on, hed seen etho with almost everyone, bdubs normally following.

All in all, grian was completely alone in his stay at an inn. No one else from the crew staying there. The inn keep had told him at half down to come in, yo come in, hang out, and wait for the sun to set.

In which he had busied himself with a sewing needle and a torn shirt. It would probably be best to ask cleo to do it, but without a book, or much of anything, sewing seems like the best bet.

Suddenly, he can hear music, between the thin walls, something loud, happy, they makes him wonder just how beautiful it's gonna be. The entire trip Martyn had talked up the festival. Not shutting up about just how beautiful is is.

Slowly steps down the stairs, creaking every few moment. It wonky take a second for him to reach the bottom of the stairs. The door to leave the inn wide open. Letting grian see the glimpses of the festival.

Of bright colors across the streets, of everyone in thin silky dresses, dancing, and twirling to the music.

And grian almost hesitates. Almost. But slow easy steps leave the inn. Walking into the the streets as the sun sets.

The lanterns that once hung all around the roads, now with stained glass, lighting up the town.and grian leaves his shoes at the door. Walking out into the midst of the dancing, that seems to fill every road.

He feels under dressed in the middle of it all. As bright colors fill his vision. He slowly walks down the path to the market place as he feels his mind spasm with pure awe.

Everyone moves to naturally, like this is where they belong, in the fast moments, music louder then the ringing in grians ears. And grian almost swears he's in a fantasy novel, as people turn.

Some are as wet as can be, and they laugh so loudly as water goes flying. Some women has her hair in what seems to be bubble braids as she stomps, kicking and sending dirt flying with a smile.

Everyone is glowing, the lanterns not the only thing lighting up the sky.

Some little boy about half grians height with glowing pink eyes breaks his trance. The octopus mer having 8 arms, and horizontal slits in his eyes, grabs grians hands, pulling him into the spinning.

And grian laughs. Of course he does. It's high, and near a shrill as the young boy spins grian. The boys pink dress fanning out as he let's out a similar laugh. Grian feels himself bump into someone, about to apologize, untill they take him as their dance partner, before leading him stumbling into someone else.

Grian isn't quite sure how long he dances, but at some point, he knows all the words, and he can feel his voice wearing down.

(Hi!! You made it!! Listen cake, I'm aware we haven't known each other long, but you have very quickly become an important part of my life<33 I'm sorry most of the time I text you, I'm tripping, it's not ment in ill intentions!! It's just that I generally feel safe enough with you, to talk, and call, and all that, with you, when in that state. When I'm lonely, and everything feels weird, you're the first person I think about. Also, I really liked that cowboy hat you showed me, I don't think I expressed that!! It was a really cool hat!! I generally enjoy talking to you, and when you ranted to me after a breakdown, it made my heart soar. I really hope you know, you're not a secondary friend of mine, even with my girlfriend, you place super high up there, as someone I'm close with<333)

(I'm sorry I spoiled most of it that one time, but I hope even with the slightly changed plot, you like it<33)

[angeart]

hhau mimic arc rambles - part II: reunion

(~3,4 k words) // part I here // au masterpost here --

After being left out in the open, weakened and alone, without supplies or his cloak, wings on full bright display, Grian… isn’t doing so well. 

He barely survived the attack. He scrambled so much to defend himself. He used the arrow (the one that was once buried in his thigh; the one he kept because it was sharp-edged and better than nothing). There was so much blood. It was all so horrible. 

Now he finds himself alone and cold and terrified, bleeding. Everything hurts and he doesn’t know where Scar is—

Where is Scar? 

... Did Scar leave him?

Scar wouldn’t leave him, right? (He doesn’t want to believe it. But the possibility that Scar might be in danger, somewhere far away from Grian, is absolutely dreadful.) 

The camp is empty when Grian stumbles back into it, and the ribbon is gone, and— Maybe Scar did replace him, after all? Got rid of the burden of Grian’s violet wings, chose the path of least resistance, opted for survival instead of trying to constantly fight against Grian’s doomed fate?

Grian is so scared and confused. Worried sick too, but he feels abandoned and doesn’t know where to go. He misses that fabric on his wrist. He feels so so alone. 

He tries waiting, for a while. But it’s dangerous to stay put and, eventually, he’s forced to move. And it almost feels familiar, in some awful way—it’s as if he was plunged back into his first week in this world. Hostile and cruel and nightmarish, with no reprieve, no kindness, no gentleness. No warmth to curl against, no hands to hold him steady, no safety net beneath his wobbly feet. Except he’s worn down by months in this world. And it’s colder now. And on top of that, he’s already wounded horribly.

He scrambles from place to place, leaving a trail of blood that he’s sure someone can trace. He tries so hard to hide himself, to lose any potential pursuers, but—

But a part of him wants to leave a trace. A part of him keeps hopelessly wishing that Scar might be out there, looking for him.

As days pass, that seems less and less likely.

Grian barely sleeps, reverting to old habits of wings pressed tightly against harsh surfaces in an attempt to hide them, surrendering the very much needed warmth they could provide if only he wrapped them around himself instead. He shivers, exhaustedly alert to every little sound. Dizzy and hurting and terrified.

He’s got nothing left now. Being with Scar feels like less of a memory and more of a fever dream. He's so sure it’ll now forever be this: him, lost alone in this vast forest, running until he can’t anymore. It will be the cold, or the hunger, injuries, or the hunters—something will inevitably bring him down, soon.

He misses Scar.

He hopes Scar is okay.

(He tries not to think about how he wishes this would all just end.) (He tries not to sink too much into exhausted, hopeless despair.) (He tries to dredge up his pesky resistance, any sort of spite against fate that could fuel him to just keep going, keep surviving.)

It’s a harsh week. He gets into more fights, each of them bleak and panic-filled and horrible. (A lot of the scars he later has—including the one on his face—come from this week spent alone.) He’s so, so tired. It all hurts. He’s scared.

When it happens, he’s curled up, hurt and bruised, face dirty and bloodied, body shaking from the cold, stomach twisted with hunger. All of a sudden he jolts, thinking he heard something distant that sounded like Scar’s voice. And he doesn’t know if he’s imagining things, because at this point that seems more likely than this being real, but he still can’t help himself as something urgent swells in him, begging him to reply, to call back.

He tries to call for Scar, but his voice falters and fails. His throat is so dry. He hasn’t made a sound in days.

Scar’s voice moves further away and Grian panics. He scrambles, unfurling his sore wings. Everything aches, his balance is off, but he tries to get up anyway. Desperate, he lets out a cry—a loud, sob-like sound, the only one still willing to wrangle itself from his throat. 

And then he does something he hasn’t done in months: he spreads his wings further, and he tries to fly.

The branches are thick, and Grian’s wings don’t really carry him, and in his blind desperation, he quickly crashes against a tree. His wing spikes with pain and he tumbles harshly to the ground, but he doesn’t pay it any attention.

Panicked desperation keeps flooding his veins as he’s sprawled on the forest floor, his own body not listening to him as his lungs edge hyperventillation. Because— Because Scar was there but he was moving away and Grian couldn’t follow and he’s— he’s—

He’s just going to die here, isn’t he?

The trees rustle. There’s a loud noise Grian can’t quite decipher, but it doesn’t matter.

All that registers is danger. 

Danger danger danger danger

It’s only ever been those horrible creatures. Nothing good approaches from the sky here. Grian’s made too much noise, and now they’ve found him, and he can’t fight, not anymore, not again, please—

A series of panicked, frantic chirps spills out of him on nothing but blind instinct as he tries to back away, press against something, flatten against the ground, anything.

His wings are bright. He doesn’t have a cloak. He can’t hide. He can't run.

He doesn't stand a chance.

He can’t do anything as the source of danger swoops down on him.

---

When Scar left Juni, he was a mess of conflicted emotions, the hurt and betrayal fresh and wildly flaring. But as he keeps moving, those emotions get overrun by others that spread through him like a wildfire: the rage, the desperation, the fear.

He doesn’t know where to go. 

He doesn’t know if Grian’e even alive.

With heart torn to pieces in his chest and nothing but feeble, foolish hope—and an insane amount of blind recklessness—he clutches the ribbon, spreads out his tattered wings, and leaps up, scaling the trees to get as high as he can. The morning light is soft, pale and gentle, interspersed with fog that obscures everything further in a cottony haze. 

Scar’s wings struggle to carry him, but he doesn’t care. He needs to go. He needs to go, and this is the fastest way, and—

He’d do anything right now. Anything to find Grian.

Desperately, he tries to feel the tug of their connection; the dark fabric of the ribbon prickles against his grip in silent accusation and Scar begs it to lead him. Yet there’s nothing to help him pick a direction; he simply scrambles in whichever way feels right. 

He hollers. It’s not a word, just a cry. A call. 

He really shouldn’t be loud, shouldn’t heedlessly drag attention to himself, but he doesn’t care what he attracts. The only thing that matters is that he also attracts Grian.

It feels futile. The world is vast and Scar doesn’t even know which direction him and Juni took, because he was continuously dosed with weakness. He doesn’t know how to get back to where he saw Grian last. (Days ago—) 

He flies and glides and leaps, yelling, heart feeling like it’s going to explode in his chest. 

And then he hears it.

A sob. A wretchedly (wonderfully) familiar sob.

His ears twitch rapidly, latching onto that. His whole body whips backwards midair, almost making him tumble completely. Frantically, in a haze of vex magic that edges on feral, he delves in the direction where he heard it.

He knows he’s near when his ears flick, catching another sound. Terrified little chirps.

He makes his way down through the trees. Down the branches. Down towards his avian.

---

Grian’s panic breaks the moment he catches sight of those bright spectral wings. Broken. So broken. Tattered and frantic. 

Scar is made of sharp claws and fangs and wisps of pale blue magic. He looks like a monster ready to pounce. He looks absolutely nightmarish and terrifying.

Grian’s never been more relieved in his life.

He scrambles forwards. He’s on his hands and knees and his wing throbs and his face is wounded and none of it matters. Scar rushes to meet him, his wings fading before he’s even on the ground, and he practically falls into an embrace. (His claws stay pressed to his palms, careful, so careful. His tail wraps around them as he holds on, holds on, never wanting to let go again.)

They both cling tightly and cry. Grian’s making garbled noises, as if he was trying to say things, but he’s crying too hard to be coherent; he just paws at Scar and clings and burrows into the comforting safety of his arms. (He thought Scar left him.) (He thought Scar got captured.) (He thought Scar was dead.)

Feeling the shivers and cold skin, Scar scrambles to wrap the cloak around Grian, noticing the limp wing in the process. (His heart hurts.)

The familiar weight of the cloak provides such a small but important sense of security. Grian tucks his wings underneath it, even though it hurts, one of the wings twitching and moving wrong. He hisses in pain, but it gets swallowed up by his sobs and crying.

Amidst it all, Scar isn’t doing well—he only just got clear headed from that constant dose of weakness and he’s just majorly overused his magic, slamming into trees as he glided recklessly—but he has to keep pushing through, keep using his magic to be able to function right now, because Grian is the priority here and Scar won’t rest until he knows Grian is safe.

Here isn’t safe. They’re out in the open, after making loads of noise. And— Grian’s hurt. He’s bleeding. It’s so clear that something happened and Scar wasn’t there and— He can’t bear it, can't forgive himself. 

Grian looks so cold and small and scared. And even though Scar was dosed with weakness potions, at least he was fed and kept warm. At least he was carefully steered away from danger and into shelters, left to rest. At least he wasn’t alone, terrified out of his mind for his life. 

Grian didn’t have any of those luxuries. And there’s no way Scar can undo any of it. 

Now Grian presses close to him, desperate to have him be here and be real. Through the crying, something desperate comes through—something that sounds like “Please don’t leave me again.” 

With a hitched breath and a heart torn to absolute pieces in his chest, Scar shakes his head. He’s choking on sobs as he babbles, “Never, no no no no, never, never—” Urgently, he tucks the ribbon back into Grian’s hands.

Grian thought he lost it forever. He immediately clings to it, in such a desperate, urgent gesture. Needing to feel it in his grasp, to tell himself that it wasn't lost, that its connection persists. That it still belongs to him. (The ribbon and Scar's heart alike—)

“Yours, yours yours yours.” Scar, too, means more than just the ribbon.

Grian cries so hard he can’t breathe. He’s holding onto the ribbon and pressing himself against Scar and— he’s loud. His sobs carry. He can’t get them under control; it’s just so so raw.

With shaking hands, Scar tries to tie the ribbon around Grian’s wrist, where it belongs. He’s shaking too much, he’s struggling. (Trying to ignore the bruising he sees there. As if someone tried to pin Grian down by his wrist—) He’s babbling incoherently through it all, the words that  tumble out of him both reassurances and apologies, repeating that he’s here, he’s here, he’s so sorry. Once he manages to get the ribbon tied, his words stumble through “This is yours, always yours, I’m yours, I’m sorry—”

Grian  has no words beyond Scar’s name.

In all of this, Scar’s feeling weird. He wants to scoop Grian up and never let go, but he’s a little afraid of his claws— a little afraid of himself, really. This has never happened quite like this, with the surge of vex magic that borders on feral. He is lucid but off. He still feels a bit like he’s spinning. This is real, right? It’s real?

A frightened squeeze to Grian’s hands is reciprocated with a squeeze back and a whimper. Scar makes a quick decision to pull Grian up, to lift him and hold  him tight. (He feels so urgent and needy, desperate and afraid that Grian is going to slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.) He tries not to be rough, but he still feels only barely in control of his own body. And despite the bruises and wounds that litter Grian’s body—despite everything hurting—Grian barely makes a sound of pain, instead tucking himself closely to Scar. Relieved to be held, to feel him so near. Trusting him fully with himself.

Securely holding Grian, Scar breaks into a run. His ears twitch, catching sounds of the forest as he tries to avoid them all. It’s chaotic. It’s all a bit of a blur. He keeps slurring more nonsense to Grian: “Sorry, safe, safe, never again, sorry.” Something broken about “love”. 

Once Scar finds a semi-safe place, he kneels down, but he’s hesitant to let Grian go. Everything feels weird and light and he’s terrified it’s a dream he’s waking up from.

Grian isn’t any better, though; he keeps clinging to him, too. Scar was gone for so long and now he’s randomly back? He can’t quite process it; all that he knows is that he’s terrified to let go. (He remembers feeling woozy on weakness potions, and he remembers the deep pit of the fever from that arrow wound way back, and... This feels similar. Like maybe he’s not quite aware, not quite getting things right. Maybe— Maybe Scar isn’t here?) 

 Grian begs Scar to stay. (He feels like he’s asked that of him before, but it’s hazy in his exhausted mind.)

Scar can feel himself falling from the high of his magic; he feels weak again, confused, distant. But he latches onto that. “I’m not leaving,” he says, suddenly so clear. “He— he tricked me…” his voice wobbles. He feels awful, like a failure. He doesn’t want to think of the mimic ever again. He’s terrified to as well. The fact that he didn’t kill him means he could return—

Grian feels such a tangled mess at that admission. He wonders if Scar felt better with Juni? It took so long for him to realise and go looking for Grian, maybe he was better off with the fake one? It's so... it's so horrible to think that Scar took this long to realise Grian wasn't with him.

Scar still hasn’t let him down, instead falling to his knees entirely and cradling Grian close. He doesn’t want to admit how hard he fell for the trick. He hates himself for it. What if he didn’t find Grian? 

His skin feels prickly and odd like his whole body has fallen asleep. He’s numb and weak and heavy and— Is he drugged again? 

He wants to provide so many answers but— His skin is pulsing an off whitish blue. And he just croaks, “S–something’s wrong. I don’t feel— Grian. I don’t feel good.”

That singular admission throws Grian into sharp focus, panicked. He ignores his bruises and aches and the cold and tiredness, the wooziness from hunger and thirst—all of it. Instead, he whips to attention, looking Scar over. Trying to get him to tell Grian what’s wrong. (Obviously the colour is wrong—Scar’s not meant to pulsate with magic hue like this. But Grian doesn’t understand it. He’s never seen it. He’s— He’s so scared that this is something he won’t be able to help with, won’t be able to fix.)

Instead of a constructive answer, Scar stammers, slurred: “Did you— he— more potions?” He feels like he’s falling past some edge. His body won’t listen to him. His thoughts are turning fuzzy and staticky and he’s sick to his stomach, thinking about weakness potions.

Grian’s holding his cheeks, trying to keep eye contact. He doesn’t think a potion could do this. He pleads with Scar to tell him what does he need. How can he help?

The genuine concern from Grian horribly reminds Scar of the mimic. The nausea churns in his stomach, acidic, and he feels painfully helpless in this moment as everything seems to slip past his fingers. “Please be real?” 

Grian makes a miserable sound, edging a startled sob. Something aborted and strained. His thumbs brush over Scar’s skin and he leans in. “I’m real,” he promises weakly, desperately, sealing it with a soft kiss to Scar’s cheek. And then another one to his temple, and his eyebrow, and his forehead. A swelling build up of helpless heartache translates to hot tears dripping down Grian’s face. “I’m here. You found me. I’m here.” 

The tenderness, as well as the easy forwardness of the affection help reassure Scar. Juni wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He never did. (Maybe Scar should’ve realised sooner—)

Grian’s fingers brush over Scar’s cheeks. His touch is featherlight, gentle, as if he was worried Scar will break underneath his fingertips. (Scar’s skin still pulsates, a sickly hue that reminds Grian of those awful, rotting vines they found in a cave so many months ago.) (He doesn’t know what’s wrong with Scar and it terrifies him.) His breath hitches, and then he finds himself saying, “Please don’t leave me.” His voice cracks. It’s so awful.

The words snap Scar to attention—as much as he can currently manage. “God— No. No, not leaving.” The flickering hue of magic across Scar's skin speeds up, like a panicky heartbeat stuttering out of rhythm.

The change frightens Grian and he scrambles to make things better, in any way he can. He thinks maybe they need to stop panicking first. Maybe— Maybe they both just need to take a deep breath. Surely they could both benefit from some proper breathing.

He suggests just that, and it does help somewhat. The flickering slows and steadies and almost fades, and Grian moves to pepper Scar’s face with soft kisses, tiny and light and greedy. And wet. Because he can't seem to stop crying.

Grian’s own cheek throbs with his unhealed wound, but he doesn’t pay it any attention. He just needs— He needs Scar to be okay, and he needs him to be right here with him, and he needs both of them to believe that this is real.

With deliberation, he moves his hands to brush them over Scar’s ears, knowing full well how sensitive they are. Remembering Scar’s flush, that very first time, and the way his ears twitched underneath Grian’s touch. A weak, destabilised chuckle precedes his strained words, ready to break. “Remember when I did this before?”

Scar barks out a little laugh at that. And… it helps. It helps to hear Grian bringing up a private, intimate memory they both share. 

And then all of a sudden, he’s begging for forgiveness. “I messed up. I’d… I’d never leave you, Grian.” Even with a leaden, exhausted body, he pulls together enough strength to graze his fingers over the wound on Grian’s face, his touch gentle and sad. 

Grian falls quiet for a moment, breaths still tripping in his throat, coming out shaky. “I thought— I thought you—” He can’t say it.

“Never.”

Exhaling, Grian falls against Scar. He curls up and presses into the crook of his neck.

Scar still feels tingly and strange and light, but it’s almost pleasant now. Like he could pretend it’s from Grian and not overextertion. Like it’s just silly nerves. And even though he wants nothing more but to collapse, to curl up with Grian in his arms and drift off to sleep, he can’t. He can’t have that.

Because Grian’s wounded, and hungry, and so horribly exhausted, and Scar needs to patch him up and grant him some safety. He needs to try to clean Grian’s wounds. (On next to no supplies.) He needs to get him to eat something. (He doesn’t have anything to offer; he fled Juni so fast, unable to think past Grian might be dying right now.) He needs to let Grian rest, after a week of horror; he needs to take watch and let Grian sleep. (He’s so, so tired, the magic overuse weighing him down in a way that makes him almost certain he wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight.)

This feels familiarly miserable.

But Grian isn’t dying.

He isn’t dying, and Scar found him, and they’re together. And he won’t let anything separate them ever again.

(But he might not have a choice.)

[stiffyck]

Hello I’m the same person who sent the fluff > toxic interpretations of desert duo ask yesterday, thank you for your fluff service o7

Grian insisted on keeping watch. Scar was the first red, and his antics certainly hadn’t made allies out of the whole server. He sat upon the highest tower of their sandcastle with his knees drawn up to his chest beneath his poncho and wings furled close to his back in defense against the cold. He would’ve never expected a desert to grow so frigid, but it was positively biting now.

It was dull work, surveying expanse empty save for the sand their monopoly was built upon and the torches sporadically stuck in it for light. Maybe his worries were fruitless, Grian privately conceded. None of the greens or yellows would have any reason to invade; Scar hasn’t attacked anyone yet. Still, Grian kept to his post. Thoughts raced through his mind a million miles an hour, he’s not sure he could bear laying in bed alone with them.

The moon had shifted to shine directly above the desert when Grian heard a rustling from somewhere below him. He was instantly on alert, hand steady on the sword at his waist, but the alarm eased as Scar’s head poked through the opening to the tower, scaling the rest of the way up the latter and plonking down next to Grian.

After Grian finished scolding Scar for joining him when he should’ve been resting, Scar admitted that he couldn’t sleep.

Grian couldn’t fault him for that, as much as he wanted to shove the man right back down the latter and make him go to bed, so he settled for carefully shifting closer to Scar. Scar in turn responded by laying his head on Grian’s shoulder, and though Grian wasn’t sure how comfortable that could be, given their height difference, he was almost scared to breathe too deeply, lest it disturb him.

With nothing to observe on the ground, Scar nudged Grian’s attention towards the sky. The stars really were dazzling above their desert home, breathtaking with their proud galaxies and opulent glow. Maybe it reminded Grian of someone’s eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

They took turns pointing out constellations they made up on the spot, Scar finding Pizza the llama in three different star clusters. They shared quiet laughter, and the feeling was warm in Grian’s chest. Soon, his eyelids started to droop, and Grian felt Scar stifle a yawn beside him.

In unspoken agreement, Scar and Grian helped each other up and retreated down the ladder. Scar shook out the blanket for any stray sand while Grian unhooked his sword from his belt and striped off his armor. Together they climbed into the bed they shared, and the way they curled toward each other was routine. Scar hooked an arm over Grian’s hip and tucked his chin into Grian’s hair, Grian holding him in return.

It was a soft sort of intimacy, safe amidst the death games of their own making and the uncertainly Grian could be sure tomorrow will hold. It was love. Together, they slept.

AUGH JSJFKWKGKWMR CRYING THEYRE SO SPFT PH MY GOD SJVKSKGKWKG

I love them anon this is so sweet awwwww

[scarabies]

There's a ruffle of feathers from behind him- the overwhelming smell of paint, and then there are two arms around his shoulders and feet in the air behind his chair as he rolls forward a few feet.

"You won!!!" Grian shouts, laughing into his ear as Scar laughs in turn, spinning on a dime and letting Grian crash into his lap instead. "You won!!!"

 "We won!!!" Scar echoes, fondness welling up inside him to the point where it fills his eyes with tears. 

 "You won," Grian says, slapping his hands onto Scar's cheeks and pulling him in for a brief, breathless kiss. "You- you did amazing, Scar!"

“Hey, I didn’t do it alone,” Scar says, the heavy weight of Grian grounding. His whole body is shaking- mind reeling, the crown slipping off his head a little bit to the side. Grian sits back a little and fixes it, fingers gentle on the cool metal.

“I know, but still,” he says. Someone presses a drink into his hands, laughter and chatter surrounding them as Grian inspects the coconut with one eye and then turns his gaze fully back to Scar. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Scar says, and he can feel himself flushing, but god, it’s worth it. His hands tremble and Grian presses the cool skin of the coconut into his palms, leaning forward to counteract the chill with another warm kiss. “Do I get a prize?” he mumbles against his lips and Grian laughs, eyes filled with joy and exhaustion as they part again.

“Maybe later,” he says. “I am so tired. You’re going to have to carry me home.”

“I can do that,” Scar tells him, despite the fact his arms are jelly and his breath comes quick when he moves around too much. He can always carry Grian home, help him wash off the paint from his feathers, bask in his victory with him by his side. “I’m Hotguy.”

“You sure are,” Grian says, settling down a bit more on his legs, getting comfortable. He leans his cheek up against Scar’‘s neck, warm breath spilling out into the evening air. “I’m just so thrilled for you. Really.”

“Yeah,” Scar breathes, one hand coming up to gently cradle the lower portion of Grian’s back, keep him there, keep him steady; affection flows freely, and he tips his head to the sky and shuts his eyes to keep the tears from spilling. “I couldn’t be happier.”

[aquinnix]

Febuwhump Day 17 - Hostage Situation

“Don’t make a sound or I can make this a lot quicker for the both of us.” The words were filled with poison. Mumbo did as he was told, keeping his shaking body and still as he could manage. Someone was behind him, holding a blade against his neck and a hand over his eyes. “Good. Now you are going to walk, very slowly. Ok?” Mumbo almost nodded before realizing that would have ended with the knife breaking skin. His assailant seemed to take his silence as a yes and began to push him forward, Mumbo’s knees almost giving out from under him. They walked for what felt like hours, Mumbo passing the time by coming up with various methods to escape this situation, only to scrap them all. Most of his focus was taken up by not tripping anyway. “Stop.” Mumbo froze in place, not because of the command, but because of the words that had come only moments before. 

“Mumbo! Are you alright? What did you do to him? What do you want?” Each syllable filled his pain and rage, with Grian’s pain. It took everything in Mumbo’s power to stay silent, and to hold back the tears pressing at the back of his eyes. The hand fell away, revealing they were standing in a cave, Grian was on the other side, eyes swelling with fury. 

The figure’s voice remained painfully steady and monotone. “You need to come home.” 

Grian took a step forward. “I thought I made it very clear I am never going back to that place.” 

The blade pressed further into Mumbo’s neck, drawing blood. “You might want to reconsider.” 

Mumbo and Grian’s eyes met for just a moment, revealing their shared fear. Grian looked back up, if Mumbo didn't know better he would have said Grian’s flashed purple. “Let him go.” Each word was slow and sharp. 

A small chuckle came from behind Mumbo. “All you have to do is come with me, and no more harm will come to him, or your other friends.” The last word was spit with disgust. Mumbo had no idea what was happening, but he certainly didn't want Mr Stern Voice to take Grian away from him. 

He met Grian’s gaze, and silently mouthed the words Its ok, don’t sacrifice yourself for me. I'm not worth it. 

A single tear slid down Grian’s cheek. “Fine.” Mumbo’s heart sank, he had just told Grian not to! He should have known better than to think Grian would have done anything he told him to. 

The blade fell away and Mumbo was shoved to the ground, coughing and sputtering. He barely got up in time to see Grian’s heartbroken face fade to purple and disappear. 

His best friend was gone, and whether he liked it or not, he could only blame himself. 

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

It's 1am right now, but the whole concept of Roomies There Was Only One Bed Trope has taken over my thoughts today so much, and it leads way too much into every thought I gave about the Roomies as a whole

Just. First off the hilarity of it all, that there are three of them all living in the space and the only person they think to make a bed and bedroom for is Bdubs, who doesn't even live there

But beyond that, the idea that the three of them, all who have a tendency to be very self-sufficient and keep their distance from their teammates, who probably all have trust issues to some degree (Cleo absolutely does, at the very least. I think Grian's — and maybe also Etho's — trust issues are more towards himself), who, within the context of Life Series, aren't terribly clingy or affectionate, and who all mesh so well almost because of how they don't need each other-

But they do, they each needed the space they grant each other, and the relative trust and loyalty they all give, even when joking at times that they might not expect any loyalty of each other (especially towards Grian, the outdoors cat of the group. Cleo and Etho are a bit more assuming of each other's loyalty). Ultimately having each other as a steady place to return, an anchor for their wandering and loose canon tendencies

So the Only One Bed Situation provides them that easy excuse for closeness, and thus to subtly and subconscious demonstrate their trust in being as entirely vulnerable and guards down as they physically can be around each other. By nature of the Life Series being death games trust, safety, and quiet (non-sexual) intimacy / physical affection aren't exactly the easiest things to come by, and it's just a nice way to save them from the touch starved state they would often have to deal with

(And I could also get into that as a whole with Secret Life, how everyone seemed more focused on finding ways to slip peace and domesticity into their lives this time round, but this post is too long already)

Anyways, I'm gonna keep rewatching their Secret Life so I can get more fuel to maybe try writing a fic for this idea, because it is very beloved to me right now