#its like Grian’s thing but to the extreme

[theethoslab]

I’m dying to know if the hermits have seen Etho’s cursed headset photo. He may not use them anymore, but just this image alone might still put him at the weirdest setup

[infizero]

thinking about dl!scar makes me sad for many reasons but one of the worst is thinking about him knowing far too well that grian is unhappy with him and just having to live with that

[theminecraftbee]

"Doesn't count," is the first thing Jimmy says when he opens his eyes again.

YOU WILL FIND I DECIDE WHETHER OR NOT--

"Nope! Doesn't count," Jimmy says. "Fuck you--I can swear no one's watching I'm dead--fuck you, doesn't count, I wasn't first, baby!"

WHAT? NO, AS I SAID, I AM THE ONE WHO DECIDES WHETHER IT COUNTS OR NOT. AND YOU WILL FIND--

"Doesn't count! And don't try to--I'm not sad about it. I mean I am, I'd have preferred not to get obliterated by a warden, but like, as I said, fuck you, it doesn't count."

YOU'RE DEAD.

"Yeah well, I mean, that part counts, sure. Pretty familiar at this point, right? And--man okay now that all the, the game is wearing off, I do feel a little bad about Lizzie. I really didn't mean to kill her last session. Except I don't feel that bad. Because it doesn't count baby."

The figure standing next to Jimmy shuffles its incorporeal feet. I ADMIT I AM VERY CONFUSED RIGHT NOW. YOU ARE DEAD.

"Yep."

YOU ARE NOT ARGUING THAT.

"I mean, sort of hard to at this point, right?"

WHY DO YOU KEEP SAYING IT DOES NOT COUNT. IT DOES. I AM HERE WITH THE SCYTHE AND EVERYTHING. I HAVE DRESSED UP TRADITIONALLY. MOST OF THE TIME YOU'RE SCREAMING ABOUT HOW IT'S NOT FAIR AND YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE AND ALL OF THAT.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't count, so I'm not going to do that."

IT DOESN'T COUNT AS... DYING?

Jimmy shrugs.

THAT ISN'T--YOU KNOW THIS ISN'T HOW THIS WORKS?

Jimmy laughs, and all at once, it's bitter and exhausted and everything else he's been feeling for two years, since he stepped into a circle with Grian to start a game and stepped out again the first casualty on a battlefield. He's not sure he can name what the emotion is. He just... does.

"Doesn't count," he says.

VERY WELL. THAT DOES NOT CHANGE WHAT MY ROLE IN THIS IS, EVEN IF YOU ARE... EXTREMELY CONFUSING.

"I want to go say thanks to Lizzie. Maybe apologize for the whole accidental murder thing but mostly thank her for being bad at the game." Jimmy pauses. "Is that mean?" He pauses again. "No she'd totally do that to me in my place. So yeah. Here you go. Take me away, big man."

The incorporeal figure shuffles its feet again. I. AND THAT'S IT? THAT'S ALL YOU'RE GOING TO SAY?

"I mean, yeah," Jimmy says. "It doesn't count. I don't have anything else to say because--well, it was unremarkable, wasn't it? That's the good bit about it."

MOST PEOPLE PREFER DYING REMARKABLY.

"Most people are stupid," Jimmy says, and he grabs Death's hand, and they leave.

[redstonedust]

current random thing im amused by is who certain youtubers have in their reccomended channels section

for example:

etho's is very mindcrack era, with the nho being the only hermits on there. i get the feeling he probably hasn't updated it in a while, this is the guy who took like 6 years to update his skin /lh

xb is extremely selective. he's like. this is my girlfriend and my two besties. what else do you need.

grian still has taurtis/joeyish on his :(

jevin and xisuma don't have room for friends apparently, it's a self promo party up in here

also extremely funny that most people have theirs as either ''Featured Channels'' or some variation of ''my cool friends!'' and then joel is over here like

theres even more funny little things to me like how many hermits seem to link to rendog when he doesnt link to anyone back. etc etc. i just think its neat to see who they chose to prioritize amfemgfke.

[frozenjokes]

Put Me In Perspective, Or At Least In My Place (Another Retrospective On Aromantic Love)

“Above your head like this. Both hands, look at me. Both hands, Grian. It doesn’t take a lot of strength, just step forward and release around eye level.” Cleo demonstrated, holding the axe at the end of its handle and releasing the weapon. It flew in what had to be a perfect arc before burying itself in the wood, a bullseye of course. She threw the axe like she’d done it a thousand times, and honestly, she probably had.

“Don’t people throw them with one hand, too?”

“Yes. It’s just harder. Try this first.”

Grian pursed his lips, stepping forward, throwing, then squeaking when the axe bounced terrifyingly off the wood, hitting the wall before rolling and bumping the curb that separated the stall and his feet. Ah. That was frightening.

“Nearly took out our ankles there,” Cleo said, not sounding all too concerned.”

“It- Can it bounce over that?”

“Not easily. But not uncommonly either. Try not to do that.” Cleo strode forward, plucking the axe off the ground and handing it to Grian. “Don’t throw it while I’m in there.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

“Maybe you won’t, but some people need to be told,” Cleo grunted, ripping the axe she’d thrown from the wall and spinning it thoughtlessly in her hand before burying it in the stump that split their twin alleys. “Try again. Keep your wrists straighter, release at eye level.”

Grian shifted his weight, frowning, “Surely you brought me here to talk about something else other than axe throwing. ‘Cancel your plans, I’m picking you up,’ is an extremely ominous message to receive from a stranger at 8:00 at night. How did you get my number again?”

“Pearl. And we aren’t strangers, we’ve met at least once at that big friend get-together thing, you know. That awful pizza place? Regardless, I’m friends with runners, so force is necessary 90% of the time. If you want to skip to the talking, we can talk, but I don’t know if you want to hear what I have to say.”

“I probably don’t.”

“Then start throwing and I’ll do the work. You’ll get it to stick, just give her a few tries.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in me.”

“Everyone gets it eventually.” Cleo looked relaxed, unconcerned, and Grian tried to match the energy, but he couldn’t quite shake his anxiety. Well. He was here, so he might as well make the most of it.

It took six more tries before he got an axe to stick. Wow that was satisfying- but the air seemed a little too heavy to celebrate more than Cleo’s tasteful clapping. Maybe he should come back here with Pearl and Impulse.. Jimmy maybe? He’d kill to see Jimmy try this actually, even if he’d likely crush Grian in the end. When Grian went to collect the two axes from the stall, Cleo finally spoke.

“I’d like to know what’s going on between you and Scar. Properly. It’s been a particularly shitty week for our friend group and Scar’s been in a foul mood for more reason than one, so we haven’t talked. And I’m not just here to interrogate you about Scar either, I’d really like to know what’s going through your head as well. Have you seen each other this week? Have you talked at all?” Cleo was firm, but nothing about their voice was hostile. There was a worried longing there, the kind of urging that came from a deep concern for a good friend.

Grian took a deep breath. “Not much. I saw him a couple days ago when I was getting lunch with Pearl at the zoo. He only texted me one other time to tell me he wouldn’t be.. we have this mutual place we hang out, and he just told me he wouldn’t be around this week. Too much going on. I’m really sorry about Etho by the way, I hope you guys find him.”

“Thank you. Bdubs got in contact with him yesterday, so we know he’s alright. We still don’t know where he is or when he’s coming home, but from what I’ve heard, he’s keeping frequent contact. Hasn’t called me or Scar, but that’s typical. With any luck he’ll be back safely soon. That’s what Etho said anyway. Still all sorts of concerning, but we’ll take what we can get.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.” Grian tried not to be hurt that Scar hadn’t updated him, but failed miserably despite the fact it probably wasn’t any of his business. He just would’ve liked to know, that’s all.

“It is. So how did that clusterfuck of a night happen between you and Scar? How did that start?”

“Oh,” Grian mumbled, fidgeting with the axe still in his hands. Cleo took the other from the stump, throwing it almost lazily, like the question didn’t matter to her much at all. Grian decided to do the same, focusing on the secondary activity instead. “Well.. he invited me over. That was a couple hours after our first spat, and I was still feeling weird about it all. Wasn’t well.”

“I figured. He reached out to you first?”

“Yeah. We weren’t supposed to do anything though, just.. get it out of our systems. I was so mad at him- I’m still so angry, and not even for any reason in particular. I’m just mad.”

“Then how’d you end up in his bed?”

“Oh. I kissed him. He was pissing me off.”

“Right.”

Grian scoffed, snagging his axe off the floor of the alley after a failed throw. “How did you think this all went down? He told you the jist, basically. Not nicely, but he told you.”

Cleo shrugged. “I just wanted to know a few more details. Place my judgment a bit more accurately. From where I’m standing, you’re both idiots self destructing in the dumbest way possible. I would like it very much if this didn’t happen again, not only because it’s bad for both of you, but quite frankly, it’s embarrassing.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“Come on.”

Grian curled his lip. “Listen, I don’t understand why it’s such a huge problem for Scar and I to work out our differences with a little violence. We're consenting adults and the sex was kinda nuts, so if we’re both having fun there’s no issue. In any case, I’m pretty sure this is solving all of our problems.”

“Oh? Do explain.”

Grian rolled his shoulders, throwing his axe and getting it to stick for the second time, “We’re just letting off steam, Cleo. Two months of awkward tension does a lot to a man, it does a lot, nothing good. This is like a shortcut to the whole ‘tiMe hEaLs aLL’ bullshit, we’re like- getting it out of our system.”

“Uh huh. And this is going to resolve your unrequited feelings for Scar how..?”

“I’m getting it out of my system, Cleo.”

“Ah, so having really good sex with a man who isn’t looking for the same things in a relationship as you is going to fix you.”

“You got it.”

“That’s the dumbest load of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” For the first time, Cleo’s axe bounced off the board. She strode to pick it up wordlessly.

“Alright.” Grian landed another axe, just inches from the bullseye.

“Grian,” Cleo sighed harshly, and Grian avoided her eye, uninterested in her scrutiny, “Listen. As dysfunctional as the both of you two are, I don’t actually believe this couldn’t work. You two have been as thick as thieves for ages, and as much as you’re scrapping now, I don’t think that’s indicative of how you actually feel about each other. You’re just hurt people hurting each other, and you don’t have to be. For goodness’s sake, Scar would have been happy to be in some sort of relationship with you, he just didn’t want to lose you altogether. Somewhere I think that got lost in translation.”

“Scar doesn’t want to date me. He only offered to appease me, it was as obvious as anything.”

“I don’t doubt there’s truth to that. He doesn’t do well under the pressure of a love confession, and that’s no one’s fault. But his feelings on romance are a lot more complicated than ‘wanting’ or ‘not wanting.’ You did the right thing to refuse him, Grian, he wasn’t ready. But I think it’s worth talking to him again. Laying everything out on the table. And I can’t speak for what Scar wants, his brain is a mess of tangled wires and sparks, but he’s obviously had plenty of time to think about this, and he might surprise you. If there’s one thing I do know about Scar, it’s that he loves to give things like this a try. And I mean that. He does love it.”

“But Scar won’t love me. Not like I want to love him.”

Cleo hummed, thoughtful as they considered the ceiling, “You know, I don’t know if that’s true.”

Grian huffed, “Unless I’m misunderstanding what ‘aromantic’ means, I don’t see what you mean.”

Cleo shrugged. “Scar loves everyone in big sweeping gestures. That doesn’t change from person to person, whether they’re family, close friends, lovers.. it doesn’t change. But there are still levels, right? There’s still loyalty. You’re thinking of Scar as loving you like a friend, but I think that’s the wrong approach. Making that distinction makes it seem like his love would be less intense, like he wouldn’t still give you everything he has. Try.. a scale, 1 through 10, maybe. For you, you’re looking to give Scar your 10 on the scale, right? A 9 or 10, whatever it is, that’s the kind of love you want to give, the kind of love you’re looking to receive. In Scar’s brain, he’s been giving you that 10 for months, and if you asked to spend the rest of your life with him, he’d probably go ahead and accept without hesitation. That’s just how he feels about the people he’s close with.”

Grian didn’t speak, still working out how to process those words, but Cleo did not mind continuing in his absence. “If you’re worried about not being #1, then I’m afraid you’re fighting a losing battle, friend. With anyone. You’re contending with mothers, brothers, sisters, friends that go back to high school, grade school, diapers. Being intimate doesn’t outweigh those bonds, not for most people. And this isn’t to say that a relationship with Scar would be exactly the same as it would be with anyone else, it won’t, and if you’re the type of guy that gets insecure when your partner is physically friendly with other people, then forget it, but in my truest of hearts, if you’re looking for someone to love, I believe Scar would be more than good for you. He would treat you well,” Cleo paused, thoughtful before continuing, “And honestly, things literally can not get any messier between you two. There are zero stakes to giving this a shot. You’ll either feel a lot better about yourselves or you’ll go your separate ways, both of which are a huge improvement to whatever the fuck is happening between you two now. Maybe you’ll even stay friends after talking all this shit out. Who knows.”

Grian returned his axe to the stump, needing to sit down. To think. He was quiet for a long time just sitting there, the only sound being the bustle of other customers and Cleo’s own axe hitting its mark time and time again.

“You really think he’d want to give it a shot?”

Cleo shrugged and shook her head noncommittally, “Who knows. But it wouldn’t surprise me. So long as you two actually talk this all out, I think anything could happen. And Christ, if you two decide to get together and still want to ‘fall down the stairs’ then have nasty sex afterward, that’s your prerogative, but for crissakes, at least wear some sort of padding or a helmet or something, don’t actually kill each other.”

Well. He had gotten Scar that helmet, hadn’t he.

“I’ll think about it,” Grian mumbled, eyes lidded. And he was. He was thinking quite hard about it.

[t4t4tclethian]

The moment Joel realizes he has a crush on xB is, objectively, quite a funny one. He’d almost certainly be laughing about it if it had been anyone else. As it is, though, he’s hopping mad, extremely indignant, and deeply embarrassed about the whole thing. Who ever heard of a hitman falling for their mark? (Well, a lot of people have- it’s a whole romance cliche for a reason. But it wasn’t supposed to actually happen!)

(ao3 link)

————————————————

It had all started a few days earlier, when Joel had been hanging out with the other Magical Mountaineers in the breakroom. Gem and Impulse were poring over some papers together, Skizz was on a phone call in the corner, Mumbo was politely watching as Scar fumbled through some magic tricks, and Grian was sitting on the couch with Joel, listening to him rant about his failures at killing xB (he’d drawn the short straw). Everything was normal.

And then, when Joel paused his tirade to take a breath, Grian said those fatal words. “From the way you talk about this guy, Joel, it’s almost like you’ve got a crush on the mark!”

Which was ridiculous, of course! He does blummin’ not, thank you! His relationship with xB was a perfectly platonic contract killing, and Joel is a professional! He knows better than to fall for his target, and he indignantly tells Grian as much.

But, of course, Grian is Grian, and the second he senses he’s touched a nerve he doubles down. And so he did.

“Contract killing? Give me a break, Joel! Your contract on this guy expired ages ago, and you’re not the type to work for free.” Grian’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued to needle at Joel. “Admit it, there’s something else going on here, isn’t there?”

Joel spluttered, and took a deep breath as he glanced around the room. Fuck. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen in on him and Grian now. He had to say something to throw them off or he would never be able to live this conversation down.

“My contract might be done, but unlike some people I finish the things I start, thank you very much!”

Grian squawked in indignation, and as he did so the others chuckled and turned back to their own conversations, unfounded accusations of romance forgotten. Grian’s tendency to leave things unfinished was well-known, and something that every assassin at Magic Mountain had teased him over many times.

But that thought refused to leave his brain. It had wiggled its way in like a worm. Did he have a crush on xB? Is that why he kept coming back when any sane person would’ve just given it up already? And the answer, of course, is no. All of Joel’s actions here have perfectly reasonable and professional explanations.

————————————————————

Joel waits patiently on the rooftop across from Horse Head Farmer’s Market (which, despite the name, is actually a grocery store/money laundering scheme, not a farmer’s market), rifle at the ready, just as he has been for the past three and a half hours. You can’t rush a good sniping, after all, and xB’s schedule varies enough that Joel’s never quite sure when he’ll head out for lunch. (He’s pretty sure xB has done this specifically to spite Joel- the guy’s obsessed with him.)

Yes! Finally! xB steps out of the store, starts walking down the street, and- turns to look at Joel’s rooftop, makes direct eye contact with him, and gives him a friendly little wave, the infuriatingly sincere kind that makes Joel want to kill him even more. Dammit. He’s been caught. Also, wow, even from here Joel is a little wowed by how blue xB’s eyes are. Or maybe he’s just remembering how they look, because there’s no way Joel can actually see his eyes from here. They are definitely a very nice blue, though, and oh, huh, Joel realizes that Lizzie has blue eyes, too. Maybe he’s got a thing for blue-eyed people, and- OH SHIT RIGHT HE’S KILLING THIS GUY.

Joel fires, because even if he’s been discovered a vantage point is still a vantage point. Of course, xB somehow manages to not be in the bullet’s path, just like he always does, and then he gives Joel a disapproving look, like he’s actually disappointed Joel didn’t do a better job at trying to kill him.

God, he’s so cute, Joel’s brain has the audacity to think, like it’s trying to add insult to insult to injury. To Joel’s horror, he realizes in this moment that he’s had dozens, maybe even hundreds of thoughts like this, that just slipped through the cracks and went unnoticed.

Then, xB smiles at him again before heading on his way, and Joel falls off of the rooftop. He has time to think, Oh, I’m gonna kill Grian, as he plummets towards the ground. And then, everything goes dark, and he dies.

[solargeist]

wait wait please elaborate the storyline for if he agreed to become a watcher, PLEASE!! I actually kinda want to dive into that idea.. i hadnt heard of the theory before, why did he agree? when did he? what was it like after? did he know anything about the watchers?

ok but doesnt this also kind of fit his personality more?

oh man, I'll try my best, its been awhile since i've watched Evo, and words are not my friends !

Grian knows about the Watchers, they were a common occurrence in Evo, the portals, the pranks, the traps, and the symbols were normal in his day-to-day.

He was their favourite even, gifting him a diamond, in a chest full of coal, a diamond in the rough, in their many eyes. I'm not sure if he knew this though.

I do think at his core, he has a Watcher's personality. He pranks people, he sets traps, he leaves symbols even of his own face, he makes secret bases under other's bases so he can watch them, he likes spying. They must've taken notice of this.

Its not actual lore, but Taurtis makes fun of Grian multiple times for talking to the Audience, which, fourth wall, is us! But I like the idea of it being story, its the Watchers, already leading him down this path from the beginning, hes so promising ! Taurtis calls them the voices in his head, Grian doesn't argue, "Are the voices in your head telling you that?" "Hm..... No, the voices don't even know, its a secret!" The voices, the audience, the watchers, all the same thing. Grian says he's meant to be the hero of the story.

Anyway, Grian meets the Watchers after the server all teams up and slays the dragon, they reach the End. He is 25 years old.

The portal leads him somewhere different than everyone else, everyone else goes home. He goes beyond the credits, who knows where it spawns him, but it doesn't matter, he's being offered a deal, a chance to ascend.... I don't know the exact reason he'd agree, but I'm leaning towards a selfish reason, he's gotten bored with his limitations, he wants to be better, do better, those updates.. They're enticing and he's envious, in the beginning he was punished for being greedy, but now he's being rewarded.

After ? I guess he just lives with the Watchers, in an End city somewhere ? Learning how to craft portals by hand, update ideas, watching players, pranks, traps, symbols, fun ! its fun ! hes having fun !

He starts growing wings ! Its not really fun anymore !! That was the one thing they didn't tell him about, not directly, he agreed to be a Watcher, he clicked his heels and said I wanna be a watcher, but he didn't understand it meant really becoming one physically, yknow, it could've been a title! a role he's meant to play !

I write two paths from this point. 1) He runs away from the Watchers and ends up in Hermitcraft, still with those brilliant white wings.

2) He just sticks with it, creature mode, he grows wings, it sucks, but things can be fun again, back to it, he grows talons, it hurts, but still, he spends his time digging through servers and player lists, he grows two more eyes and feathers peek through his skin. He's 25 years old, he likes pranks, and traps, and symbols. This is more the bad end friends version LOL that I use for fanart fun.

Thats, all the storyline ? That I draw ? Its nothing crazy, just a tinyyyy bit more than canon . My version, my theory, my boy !!

But at the end of the day, regardless, I do think the Watchers genuinely love him, maybe in the way you love a puppy and give them treats when they sit and be quiet, but they're extremely fond of him.

[mochiwrites]

I love your Scarian AU!

Could you please write abput some of your headcanons of how each hermit reacted to Grian and Scar being married?

(Doesn't have to be every single one of them, seeing as there are like 30 people lol but I'd be interested in the most funny reactions)

Also are you planning writing a Fanfic about it/ have you written something for it already? I would die to read it! :D

uhhh let’s see

- bdubs is the loudest about it. and the most “?!?!?!!!” because gestures mycelium resistance. the sexual tension between those two made him want to gag. he’s shaking scar around “you’ve been married for how long and didn’t tell me???? how could you not tell me?!” but like in that silly way y’know. he’s not actually upset about it

- I’m going back and forth on if mumbo has known the entire time or if he finds out when everyone else does. it would make sense if he knows, because he knew grian pre-hermitcraft. but it’d also be extremely funny if he didn’t know

- pearl gives grian the talk of his life because he didn’t tell her. and there was no invitation to the wedding. and then she also gives scar a shovel talk. because y’know. older sister rights and grian has been hurt enough

- I like the idea of impulse trying to sit the two of them down to shovel talk but he’s just so happy for them that he tries and fails

- cub and cleo are not at all surprised by this news. in fact, they had a feeling scar and grian were already together (though the marriage thing wasn’t what they expected)

those are the only ones coming to mind rn. as for if I’m planning on writing anything… I think I’d like to. god knows the scarian tag could use more fluff. but to be like 100% honest with you, I am. in a very bad mental state and writing feels extremely hard right now. so I think I’ll just be spinning ideas around without pressuring myself to write. if it happens naturally on its own, wonderful

at some point in the future though <3

[relgnira]

Uh week 2 of @shepscapades drawing challenge thing! Ive had this sketched for like a week and finally finished it haha

Its a Celeste au! Celeste is my favorite game ever if you havent played it please please please give it a shot its so good. These are just the first thoughts that came to me when I thought about this, so have my unrefined brain crystals ~

Transcribed the written text under the cut:

Part of Cleo (Joe)

• does actually have a “human” form but prefers to be a bird around people other than Cleo for the ~mystery~

• more helpful than Cleo

Old Woman (Cleo)

• elderly woman who lives on the mountain and seems to enjoy hasseling hikers

• very confidant in herself, once she sees how determined Grian is she helps him find his confidence

• they become good friends post mountain

Grian

• pretty much the same motives as Madeline

• heard about Celeste mountain from his best friend Jimmy

• can’t believe he’s actually doing this

Part of Grian

• extremely impulsive to the point of danger, but will begin an anxious spiral afterwords that causes the world to distort and eyes to open everywhere

• when accepted, he gives the triple jump ability with a flap of wings

Mumbo

• one of the civil engineers that worked on the now-forsaken city

• got unlucky and just died at his desk one day, but he hasn’t realized yet and keeps frantically trying to finish an already-abandoned city

• when he meets Grian, he thinks he is there to finally approve his designs and keeps trying to show him his models and plans

Scar

• claims to be climbing the mountain to get some painting inspo, but maybe he is trying to escape something as well…

• will show a fold-out wallet full of Jellie pics if prompted (or even if he isn’t)

[nyxmisfortune]

i'm not sure what the rules are for requesting (since i cant access the link!) but could you write sfw alphabet for grian (if u write for him)? pretty pls with a cherry on top :D

[also could i be 🌙🌊 anon if its free? pls and tyty]

Grian SFW Alphabet 🍄💐🍁

Paring-Grian x reader

Warnings-None

Summary-The SFW alphabet for Grian

Notes- WOO! It's the first Alphabet I've ever done, so I hope it's good. And Welcome to the blog 🌙🌊!!

Affection [How is affection with them?]

Grian is affectionate. He'll sit behind you while you cook with his arms around your waist, watching you like the curious bird he is. If you're sitting down, he'll happily lay in your lap and sprawl out with his wings extended as if he's trying to take up all the space he can. It gets mildly annoying sometimes, but Grian will move if you ask him.

Brick [How oblivious are they?]

Grian is anything but oblivious. When he catches on that you have a crush on him, this pesky bird is merciless. Comments that nearly make your heart stop wondering if he knows, and hands brushing against each other in a way that seems like an accident.

Cuddling [What is it like cuddling with them?]

As said in A, Grian is extremely cuddly and affectionate. He'll happily cuddle up to you anywhere. If you are sitting on the couch, expect him to be sitting next to you and leaning on you like you're a giant pillow. 

Down [How do they react when you aren't doing great?]

Grian is the first to notice. He might even notice before you do. You'll be wrapped up in blankets as soon as you enter his house, fluffy blankets and feathered wings making sure you're nice and cozy for the cuddling session about to happen.

Ending [How would they end things?]

Grian struggles with this part. He hates having to end things with anyone, especially with someone he loves so much. You would have had to do something really bad to have him break up with you. He’d do it face to face, he wouldn’t want to hurt you by just texting you. Grian would break if you started crying.

Feelings [How open are they with their feelings?]

Grian is open with his emotions to an extent. He’ll tell you when he’s happy or excited or sad, but it’s kind of up to you to guess if and when he’s burnt out or tired because sometimes even he doesn’t realize it.

Greetings [Do they have a special greeting for you? What is it?]

Grian is always so excited when you come home, and that is reflected in how he greets you. He’s all smiles and hugs as soon as you open the door. Other than that, you don’t have any sort of special greeting.

Hugs [How would it be to hug them?]

Oh, it would be so comfy. Hugs are very often with Grian as mentioned in A. His wigs are like giant feathery blankets and it feels nice and secure when he wraps them around you.

I love you [Who would say it first? Do they say it often?]

It would take Grian a while to say I love you. He really wants to be the first to say it but he can never find the right moment, and you just might say it first. After it’s said for the first time, he says it every night before bed. 

Jealous [Do they get jealous? Is it often?]

Grian doesn’t get super jealous. He’ll make jokes as if he is, but he’s pretty secure, and sure you aren’t going to leave him.

Kissing [How is it to kiss them?]

He doesn’t kiss you much actually. It’s usually just him being draped over you. He’ll kiss you sometimes of course during sweet and soft moments, or if you ask for a kiss but it isn’t his main form of affection.

Listen [Are they a good listener?]

He’ll do his best to listen to you, but sometimes he’ll zone out and forget what you were saying. That, or he’ll stare wide-eyed at you in a way that is… just a tad bit creepy

Mornings [What are Mornings like with them?]

Mornings are always soft. Waking up is always warm, with a nice mess of blankets and feathers surrounding you. Grian looks so handsome with the sun-dappled across his face as it streams in threw the window.

Nights [What are Nights like with them?]

Listen ok, sometimes Grian simply doesn’t sleep. He’s doing anything but sleeping [or building the back of his base]. But when he does sleep? You’re sleeping too. No arguments. He will lay on you if he has to.

Open [How open are they with you?]

He’s very open! He doesn’t hide anything from you, except for well… the Watchers. He doesn’t want you to be dragged into that.

Places [What are their favorite places to take you?]

Anywhere high up. Trees, Mountain tops, the top of his builds, just anywhere that isn’t flat ground. Is this because he’s a bird? Maybe. Maybe he just likes feeling the wind in his hair.

Quizzes [How much do they know about you?]

Grian remembers everything. If you tell him something, he’s sure to remember it, even if it is something small like your childhood cat's birthday. He’s even able to recall it with a nearly creepy accuracy and speed. 

Relax [How do they like to relax?]

Laying down with you is his favorite way to relax. If he’s upset, pull him over to the couch or a bench and let him rest his head on your chest and relax. Talk to him, he loves your voice.

Secretive [Do they keep your relationship private? Or public?]

He’s very public with the fact you two are dating. PDA is common, but it’s nothing super big. Grian just doesn’t see the point in hiding your relationship.

Talking [Are talks usually silly? or do they prefer deep talks?]

Most of the time, It’s silly! Talking to Grian is fun and there’s always a lot of giggling. But you two have deep talks sometimes as well. Usually at night.

Ukulele [Do they play any instruments?] 

I think he would play the Ukulele and the triangle. Why the triangle? It’s easy and he started playing it before learned to play the Ukelele because he felt a little left out with the rest of the hermits being able to play instruments.

Victory [What games do they play with you? Do they win?]

Board games! He loves playing board games with you. He keeps forgetting to get new board games so you both play Jenga a lot. He tends to win more often because of his architectural experience.

Walk [Do they like going on walks with you? Are they peaceful?]

Grian loves going on walks. It’s always nice to see all of the things the hermits build and to talk to your friends. Walks are usually pretty calm unless you two run across some weird hermit shenanigans. Grian can’t help himself from causing a little chaos sometimes.

Xtra [Extra headcanons for them]

Grian sometimes forgets that he can’t just build for days on end. You’ll have to remind him a lot that he needs to take a break, or even just go to bed. Bring him food while he’s working and he will love you forever.

Yoink [Do they steal your clothes?]

Oh absolutely. Very of the mind that once you start dating ‘That isn’t your clothing anymore, that's our clothing’. If your sweater is missing? Just ask Grian, he probably has it. 

Zen [Is the relationship Calm? Or Chaotic?]

Have you met this man? It is chaos. You were absolutely dragged into the many prank wars he’s started. Chaos is Grian’s middle name, and you two are utter menaces on April first.

[infizero]

its been said a thousand times before but god desertduo rlly were insane for the double life cheating plotline

[wulvbonez]

please do dump about your watcher au as much as you want!! I'd love to hear about it!!

YAYYYY THANKS FOR ASKING its autism time Basically um. You know how most the watcher!grian hcs/interpretations have him as an unwilling participant in all this ? Uh, yeah ! Not this grian:3 Well. Kinda. But. Im a TMA Fan and I love FUCKED UP guys so !!!! Watchers feed off emotions. All emotions, but they're especially known for finding fear or grief or other negative emotions the most nutritionally filling/benefital to their health. However: They can't just sit there around someone whos very happy, sad, angry, ect, and then get fed from that. They have to- uh, for lack of better word- latch onto a players "soul," and tear chunks of that from them, dig into their mind and bite into whatever makes them feel and then tear that away. Sometimes, a feeding will cause the victim to be unable to feel anything at all after the feeding, if a Watcher gorges themself solely on them. Most often, when they use restraint while feeding, the victim will loose all feelings they'd had about the previous days, weeks, or even months, and might feel like everythings "dulled down" for some time while they recover. (Younger Watchers usually have to have physical contact with the victim to feed, older or more powerful Watchers can feed without even being on the same plane of existence as their victim, only needing to be able to See them.) Now, that's all kind of similar to a lot of headcanons about Watchers already, and I pulled the "eating emotions" thing from Martyns Eyes & Ears AU (altho in that its JUST fear), but uh... Heres where it differs: The Watchers aren't sentient. Not really, anyway. They're...predators, beings that know they need to feed and will go to great lengths to do so, survival their greatest worry above all else. Think of them like... Smart animals. Corvids, for example, crows especially- they will investigate their own dead to figure out what killed the other bird so they can avoid it, and are extremely good puzzle solvers. Prairie dogs have an incredibly advanced verbal communication system- able to even denote the speed of which a predator is approaching their den (probably the closest we could get to an ""language"" in the animal kingdom). But neither of those animals, as smart as they may be, are considered sentient. Its the same with Watchers. Watchers CAN communicate, they can understand eachother, they can achieve a certain amount of planning, like how squirrels can count what nuts they have & deduce how many they need, or how whales and other marine life are especially prone to being able to plan & use logical reasoning... They can understand the concept of death and... the concept of keeping their food alive for delayed gratification and a continued food source, instead of just going out and feeding on someone until theyre a husk of themselves, unable to provide more food. How, exactly, they got all the players into the life series/how they made the games IS something im working on, but the point im getting at here is that theyre basically like ants farming aphids, except the aphids are sentient people..? yay..? Ah, and Watcher cant reproduce normally. They have incredibly long lifespans, but when a Watcher does come to its end, they... Well, theyll find an player to bite into the soul of, and instead of feeding, they basically do the reverse- shoving all their energy into that being and becoming a parasite that will eventually take over the host and make them a Watcher, similarly without much sentience. Thats what happens to Grian. :3 The exact process of turning is also in the works but basically it starts by becoming unable to eat regular food, slowly focusing all the players willpower into wanting to eat, before they develop the ability to feed from other players. At this stage they might still be able to feel themself, however after feeding from another you tend to loose your own emotions amongst the ones youre feeding off of, and at some point, any remaining emotions the "player" has, is consumed by them for extra nutrition, and in turn they officially become a Watcher.

UMMMM YEAH!!!! Thats all the worldbuilding I have :3333 Theres uh- a story in my mind, but its not as fleshed out? I also MIGHT make it a fic (heavy on the might) so idk how much i'd wanna spoil. But uh, yeah, Grian'll be a bit of a special case in that his turning takes... a lot longer than normal. ^_^ I put him in the torture world sorry

[frozenjokes]

Annoying, Smelly, Stupid, Loud Wolves, Of Which Joel Is Not Even A Little Bit Fond Of

Now, Joel didn’t really know what the fuck was going on, but all in all, he wasn’t too fussed. He had a nice little house, a nice view; a perfectly good place to be in the middle of a death game.

He didn’t have many allies or anything, but no enemies either- you could say he was a bit of a lone wolf, like a really cool mysterious loner type lone wolf, not a stupid loser wolf with no friends, an awesome, kickass type with big teeth or whatever- A cool guy. Cooler than you at least, though, it’s not harder to be cooler than you, especially when you’re Joel and you’re a lone wolf.

Speaking of wolves. They were loud.

Yesterday he had seen quite a few of them out and about, wandering, growling, pissing on things; dog stuff, you understand. But it only really hit how many of them there suddenly were at night when Joel was alone in bed in his house where no one else lived (perfectly secure, mind you), and they were just barking and yipping and howling and making a right mess of his backyard with their scratching and digging and, as established, pissing everywhere- it was a complete pain, and rolling out of bed to yell and wave his hands and throw a fit did nothing to deter them. Which. Probably fair. But a sleepless Joel was not a happy Joel, and you could hardly blame him. (You couldn’t blame him at all actually, like you would fare much better, okay, because you wouldn’t.)

Joel wasn’t quite sure what he meant to accomplish when he set out the next day, but his stride held some amount of purpose, and hopefully that’d be enough to show these wolves who’s boss. He could bark too, did you know? He could bite! He wouldn’t though, not a dog, that’s some freak shit, and also he didn’t want to die, but he could. If he wanted to. Which he didn’t.

And then, a distant whine.

Joel didn’t have a specific location in mind; he was just walking, and he hadn’t intended to follow the noise, persistent as it was, but he was closing the distance, perhaps his own curiosity being too much for his own good. And Joel wasn’t surprised it was coming from a wolf; of course it was, they were everywhere all of a sudden.

But he was surprised where the wolf had gotten itself stuck.

“For goodness’s sake.” A third ravine. This had to be a third one. Joel was just about sure a giant crack in the ground was not here before, solidly dividing his and Scott’s and Jimmy’s side of the flower biome- what the hell? He checked his communicator; didn’t seem like anyone had died from fall damage recently, so clearly this hole hadn’t opened up under someone’s feet like the desert ravine and the Crastle ravine. Now, Joel hadn’t seen the ravine in the desert (He did want to check in on Grian, but right now he wasn’t touching Scar with an eight foot pole), but he had seen the Crastle ravine, and this one looked just as deep and dark and ominously bottomless. Another whine cut through Joel’s thoughts. Oh no.

Cautiously, extremely cautiously, Joel poked his head over the edge, and sure enough, there was a wolf stuck on a small rocky outcrop, pawing uselessly at the steep edge and crying pitifully. It was pretty far down- blooming hell, how did it get down there. Goodness, the poor thing. It looked up, large, black eyes round and pitiful and-

“Alright, alright, I’m coming, you just sit tight. Sit.” The wolf did not sit, nor did Joel expect it to, but it did seem to understand something was happening when Joel started a careful bridge downwards. He didn’t have that many blocks; one by one stairs would have to be enough if he didn’t want to leave the pup hanging, but he managed, the wolf growing more restless as Joel inched closer and closer.

Eventually, he got close enough to touch the poor thing. There was no way Joel was going to let it walk up his precarious bridge on its own, but luckily, the wolf must have been so relieved to be helped, it didn’t even whine as Joel scooped it up, only wiggling gently in his arms. Fine. That was fine. Everything was fine actually, Joel taking his time to carefully turn around before he heard another whine, and then a bark, and hey- was that growling? He looked down. What could have been a hundred more pairs of eyes stared back up at him.

“Oh, for goodness’s sake!”

…

Joel didn’t even know how many dogs he rescued from the ravine before he fell. It was almost inevitable really, falling, especially building precarious bridges all over the damn place to carry out stupid ass wolves who were apparently breeding like rabbits at the bottom of a ravine with zero food. Why the hell were they even spawning down there in the first place? They just have fallen, right? Nevertheless. Despite being resigned to the fact that he was most certainly going to fall and die while rescuing idiot dogs from starving or whatever, Joel was quite miffed about how he fell.

He hadn’t even been bridging or not looking where he was going- he hadn’t even been carrying a dog, and thank goodness for that. He had been standing on a perfectly stable platform, a wide platform, a natural outcrop he’d walked over a thousand times before it just- collapsed. Just like that. And he was about 90% sure it wasn’t made of gravel or sand or anything either, but he had a lot of time to doubt himself as he fell. Why was he falling for so long anyway? And why was it so cold?

And then he was suffocating. Oh.

Smallishbeans fell out of the world.

Joel jolted bolt upright in bed as he gasped for air, clutching at his chest. It had been a while since his last void death and they were never pleasant- always leaving that lingering feeling of cold and terror for hours afterward unlike most any other death in the game.

Hey, wait, how had he managed to fall out of the world..? Jimmy had done it once as well, hadn’t he? Ugh, this stupid server was so broken!

(Hopefully Grian would be in the state to fix it soon, but Joel wasn’t too keen on thinking too much about what was looking like this server literally collapsing in on itself.)

Joel had died once before this and was red now, but felt no different, and honestly didn’t really care all that much; his dogs were still at the ravine, they were waiting for him, and surely they’d seen him fall? He wouldn’t have that.

But as he left the front door of his home, Joel was quite literally nose to nose with Ren and Martyn, who looked just as shocked as he must have, Ren’s fist raised to knock.

“Greetings, scum!” Ren greeted brightly, and Martyn crossed his arms behind him, sort of stoic looking, or at least that’s what Joel was pretty sure he was going for.

“Uh, hey guys, I’m actually kind of busy right now, could you come back la-“

“Silence in the presence of your king, The Red King Of Dogwarts!” Martyn bellowed, then looked to Ren, almost shyly, “Was that good?”

“Perfect, my dude! Yes, yes, we are here today to request kindly your loyalty to The Red King!” Ren put all sorts of unnecessary flourish on his words, rolling his ‘r’s whenever he got the chance. Honestly, kind of a lot to face after suffocating in the void.

“Okay.” Joel sighed, hoping if he played along this would wrap up quickly, “You have my loyalty. There you go.”

“Oh!” Ren looked so genuinely delighted, even the accent dropped, and Joel had to roll his eyes with an exaggerated scowl to keep himself from smiling, “That’s great! We do need tribute, though.”

“What tribute?”

“Oh, like how when people living in a kingdom pay tribute to the castle in return for its protection! Like-“

“I know what it means, Ren, what do you want?” Joel had to cut him off; Ren’s excitement (presumably at how well this was going) was getting to the point of being too much to bear.

“Well, fine sir- my, I must say, you are looking quite handsome today! Very handsome, very strong.”

“I am handsome and strong, yes, continue please.”

“Well, Dogwarts requires you hang upon your lovely home the red banner that signifies your loyalty to the crown! Placed where the whole serrrver can see it!” Ren puffed out his chest to the point of ridiculousness, producing a banner from his inventory to present to Joel, though his valiant attempt at being intimidating(?) was bogged down a tad by his shining eyes. “And also that you come to fight by our side when we call upon the banner, for it signifies our mutual commitment to the land of Dogwarts! We, of course, will be ready to jump to your defense, should you so require.”

Joel took the banner from Ren’s hands, only giving it a moment’s glance before hanging it above his front door. “There. That good?”

“Brrrilliant!” Ren whooped, hopping on his toes, “What do you think, Martyn?”

“It’s perfect, mi’lord!”

“Perfect! Yes, I agree. Welcome to the family, Joel of Smallish Beans! Trust me that you will not regret this decision!” Ren beamed, and before Joel could even ask if they were finished, the two of them turned around, galloping off on fake horses without so much as a goodbye. Well. Guess that would do. Joel gathered his things, and made his way back toward the ravine.

He couldn’t go down there again, that was for sure; he wasn’t about to get knocked out of the game for a few more dumb dogs, but at this point, Joel was pretty sure he had left behind enough scaffolding that any more unfortunate wolves could finagle their way back to the surface if they were determined enough. That would have to be fine. He definitely wouldn’t be thinking about it after this. Not at all.

Joel was pleasantly surprised to see how many wolves were still lingering where he had left them, and then a little annoyed- seriously, standing so close to the ravine must have been how they all fell down there in the first place! Though, that feeling dissipated when the wolves spotted him, their tails wagging gently in a gesture that was quite adorable when multiplied by so many dogs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d be happy to see me too, just came to let you all know I wasn’t dead or anything. I was a little bit dead. But I’m back. So. Good talk.”

The wolves definitely weren’t tame; most of them kept their distance, and the few that trotted forward took great care in not getting too close. A great improvement from being growled at in the woods though, seriously, Joel was starting to feel like one wrong move would end with him getting torn apart. Hopefully these ravine wolves would tell the surface wolves he wasn’t a bad guy.

Joel stopped, pausing for the first time to really look at the gathered dogs. There were.. a lot of them. It looked almost ridiculous to see dozens and dozens of them gathered together like this; Joel was sure he’d hadn’t rescued this many, but he couldn’t exactly be sure, either. Goodness. He had really been doing this for a while.

Well! A day well spent. Now that the wolves knew he hadn’t died tragically saving their sorry lives, he could turn right around and head home with a clear conscience, and maybe even do something productive. And that he did, starting his journey home with a few long strides on his very long legs before- thump thump thump. A soft sound, almost like an echo of his own footsteps in the grass, only multiplied by about a hundred times.

Joel turned around. The wolves stared back, unmoving. “Oi,” he said. A couple of them cocked their heads. Whatever. He kept going.

Thump thump thump thump thump.

“Oi!” Joel whirled around, and most of the dogs had to stumble over their paws to stop in his stride, yipping and growling as they stepped on each others’ toes and tails. “This is not happening. I do not have room for all of you. More importantly, you'll be in my way. I’ll have dog shit on my shoes for the rest of my life. No.”

The dogs stared back.

(This was, in fact, happening. Joel wouldn’t let them in the house, though.)

It was safe to say Joel wasn’t in a fantastic mood as he neared his home. He hadn’t gotten anything productive done, he died being stupid, he had about a hundred new dogs he did not want- listen, he could be praised as a hero among hounds if they insisted on worshiping him. Joel wouldn’t fight such a title! But he was not in the position to be responsible for anyone right now, including but not limited to a shit load of dogs. And Joel was tired too; hauling good boys out from big ravines and then dying in the void would wipe anyone out! Which is exactly why his heart sank as he heard voices arguing outside his house.

“So we can’t talk to anyone now? Is that it? Anyone with your rOyAl rEd bAnnErs is off limits? I bet Joel doesn’t even like your banner, it’s ugly and it smells. Is that a stain?” That was Scar’s voice, which honestly, was a massive surprise. Joel could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen him over the course of the game- would Grian be here too?

“Do not speak ill of the Dogwarts banner, scum!” Martyn bellowed- were they still doing that accent, seriously? “They are not ugly, nor do they smell! Weaved by my very hands just this morning they were!”

“Oh so that’s why they stink.”

Pause.

“Guess I walked into that one,” Martyn mumbled, decidedly out of character.

“Silence, heathen!” and there was Ren, just as loud as his partner in crime, “You shalt not crosseth these lands, for they are protected under the Red King! Me! If you do not want your head to be SLICED from your shoulders, I suggest unkindly that you leave this place AT ONCE.”

“You see, I just don’t believe that you’re..” Scar trailed off as Joel entered the clearing, his mouth hanging slightly at the army of dogs at Joel’s heels. “Wolves here too, huh?”

Grian was right beside him, uncharacteristically silent as he always was lately; maybe he was dizzy or had a headache or any other number of symptoms from his supposed ‘concussion.’ He wasn’t smiling either, when anyone that remotely knew him would know he should be, especially in the middle of the dramatic sequence like this. Or maybe he wouldn’t be smiling, but trying to pull Scar away instead, insisting they avoid this confrontation while making everything worse with not-so-subtle jabs. He would be doing something. He would be feeling something.

“Don’t talk to me about wolves,” Joel grumbled, turning around so that they all froze in place, then turning again to keep walking, followed by the thumping of clumsy paws.

“Joel!” Ren cut in, sounding quite pleased with himself, “You should know that your alliance to the Red Crown is already paying off! We were just about to chase these scoundrels off your land, though, with a battalion like that, I don’t expect them to bother you anymore.”

“We were not bothering anyone! Joel, I only wanted to know which hole you fell into. You didn’t say in the chat or anything, and you weren’t answering your messages..” Scar looked almost guilty, but that was probably just because he was the king of ignoring messages on this server, maybe only second behind Grian. (But Grian was sick.. It wasn’t his fault.)

“New hole. Between mine and Jimmy and Scott’s bases.”

Ren and Martyn exchanged a shocked glance, though Scar didn’t look very surprised at all; a little concerned, maybe, but not surprised, and any trace of worry vanished when Scar threw Martyn a sly glance, Martyn fuming in return. Well, Joel didn’t really care what was going on between them, so he didn’t interrupt their silent argument, going instead to Grian.

Joel had to get frighteningly close before Grian even looked up, not even acknowledging him with anything other than a glance.

“Hey, Grian. You okay? How’re you holding up?”

“I’m alright.”

Joel paused, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t. “Well, I’d let you pet my new wolves if they’d let me touch them. We’re working on it. You’d think after hauling them out of the ravine one by one they wouldn’t be so fussed, but they don’t seem to like it when I get too close. That’s how I fell in, actually, funny story. It was a very heroic thing I’ll tell you, a piece of falling rubble frightened one of the dogs in my arms when we were so close to the top. I lost my balance, but in my last moments I threw the wolf as hard as I could the rest of the way to the top, and it almost didn’t make it, scrabbling with its little paws against the dirt, but the last thing I saw before I died was the same dog, having turned around to give me a salute before I hit the gr- well, before I died.”

Grian stared, clearly listening, but taking a while to process, and Joel couldn’t remember the last time he’d anticipated someone speaking so much. “I don’t want to pet the wolves.”

“Well! That’s all I came by to ask, so we’ll be leaving now, just like you two,” Scar gestured vaguely to Ren and Martyn, his grin unwavering, “wanted so badly! Congratulations on chasing us heathens off your land! Goodbyyyyye!” Scar waved as he turned, and Grian copied the gesture like nothing was wrong with him at all, speaking without turning around.

“Bye, Joel.”

Joel gaped. Ren and Martyn didn’t look nearly as surprised, instead a more tired expression painted across their faces, and Joel started to wonder just how much they’d had to deal with. Maybe he had picked the right side, even if this was just a game. Even if they were all just.. playing around.

“Well, we must be going as well,” Ren sighed, only a hint of his frankenstein accent remaining, “Many places to see before dark. Much to do.”

“Yes!” Martyn was clearly making an effort to lighten the mood, nudging Ren softly, “We must paint this land red. First with literal paint- our banners, you know, AND THEN WITH BLOOD!”

“Aye!” Ren cheered.

“Aye aye!” Martyn cheered right back, leading the way down the slope in the opposite direction Scar and Grian were headed, chin held high. Ren trotted after him with a smile, both of them completely forgetting to say goodbye. Well. That was fine. All Joel wanted to do right now was lay down. The wolves were still keeping their distance, but Joel made sure to slide carefully through the front door anyway, just in case anyone decided they wanted to force their way inside. Fine. This was fine. The dogs were fine, Grian was fine, and the server was most definitely fine; nothing to worry about.

…

Joel had no reason to think the wolves would be quieter tonight. There was no reason they would be, though Joel had held the small hope they would do him a favor and shut their snouts in return for his saving their lives.

Would you believe that was not the case? Joel would. Joel would believe it, laying in bed, wide awake and very irritated about it. But it wasn’t just the howling and yipping and biting and scuffling and running around like freaks; tonight they were scratching at his door. It was an awful noise, hardest to ignore, especially when a wolf would occasionally decide running face first into the door was a solid plan. The first time Joel had gotten up, he saw at least five just waiting out there, staring at him, but he had closed the door in their faces when they had tried to come in. No way! No. way.

The second time he got up, he let the gathered wolves in. There were less this time, only three, and if that was going to stop the scratching then letting them in was a sacrifice Joel was willing to make.

It did not stop the scratching.

It felt like Joel had gotten up at least ten times before there were thirty wolves in his home, sniffing and grumbling and being complete nuisances, but after that, after his house was packed to the brim with smelly dogs, the scratching finally stopped.

And then a wolf climbed into his bed. No. No. Joel kicked it off, probably with the added flourish of several expletives, but the dog growled back, something low and unhappy. A reminder that it was a wolf, huge, and could absolutely eat his face if it wanted.

Okay.

One dog.

…

Two dogs.

…

At three dogs, Joel could not fit in his own bed anymore. Fine. So he got up and made a bed. Two beds actually! You could say his foresight was impeccable. (It was not enough beds.)

By the time Joel had made five beds, he tried separating them from his own, but, predictably, this ended up with ten wolves attempting to pile into his bed at once and more than one future bruise via sharp elbows and uncoordinated paws, so finally Joel just gave in, pushing all five beds plus his own together so he could just be done.

…

Did you know dogs snore? Some dogs snore. Some bark in their sleep. Some kick. Some punch you in the face for no reason. Did you know? Joel knew.

Well. This was his life now. Guess that life would no longer have sleep in it.

Though, he certainly wasn’t alone anymore.

Maybe.. maybe this was alright.

…

Another night of zero sleep, and Joel would like to formally amend his previous statement. IT WAS NOT ALRIGHT. ARGRHAGGRGGAGHGAH

***

this is a one shot that is part of an ongoing series, most of which isn’t posted on tumblr. If you would like to know what the hell is going on with… everyone (+ the server), you can find it here!

[falconearring]

goood day! hope you're doing splendid

if you have the time, would you mind explaining a bit of the lore of your au so far? I'm very interesting in lot of mechanics of aus, and apart from whatever bits you've dropped about the gang and what they're upto, is there any specifics you'd like to add on as a note? this isn't about spoilers, and if doing so might reveal some then it's completely understandable!

I'm really interested in how your story progresses and if not the above, id love to hear what you think so far about it and what you think of the thoughts of people, like their interpretations if have any! thank you for taking the time for this and its completely fine if you don't want to answer

apologies if I came off as rude or too assuming, and for the rather long ask ahah

thank you again! have a great day or night ahead! take care

Hey thank you so much for dropping this in my inbox!! You taking interest warms my heart!

I'm gonna use this ask as a means to drop these headshots and notes. Below is every person who currently resides at the repurposed logging yard. They call themselves the Hermits. All of these people will appear at least once in the comic, and I'm going to do my best to include these little bits of info within the actual story too!

Other members of traffic/life smp will also appear, they just aren't associated with the group established here. So Scott, Lizzie, Jimmy, Martyn, Bigb, Scar and Grian are going to make an appearance later.

As for the setting, we're 2 years into the apocalypse at this point. There are safe guarded cities, but these places are far away from where the story is taking place. The Hermits have pretty much been living their lives completely isolated from other people as a means of keeping safe.

Weather in this universe can be a bit extreme, as the world faces an imminent climate crisis a few years before the zombies start appearing inexplicably. Space stations were in the midst of being established before the apocalypse, with hopes that humanity could reestablish itself in outer space. When it hit, much of the remaining human race was evacuated from the planet as a last ditch effort. The status of the shuttles that were sent up is unknown. The stations being set up really weren't ready to be inhabited so soon, so its kind of iffy whether or not things are going much better up there.

Early into the apocalypse, helicopters would fly overhead looking for survivors and escort them back to safe zones and launch sites. This stopped not long after though, and whether or not they're going to start looking for survivors again is unknown.

As for the zombies themselves, the 'science' behind them is beyond anyone's understanding. Upon being bitten, the body instantaneously progresses through the stages of decomposition and takes on a sickly kind of bruised look. As far as any one can tell, there is no brain activity beyond this point, but the bodies still move inexplicably. Kind of a night of the living dead situation. Important to note that much like a human, if the heart or brain is destroyed they will die, despite not having a functioning nervous or circulatory system. I'm taking a distinctly supernatural approach to them because I just think it's cool.

I have no clue what year this is set in, but the Hermits are residing in the wilderness somewhere in Canada. I'll touch on pretty much all the above within the comic as well, but I thought there was no harm in sharing anyhow because you asked so nicely!

As for the second half, people have said a couple interesting things. Sadly I can't comment on a lot of it because it dips into spoilers! Somebody said they find it funny that Bdubs is probably freaking out while Etho is just chilling and that's absolutely spot on and made me laugh.

Thanks for such a detailed ask, anon! And thanks for your patience, I had to think about what I wanted to say ^_^ Hopefully this is what you were looking for, hope you have a fantastic day!

[sleepless-in-southlands]

The House Always Wins (With You, I Never Lose)

Ao3

Summary: A look into both the pasts and presents of Grian, Mumbo, and Scar. Content: AU- Mob Bosses, violence, homoromanticism; betrayal, (neck) injury, trust issues, bad ways of addressing trust issues, threats, tension like you wouldn't believe, obligatory characters not CCs Pairings: Romantic scar/mumbo, fruity as FUCK grumbo + scarian they just refuse to say it Notes: Part four of the Bloody Fruits au, chapter three (scar) of The House Always Wins (chap1 grian - chap2 mumbo)

~

Past

“I think a toast is in order, wouldn’t you say, Scar? To the coming glory of the Glass Empire!”

Scar had a few choice words to say about that supposed glory, and if it weren’t for the fact he was nearly choking himself trying to keep his carotid from bleeding him dry, he might have made them known. Although he had a funny feeling his extremely fired right-hand could guess most of them.

In theory, the night should have been a celebration. The Empire had recently made a few well-placed territory expanses and suffered minimal blowback from the other organizations in town for them, their ranks had grown, their various fronts had been making more money- all good news! The perfect reason for Scar to settle down with his closest confidant for a night of light bookwork and congratulatory chatter.

And then Dolos had lunged at him with a knife, and the whole evening went downhill faster than a rollercoaster.

“Nothing to say, hm?” Dolos asked mockingly, overexaggerating a frown at Scar’s silence. “You’re usually so talkative.”

Even if he could speak right then, Scar wasn’t feeling very chatty anymore. Not verbally, anyways. But if Dolos were to just lend him his knife for a moment, Scar was sure he would be able to communicate a few points well enough.

A gun would have been helpful, but he had made the (in hindsight) poor decision to take off his holster, leaving it and its weapon hanging over the back of his chair. The only plus to this choice was the fact that Dolos had followed his lead, leaving both of them without a firearm. Technically Dolos could retrieve one if he so desired, but that would require him turning his back on Scar, and he wasn’t quite stupid enough to do that.

But he still had the knife, dripping crimson from where it had made a good mess of most of Scar’s upper half before hitting its favourite mark in his neck, and that meant Dolos still had the advantage.

“I know you might not want to see it my way, but you can understand how this is for the best, can’t you?” Dolos was steadily approaching where Scar had backed himself into a wall, unhurried. “I mean, really! Not seeing this coming? What sort of boss doesn’t even notice when their right-hand starts aiming for them?”

Scar gritted his teeth. So Dolos had been a blindspot. Isn’t that the point of a right-hand man? To take care of the threats that get too close? Excuse Scar for trusting him to do his job!

(A voice that matched Dolos’s in the back of Scar’s mind refused to do so. A mob boss, trusting someone? Had he really expected that to end any other way? He truly was unfit for his title.)

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter now.” Dolos continued, ignoring Scar’s internal debates. He paused in his advance, close enough that he could nick Scar’s chin if he fully extended his arm. “Seeing as how I’ll be relieving you of your position posthaste.”

Scar dug his fingers into his neck, as if trying to meld his palm to the wound. He wanted to snap something about over my dead body, but given that seemed to be the plan, he doubted it would have much impact.

Dolos took another step closer, twirling the blade he was about to put through Scar’s chest between his fingers like it was a dinnerware utensil. “Any final words? Or would you prefer to go with some dignity, for once?”

The thought of spitting one last curse at Dolos, however effective, was a tempting one. It would be the last thing Scar ever said, yes, but his time was already up on that front. Might as well go out with a bang.

Before Scar could settle on something even slightly clever to say, however, both he and Dolos were startled by the sound of the office door opening.

“Hey, sorry to bother you two during the celebration, but there’s-” Bdubs looked up from the paper in his hand as he entered the room, sentence dying as he took in the scene before him. Within the half second it took him to process it, the paper was discarded, Bdubs’s gun drawn before it was even halfway to the ground. He aimed it at a midpoint between Scar and Dolos, gaze flickering between the two men. “What exactly is going on here?”

Dolos recovered from his shock at the interruption too fast for Scar’s liking. “Exactly what it looks like, I should imagine.”

Bbuds’s grip tightened on his gun, adjusting his aim to point more towards Dolos. “It looks like you’re trying to kill my boss. Which isn’t going to end well for you, I should imagine.”

It was with satisfaction that Scar noted the sarcasm in Bdubs’s tone as he echoed Dolos’s words back at him. If Bdubs was on his side, he had a chance. But only if Bdubs silenced Dolos before he started talking again. If Dolos was able to convince Bdubs to help him-

“Now, now, there’s no need to be so hasty. Think about this for a moment.” Dolos’s voice was charming, his words casual despite the situation. Scar slumped against the wall he was pressed to. “This Empire needs fresh blood. The boss always has to step down at some point to make way for the future. I’m just bringing the future on a little faster.”

“And if I’m happy with the present?”

“You’re not thinking of the big picture. Once I replace Scar here, I’m going to need my own right-hand. And you, Bdubs… well, I think you could be just the guy for the job.” Dolos explained, smirking like he had already won. “All that stands between you and that position is one Scar Chronos.”

Bdubs glanced over at Scar as Dolos finished his proposition, face unreadable. Not for the first time since Dolos had begun slashing at him, but possibly for the last, Scar wished he could speak. To make his case to Bdubs, make his own offers, whatever it would take to keep the only active gun in the room on his side.

But he couldn’t, the risk of worsening his injuries past the point of recovery too great to take. So long as Scar couldn’t speak, Dolos had every advantage, including Bdubs.

Scar closed his eyes, accepting his fate and bracing himself. Maybe if he was very, very lucky, Bdubs would suddenly become a terrible shot, and he’d have a chance to viciously fling himself at Dolos one last time and try to claw out one of his eyes or give him blood poisoning. If those were his last moments, Scar could die at least somewhat content.

He flinched when Bdubs’s gun fired, less from the sound and more in expectation of the usual pain that came with a bullet wound.

…None did.

Confused, Scar slowly opened his eyes, wondering if his last minute wish had come true and Bdubs had somehow missed. His gun was lowered, his stance slightly more relaxed than it had been, suggesting he had indeed fired. But his angle was all wrong if he had been aiming at Scar, his line of sight focused on the floor across from the boss. Scar followed his gaze.

Dolos was splayed on the ground, expression still smug despite the fact that his skull was shattered and his brain was splattered across the office’s cheap tile. The knife he had been advancing on Scar with was still in his hand, but his grip on it was loose, if the slight curling of a dead man’s fingers could be considered a grip at all.

“Oh.” The sound slipped past Scar’s lips, weak and gargled, as he realized what had happened. Bdubs hadn’t sided with Dolos. He hadn’t shot Scar.

Not that it mattered, Scar considered as his legs gave out on him and he slid down the wall, given he was still going to die. At least Dolos was dead too. 

Bdubs was at his side in a moment, Scar having missed the point where he re-holstered his gun and pulled out his phone. He was speaking to whoever he was calling, not Scar, which was likely a good thing given Scar wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying. It sounded like orders.

Distracted by trying to figure out what Bdubs was saying, Scar didn’t notice Bdubs’s free hand reaching out until it was on Scar’s neck. Instinctively, Scar tried to pull back and out of Bdubs’s reach, but his employee just followed the motion through the few inches Scar managed to move. It took Scar a moment to realize that all he was doing was putting pressure on the wound Scar himself was covering, not trying to strangle Scar or cause more damage. 

“-ar? Scar?”

And in that moment, apparently, Bdubs had once again changed, phone put away and full attention directed towards Scar. He was frowning, concerned. “Scar? You with me?”

Scar managed what was less of a nod and more him bumping his head into the wall behind him.

“Alright. Try to stay conscious if you can, okay? I’ve called some of our people. Only the ones we can trust, who have the least connection to… your former business partner.” Bdubs's tone was professional and collected despite the situation, only dipping into disdain at the mention of Dolos. “I suspect the Empire may have to perform some spring cleaning after this, but that will have to wait.”

Everything Bdubs was saying made sense. Mob bosses weren't overthrown without backup, and Scar needed help, not a knife in his back. Any co-conspirators would have to be found and dealt with accordingly, but not while Scar was half-alive and weak, which was why Bdubs was focusing on deciding who could still be trusted rather than who had to go- although Scar wouldn’t be surprised if he learned Bdubs was also starting that list in the back of his mind.

What didn’t make sense was the fact that Scar was still alive for any of it to matter. The cut across his throat might not be fatal, but the person currently helping him hold it shut should have been.

After all, if Dolos would betray Scar, why wouldn’t Bdubs? Forget being a right-hand, Bdubs could take over the Glass Empire all by himself as long as he played his cards right, and Scar knew that Bdubs knew enough about their business to do so. Once again, all that stood between Bdubs and an entire kingdom to himself was Scar, and Bdubs was smart enough to know that too.

Which made it rather odd that Scar wasn’t yet dead. Bdubs wasn’t usually this bad at killing people. He took care of Dolos without any issue.

“Something you want to say, Scar?” Bdubs said his name with an unusual stress on the ‘s’ sound, the remnant of how he used to call him ‘sir’ until Scar had personally requested he just call him by his name, twice. He was looking quizzically at Scar, and it took Scar a moment to realize that he was returning Scar’s own pensive look, having got so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed himself staring. “You look… troubled.”

Scar made a vague gesture with the hand that had been holding his neck together before Bdubs took over.

“I guess you can’t really say anything, huh?” Bdubs caught on. “Well, we’ve got time, and I need to keep you awake. Is it a concern about any of your injuries?”

Scar shook his head.

“Concern about how trustworthy the people I’ve called are?”

Another shake.

“Did you see Dolos’s hand twitch and think he might get back up? I can shoot him again if you want.”

Scar managed a small smile at the lightness to Bdubs’s voice before once again shaking his head.

“It can’t be anything too pressing then, which is good.” Bdubs shifted slightly, settling himself more comfortably without taking any pressure off of Scar’s injury. “Is it about Dolos? His betrayal, what it means for your empire?”

Scar shook his head after a pause. Dolos had started this whole mess, but he was no longer the focus of it.

Bdubs paused as well, taking a moment to think before he asked his next question. “Is it about me?”

A slow nod.

“Is it about how I could kill you, right now, and have the Glass Empire to myself? And you’re not sure why I haven’t yet?”

Scar didn’t move his head, as if it was a trick question and the moment that he confirmed his doubts Bdubs would turn on him and do exactly what he had described. But his lack of answer was just as damning as a yes, Bdubs nodding to himself in lieu of Scar’s, and Scar braced himself as best he could for whatever Bdubs would do next.

“The main reason is that I don’t want the Glass Empire.”

Of all the things Scar was expecting Bdubs to say, the idea that he wouldn’t want to take over as boss of one of Heremita’s main mobs was low on the list, if it was even on there at all. For the average person, sure, it was a perfectly acceptable response. For someone like Scar and Bdubs? Not so much.

“I don’t want to be one of the bosses in general.” Bdubs went on, what Scar assumed to be a clarifying statement only confusing him more. “And if I did, I’d start my own organization to run, not backstab my way into the position.”

Given their line of business, and given the slowly-cooling corpse sitting five feet from the two of them, the sentiment of wanting to make an honest dishonest living was oddly admirable to Scar. Foolish, perhaps, but it hadn’t seemed to have gotten Bdubs killed yet.

“Doesn’t mean I want to be a lackey forever. I do have slightly higher aspirations than cannon fodder, even if I don’t want to be boss. I think I could make a good right-hand.” Bdubs’s voice got tight, and he spared a surprisingly venomous look back at the remains of Dolos. “But not his.”

Scar let his head rest on the wall, the effort of keeping it supported on its own starting to become a strain. Part of him wanted to make a joke about what elevated Scar over Dolos- his charisma? his good looks? the fact that his name was objectively cooler? Part of him was starting to wonder just how much blood he had lost.

He settled for the middle ground of not thinking about it and instead fixing Bdubs with as puzzled of an expression as he could manage, hoping it would be enough to prompt the rest of the explanation from him.

It worked, Bdubs noticing his look as soon as he had turned back towards Scar. “Let me guess: ‘what’s so wrong with my traitorous deceased right-hand?’ I didn’t think I’d need to explain that one to you, Scar, given the situation.”

Scar lightly tapped his own chest, doing his best to indicate yeah, that’s why I don’t like him. Why do you care so much that he tried to kill me?

As if Bdubs could hear Scar’s unvoiced question, he shrugged. “If he’s willing to betray his boss as a right-hand, what would stop him from betraying his right-hand as a boss? I have better odds running errands in enemy territory than standing at his side.”

Mentally, Scar conceded to Bdubs’s logic. A traitor didn’t just make for a bad subordinate.

“Besides, it’s one thing for a lackey to try and go after a higher up. But a betrayal between a boss and their right-hand man?” The casual tone Bdubs had carried for most of the one-sided conversation dropped suddenly, voice hard. “Dolos deserved worse than a bullet to the head.”

Scar raised an eyebrow but didn’t try to push Bdubs to say anything else. He could tell it was personal. He didn’t need to pry.

The sound of cars coming to a fast stop in front of the building seemed to snap Bdubs out of his thoughts. He put his free hand on his holstered gun, seemingly more as a precaution than a necessity.

“That should be our people.” Bdubs informed him, giving Scar a quick once-over as if to remind himself of his condition. “We’ll make sure you get through this, and hold down fort until you can take back over. And I’ll make it clear as glass that anyone who wants to take advantage of the situation can join Dolos in whichever empty lot or dirty harbor he gets dumped in.”

Scar managed a slight nod before the office door was opening, people Scar could recognize as some of the Empire’s filing in and Bdubs launching into directing them about. The sudden uptick in activity and noise was too much for Scar to focus on, and he let the ruckus wash over him as Bdubs handled it. Despite the blow his trust had just taken, Bdubs’s conviction against Dolos and inexplicable lack of desire to be a boss seemed sturdy enough for him to rely on.

Plus, assuming he truly did survive the next few days, he’d be the one needing to replace his former close confidant. And Bdubs had said he’d make a good right-hand man. Scar could consider this his test run.

And even though he had no reason to, Scar had a good feeling about how Bdubs would do.

Present

“Mumbo, dear, as much as I appreciate the thought, I really don’t need you to have your waiter tortured and killed for me.”

Mumbo, who, unfairly, seemed more upset about the situation than Scar was, frowned. “It won’t be any trouble.”

“I know it won’t be, but that doesn’t mean it’s necessary.” Scar leaned back on Mumbo’s desk, one hand braced against the wood. His cane rested beside him. “Accidents happen! Not every injury is the result of an attempted murder.”

“Maybe accidents would happen less if those who caused them were… made an example of.”

“They tripped, Mumbo, that can happen to anyone.”

Mumbo crossed his arms, seemingly unwilling to let Scar’s lighthearted mood get to him. “You’re hurt.”

Scar bit back a joke about how he hadn’t forgotten that. He could tell from Mumbo’s tone, and the way he was looking at Scar, that he wasn’t just referring to the physical cut.

And, yes, perhaps he should have realized how obvious he was being. Despite his own attempts to write off the injury as nothing more than a scratch, his hand was pressed over it hard enough to bruise his neck, as if he might bleed out if he loosened his grip in the slightest. And while he had allowed Mumbo to lead him into the End Crystal’s office, he had pulled away from him almost as soon as they were inside the room, rushing to put space between the two of them.

A space Mumbo hadn’t tried to enter, standing across from his own desk at a respectful distance, looking the entire time as though he wanted to step closer but knew it wouldn’t end well. The similarity of the situation to the one with Mumbo’s former bartender was not missed by Scar.

“I’ll be alright.” He said instead, trying his best to sound reassuring. “I’ve survived worse.”

Mumbo’s eyes flickered the slightest bit downwards, right to the proof of Scar’s claim, and his frown deepened. Scar shifted his hand slightly so as to cover more of his neck as he looked away from Mumbo.

Now neither of them were feeling reassured. Scar was doing spectacular.

The door to the office quickly opened and closed, and Scar turned his gaze towards Grian as he approached the two of them. He came to a stop next to Mumbo, easily picking up on the purposeful space that had been put between him and Scar. Similar to Mumbo, Grian looked more agitated than Scar felt he had the right to.

“Everything’s been cleaned up, and security detained the server without issue.” Grian informed them, glancing at where Scar’s cut was hidden underneath his hand. “Once we attend to you, Mr. Chronos, me and Mr. Eris can… discuss what happened today with them.”

“You know how much I love seeing you two beat up people and call it a discussion, Grian,” Scar put emphasis on Grian’s name, still in the process of trying to convince the South (namely, his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s not-boyfriend) that it was ok to use his first name, even when none of them were actively dying, “but it’s really not necessary in this case.”

Grian frowned. “It won’t be any trouble.”

“That’s what I said.” Mumbo grumbled.

“Yes, yes, it’s impressive how in sync you two are. Have you ever tried the newlywed game?” The only response Scar received were two near identical unamused stares. He decided not to comment on how they weren’t exactly proving him wrong. “Hey now, I don’t think you’re allowed to be angry at the injured guy.”

Mumbo sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want us to do anything to them?”

“Positive.”

“What if we do something anyway?”

Scar tilted towards Grian. “The End Crystal needs to maintain a somewhat nice reputation, doesn’t it? I feel like bleeding someone dry for tripping would achieve the opposite effect.”

“We’d be fine,” Grian replied, sounding sullen as he continued on with, “but I suppose I can tell security to let them go this time. Though they’re still fired.”

“They probably already quit.” Scar pointed out. Grian shrugged.

“I’ll leave them to squirm a bit before finding out.” 

“You may as well hand them their termination papers now.” Mumbo said, looking apologetic when Grian glanced over at him. “I was refilling the office first aid kit when Mr. Chronos came over and left it in the storeroom. If you wouldn’t mind grabbing it, you can also let our former employee know their services are no longer needed here.”

Grian rolled his eyes, though the gesture lacked the typical annoyance that came with it. “You’re a spoon.” He told Mumbo before turning back towards the door, heading off to do as he had been indirectly asked.

Scar shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t, uh, need to do that. The Glass Empire has sufficient resources.”

“As does the South.” Mumbo responded, bemused. “Similar to our reputation, our supplies will withstand you using a few.”

Again, Scar looked away from Mumbo. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mumbo’s frown return right before he took a single step toward Scar.

In an instant, Scar’s eyes were back on Mumbo as he flinched back, pressing closer to the desk, body tensing and gaze wary. It suddenly didn’t matter that Mumbo was his ally and his partner, that he had no reason right then to hurt Scar, that both he and Grian could have killed Scar a dozen times over on any given day he spent with them and had never tried. All that mattered was that he was too close to Mumbo, physically and otherwise. All that mattered was that he trusted Mumbo.

A mob boss, trusting someone? Had he really expected that to end any other way?

Scar dug his fingers into both wood and flesh. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. Whatever Mumbo did next, he was ready for it.

…Admittedly, he was not ready for Mumbo to immediately step back, raising his hands placatingly.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to get in your space.” Mumbo apologized, as if there still hadn't been a solid five feet between the two of them, as if Scar wasn’t in the epicenter of what was most certainly Mumbo’s space, not his. “This is going to make bandaging your neck a tad tricky, though.”

"I can do that myself." Scar replied, confused but no less defensive. 

"Are you sure that you should?" Mumbo asked, rushing on before Scar could respond, "I think- I think you want it bandaged right, and that's hard to do on your own."

Scar floundered. Mumbo was right, as much as he didn't want to acknowledge it (Mumbo knew him; Mumbo knew him). The cut wasn't very big, and for anyone else, it'd be easy enough to handle, but it wasn't anyone else. Scar needed help. Scar couldn't accept any help.

“Bdubs.” Scar forced out after a too long moment of silence. “He can… he’ll know what to do.”

Mumbo graciously didn’t point out the fact that wrapping up a small cut wasn’t very complicated to figure out. “Alright. Do you want to call him over here? Or, er, do you want to go back to your shop and meet him there?”

The way Mumbo paused on the second option made it clear which of the two choices he preferred, and Scar hated that he agreed. He would be safer in his offices over the End Crystal’s, but the journey to get there posed its own set of risks. He had the advantage of limited entrances and limited possible assailants in the room, and the fewer people who saw him clutching at a scratch like it was a fatal wound, the better.

You’d be safer taking an unarmed nightly stroll than you are here, a voice that had never stopped sounding like Dolos’s reminded him, snide and rotting, danger’s part of the job; trust is what gets you killed.

“Can you get him?” Scar asked, keeping his eyes on Mumbo despite wanting to look away, “He was pretty busy when I left. I don’t know if he’ll pick up my call.”

It was a lie, and a bad one at that. Bdubs was a right-hand, it was his job to drop everything to answer Scar's calls. But he needed an excuse to get Mumbo out, to get him away from Scar, and it was the first one that came to mind.

Mumbo took it without question, as if it was a reasonable thing for Scar to ask, as if it wasn't just Scar pushing the boss out of his own office. "If that’s what will help you, then of course. Do you want me to take Mr. Penemue with me?”

Mumbo was willing to get Bdubs. Mumbo was willing to get Bdubs himself, not by sending a lackey to fetch him. Mumbo was willing to get Bdubs and leave Scar, alone, in his office. Mumbo was willing to get Bdubs with Grian and leave Scar completely alone in the heart of his organization. Scar was starting to feel like he was the one who needed to be warning Mumbo about trust. Scar couldn’t make a sound. “He wouldn’t like that.”

“He’d understand.”

“He still wouldn’t like it.” Grian trusted Scar more than Scar had ever imagined he would- given Grian was actually willing to leave him alone with Mumbo- but Scar knew there were some things that never changed. Grian would spend the entire trip to fetch Bdubs thinking through every possible thing Scar could be doing in their absence, and the second he got back he’d rewatch his eyes’ footage five times over again just to be certain Scar truly hadn’t done anything more exciting than shift in place.

In response, Mumbo switched tactics. “Are you going to be alright if he stays here?”

It was a fair question. Scar was clearly flighty with only Mumbo. It didn’t make sense for him to be better off with his right-hand. He didn’t know Grian as well. He didn’t trust Grian as much.

And that was the kicker, wasn’t it? Scar didn’t trust Grian, not like he trusted Mumbo. He wouldn’t be nearly as surprised if Grian tried to take him out now. That made Grian safer.

“It’s ok, Mumbo. I won’t mind.”

Mumbo studied Scar’s expression, trying to see if there was any sign of him lying, as if it wasn’t better for him if he left Grian behind to keep an eye on everything. Then, he nodded once, a self-confirmation of whatever he had determined in that moment. “Alright.”

Before Scar had a chance to argue Mumbo’s acceptance- why was he so willing to do what Scar asked? didn’t he understand the danger?- Grian returned, so well-timed Scar wouldn’t be surprised if he had planned it. He was carrying a dark case that looked about the right size to fit into a desk drawer, sleek and unassuming despite the reinforced lock on it.

Mumbo turned towards Grian as he stopped beside him, once again giving Scar a wide berth of space he had no right to. “I have to go fetch Mr. Centuria for Mr. Chronos, won’t be long.”

Grian inclined his head, glancing at Scar, glancing at the distance still separating him from them. “Do you want me to come with you?” He asked, because even Mumbo’s over-protective-to-a-fault boyfriend of a bodyguard was willing to put Scar above logic, for some damned reason.

“No need. I’ll be quick.”

And Grian accepted that, with a nod and a small touch as Mumbo passed him and headed out of the office, as if it was logical, as if anything they were currently doing made any sense given who they were. Grian switched the case between his hands, looking thoughtfully at Scar.

“You seem… perplexed.” Grian said after a moment, stressing the word to imply the inherent understatement in it.

“If Mumbo had asked you to come with him, you would have… just gone?”

“I always do what Mr. Eris asks of me.”

A lie, unless Grian didn’t count Mumbo asking him to rest as a real request- but that was beside the point. “And you think that would’ve been safe?”

The corner of Grian’s mouth turned up in the slightest indication of a smirk, though the expression didn’t seem amused, more perfunctory. “You’re hardly a threat, Mr. Chronos.”

Scar glared at Grian, though it wasn’t strong enough to elicit any reaction from him. Scar had the sneaking suspicion even a truly harsh look wouldn’t inspire much more than a raised eyebrow from the right-hand. “I’m not Mumbo.”

“You’re not.” Grian acknowledged gracefully, ignoring the low-blow in Scar’s words. Scar almost wished he hadn’t. It’d be easier to be fighting, to know Grian was against him, rather than going through the polite business motions Grian was so good at and Scar so hated. “And I’m not Mr. Centuria-”

“Bdubs, just call him by his name, it’s Bdubs-”

“-yet you didn’t mind me staying.” Grian finished, shutting Scar up. Grian tilted his head, gaze piercing. “I’m neither your right-hand man, nor your partner, but I’m still here. You had Mumbo leave, but you’ve passed the opportunities presented to you to have me do so as well. You want me here, for some reason, but your interactions with me are currently bordering on hostile.”

The unspoken why? in Grian’s words was loud, but Scar couldn’t bring himself to answer it. There was no good way to explain that he didn’t trust Grian, that he was waiting for even the slightest indication Grian was going to turn on him, and that was why he could stay but Mumbo couldn’t. There was no good way to explain that, despite all that, Scar couldn’t bring himself to jeopardize the safety Grian so carefully cultivated for himself and Mumbo in the End Crystal. There was no good way to explain any of it, so Scar steadily met Grian’s eyes instead, saying nothing.

A long minute passed like that, neither of them speaking or breaking eye contact. Scar’s fingers dug deeper into his neck with each second that passed in the silence, waiting for the tension to snap, for Grian to make his move. It was a perfect time to strike, and Grian wouldn’t catch Scar by surprise.

Grian sighed. “Do you want help stemming the blood?”

Alright, that caught Scar by surprise. He tamped down on the highly irrational urge to ask Grian to just stab him already. “What?”

“I could bandage it too, but I presume that’s why Mr. Centuria is coming over.” Grian’s tone was largely professional, but the usual edge on it was soft in a way Scar knew was deliberate. “And I won’t get close unless you want me to.”

“I won’t move my hand.” Scar said, in lieu of I can’t move my hand, of did you hear your own double meaning, of why would you want to.

“Your palm isn’t very absorbent.” Grian replied, not missing a beat, not giving away anything outside of the exact words he spoke. “I can clean up what slips through. Up to you.”

Though his behaviour spoke to the contrary, Scar knew the cut on his throat wasn’t nearly bad enough to warrant such attention. At most, a few drops of blood had trickled past his hand, and Scar wasn’t particularly worried about them.

Grian knew that too. His demeanour was unrevealing, unreadable, but his manner didn’t change how he was trying to produce any reason to get close to Scar. It was suspicious. Dangerous. Untrustworthy.

And wasn’t that exactly why Scar had been fine with Grian staying?

“You don’t have to do that.” Scar waited a beat, trying to gauge any reaction from Grian. Predictably, there were none. “But you can get close anyways, if you want.”

“You’re certain?” Grian asked, even as he took a step forward, testing the waters as he dropped the case in his hand into one of the chairs facing Mumbo’s desk.

“Positive.”

Grian continued his approach, each step measured, lingering a second longer than necessary with each one. He went further than Scar entirely expected, only coming to a stop when he was directly in front of him. The space left between them was courteous, but slim compared to the wide margin that had been there. A good distance to attack from.

With his hands free, Grian crossed his arms, fingers visibly splayed over the fabric of his suit. Not a very pragmatic stance- it would take him a moment to reach one of his weapons and actually use it, and that would give Scar an opening.

“Can I ask how you got it?” Meanwhile, Grian apparently remained intent on using his strategy of blindsiding Scar without so much as raising a finger. “The scar.”

“...You can ask.”

Grian huffed, eyes crinkling just enough to make it a laugh. “Can I know if they’re dead, at least?”

“What if I said I tripped?”

“I’d know you were lying. But I wouldn’t push.”

“How accommodating.”

“The End Crystal offers only the best in service to our voluntary visitors.”

Scar looked away from Grian, watching him from the corner of his eye. True to his word, Grian didn’t push, didn’t try to make a move while Scar was feigning distraction. Why had he even wanted to get closer? What was he going to do?

“He’s dead.”

“Was it slow?”

“As slow as a bullet to the head is.”

Grian tsked. “Pity.”

Scar turned his gaze back to Grian, a half-teasing, half-provoking comment dying on his tongue when he realized that Grian’s focus had dropped from his face to his neck, looking at the scar in the same way Mumbo had. But that couldn’t be right. That would mean something Scar hadn’t calculated for.

“Back in our old town,” Grian started, and if Scar didn’t know better, he’d describe the words as halting, “Mumbo’s first right-hand tried to have me killed.”

Scar’s eyes widened. Grian’s fingers twitched, still staring at the remnants of the large cut that had nearly taken Scar’s life, and for a fleeting moment Scar imagined him reaching out, tracing the line of the scar.

“I know what betrayal looks like.” Grian added, gaze drifting back up to meet Scar’s. “What happens when someone gets too close.”

Scar’s chest felt tight. Why was he so close? “Are they dead?”

“Yes.”

“Was it slow?”

Grian smirked, the sharp edges of his teeth showing as he leaned forward, resting some of his weight on the desk. “Agonizingly.”

Grian had a hand planted on each side of Scar, boxing him in between Grian and Mumbo’s desk. Paradoxically, Scar’s grip on his neck loosened from the point of near strangulation, some of the tension ebbing from his body. This he understood. This he was ready for.

“Are you going to kill me?” Scar asked, just to have it out in the open.

“If I was going to kill you, Mr. Chronos,” Grian’s tone was smooth, like he wasn’t surprised by the question, like he had seen it coming, “you’d already be dead.”

“My first name, please.”

“Why do you think I want you dead?”

Because everyone does. Because that’s the business. “You wanted to get close.”

“And you thought it was so I could attack you?” Grian didn’t leave enough time between his sentences for Scar to provide an answer to the question. Not that Scar would have given one. “Can I not want to get close just for the sake of it?”

Too late, Scar began to realize he had miscalculated again. The situation they had entered was dangerous- more dangerous than Scar had thought- but not for the same reasons. Grian wasn’t building up to a fight.

“Grian-”

“Do you consider us enemies?” Grian took a step into his space, nearly pressing the two of them against each other. “The South and the Glass Empire are friendly, but are we?”

“Why would you think we’re enemies?”

“You know what they say.” Grian shifted his balance, lifting one hand from the desk to raise it to Scar’s neck, fingers layering over Scar’s where he was pressing down on his accidental injury. Scar made to flinch, reflexes not nearly as fast as they needed to be, but Grian didn’t start choking him, didn’t produce a short blade to bury in Scar’s throat. He matched the pressure Scar was applying, not an ounce of malice in the gesture. “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

Scar’s mouth was dry. He had lost his footing, stumbling past the point of no return without even realizing, and now Grian’s face was directly in front of his, hand on his neck, and yet the snide voice that usually rang out in the back of his mind, pointing out his every weakness and blind spot, was dead silent.

For less than a microsecond, Scar’s eyes darted down, looking directly at Grian’s lips.

“Are we enemies?” Scar barely managed to ask, hushed, anticipation almost sounding like fear.

“That depends, Scar,” Grian dragged out his name, so close Scar could practically feel it, fingers curling around the back of Scar’s neck to keep him from pulling away, “how close do you keep your enemies?”

Scar’s breath caught in the back of his throat. Grian had him trapped, literally and metaphorically, no space left for Scar to try and escape into even if he felt capable of moving, but for the first time since Scar had entered the office with his neck barely bleeding, he wasn’t waiting for a hidden blade to find purchase in his flesh. The hand Grian still had on the desk was pressing into Scar’s thigh, but Scar couldn’t imagine it doing anything other than moving to his hip, another point of connection as Grian did more than just hold him still, as he moved in a little bit closer as he pulled Scar with him, as-

“Are we interrupting something?”

If it weren’t for how tightly coiled he was with tension (a very different kind of tension then had been keeping him frozen five minutes ago), Scar would have jumped a mile in the air at the sound of Mumbo’s voice. While Grian smoothly turned away from Scar to face the door, hand still damningly on Scar’s neck, Scar forced his gaze in the same direction.

Standing in the doorway were Mumbo and Bdubs, whose arrival Scar apparently had missed. They both seemed slightly out of breath, as though they had been in a hurry to reach the office, but they weren’t nearly winded enough to not also be looking at Scar and Grian like they had walked in on something extremely amusing.

“I can turn around for a minute, if you need me to.” Bdubs offered. Given the reason Mumbo had fetched him, Scar couldn’t exactly immediately dismiss Bdubs back to their offices, but the thought of doing so was tempting.

“We’re not-” Scar’s voice came out three pitches too high and more guilty sounding than a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. He shut his mouth immediately, stringing together some colourful curses in his head in the meanwhile. What the hell was he supposed to tell Mumbo that would explain why he was so close to his right-hand? Especially when said right-hand was still holding his neck, a choice that was starting to feel rather shameless.

Was this how Grian was going to get Scar killed? If it was, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to be mad about it.

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Grian said, sounding as though he were discussing the weather, completely composed save for a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks that even right beside him Scar could only barely see, “I’m merely helping Mr. Chronos with his injury.”

Mumbo, who Scar presumed could pick out Grian’s exact skin tone in a crowd from a mile away, seemed to catch the flush and grinned. “How… professional of you, Mr. Penemue.”

“Yes, well.” Grian finally took his hand away from Scar’s neck, slowly at first so as not to startle Scar before speeding up, turning fully to begin striding towards Mumbo and picking up the first aid case as he went. “Mr. Centuria, I’ll leave Mr. Chronos in your capable hands. Mr. Eris and I will be outside if you need us. Take all the time you see fit.”

Bdubs took a step into the office, startled, as Grian brushed past him. Grian grabbed Mumbo’s arm, tugging him out of the doorway and pulling the door shut behind them in one fell swoop.

After staring at the suddenly shut door for a moment, Bdubs shook his head, looking back towards Scar as he began to approach him. Tucked under his arm was one of the End Crystal’s grab-and-go first aid kits.

“I was going to apologize for not arriving sooner,” Bdubs came to a stop slightly to Scar’s side, moving the kit to his hands as he unzipped it. He seemed entertained by the situation, which Scar really didn’t appreciate, “but I guess I should have arrived later instead.”

“I don’t know- I don’t know what you’d expect to be different. If you had been later.” Scar very deliberately avoided meeting Bdubs’s eyes. He hadn’t told a lie that audibly flimsy since long before he had become an organizational head.

“Would you like me to describe what I had expected?”

“Would you like to find yourself rapidly unemployed?”

Scar’s (admittedly hollow) threat fell flat if Bdubs’s following chuckle was anything to go by. “I’ll leave it to your imagination, then. Raise your chin.”

Doing his best to not let his imagination run off on its own track, Scar did as asked. He took his hand away from his neck when Bdubs prompted as well, Bdubs applying pressure to the spot with a cotton ball in lieu of Scar’s palm.

Bdubs didn't say anything further about the matter (although Scar was certain he wanted to) as he went to work cleaning and disinfecting the site of the wound. No sound from outside the office made it inside, which meant that any conversation Mumbo and Grian were or weren’t having was unavailable for Scar to eavesdrop on.

“Do you think Mumbo's going to try to kill me?” Scar asked half-seriously, more to the room itself than Bdubs. Killing over Grian's honour would be extreme, but that was hardly a deterrent for the South.

“For what? That?” Bdubs scoffed. “Would be a bit hypocritical of him.”

“Hypocritical?”

Bdubs paused in his ministrations, shifting his focus from Scar’s neck to his face with a frown. “Wait. What are you worried about?”

“As much as I would like to pretend you went briefly blind upon entering the room, I know you saw, er, that, and I know Mumbo did too. And you know how they are.” Scar shot a glance in the general direction of the South leaders. “He’s teased us for some of our banter before, but admittedly we… looked….like we were doing a bit more than that.”

Bdubs blinked once, twice. “Scar, please. I can’t do this again.”

“Do what again?”

“When you finally accepted the South’s offer of a partnership, and you came back to our office and made a joke about business partnerships with benefits,” Bdubs was speaking very slowly, as if making sure Scar understood each individual word, “that was referring to Mumbo and Grian, right?”

Any concerns Scar might have had about blood loss went out the window as his entire face flushed red hot at the speed of light.

“Right?” Bdubs repeated, sounding desperate. When Scar remained embarrassingly silent, he dropped his head into his free hand, covering his face as he groaned.

“I don’t-” Scar paused to clear his throat. It had been a very bad day for him, in terms of acting like the intimidating mob boss he usually was. “Why did you think the deal was with both of them?”

“Because I have two eyes.” Bdubs deadpanned. “I don’t know if I should be more upset over that, or the fact that it means, of the two of them, you sent the one you aren’t dating to get me.”

“You know exactly why I did that.”

“I do. Doesn’t make it any less stupid.” With a sigh, Bdubs lifted his head again, turning his attention back to Scar’s injury. “But it worked out this time. This doesn’t need stitches, and the worst thing Grian did was forget to lock the doors.”

“Bdubs.”

Unperturbed, Bdubs went on with his work, bandaging Scar's neck. “And as to your question, no, Mumbo's not going to try and kill you. He also has eyes, and if he had a problem you would have heard about it by now.”

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying.”

“You’ll like it less if I say it directly.”

“Got me there.” Scar muttered, letting the conversation lapse as Bdubs finished up. His attempts to put his thoughts in order, regarding what had nearly happened and what Bdubs had said, were sabotaged by the distracting concept of what could have been had Mumbo and Bdubs arrived five minutes later.

By the time Bdubs had taped down the edges of the bandage, the only thing Scar had really managed to figure out was that Mumbo most likely wasn't going to kill him. If he was, Scar doubted he would have granted him the courtesy of waiting until Bdubs left to strike. As to everything with Grian, well- Scar had given up trying to think any of it through.

“Good as new.” Bdubs replaced his remaining supplies in the first aid kit, zipping it shut while looking at Scar meaningfully. “I’ll head back to the shop now, assuming you don’t need anything else.”

“Actually, I think I’ll come with you.” Scar took his weight off Mumbo’s desk for the first time since he had entered the room, putting his cane back to use. His other arm ached as he stretched it out, cramped from having been bent towards his neck for so long. “I’ve had my fill of the End Crystal for the day.”

“You don’t want to stay a bit longer? Maybe talk with your business partners first?”

Scar pointedly ignored the obvious implications of Bdubs’s choice in wording. “I’m sure Mumbo and Grian have more important things to be doing right now.”

“...Alright.” The disappointment in both Bdubs’s tone and expression was so thick Scar could have kicked it. Scar chose to ignore it too.

The walk from one end of the End Crystal’s main office to the other had never felt so long, and only partially because Scar was dragging his feet for it. Heading back to his shop still required passing by Mumbo and Grian, and Scar feared it was a little too soon for them all to pretend like today had never happened.

Bdubs, who Scar suspected wanted to leave him at the End Crystal for (at minimum) a fortnight before seeing him again, didn’t seem as concerned with the incoming interaction and pushed open one of the doors without any hesitation.

Mumbo and Grian were idling near the center of the waiting area, Grian leaning against the back of a couch that was much too nice to be used so casually with Mumbo standing next to him. Both were already turned towards the office doors, likely having cut off whatever conversation they had been having when they heard the sound of the doorknob turning.

“I hope you’re feeling better, Mr. Chronos.” Grian’s voice was professional, polite, devoid of any personal emotions. His countenance was the same, carefully closed off in the way it always was, in the way Scar was used to, in the way Scar was starting to hate.

“Much.” Scar answered with an enthusiasm he didn't entirely feel. “Now, while the South's hospitality has been as refined as ever, I'd hate to put you out more than I already have.”

“Your company never puts us out any.” Mumbo, in direct contrast to Grian, made no attempt to hide his continued amusement with the situation. Scar decided to hate that as well. “You're welcome to stay longer, if you wish.”

“I don't want to impose. And I really should get back to my offices.”

“If you must.” Mumbo said reluctantly, and Scar took a small comfort in the fact that at least some of his disappointment was genuine. “Safe travels.”

Without looking away from Scar, Grian tugged on one of his sleeves, straightening out the edge of it. Scar resolutely did not think about how it likely got rumpled when Grian had been holding his neck. “The South looks forward to your next visit.”

“You make it sound so impersonal, Grian.” Scar mindlessly quipped, a mistake he fully intended to blame on being distracted by Grian’s sleeves.

Granted, Grian entertaining him with a response was probably a mistake on his own behalf, but given Grian delivered his with a single raised eyebrow and perfect composure, Scar felt as though he was faring better than Scar was. “Would you prefer I make it personal, Mr. Chronos?”

Using what scant wisdom he currently had access to, Scar opted to not try and answer the trick question and hastily pivoted back to the main point of the conversation. “Ah- until next time, gentlemen!”

Scar made his departure with as much dignity as he could- which, admittedly, was not nearly enough. Bdubs followed a step behind him, and although Scar was no longer looking at them, he was certain Mumbo and Grian’s eyes were also following him out.

For a brief moment, in the stint of time between Scar opening the door to leave through and Bdubs closing it, Mumbo and Grian’s voices slipped out.

“‘Would you prefer I make it personal’?”

“Shut up.”

Bdubs gave Scar the courtesy of waiting until they were back on their own territory to treat him to the same. “‘You make it sound so impersonal’?”

“Shut up.” Scar replied with no bite, making a beeline for his office to hide in as soon as they were inside the jewelry shop. He heard Bdubs sigh, but his right-hand didn't try to pursue him, which meant the matter was as good as settled as far as Scar was concerned.

(It wasn’t, and Scar knew that. Not when he could still feel where Grian had touched him, white hot yet leaving his skin uncharred.

Grian could kill him. Grian probably wanted to kill him, all things considered, and certainly would without hesitation if he had any reason to suspect Scar of being a threat. Mumbo wouldn’t stop him. In the event of Scar’s bloody demise at Grian’s hands, Mumbo would- at best- be mildly disappointed. No, the South was as great of a threat to the Glass Empire as it ever had been- even more so now that they were allies, now that Scar had gotten so close.

The part of his mind that Dolos’s mimicry perpetually inhabited recoiled at the thought of Scar learning nothing and letting trust pave the way to the destruction and downfall of his empire. Dolos was a traitor, but he had understood that trust was best for use as a weapon and little else.

The part still focused on the burning, in counter, played on repeat the moment where Grian had wrapped his hand around Scar’s neck and hadn’t so much as dug his nails in.)

Scar slumped into his chair and dragged a hand over his face. Without even meaning to, his hand dropped from his chin to his neck, fingers curling around the back exactly as Grian’s had.

Fuck.

[definitelynotshouting]

3am Moldy Martyn Anon Back Again

still rotating hunger au despite the MONUMENTAL EVENTS OCCURRING (as soon as i watch secret life instead of just admiring all the fanart i’m gonna be insane too)

1)

thinking abt the tragedy of current watcher grians existence.

so player grian got eaten, remembers being both the devourer and the devoured, etc etc etc, ship of theseus, we’ve covered that

but also? thinking abt the watcher larva that existed before it became grian.

if it could remember anything from that point, it went from

being cocooned in the not-yet-suffocating love of its caretakers, still so unaware of the scope of its world, taking its first steps, learning how to *be*

to, STRAIGHT TO, DO NOT PASS GO DO NOT COLLECT 200$ NO SNACK BREAKS NO NOTHING, DIRECTLY TO,

knowing far too much. knowing that you’re you, the larval watcher cradled by its caretakers, and also you’re you, the player stolen from his home and friends and everything he’s ever loved by these incomprehensible beings and NOW YOURE ONE OF THEM.

it’s incredibly sad— because there’s no one else for watcher grian to BE, other than grian. The larval watcher hadn’t had a chance to exist before it was someone else. Sure, watcher grian’s got the watcher form and watcher hunger and watcher needs— but there was nothing, really, to differentiate the biology from the watcher that watcher grian was before cannibalizing player grians code.

we are, i think, made up of our memories. There wasn’t enough memories in that larval watcher to be an individual at all, in the face of player grians memories. I wonder if the larval watcher had a name, before grian— did any of the watchers care about it, beyond a being a means of continuing a dying species? or was it always meant to be exploited?

think it would be mad interesting to see that angle as well. yes watcher grian and player grian are, functionally, the same person, just with differing amounts of trauma. But how empty did the larval watcher have to be in order for grian, memory wise, to be the same person?

Like, the question was raised and answered earlier, abt the differences between the player and the watcher grian being a ship of theseus question for both the characters and the readers, and like i said before—

who else is there for watcher grian *to be*????

it’s horrifying to think of the implications of the watchers kidnapping and meddling with the very being of a player. it’s even more horrifying to think they’d be so willing to give up one of their very few and delicate larva to this experiment.

even done in desperation, the willingness to sacrifice a child and irrevocably change them in the name of a nebulous idea they (the child/larva) can’t even understand enough to consent to, is both the most horrifying thing that’s come out of the hunger au and also characterizes the watchers extremely well.

2)

surprise! all that was context for a joke (<- says person haunted by the concept).

aware this isn’t canon but please imagine with me the forever toddler watcher consciousness living in the back of grians head:

grian, starving himself to avoid hurting his friends, going through two death games and maintaining enough of a facade to build some incredible structures: finally. sleep.

toddler watcher living in the back of his head: you got games on your phone? you got candy crush? temple run? doodle jump? You got games? Please? Games?

grian, searching up “lobotomy diy wikihow” on minegoogle: you’re lucky i cant punt you.

call that brain a meat hotel the way it’s— *EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER*

3)

ever think about how tf the watchers came up with this batshit idea in the first place. like i’m imagining a board room in the void with these solar shrimp/centipede lookin mfers in a suit and tie (the pants are either one big pencil skirt or many formal looking leg warmers), and mx. [GARBLED TEXT] (DUBBED JAMIE FOR TRANSLATORS CONVENIENCE) stands up after doing a line of void cocaine (like normal cocaine except it glows purple) directly on the boardroom’s void table and says “I HAVE A SOLUTION TO THE POPULATION CRISIS. ITS GONNA KNOCK YOUR SOCKS OFF. ALL 8 MILLION OF THEM. EVERY ONE OF YOU.”

dramatic pause.

“WE FEED THE BABIES PLAYER BRAINS.”

a timid hand raises.

“YES [GARBLED TEXT] (DUBBED SALAXANDER)?”

“sorry but uh isn’t that what we already do???”

“NO. SALAXANDER THATS THE BEAUTY OF IT. WERE GONNA HAVE THEM EAT THE PLAYER BRAIN…. AND THEN BECOME THEM!!!!!! NO MORE PESKY BABY YEARS. ONLY CAPABLE WATCHER”

“jamie if this is about the larvae throwing up on you the last time you watched them im awful sorry about that—“

“DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TAKES TO GET REGURGITATED EMOTIONS OUT OF IMPORTED CUSTOM MADE GUCCI???? THE HALF DIGESTED REGRET STAINED THE VIBES FOREVER. AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON WHAT THEY DID TO MY JORDANS— DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH 800 PAIRS OF JORDANS COST?? DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO MAKE PLAYER MONEY LOOKING LIKE THIS?”

a deep breath.

“NO MORE BABY WATCHERS! FUCK THEM KIDS. ”

a cheer echos through the room, a near unanimous agreement.

salaxander looks like xier contemplating reducing the dwindling watcher population by one tonight.

DJCJDJVJFJCJDJX no but damn. jokes aside was player eating the first option or did they try other things? it’s not ultimately important, i think, in the scheme of things, but i do think it would be very funny for player eating to be the FIRST resort. like damn y’all saw half an opportunity and jumped on it like vultures on roadkill.

4) re: docs mystery solution i saw someone mention microwaving grian a bit and yknow that one vine where they’re like “GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE. GET UP THERE.” and the person climbing the fridge goes “THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE.”? yeah. grian microwave hours.

or or or

grian, getting the Watcher Brain Rumbles: do not contact me i will be microwaved.

someone: what

cut to deep fried image of grian in the microwave with impact font caption being

“he will b

be microwaved”

yeah okay memes MOSTLY aside having to go meditate in the ATROCIOUS vibes room for 30 minutes every day/couple of days beats starving. i’m imagining walking past this thing with like telepathy feels like a concert having a collective panic attack.

5) speaking of docs mystery solution, while i know the fic is focused on grians healing, i’m having fun thinking about the random watcher that sees this and goes “WE COULDVE BEEN DOING THAT THE WHOLE TIME????????” well not random there’s like 40 left but i have to imagine at least one of them is odd enough to go “OH BOY CARDBOARD? SIGN ME UP” we all know someone who would subsist off of like the irl version of soylent green exclusively so i imagine watchers aren’t that different. i’m assuming it’s jamie for my own amusement.

don’t have to bother feeding the baby watchers anymore just stick em in the Microwave Incubator while they flop around.

It’s not Delivery, It’s Docm77’s Mystery Meal Solution!

also side note re the mystery solution i feel like that’s the equivalent of being Watcher Vegan. don’t have any follow up to that lmfaooooo.

wow i did. not expect this to get this long. thank you for your time and i hope you have a wonderful day!

ps: you got a 🍄 anon? i think i’ve sent like four or five asks in the past week so perhaps picking an identifier is not A Bad idea djcjdjxjdjdj

HELLO 3AM MUSHROOM ANON!!! :D ajdhsjdjd ur absolutely free to take the mushroom emoji, i dont think anyone has that rn!!

godspeed on watching secret life, i have a post-finale fic up on ao3 now to read whenever u want if u desire an extra dose of pain LOLOL gods that ending gutted me. ive been deboned like a fucking trout about it

BUT YEAH FOR THE HUNGER AU THINGS...

1.) you raise a really good and interesting point, in that like-- yeah!! the larva didnt have time to be anyone other than Grian, because it was specifically modified from the start to copy over his memory code. the entire time it cannibalized his code, it was copying over those memories, his personality, his stats. from the start, the moment it hatched inside of him it was collecting that data and rapidly copying it over.

i dont necessarily think it was super aware while it was doing that-- i think that as time went on the awareness grew, but it was cloudy and uncertain, not something he remembers very clearly or was processed well. he remembers emergence, of course, and he remembers Player!Grian dying (and feeding on him as he did), but those hazy days before that?? not much more than sense memory, i think.

i think on the Watchers' parts it was an extremely calculated move that came from sheer desperation, and it wasnt made lightly-- Watcher culture is very community oriented, and children are incredibly valuable when you can only reproduce like. once or twice every year or so. it was a calculated risk, but in all honesty, it was less risky to them in the long term than just trying to raise a juvenile from scratch. a child doesnt really know their own limitations; an adult, however, is much more knowledgeable, and in theory is more willing to listen to them when they say "hey if you mess around too much you WILL die." Grian was selected because he was clever and tricky-- the Watchers needed a Player with a quick mind so they could cut down on the amount of teaching they'd need to do..... but what they didnt account for, bc Players are so alien to them (and vice versa) is that ummm . well !!!! Thats Trauma, Babe™<3

it genuinely did not occur to the Watchers that Grian wouldnt want to stay. or, at least, they just didnt consider the traumatic aspect of all this, or the MASSIVE cultural shock. Player cultural values are way different in many ways to Watcher cultural values!!! it was a blind spot they truly didnt account for, and ultimately that was why Grian was able to escape; they just didnt see the attempt coming.

UHHHHHH other than that like-- i dont think the larva had a name?? like, the Watchers cared, of course they cared, but this was about as blank of a canvas as you can get to stretch Grian's memories over. and something to note here for you that you might find interesting-- you mentioned here the horror of the Watchers changing the code of a child who cant consent, and thats super true, it is horrifying.... from ours, and a Player's, perspectives. Watchers are subject to a very orange and blue morality system as opposed to ours, which i find a very neat dissonance in-- yes, its absolutely horrifying for us to contemplate being changed so thoroughly against our autonomy. but for Watchers, who forcibly changed themselves to avoid getting wiped out by the Seekers, who regularly shift code around like its water... thats just a tuesday. idk i just think thats a neat concept to noodle on, and that it highlights how alien their culture is vs ours (and Players, whom are closer to us in terms of cultural similarities)

2.) something something funnier as a system--💥💥💥💥💥💥

3.) i am utterly obsessed with this image youve concocted of the Watcher boardroom (which also might be a consequence of having JUST spent over 5 hrs straight playing Control with my cousin LMFAO) and also,,,,, void cocaine,,,,,, 😭😭😭😭😭 the implication that this is just a normal Watcher board meeting is so fucking funny to me I CAAANT

i dont think it was the first idea they had, because i think they tried for very many years to hold out the normal way-- but with how fragile Watchers are, especially their juveniles, it just wasnt a viable option. so they started looking elsewhere; another option i think they explored was to see if they could try and modify themselves again, but... like i said, Watchers are fragile. capable of really cool crazy things!!!! but theyre a "made of spun sugar and held together with a packet of chewing gum" type beat of an entity, yknow?? forcing another hardcore evolutionary change Just Like That was WAY too risky to try again-- i think a lot of Watchers just straight up didnt survive that initial change, bc when you're fucking with structural code, you're about one misstep away from collapsing like a house of cards.

so thats why they ended up settling on Player conversion, so to speak. it was a calculated way to try and mitigate the heavy infant mortality rates they suffer due to juvenile watchers not understanding their limits-- being able to just skip years of around-the-clock minding and monitoring to make sure a juvenile doesnt die would buy a lot of time for the rest of the Watcher colony to start expanding their numbers, which could eventually bring them back up to a larger population. what they didnt account for, unfortunately, is that there is a HUGE culture difference, and a Player forced to go through something that traumatic is unmmm mm. not going to wanna stick around<3

4.) im so obsessed with how everyone has latched onto the microwave thing wkndejfnekfj its so funny to me bc like i know what Doc's machine is, i know exactly how it functions, i even know the exact components its made of-- im honestly just keeping it a secret for the sake of my own amusement at this point WHEEEEEEEZE so seeing yall go ham in the microwave jokes and the machine speculation is SO funny to me. i cant wait for yall to see what it actually is like im so excited to see the reaction SJDBEJDNSNSN /gen

5.) you're so right, Grian is the equivalent of a vegan Watcher 😭😭😭😭😭😭 SKDNSNDNNSNDKSS

begging to the gods that my readmore works here because holy shit this is a long one. but thank u for the ask and the questions and i am indeed having a wonderful day!!! i hope you have a great one too :] ❤️❤️❤️