#fic: watcher

[myeoomski]

ddvau grian i guess

i like messing w colors

alt/boring one under cut

[1-marigold-1]

When your best friend is a bilblically accurate angel

They are all in the same situation guys (Yes I headcannon Pix as a watcher, since the Empires x Hermitcraft crossover hghgh)

They are three stages of one expierience

Mumbo: confused, shocked, kinda uncomfortable when around Grian in his full form, starts getting used to it

Impulse: Used to it

Sloy: Literally. Doesn't care. "You're a watcher? Cool."

Also this meme

That's the vibes I get from them

Ngl "My best friend is a biblically accurate angel" sounds like a good movie/book title

[theminecraftbee]

god okay. keep in mind i didn't watch evo. but if we're doing stuff with watchers in traffic series. and we're doing the "jimmy is cursed to be the one that dies first to warn everyone else that it's time to die" thing. don't you think we should also do something with the fact that, if i remember right, the watchers canonically just Absolutely Fucking Despised jimmy? like, didn't they outright ditch him between updates at one point (and that's how he met the listeners)? wasn't that a thing? i could be mixing my lore up but i SWEAR that's a thing,

[pawubits]

ok guys dont freak out but. grian fanart.

I DID SAY THIS WAS AN MCYT BLOG,,,OKAY,,

(btw this is fanart for a fic called "Healing Is a Four Letter Word" made by Hypno_cat over on ao3!)

[cuteiemonster]

Honestly I don't have much of an explanation outside of I like the irony of a Blind Watcher. And. Well. Grian is right there for things to go awry like that. So,

This was created for the 2024 Reverse Big Bang hosted by @mcytblraufest !! Us artists had to create artwork for the writers to claim this time around! >:)

and speaking of writers.. my art garnered the attention of not one, but two writers, who both created fanfics based off of my art!! It's been such a cool experience seeing how differently they've both taken things and they're both VERY WELL DONE!!!!!!!!

" Glass " by @honeylashofficial

Parts make up a whole, but Mumbo hasn't been a part of anything for a very long time. He was okay with that though. The world was more than welcome to continue outside his window, as long as he had his oven and his cable tv all to himself. But every once in a while, the outside world comes inside, and he has to chase it back out with a broomstick. This time, his technique backfires in a way he never could have imagined. Or... Mumbo could count the number of his friends without even raising a hand. Who knew that a 30,000 year-old creature stealing his bed comforter could change that?

" Lost To The End " by Sary_Sary

Six months ago, Mumbo’s closest friend vanished without a trace, leaving nothing but unanswered questions. 6 months later, a strange creature appears in his bedroom, with no inkling of how or why. With no clue how this creature got there or what it wants, Mumbo is thrown into a whirlwind of confusion as he tries to figure out what is going on. Now, Mumbo has to continue trying to figure out where Grian went, all while learning what this creature even is, and how to help him without harming him in the process. To make matters worse, the only person who can help him unravel this mystery is the one person Mumbo swore he would never work with: Scar.

[onelonelyghost0]

DIPPER WILL BE TRANS. AND UNHINGED. HES GONNA HAVE A SIMILAR JOURNEY WITH GENDER AS I DID BUT HES GONNA LAND ON MOSTLY MASC INSTEAD OF FEM. IDK BUT EVERY FIC I WRITE HAS HIM BEING TRANS IDK BUT THE BEAM HIT HIM. YES THIS WILL END UP BEING IMPORTANT. IF YOU DONT LIKE IT why the fuck are you on my blog reading my shit like wtf? Bffr and go to another blog, or follow me.

[stiffyck]

Still obsessed with this fic :3

(Written by the amazing @/desertduality)

[characcoon]

There's gotta be an universal rule that whenever Elven Scar exists, he has to offer the Elven Kiss cookie like this. It's just too good.

Scene from chapter 3 of Color Theory.

[solargeist]

The Watchers in my AU are meant to be complicated and confusing. It’s part of why Grian stays for so long, why he’s so conflicted and why it bothers him to the point of venting to Mumbo.

They can be very kind, they do love him, they compliment him on everything. He gets gifts and everything given to him.

But on the other hand, bc they love him, they can be critical, telling him why that and why this, not that not this, they have pretty high standards for Beings that have seen everything already, not easy to genuinely impress.

They give him food, as parental figures should, anything he asks, but that’s sorta the problem, he always has to ask, there’s no way around this, no independence. He can ask for ingredients to cook by himself, but they’ll watch him.

He’s given clothes to wear, always within Watcher standard, dark and loose garments, open for his wings. He’d honestly prefer brighter colours, but that’s not rly a choice.

They tell him he’s special, he was chosen, better than the rest, a champion, a hero, and while it pets his ego, he feels pressure, they went out on a limp for him and he still can’t do enough. There is so much guilt.

Being here in the end messes with his psyche a bit, he’s much shorter than everyone, he has to rely on everyone, they all treat him like a kid, petting his hair or moving him via his shoulders instead of asking. He accidentally leans into this sometimes as a subconscious coping mechanism, he cries easier than he thinks he should. Tantrums where he has to press his face into his hands, or grumble and stomp off. He always has to apologize.

Despite being treated like a child, he is a Watcher child, so he studies a lot, he trains a lot. If he throws up from training, that’s no excuse (well by Flora’s standards)

He does feel a sort of comfort or safety around Aether, She’s lenient with him, but they’re definitely still not equals. She still hides things from him She thinks is too serious, She’s still overtly positive. He thinks abt Her sometimes, in hindsight he knows it was a family dynamic, and he feels guilt abt this too.

The Watchers love him, but they are ultimately overbearing, overwhelming, and frankly quite scary if you don’t play by their rules. Grian has reason to be cautious, the silent threats that hang over his head, never directly said to him, but traitors are cast out, if you’re not worthy you don’t deserve these gifts of wings or eyes. I think he’s convinced if they ever find him they’ll rip his eyes out with talons.

He won’t admit that he likes the attention sometimes, when his efforts are acknowledged and/or praised, when his hair is brushed. He wants their approval.

However, this is the only ‘human’ contact he gets. He doesn’t have anyone else, so it’s taken with a grain of salt how genuine his feelings are abt the attention.

[sixteenth-days]

has anyone asked for watcher mumbo yet

"Grian," Pearl said, after a moment, "are you contagious?"

Grian made a sour expression as he shoved Mumbo past her into her base; she stepped aside, eyebrows raised. "I haven't got a virus, Pearl."

"Just asking," she said, pushing the door shut behind him. "Cause, you know, I'm pretty sure the last time I saw Mumbo, he had two eyes."

"What's important is that it's not my fault," Grian said, bundling Mumbo onto a sofa. Mumbo was staring at nothing, in about fifty different directions. Well, that was worrying.

Pearl looked at Grian doubtfully.

"It's not! It's actually not!" Grian said, defensive. "I didn't do anything! He stole my soul!"

Pearl went to flick Mumbo in the forehead, smoothly averted the gesture when she couldn't spot a clear patch of skin to target. "Well, what on earth did you go and do that for?" she asked him, not really anticipating a response.

"Mind, I'm not sure if he actually is a Watcher now or if he just looks like one," Grian said thoughtfully. "I guess that's his thing this season, is looking like what he eats, did you know?"

"Huh," Pearl said back, and squinted. "What would be the difference?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Grian admitted after a moment. "Maybe when he's coherent again we can ask him if he feels like his soul's been fundamentally reshaped or not."

"And when do you think that's going to be?" Pearl asked dubiously. She snapped her fingers in front of Mumbo's face a few times to emphasize the point. A trio of eyes blinked at her.

Grian shrugged. "Few hours? This is easier when it happens in the void. There's a lot less to look at."

"Alright. Well, I'm not getting any work done until then, I guess. Wanna watch a movie?"

[theminecraftbee]

There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:

He is dreaming.

It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.

He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.

He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.

We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.

We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.

"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.

"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"

"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."

"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.

Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."

"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"

Are you ready to play?

Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."

The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."

(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)

The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.

"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.

Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.

"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.

When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.

Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--

I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.

Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.

Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?

Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.

Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."

"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.

"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.

"What?" Martyn says.

We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?

"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.

Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.

Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.

"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."

"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"

It's your bet.

"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"

You're no fun.

Is that what you really want?

"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."

"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"

"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."

The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.

Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--

"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.

"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."

"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.

"Please," Grian says.

The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.

Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.

He stares at the numbers.

Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."

The dealer nods.

"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.

If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.

Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"

"Why?" Martyn says again.

Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.

"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"

Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.

The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.

The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.

The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.

"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"

"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."

Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.

"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."

Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.

Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.

"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."

Two of spades.

He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.

"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.

The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--

The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.

Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.

Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.

The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--

"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"

THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.

(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)

YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.

There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.

AND THAT IS ME.

Martyn stares Death in the eyes.

Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.

He does not sleep again for a long time.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

omg buzfeed unsolved au with ghost as shane and soap as ryan

but also with the headcanon that ghost/shane is a demon sent to kill soap/ryan then became his bestie

[masked-watcher]

Soap created a Group chat Soap changed the profile picture Soap changed the name to “1-whore-1 💅” Ghost left the chat Soap added Ghost to the chat Price: Shouldn't you all be working? Soap: Who says we aren't working? Price: You think chatting like this during work hours is considered "working"?! Soap: You're chatting too Price: It's different! Soap: Lmao yeah sure Soap: Hey, hey Ghost! Ghost ✓✓ Soap: DON'T LEAVE ME ON READ I SEE YOU'RE ONLINE Ghost has removed you from his "Friends" list and blocked you You're no longer able to see the user "Ghost" online status Ghost has left the chat Soap: WHAT THE FUCK Price: Soap, watch with the language! Soap: But but but but he blocked me Gaz: Maybe that's for a good reason? Soap: You're all so mean imma go cry Roach: Bro, seriously?! Soap: Shut up you insect 😭 Roach: Insect? Okay and you're literally the most basic dude here. Soap: Wow. Is national bully Soap day today? Gaz: Yeah, you didn't get the memo? Soap: 😭🖕 Soap is offline Price: Okay, I guess we shouldn't have gone too far... Roach: Too late now... Gaz: Soap will forgive us. Roach: You sure? Gaz: He'll be back in 3... Gaz: 2 Gaz: 1 Soap is online Soap: Okay can someone please tell Ghost to unblock me before I have to go physically meet him Price: Soap, just leave Ghost alone he clearly wants some time alone. Soap: But it's super mega important!! Price: What is so important that you need Ghost's attention?? Soap: That's a secret 👉👈 Price: Soap... Price: You're not still pining over him are you...? Soap: WHAT THE- Where the hell did you learn that word captain?? Price: ...I have my sources. Soap: I- Okay I don't even wanna know but NO I AM NOT Price: I was joking, Soap. You clearly are obsessed with him, I thought it was obvious. Soap: 🖕 Price: Don't you be giving me the finger, Soap, I can dock your pay for that. Soap: Abuse of power!!! I'm telling on you to Laswell!! Price: I'll dock your pay and your vacation days, don't challenge me. Soap: 😭

[flebdoodle]

The Pines (Graphic Novel) - Chapter One

Hi! Loaf here with some housekeeping!

First order of business, there are 3 more chapters coming! (consider following me if you wanna read them KOFFF KOFF)

Secondly, this is not an original story! This is an adaptation of Docofthedark's amazing fic The Pines which you should totally read because holy smokes it's amazing and to get the things I couldn't include here and also because I love the way she writes characters and-

Oh I almost forgot!

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinktober 9 - Pony Play

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Unnamed F!OC, established PriceGhost and Laswell x OC

CW: Pony play, dehumanization, no explicit consent, PIV sex, breeding kink, implied insemination

Note: Pet and animal play can be freeing, but also triggering for some people. This story is from Simon's POV, and the unnamed OC is not described beyond she/her pronouns and her labia being called her "cunt." Please mind the CWs.

Things are easy for Simon when he’s in pony space. He’s strong, useful. And today, he’s got a very specific use. He turns a tight circle at Price’s instruction, giving Kate a good look at his form. It’s mostly show. Kate’s seen him this way before, gear a bit scuffed from a couple of hours pulling a cart.

“He’s in fine form,” Kate eventually says. “I’ll get my girl set up in the barn.”

Price chuckles, and leads Simon over to the hose by his halter. He’s not exactly gentle when he hoses Simon down, but it feels good. It feels even better when Price strips him of everything but his bridle and starts stroking his cock in firm, efficient pulls.

"There's my good boy. Been real patient, real polite,” Price rumbles. “Gonna give Kate's cute girl a champion, yeah?"

Simon grunts out an affirmative noise, arms crossed behind his back like he’s been trained. He stomps a foot when he’s closer to cumming than he knows Price wants him. A heavy hand pats his chest twice in appreciation before he’s being put into his stud gear. He lets Price put him into sturdy boots and a secure chest harness, then bends to press his face against the side of the house as Price eases his tail plug into place.

Finally, his handler leads him into the barn with a firm hand on his halter. Simon has a hard time not surging forward when he sees a sweet thing bound to the breeding bench. Kate’s tied her so her legs are bent, but even if they weren’t, she wouldn’t be able to reach the ground. She’s helpless, presented for a stallion at Kate and Price’s bidding.

Simon tries not to be impatient as he’s led forward. He’s secured to his own rig, so he won’t put too much of his weight on his partner. Price laughs as he shuffles from foot to foot, and Simon blows a restless snort through his nose. Kate runs a gentle hand down her girl’s spine when she shivers in response.

And then Price’s hand is back on his cock, guiding him, notching the head of his cock at her cunt and giving a sharp order to mount.

Simon doesn’t hesitate to thrust forward. She opens beautifully, gasp muffled behind a gag. Kate’s done a good job preparing her, but Simon is still big and he’s not interested in being gentle. He’s bottomed out three hard shoves, and then he’s going. He grits his teeth in his bit as he huffs and grunts, imagines she’s doing the same from the way her cries echo his.

Simon’s vaguely aware of Kate checking in with her girl. Whatever encouragement she whispers results in a tight squeeze that makes Simon’s eyes cross as his hips stutter and he cums. Price watches, arms crossed across his chest and nods. So Simon barely gives himself a moment to breathe before he’s back to his previous, near frantic pace.

She comes on his cock like that, once, then again when Kate presses a wand between her legs. The sensation startles a growled moan from Simon, but he doesn’t falter. He keeps riding her until she shakes through another orgasm with a whimper. She must signal something to Kate, because Price steps forward after that.

"Finish up," his handler growls, with a slap to Simon's ass. "You're wearing the poor girl out."

So Simon does. He gives her a few harsh thrusts before growling through a second climax, leaning his entire weight into the rig that holds him upright. He doesn't pull out until Price releases his harness and he can lean down to brush his lips over his play partner’s shoulder blade.

[phosphorus-noodles]

shhhh he's gotta focus.

(bonus under cut!)

SIKE it was from a demon!shane fic i am cringe but i am free and this stupid oneshot lives in my head rent free now it won't leave ���