#grians wings are supposed to be clipped here

[qhideduo]

There's a way we can still be friends!

You could join me.

[duckimate]

GRUMBO WEEK DAY 3 - " Nightmare " @grumboweek

"read more" at your own discretion. messy+wordy explanation of the concept coming:) .

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pardon me for being late but i really couldn't stand leaving this looking unfinished so. had to spend a bittt more time on it (might even post for grumbo week even after the event's over if thats okay!!)

we all got over the progression from their friendship to their betrayal of eachother in Last Life too soon. i need people to mourn with me

"Nightmare" made my mind immediately jump to the series that waffle duo really got their share of angst from, Last Life. How an unbreakable bond of friendship strengthened by literally passing eachother something as valuable as a life so quickly crumbled into them both betraying eachother in the end, a Nightmare scenario that the two of them would've never even considered for sure. even grian, who upon turning red was still clinging onto the hope that their bond was so strong that mumbo would join him as a redname. (concept) even red mumbo, who in his last ditch desperation tried reigniting post-red yellow life grian's humanity by giving him the spyglass, the southlander's physical embodiment of their friendship, only for grian to crush it mercilessly ,,,,,,,,,

anyway for this piece i tried real hard to cram in as much symbolism and imagery and intent behind my lines and colors as possible, so heres some of it! (theres more but thats on you to figure out!)

Composition + just some of the details : the main concept that i really wanted to drive home is the use of the SPYGLASS as symbolism for the progression of their bond throughout Last life, up until the end. yellow-side grian holds up a spyglass, looking towards the right

day4 past and future concepts ahead the spyglass extends through the past to the present, like a solid line of sight into the future before its unfortunately crushed by red-side grian (him shutting down any friendship or reconciliation from mumbo) mumbo, back against the future, faced twoards the past, reaching his spyglass out looking for who his friend was, only to see a cracked figure of him staring back grian, faced towards the future in both drawings, but also looking back at mumbo, with different emotions but both with the same desire to move forward, one with adoration and another with the desire to move on from mumbo's dead body and focus on self-preservation. he knew he had to move on, and he was right.

SOUTHLANDERS BADGE: mostly for visual interest! but also unlike the spyglass, is an unremovable physical reminder for post-red grian (literally lodged deep into his shoulder)

CLIPPED WINGS: i felt like i had to mention that they're supposed to look clipped in the second drawing:) "HE NEEDS TO LEARN" was a real quote that was directed at both jimmy and mumbo, but we gotta adapt pfft ,,, this post is long. LOng long. i should stop. special SPECIAL thanks to my dearest @justrelaxhere for their hours worth of dissection of my drawing! god i could always count on them to squeeze every drop of symbolism out of my work. without them i wouldn'tve been able to fully articulate my ideas! okay thanks for reading people:D

[atherix]

Hello! I had a question about Grians avian tendencies! I've noticed throughout the work he seems to be a pretty grounded birdy, and I was curious if there was a reason? I know he flies a few times here or there but overall it seems like he doesn't have a drive or need to fly. I suppose I'm curious if there is a lore reason he's seemed to drop what one would call "normal" avian tendencies. Thank you and I absolutely love your work! Favorite fic by far <3<3

~🐷🪅

Hi! I'm answering from a line in Disney world rn so apologies for the brevity/delay <3

So Avians in the Midnight Alley were very grounded as a species, with limited chances to actually fly. They lived in a cavern with high ceilings, yes, but the powers that be (ie their, uh, leaders) didnt actually want them anywhere near the ceiling, so they wouldn't see the.... secrets being held there/ruin the illusion of a night sky. As such Grian is very used to walking, only flying to speed up the process- flying to actually get somewhere just doesn't.... occur to him, since most of his life has been on the ground. Before leaving the Alley, the longest time he'd flown at one time was when he and Pearl would sneak out and fly through the caves around the Alley when everyone else was asleep. There's also ofc the thing where for a good chunk of Midnight, spanning months in-story, his wings were clipped and he was completely grounded....

Other than his stunted flying instinct, Grian will have plenty of birdie instincts coming up later, he just hasn't had a reason to tune in yet :3

Thank you so much!!! I'm so glad you're enjoying it <3 I'm looking forward to getting home and working on the next chapters!

[voidindite]

Trapped

Whumptober 2022 Day 1: A Little Out of the Ordinary Adverse Affects | Unconventional Restraints | “This wasn’t supposed to happen”

Life Theft AU Characters: Jimmy Solidarity, Renthedog, ZombieCleo, impulseSV, Grian, Last Life Ensemble Warnings: Temporary Character Death

...I have NO idea how this ended up as Jimmy’s PoV but. It works??? I’d planned Cleo’s, Ren’s, or even Grian’s, but needless to say… my writing likes to take a mind of its own lol this is my Life Game AU, so it's the fourth one in the series

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

They were already a few weeks into the game by that point. Jimmy had sheepishly joined the Cliffside Keep after being put on yellow, though fortunately he didn’t hold a grudge on Cleo for taking his first life. She’d been boogey in week one, and they hadn’t yet been allies at the time, after all, and he was the first person she’d seen an opening to kill. That was the point of the game, after all.

Still, knowing one of his allies had one of his lives left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Jimmy sighed and let his wings ruffle before pulling them against his back. He was never a big fan of having them clipped, but he’d rather that than having his server-specific coding adjusted to make them tiny or just straight-up nonexistent. He wasn’t sure how Impulse did it—didn’t it feel strange having his wings gone during the game?

He hummed to himself, flicking a wing to dismiss the thought, and turned his attention back to the string he was setting into a bow.

The Keep was so much more organized and protective of one another than his first alliance that had shattered the moment one of them was cursed. Cleo had taken charge of the group, and Jimmy had to admit it: She was a good leader! He could hear her somewhere on the level above him, building the walls of their deepslate fortress ever-higher. Then there was Ren constantly down in the mines, chopping trees, or gathering food, and Impulse and Tango had been setting defensive traps throughout their slowly-growing castle.

Impulse was somewhere under Jimmy’s feet, he could hear the wither shuffling about underground occasionally, but Tango had disappeared a few hours ago. The rest of the Keep had suspected he was one of the cursed for the week and wanted to get away from his allies to make a kill.

It mattered not, so long as he returned to the Keep in one piece—preferably cured.

Jimmy just smiled as he set the string, then put the bow aside to start on another.

Tango had vouched for him to the rest of Team Keep, and now here he was, crafting their weapons while the rest of them were busy with other things.

His eyes drifted up to the sound of the quiet plodding of paws, Ren trudging up the steps from the mine. He grinned a grin of sharp canines, tail wagging lazily behind him and ears standing straight up on his head. Even with his sunglasses on, the arch of his brows revealed that they hid bright eyes that were probably creased at the corners. Dust clung to his hair and clothes, and his pickax looked like it was about to crumble to bits.

“Got lots of diamonds and redstone, dudes!”

Jimmy couldn’t help but match the wolf hybrid’s grin and, though he couldn’t see her, he imagined Cleo’s was about the same as she leaned over the temporary balcony that let her look into the Keep’s courtyard.

The mention of redstone practically seemed to summon Impulse, whose head popped up from the hole he’d dug himself into off by one of the walls. It took a second glance for Jimmy to realize the red smeared across his cheek and hands was not, in fact, blood, but rather redstone dust.

He didn’t even have to say anything for Ren to toss some of the redstone his way, and the wither immediately disappeared back into his hole.

To Jimmy’s surprise, some of the diamonds found their way being shoved into his hands, and he couldn’t help but blink owlishly down at Ren.

“You’re makin’ our weapons, right? We can finally have enough diamond swords for all of us!” His tail was wagging faster, now.

The canary hybrid was about to sit back down at his crafting setup, but was forced to dump the diamonds into a chest when their communicators all went off.

[Smallishbeans was fireballed by Tango]

[LDShadowLady was fireballed by Tango]

Jimmy and Ren shared a look. The wolf’s ears lowered slightly and his tail had stopped wagging, while Jimmy had to consciously force his wings not to fluff up.

It was Cleo who actually spoke after jumping down from the balcony with an ankle-jarring thud.

“His fireballs are supposed to be disabled, aren’t they?”

Ren nodded, but it was Jimmy to open his chat to start typing.

<SolidarityGaming: ???>

<Smallishbeans: ow?? wtv>

<SolidarityGaming: what was that about?>

<Tango: I panicked>

<Tango: Those shouldn’t have worked right???>

<Grian: Looking into it. Might have missed deactivating them.>

<Grian: Want to count it?>

<Smallishbeans: ya sure>

<LDShadowLady: He had the upper hand anyway. We still would’ve died so no difference.>

<Grian: k>

The Keep trio still gathered cast a glance at each other, then shrugged. The games were never perfect, and Grian wasn’t exactly a player who was used to constant Admin duties, Jimmy thought. Besides, the games were meant to be short, a way to get them all out of their usual servers and maybe interacting with people they didn’t get to much. There was no way the parrot hybrid would think to look into every little thing that could go wrong.

“I mean, kinda makes sense there was something that got overlooked. Grian’s not perfect.”

The other two hummed in agreement.

And the day went on as normal. Tango eventually returned with his head ducked sheepishly, and dived into one of the countless holes littering the Keep’s main floor where he and Impulse were building traps. Ren disappeared back into the mines after repairing his pick and dropping off his spoils, and it was Cleo who stuck around to peer over Jimmy’s shoulder.

His wings shifted lower to give her a better view as he finished a crossbow and (noticeably careful not to let it go off to shoot himself with it) offered it to her. She weighed it in one hand, glanced down the shaft, and offered him an approving nod that had him grinning again.

She soon ambled off to keep building up their walls, and Jimmy pulled some of the diamonds from the chest. He didn’t have the levels for enchantments, but he could at least make the swords for now.

It was monotonous work, but it was nice to be trusted with it, and also not have to worry about watching his back.

It was repetition like that over the next few days, everything mostly quiet besides a single message about a day later about Scott falling from a high place. It had either been a boogey kill, or accidental and Tango had been the only one cursed for the week.

By the end, the Keep was built up nicely, with some good defensives in place and its members all armed with both decent swords and bows. A nice start for Team Keep, if he did say!

<Grian: Ok, that’s session end. Let’s head home>

Jimmy blinked down at the message. The week had gone by faster than he’d expected.

He stood stiffly, grimacing as his back cracked, and glanced around as the other members of the Keep emerged to find good spots to spawn back in on. Jimmy felt safe enough with his spot, so brought his wrist up to his chest, and aimed to go to the Server Hub before heading off back to Empires.

…Only nothing happened.

His head tilted, and he pressed the Log Out again. It turned red briefly, then nothing.

<SolidarityGaming: hey, I can’t log out>

<GoodTimeWithScar: uh oh>

<GoodTimeWithScar: same>

<Smallishbeans: none of us can either>

Jimmy caught Cleo glancing between each of her own alliance members with a furrow to her brow. Her hand was hovering over her communicator, but like him, it appeared that she’d given up clicking the Log Out command.

<ZombieCleo: None of the Keep can log.>

<Grian: …>

<Grian: I can’t figure out the issue>

<Grian: what’s going on??? Meet at spawn>

<Grian: now>

Each of the alliances were obviously already avoiding getting too close to each other as they gathered around spawn. The Druids were sticking close to the outskirts, ready to bolt for their forest the moment they had a chance; Joel’s little trio was glaring daggers Team Keep’s way, which Cleo and Tango returned in full force until they ducked their heads. Mumbo and Skizz smelled heavily of smoke, faces smeared with soot, and sweat from their run from their base somewhere in the Nether made their hair stick to their foreheads; they kept glancing at each other and the other alliances, with Mumbo visibly about as antsy to get out of there as the Druids.

Scar and Etho seemed to be about the only chill ones of the group, hovering almost in the middle of the sloppy circle and chattering away with each other (well, more so Scar was chattering, while Etho just hummed and nodded along).

Etho actually had a fishing pole right in his hand that Scott looked like he wanted to snap in half. Was that how Scott had died earlier in the week?

Jimmy shook his head and instead turned his attention to Grian, who had Pearl hovering close at his side. The parrot-hybrid’s wings were puffed up in a way that made Jimmy’s shudder behind him as he attempted not to copy the action, his brows were arched in distress, and his frantic tapping on his communicator was so out of character that Jimmy felt a lump in his throat.

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Grian’s head finally snapped up to scan the crowd gathered around him.

“My Admin panel’s locked down. I’m still considered Admin, but…” He started clicking again, shaking his head as he did. “I think there’s a virus running through the server’s coding. It’s affecting our comms so we can’t leave, and whatever it is, is affecting the failsafes I’ve put in place. I think that’s why Tango could use his fireballs.”

There was quiet murmuring, but Jimmy couldn’t catch what anyone was saying. Instead, his attention turned to the world border he could see far in the distance. “So…what can we do?”

Grian ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. “Just… I’m workin’ on a fix. From what I can see, the limbo-state is still working fine, so we don’t have to be afraid of dying, we’ll just be stuck in this server ‘til I find a workaround.” He took another breath, and Jimmy realized it was a steadying one as the parrot’s wings flicked, smoothed, and tucked against his back. “We can keep playing, but—”

“We’re stuck here,” Cleo deadpanned. Jimmy wasn’t sure if it was the fact she was undead and it was obvious in her dark eyes, or just really good at it, but her glare sent a chill down his spine. Maybe it was a little of both.

“…Yeah. We are.”

“First you make the Double Life bonds bug out so we could still feel them when the game ended, now this?”

“Cleo—”

“Nuh-uh. What in the gods-damned void is going on?”

“I don’t know! This wasn’t meant to happen! I—”

Cleo strode forward, maybe to grab him by the collar, maybe to shove him, but Jimmy reached out to grab her by the elbow before his brain could catch up with his hands. Fortunately, the touch did actually make her stop in her tracks – even if she was still obviously seething and looked like she’d take a swipe if Grian took a step too close. “Let’s just…let him figure this out, while the rest of us go back to our bases?” he suggested softly, eyes flitting around spawn to see that Cleo wasn’t the only one on edge and ready to punch something.

“I’ll…try to disable the curse for now. And maybe make a respawn loop for if a red dies. Otherwise they’ll just have to hang out in limbo.”

Someone – Ren, if the claws he felt through his shirt were any indicator – took Jimmy by the shoulder to lead him back in the direction of the Keep. The canary kept glancing back at Grian as he fretted over his communicator, everyone but Pearl dispersing back to their bases, with the Druids at an obvious sprint to get out of the open plains of spawn.

Jimmy took a breath and shook his head. He then nodded to Ren, and the wolf bounded ahead when he was sure the canary would keep up.

Trapped. No way home, no way back to his beloved Tumble Town.

He swallowed, glanced down at his own comm to be met by the yellow “2” on the indicator. He tried not to look at his reflection in the screen, to meet his too-yellow eyes. They looked wrong when he was used to their usual brown. They were just…far too pale. He could have at least stomached it if they were the same soft gold as his wings.

The server’s lone yellow life.

…Okay.

He’d try not to think of the fact that he’d probably be the first stuck in limbo for who-knows-how-long until Grian fixed…whatever was going on.

[nikniknikin]

E rated wip I've had for ages.

Scarian choking smut fic I keep telling myself I'm going to finish but I legit started this as my FIRST forray into the fandom a whole ass year ago. This is DONE ENOUGH and the rest of the ideas I had arent coming out. If I ever get the energy to come back to this I want to elaborate on the jump and the fight.

TW: Frottage, choking, under negotiated kink, canon typical violence death and suicide.

The desert nights are cold, and while dead bodies don’t produce heat, whatever arcane trickery keeps Scar animated burns white hot somewhere in his bones. It’s odd, he knows the wind coming through the arrowslits is frigid, his skin can still feel that, but his red heart keeps his core feeling warm as a bonfire. Grian on the other hand is shivering on the adjacent bed. His clipped wings are puffed up and tucked around his torso and Scar can hear his teeth chattering. He gazes at the perfectly oval shaped silhouette that his partner makes against the moonlight coming in through the window. The lump shivers. Macaws were a tropical species right? The thin woolen blanket must not be cutting it for the poor bird. Well he can’t let that go on now can he, especially not when he’s uncomfortably warm. He speaks in a raspy stage whisper, voicing a question he very well knows the answer to. 

“Psst- you still awake?” 

He hears a put upon sigh then the lump shifts. 

“Yes.” 

“Cause you’re cold?”

“Freezing actually.”

“Here, take my blanket, I don’t need it.” Scar sits up and tosses his blanket over Grian, who immediately flaps a wing and flails an arm to jostle it off of him and back to Scar’s side of the doubled up beds.

“Wha- no. You’re cold too, surely?”

“Y’see that’s the thing G, since I went red I feel like a furnace. Whatever’s in here keeping me kicking,” he pats a fist to his bare gray chest, “it’s giving off plenty of heat in the process.” 

“Really?” Grian reaches out a hand without thinking, but stops just short of touching Scar’s shoulder as his mind catches up with his curiosity. He tries to mask the hover-handing as just reaching over for the blanket, but Scar’s eyes glint with keen recognition, and he doesn’t let Grian just brush the gesture off. 

“Really,” he confirms, “here, touch my muscles, go ahead.” Grian sighs and rolls his eyes, but when Scar takes him by the wrists and pulls his hands towards his collarbone he doesn’t resist the motion.He makes a halfhearted grumble of protest, a quiet but fond you ridiculous man under his breath. Despite that he doesn’t pull away. The warmth coming off him really is welcome and frankly a little fascinating. He may have his fingerprints on the scaffolding of this universe, but that doesn’t mean that here from inside it he knows everything about their revivals. Corpses are supposed to be cold, but Scar feels feverish. With his new gray complexion it reminds him of putting his hands on sun warmed smooth stone, but soft. Scar twitches at his touch, a high pitched ooh coming along with it. 

“You weren’t kidding. Your fingers are like icicles.”

Grian smirks at the noise, moving his cold hands up to either side of Scar’s incredibly warm neck. This gets a full squeak out of him, Grian giving a satisfied hum in response.

“Hey you asked for this, no take backs.” 

“I did, I did. You did so good today, you deserve to stick your little popsicle hands anywhere you want.” 

Grian snickers, but before he has a chance to respond, Scar tilts his head, covering his fingers with his cheek. The other Scar puts a hand over, encasing both of Grian’s hands with warmth from all sides. He lets out a long, fully involuntary sigh of relief and feels his shoulders and wings relax as his shivers finally subside. He grapples with his pride for one moment longer, but ultimately shifts closer and cuddles up to Scar’s chest. His head slots neatly beneath Scar’s chin. When Scar talks Grian feels the movement against his hair, and feels the reverberations from his throat.

“Seriously Grian, that triple you got woke me up in a way.”

“Good to know you’ve been sleeping on the job.”

“No, I mean that I get it now. Red life stuff. Hearing you cackling at the explosion made me want to kill.” 

That prompts a breathy little laugh from Grian followed by a half exasperated finally. 

“I do Grian really, I want to kill.” “Good.”

It becomes a whispered mantra, Scar reverently repeating I want to kill against the shell of his ear, the curve of his jaw, the column of his neck, just over his lips. Grian smiles and whispers back yes, yes, yes, each time, like praising a dog that’s finally mastered a challenging trick. His tone is giddy and gleeful, and his smile is bright and sharp right up until the moment that Scar’s hands wrap around his neck and squeeze. 

“Grian, I want to kill. I want to kill. I want to kill.” 

“Yes, good, yes, ye-ghhk.”

The word catches in his throat as Scar’s grip tightens and Grian’s face goes slack with shock. His open mouth flaps, once, twice, and again as his brain tries to process what’s happening. Confusion finally blooms into panic as his pulse thunders in his ears and his hands fly up to claw at Scar’s wrists. To his surprise they come away easily, and in an instant he has Scar’s wrists pinned to the wall behind his head. His red eyes are suddenly full of remorse and even something bordering on fear.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m not sure what that was. It just, it’s just like pushing Ren off that cliff. I didn’t think it’d work, it was just too tempting not to. It feels so good to tease.”

Grian draws in a shaky breath as he feels a cold draft hit the back of his neck. Scar was just fooling around, like he did with everything. He wasn’t ever a real threat. Besides, even if he was wouldn’t it be fair? He’d pledged his green life to Scar, but if he wanted to waste that gift then that was his right after all. He doesn’t want to go yellow, but he’s not backing out of his vow. This life was Scar’s to do with as he wished. Something about the comparison to Ren rattles around in his head. Scar was right, they’d all agreed to this. Immortals playing at feeling real deaths. They all wanted to know how mortality really tasted. He releases his hold on Scar’s wrists and hunkers down beneath the blanket again, tucking his frame against Scar’s once again to hide from the chill night around them.

“Tease all you want but remember, if I go yellow I’m gone.” 

“No, no, no I don’t want that. I need you here with me.” 

Scar’s arms circle around him and rub his back. His tone is gentle and almost pleading. Grian tries to relax in his hold, but the shot of adrenaline he’d gotten from being choked has other plans. It’s late, in the morning he has more work to do on the creeper farm, and he needs his rest, but his mind is buzzing and his blood is pumping, and Scar is so close and so warm and being so frustratingly tender. Grian is disappointed in his body but not surprised to find he’s hard as a rock. He tangles their legs together, unsubtly pressing himself against Scar’s thigh.

“I said tease all you want, and I meant it.”

“Oh? Oh! Oh-kay.” 

It takes Scar a beat to understand, but once he does he smirks and rolls them so that Grian is straddling him. His hands trace down to the waist of his pants making quick work of Grian’s fly and then his own. He tugs at their pants, dislodging them just enough to get their cocks free, careful of how much skin he’s exposing to the night air. To Grian’s delight he’s not the only one riled up by what just happened, and they both gasp in relief at finally getting some much needed skin to skin friction. Scar guides Grian’s hand down to circle the two of them, then brings his own hands back up to toy with the red neckline he suddenly can’t keep his eyes off of.  

“You set the pace down there, alright? And tap out if you start seeing dots or stars or anything, got it?” 

Grian nods eagerly and starts stroking lazily, once again relishing the extra heat coming from Scar’s skin. His eyelids flutter when Scar’s hands start squeezing his neck again. Before it was a sudden vice grip, but this time it’s a caress that slowly builds in force. He feels Scar’s cock twitch in his hand when he swallows reflexively at the increasing pressure, then soon enough he can’t swallow at all. He would be worried about starting to drool, but he’s locked eyes with Scar now and his partner is giving him a look. A smile so hungry and adoring that it’s hard to focus on anything other than the twinkle in his ruby red eyes and the heat pooling low in his guts. His hand speeds up but it’s not nearly enough. His lungs begin to burn, the muscles in his chest flex, trying in vain to pull in air, but Scar’s hands hold him firm. He grinds his hips down and uses his free hand to make sure they’re perfectly lined up, chasing the heat and sensation he’s desperate for. Scar’s chest rises and falls with long slow breaths that make Grian pang with envy. Each second drags out between them.

Eventually Scar’s breath starts coming heavier, something wild and deliciously brutal blooming behind his eyes. Grian ruts against him harder, faster, but it’s still not enough. He wants to come. He needs to breathe. He feels so good. He feels like he’s dying. His eyes start to roll back and everything gets shaky and blurry. He’s not blacking out, he’s just convulsing with need and want and need and want. He tries to swallow again, but all that happens is a little gurgle, and Scar groans at that. Low and long and indulgent, and Grian throbs in his own hand at the sound. He’s grateful that he’s unable to whimper the way he knows he would if any sound could escape his constricted throat. Head swimming, muscles rigid, cock leaking, he’s on the verge of tapping out when Scar releases his neck. He drinks down the chilly night air greedily and as that first gulp hits his oxygen deprived brain he comes hard enough to make his toes curl. 

Scar’s hands, still cradling his neck, slide up to cup the back of his head and pull him down into a long kiss. Grian is still too shell shocked from being choked and his subsequent orgasm to do much more than gape his mouth dumbly and heave deep breaths through his nose as Scar licks into him deep and hungrily. Eventually he gains enough composure to start kissing back, and it’s only then he realizes he’s tasting something bitter and pungent and familiar. He pulls back, sitting up and looking down at Scar quizzically. There’s a smear of pearly cum on his chin and across his lips. Grian giggles, impressed and incredulous. 

“Oh wow. I hit your face? I’ve never shot so far.” 

Scar takes one hand off of him to wipe at what remains on his face and licks himself clean, smile all smugness and satisfaction. 

“Do I win a prize?”

Grian wants to hate it, but watching that tongue glide along his fingers is making his stomach flip. The heat meets the brick wall of his refractory period though, so rather than a needy whine in response he manages a content sigh. 

“Mmmm, other than the treat you just cleaned up? Gimmie a moment to think of something- my head's still a bit fuzzy. Unless…you had something in mind already?”

-grian lazily smooches 

-blowjob

-pillow talk

“But you don’t need to be adorable, you need to be bloodthirsty. Today went well but you’ve got to start taking the lead on the killing. I’m pushing the rules as it is.” 

Scar nuzzles against him, “I think I can be both. Adorbs- Abdor- Adorabloodthirsty. Got a nice ring to it, as long as I can get my dyslexia around it, right?”

“Fine. Adorabloodthirsty, but heavy on the latter half, okay?” 

“I will be so thirsty for you Grian, just you wait.”

“Scar!”

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

“Let’s let the ghosts count us in.”

On three hearts Scar turns and flees the cactus ring, but he doesn’t get far. Clumsy from taking so many hits to the head he stumbles, and that’s all it takes for Grian to catch up and tackle him to the ground. They grapple momentarily on soot stained sand and land in a sickeningly familiar pose. Grian straddles him, but this time it’s his own hands doing the choking. Scar is smiling, would be laughing even, if he could take in any air. 

Choking him would be too slow. He’d withstood easily a minute or two during their recreational strangling and he knows he can’t look down at that bloodied smile for so long. He can’t bear it, so he pulls up, raises Scar’s head up an inch or two, then slams it back down on the sandstone beneath them. There’s a wet thud, and Scar’s smile breaks, shattering into an instinctive grimace. Grian does it again, and again, and again. He sobs dryly, each crack of Scar’s skull followed by a ruthless and empty I’m sorry. He does it until the grimace goes slack and Scar’s eyes go glassy. Then he’s alone on monopoly mountain. Alone save for the howling ghosts congratulating and condemning him in equal measure. He thinks Scar might be in that ethereal crowd too now. He should be right? Just another soul bound up in this game? But there’s no cheery baritone congratulating him from beyond the grave. The watchers are still hungry, and he has the makings of one last meal in him. 

He stands, shaky on his feet, and trudges towards the cliff. He looks out over the crater, his greatest failed trap of all. Nonetheless, pride blooms in his queasy stomach, and if he was sticking around he’d be worried about the bile rising in his throat. As it is there’s no time for that because keeps his wings tucked firmly to his sides as he leaps into a freefall.

[bluebirbalt]

Febuwhump day Two- solitary confinement

Fandom-Hermitcraft

Cw:Panic, solitary confinement

Summary-Grian woke up in hermitcraft in a small room. At least the food is good.

If you would prefer to read on ao3

Grian woke up to the sound of people talking, confused as to where he was. He sat up, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes, before taking a glance at his surroundings. He was in a small white room, with a bed with white sheets and a pillow he was currently sitting on. The mattress wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was better than sleeping on the floor. There was a toilet and a small sink in the corner, which he grimaced at. In the front of the room, there was an iron door with a slit in it, just large enough for him to be able to stick his hand in, if he tried, and at eye level, and a small flap at the bottom of the door, no larger than his head. Grian stood out of the bed slowly, his muscles aching from the small motion, shaking his wings out, bright feathers fluttering softly to the floor. At least they aren't tied up or clipped, Grian thought, grimacing at the thought of the damage that would cause to his wings.

“Hello?” He called out, walking to the door slowly with a slight limp, glancing through the slit in the door.

“Oh! You're awake!” a familiar voice called out, coming into view on the slip of the door.

“Mumbo?!” Grain exclaimed. “Where am I? Why am I here? What is this place? Why am I here?” He asked quickly, saying everything in a single breath, starting to panic, his wings fluttering slightly.

“Take a deep breath, Grian. You're safe here.” He spoke softly, trying not to panic Grian anymore than he already is.

“But where is here?!” Grian asked, panicking even more, his wings now fluffed up as he paced around the small room he was in, if he could even call it a room.

Mumbo sighed softly. “You're on Hermitcraft season 6.” He replied, talking in the same tone as before.

“But how did I get here? The last thing I remember”-he paused, taking a breath before starting again, his voice softer. “The last thing I remember was trying to escape from Them. I don't know how I managed to get through the firewall, I just know I was panicked and tried to end up in a place where I would be safe. I guess I ended up in Hermitcraft. I just remember crash landing in a grassy field before passing out, then I woke up here. Why am I here by the way?” He asks, his voice shuddering slightly, facing the door once more as he stopped pacing halfway through speaking.

“Grian, you're here because the others don't trust you. I'm the only one here who knows you -or knew you-, and I haven't seen you in years. They don't know if you are safe to be around. I tried to tell the others you would never hurt them, I really did. Void, I'm such a spoon, I should have tried harder, I know, I'm so sorry about this. I mean, you breached through our firewalls, they don't know how dangerous you are. I'm so sorry, Grian.” He slid a bowl of soup through the door, with a piece of bread, before walking away, shaking slightly.

“Mumbo! Wait!” Grian called out, bowl of soup in one hand and bread in the other.

He sighs sitting down on the bed, eating the soup, savoring the slightly salty taste of the broth, before eating the bread, expecting it to be stale but finding it to be soft and fresh. “At least the food is good.” He muttered, before sitting there, waiting. For something, anything. But nobody came, nothing happened. He was alone again, and trapped. It reminded him of the Watchers, honestly. The way he was alone, only with his thoughts, the way he couldn't escape. He didn't even know how he got here for voids sake, how was he supposed to get out of this room. He didn't know how long he would be here, he didn't know how long its been, he didn't know what time it was. There were so many things he didn't know, and that scared him. And the fact that he was trapped, and that he was alone once again.

Sometime in his thoughts he fell asleep, the small bed uncomfortable with his wings. Only waking up to the sound of a quiet sound, opening his eyes to find another piece of bread and shiny red apple on a plate, with a glass of water next to it. How long has it been? He thought, walking to the door to pick up the food, glancing through the slit in the door but seeing nothing but a grey hallway. He sits back on the bed, the bread tasting the same as the other piece, the apple fresh and juicy.

“Mumbo?” Grian called out on a whim, not thinking he would get an answer but still hoping for one. His call was only met in silence. He shuddered softly, his wings making a quiet rustling sound, the only other sound in the room other than the sound of his heart pounding his chest and the faint hum of electricity. He really was alone again, naturally. After all, It's how he always ends up. Alone, and trapped.

[shadeswift99]

Hermempirescraft Jimmy should still get canary wings except this time he has two servers’ worth of People With Experience to help him.

YESSSSSS - although given who we're dealing with here, I'm not exactly sure if "help" is the right word -

Jimmy's wings start coming in a week after the Hermempirescraft fusion. By now, he's just about figured out that something about him spells bad news in situations where death is a possibility. Every time he's walked past the Boatem hole, somebody falls into it, and he's completely given up saying hi in chat in the morning because of how often the greeting is "coincidentally" followed by a death message. In this world, though, respawn seems to be a more sure thing than in the Empires world alone, so it doesn't really cause him any stress. It's just funny and kind of annoying. The wings, though...are a bit harder to come to terms with. It was just really sudden, and it itches, and how is he supposed to use these things when he can barely even land with an elytra without breaking an ankle on a good day - !

Thankfully (?) he has Grian and fWhip! They're here! They have wings! They're ready to help! By giving wildly conflicting advice! Loudly! At the exact same time! :D

Grian genuinely wants to be helpful, but he's just had his wings for so long that he doesn't really serve as a great teacher for how to adjust to them at the beginning. Also, his "bully Jimmy" instincts are so strong that most of his "advice" just boils down to flying loops around Jimmy's head while saying "why can't you just do this, Tim! Just fly like this!" Meanwhile, fWhip has a lot more recent experience with navigating newfound winged-ness, but his daredevil tendencies really don't mesh well with Jimmy's desire to Not Die Eight Million Times in the process of learning. Any question along the lines of "well how did you figure this part out?" usually ends up with fWhip showing off his wide collection of scars from minor scrapes and scratches earned bouncing off rooftops and clipping fences as he zoomed around the Grimlands to improve his muscle memory.

Between the two of them, though, Jimmy does learn a lot! By flying away from them. Rapidly. They've concocted some game for him to "improve reflexes" that involves playing chicken with a piece of lit TnT, and Jimmy isn't really sure where this whole thing went so badly off the rails but he knows damn well he doesn't want anything to do with that -

Of course, after he does manage to get airborne in the combination of panic and explosion updraft, fWhip and Grian claim that that was their plan all along and are very pleased with themselves for being such good teachers. They genuinely are proud of Jimmy, though! They take off and fly with him as he woops and spins and enjoys the feel of the breeze through his new feathers, and they all land in a laughing heap when Jimmy realizes he doesn't have the built up muscle to stay flying for long yet. That will develop with time, though - time, more "fun games", and many more teaching sessions to come.

[redorich]

A favorite trope of mine has always been- getting to see another person’s past. Is it some kind of judgment thing by a higher power? Something like Freeze Day from SCTFOE? Person trapped in a nightmare and their nightmare is being projected? Who knows. All that’s important is after months of healing, some of the Hermits get to see exactly what Tommy went through. It shows short clips of him before being happy, the rise and fall of Manburg, Wilbur going insane, the festival, the withers, all of it. Just short clips of these things though. The last clip of the SMP is just Dream’s mask outlined by his green hood saying, “you’ll stay here alone with just me until you learn to be quite and respectful and not fight those who are in power over you. Even if you have to stay out here *forever*.”

This turned into a whole drabble smh xD

((btw @give-grian-rights helped me so thank you))

-------

The remaining hermits aren’t sure what happened. They have no way of knowing. There was a witch involved, Cub thinks, but what their fallen friends must have done to piss her off to the point of getting cursed is beyond their ken. Among those laid out are Cleo, Grian, Xisuma, Zedaph, and Tommy.

Scar and Cub work their Vex magic together to figure out that their friends are trapped in their worst memories. (Etho calls it a Demonic Hell Viewing Illusion, and False smacks him upside the head for the Naruto reference.) Holding hands with a victim pulls you in, but that’s what they’re counting on. Joe’s already wading through Cleo’s nightmare before anyone gets the chance to ask, and Impulse and Tango aren’t far behind doing the same for Zedaph. However, it doesn’t work for Grian, Xisuma, and Tommy; they were found already holding hands. They must have figured something out about the curse before they succumbed to it. All the hermits can do for them, for the time being, is hope.

Tommy, Grian, and Xisuma wake to the smell of sulphur and smoke. The ground is orange and littered with bullets. Grian grabs Tommy’s hand, and Xisuma grabs a discarded rifle. Tommy points his finger up at the top of a mound of scrap metal and dead bodies. There’s a nether portal, except the obsidian is whiter than quartz. That's where they have to go to get out of here.

All around them, demons lurch and shriek and hiss and all sorts of unholy behavior, bodily flinging themselves at the trio as though they know none of them can take the men on their own, and that just by dogpiling them all one of them will get lucky. Xisuma instantly snaps into a professional mode, the way he sometimes does when he's killing zombies but they keep social spawning. He takes up the lead with machine gun fire and grenades, carving a path through the crowd. Grian takes up the rear with a handgun. Neither Xisuma nor Tommy ask why Grian is so comfortable with a gun. They've got more pressing issues.

An imp gets lucky. It's just enough to crack the visor of Xisuma's helmet, and the imp instantly gets mowed down.

"I can't see," Xisuma rasps through gritted teeth.

"Then take the helmet off," Tommy says, cleaving through an enemy with a sharp piece of scrap metal. Grian breathes in sharply. As far as Grian's aware, Xisuma always wears his helmet.

Xisuma goes quiet for a second. "I suppose you've got a point."

The helmet gets dropped to the ground and demon limbs shuffle it away. They don't have time to look at Xisuma's wild brown hair, his purple eyes, the burn scars on his jaw.

They make it to the portal all in one piece. Xisuma takes one last wistful look at the Martian hellscape, then takes his friends' hands. They step through the portal together.

----

They step out of the portal into the foyer of a high school. Grian's eyes shutter.

"We'll be headed toward the roof, I believe," he says, staring dully through the spectre of a broken, bloody man holding a rope.

Tommy latches onto Grian's clammy hand to ground him as the three ascend stairs and traverse the dark, winding hallways. The ghost follows them. It isn't like Ghostbur-- it's, well, not vengeful, but it's not kind. The man named Gareth keens about Grian's sins, about a boy named Taurtis who Gareth hates, about mafia and yakuza, about his poor wife Jane.

On the last set of stairs, Gareth makes a wailing remark that causes Grian to bodily flinch. Tommy doesn't even know what the ghost said (he wasn't listening).

"Fuck off," Tommy says, "you're the shittest ghost I've ever met. Even my brother could..."

He trails off. This is not the way to fix things for Grian. On a hunch, he reaches into his pocket. Of course the object he's looking for is in there; it's his brother's coat.

He holds the object out to the ghost. "Have some blue."

Gareth warily takes it, dropping his rope. It floods periwinkle, then cyan, then dark royal blue. A weight seems lifted from the ghost's shoulders as he clutches the blue, mutters something about Jane, and leaves.

Tommy takes Grian's hand, then Xisuma's, and they go through the door to the school's rooftop together. They halt as one. The portal is there. Standing between them is a boy maybe Tommy's age, with a corpse at his feet.

"Sam," Grian whispers. "Taurtis."

The standing boy smiles, eyes obscured by a purple mask with a rectangular symbol on it, and flexes bloody wings. The corpse on the ground has blood all over its back, where wings once were, and broken headphones around his neck.

"Man, Grian, you really held out on me," Sam says. "This Watcher power really is something else--"

Sam topples over backward. His body hits the ground in front of the portal. Xisuma lowers his gun.

"He looked like bad news," Xisuma says.

Grian grimaces. "He was. Come on, let's go."

They once again step into the portal.

----

“Do you want to be a hero, Tommy?” Technoblade roars, “Then die like one!”

Their paltry little group of three gets no chance to take in their surroundings, to see what’s going on and where they need to go. All they can process is the legendary PvP champion, acolyte of the Blood God, Technoblade, unleashing Withers upon what once might have been a town.

Tommy yanks them into cover. “I don’t know where the portal is,” he hisses.

Grian squeezes his shoulder. “We’ll find it.”

Explosions rain hellfire down upon them from all angles-- not just the Withers, but TNT buried in the ground. They’re so close, they can see the man who set it off. And he must have, because he’s yelling about it, yelling about his L’Manberg and his unfinished symphony and begging his father to kill him. He’s wearing Tommy’s coat--

Bile rises in the back of Grian’s throat. Tommy wears his brother’s coat.

Tommy’s eyes are glued to the gleaming diamond sword that Wilbur gives to his father. He watches his brother die all over again, and he knows where he must go. He turns his back on his broken family and breathes.

“We need to go to the Nether,” he says. They nod.

The black portal is across the battlefield. They come across corpses more than once on their way, but ignore them. They can’t afford not to.

In the Nether, there is a rickety, dangerous pathway with no rails, made of cobblestone and obsidian and oak logs. Manic-depressive ravings on signs proclaim the path as the road to Logstedshire. Piglins try to knock them off to no avail, and ghasts blow up the bridge behind them as they run. On the other side of the Logstedshire portal is... actually not a hellscape, as Grian and Xisuma have come to expect, but a little village encampment. Nothing is blown up, nothing is amiss, except Tommy himself. And, of course, the figure they spot after they catch Tommy staring at it.

It’s Dream. The up-and-coming famous speedrunner who Grian faintly recalls killing once in MCC, which was apparently a big deal. The man approaches, and Grian realizes where he recognizes the mask from. It’s the same one that Tommy wears.

“Tommy,” Dream says conversationally, “items in the pit.”

Tommy’s hand wavers, reaches up to unclasp his chestplate, but Xisuma’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“No,” Tommy says.

“No?” Dream parrots incredulously. “You know the rules. It’s for your own good. Armor in the pit. Tools in the pit. Friends in the pit.”

They all gasp, though for different reasons. Tommy’s eyes narrow. “Friends in the pit? You’ve never said that one before.”

Dream’s head twitches. “Friends in the pit. Friends. In the pit.”

The man’s voice is deeper than Tommy remembers. Something seems to resolve within Dream’s behavior, yet he keeps twitching. “You’re in exile, Tommy, you don’t need. Friends. I’m all you need. You were doing so good. I thought you learned to behave. I’m all you need. You don’t need friends.”

What happened to the eloquent poison that used to drip from Dream’s tongue like honey? He sounds like a broken record. All at once, Tommy staggers under the weight of the realization that this isn’t Dream. Somewhere underneath that horrible man that abused him is the real Dream, trapped in his own body and watching the dreamon that possessed him hurt his friends.

Xisuma’s gun makes an appearance again, but Tommy holds up a hand in a silent request for the admin to hold his fire. Tommy grabs Dream by the shoulders, removes Dream’s mask and then his own so that he can look the man in the eyes. “I know you’re in there, Dream. When I get out of this nightmare, I’ll save you. I swear it on my discs.”

Dream’s face twitches erratically. The movement spreads to his whole head, neck jerking. He raises straight up into the air, higher and higher, then explodes into a shower of items and no body. A white portal shimmers into existence.

“What the hell was that?!” Grian demands.

Tommy grins, taking the man’s hand and leading him to the portal. “I’ve got a friend to save.”

Grian snarls. “Tommy, he abused you. He’s not your friend.”

“That wasn’t Dream. It was a--”

“Dreamon,” Xisuma breathes.

Tommy nods. They walk through the portal together, and when they wake, holding each other close, they know they’ve got a mission. They can do it.

[justfor2am]

grian + philza = madness /pos (to me)

i really wanna write a fic of grian escaping the Watchers and soaring through the Void trying to find a hidey hole but instead of hermitcraft he finds himself in philza's hardcore world, only he's not locked to one life like phil is.

this is a single-player world, grian being here at all shouldn't be possible. but by some mercy of the universe his code isn't torn apart. problem is, he's still a newly formed god who's terrified of his own powers and can't leave the server because the watchers are circling just beyond in the Void, and so he stays.

phil finds grian quickly enough, digging through his starter base's chests trying to find something to sneak off-world with that would help him avoid detection, and the two spook one another.

they strike a deal: phil would help grian learn to control his powers since he's so knowledgeable on so many different topics (how old did he say he was again?) in exchange for grian helping around the world and not breaking anything/get him killed.

and so grian becomes phil's student, and eventually finds himself calling the server home, building his own separate structures and using his Watcher powers to keep an eye (literally) on phil, warning him of dangers and the like.

but eventually a mistake is made, one neither had accounted for: phil visiting the dsmp. and as phil journeys far away to slaughter his own son, that break in the world's seal is enough for the Watchers to pull grian out, even as he fights back, tooth and claw.

phil returns to an apologetic note scribbled and shoved into a chest, broken feathers scattered on the floor.

and grian is put back into the very cage he escaped from, wings clipped, angry and miserable and panicked. without realizing it, he had become that hardcore world's Watcher, and a Watcher torn away from their world is like, well, clipping a bird's wings. it takes their freedom away.

and the space he filled on that world gapes wide open, there's a notable lack of magic where there once was, and phil isn't about to take this lying down by any fucking means.

as lady death's own champion, her angel, he has more authority in matters of the Void than grian really ever knew. phil hadn't bothered given grian all his titles, what did that matter in the end? titles don't kill the ender dragon, you know.

so when grian hears that he and the Watchers of Evo have been called to a meeting by the one and only "Goddess of Death", and her charge, the "Angel of Death", he's only a little tiny bit terrified.

he's even more worried when arriving in the End, the universally agreed upon neutral territory for deities and the like to meet, that he sees phil, arms crossed, a quiet anger splayed across his face.

it doesn't take long for grian to put the pieces together, and he's completely gobsmacked by the truth.

phil, his teacher, his saving grace, the man who herds crows to trail behind him that relentlessly bully him, he's supposed to be the feared angel?

and the glamor goes down, and grian can feel the blackened aura of deadly magic around phil, and any doubt left in his mind vanishes.

then again, the black wings should've been a dead giveaway.

the Watchers argue that they should be able to keep grian because not only did he break their agreement to leave the mortal plane, he was not given another world to Watch, and a Watcher without a server is a dangerous thing.

except, as phil is happy to point out, grian does have a world. his hardcore server. and as he lists all the ways grian has acted as a dutiful Watcher to his server, he realizes he's come into his own power more gracefully than he'd ever realized.

and with Lady Death as their witness, the Watchers are forced to concede grian to phil's side, bitter but respectful of the Void's rules.

and phil, laughing at grian's slow realization that phil was much more powerful than he'd first let on, introduces him to kristin. grian's still not at all terrified.

eventually grian does leave phil's side, missing the chase of other players and messing around the way he could on Evo. he would find himself on Hermitcraft, swearing his loyalty to HC as his new home server, and pinky promising not to use his Watcher powers too much.

but this doesn't stop grian from taking a moment every night, right as the moon starts to rise, to close his eyes and open them somewhere else, millions of blocks of Void away, and peering in on phil's world, whispering ideas and jokes. even with the glamor of a player on for HC, he was always going to be a Watcher at heart.

Grian was the Watcher of the Angel of Death's Hardcore world, and he took great pride in that title.

[vitamx]

watch and learn: chapter 1 (rewritten)

[ Also read on AO3! ] [ You are here! ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 3 ] [ Chapter 4 ]

---

A seemingly endless storm roared throughout the sky, the rain pattering loudly against the ground, faint echoes of thunder rumbling throughout the server…

 Yes, tonight was a night were Mumbo could never seem to succumb to slumber.

Perhaps it was because the sky itself was awake, or perhaps it was because the occasional flashes of lighting startled him back to full awareness, but on nights like these, Mumbo simply could not fall asleep.

Although, Mumbo thought, perhaps the storm was only surrounding Hermitville? Perhaps, if he went over to his base back on the main island…

His mind was made fairly quickly- after all, anything was better than trying to fall asleep and failing for hours on end.

Slowly rolling himself out of the creaky bed, which had not been worn down in the slightest, Mumbo blindly placed a spare redstone torch down upon the floor, rubbing his tired eyes as he suppressed a yawn.

He reached towards his elytra that had been half-hazardly draped across the floor, strapping it on slowly as to not pinch himself with any of the clips.

 Stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders, Mumbo peeked into his inventory, humming silently to himself.

Pulling out a splash potion of night vision, he squinted his eyes in anticipation as he threw the bottle against the floor. The powder quickly rose from its place on the ground, coating his body with chemical-scented particles, his eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the potion’s effects.

 Stumbling out of the cozy house he had made for himself in Hermitville, Mumbo shivered nearly instantly as he exited the miniature base- it felt like a blizzard rather than a thunderstorm, in all honesty.

He tried to pay it no attention, quickly firing a rocket to propel him into the sky, and towards the watchtower that held the village’s nether portal inside.

  He was wringing his now drenched hair out when he saw it in the corner of his eye.

  What was it, exactly? It looked almost like a winged person, crouched upon Scar’s floating castle that loomed above Hermitville- and they were staring directly at him.

Mumbo’s breath hitched in his throat, flinching as the coldness crept up his neck, nearly suffocatingly.

Had he not applied the potion of night vision, he likely would not have spotted the figure, whose wings sprouted largely behind their back.

No one on the server had wings that appeared as such- only elytras, and even then, they held the appearance of butterfly wings, nothing more…

A blink of the eye, and the figure was gone without a trace.

Mumbo never flew by so quickly throughout the nether before- though no matter how swiftly he traveled towards his own nether portal, he would not have been able to catch the spying eyes that trailed after him, glinting mischievously as though they had found a piece of prey.

---

Mumbo was more than glad to have made it back to his base in one piece- after all, he had looked a strange entity directly in the eye and ran away immediately after.

The storm was now nothing more than a measly sprinkle of rain, the atmosphere much more welcoming.

Rubbing his eyes, Mumbo exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, shivering from his cold, damp suit that clung to his skin uncomfortably.

“Ugh, now I need to change, too…” He complained to nobody in particular, sneezing after barely a second’s notice- twice, in fact.

  Although, just as he was about to tread off to his room and change into a comfy pair of sleepwear, the temperature dropped. His breath escaped his lips in a white, foggy mist, the water that clung to his outfit nearly freezing over.

  “Bless you,” An unfamiliar voice behind him whispered, sounding amused and beguiled.

  Without even thinking, Mumbo swung himself around, elbowing the figure directly in the face, wincing as a loud crack! echoed throughout his base, accompanied by a yell of pain.

Mumbo took several steps back, heart pounding in his chest. His arm, which had made contact with the person, felt nearly numb, succumbing to a chilling, brumal cold.

The figure itself appeared to be that of a man, gowned in a deep purple and neon-purple accented dress that ended at his knees, with lighter purple wings draping wistfully across the floor. He wore three silver necklaces, black fingerless gloves, and black leggings- a recurring symbol in neon purple accented the outfit mysteriously.

  “Wh-who are you?!” Mumbo yelled, reaching for his communicator instantaneously.

  Like a bolt of lighting, the figure snapped his head up, gazing directly into Mumbo’s eyes menacingly.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll put that communicator down and let me talk,” He hissed, making Mumbo halt in his tracks, eyes widening in diluted fear.

  “O- Okay, okay…” Mumbo replied, his voice shaky. He raised his hands to rest open-palmed beside his shoulders in surrender. “Oh gosh… What… What do you want?”

  “Ah, now that’s much better, see?” The figure hummed, a polite smile growing on his face. “My name is Grian! Or Empire, if you’d rather call me that… So sorry for the scare.”

“See, I was sent down here into this world for some menial task… I haven’t quite finished it yet, but erm… Well, no one was really supposed to see me. Understand?” He murmured, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “So I’d super-duper appreciate it if you kept your mouth zipped.” He grinned, swiping his fingers across his mouth like a zipper.

  Unable to speak, still in shock with his heart beating loudly against his chest, Mumbo nodded wordlessly.

  “It isn’t really anything personal, you know? Rules and regulations, all that sort… I’d hate to destroy the, erm, inhabitants of this server if word were to get out about me being here.” Grian hummed, the same small, polite smile never leaving his face. “Oh, but who knows? Perhaps we’ll talk again very soon…”

“Bye-bye for now, Mumbo Jumbo!”

  In mere seconds, the figure leaped into the air and flew away into the sky itself, leaving behind nothing but a single, purple feather.

---

[zeejax]

(shakes tin can) spare npc grian lore, cent?

ah FUCK yeah okay so

according to the one hour build swap with taurtis, grian was trying to summon the ultimate builder via a spell he found. it involved using a formation of rustic houses. so npg is grian-confirmed to be a demon. however, he’s also supposed to be a robot???? there’s an intro clip grian did once where he was working on npg like a robot, and npg has said stuff like “this is not in my code,” so like... i derive from that.

anyway onto headcanon land:

-grian’s original Ultimate Building robot was a complete failure. theoretically, it was great— it had everything grian knew about building coded in, and it was physically very capable of carrying through, but it had no ai. it couldn’t identify what kind of build would look best where, it couldn’t account for location or terraforming, it couldn’t understand any flexibility and would simply leave gaps in builds if the designated block was unavaiable. it couldn’t learn. then, one way or another, he stumbled across the summoning thing. he used it and the empty vessel of npg to create a consciousness (unfortunately... well, it didn’t exactly work out)

- physically, npg is uncanny. he looks just enough like grian to catch you off-guard, but the differences are unsettling once you start to notice. just the slightest hint that he’s made of metal with a grian disguise plastered on top. he’s a tiny bit larger, more imposing, capable. his facial expression is almost static. it’s a constant grin— time to learn how to build a rustic house :) !— but sometimes you can see the demon in his eyes, in the slight strain of his smile. real grian has blemishes and scars and even a bit of discoloration— he’s very alive. npg doesn’t have any of that. he’s almost a “perfect” version of grian, or what you could imagine grian thinks would be a better version. stronger, scarless, all smooth skin and intimidation.

- his mannerisms are off putting as well. grian is clumsy but he moved smoothly, animated and with lots of personality. npg is jerky, limited, too slow and observant with the ability to move just too fast. it’s almost like how hermits like biffa or doc move. however, npg never fully did learn how to, well, learn. not in practical ways. so his movements are just as calculated and unnatural as they were the first time he stood, never having the capabilities to adapt and learn naturality. overall, it’s easy to mistake him for grian at first glance, but the longer you look...

- that is, excluding the wings. grian has wings— complex and delicate insect wings. of course, those are new upon his arrival at hermitcraft. npg out dates them. grian wishes he could take comfort in the fact that he can fly and npg can’t, but the thing somehow has levitation abilities. grian knows he didn’t impliment anything that should allow npg to hover as he does, but ever since he summoned npg’s consciousness, well, a lot has changed.

- (sorry to focus SO MUCH on how npg looks but) it’s pretty easy to see that he’s largely a robot. his charging port/power button is located on the back of his neck for easy access. his pupils are obviously camera lenses if you look closely. even more obvious is that grian never bothered to put a “skin” over the areas covered by clothes— everywhere excluding his neck, head, and forearms are exclusively mechanical.

- grian is 100% afraid of npg. he bosses npg around and shoves him in closets, but sometimes npg disobeys and it makes grian nervous. he knows npg is built to be stronger and faster than himself, and he knows absolutely nothing about whatever the fuck is inside the “vessel.” it’s not terrifying, per se, since it seems that the thing is just really into rustic houses, but it is a little nerve wracking whenever he just finds npg’s closet empty. anyone else who’s met npg either thinks he’s adorable or legitimately horrifying. no in between.

- their relationship isn’t all bad, though. for a while, grian spent a lot of time with npg, testing and checking his abilities. he found that npg had developed a slight personality, liking and disliking things outside of rustic houses. they talked (or tried to). once, npg even hesitated before refusing to build anything but a rustic house! grian considers that a milestone. “npc grian” was originally an affectionate name.

- similar to evil x, npg wanders about the worlds that grian resides in, silently bumbling about. grian isn’t really sure if he’s actually getting out, because he’s always in his closet when grian checks, but he’s very suspicious of the rustic houses cropping up.

- in his current world, hermitcraft, npg hasn’t made many appearances. although, some hermits have remarked about a strange grian guy they’ve briefly run into. usually they spot him and assume it’s grian, but gradually notice how... off he seems. they go to approach, but as soon as the figure senses them, it floats away faster than they can match. the next time they visit the area, an entire rustic house has impossibly appeared there. grian’s kinda embarrassed of npg, so he doesn’t let slip what the thing is. it’s on area 77’s hit list.

- aside from getting his fix of rustic houses, npc grian does venture out for other reasons. for example, there’s this red guy who isn’t like the other hermits. he seems to always find npg, and gives him tips on how to hide from grian’s friends. he has a weird voice that sounds similar to how npg’s voice used to sound before grian made his voicebox more realistic. his name confuses npg because it’s the same name he has stored in his memory card for one of the hermits, but the person assures him that he isn’t the same being as the hermit. npg tries, but being able to understand isn’t in his code. he just calls the guy “friend.” being polite and friendly is in his programming! the friend seems amused by npg’s fixation on rustic houses, and likes to ask and suggest things as he watches npg build. he even lives in some of npg’s houses! it makes npg very happy because rustic houses are meant to be lived in. the guy doesn’t seem to build much, so npg gets a willing participant in his Rustic House Tutorials.

- now you may ask, how did grian build a functional, complex robot??? he can’t do even basic redstone! well here’s where it gets complicated. grian’s other worlds have had advanced electronics, much more delicate and intricate than redstone. a very different energy source and style. the closest thing to that in hermitcraft is doc, scar, iskall, and biffa’s bionics, but they’re still a very different system than what grian and npg know.