#grian can never escape the desert

[dmwrites]

Cecil: Birds of a feather stick together. But if that bird loses its way, it will be lost forever. Welcome… to NightVale.

[intro song plays]

Cecil: Listeners, today I have a guest with me here in the studio! Intern Vincent found our guest wandering in the desert as he was driving to the station this morning, and I jumped at the idea of having this guest on our show! So, why don’t you introduce yourself, mystery guest!

???: I’m… Grian. My name’s Grian.

Cecil: Well, welcome to our small community radio show, Grian! Listeners, Grian is-

Grian: Did you say listeners?

Cecil: Why yes! All of our wonderful citizens of NightVale, even the secret police, are listeners of my show!

Grian: Oh… never mind.

Cecil: As I was saying, listeners, our wonderful, if a tad interrupting-y, guest Grian is wearing a torn red sweater, black pants, and closed-toed shoes. I must say, that’s quite a fashion statement, Grian! Not too many people would wear a sweater in the desert. You must not be from around here!

Grian: I… no, I’m not. I’m not quite sure how I got here… I just… I thought I could escape the desert if I walked far enough.

Cecil: Well, as long as you’re not from Desert Bluffs, I’ll call you a friend! Eugh, Desert Bluffs, am I right? But speaking of Desert Bluffs, let me remind all of you that our half-a-millennia traditional triathlon against Desert Bluffs is almost upon us! Volunteers, taken from their homes at four in the morning with bags over their heads, will be competing in three sports events against our bitter rivals, Desert Bluffs. The three sports events, as is tradition, will be: bloodstone dodgeball, confronting the in-laws over broken boundaries, and pickleball. Good luck, NightVale athletes!

Grian: Did you just say, like, words? Like, genuinely, it feels like I just had a stroke. What on earth is a bloodstone?

Cecil: You know, I should have known you weren’t from around here, what with your funny accent. Where are you from, silly little man?

Grian: I… well, that’s a tough one, really. Hermitcraft? Third Life SMP? The Desert? All of them, I suppose. I really don’t know how I got here… I’m not sure this isn’t all a mirage.

Cecil: And you say I say strange things! Well, Grian, I was about to remark on how other cultures may not have bloodstones, but I just noticed all of the blood on your knuckles, and under your fingernails, and on the cuffs of your sweater, which I still do not think is seasonally appropriate.

Grian: Oh god. I thought I scrubbed it off with the sand. Scar…

Cecil: While we figure out the mysteries of the blood here in the studio, and Grian stares down at his hands in horror, let’s take a look at traffic. There is a man with a clock. He stands. He smiles. He will never stop smiling. They will call him a traitor someday, but for now, the traitor lies dead, the present he gave in the hands of that smiling man. They do not know that the clock, golden in its edges, will bind them together in ways they can’t even understand yet.

Grian: Scar is- Scar was my friend. I promised my life to him.

Cecil: I’ve promised my life to someone too! But it was marriage, to my beautiful Carlos. I love Carlos so much.

Grian: Scar… god, he was such a blundering fool, but with a heart and voice of gold. I didn’t think he’d get as far as he did, but we just kept getting away with it. We didn’t think about the end.

Cecil: What did this Scar wear? This is a audio medium, after all, Grian, and I must describe everything to the listeners.

Grian: He didn’t wear much, like, ever. Super annoying, too many abs.

Cecil: There is no such thing as too many abs, Grian.

Grian: I- sure, okay. Can I get back to my story now?

Cecil: Yes, please do! I am sure everyone, especially the secret police, are very interested.

Grian: I killed him with a creeper first. It was a prank, a mistake, but it really cemented the idea that this wasn’t all fun and games. It felt like fun and games for a long time, even after he died for the first time. It wasn’t until-

Cecil: And now, a word from our sponsor. Listeners, are you tired of having a perfect dog? Does your dog-food photo perfect dog leave you the laughing stock of the town? Do you ever wish you could put an imperfection on your dog so you could just fit in? Now you can, with warts! Just put warts on your precious pooch, and slide blissfully back into the dreary backdrop of life while walking them on their leashes. Dog Warts: because nothing can stay perfect forever.

Grian: I… I had to kill him. They- the ghosts of all of my friends, they told me there could only be one victor, and I… god… we stood in a circle of cactus, so we couldn’t leave, and we fought with our fists. I kept hitting him and hitting him and, god, Scar was never the best at fighting… and we were both laughing and I was crying and there was so much blood… it took so long for him to die, Cecil, and all I could do was keep hurting him, so he wouldn’t suffer. And then I was… alone. I said I was sorry, but he couldn’t hear me. No one could hear me anymore. I had won, but at what cost?

Cecil: That’s very dark! Uh, listeners, our guest Grian has a tear running down his cheek, and I am afraid he may burst into outright sobbing! To save you from that audio nightmare, I take you now to the weather!

[Howling by Lupus Nocte plays]

Cecil: Listeners, Grian is gone. He has left the station. He ran out, muttering something about “never being able to escape the desert”… whatever that means. Maybe we should stop inviting random people we find on the side of the deserted road with blood on their knuckles into the studio… but I am afraid that’s all the time we have for today, listeners. Stay tuned next for a canary, stuck in a cage made of bones, singing sadly for none to hear. NightVale, hug your loved ones close tonight. You never know what may happen next. And good night, NightVale, good night.

[raileurta]

Anyone else thinking about how if Grian didn't forget to put a block for the TNT minecarts scar would have died and wouldn't have won Secret life?

[birrdies]

“when I say you are killing me” (desert duo one-shot, 2.6k)

Every inch of his climb is agony. White-hot and endless, it ricochets through Scar’s body as if it bought an expressway pass through his veins like a highway. Would it have killed Grian to get an apartment on the first floor? Hell, Scar would even take something on the third or fourth-floor if he had to. Anything would be better than dragging himself, slowly and painfully, up twelve flights of rickety metal stairs. In the snow. In the middle of the night. Bleeding.

Scar’s having a bad night.

Blood dribbles between the gaps of his fingers. It’s slower than it had been, but each heave up another flight of stairs blinds him with pain and sends a few more fresh droplets of blood sliding down his middle. His shirt (whatever tatters remain of it anyway) and pants are wet and tacky, sticking to his skin like a perpetually wet bathing suit as he tries to climb the rest of the way up to Grian’s apartment.

The fire escape is an old decrepit fixture of rusting metal mounted to the brick siding with nothing more than a few loose bolts and a dream. It groans beneath his weight, the barest shake of wind causing the metal to ripple and shudder. The metal saps the warmth from his already cold, pale fingertips. He’d had gloves, but had to get rid of them as they were soaked in blood and not all-that conducive for climbing-under-the-influence (of blood loss). Scar’s not afraid of much, least of all heights, but he chooses each step up the fire escape carefully, muscle memory a crutch as he drags himself past open windows with the lights still on. Last thing he needs is another broadcast claiming HotGuy is nothing but a petty creep with a penchant for B&Es.

By the time he reaches the twelfth floor he’s shaking from head-to-to. Each breath sears through him, rivaling the sharp-edged pain of lightning, setting him alight. It burns through him, the aftershocks never ending as he pulls himself upright and grasps onto the edges of Grian’s windowsill. A pained whine catches between his teeth; he refuses to let it out.

Curled up at Grian’s windowsill as he peeks through the drawn curtains at the warm lamplight cascading through the glass, Scar finds the painful climb was well worth each and every second of agony. No better minded than a moth drawn to a flame Scar leans in to rest his forehead against the glass, the warm, golden glow from within Grian’s apartment beckoning him forward. Inside, Grian’s sitting at his desk around a cluster of books and papers strewn around as if a bomb had gone off. His hair is fuzzy and curled at the tips, as it always is whenever Grian lets it air dry after a shower. His shoulders are hunched and the sides of his face are illuminated by the blue glow of his laptop screen. Even through the glass Scar can hear the incessant clacking of his keys as he furiously types away at whatever assignment he’s working on.

It takes Scar more than one try to build up the courage to disturb him. He looks peaceful (or about as peaceful as someone working on a lab report can be), and Scar knows that peace will shatter the second he knocks, the second he barges in, yet again, on Grian’s evening and sweeps him up in his vigilante shenanigans.

Scar’s bloodied hands grasp onto the windowsill, red streaks staining the chipping white paint like a crime scene out of some gruesome horror movie Grian would have him watch. He winces at the sight; it’ll be a nightmare to scrub out. He’ll have to remember to buy Grian dinner one of these days to make it up to him and hope that Grian will have the heart, eventually, to forgive him.

“Grian,” he mumbles, startled to find his voice nothing more than a gravelly rasp. He reaches to knock, but his arms are as stiff as uncooked spaghetti noodles and don’t listen to a word he has to say. With a huff of frustration, Scar pitches his weight forward and thumps his head twice against the glass. The dull ache through his forehead is nothing compared to the feverish burning tearing through his chest and stomach.

Inside, a shadow bolts across the floor. Grian’s cat, Maui. In his chair Grian twists around at the sound. He’s wearing his glasses— Scar’s heart drops low in his stomach at the sight— and squints through the darkness to see Scar sheepishly waving at him through the glass, his breath fogging it up just enough to be seen.

He unfurls himself from his chair and comes to pry the window open. Scar comes face-to-face with his heart-patterned pajama pants, two sizes too big and pooling around his ankles. Wait, are those Scar’s?

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Grian is asking before Scar manages to start dragging himself in through the open window. It’s only for the briefest millisecond, in Grian’s ignorance, that Scar can be grateful for the starless, moonless night. The dark shields him not only from the prying eyes of neighbors, but from Grian’s scrutiny. In this dark he can’t see the blood, can’t see the tears in his shirt. In the dark, he might just look a little ruffled, no worse for wear than he usually is after a busy night patrolling. In the dark, he and Grian can pretend, albeit for only a second, that everything is normal.

But as the pain and dark corners throbbing in his periphery are keen on reminding him, everything is very much not normal.

“I seemed to have lost my watch,” Scar says as he pulls himself in through the open window. Every movement is measured, half-withheld, ginger— everything that Scar isn’t, and he’d be a fool to think Grian wouldn’t notice. He does immediately, because he’s Grian, and he’s never been truly ignorant when it comes to Scar, despite Scar’s best intentions.

Grian steps back with wide eyes. The color drains from his face as Scar holds his weight against the wall with one blood-slicked hand and struggles to stand at his full height. Every inch he tries to stand taller, the more the swelling edges of the wound start to pull and ache.

“Scar?” Grian’s face, usually so warm and vivid, especially under the light of his desk lamp, pales to a near lifeless color. He staggers toward him, hands held out in front of him as if to catch Scar. “Scar, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Right as rain, G,” Scar says, managing a wry smile. “Honest.”

“Don’t give me that.” Grian rushes forward, grabbing Scar around the shoulders and steering him towards the futon in the middle of the room. The second Grian touches him some of Scar’s pain fades, if not just because he has somewhere else to pitch his weight, to take some of the strain off his bloodied, torn middle.

The pair of them hobble to the futon, Grian whispering mumbled nothings as he lowers Scar onto the edge and forces him to sit back with firm hands on his shoulders. Scar allows himself the smallest mercy of relaxing into the cushions, his arms and legs limp at his sides as his head lulls back to rest against the back of the futon. It’s as if every string tying his marionette up, stringing him along, has been cut all at once. It’s somehow blissful and terrifying all at the same time. He’s not sure he’s ever been this roughed up, this exhausted.

And in front of Grian of all people?

Grian, whose face is drawn tight, whose shoulders and jaw are rigid as if he’s been made out of wood. Grian, who anxiously flutters at Scar’s side for a second before disappearing in a flurry toward the kitchen. Scar’s head is too heavy for him to lift, but he hears Grian rummaging and cursing under his breath before he returns just as quickly as he left. In his arms he balances a handful of small dishtowels, a first-aid kit, and a box of blue rubber gloves.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, to himself more than to Scar, as he sits on his knees on the cushion beside Scar and leans over to assess the wounds.

Gingerly he pulls the tattered shreds of his black shirt away from the wound-bed (as much as he can with some of the fabric stuck to his body with blood like glue) and winces at the gory sight. Scar’s skin is torn in jagged ridges, three gouge marks clawed from just under his ribs and down across his right abdomen. Thankfully, the worst of the bleeding seems to have stopped, dark, thick globules of blood already starting to stitch together like wads of hot glue around the wound, crusting on the skin.

Grian examines it all with a crease between his brow that Scar, after all this time, has come to know means he’s irritated. He’s always looked especially cute when he’s angry (part of the reason it’s just too easy for Scar to give into the temptation to push his buttons whenever possible), but the downturn of his lips, the whites of his eyes, reveals something far more serious. Worry. Grian’s worried about him, and maybe it’s the blood loss starting to get to Scar in earnest, but Scar finds he far prefers this sight. He can’t help but smile back at him, even though he knows it’ll likely earn him a punch when he’s no longer bleeding out on Grian’s couch.

“Scar.” Grian says his name as if he’s been saying it for a while, but Scar’s only just now hearing it. “This is bad. Like, really bad.”

Scar blinks down his nose at him, brow furrowed. “You should see the other guy,” he says with a weak huff of laughter. “Stuck him so full of arrows you could call him a porcupine.”

“Scar, this is serious,” Grian admonishes, snapping on a pair of gloves and brushing his hair from his eyes.

“But you’re gonna fix me right up, ain’t you, Doc?” Sar teases, lifting his head just enough to catch Grian’s scowl as he flicks open the first-aid kit and fishes out a small brown bottle.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” Grian says, and there he goes again— detached, analytical, dawning his ‘I’m calm and collected’ persona. He pulls a pair of scissors out of the first-aid kit and tests the snap of them. “This doesn’t look like it was from some kind of a knife—”

“Ravager,” Scar says, gritting his teeth in anticipation. “Jerk got too close.”

Grian raises an eyebrow. “Sounds more like you got too cocky.”

Again, Scar finds himself fighting (and failing) to conceal a smug little smile. “You’re worried about me, just say it.”

“I’m pissed off is what I am,” Grian snaps. He peels up one edge of Scar’s shirt and begins cutting away as much of the fabric as he can without disturbing the edges of Scar’s wounds. He winces only when the shirt tugs too sharply on the red, puffy edges of the wound. And Grian, to Scar’s surprise, nearly flinches every time he does.

“Sorry, sorry,” Grian whispers each time, sounding so unlike himself. His face is pale, and if Scar isn’t mistaken there’s the faintest tremble to his hand.

“It’s okay,” Scar says, just as hushed, as if the slightest movement or raise in his voice will spook Grian. “Do what you gotta do. I’m tough, I’m strong. I can take it.”

Grian scoffs and peels a foil lid from the bottle’s cap, dumping a bit of it onto a folded dishrag. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see how tough and strong you are once I start cleaning this.”

“Give me your worst, Doc.” Scar lets his head loll back to stare at the ceiling, taking as deep a breath as his tense, wounded chest will allow. The twinge of pain reminds him to stay awake, has his fingers curling into the fabric of the futon beneath him.

Grian doesn’t give Scar a warning, which he appreciates. The anticipation is the worst part. He grits his teeth and bares it as Grian firmly, but not violently, uses the alcohol-soaked rag to wash away the blood from his torn skin. Scar scrunches his eyes shut and breathes through it, the pain an unrelenting impulse racing through his veins like faulty circuitry gone haywire.

And as soon as it starts, it’s over. Grian sits back on his heels and tosses the now blood-soaked rag to the floor. He wipes at the sweat blistering across his forehead with his arm, taking a shaky breath in as he examines his handiwork.

“It’s not too deep,” he says, sounding the slightest bit relieved. He twists to reach for the first-aid kit again. “You’re lucky I swiped this stuff from the lab. Though I won’t begin to guess why you came here instead of a hospital. This needs stitches, probably.”

“Eh, I’m not worried about another scar,” Scar dismisses, ignoring the small beads of sweat starting to gather on his own brow. He can’t handle Grian thinking he’s caused him any more pain; the only thing worse than suffering as he is now is to watch Grian torture himself over things he can’t control. Like Scar. “Besides, I can’t exactly keep up the whole secret identity thing if I go to a hospital half in costume, now can I?”

“Secret identity,” Grian parrots mockingly, unraveling a bundle of bandages and starting to tack them down around Scar’s middle. “You nearly got gutted, and that’s what you’re worried about. Of course.”

He’s angry. Scar would be an idiot to not be able to see it, and maybe it shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does. But it’s not the anger that catches Scar off guard. It’s what lingers beneath it: Grian’s gloved, trembling hands, the way he can’t look Scar in the eye more than a second before having to look away, burying himself in sorting through the first-aid kit for the fourth time as if looking for something to help and, just like every other time, coming up empty-handed.

Grian’s scared.

Scar’s known Grian for years now, and over that time he’s been a lot of things. Angry, judgmental, infectiously funny, bright. But afraid has never been a word Scar has used to describe him.

“Grian…”

“Of course I’m worried,” Grian says, catching Scar off guard. His voice is so quiet, so hushed that Scar wonders if he imagined it. Because something so vulnerable and soft sounding couldn’t come from someone as headstrong and impervious as Grian. It simply isn’t possible. “How could I not be? Have you looked at yourself?”

“Hey.” Scar can’t dream of sitting up, but he manages to leverage himself up just enough to reach for Grian’s wrist. He’ll feel bad about staining Grian’s sleeves with blood later. For now he needs to grab hold of him, pull him in close. To reassure him. “I’m fine. I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m in good hands, yeah?”

“Scar,” Grian says, sounding like he’s about to start crying. He curls his fingers into a weak fist, as if to pull from Scar’s grasp, but he doesn’t try it. He only holds it there, waiting. “I’m not exactly qualified. I’m a bio student, not a—”

“You’re doing fine,” Scar insists, caressing the inner aspect of Grian’s wrist with his thumb. There, he can feel the furious pace Grian’s heart takes on at the touch, like his pulse is ready to leap out from beneath the thin layer of skin. He flashes a smile, just to prove it to Grian. “I’ve bounced back from a lot worse than this. I’m just glad I don’t have to do it alone this time.”

[seralyra]

I never fully realized how much of a mirror flower husbands are to the desert duo. Both Scott and Grian are absolute chaos gremlins. Albeit Grian is more of the explosive kind while Scott rather likes to poke and observe.

And both Jimmy and Scar are very oblivious and easily die. That they were both in charge of the button and lever for the desert traps in 3rd Life still baffles me. I mean yes they would have been dead dead but yeah in hindsight the only way this could have gone is wrong.

They aren't perfect mirrors though. They are uneven in the most intriguing ways. While Scar never really left the desert, Scott never really left the flower valley. And both Grian and Jimmy are trying very hard to escape through any means.

Seeing them again in Grians 3rd life movie I now kinda want to see what would happen if Scott and Grian teamed up. With Grian and Scar it's always going to be aggressive chaos. Both just love to make each other worse.

Jimmy and Grian will just bring out the silly in each other. We saw that in Limited Life. I'm not sure how Scott and Scar would do together. They might balance each other out or they would end up enemies. Although I'd love to hear the innuendos those two would come up with.

I'm most intrigued by Scott and Grian because they both love chaos and can be devious, but have very distinctive styles. I think they'd make a good "power couple". And they both already won a life series. So that means they could just fool around with others for fun.

[mochiwrites]

I genuinely love when people depict third life or 3l!scar as a ghost that’s haunting grian. like that is !!!! an incredibly powerful narrative. that man is haunted by the desert and how it all went down, and he cannot escape the memories of it, the feelings, the reminders. he can try to ignore it all he wants, can try to move on and act like it never happened, or pretend like it wasn’t as important as it truly was, but deep down, grian knows. he left a part of himself there, on that mountain. sand follows him in his footsteps and 3l!scar is his shadow. haunt that bird boy!!!!!

[glisteningreverie]

It’s been a while since Double Life ended and I know I’m pretty late to the train on this one but,

There’s just something MAGICAL about watching the different perspectives in just the right order.

It’s important to note I that the first four Episode Four’s I watched was in the following order: Jimmy, Scar, Grian, and finally, Scott.

Jimmy and Tango started the episode wanting Scar’s pandas dead, only to find themselves on Scar’s side when they “inconveniently” find themselves in the middle of the conflict between Grian, Joel, and Etho. There’s a sudden sense of Camaraderie between the Ranchers and the Desert Duo, and so Jimmy is horrified when the pandas are set aflame. And when Scar jumps off the Spiky Defense Platform? Abject TERROR in his voice, only for that shock to turn into amazement when Scar survives. The moment is killed, however, when Jimmy is shot off the platform. RIP.

Scar decides to go down to the Deep Dark even though he’s not supposed to. He spies something flying in the distance, realizes that it’s Grian, and assumes that he’s being reckless on purpose (But as we know from watching the Grian POV afterwards, his brief return to his career as a bird was completely against his will) Thus, Scar feels justified in heading down to the deep dark, kicking off a truly chaotic chain of events.

Because when Grian accidentally gets Etho and Joel killed and the reds (plus Scott, Cleo, and Martyn) roll up to their base, the assumption is that they’re after Scar and Grian. Scar does his truly incredible Water Bucket Landing and after a quick chase, the episode ends.

Grian is understandably stressed throughout this whole episode. Martyn, Etho, and Joel were playing with his life using fishing rods. Scar went to the Deep Dark and swiped the Enchanter. Grian used the same fishing rod trick at the Modern Chateau and the fallout was significant. He creates the spiky defense platform only to realize he made it out of wood, again. He can see a mob of people congregating in the distance, and when they show up, Scar throws himself off the platform to save the pandas, practically giving Grian a heart attack. He’s not used to being the victim of other people’s chaos. When Jimmy and Tango die, he manages to make his great escape and meet up with Scar in a secluded part of the map.

It all comes together in Scott’s episode, where it’s discovered that this whole thing was NEVER about Scar and Grian. He and Cleo ordered a hit on Tango and Jimmy. The Boat Boys mainly agreed because Tango and Jimmy happened to unlock the Enchanter achievement, and they’d been looking for it all episode. The story beats all come together as if they’d been intertwined by the gods of chaos and it was THE MOST insane watching experience I’ve ever had.

[amethystfairy1]

Cloggin the askbox with scenarios is going to be a regular thing now

This time the lovely scenario is gonna be a 6 1/2 hour roadtrip to uh whatever is 6 1/2 hours away.just gonna shove the desert duo,treebark,flower husbands,and an extra pearl into one car because the average car can fit 7-9 people?? (I'm no car expert but hoping someone has a big car then also it's probably gonna be like a 2-3 day roadtrip at like a cute barn airbnb so they only need like two backpacks each max but of course it's only gonna be Scott and pearl that actually brings two backpacks)

No matter who's driving I feel like it's only necessary for Scott to get stuck with martyn and ren even though he could've been with Jimmy (I think pearl is keeping Jimmy with her in the front for the sake to piss off Scott) and then grian and scar would probably be in the back just secretly eating the snacks that they brought.everyone probably is taking shifts of who's driving every hour of so with the exception of grian because 1. He's short I don't think he'd see very much and 2. He coincidentally falls asleep when they're choosing who to swap shifts with?

By hour one everyone is already cranky probably because everyone had to wake up at 4am and then get ready to get to the car where martyn or Scott with the first shift would drive for the hour first.Scar probably supplied everyone (including grian and his sugary mess of a coffee) coffee and cookies for breakfast in which grian gets a sugar rush in the back seat but doesn't admit it.

By hour two everyone is counting down the hours to when they could arrive at the air bnb with Jimmy wide awake and talking with doc and etho on the phone loudly,martyn and ren somehow asleep,and a pearl trying to not get tired on her shift to drive.scott is probably in the seat behind pearl trying to bug her lightly by like complaining often or kicking pearls seat every now and then.Grian is still having his aftereffects of the sugar rush and scar is right next to the sugary rush monstrosity,regretting the coffee and cookies for grian specifically (note that grian had a venti of sugary coffee and like 5 cookies so uhhh)

By hour three it's an official pit stop at the gas station where everyone stretches their legs,wakes up,and gets snacks because you can never have too many snacks . Jimmy's probably on driving duty now with him and pearl at the front and Scott still stuck with martyn and ren in the middle where the three of them hosts a small séance and martyn joking that there might be a ghost waiting for all of them at the airbnb trying to scare them for waking the ghosts up.Pearl this time is the one chatting loudly on the phone with gem and impulse about their fantasy game stuff and grian and scar decide to take it slow for it being seven in thw morning and they both have a small nap.

Hour four is when Ren or Martyn drives and Scott is now finally with Jimmy but stuck with pearl in the middle row and they all start talking (more like arguing) about news agency and undercity related stuff.Grian and scar wake up from their nap and discuss school related things.In short everyone just talks about professional work stuff this hour (yuck)

Hour five is when the coffee gets to all of them with ren and martyn acting out a 2 person play in the very front of the car. (martyn drove the hour before now ren is driving?) Pearl,jimmy,and Scott sit all the way in the back of the car to secretly do make up on Jimmy who is sleeping and grian and scar snack on some food while talking about superhero things and some more work.

Hour six and the half is last hour in which scar drives with grian being the passenger princess next to him as a smug little bird for escaping the driving shifts.jimmy looking at his now makeup face with Scott and pearl laughing at him and martyn and ren finally is quiet and just on the phone.

When they all arrive they all are probably in their own rooms,tired and annoyed.

Oh my stars I love the little scenarios people have started coming up with using the TTSBC cast 😆 I think the conclusion here is not to let them go on a road trip!

[mimefish]

From the desert to the valley, his bases and alliances, Scar has always been the earth, wreathed in flowers and undeniably human.

In Third Life, Grian, the sun, swears loyalty to him, and together, they settle in the scorched desert. They build their monopoly atop a mountain, a sandcastle despite all the sand slipping through their fingers. Scar dies in a ring of cactus to his first ally, and his body is wreathed in lilacs and poppies, and the sun steps off the edge of the mountain and sets over the desert.

In Last Life, Scar is alone, but finds his purpose, finds solace, in crystals. Charms plucked straight from the ground, enchanted to aid whoever wields them. He builds atop another mountain, this one decidedly magical, but nonetheless, dies in the wrong place, at the wrong time, after stumbling across an old foe. The stars shine on.

In Double Life, Scar is drawn to a past ally. The sun finds him among new companions in a grove of bamboo and proves to him that they are, again, together, irrefutably and without room for protest. The gravity of their bond doesn't stop the sun's attempts to escape it, however, but Scar shrouds himself in a sanctuary of bamboo. He plants a safe haven. The roots of the bamboo take hold and keep his pandas safe for as long as it can, but Scar dies outside of it. The safety the bamboo promised was not enough to combat the rules of the game, but the moon wins by breaking them.

In Limited Life, he finds a family on a new mountain. The Clockers keep careful track of time spent in their dysfunctional relationships, and Scar builds the foundations of a clocktower on the entertainment rock, stone and cobble bricks to protect them. It doesn't work. He dies at the base of the mountain, betrayed by his first true ally, stabbed in the back and out of time. He never even saw it coming. A final betrayal wins the series.

And in Secret Life.

In Secret Life, Scar adorns himself with sunflowers, settling in a valley of plants and fortifying it with dark walls to protect the flowers within. He greets the moon in sunflower fields with the name of a past life, startling her. Despite the warmth of the sunflowers, however, he is isolated, and the server's assigned villain. He reacts by shifting from the flowers pointing to the sun to the lilacs and poppies that once decorated a different alliance, one with the sun himself, embroidered into a black shawl, one usually suited to a funeral, one that cloaks him in past memories. And when the moon embraces him into her orbit, he follows. Scar joins the Mounders, if temporarily, the group dedicated to their silly hills and dirt bases, and when they fall apart, the moon remains with him. Throughout it all, the moon stays, reflecting the sun's light, and when she dies, knocked down to earth, to a ravine by the valley of sunflowers, Scar lives. He keeps living, and he finally succeeds.

Scar wins, mountain after mountain, rock after rock, crystals and mounds and sand and cacti and flowers and bamboo and plants. Inhospitable biomes turn to growth. The plants enwreath him, and guide Scar to victory. From the barren desert sand to the flowers that herald the sun, Scar grows. And finally, he reaps what he sows.

[anxiouspotionofgloom]

Bonus Scarian prequel in the Demon AU

(Short 1.5k bonus chapter about my Demon AU fic, but can be read as a standalone since it's a prequel. I'm so weak to comments, someone talked to me about the early demon days and I blacked out for a couple of hours to write this. I'm trying out posting shorter fics to Tumblr too, but tell me if it's a bother... Worry not, it'll be posted on ao3 tomorrow or tonight if I have the strength. Nice day to y'all)

-

Exactly three weeks, five days and thirteen hours after Grian felt Scar's bones give in under his fists, there's a knock at his door.

It catches him in the middle of packing, stuffing whatever he could find in his backpack while pretending that his decision to leave the house was anything but the raw need to escape - the house, the thoughts, the lingering imprints of Scar left behind in every single piece of furniture they own.

The heavy fog of grief hasn't let go yet, and it takes him a few minutes to connect the sharp sound at his door with the fact that there might be someone behind it. It takes even longer for the weirdness of it to register. There had been wards surrounding the house, Scar in charge of the garden ("Sage, and maybe some rosemary too, that way we can also cook!" He'd grinned, and Grian had rolled his eyes before going to take some water and soap for when Scar would inevitably trip and fall into his stinging nettle patch.) and Grian taking care of the more physical things.

But now, there's someone at his door, and Grian has the sinking feeling that he knows who's waiting for him behind it. He stands, frozen, and tries not to let the wild beating of his heart escape out of his throat in the form of pleading words. What could he even say?

(When all had been done, there was no body left to bury. Except maybe his own, livid shadow pasted into the warm desert sands, painted red by circumstances and the quiet death of his heart. There was no body left behind, and all good demon hunters knew what that meant.)

Slowly, he rises to his feet. The few meters to the door feel agonizing, as if the skin of his feet has suddenly been replaced by exposed nerves, electric jolts of pain at every stumble through the path he'd walked a thousand times. In the span of a dozen footsteps, he rediscovers a world he'd thought fully explored, the crooked pictures they never bothered to straighten, the grandfather clock Scar had insisted they'd buy for a 'more homey' feeling. Had the door always been so tall?

Grian feels it, the moment where his stray thoughts gather into something much more tangible, strings of 'I miss him' and 'I hate him' taking the backseat in the face of the cold determination that something needs to be done.

He opens the door as bare-handed as he was in the desert.     

Scar looks more vivid somehow. That's his first thought, still caught in the momentum of his decision, and it makes something bitter rise in his throat. His colors stand out against the muted brown of their porch, as if the artist painting him spent all his time painstakingly giving him life, and made up the background as an afterthought. Like a painting, right down to the way his chest doesn't move an inch.

Later, Grian will admit in the privacy of his mind that it would have been easier if Scar had smiled his salesman grin, all fake and sweet. But he doesn't, and Grian is left feeling off-kilter when green eyes drink in the sight of him and Scar breathes for the first time in probably a long while. "Grian."

His nails dig into the wood of the door, and he carefully stands behind the threshold of their house. "Do you think-" His voice cracks in the middle of his words, in part due to the unfamiliarity of it after weeks in silence, and in part due to the pure rage pulsing in his veins. "Do you think I won't kill you because you're wearing his face?"

Scar doesn't quite smile, but bears his razor-sharp teeth all the same. "It didn't stop you the first time, did it?"

The blow hits him two ribs shy of his heart, and Grian hisses a breath through lungs full of pain. "You're not welcome here."

"After all we've done together?" He pouts, but doesn't try to step over the boundary of Grian's house. His words rang true enough, and even his kind cannot ignore this kind of warning. "Not even an apology for killing me?"

The words seep under his skin like acid, and Grian is the last person left behind in a house set ablaze. "You let me win." It escapes the numbness of his lips, and it's too vulnerable to be taken back.

"Because I loved you." It echoes in his ears before the full weight of it settles in his brain, right at home in between the last of Scar's breaths and the icy feeling of Them. I loved you. I loved you. Loved.

Scar searches for something in his eyes, and he must find it because he smiles, this time soft. "I still do. Love you I mean."

When his heart tentatively beats again, Grian wills the shuddering relief away, because Scar had been a lot of things, but he'd never been cruel before. "Stop pretending to be him."

There. The first flicker of something that is not a careful facade. If this demon shares Scar's face, he also shares his weaknesses, and Grian had learned how to pry him open long ago. He's growing annoyed.

"C'mon Grian. You're not stupid. We both know I wasn't human when we first met." The conversation derails. He feels it, full-speed car driving right over the barriers as the kinetic force of the crash transforms the air in his lungs into glass shards.   

"You were human enough." He hears himself saying, and winces at the wrongness of it.

"And now I'm not?" Uncomfortable question with an even more uncomfortable answer. The sparks in Scar's eyes are telling. Sometimes Grian's silence meant more than his words.

The conversation needs to get back on track. "What are you doing here?" Now that it's clear the demon isn't here to kill him, he forces his muscles to relax. It feels even more painful than the previous rigidity of his body. He'd suffered rigor mortis once, and it had been far more pleasant than whatever this thing in between them is.

Scar shrugs, body loose against the wood of their porch. "Just wanted to see how you were doing." Grian can't help the bitter laugh. "Satisfied?" He must paint quite the picture. If Scar had looked vivid, then Grian must be the dullest grey in existence. Grief had snuffed out all the colors in his life, until all that was left was this gaping wound in his heart and his hands.

There isn't any pity in Scar's eyes, because all of the space is already taken by the softness burning Grian's skin where it touched it. "You look tired." At least he'd refrained from saying 'in pain', or even worse lonely.

Passing a hand through his hair, a gesture that was Scar's before it was Grian's, he hisses, cornered animal. "Get out."

Scar arches an eyebrow. "You're a demon hunter, aren't you supposed to be chasing me?"

The next words out of his throat sound wet, but it's better than the pleading threatening to fall out of it. "Not tonight." He wants, with almost blind desperation, to go back in time an hour, when he'd just been on the verge of leaving. Then, it was just him and his pain, instead of this fragile thing, a living heart made of iron nails. But that's just the thing about time, isn't it? It snaps back into place, elastic band stretched too far. Scar would have always been waiting, behind that door, and Grian would have always opened it. (There is no version in which Orpheus does not look back, and there is no world in which love doesn't hurt.)

Scar relents. The two of them stand on their side of the door. "I'll stay around for the rest of the night. You should try to sleep."

"Don't." He chokes out. "I know the price for you to stay." Souls, as it always tended to be. To come here in the human realm, Scar must have been invited. And such invitations always came at a cost. The tips of his horns are sharp, and the brightness of his smile stings: Scar has been well-fed.

Tipping an imaginary hat, he winks. "Worry not, concerned citizen, consider this one free of charge." His gaze briefly flickers down to Grian's chest before his hand comes up to his lips, sending him a kiss. The warmth of it almost tingles against his cheek.

A blink, and there's nothing left of him but a wisp of smoke, already dissipating in the air.

He closes the door, trying for a slam and ending up with a sharp click, before sinking to the ground, trying to remember how to coordinate his gangly limbs into something that is not a grotesque imitation of a human being.

Back flat against the wall, staring at the wonky table they never got around to fixing, Grian tries to convince himself this conversation didn't mean anything as the adrenaline slowly fizzles out of his system, leaving him groggy and disorientated. He fails, but in the quiet of the dark it doesn't seem as important as he'd thought it'd be.

In the morning, he wakes up to cricks in his neck and the awful feeling of unbrushed teeth against his tongue. There's a blanket around his body he doesn't remember getting.

[rosalie-makes-art]

Sand. That's sort of most of what we've ever known out here. But today, it isn't the joyousness that it used to be. Once times filled with laughter and smiles, now are only filled with dread. Scar and I, both standing at each end of this cactus ring we've made for ourselves, both knowing what needs to be done.

I pulled the first punch. We both knew it was weak, but suddenly more punches came, one after another. Neither of use wanted to be doing this. Covered in blood and tears, both shouting "I'm so sorry!" At each other. Scar was holding back. He always did. He's strong, and he knows it, and I know he desperately doesn't want to be the one to take my life.

With every hit, guilt consumes me more and more. With every blow, I can feel more and more tears streaming down my already blood soaked face. Knowing I can't do this. Knowing that I never wanted to hurt scar in the first place, that I just want out of this mess already. That know, I can tell that he's letting me win more and more, and that I don't think that he's not hitting me because of the fact he's holding back, but because he's getting weaker as well.

I stop. I can't do this. I can't take scar's life. I can't do it. In the sand, both of us stop. I'm sitting in the sand, and Scar is frailed weakly within my arms, the color in his eyes fading with every breath.

"why, did you let me win?..." I say through bloodied tears streaming down my cheeks and landing on his.

"You know I don't have it in me to kill you. I never did." He said weakly.

"I don't either… I never wanted any of this to happen, Scar I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry for everything-"

I try to speak and apologize for everything I've done, but he stops me.

"Grian, please don't be sorry. I don't want to spend our last moments together apologizing." His eyes are even more grey than before. "Please, please don't go…" I whisper, knowing that my words are futile, and that there's nothing I can do to stop it.

We've gone too far already. Through his last breath, he muttered, "You were a great friend… I love you Grian."

His eyes have gone completely grey, and they have completely closed now.

Before I can process anything, I break into tears, sobbing over his dead body. He's go completely limp in my arms, and I hold him closer into a hug, something that I should have done way more when he was alive. Even when I'm the only person in the world who is alive, I can't seem to move. I can't bring myself to leave scar's side, even when there's nothing to do than cry, and try to listen to a heartbeat that no longer exists. I almost want to stay here forever, and let my body die on its own, through hunger and dehydration, as I stay lying with scar in the scorching desert sun as the world eats away at itself. Somehow I'm able to pull myself away from the corpse lying in the sun, and look opon the cliff that calls to me. It's an exit. A way to hopefully bring my misery to an end, not as if there's anything that can make myself want to live on this dead planet anyway. And I'm the only one on here. There's no one stopping me. Just the ground below, beckoning be to come closer.

I stand up, not even bothering to wipe the sand off of myself. In weak, shaky steps, I come to the edge. it's calming, almost. Like it knows what just happened, and everything that has happened. It understands me. And I jump. The wind flowing through my hair and feathers, I can barely feel it when I hit the ground. All I feel is the dead silence that follows it, and it's almost comforting in a way. With no more things to worry about, no people, no life, nothing, I let the world fizzle out of existence around me, and fall into an infinite sleep with no escape, and I can finally rest.

[ice-cap-k]

Whumptober 2023 Master List

Mostly for my own sake, I put together a list of all the fics I did for Whumptober this year. It's a varied list of MCYT stories (and one random OC one). Links and little summery blurbs are below if you're interested in checking any of them out.

My AO3 Profile can be found HERE.

And if you've already seen them and reacted to them, know I appreciate you!

Heads Will Roll: (Multi-chapter Third Life SMP Fae & Monsters AU) There are rumors of fae and monsters wreaking havoc on Dogwarts. King Ren sends his most trusted friends to get to the bottom of it.

Empty Sensations: (Hermitcraft) Doc gives False a surprise upgrade.

Just Gold: (Double Life SMP Dragon AU) Tango is a Dragon. Jimmy is a bird.

Star Fall: (Double Life SMP Retelling) Star Scott and moon Pearl were never compatible soulmates anyway.

The Engineer that Couldn't: (Hermitcraft Circus AU) The hermits are in a circus and Impulse forgets that sometimes it's okay to say 'no.'

Surviving Dead: (Hermitcraft) Cleo muses about how she became a zombie.

Gift Basket: (Dream SMP Fae AU) Schlatt needs to make a delivery.

Prison of Decay: (Hermitcraft Retelling) Zedaph's first trial run of Decked Out 2

Crash Course in Hero Work: (Hermitcraft Superhero AU) Stressmonster's friends are usually busy being heroes. She just wants to hang out with them.

In Their Structure: (Third Life Chrisrin's GemCYT AU) The Battle between Dogwarts and the deserters is over. Now what?

Ever Green: (Hermitcraft Supernatural Nature AU) Etho finds himself lost in Bdub's swamp.

xB Noir in Hybrid Theory: (Hermitcraft Noir AU) Local hybrids are going missing and xB is on the case.

Tough Love, or Love's Tough?: (Hermitcraft Slice of Life) Docm77 and Rendog are best friends. There's just one difference between the two of them that's hard to get past.

Monster Charm: (Hermitcraft Magic/Monsters AU) Mumbo runs into some trouble on the road to the next town.

Silent Squeak: (Rats SMP retelling) Scott's been acting odd since the janitor caught him. Owen's worried.

Into the Pirate-verse: (Pirates SMP retelling) Martyn starts his first day on the Pirates SMP with a splash.

Computer Virus: (Hermitcraft SMP) The server is glitching out, and it's starting to bother Cubfan and the other hermits.

Get Some Rest: (Phasmophobia/Hermitcraft) Skizz just wants to get some sleep, but Grian and Scar are having none of that.

Not So Empty Space: (Hermitcraft Season 8 fallout) Tango's on his own. In space.

The Girl Who Talked to Ghosts: (OC story) Unnamed OC #1 has lost a loved one and is mourning their loss, but Unnamed OC #2 keeps distracting them.

Hollowed Duty: (Dream SMP Fae AU) Puffy is the captain of the King's Guard. It's been tough getting to this point. Some new recruit reminds her just how far she's come.

Pan-Pan: (Hermitcraft Nuclear Fallout AU) Tango's trapped alone under a nuclear reactor.

Glassy Eyes: (Hermitcraft/Double Life SMP Magnus Archives AU) Ren and BigB tackle an escape room.

Assassin Games: (Hermitcraft Hitmen AU) Iskall and Etho are trained killers. Fight fight fight.

Distant Visions: (Hermitcraft Powers AU) Joe can see the future sometimes, and it comes in handy.

Kyanite: (Empires SMP Canon Divergence) What if Xornoth knew they were going to trap him in a crystal?

By the Light of Santa Perla: (Afterlife SMP Canon Divergence) What if Sausage didn't make it to the pearly gates? What if I put him in a box for a long time and see what happens?

Wings: (Origins SMP/Phil's Hardcore World Canon Divergence) Philza muses about wings, and past choices related to them.

[thecoddaughter]

Secret Life as Every The Crane Wives Song

(EXTREMELY LONG POST WARNING)

 

Etho: 

Nothing at All  “Do you ever feel nothing at all? I do, I do, I do. I would not wish that on you”

Counting Sheep “Feign contentment for a while, that's all you know how to do.”

Grian:

Sleeping Giant “I feel the mountains, I feel the mountains shifting under me. The sleeping giants are finally waking.”  (This man knows things about the sudden arrival of a ominous deity like entity)

Steady, Steady “I can take for better but for worse can't condone. Most of all for good just makes me ache to be alone.” (Not teaming up with people for so long because of fear of hurting them)

Ancient History “My dreams keep digging up the bones of memories. Discarded remnants of former times.” (Again, watchers…)

Pearl:

I Talk In My Sleep “I talk in my sleep when my demons won't let me be. They twist the things I say when you are far away.”

How to Rest  “Though you've convinced yourself, you're safe and sound within. The thing you fear the most never need get in.”

New Colors  “Old towns here are mean. Spit fire and gasoline. But all I want is solitude. I have half a mind to climb up in the sky and hide myself inside the moon”

The Crooked, The Cradle “I'm nobody's daughter. I'm nobody's daughter. My enemies crow. "We're alone with the kill"”  “I won't pretend my season won't end,  but I pray, when it's done, when it's through I'll have something left for you.”

Scar: 

The Garden  “The crows in the garden are laughing at my expense, drowning out all the lies that I might have told instead” (his scamming and scheming butt can't escape me)

New Discovery  “Sometimes I feel like I’m lost in the desert… I see my footprints in the sand so I know where I’ve been”  (desert... like the desert duo... i'm so clever!)

Can’t Have It All  “I won't bargain, I won't break. My mind's made up, though my head still aches and all my love you tried to take, but you can't have it all.”

Cleo:

Ribs “Brick and mortar between my bones. Built a kingdom fierce and fortified. My name fading from the yellow page. Stones are laid upon the mountainside.”

Tongues & Teeth “I will poison all your happy thoughts. I will love you like the ashes in my cigarette box and if you're fine with that you can be mine.”

Impulse:

Little Soldiers “I fought with tooth and nail before the flag had flown but you were already gone”

Strangler Fig “You built your kingdom around me. Now I'm trapped within your walls and all I want is to be free.” (That man died and joined the apocalypse willingly to be at Gem's side)

Scott:

Pretty Little Things “Cracked lips and hands, calloused hands. I still feel his touch against my skin. Past loves linger like phantom limbs.”  “Don't buy me flowers, it pains me to watch. Pretty little things wilt away.” (this man hold's onto past alliances in her heart, only second to Skizz)

Shallow River “Red sky morning, lovers' warning. Oh I know that the promise you wear, well it ain't for me.” (red sky and love refer to Jimmy’s death. The “You” is Gem though)

Bdubs:

Never Love an Anchor “It's a secret I keep tucked inside my chest with this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful” (him not so subtly jumping between mounders and roomies, maybe? idk. its also just kinda his vibe.)

Naked, the Night Falls “Turn your ghosts into mine. All the years, all the years I'm alive.” (him finding Etho and Cleo again)

BigB:

Hard Sell “Hoping I can find a better me. A fresh new start buried under me.”

Metaphors “I've gotten good at leaning on metaphors. I've gotten good at living on someone else's page. I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments. You can't trust a single thing I say.” (his cryptid butt is not escaping metaphors this go around)

Martyn:

Turn out the Lights “Sometimes all you can do is say goodnight and tuck your demons into bed cause they're not worth fighting.”

Rockslide “This wild weather's got the mountain shakin' weak. Oh I know you want to plant your feet but we best get a move on or the devil we will meet.” “That monster's comin' and it don't care for you or me. Don't look back now, honey” (This has been in my head since Martyn moved in with Jim at the top of the Mesa.)

Show Your Fangs “A ballad of a lonesome peak. I curse the ground, shed my old sins. For weight will only make me weak” “Bravely I will wield my weapon. I made from fangs of those that died.” (Big Dogs… RIP)

Skizz:

Know How “I keep my focus on what is safe. You drew a line. Made up your mind and now I'm struggling to realize.” (This song is Imp and Skizz’s relationship post Imp’s attack)

Easier “The only peace I have ever known is the peace I made with you. I won't move, but I can't stay here.” (Skizz and Tango’s relationship throughout the season)

October “Take my word but keep the upper hand. I know you, you're the daughter of a lonely man.” (My interpretation of SL!Skizz is this super caring guy who his haunted by this vague memory of bloodlust that comes out in empty threats to people he doesn’t really want to hurt.)

Gem (all of these are about session seven specifically!):

Allies or Enemies  “They spread like some awful damn disease” “Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me.”

The Glacier House “You cursed the Earth you settled under… Under… Understand I had to go.” “Bundle up darling, you're on your own now. Seasons change as they do. Maybe I'll see you when your shivering is through.”

I Ain’t Done “I am a pretty young thing. I am consumed by selfish wanting. Carelessly broke you down but I’m not done.” (this girl came in and told a winner and a runner up that they need to get their act together and that she was gonna be the one to get them to the end. I love her!)

Joel “Loves his wife” Smallishbeans:

Down the River “'Cause ain't it easier to just move on? One door closing means another one. Opens unto some unsuspecting fool. “Sure, you can forget about all the things you've done but what about the rest of us? High-tail it when it gets to be too much.” “Too many people with your name on top of their lists.” “You were never the one to suffer.” (All of Joel’s anger about Jim celebrating Lizzie’s death and the fact that Jim then also immediately died, leaving him alone.)

Unraveling “But now my love is gone and I am left unraveling.” “And I am left here withering” “And I can't help the fracturing”

The Diving Bell  “I descend so well, in an open diving bell, the beauty of the deep. Far into abyss in your silent lips call me will I sleep” 

Caleb Trask “"When a flower blossoms red. That's the day, that's the day, that's the day. I'll love you. That's the day, that's the day. I'll love you." (I’ve stated before that this is his song, not specifically bc of SL. I think of azalea’s and I think of Joel.)

Tango:

Curses “There's a fire in my brain, and I'm burning up” “Every word I say is kindling but the smoke clears when you're around. Won't you stay with me, my darling, when my walls start burning down?” (Our fire man and his forever teammate…)

Safe Ship, Harbored “Where does your faith form in me? Don't break the bottle. Don't waste your blessings on me.” “A safe ship, harbored losing all of my good years to the shallow water. I ain't proud.” (The Heart Foundation [in my opinion] seemed like a great way to make alliances and be well liked, however, it also kinda put them at a disadvantage never getting any hearts of their own.)

Mumbo:

The Moon Will Sing “On some level, I think I always understood that these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever.” “With this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful. There is love that doesn't have a place to rest. But it would have buried you if it had settled on your shoulders” (Something, something. The love Mumbo has for Grian.)

Back to the Ground “Little buds make their graves as the warmth inside us fades but I still don't know shit about letting go.” “Our hearts lay still and cold, under frozen soil. I can't stay here anymore so remember when I go.” (Something, something. The miner destined for accidents.)

Jimmy: 

Not the Ghost “If only I could break the chain of disappointments, weighing me down. Shake off the ghosts that whisper warnings.”

Keep You Safe “When I watched my friends ride to the tops of the trees. With the risk of fall, I never climbed at all.” “Time is not your friend. Time is not your remedy. No amount of waiting will make you, make you brave.”

Canary in the Coal Mine  “You and I are friends of empty graves”  (he does not escape this song!) 

Lizzie (all of these songs with Lizzie in mind makes me cry):

Can’t Go Back “The time has come for moving on. You can't be always trying to dig up. What you've already buried.” “It's not fair (When have you ever known the world to be a fair place?) It's not fair (All things end and all things change) It's not fair (You'll look back and laugh someday) It's not fair (Or at least you'll learn to be okay)”

Of Everlong  “And if my lover will not hear it. Take my voice and take my spirit, leave me weakened and dig my hole. Only my lover, not I, can keep my soul” (Only Joel mourns her and it’s a sad sad day)

Icarus “Til your far away and breathing cleaner air, oh my brother…” (her brother... the man cursed to die... named after a bird who dies of poisoned air... who'd a thunk it...)

Unplaced songs: The hand that feeds, hole in the silver lining, Once & For All

[birrdies]

at the kitchen table (third life fic, 891 words)

Grian sits at grief’s kitchen table. It used to be his— theirs— but something far greater occupies it now. He can’t call it his, even though the birch is well worn with use. Beaten from dumping battered weapons and armor at the end of the day (before they started sleeping with it, before they forwent sleeping all together), far more than any shared meal. 

The table’s empty. The last of their slim pickings is buried outside in the sand with Scar’s body. Grian sits inside, protected from the howling wind and pretending like he can drown out the spectators. One more death, they insist. This isn’t over yet. 

Give me a second, he barks back. 

He’s never been one for outright cowardice. He knows there’s no avoiding this fate. He practically wrote it himself. But Scar taught him a thing or two on how to delay the inevitable. How to buy yourself time, how to become slippery and escape all things that are meant for you. Bitterly, Grian can’t help but wonder why he hadn’t done it for himself in the end. 

This is all Grian needs— a moment, a brief reprieve, a second to be untouchable— it’s all he asks for. Himself and the kitchen table, the empty chair across from him. Normalcy, or as close to it as he can reach.

Elbows propped on the sandy wood, Grian hides his face in his hands and chuckles. How ridiculous it is: a hollow kitchen standing around him, dusty and vacant and haunted. Grian never cooked anything in here. They never shared a meal at this table. It was always scraps over a fire, stale bread stuffed in their pockets, endless days in the blazing desert heat. Too scared to sit and eat properly. Too restless. 

Why even build a kitchen at all? Grian’s laughter possesses him now, broken and shrill and hollow without Scar here to cause it. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes until his vision splotches and his head spins. How stupid could he have been? To build a kitchen, to hope to use it? 

He had wanted nothing more than to be free of the madman bound to him by nothing more than Grian’s misplaced guilt and a few meager promises. Weak strings, really. He could’ve left anytime he wanted. And Scar would have let him.

But he built a kitchen for them anyway. Before the loyalty set in like a fever. Before this was it: him and Scar and the vacant dunes.

Before Scar had made the choice for him. 

There was room for love here, Grian thinks as his laughter turns to tears— a more silent affair.

The spectators nag in the back of his mind, more a sickening chill crawling the length of his spine than any kind of coherent voice. Goosebumps pepper his skin, but he refuses to move. He sits like a sentinel over this empty kitchen, the bleeding heart of their home, with nothing but his own anger as a weapon. 

Anger can only do so much. Grian wipes his tears only to realize there’s still blood on his fingers, now smeared on his cheeks. Trembling fingers curl into fists. Grian studies the way they move, counting his shaking breaths and knowing they’ll be his last. 

He’s hurt. It won’t take much else to finish the job. A cut on the crest of his cheek bleeds sluggishly, stings in the gritty air, but there’s no point tending to it. The bruises around his middle ache terribly. 

Scar could’ve killed him. If he pushed a little further. Hit a little harder. If he wanted it enough. 

But, no. Scar went down with a smile. He got what he wanted and Grian got this. Grian’s never hated him more. 

Slowly Grian rises from his seat at the kitchen table. He runs his fingers over the sanded wood one last time before stepping back out beneath the desert sun. The hair on the back of his neck stands up. A chill swoops through him, nearly takes him off his feet. There are eyes on him, somewhere, but he’s never felt more alone. 

He steps over Scar and Pizza’s shared grave and treks through the cactus ring to get to the edge of the hill. The part where the drop is steep and the base is rocky. It’ll be quick. It’ll be painless— at least, infinitely more painless than everything else he’s felt at the mercy of the game, at the mercy of the desert, at the mercy of Scar. 

He’s the last man standing, but what exactly is it that he’s won? It’s hard to feel like a victor when all he feels is cruel and beaten. When his head is heavy with the crown of eager eyes and his legs shake with the burden of keeping the rest of him upright. When there’s nothing to stand over proudly except for unmarked graves and a lonely desert hill. 

It doesn’t feel like much of a victory at all. There was room for love here. There was room for a lot of things. But none of it matters in the end. Because Grian doesn’t want to be left to haunt a kitchen Scar never even stepped foot into.  It doesn’t matter, because Grian won. He takes a step over the edge.

[mishaloveclub]

here’s the very first scene in my rewrite of desert duo’s time in third life because i do not have a completionist bone in my body and i may never end up posting or even finishing the whole thing

(first 700 words of guilty, not remorseful)

The explosion leaves behind remnants of fibre and vines, a sizable crater, and the sickly smell of singed skin.

A dreadful silence weighs heavy upon those who had witnessed it, had witnessed lively green eyes grow dull as Scar’s body slumped amidst the upturned dirt and smoke. They all stare in shock at the aftermath, exchanging uncertain glances as Grian remains frozen, blinking rapidly, eyes unfocused.

A shocked laugh, almost winded, forces its way up from Grian’s throat.

He has taken a life, lured a man to his death, and all he can do is laugh.

The air only remains still for a moment longer before everyone else finds themselves laughing too, unable to help themselves.

It’s an entirely absurd situation. One moment, Grian had a creeper hot on his tail, pressing a finger to his lips as he met Etho’s eye with a cheeky grin, and the next, Scar’s body was laid burnt and lifeless in a ditch.

Grian watches Scar’s fallen body flicker as it regenerates, vanishing from the crater and leaving nothing but a flattened patch of earth in its wake. It’s only then that the guilt rushes in, pushing aside any amusement as Grian realises the gravity of what exactly he has done.

He has stolen the life of a man who has offered him nothing but friendship and kindness. Torn it from his giving hands with a maniacal grin and the audacity to claim it as ‘a joke’.

The chatter dulls down as Scar reappears at the village outskirts and it seems that no one knows quite what to expect from him: anger, possibly. Or a sense of betrayal or revenge. Grian would even understand tears, grieving the life that had been so cruelly taken from him.

And yet Scar does nothing but smile at Grian with wary eyes, eyes that now shine a striking golden colour.

“Scar, I’m so sorry.” The apology bubbles up from Grian’s chest, voice softened with laughter as he takes a careful step towards Scar.

He makes no move to step away, a shocked laugh of his own escaping his lips, breathless yet forgiving, “I know you didn’t mean to.”

Grian’s smile drops at that, mouth falling agape as Scar’s attention is almost immediately drawn away from him.

Because Scar doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know what Grian’s intentions had been - good or bad - and yet he believes wholeheartedly in his innocence. It’s a level of trust that Grian truly does not think he deserves.

Conversation continues amidst the rest of the onlookers, Scar brushing off any implication of hard feelings, lighthearted jokes being made as the panic is pushed aside. Grian, however, has grown quiet, watching Scar laugh and jest as he always does, as though the guilt that has settled in Grian’s stomach isn’t threatening to consume him from the inside out.

Scar catches his eye after an excruciating minute, his lips tugging into a frown as he approaches, “Grian, it’s okay-”

“Let me talk to you for a moment,” Grian interrupts, his voice soft as he takes a gentle hold of Scar’s forearm.

He begins to tug Scar away from the crowd, to which he is happy to comply, following after Grian as they reach a more secluded area where their conversation will be out of the prying eyes and ears of the others.

“Scar, I’m so, so sorry.” Grian whispers, carefully scanning Scar’s face, his fingers still wrapped loosely around his arm.

“I already told you: it’s fine.” Scar chuckles, a well-meaning attempt to lighten the mood.

Grian takes in a long, calculated breath and in a spur-of-the-moment decision, entirely unplanned, he drops to one knee and bows his head in front of Scar, his next words altering the course of his time in this world forever.

“I took your first life, so I therefore owe you mine.”

Scar blinks at him, bewildered, “What?”

Grian lifts his gaze to look up at Scar, unsure of how else to prove his sincerity.

“I feel awful for what I’ve done, accidental or not, I killed you, Scar… So I vow my first life to you. I am in your service and at your side, “ There’s a momentary pause, “if you’ll have me.”

A slow, understanding smile paints itself on Scar’s lips, “So you’ll dig the sand… With me?”

“I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

And so it begins.

[ladyevol]

I am thinking of life series desert duo again.

In third life, we have Grian and Scar teaming up. Here, we establish their relationship for the majority of the series, with Grian being annoyed with Scar's antics and Scar being extremely chaotic towards anyone except for Grian. Grian takes Scar's last life in what might be the single most heartbreaking moment in a minecraft series ever.

Then we have Last Life. Grian tricks Scar into giving him a life, not once but twice. Maybe even three times, depending on what you think regarding the first time he goes red. In this series, Scar is incredibly lonely, the entire series is about him trying to form connections and get allies, but by the end of it, even after he literally gives people his souls, he is still alone. Grian, despite being in a big group, is also alone after all, he becomes red pretty early. He can never truly trust his allies, even going so far as to kill Mumbo and Jimmy for the last time himself.

Then we have Third Life. Desert Duo is forced back together against all odds. Scar, despite his shenanigans, does his best to help Grian as he can, while Grian proceeds to push him away, even going so far as to get a secret soulmate. Scar lashes out and hurts himself on purpose just to hurt Grian. Neither of them are happy, and both die alone in the dark, with Scar at least having his horse with him.

Limited life is the first series where Scar doesn't go after Grian at first. He gets himself a base with Bdubs and Cleo and, unlike his previous relationships (which were either with Grian or on his own,) he seems to be happy despite all the killing, all the chaos, he found a group of people who finally appreciate him. It seems like he will finally be able to escape the desert. Then, Grian comes. Grian, who loses all of his allies, once again, in part due to his actions. He is the one to ruin their happiness, he is the one to kill all of the Clockers, one by one, even calling Scar's death he ultimate betrayal as the man literally stabs him through the back. Grian, despite being the one who originally pushed Scar away, the one who refused to partner up in Last Life and even Double Life, is the one who drags Scar all the way back from happiness.

Grian, despite trying with all his strength, never managed to leave that desert, and he will never let Scar leave either.

[julia-writes-things]

behold, desert duo fanfiction I wrote in January! Third Life but make it angsty

This was it. They were the last two players left. The entire world seemed to stink of blood and ash from their previous murders.

Grian could feel his heart beat in his throat. He’d never admit it but he’d enjoyed his time with Scar. Now, they’d be forced to fight. They would force him to fight. Petty entertainment, satisfying the overlords. But maybe, just maybe they’d let them both win. 

“Scar?” His voice came out quiet, meek. Nothing like the insane banter he’d held up with others. “I think we can agree that this series is a double win.” 

He held his hand out for Scar to take, offering a truce. 

“I’m sorry Grian, I don’t think it works like that.” Scars looked down to hide his face, but his voice betrayed him. It wavered. Thinned from the heat of the previous battles. 

“Let’s battle this out like champs then, huh?” Grian didn’t want to accept it. He’d stall until the very end. “A fist fight, fair and square.”

The pair silently set up a ring of cactus that they’d once used to keep everyone out. The cactus was now used to keep them from escaping themselves, how ironic. They closed the ring with fire. 

Scar exhaled. This would be fine. Just another murder under his belt. It’s not like Grian cared about him. Grian just felt bad for taking away his first life. He’d made quite a point of letting him know he’d leave the moment he turned to yellow. He had stayed after getting to yellow, but there wasn’t much of an option to leave when he’d turned everyone against them.

Scar would happily admit that the times they’d shared were special to him. But he knew he’d be met with indifference, so he kept quiet. It wouldn’t hurt if he tried to not care as well. 

Grian studied Scars face of cleverly disguised emotion, trying to sus out what he was thinking. Scar was quite good at dying, but man did he have a poker face.

But this wasn’t about emotion. There needed to be one winner. Grian needed to put his feelings aside, or he wouldn’t be able to do it. Would he even be able to kill him? He didn’t have his trusty TNT on hand. 

Scar’s punch came out of nowhere. Fast and angry. He’d let his emotions take hold of him, using them to his advantage. Scar hurt so much. Someone he held in such high regard not even bothering to acknowledge him. Wanting to leave him. Grian couldn’t leave now. 

“Scar-“ Grian was surprised at the outburst. It was in the rules but he never expected it. 

“No.” Scars voice was sharp as glass, hot with anger. “You don’t get to talk. You’ve been talking about running from the very start, but you’re going to stand here and fight me.” 

“Scar I- I can’t fight you. I won’t. We can both win this.” Grian smiled at scar’s murderous face. 

“You know damn well that they won’t allow it.” 

Scars eyes stung with oncoming tears, blind to the emotion of it. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? Why don’t you just return home, huh? They’re waiting for you.”

Grian knew he couldn’t let shock be the reason he lost. Scar was speaking the truth. They both couldn’t win. What would they say if he lost to common folk? 

Grian threw the next punch, knocking Scar down onto the sand. He wiped away his own tears. His blood soaked sweater painting his face red. 

“Not saying anything huh? Nothing left to say to your old pal?” Scars voice dripped with venomous sarcasm. 

Grian walked up to Scar and put his foot on his chest, preventing him from moving. His eyes stung with sand and tears. “You have no idea.” He chuckled. 

Scar stared up at Grain. The sun, sand and black spots made it hard but he managed. 

“I’ve protected you.” Grian practically spat with anger.

Punch.

“I’ve stood by your side.”

Punch.

“I’ve set up all your traps for your petty revenge.”

Punch.

“I went slowly insane by your side.”

Grian grabbed scar and forced him up on his feet, forcing his beaten body into a cactus. He grabbed Scars face and made him look into his eyes. 

“And I loved every minute of it. Every minute with you, the chaos, Pizza. All of it.” Grian’s eyes stung from the heat and tears. 

Scar’s eyes widened at the confrontation. He never expected he and Grian shared the same feelings. He was in shock. He couldn’t defend himself. 

Grian threw Scar to the ground once more. The hot sand made its way into Scars wounds. Scar had to bite the inside of his cheek as to not scream out in agony.

“You don’t get to insult me, my sacrifices, and expect me to sit idly and let you kill me.” 

Scar scrambled back. They were really playing with fire now. 

“You cared..?” Scar asked 

“Oh believe me.” Grian laughed “I didn’t keep your sorry self alive for nothing. I enjoyed our time together. We were unstoppable, on top of it all.”

Scar’s world came crashing down on him. Grian did care. He stayed for him, not just because everyone hated them, but for him. 

“May… Maybe they’ll let us win?” Scar was scrambling for opportunities now. 

“They won’t let that happen, Scar.” Grian sighed, backing scar up into another cactus. “They’re ruthless, unforgiving creatures.” 

Scars eyes filled with tears as he stared Grian in the eyes. 

“So.. this is the end.” His voice broke 

“This is the end, pal.” Grians eyes watered at the sight of Scar. “See you in the next life.”

His final punch was delivered swiftly. A cleverly planed strike. Scar crumpled at his feet, a single tear made its way down his face.

Grian burst into tears. His best friend, his partner in crime- dead at his hands. 

“Is this what makes you happy?!” He yelled as loud as he could, cradling his dead companion, “This shameless death and suffering?! You’re sick. SICK!” 

The sky filled with hundreds of purple eyes, illuminating Grian’s face. 

“I’m ashamed to call myself one of you.” He spat. 

He gently let go of Scar, laying him to rest in the sand. He put out the fire and stood at the edge of the sandy cliff.

“I’ll see you in the next life.” His voice was hoarse, tired, and scared. 

He let himself fall to his demise.