#grian still hasn’t finished the back

[skygoldart]

Cod Grian Cosplay Build!

The fish man himself, season 10 Grian!

Reference Sketch

Some notes:

I always end up changing somethings from the reference when making the actual outfit, although I stayed pretty close it it this time.

I initially drew him with a handlebar mustache and goatee to mimic the whiskers of a fish, however I switched to a fluffier mustache beard to match the guy from Frozen.

I also opted for my turtleneck shirt over the red sweater+collar to go for more of a fisherman vibe

Since Grian is usually drawn with parrot wings, I wanted to call back to that with red yellow and blue feathers on the bobbers.

The tail and fins

I wanted to lean into the “fish”er man design and gave him fish fins and a tail.

It’s design is based on a cod fish with striped fins based on the feathers of an osprey

To make it, I drew the tail pattern on a large piece of paper, cut it out, cut each section out of the respective fabric times two, sewed the two sides together, and lastly filled it with a ton stuffing.

The tail is heavy, but it’s fun to wack people with it.

The fins for the arms and beanie are made in a similar way, each hand sewn onto the beanie/bracers once stuffed.

The Overalls

I had originally planned for him to be wearing waders, but wanted to make the outfit more wearable for everyday wear without overheating. So I opted for some brown corduroy overalls instead.

To add a “wet” look to each pant leg, I briefly dipped each one into some black fabric dye before rinsing and drying.

The green pixels on his skin look like they could be kelp or patches so I decided to go with the latter and dug through my scrap fabric to find these green pieces.

I embroidered the edge of each piece with a unique stitch and placed them randomly on each leg.

The snails!

Of course we can’t forget about the snails

There are three snails for this project with two more eventually on the way (a plush pink snail, and a plush brown snail).

I made the clay blue snail first with polymer and attached tie tacks to the underside so I can use it like a pin and stick it anywhere on my clothes.

Same goes for the pink worm snail which is also made of clay.

The blue plush snail is based on a pattern from Etsy by willowynn with some slight modifications, mainly to the eyes/feelers, and doubling the size.

Facial hair

This was one of the parts I was the most excited about for this cosplay and the only part I didn’t do myself. I commissioned @basic-amoeba to make a custom ventilated beard, styled and everything. This part turned out so good!

Some final notes for this project

This cosplay took from Feb 20 to March 15th to complete since I was so determined to finish it before Grian changed his skin. Haha look at me now. He still hasn’t changed it.

Not pictured (cause why can I only add 10 photos 😭) is the mending book with a fish hook I made using scrap faux leather, cardboard, and some cut printer paper. I painted in galactic the word mending and sprayed the whole thing in my “enchanting” spray paint (a blue to purple iridescent glitter spray paint)

A small fun backstory to the fishing rod:

My grandpa is an experienced fisherman and has dozens of fishing poles. When I talked about this project with him, he brought me out to his workshop and pulled down the dustiest fishing rod there. He told me he had fished this fishing rod from a lake one day with the line and bait still attached. Can’t get anymore accurate to Minecraft fishing than that lol.

Obligatory cosplay photo:

[oh-snapperss]

creature comfort

“We won’t win today,” Cleo says, and Etho knows she’s right. Knows their time has been running out since the first secret was whispered to them in voices all too familiar, has known that this day was coming, has known that all this time, it’s not been a question of if–it’s been a question of when. 

They’re going to die today. Distantly, Etho wonders if the domesticity they’ve worked for will die with them, or if it will follow them back home. 

Will his home ever be a physical place again? Home is where the hearth is, where the warmth is, where the world is shut out and it’s just the three of them. 

Home is where Cleo is. 

“That’s alright,” Etho smiles instead of voicing all of that, wishing, of all things, that he didn’t still have that awful cough that Cleo had insisted he rest over for a few days. “We’ll be alright.” 

They’ll be dead–and what are the dead, if not alright? The dead don’t have coughs, or pain, or fear. They’re just dead. Etho thinks he might not mind it so much, this time. He’s finally learned to spend his time wisely, and he’s built a home no flaming arrow could ever take down. 

Just by the cow pen, there’s a stupid little porch Etho had built a while back. They’re nowhere near it now, but every night he and Cleo had watched the sunset, drank a final cup of tea, and turned in to sleep over gossip and giggles only they could draw from each other this time ‘round. Before, Bdubs had made him laugh like that–now, Etho wonders how long before there’s a sword at his throat. 

Even so, while Cleo laughs and watches him set Scar’s porch on fire, Etho hopes he might have the privilege of watching the sunset from the porch one last time. He’d survive the day, if only for another sunset with Cleo. 

BANG. 

Tango’s gone–Etho knows it in his heart. Surely he should feel an ache for him, should ask how he went. Instead, it’s easy to accept it. 

The wardens are fun. That’s all they are, now. Before, they had been terrors, then the answer to a desperate prayer he and Grian had made. The carnage of those terrifying beasts feel muted compared to before, but with the wind flying through his hair, the elated cries of Cleo in front of him, Etho can’t care. Not this time. They lead two clear to the middle of the server before they’ve decided to finish having their fun, and Cleo’s just stepping up some rocks when she says it. 

“You’re my favorite, you know that? You’ve always been my favorite.” 

He does know, he does know now. He’d guessed it that first sunset, when Cleo sat down with a giddy smile to recount their day. He’d thought it, when she’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders after his failures and rested her head on his shoulder without a word. He’d lived it, when she had shouted that she would kill him if he tried to kill her–but was reassured otherwise that night on the porch again, with the curse ebbing from his bones. 

Today, he knows it in the blatant rebellion against what’s supposed to be the end, the dread, the fear. 

“You’re mine too.” Etho grins back, and knows that they’ll see his smile even through the mask–knows they’ve come to recognize it in his tone and way his eyebrows scrunch together. . 

They wind up in the sky base with Grian–Grian, who hasn’t quite reached the same conclusion they have. Etho knows by the shadows under his eyes he won’t give up, that he’ll fight clear to the end. Once upon a season, Etho had been the same. 

Not this time. Never this time. 

Around ten minutes to sunset, Etho and Cleo set down their dripstone and bows, and sit on the edge of the cobblestone wall. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back to our base for it this time,” Etho jokes, nudging his shoulder into Cleo’s. Cleo laughs, a carefree thing, and wrinkles her nose. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for it any time, if we’re being honest.” She leans back, one hand half behind her to support her weight. 

“I know,” Etho says. He brings his leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Behind them, cobblestone is placed–Grian, ever the survivor. “It was nice, though.” 

“It was nice!” Cleo beams. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Etho hums. “‘s not so bad. Dying with a friend.” 

“It won’t be,” Cleo agrees. 

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Etho’s never died like this–he’s died at the flames of an arrow shot while protecting his king, he’s died in fights after his allies were killed. Hell, he’s died hand in hand with a soulmate hellbent on killing him now–but he’d been in a frenzy then, a rage-induced thing meant to burn up the place that had never been a true home to them. 

He thinks he won’t mind dying with someone. 

The sun sets in brilliant hues of orange and pink, and they sit together, this final tradition not lost in the face of inevitability. Just as the first star twinkles, Grian comes over, hoisting them back to their feet. 

“They’re coming,” he says. 

It’s time. 

They shoot a few arrows, break some dripstone, all to no avail–but that’s alright, he’s got Cleo, and they’ve got him. 

But oh, the games are never kind, are they? Etho slips, his foot landing weird somehow–and he’s whistling through the air towards the ground at a speed too fast. It knocks the breath from his lungs when he lands–does he hit the clutch? Stars, he doesn’t actually know, because there’s arrows shot at him, shouts of glee from the hunters, and suddenly Etho’s not Etho, he’s just prey–and prey only know to do one thing. 

Run. 

Etho flies forward, dragging his sword out. There’s not many safe spaces left on the server–stars, Grian had even mentioned their base was but a crater in the hill. 

But the porch… the porch was intact. Supposedly. 

He enderpearls, and enderpearls again, and it’s still not enough. The screams behind him are closer, and closer, and then further–and oh, Etho knows it’s time. He’s dead, he’s gone, he’ll be but a wisp of the wind in a few minutes whether he likes it or not. 

And he won’t die by Cleo. 

Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Oh, he’d not meant it to be like this. He’d meant to die with a smile, right by her side–just as they were meant to die by his. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the plan. A sob claws its way up his throat, the beginnings of the blind panic he’d never meant to feel tonight. He’s going to die, alone, without the comfort of his Cleo. 

Home. He wants to go home. 

Home is in the air, a hundred blocks above him. He’ll never make it–but he can make it back to the porch, the one place of peace. Now, he can feel the twinge of something broken in his ankles, probably from the fall–and the cuts, the bruises, the blood scent thick in his nose. He’s so tired. 

He wants to die at home, he wants to die at home. 

“Oh, he sounds like a wounded animal… let’s put him out of his misery.” A voice said. Cold fear grips Etho’s heart, and he stumbles forward–the porch is in sight!

Let him die at home. Let him die at home. 

A shadow fills his vision, and Etho’s not even had time to lift his shield before blinding pain fills his stomach, and it’s over. 

He’s not allowed that creature comfort of dying at home. 

[immeasurablesaladagere]

A Wildcard is Active - Team Self-Sufficient

Series - A Wildcard is Active

-----

Words: 4973

Summery: By a stroke of bad luck, both Gem and Joel end up as children and are determined not to let anyone know. There are reds about, it’s not safe for them to be alone without an adult to protect them. When they run into trouble in a cave, they're forced to ask the Bamboozlers for help.

-----

On the first morning of the fourth session, Joel allowed himself to stay in bed just a bit longer and take in the snail-less peace and quiet. No more running about constantly looking over his shoulder for deadly flying mollusks, just a nice easy doze in the Charger, living the life.

Gem was already up and about, cooking breakfast by the smell of it. Somehow session three had been a breeze for her and now she was going around being all productive. Showoff. 

“Joel! Breakfast is ready!”

As much as he wanted to roll over and doze for another thirty minutes, the start of the session would wait for no man. They only had a short time before the next wildcard activated for the week and they needed to pound back as many calories as possible if they wanted to keep up with whatever craziness Grian had in store this time.

So out of bed and into their makeshift kitchen he went, rubbing the sleep crusties out of his eyes. “Quit yer yelling, what if I’d been sleepin’ still?”

“Then you needed to get up anyway. Wildcard rolls in an hour, up and ‘attem!” Gem said with the chipperness of someone who hadn’t spent the last week fearing for her life, and slid two plates of eggs, toast, and bacon onto the table.

“Yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say, you dirty snail-lover.”

“Hey! Who made you breakfast?”

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Joel shovelled a forkful of bacon into his mouth and groaned. “S’really good.”

Gem chuckled. “Well don’t make it weird! Maybe I shouldn’t be cooking for you.”

“No, please, I’ll be eating nothing but bread all season.” He whined. “Seriously, this is great, thanks Gem.”

“Well of course! We’re going to need the energy!” She finished her glass of milk in one go and got up to start putting her dishes away because holy moly, she ate fast. “What’s on the to-do list for today?”

There were about a million answers to that question, seeing as no one got anything done last week. Diamonds, finish the base, make traps, go to the nether; but of course what they’d like to do didn’t matter so much as what they could do once the wildcard hit. “Dunno. Some mining, maybe hit the nether if Grian hasn’t rigged it to explode or sumfing. I need redstone and gunpowder.”

“Ooo, yeah, the nether sounds good. I don’t know if they’ve found the fortress yet, so maybe there’s still some potion stuff left.” 

The moment the last piece of toast was in his mouth Gem was snatching his plate out from under him and dumping it in the sink.

“Oi!”

She stuck her tongue out at him. 

Well, might as well get started on the list. “If gonna try to finish the base while nofing’s going on, head’s up for falling deepslate in here!”

“If you get rock dust in my kitchen I’ll put you on yellow!” She called after him.

The base was coming along nicely, it just needed a few finishing touches. Trim here and there, polish the windows, sand off a few edges. He grabbed his tools from the starter base and climbed up onto the hood of the car. Maybe he could even finish before the session started.

-

“Joel! Wildcard!”

He could not. Joel sighed and set down his tools as the colourful ellipses appeared in his vision and Gem came outside. They had to be prepared for anything, and it was much safer to find out the gimmick together. They both braced for the worst. Floor is lava? Levitation? Permanent nighttime? More snails?

A Wildcard is Active.

The two of them did a hasty once-over of themselves. 

“Hearts and hunger are the same,” Gem reported.

“No effects, and you’re not dying right now so no floor-is-lava. Darn, I was hoping for that one.” He didn’t feel any different, and nothing around them seemed immediately strange. It was almost more unsetting that he couldn’t pinpoint the twist right away. 

“You were hoping I would die?”

“No, no, but you know what I mean. I was so sure that’d be one of them!” He patted himself down. “I don’t feel weird. Do I look weird?”

“More than normal? No.” She smirked.

“Wow, rude!”

He was about to accept that maybe Grian had miraculously decided to do something low-key this session. Maybe it was nether-based or mob-based and wouldn’t be nearly as big a deal as the murder snails and the hunger. Sure, it would put a mild spanner in the works but they would live. But then he felt it. His entire body suddenly felt… buzzy. Like pins and needles all over.

“Um, actually… Maybe I do feel a bit weird…” 

Gem shifted from foot to foot, rubbing a hand up and down her arms. “You feel it too? What is that?” Her eyes widened. “Oh my— Joel, you’re smoking!”

“I know that Gem, but I’m married so—“ Oh. Sure enough, his arms were giving off a faint purple mist, and now that he noticed it, so was Gem. “Woah, you’re smoking too! What on earth is this? Gah, I hate this feeling!”

In seconds the smoke went from tiny wisps to thick fog that surrounded him completely, and he could just barely make out Gem disappearing behind her own cloud as the smoke consumed him and everything went dark.

Then a moment later he was back again, lying face down on the car and tingly all over. He groaned. Was it weakness? Why did he feel like he was just tossed around by a ravager? He went to sit up and was rocked by a wave of dizziness. “Ugh, oh dear…” He mumbled, and then slowly his words caught up to his spinny brain. 

Something was wrong with his voice. It was higher, and weirder. 

“Joel!?” Came a squeaky cry from the ground, one that sounded eerily familiar. 

He shuffled forward to the edge of the base and oh, that was a long way down. Standing in a fun-size suit of armour and using a sword much too big for her to prop herself up was Gem. Tiny Gem. She looked no older than seven, maybe eight at the absolute most.

“Gem! What’s happened to you?” He called down, and yeah, his voice was definitely wrong. 

“Me? What about you? You’re teeny!”

He took a proper look at himself and his new tiny body, squishy arms, and stubby hands. Oh, this was terrible. 

“Are we all kids? Is that the twist!? That’s horrible!” How were they supposed to survive like this!?

Gem fumbled to pull out her spyglass and looked across the field to their neighbours. “No, not everyone! Tango’s still big over there, but Etho and Bdubs are little!”

“So only some of us? And we both get made into stupid toddlers? That’s not fair!” He pouted.

Their communicators were suddenly flooded with messages, mostly panicked gibberish from everyone who had been baby-fied and gushing from everyone who hadn’t. From the looks of it every group had at least one normal adult; between Scott, Cleo, Pearl, and Impulse there were three, except for them.

“This is bad, right?” Gem asked nervously, “There’s yellows and reds and if they know we don’t have someone protecting us… what if they kill us?” Joel hadn’t even thought of that. “Come down from there, we gotta find a place to hide!”

He went to climb down, but stopped when he saw the steep drop down the windshield to the ground. Suddenly his stomach was twisting into knots and he couldn’t bring himself to slide down. “Uh…”

“What’s wrong?” Gem asked with a look of growing worry, “Are you… scared?”

Joel’s ears burned. “N-no! Just, um…” So it was messing with their heads as well.

Gem seemed to understand, and careful to stay out of sight from their nosy neighbours, she crept around to the front of the car and built up a few blocks. When she got close enough, she held out her arms for him to slide into. “I’ll catch you.”

Absolutely not. He would rather die right then and there. “I don’t need your help!” 

Gem rolled her eyes. “Sure you don’t, now come on! Before someone sees us!” She hissed.

Without much of a choice, Joel took a deep breath and pushed himself down the hood of the car with a squeak and landed safely in Gem’s arms. Once he was safely back on solid ground, she immediately began to manhandle him.

“C’mon, c’mon!” She dragged him by the hand to their starter base and to his dismay, she was indeed much taller than he was, and she was able to pull him like he was a bundle of feathers. “Grab as much food and stuff as you can.” She said, and began rifling through their chests.

“Wha— okay, where’re we going?” The chests were so hugehe almost couldn’t reach into the bottom and he had to stand on his tip-toes to reach a pile of bread.

“We’re gonna hide underground. No one’s gonna wanna come look for us down there.” Gem said, like she’d thought the whole thing through already. She dropped a stack of torches and loose coal into her inventory.

“For all week? That’s a long time.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why we’re getting all this stuff. We can come back up for food if we really gotta, but we can’t let anyone know that we’re both kids. That’d be super bad.”

Joel snickered. “You’re talkin’ funny.”

She scoffed, offended. “Am not! And don’t be mean to your elders!”

“You are not my elder! Look at you!”

“Uh-huh, and what does that make you? Look how small you are compared to me! You’re just a baby!” She teased, ruffling his hair.

“Oi, you—“

“—Gem? Joel? Are you here?”

They froze. Bdubs. And where there was Bdubs, there was Tango, and Tango was red. Gem hurried them to the wall and dug into it, boxing them in. They both held their breaths as multiple sets of feet walked around their base.

“Awe, they’re not here.” Bdubs.

“Do you think they’re kids, too?” Etho.

“Oh, I wanna see kid-Joel so bad! I bet he’d be real tiny.”

“C’mon Dubs, let’s go find the others.”

The footsteps walked away, and they both let out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s dig down.” Gem whispered. She lit a torch and the little box they were crammed in filled with light, which he liked a lot more than the dark. Joel tried his best to stay out of her way as she began to dig a tunnel down, and he was put on torch-duty, keeping it lit all the way down.

After what felt like forever, they finally hit a cave. It was really dark, which was both good and bad. Good because it meant no one had been there yet, and bad because Joel was very quickly learning his little kid brain didn’t like the dark very much.

“I don’t hear any monsters.” Gem said, peering into the hole, “Gimme the torches.” She took one more look around, then scooted down from their safe ledge into the cave. The torch in her hand lit up the walls around them just enough for him to see just how much further the cave went. It was already huge, but it seemed even huger because they were so small. The empty void made his stomach feel fluttery. He took out his sword and gripped it tight.

“Put the torches down, Gem! So the mobs don’t spawn!” He said urgently. Gem turned around and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re really jumpy, huh?” She smiled.

“I-I’m not! We just have to be careful. What— w-what if mobs do more damage ‘cause we’re tiny? Didjya ever think of that, Ms. Not— uh, Afraid?”

It was meant to be a jab but she just started giggling. “This is adorable. You look so pouty!” 

She was so busy laughing at his expense she didn’t notice the creeper emerging from the darkness and scuttling towards her.

“Gem, watch out!” 

She whirled around just in time to pull up her shield before the creeper blew up in her face and sent her staggering back into the wall. 

“Are you okay!?” He called, timidly crouching over the ledge. 

Gem chuckled nervously, brushing off some of the stone bits that got on her clothes and hair. “Yep, all good! Maybe the torches are a good idea…”

As Gem placed down torches he cautiously climbed down into the cave, keeping a sweaty hold on the handle of his shield. He hated just how blummin’ nervous he felt. He shouldn’t have cared if it was dark or if there might be monsters lurking around the corner, but suddenly the thought of leaving the light and Gem’s side was the worst thing ever. Stupid kid brain, stupid kid body. 

“Okay! We’re okay, we’re fine.” She chirped, “We’ve got torches, an’ our swords and shields, we’ll be fine.” It sounded like she was trying to tell herself that just as much as she was telling him, which strangely did make him feel better. At least we wasn’t the only scaredy-cat, even if Gem was better at hiding it than him. “Let’s go find some iron. We might even be deep enough to find diamonds!”

Right. Diamonds, iron, focus on that. “We’re gonna be so rich, Gem. All those silly fools up there are gonna be freakin’ out about being stupid babies and we’re gonna have full diamond!”

“There, that’s the spirit. Do you— um...” She offered her hand to him with a small smile. “You can be our shield, and I’ll protect us with the sword. How’s that sound?”

Joel scowled at her hand and reluctantly, to the death of his pride, took it. This was the worst day. He was going to have a talk with Grian when this was all over. The jerk was probably an adult as well, knowing him and the stupid universe. “Fine. But only for teamwork.”

“Teamwork.” Gem agreed, and they descended into the darkness.

-

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Gem asked, throwing a few more loose pieces of wood into their little campfire.

It wasn’t. Sure, the dark still wasn’t very nice and they hadn’t had much luck with diamonds, but their trek through the cave got them a lot of iron, nearly a stack between them. “I wasn’t worried. I knew we were gonna be fine the whole time.” 

“Uh-huh. And when you screamed like a girl ‘cause you saw a spider you were totally gonna take it down, right?”

He nodded, dumping as much raw iron as he could fit into the furnace. “Yep, you just got their first. Silly Gem, stealin’ my kills.”

Even though he’d been trying not to think about it, he appreciated what Gem was doing. Both of their minds were being affected by the wildcard, but it was embarrassingly obvious that he had it worse, probably because he seemed to be the ‘younger’ of the two of them. And all the while dealing with her own nervousness and keeping them safe, she was talking to him like a normal person and keeping him steady. The good-natured ribbing kept everything feeling light when the scary cave sounds started to get to him, and she wasn’t being overbearing or babying him. It was almost like session one again; a normal day, just ever so slightly shorter than two blocks tall.

“Here, pork chop’s ready.” Gem passed him a stick with a cut of cooked pork chop skewered on it. Even without any seasonings, it smelled delicious.

“Fanks, Gem.” He devoured the whole thing in a few large bites, much to Gem’s disgust. One of the few upsides to being so small was that they were going through much less food than usual, and one pork chop was all he needed to feel properly full again. 

“So,” He burped, “We’re really gonna stay down here all week?”

Gem nodded and started making something on the crafting table. “Thas’ the plan.”

“Aw, but that’s a bit boring, isn’t it? I wanna have some fun too…” He kicked a little stone away and the clacking echoed off the walls.

“Do you wanna have fun, or do you wanna stay alive?”

How could she be so tiny and still act like such a mum? “Stay alive, I guess.” He pouted.

She turned around and laid a thin wool sleeping bag on the floor with the tiniest pillow Joel had ever seen. “That’s what I thought. I’ll take first watch. I didn’t bring enough wool, so sorry it’s not very good...” 

There was no way he could be upset about the sleeping bag, not when she was making that face. If they were on the surface Joel was sure Gem could get them whatever they wanted just by giving someone puppy eyes. “No, no, it’s fine! It looks super comfy. In fact,” He crawled over to it and nestled inside to show her. Stones dug into his back. “See? I could fall asleep right now.” He made an exaggerated yawn.

Gem chuckled. “I ‘precicate it, but you don’t hav’ta lie. Your pudgy little face doesn’t hide anything.”

“Going to sleep now!” He yelled, turning over and pressing his face into the pillow. “Honk-shoo, honk-shoo, see? Sleeping.”

“Have a good sleep, Joel.”

-

“Joel, get up, get up, come on!”

Joel barely had time to remember where he was before he was on his feet and they were running. His half-asleep legs stumbled to catch up and Gem was half-dragging him, and between his bleary eyes and the unlit cave he could barely see where they were going.

“Gem, what on earth— what’s going on!? What are we runni—“ Two arrows whizzed past his head much too close for comfort, and that woke him up.

“There were so many, I—I couldn’t kill them all!” Gem exclaimed. They took a hard left at a fork and two more zombies joined the chase from the right. There were at least six mobs behind them, probably more. There was no time to pull out their shields, they’d surely be overwhelmed instantly, which meant they’d just have to find a place to hide.

“Gem this is bad, this is so bad!”

Gem cried out as an arrow lodged itself in her shoulder, and then another. “I-I know, I know, keep running!”

They rounded another corner and skidded to a halt. Dead end. Joel raised his shield to catch another arrow but the mobs were getting close fast. They were dead. 

He yelped as Gem grabbed him by the scruff and pushed him into a corner. “Ow! Gem, what—?” She began haphazardly surrounding him in cobblestone, and Joel’s stomach sank. “Wait, G-Gem, what are you— what are you doing?”

“I’m low, my shield’s almost gone,” She panted, and her splitting shield took another hit, this time from the zombie at the head of the pack gnawing viciously at the wood. “Stay in here, I’ll come back for you, okay?”

“Gem, no!” His heart was pounding. He could only see a sliver of Gem’s scared but resigned expression through the gap now. More zombies caught up, groaning and forcing her back. “Gem—!”

The last block slid into place and he was plunged into darkness just as the message rang out.

Geminitay was slain by a zombie

-

This wildcard is a nightmare.

Jimmy watched, exhausted, as Lizzie tried to coach Scar up a tree for the third time. While a good “parent” might have stopped it by now, falling out of a tree was about the safest thing they had been up to over the last twenty-four hours. If all he had to do was pass out snacks for regen every time Scar fell, that was fine by him.

He truly believed Grian’s games simply hated him personally. Why else would he be the only adult in his team? The yellow life, the canary, the one who attracted death, keeping two children safe. What was the universe thinking? And of course in all the nonsense he hardly had any time to think about how he was going to get his next kill. Lizzie had been trying to help, but most of her ideas ended up drifting in a fantastical or hypothetical Jimmy-is-suddenly-amazing-at-pvp scenario and hadn’t come to fruition. 

“Jimmy, look! I made it!” 

Sure enough, Scar had finally managed to clamber up next to Lizzie on the branch, smiling proudly down at him.

“Wow, look at that! Don’t fall please, I’m running out of bread!”

“I won’t, I’m being very careful.” Scar waved him off, then wobbled and caught himself. “See? Careful.”

“Mm-hm.”

Bzz-bzzt.

Oh? What’s gone on now? He pulled out his communicator.

Geminitay was slain by a zombie

<Smajor1995: ???>

<Grian: red/yellow kill??>

<BDoubleO100: gem’s baby I kno it>

Huh. Gem and Joel had been missing for the entire session so far, and for her to die to a zombie of all things, she must have been seriously caught off-guard. Or small, came the thought, but even then Joel probably would have been looking after her, what with his whole “family” bit. Was he seriously being a better parent than Joel right now? He smiled to himself. What an idea.

And so, continuing his streak of great parenting, he went back to supervising. 

“Wo-OAH!”

And down Scar went, taking Lizzie with him and hitting the ground with a thump. 

“Owwww, Scaaar! That hurt!” Lizzie whined.

“Sorry, sorry! I was tryin’a get higher!”

Jimmy just sighed and fished two more loaves of bread from his inventory. “Come on now, no arguing, just take your bread.”

Thankfully even though Lizzie and Scar had proven themselves to be quite the tiny squabblers so far, the snacks seemed to settle them enough to just sticking their tongues out at one another and throwing crumbs. It was in the middle of their picnic when he heard someone yelling his name, and he turned to see Gem running towards him. Sure enough, she was a kid maybe the same age as Lizzie, and she looked all out of sorts.

“Gem! Where’ve you been, eh? What’s going on?”

“Y-You gotta— you—“ She gasped, out of breath and stumbling over her words, “You— we need help!”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “What? Slow down, who’s ‘we’? You and Joel?”

Gem nodded quickly. “We— we were in a cave and I was s’posed to protect him b-but I couldn’t an’ there w-were so many mobs an’—!“

“Hey, hey, woah, easy.” He knelt down in front of her and put his hands on her small shoulders. This was still so weird. “Deep breaths, ready? In…” She took a harsh breath in. “Out.” She released it. “Now, tell me what’s happened.”

Gem swallowed hard and Jimmy swore he could see the faintest hint of tears forming in her eyes. “Me and Joel are b-both kids, a-and I said we should hide ‘cause we had no adult to protect us so we went into a cave. I-It was my idea an’ I was s’posed to keep him safe, b-but there were so many mobs and—and I di-died and now Joel’s trapped down there and it’s all my fault!” She blurted, and a few stray tears fell down her cheeks.

Oh boy. “Well, that is a lot, isn’t it?” He said stupidly, and then rushed to correct himself when Gem’s face scrunched up like she was about to start bawling, “B-But don’t worry, we’ll get this all sorted, yeah? Where is he? I’ll help you rescue him.”

“In a cave under our base. I gotta show you, w-we dug it ourselves.” She sniffled, collecting herself. Thank admins.

“Alright, well…” He looked over to Lizzie and Scar, who were watching with wide eyes. “Lizzie, I put you in charge. Go back home with Scar and play some board games or something until I get back. Or go play with the neighbours, whatever, just something safe, alright?”

Lizzie got a look of genuine seriousness about her and nodded, and the two of them ran off towards the mountain.

Jimmy offered his hand to Gem. “Alright, lead the way.”

-

The staircase down into their cave was a tight squeeze, but once they were in the mouth of the cave opened up considerably. For an undiscovered cave it was very large and, other than a few of Gem’s stray torches, very dark.

“Jimmyyy!” Gem urged, “Hurry, this way!”

“Right, right, hurrying!”

He heard the mobs before he saw them, and there were a lot. At least two skeletons, a handful of zombies, and a spider. No wonder they’d been overwhelmed, even he was going to need to be careful about this. He motioned for Gem to stay back and brought up his shield, steeling himself with a breath for courage. Why Gem came to him with this was beyond him, but there was no turning back now. Joel needed him. Heck, Gem needed him. He peered around the corner where the pack was clustered around a cobblestone box and noticed a single creeper mixed into the bunch. Bingo. 

“Hey, big stupid mobs! Come and get me!” He shouted, and the entire group turned to come towards him. The creeper scuttled faster, pushing its way to the front, exactly what he was hoping for. He hid behind his shield as they all clustered together and the creeper hissed to life.

BOOM

The only surviving skeleton was easy to cut down with his sword, and he let out a huff of relief as the bones clattered to the floor. He did it. Holy moly he did it.

“Joel!” Gem rushed past him to the cobblestone box.

He helped her break away the stone, and inside the box with not so much as a torch sat Joel, who was maybe even younger than Scar, curled in on himself and shaking like a cold strider. A tiny part of Jimmy, the tiniest, ugliest part, whispered in his ear how easy it would be to get a dark green kill right now. How simple.

No. Not like this.

“I-I don’ l-like this wildcard…” Joel whined, before bursting into tears.

“Oh Joel, buddy, it’s alright…” Jimmy tried to comfort. His hands hovered uncertainly. A quick glance at Gem told him she wasn’t doing much better and was just barely keeping it together. He needed to come up with something quickly. 

Without stopping to consider the possible awkward consequences, he did the first thing he could think of. He reached down and scooped Joel into his arms.

“Hey, shhh, you’re alright, you’re okay… shhh. Uncle Tim’s gotcha now, everything’s gonna be A-OK.” He hushed, letting every soothing phrase he could think of tumble out of his mouth like alphabet soup. He threw in a little gentle rocking, pet Joel’s hair, anything he could think of until finally the shaking and crying began to settle. The shoulder of his jacket was soaked through with snot and tears by the time Joel properly came back around, but that was fine. He would just have to dunk it in the river or something later.

Joel sniffled and sat up slightly, using one hand to scrub at his face while the other stayed firmly clutched in his shirt. “Ugh… sorry about that, Jim. This whole kid ‘fing sucks…”

“…Joel? Are you okay?” Gem mumbled, face flushed and eyes puffy.

Joel thought for a second, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just got a bit scary there, y’know? Stupid baby brain didn’ like the dark.”

“M’so sorry…” She warbled, sounding on the edge of tears again, and Jimmy had to put a stop to that right away.

“Nope, no more crying!” He announced, maybe a bit too loudly, “Everything’s alright now. You did the best you could, Gem. See? Joel’s still on six lives because of you.”

“But I—“

“No buts! You did a good job protecting Joel, and Joel was very brave for staying safe down here by himself. Can we all agree?”

“Haha, butts.” He heard Joel mutter against his shirt. Jimmy counted that as a win.

“Perfect. Now we’re all going to get out of this cave, and you two can spend the night with the Bamboozlers, how does that sound?”

“Like a sleepover?” Gem tilted her head like a puppy, and now that they weren’t in a crisis, man, these guys were cute. 

“Yeah, like a sleepover. C’mon now, I’ve got to get back to Lizzie and Scar before they destroy the server.” He went to set Joel down, only for him to cling tighter and wrap his legs around his torso like a koala. Jimmy was happy to keep carrying him; if he was being honest he expect Joel to start thrashing to be let go the moment he came back to himself, but if he still needed it then Jimmy certainly wasn’t going to judge. Plus, one day it was going to be an amazing story to hold over his head. Maybe not today, but someday.

“So,” Joel said, a cheeky smile on his face as they started up to the surface, “‘Uncle Tim’, huh?”

Jimmy wordlessly reached up and pushed Joel’s head back against his shoulder. “Hush.”

[angeart]

I am trying to be a patient anon and not send too much before you finish your Mimic/Juni rambles before asking for more rambles (I love him, he did A Big Bad but I love him)

but you called attention to it so what happened to Scar's ear?? D:

(honestly wasn't sure if I should ask you or Link cuz its Link's art but I saw your post first this morning so.... :x)

-🎀

HELLO there is no need to hold back and be patient <33 I love seeing you in my asks and always get excited! Also also also! So happy to hear you love our Juni even though he did Big Bad. I promise the main Mimic Arc Rambles Part II will have a snapshot of what happens to him after all this. 

Anyway! For now, to answer your question about the feather earring!

Some time after reuniting (after the whole Juni thing), Scar and Grian find a cave with a hot-spring, where they take shelter for a little while. Things happen, and somewhere along the lines, Scar asks Grian to mark him in some way. (Scar already marked Grian—) 

He says: Show the world I’m yours.

And so Grian does the avian thing. He touches his wings, willingly and deliberately, without the intent to harm them—something that hasn’t happened in so long—and he picks a nice-looking feather. And he gifts it to Scar. To say that yes, they’re connected. That they belong to each other. (And oh, how much it means for Scar to have access to this part of Grian; to be given something so monumental, something others are willing to kill for, yet they’re not allowed to have it.)

At first, Scar tucks it behind his ear, because he has no other way to keep it on him and have it safe and on display (something they can afford for now, in the privacy of their little cave). He checks with Grian, to make sure if that’s okay, and… Honestly, it’s complicated. 

Tucking a small snippet of our mini-rp about this below the cut <3 (but if you’re interested only in what happens to Scar’s ear after, feel free to skip that!)

RP snippet:

Scar

"Is this okay?" he asks, a tad timid with a big, bashful smile. "I mean like, am I supposed to wear it?" 

It's a loaded question, he knows. Not only is it a public display of their relationship, but it's a public display of a bright violet feather, and Scar knows how troubling that can be for Grian to show off, so he can only imagine the complicated nature of having his own portion of that for show. (He thinks of the hunters and their bejeweled weapons, feathers tied to them in boast. It makes his fingers twitch slightly, aching for his claws.)

(Mournfully, he finds himself wishing this was Hermitcraft (a thought he tries to avoid), and he could wear it proudly to show off to his friends. That Grian is his and he is Grian's.)

-

Grian

Grian waits until Scar pulls away, content to stay pressed close to him. But then Scar presents a question, and Grian's face burns, eyes flicking up to bask in the sight of the feather behind Scar's ear. "I— I um—" he stammers. He likes having it on display, and all the implications of it. It makes something in his chest purr with happy warmth. But— Is Scar supposed to wear it? Grian's never done anything like this before. He actually doesn't know.

His fingers reach, but he doesn't touch the tucked feather. Instead, his fingertips brush Scar's earlobe, and he wonders how wonderful it would feel to see Scar proudly wear the feather as an earring.

But then the reality crashes in. Grian's fingers tremble and pull away, and he swallows thickly. His eyes are big and vulnerable, with a touch of deep-rooted fear, when they find Scar's again. "I—" he stammers again, in a completely different pitch this time.

His wings slide off of Scar's back, reclaiming their spot behind Grian, making themselves smaller. (And yet. And yet they're still not as tightly pressed to his spine as they used to be.) 

He thinks of a bright spot of violet, permanently tied to Scar, on display. In a world where that particular brilliant shade is as good as a death sentence.

"I don't know," he finishes in an unsteady half whisper, heart hammering painfully in his chest.

-

Scar

Scar's ear flicks when touched, but the feather remains tucked where it is; he even twitches upward to make sure of it. He watches Grian fumble with his words and how his wings retreat, nervous and almost ashamed of their gorgeous hue. Scar finds that he really does not like that.

He meets Grian's eyes, steady even as his own are still red from shed tears. "Do you want me to?" Then, softer, serious. "I want to." His eyes flick downward, pondering his next words carefully before seemingly resolving to something. He looks back up and adds, unwavering. "Maybe dangerous, but... feels good. Feels… right."

-

Grian

Grian doesn't even have to consider Scar's question; he knows the answer instantly. Yes. Yes, he does want that, but—

He can't. He can't say that. He can't bear the implications, the possibilities. He can't stand the thought of making scar any more of a target than he already is.

He feels his eyes water as his heart is locked in this hopeless fight. Scar tells him he wants to do it, and that it feels right, and damn, Grian knows it feels right—it feels so, so horribly right for Scar to wear the feather on proud display.

And still. Grian's eyes close, sending tears tumbling down. His head dips as he shakes it no, suddenly so very afraid.

He doesn't want Scar to get hurt because of him. Because of this. Because of a silly, sentimental foolishness.

-

Scar

Scar pauses, heart aching at the display of complicated emotions that shower over Grian's face, shifting and moving until he lands on something all too close to despair and dips his head low.

Scar chews his lip, also dismayed by the reality they live in, before pulling his little avian in close again, pressing him to his chest where he can cry. 

"Maybe... just for now," he whispers, secure in their current privacy. "And we'll figure it out?"

--------

Eventually, after many talks and reassurances and sinking, fearful feelings, Scar ends up fashioning the feather into an earring. He already has one ear pierced, and easily uses that to have the feather on him. 

It’s a security risk, in a way. But Scar needs it, needs to be able to proudly proclaim that they belong to each other. That whoever might want Grian’s feathers would have to go through him first.

And they do. Go through him first.

There’s an incident where a hunter gets grasp of the feather and yanks it. (They want that feather <3) It takes the whole earring with it, sending a spike of pain through Scar.

There’s a lot of blood.

Scar doesn’t care.

All he cares about is the fact that this hunter now has Grian’s feather in his grasp, and he’s not meant to have that, he can’t, it doesn’t belong to him.

(He once promised Grian that nobody can have his wings, and that extends to this feather, too. To any part of Grian, really.) (And yet Grian gave himself over to Scar so fully, so willingly.)

And... yep. Scar goes a little feral. As a treat.

He takes that hunter down.

In the aftermath of it, he clutches the bloodied earring close to his chest, needing to feel it, to shield it, to make sure it’s his, nobody else has it, just him. He is determined to fiercely protect it, because of everything it means. And because Grian gave it to him.

Speaking of, Grian’s inconsolable. He’s very, very upset; this just adds to his fears that he’s only ever going to get Scar hurt. That nothing good comes from his feathers. That they’re just an omen bringing blood and death. (Something that’ll be reinforced later, too <3) 

He doesn’t want Scar to be in that firing line. He doesn’t want Scar to get any more hurt because of him. Not for a single feather. (Even if that single feather means everything.)

All he thinks about is that he was right— His feather did lead to Scar getting hurt. And it’s awful, and he feels sick, and guilty, and so very hopelessly, fearfully sad.

But Scar isn’t deterred. He doesn’t care; he’d willingly fight the whole world for this. (For Grian.) He stubbornly pierces his other ear, and it bleeds too, but it doesn’t matter. He puts the earring right back in. (Yep, this is how the earring swapped sides—)

Of course they talk about it. And it’s a mess. It’s even more complicated than before.

Scar ends up saying, “Grian, if it really makes you uncomfortable I’ll— I’ll keep it hidden, but if it’s only for my sake, then no. Please let me wear it.”

And… Well, Grian has no idea how to feel. 

He doesn’t want to put Scar in danger. But also, seeing that feather? Seeing Scar wear it? It reinstates everything they are to each other, every whispered, sobbed-out promise, every comforting touch and press of lips, every small, hard-fought laughter. 

Scar wearing the feather both soothes Grian immeasurably, and makes him sick to his stomach with dread.

But ultimately, he leaves the choice in Scar’s hands.

And Scar decides to wear it. (He’ll take down anyone who tries to touch it <3)

[definitelynotshouting]

all the words that i forgot to say | (a hunger au oneshot)

Summary:

Grian's wings rustle and shift behind him as he speaks; a soft, raspy susurrus of flexing feathers. Ruffle, smooth back out. Ruffle again; calami rising, spearing scarlet vanes through the air only to judder back down in a cascade of fluttering ripples.

It’s a foreign motion on him, and one that escapes translation entirely; Mumbo is still drawing the map behind these new, unconscious ticks Grian displays when he isn’t paying attention, and the effect is not unlike staggering at the bow of a ship cresting a surge. Stomach churning, queasy, the threat of a capsize hanging over their heads— somewhere between Grian’s abrupt disappearance from Evo and his miraculous, tentative return, he’d fractured into wholly unfamiliar fault lines.

The universe no longer quite makes sense. Grian no longer quite makes sense— although, really, when did he ever. All Mumbo can do now is hold steady course, and hope the rudder hasn’t broken out from underneath him.

Or: Grian has a question, and Mumbo stumbles through the answer.

HI GANG I LIED ABOUT THE WORDCOUNT IT HIT 3.1K LMAOOO

Happy first fic of the new year!! I worked super hard on this for yall since the next chapter of hunger au proper isnt finished yet, so enjoy this in the meantime!! As always, likes are appreciated, reblogs are FANTASTIC, and commentary in the tags or on ao3 will have me swearing my undying fealty to you on the battlefield. Thanks in advance for reading and reblogging, and i hope you enjoy the fic!!

[uhohbestie]

TAMN Outline

Since we're so close to the end of TAMN, I just wanted to share what Lock and my outline looks like, especially because neither of us ever used outlines for writing fic before this LOL

The only reason we have one for TAMN is because we were determined to finish this thing within a year of starting it and really wanted to post a chapter a week. Realistically, between work and irl and different timezones, there was no WAY we'd be able to keep up with a weekly posting schedule OR our self-imposed deadline if we were writing on the fly, so an outline was a good way to keep us on track.

(Details under the cut 'cause this got long af lmao)

SO FIRST OF ALL. We have quick chapter markers to refer to just to keep track of where we're at. The obvious ones are as follows:

🐈 Scar POV Chapters 🦜 Grian POV Chapters 🧟‍♂️ Some sort of significant zombie encounter that chapter 💦 Smut

I took this screenshot a WHILE back so Chapter 12 was actually split into 2 chapters, as was Chapter 14. So while the two emojis in Chapter 14 were meant to signify both Scar and Grian's POVs in that chapter, we ultimately just split it into a separate Scar chapter and a separate Grian chapter.

As for the other markers, this is what they mean at a glance:

✔️ Chapter is written ✔️✔️ Chapter has been edited by one person ✅ Chapter edited by both of us; Ready to Post 💯 Chapter has been posted to AO3

The last one isn't in the screenshot above, but is another one we use. And, ofc, if it doesn't have any of those markers beside it, it means the chapter hasn't been written yet.

Other than that, every chapter heading has not only the chapter number, but a reminder of where Scarian are, the time of day that chapter starts at, and how long of a walk/drive to their next destination remains. Plus, the very first point is always the current date and the weather (in Celsius 🍁) for the day. It looks something like this:

For a short chapter like Ch. 6 where not too much happens, the outline is just a handful of points. Also, we put a strike through things we skipped as we wrote when we felt they no longer fit the mood we were going for. (Basically, the outline is here as a guide and we adjust as needed for full creative freedom.)

Now the LINKS at the bottom lead to ANOTHER document where Lock and I's original conversations are sorted, in case we need to reference back to something we don't remember. That looks like something like this:

So when you click the link, there's a pop up that will take you directly to the original conversation about it located in another doc.

Basically, Lock and I had talked about TAMN for months before every writing it, so when I suggested making an outline, Lock was like "yeah, we basically have a skeleton already with how much we've talked about it". So what we did was, I copy-pasted EVERY conversation we had about TAMN into a Google Doc, and then Lock went through and SUMMARISED EVERYTHING in each conversation into The Main Points. After that, I went and put them into chronological order in a new doc which then became the outline we use today! 💫

Thus, when you click on a link from the outline, you get taken to the conversation summary, and if you scroll down past the summary you get to the actual conversation itself, minus our usernames/formatting/timestamps to make it easier to read at a glance:

And then, ofc, the further along we got in the fic, the more complicated the plot and the chapters got. So instead of short and sweet outlines with a link or two to old conversations, we had to come up with a lot of in between events that still somehow added to the plot and moved the story along to the main points we wanted to hit.

This was actually what took me the longest during outlining, and poor Lock kept going "JUST LEAVE IT BLANK, WE'LL FIGURE IT OUT AS WE GO" but I really wanted to have SOMETHING down just to give us a springboard to launch off of, because we had no idea if we'd have time WHILE writing to come up with anything.

(This continues on for more pages since we combined two chapters into one here, but this is the gist of what the outlines turned into per chapter as we got later and later in the fic LOL)

Turned out to be the right call, because it's saved our asses more than once when on a time-crunch! That said, there were a couple chapters where we DID in fact go "idk about what's in the outline, what if we do this instead?" and then do that because it Felt Right. So again, the outline was super helpful but not a hard and fast rule. (Though Lock and I had our fair share of "WHY DIDN'T YOU WRITE WHAT WAS IN THE OUTLINE"/"I FORGOR" moments that have been fun every step of the way 😂)

AAAND, I THINK THAT'S IT! THAT'S OUR OUTLINE! 🎉

Just wanted to make a post for it to document because it was such a novel experience, hahaha! Like I said earlier, neither Lock nor I ever used outlines before, even when writing fics together for other fandoms :')

I've got two completed longfics under my belt from before TAMN in my last fandom and I wrote those completely on the fly as well. Worked out just fine, but like. It took me 2-4 YEARS to finish the fics, and they were both MUCH shorter than TAMN is. 😅 Nothing wrong with that obviously, but it was a lot of fun to try something new and it felt incredible to be able to have a new chapter ready to go each week! ;w; 💜

We're almost done writing the fic and honestly idk what we're gonna do with all this free time once we've wrapped it up... time to come up with a new longfic ig LMAO

IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR, HOORAY! 🎊

Here's a little bonus for you--

From the time I went to a gun range and shot both a rifle (near the head) and a shotgun (the spray by the stomach) and took notes so that we could use it in our fic JHGFDSKJHDF THE CRAZY RESEARCH WE'VE BOTH DONE FOR TAMN I STG 😂😂😂😂😂

[paradoxlemonade]

Like a Flower in Bloom; chapter 3/3

Fic summary: Doc Monster is a many things: he's a tinkerer, a college graduate, a creeper hybrid, and a husband to his wonderful spouse, Ren. Most importantly, he is a father. And he would do anything to make his trans daughter Scarlet happy. Even if it means becoming a Buttercup Scout troop leader and herding a trio of middle school girls.

Chapter summary: Doc makes contact with the parents and the first troop meeting is held.

This is my @mcytblraufest fic, made in collaboration with my artist @watchmewhirl and beta-read my @raivaughn. You can find the masterpost for the art here.

Warnings: Grian's parents are doing their best but they're not the greatest (brief scene, nothing serious happens)

Ao3: Here!

First ; Previous

---

Scarlet gets Doc the phone numbers for Mumbo and Grian’s parents the next day and he’s able to reach out to them about the new troop. Mumbo’s dad already knows what he’s talking about and is excited that his daughter wants to try new things.

“She’s always been really shy, you know?” Xisuma Void says. “I’m glad your daughter reached out.” Doc can’t help but agree. The running joke among their family is that she collects introverted people like baseball cards, since she decides she likes someone and then doesn’t quit until they agree the two of them are friends. She takes after Ren in that regard, who hasn’t known an ounce of shame in his life.

Xisuma is personable to talk to and the call goes well.

Grian’s parents are another story. 

When they pick up, they don’t have the slightest clue what he’s talking about when he brings up the new Buttercup Scout troop that his daughter was starting and invited Grian to. He’s put on speaker phone so both of them can listen at the same time.

Mr. Vigil Penumbra makes an unsure sound. “And you say that your daughter—Scarlet, was it?—wants Grian to be a part of her troop?” He’s asked for clarification a few times, as if something about what Doc said is hard to believe.

Nevertheless: “Yes, that’s right. They met at school, and Scarlet put the offer out.”

“And how did you get our number?” he asks. 

Doc pinches the bridge of his nose. Never has he been so glad to be having a conversation over the phone instead of face to face. “I asked Scarlet to ask Grian for it, and then Scarlet passed it along to me. I’m still in the process of getting certified, so it’ll be about two weeks before we can start scheduling meetings. I just wanted to reach out to verify your interest and let you know what supplies you’ll need to get beforehand.”

Vigil chuckles, mostly to himself. “Ah, I’ll need to ask if Grian still has all her things, or if she got rid of them after her last troop.” He holds the phone away from himself and clears his throat. “Grian! Can you come downstairs?”

There’s a response of some kind that’s too far away for Doc to make out, and then the quiet knock of footsteps down wooden stairs. “Yeah, what’s up?” a girl, presumably Grian, asks. Her lilting voice is high in her throat, brassy but soft on the edges, and lightly accented. The question comes out stilted.

Vigil clicks his tongue. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Could you say that again?” There’s a dryness to his tone, one that tightens the nerves on the back of Doc’s neck.

“Uh.” Grian coughs. “Yes, father; what do you need?”

“You still have all that Buttercup Scout stuff?”

“I do, yeah. I said I would only burn it if Mumbo told me she’s no longer interested in scouting, remember? She’s planning to join, too.”

Mrs. Iris Penumbra takes the opportunity to join the conversation. “Thank you, dear, but don’t talk back. Why don’t you go get a glass of water from the kitchen, since hydration is—”

“—healthy, and you can’t talk back if you’re drinking a glass of water,” Grian finishes the sentence alongside Iris with all the enthusiasm of a root canal. “Yes, mother.” There’s some more footsteps as she fully descends the stairs.

“Thank you, baby. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Now she sounds further away.

A lightly muffled Iris, a little quieter than before, makes the offhand comment to her husband, “I’m somewhat surprised anyone asked her; she’s not exactly the friendliest girl around.”

Doc winces at the bluntness. There’s a good chance Grian is still within earshot.

Vigil hums in thought, but doesn’t offer any comment on the topic. “It’ll be good for her to socialize with someone other than just Mumbo.”

With that, Doc is finally able to regain their attention and steer the conversation back towards the new scout troop.

In the end, Xisuma, Iris, and Vigil agree that having their daughters join a brand new Buttercup Scout troop run by someone who’s still in the process of getting certified is a grand idea. Tuesdays are unavailable since Scarlet has physical therapy those days, and earlier he learned that Fridays don’t work for Mumbo since that’s the standing date she and Xisuma go to see her Uncle Exiona. The other days of the week seem open, for all three of them, so they pick Thursday as their day for new troop meetings.

***

A few weeks later, the date selected for the first meeting rolls around.

It’s hosted at their house, since they’re hardly a big enough troop to warrant asking the community center, library, or local church to sponsor them (Scarlet was mildly peeved that they weren’t going anywhere to make it feel more “official,” but agreed once Doc pointed out that the couches in the family room were much more comfortable than folding chairs). She’s practically vibrating as she flitters between the button maker Doc is setting up on the coffee table and the front door, already tired of waiting for her new troop members to arrive.

The button maker is an old thing from his and Ren’s college days. It’s practically a relic at this point, but it still works just like it used to. (He’d checked.) Making their buttons during a meeting seemed like a good way to break the ice. No way is he going to have a bunch of middle schoolers trying to make cookies like Symmetry’s troop, not without an idea of how messy the other two are.

He tightens the final bolt as Scarlet gears up to take another trip to the door. Before she can even stand, Ren reaches over and scoops her off the couch, making her shriek in surprise. “I’m starting to wonder if your feet are on fire, since you’re having an awfully hard time sitting still, baby,” he teases.

“Nooooo!” she whines, giggling despite herself. “Put me down, they’re going to be here any minute!”

Doc laughs heartily at the two of them, but his gaze does flicker to the clock hanging on the wall. He and the other parents agreed to start the meeting at seven, and 7:01 just ticked by. It’s nothing he needs to be worried about yet, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t worried anyways.

Ren sways back and forth with Scarlet in his arms. “Hm, tell me why I should set my little princess down?”

“Um… Because you love me?”

He bonks his forehead against hers. “I think that makes me want to hold you just a little bit longer, actually.”

Scarlet scrunches up her face and goes to respond, but the doorbell rings before she can speak. Her eyes widen. “That’s why! They’re here!” She resumes her wiggling with full force until Ren frees her and she rushes over to the door. Her shoulder clips the wall on the way and Doc calls out a “Be careful!”, but she’s hardly paying attention to him.

Doc stands with a stretch, popping his knee joints, and follows after her. He turns the corner into the entryway just as she's opening the door. 

Waiting on the porch are the girls from Scarlet’s phone, Mumbo and Grian, as well as a tall, long-limbed man wearing a vintage band shirt with the sleeves cut off and a chain necklace. Grian and Mumbo have matching uniform sashes, though Grian went the extra mile and also has the beret. (They elected to get Scarlet the vest since they were worried about the sash falling off her shoulders and her struggling to adjust it when she's using her crutches.)

Scarlet is quick to usher them inside with happy words and exchanges of fist bumps. Ren gives Doc a thumbs-up, so he turns back to talk to the parent.

The man smiles and shakes his hand. “Hello! I'm glad to see that we’re in the right place.” Ah, Doc recognizes that voice; this is Xisuma, Mumbo’s father.

“As am I. Scarlet has been really looking forward to this troop meeting. You're welcome to stick around, of course, though I am curious—” His gaze flickers between Xisuma and the empty space behind him where there's only the door. “—Did you carpool? I was expecting to meet Grian's parents as well.”

Xisuma makes a face, but he's quick to smooth it back out. “Yes, well, something came up for them at work. And since I would be driving this direction anyways, they asked if I could help. I couldn't just leave Grian without a way to get herself here or back.”

Doc nods in understanding. “I see. Regardless, I'm glad to have you and your daughter here today, and Grian as well.” He walks back towards the rest of the house, Xisuma following so he can see his daughter’s first Buttercup Scout meeting (“and to keep an eye on Grian,” he added in a hushed voice.) The thought is nice, but it’s hardly a necessity.

Ren has corralled the girls into sitting on the couch together in front of the button machine, where the three of them joke together in unsubtle cacophony. His tail is wagging behind him and he gives Doc another thumbs-up. Xisuma nods and takes a seat on the armchair off to the side.

Doc claps his hands together to capture the room’s attention, and the group conversation slowly peters out. “Welcome,” he says, “to the first official meeting of Buttercup Scout troop M77. Today we’re going to be going over our goals for the troop and making your first official scout buttons.”

Grian unpins the large button on the top of her sash, presumably from her old troop, and limply holds it up. “Don’t most troops go to an official scout store for the button ceremony?” She props up her head on her hand. 

“That’s true, yes, but take a look at the design.” He points at it and she lowers it to get a better look at the screening, which was a simple outline of the flower in black with a yellow fill. Mumbo and Scarlet lean in to look as well. “It’s nice, but the picture is just printed on—lots of other girls have a button identical to that one. If you make your own, then no one else will have one like yours.”

Grian thinks on that for a moment before nodding and shoving the button in her pocket, seemingly mollified for the moment.

Mumbo tilts her head in thought. “Can we—are we drawing these, or…?”

Doc smiles and kneels down next to the coffee table. He slides a tub out from the small shelf attached to the underside and brandishes it for the group. It’s full of markers, colored pencils, and other art supplies from when Scarlet was younger. “Take a circle of paper from the pile next to the machine”—Scarlet reaches over to snag a few and hand them to the other girls—“and draw the design you want for your button!”

They go back to chattering amongst themselves as they draw, and Doc breathes a sigh of relief. So far, so good. Having three parents present for as many girls was definitely overkill, but he knew his Scarlet very well, and apparently Grian had a bit of a reputation. What precisely for, Doc couldn’t be certain, but it was bound to be exciting, a headache, or both.

It's not long before Ren takes the opportunity to walk around the backside of the couch and observe their work. He hums in appreciation as he does. “I like the cat face, Scarlet!” he says to her, and she beams at the praise. Doc should’ve guessed that’s what she’d make; it isn’t as if she’s been obsessed with cats since she was five, or anything like that.

Ren steps to the side to look at Mumbo’s pin, but she curls over it the second his shadow falls over her. “Don’t look at it! It’s not ready, and it’s bad, and!” She shakes her head, eyes scrunched shut. “You can look, but only once it's done.”

Ren softly agrees before she can work herself into a tizzy and leaves her to it. His expression once he gets a look at the button Grian is making has quite the strong resemblance to the face he made when he was shown that blood can be used as a substitute for eggs in baking—mostly off-put, a little confused, and just interested enough not to look away. He blinks a few times. “Er… Are you sure that's what you want to put on your Buttercup button, Grian? It's a little bit. Violent.”

Grian glares at him. “Yes.”

Xisuma murmurs under his breath, “Goodness me, not already,” and goes to stand up, but Doc gestures for him to stay seated with a flick of his wrist.

He instead ambles over with a practiced casualness, looking between his husband and all 4’11” of angry tween girl in his family room. “What seems to be the problem?” By this point, both Mumbo and Scarlet have drifted away from their own projects and keep stealing glances while trying not to look overly nosy.

Grian scoffs and holds up the paper she was working on. “I’m just sketching the design for my button. The handbook says that you can put whatever you want on a Buttercup button, and I want to draw this.”

Ah. Hm.

Really, the amount of detail she's managed to work in with just off-brand colored pencils is impressive. The shape language and clear design on the rabbit’s organs are notable, and the knife’s texture stands out well from the fur.

The handbook’s blithe statement of ‘whatever you want’ is almost certainly meant to be followed up by an unspoken ‘within reason and good sense, of course.’  Bunny viscera isn't exactly a part of the family-friendly Buttercup Scout image.

And Grian is staring him down, eyes daring him to tell her no.

Doc reaches forward and takes the drawing, telegraphing his movement enough for her to snatch the paper back if she desires. She doesn't, and he puts on airs of inspecting it closer.

“Do you draw often?” He asks.

She shifts a bit and crosses her arms. “Sometimes.”

Mumbo snorts and leans over. “Sometimes. Gri, you've filled three entire textbooks since the end of winter break.” Grian hisses and swats at her shoulder, though Mumbo just laughs in response.

Doc clears his throat and Grian snaps back into him. “I can tell you've been practicing; you're very good at this.”

“Mhm.” She doesn't sound impressed. “But…? There's always a but when people talk like that.”  She's still awaiting some specific reaction.

Doc just shrugs and hands the drawing back to her. “I’ll definitely help you make this one, but I'd prefer if you made another to be your official Buttercup button. I'm just worried that I'll get in trouble if you wear that while in uniform, since I'm your troop leader.”

Grian's face twists in confusion, though Scarlet’s eyebrows have shot up—she knows this technique well enough from her own upbringing, and she also knows well enough not to interrupt .

“...You're not telling me I have to throw this one out?” She's tense, like her unconscious mind can't decide whether or not to defensively raise her shoulders, or to completely unwind. Her gaze flickers between what she's been working on and Doc’s steady expression. “I can still make this one?”

“Sure, why not?”

For a moment, Grian doesn't have anything to say to that. 

At once, her off-kilter confusion is packed away into an uncertain, projected nonchalance. She leans forward and selects another sheet as if that has been her plan the entire time. “Whatever. I'm gonna draw my Minecraft skin.”

Mumbo perks up. “Wait, we can do that?” She crumples up her first paper and darts forward for another. “That's a much better idea!”

Scarlet bounces in her seat a little bit. “Let’s all do it! So then our buttons will match!”

Grian waves the two of them off. “I don't care; you guys can do whatever you want.” Despite that, there's a ghost of a smile threatening to break her mask of indifference.

Doc smiles at Ren (who easily returns it) in satisfaction and strolls back over to Xisuma. He raises one eyebrow in inquiry.

Xisuma’s wide eyes dart over to the rambunctious trio and back. He nods.

There's still the button ceremony, passing out number patches for their uniforms, selecting future goal events, and the closing ceremony left until the meeting is over, but in that moment, the controlled chaos is the perfect state for the meeting to be in.

As the meeting closes, Scarlet has made two buttons and two new friends. Doc couldn’t be more proud.

***

A few months later…

Doc claps his hands together and the girls fall silent. Three sets of wide, expectant eyes stare back at him. He smiles at his scouts. “Welcome back to another Buttercup Scout meeting, everyone!” With a finger held up for emphasis, he asks them, “Now scouts, who knows what we will be doing today?”

Grian smirks with self-satisfaction and casually offers, “Violating the Geneva Conventions?”

Mumbo and Scarlet giggle to each other before giving him an innocent look.

“Tax fraud?” Mumbo asks.

“Arson?” Scarlet chimes in.

Doc gasps in mock horror, hand pressed to his chest. “What?! No. No no no no, no!” The fake suggestions are a part of the routine at this point—Grian started it, Scarlet picked it up almost immediately, and Mumbo joined in a little bit later once she felt comfortable. He makes a noise like he’s considering their ideas. “Well, maybe tomorrow, but not now.”

They chorus whines of disappointment (Grian acts like she’s especially offended) and Doc continues, “Today we are going to work hard, earn some badges, and—”

Ren chooses that moment to bound back into the room. He throws his arms around the scouts in a quick hug. “And let’s sell some cookies, dudes!”

The group cheers, even anxious Mumbo, even temperamental Grian, and Scarlet is right in the middle of a group of people that care about her.

She got exactly what she wanted from the Buttercup Scouts.

Doc couldn’t be happier.

[grainscharacter]

In the grand scheme of things, it could be worse. That’s what he’s telling himself. In his head, again and again, it could be worse.

He even gave himself a fake task! He’s set himself up for success!

It’s terrifying.

Etho isn’t sure why he chose Bdubs—well. That’s not quite true. But he’s regretting it. Bdubs, he has unfortunately learned, is quite committed to eye contact. Normally, this is fine. Sometimes it’s even a good thing.

Now, every time Bdubs looks at him, Etho has a split second of terror, a split second to stop what he is doing if it’s dangerous, before his limbs lock up and his muscles turn to cement and no matter how hard he wishes he could, he cannot move his body.

To be honest, he hasn’t tried that hard to. Look, he wants to win as much as the next person! It’s just—when the skeleton was shooting at him, he had a split second to put his shield up and then Bdubs was looking at him and he couldn’t even flinch.

All of this to say—Etho is avoiding people. It’s not—it’s not forever. He just. He needs a break. And he’s being helpful! Bdub’s bedroom could use some decorations! It didn’t have to be so drab! So he’s adding some moss bits, and just all around sprucing the place up. It’s fine. He’s fine.

He’s so fine that he doesn’t notice Grian has opened the door until he’s halfway to adjusting the blankets on Bdubs’ bed and his arms just. freeze.

For a second, he forgets. For a second, all he knows is that he was trying to be nice and helpful and suddenly he can’t move. For a second—

That’s not the point.

The door creaks as it shuts. Etho hears footsteps around the room, and then—

“Etho!”

Grian. It’s Grian—not a yellow name. Not a red name. He’s terrified of getting caught out by a red name. He’d be such an easy target, not even able to flinch, but no, it’s just Grian.

“Hey Grian!” Etho thinks that maybe the y in that word didn’t have to be so long. It’s fine. He’s fine.

“I was just checking in—I hadn’t heard from you in a while, no one’s seen you around recently. You alright man?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, I’m just—fixing up Bdubs’ bed. Y’know, so that when he comes back it’ll be… clean.”

Grian comes into his field of view, nodding, and for a moment Etho is so relieved that the Secret Keeper didn’t take away his ability to talk before reality sets in.

His arms are still frozen incriminatingly over Bdubs’ bed. He hasn’t moved them. Etho knows he and Grian are on the same side, but Grian is. Grian is Grian.

It’ll be fine.

“Okay, I’m just going to. Look, Etho, this desk shelving unit thing you’ve got is really cool looking, I’m just going to”—Grian doesn’t finish his sentence, but Etho’s arms unfreeze, and he’s so relieved he doesn’t even bother to wonder why Grian is looking at the unimpressive desk setup.

He shakes out his arms, sore and painful from where they’d been held up for so long, and then throws himself onto Bdubs’ bed. It’s comfortable, at least.

“Look, Grian. I appriciate that you’re here, and checking in on me and all that, but I’m fine so if you could just”—

“I’m not looking.”

What? “What?”

“I mean—I’m not. I’m not going to look. You can leave if you want. I won’t stop you.”

“But you’re not”—

“I’m not looking.”

Etho flounders for a second. “You know my task!”

“I do,” Grian tilts his head to the side. If he were looking, Etho knows, he’d have a sheepish expression, “I’m not going to—to sell you out or anything.”

Etho stares at him.

“You can. You can go, if you want.”

“When you say you won’t stop me…”

“I mean—yeah. I won’t. I won’t look at you.”

Etho considers this. Grian is still standing at the desk, staring at the wall. He sits up straighter.

“You can look.”

“What?”

“You can look,” Etho repeats, “Just for a second.”

Grian turns around, and there’s something open and vulnerable on his face Etho’s not quite sure how to read. He’s not sure he wants to, so he closes his eyes tight. The all consuming lack of movement doesn’t get to him as much when he can’t see what he should be running away from.

“I’m not going to—to force you to sit there all day.”

“No! No. I mean, you could. But you could also just, I don’t know, get comfortable. Somewhere you can’t see me. Lie down on the bed and look at the ceiling or something.”

Grian considers this. Etho can almost hear the idea tick in his mind.

“…Why?”

“Well,” Etho starts, and then realizes he doesn’t actually know why, “It would be nice to not have to worry, I guess. I won’t make you.”

“No,” Grian agrees, “It would be nice.”

He moves around the room until he’s lying at the door of the bed staring at the ceiling. Etho feels the discomfort of concrete in his veins.

Finally, the sounds of movement stop. Etho cracks his eyes open, watches as Grian closes his eyes and lets out a soft sigh.

“I’m not looking.”

[hopepetal]

This is something I wrote a couple months back, but never did anything with the au after.

Writing Masterlist

--

“Hey, G-man?”

Scar’s calling for him again, in the same way he’s always done. Grian can’t blame him– they’re soulbound, after all, and that man seeks approval and attention in a way that makes Grian almost want to picture him with floppy ears and a wagging tail. Almost, but not quite, because Scar is already so perfectly Scar that it infuriates Grian. 

Scar pokes his head into the keep, and Grian tries to hold back a sigh as he shuts the chest he was rummaging through. “Hey, G-man, I was just wondering–”

Grian interrupts him. “Scar, if this is about the pandas again, I’m not going to be very happy.” He tries not to wince when he shuts the poor man down. He doesn’t want to be cruel, and it pains him every time he sees Scar’s face fall, but Grian has long been unable to afford the luxury of friends.

It wasn’t always this way, of course it wasn’t. What kind of story starts out with a character who’s already sad? Clearly not an entertaining one, not to the omnipresent beings that decided they’d have a hand in controlling Grian’s own. No, a story had to start out with something precious, something fragile. Something like flowers, like friends and an oath, or a loyal companion as your only friend.

And then, just when you think you’ve finally won, that precious thing is taken from you and destroyed, and you are never the same and that’s what makes a story interesting. 

In Grian’s opinion, a person’s life isn’t a story that can be erased and rewritten when it doesn’t suit your taste, but who is he to challenge the narrative gods who call themselves the Watchers? Sure, he once swore he’d never bow to authority and be a force of pure chaos and revolution, but those values tend to falter after being forced to kill the one person outside his family that he’d allowed to touch his wings. So sue him.

Scar laughs, but it’s not the kind of laugh Grian’s used to hearing. It’s the kind of laugh that comes from nerves, along with shaking hands and jumbled thoughts and fear that you’re going to screw everything up. “Nah, I just wanted… I still want to, I just, you know, I wanted to check in! See how my partner is doing! Normal things that allies do, because they can!”

Grian tenses up the moment the word ‘partner’ leaves Scar’s mouth. It’s familiar in the same way the desert sun is. It’s bitter in the way it feels so familiar, but so strange at the same time. Scar hasn’t called them “partners” since third life. It’s only ever been “soulmates” or “soulbounds”, because that’s all they were. Two people who had their souls randomly bound together by fate, against their will. They were not partners. They were allies, sure, but it’s only reasonable to ally with the person who shares your life.

Grian stands up, sighs, and slowly turns to face Scar. “What do you want…” The words get stuck in his throat as he realizes what Scar’s holding.

Scar looks up at Grian, and offers him a bouquet of lilacs and poppies. “Can we… can we still be friends?”

And Grian feels...

He feels. 

For the first time since the desert, since the harsh sun shone down on tanned skin, bruised and bleeding. For the first time since he beat his best friend to death and jumped to his own, Grian feels a crack in the numb, emotionless barrier he’s built like fortress walls around his heart. 

It’s all he can do to keep from letting those carefully crafted walls crumble as he stares at the lilacs and poppies held in his soulmate’s hands. Flowers given to him once by his partner, with skin as grey and lifeless as steel, were now being offered to him by the very same hands Grian remembers desperately clinging to after death. 

“What is this, Scar?” he asks, and he tries to keep his tone as cold as the icy fear that slowly grips his heart. 

Grian still remembers the confusion in Scar’s eyes. He could never forget how Scar patiently waited for him to finish sobbing out desperate apologies and pleas for forgiveness, before taking his hands and telling him “it’ll be alright, Grian. That sounds like some awful nightmare.”

And no matter who he asked, it was always the same thing. Slight confusion, a furrowed brow, and a gentle “are you alright?” as if they hadn’t lived and died by the sword for months on end.

He’d been half-convinced he was making it all up in his head before Scott came to him after last life and told Grian what he knew. It had been comforting, at the very least, to know that there was someone else who understood.

But as for the rest of the players...

It was only natural Grian began to drift away. It was only natural that he closed off his heart to the world. They wouldn't understand– couldn't, because to them, the death games were nothing but particularly bad nightmares Grian had, despite the carefully practiced insistence that they did believe him, he just had to take a deep breath and they’d talk about it and–

The look in Scar’s eyes, so jarringly green and bright, is something Grian only saw when those very same eyes were red. 

Scar chuckles awkwardly, looking away. “Look, Grian, I... I know I’m not exactly the smartest guy around, but I can tell when something’s up. Not only that, but I…” He pauses for a moment, trying to think his way through his words. “Grian, I’m going to be completely honest with you here. I died. And then, all of a sudden, bam! I wake up, and I’m here! And, woah, what are the odds, you’re here too! And at first, I was overjoyed, but then I realized…” Scar’s voice saddens, and he looks back up at Grian. “I realized that something was wrong. And, y’know, you’d think a man would know that somethin’s wrong when he wakes up from death, I mean, that’s the one thing you don’t wake up from, but like I said, I’m not the brightest fella!”

Grian knows that’s a lie. Scar is brilliant, in his own sort of way, and that was proven by how he’d convinced everyone that he was anything but that. Grian had seen him in action, when he swindled people out of their diamonds, armor, and weapons during third life. Grian knows that Scar is one of the smartest people he’s ever met, and yet he can’t find the way to say that.

He can’t find the way to say anything, apparently, because he’s in shock. Probably. Is that how this worked? Whatever it was, he was sure it made him look positively stupid, standing there completely unresponsive like a zombie.

However it makes him look, it clearly worries Scar. “...heyyyy. Earth to G-man. Hello, Grian? Don’t die on me now, that would be bad. That’s– that’s my thing, remember? C’mon, G, wakey wakey!”

Grian snaps out of whatever daze he was in, and tries to keep his voice from shaking when he speaks. “...do you really… remember…?” He sounds quite a bit like a lost child, and feels like one too. “The desert…?”

Scar’s expression softens. He holds out the flowers with a hesitant smile. “I don’t really know what’s going on,” he admits, “but–”

Grian throws his arms around Scar, tears streaking down his face. The bouquet of flowers falls to the ground as Scar gasps, before he hesitantly hugs Grian back. 

The carefully crafted walls around Grian’s heart collapse.

[stiffyck]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

AUGH JSJFKWKGKWMR CRYING THEYRE SO SPFT PH MY GOD SJVKSKGKWKG

I love them anon this is so sweet awwwww

[brainrot-has-overtaken-me]

ReLife Drabble

I have been taken ahold by this prompt from @dat1angel. It has me in its grips currently (and may or may not be distracting me from other things I should be doing) I can't stop think about it.

I will say I have never wrote a full fanfiction by myself, though I have co-wrote and beta'd fic before, so who knows if I will actually finish this, but I have already planned it out to through the fist death loop. So y'all will at least get up until then, even if it's slow coming cause finals season and then I'm going out of country for a bit.

Anyways here's a lil drabble of what I have so far:

“Here we go again.” Jimmy thought disparagingly as he looked around the clearing that everyone was waking up in after suddenly being transported there. He had just been swimming with the cod in his empire when a purple glow began to surround him, causing him to pass out only to wake up in whatever game the Watchers have in store for them this time. Looking around the clearing Jimmy recognized the 13 other faces with him, noticing that the Watchers chose to drag the cast from that time they had soulmates in these games back. 

Standing up as everyone else began to orientate themselves as to being in the games once again, a loose circle formed while attention started to turn towards Grian to find out what the catch was this time around. “While we all understand that what happens in these games is ‘no harm, no foul,’ there is still some tension between us from Double Life, even though we’ve had games since then. So They have brought us all back together to ‘fix’ it. I can tell that there is something else They want to achieve, though They are not giving any details. Other than that there is no gimmick this time around, a new world with borders as usual and just normal 3rd Life rules…”

While Grian was explaining the ins and outs of the three life system in case anyone had forgotten, Jimmy’s mind began to wander, thinking about why they were dragged here once more. “The Watchers can claim it’s to ‘fix’ the tension leftover from Double Life, but if that was truly the case, why wasn’t Lizzie here? Or Mumbo? Or Zed? Or really just anyone who was also affected by the relationships that were formed during Double Life even if they weren’t in the games themselves. Most of the tension afterwards came from those that were on the outside not understanding the games and the situations we were put in. And even then, most relationships have come to some agreement or understanding over what happened and the new bonds formed. Barely any tension was still held between players, though in some cases like Mumob, Scar and Grian trust was having to be rebuilt. But overall it doesn’t make much sense to bring just the Double Life players back to ‘fix’ themselves, without any gimmicks. And this secret motive Grian could sense, what could that be-?”

“And with that the game has begun. The grace period is over and any damage taken from this point on can and will result in consequences. Welcome to ReLife.” Grian’s explanation of the game comes to an end, drawing Jimmy back into the conversations around him as people split off to begin gathering resources while the sun is still up. Breaking off from everyone else, Jimmy began to collect some wood, basic tools, and easy food. Looking for a surface cave that hasn’t been claimed yet, he was still caught in thought by what the Watchers want from them. “He’s a champion of the Listeners for Aeor’s sake! He understands Their motives somewhat. Watchers like entertainment and feed off of high emotions, though They like chaos and other negative ones the best. They wouldn’t want the tension from Double Life to be resolved so what could this secret motive be?” 

Coming across a small cave opening in a hill he could spot a bit of surface iron and coal. Figuring this is as good as he’s gonna get, seeing as most of the good caves are probably claimed, Jimmy jumps on into the small opening to gather a bit of coal for torches before setting up a spot with furnaces and tackling gearing up. After about fifteen minutes of mining the visible iron without exploring too deep into the cave he figures he’s collected enough iron for a few tools and maybe a piece or armor or two. Turning around he heads back to his furnaces to take a small break while everything begins to smelt. Hearing footsteps approach, he begins to turn around when a voice calls out.

“Hi Jimmy!” Scott’s voice drifts through the cave opening. Fully turning around he sees his husband smiling down at him as Scott continues to mirror the same greeting he gave so many years ago in the first game. “Of all people I find it’s you.” Climbing down to join him in the cave, Jimmy can’t help but smile at his husband’s soft laughter at how they were brought together once again. 

“Out of all people I run into first Petal, it’s you. How are you holding up? I haven’t gotten much gear yet, been running across the surface for so long looking for either people or a place to settle first.” 

“I’m doing okay. I kind of just wandered off looking for a cave without anyone in it, needing to think, but I’ve found enough iron for some tools and maybe a few pieces of armor. They’re smelting right now, but maybe we can split it?” He saw a soft but concerned look cross Scott’s eyes at his words.

“If you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind having some for a few pieces of gear, maybe a shield? I’m sure we can find more to be enough for both of us if we go deeper into the caves. But Petal, what’s got you stuck in your head so much that you went looking to be alone?” His voice conveyed nothing but concern and care for the other.

“Its just that Secret Life ended not too long ago, it’s too soon to be in the games again. Plus They like our suffering! Find it entertaining! Why do they want us to ‘fix’ our relationship issues after Double Life?” He began pacing, voicing his frustration a little louder as he got worked up. “And this ‘something else’ that Grian could sense. What is it? What secret agenda do They have? With no gimmicks this time around to add onto, it can’t be entertaining enough for Them to actually feed! And with my curse of being first out everytime, I know that I probably won’t be around long enough to get answers.” Towards the end of his rant, the frustration in his voice turned to tears as Scott came up to hug him. 

“While I don’t have answers for you Petal, you’re not cursed. You have bad luck Jimmy and sometimes these guys don’t make it easy for you.” Reaching into his inventory, Scott pulled out a very familiar flower, “With the circumstances being so familiar as all those years ago, I promise that this time I won’t become a widow and you will make it to the end. That is if you’ll marry me again, Love?” Scott asked, breaking the hug and extending the poppy in his hands towards Jimmy.

[jellieland]

So. I've been thinking a lot about the fog, and what it represents, since shubble's latest episode.

---

Clearing up the tower wasn’t too bad, in the end.

Everyone he’s talked to seems to agree that this is his mess. It does, to be fair, seem like something he would do. He even sort of remembers doing parts of it, now!

He also sort of remembers a few people being a bit unhappy about it, so getting a head start on the repairs seems wise.

The mob farm was the worst of it by far, and that’s been dealt with. He’s taken out the skulk – which really is unpleasantly slimy to handle when it’s no longer the same texture as your hands – and brightened up the lighting considerably, which should take care of some of the mob spawning problems.

He hasn’t been able to find where all the catalysts are, yet, but it’s a lot easier to clean up the surface, and then deal with any more skulk when it presents itself. Sure, maybe it’s a little like just papering over the cracks, but eh, it’s functional enough for what they need. Leaving a couple of catalysts buried won’t be the end of the world, and there’s other work that needs to be done.

It’s late afternoon, and he’s putting the finishing touches to a new villager room when Scar comes crashing through the portal.

“Oh, Cub!” He calls, waving enthusiastically.

Cub puts down the lodestone he’s working on and strolls over, nodding a greeting. “Hey. How’ve you been?”

“Oh I’ve been so busy! There was Trouble Town, and Hermageddon, did you see the train I built, Cub? And Grian nearly released a wither there, and they kept trying to get me to choose between them – it’s hard being so popular, Cub, I’m sure you understand – and then I tried to Hotguy Fwhip but it did not go well – don’t tell anyone, that was so embarrassing-”

Scar continues, and Cub listens. He hears about Scar’s many exploits, and looks impressed, and nods, and interjects where appropriate.

“And what about you, Cub?” Scar asks, once he’s finished recounting his adventures. “What’ve you been doing recently?”

“Ah.” He says. He considers it for a moment, then grins. “That would be telling.”

“Oh you rapscallion!” Scar laughs. “Cubfan, man of mystery! Well, you seem to have taken care of that whole possession thing you had going on before anyway. Did you decide you’d had enough, then?”

He remembers, in a vague sort of way, being attacked by Pixl, fireworks painfully loud as they exploded. Standing still in the noise, sword sheathed, elytra folded. And later, sitting in a hole in the dark, comforting hum of the skulk beside him. He remembers sitting there for a long time.

“Yeah.” He says thoughtfully. “Something like that.”

“Well!” Says Scar brightly. “I’m glad we’ve both been having fun, then!”

He laughs. “Me too. Me too.” He pauses a moment. “Really though. I mean it. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” And he does mean it, too. He does.

“Aww, thank you Cub!” Scar looks genuinely touched, although most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between that and his usual sly charisma.

“No worries.”

Scar smiles brightly. “Well, I’m afraid I should be going now! Lots to do, you know. It was good to catch up, though, you were being super creepy last time we spoke.”

“Oh yeah?” Cub chuckles. “What, you’re not saying you were worried about me, right?”

Scar grins sheepishly. “Weeell, maybe a little bit- I know, I know, you know what you’re doing! But still, it’s nice to see you back to your old self again!”

“Thanks, man. Good to be back.”

“Of course it is, I’m here!” Scar laughs, then heads back to the nether portal, waving at him. “Bye, Cub!”

“See you ‘round.”

He vanishes through the portal. He’ll almost certainly be back in a minute or two, since whatever he’d come to Hermitopia for – probably materials – he doesn’t seem to have gotten it.

Usually Cub would wait for him to return so he could mess with him a little bit for forgetting. Maybe put some kind of rudimentary trap or ominous sign next to the nether portal for him to come back to.

Today, though, he doesn’t really feel like it.

In fact… now's probably a fine time for a break, right? That lodestone can wait a few minutes.

He won’t go too far from Hermitopia. If Scar really wants to find him for some reason, it won’t be too hard.

He nods to himself, pulls out his rockets, and flies out to circle away from the tower. All the nearby hillsides are covered in dark, pulsing corruption. He settles on one anyway.

Maybe he should cover over the skulk here as well.

…Maybe it would be better to just leave it. A black mark left on the world is, after all, better than leaving nothing.

He turns, looking out and away from Hermitopia. He finds it odd, looking at it. Being in the tower. Recently, he’s found it makes him feel restless. Empty.

It’s probably something about being surrounded by walls that he thinks he built, but can’t actually recall building. He’s been remembering a bit more, but it’s mostly placing skulk catalysts, or being sinister at people about skulk. None of the other things he must’ve been doing.

He wonders what it says about him, that this is what carried through the fog.

…Probably all it says is that he can get pretty single-minded at times. And that’s not really news to him, so. Well.

One thing he does remember, quite clearly, is looking up and away from False and Pixl, through a haze of confusion and pain and remnants of the potion, and seeing Xisuma looking down on him from the lowest roof of Hermitopia. His expression had been as unreadable as it always was behind his helmet.

He hadn’t moved as Cub staggered around, unable to escape the hollow ache in his chest as the skulk withdrew bit by bit. Xisuma had only watched him from the Hermit’s tower.

And there was nothing wrong with that! There was nothing wrong with that.

There’s just… there’s just a part of him that isn’t too upset that he hasn’t run into many hermits in the past couple of days. A part that’s just a little uneasy about the idea of encountering some of them. He’s not sure… why, exactly. Maybe some residue of the skulk.

Or maybe-

No. No, that’s enough. He cuts off the train of thought, glaring at nothing.

This has happened a couple of times lately. It almost feels as though he hasn’t quite got a handle on his own mind again yet; as though any moment not spent doing something has to be spent thinking round in circles like he’s still wandering through the swamp.

He's sure it’ll die down soon, but in the meantime it’s… well, it’s irritating, honestly.

As he’s frowning to himself, he hears someone landing behind him. Did Scar decide to look for him after all? A moment passes and he turns. “Hey, look, I-”

The sun is directly behind the new arrival, shrouding them in darkness and surrounding them with a halo of light. He squints, and they step forward.

There is, he thinks, for a split second, a hint of something greenish-blue like fog, or moss, or maybe some other greenery, but then- no. It’s just Bdubs, bright as the sun, looking up at him.

“Oh.” He says. “Hey Bdubs.”

“Hn.” Bdubs makes a short noise of acknowledgement, then stares at him for a minute, odd expression on his face.

Cub shifts slightly.

This seems to remind him to speak. “Yeah.” He says. “S’no fun getting left behind, huh?”

Cub considers this for a moment, slightly unnerved, although he does not, of course, show it. “Dunno what you mean, man. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Sure.” He somehow manages to give Cub a sidelong look while still facing him. “Have fun with the skulk?”

Cub narrows his eyes a little. What’s he angling at? “Yeah, sure. Wasn’t too bad.” He pauses a moment. He doesn’t think he saw Bdubs while he was possessed, though he could certainly be wrong. “How’d you know about that anyway?”

“Oh haven’t you heard?” Bdubs preens slightly. “I’m omnipresent now. On account of how I’m a god.”

“Uh huh.”

“I am!”

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

“Well.” He pulls himself up to his full height, frowning up at Cub. “I just thought you might need some advice.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” He crosses his arms. “You for sure need my advice, look at you out here moping.”

Cub raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Moping? What, I’m not allowed time to myself now?”

“You heard me! Moping! And in fact-” He cuts himself off. “Wait, no. Stop distracting me!”

“Don’t know if you can blame me for that one man.”

“Look! My advice is this!” He gestures emphatically. “You just need to have a positive mental attitude, and then stuff like falling from the sky and dying for days on end, or being trapped in the rift for a week, or, uh, other things, well, they won’t bother you! Take it from ol’ Bdubs, for I am of course oh so wise and smart and powerful.”

Cub looks at him, and doesn’t say anything.

After a few seconds, he deflates slightly. “Oh come on, at least acknowledge that you heard me.”

“…Look, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Uh huh.” Bdubs folds his arms.

“I’m serious. I know how to deal with these things.”

“Right…” He gives Cub a skeptical look. “So you’re saying it really doesn’t bother you at all that the only people to help you were strangers, because you were bothering them. Not your friends.”

“I kind of know Pixl.” His voice is level.

“Well yeah, sure, but everyone knows him, that doesn’t count.”

“And…” He hesitates, unsure of how far he can trust his memory. “...False?”

“Look, we both know that one’s complicated.”

“Either way.” He says firmly. “No. No, it doesn’t bother me.”

Bdubs squints at him. “If it did, though. With things like this. If you don’t want to get forgotten, you have to make yourself indispensable! You have to make yourself unforgettable!”

“...Ignoring everything else, really don’t know that that suits me, most of the time.”

“Well then you can’t complain when-”

“Was I complaining?” He asks sharply, not quite able to keep his voice as calm as he’d like.

Bdubs opens his mouth, thinks for a moment, and frowns. “Yeah ok, s’ppose you got me there.” He shakes his head as though to clear it. “What I mean, is that you need to make sure someone’ll come look for you. Not everyone’ll do that, you know, no matter how much they care about you.”

As if he doesn’t know that. “Hm. I guess that’s fine as a suggestion.” He shrugs, eyes cold. “If you think you’ll need people to rescue you.”

Bdubs looks affronted, draws in a breath, and- stops. He narrows his eyes. “Well you did though, didn’t you?”

“No, actually.” He snaps.

He feels a rush of anger warm him and decides, quite suddenly, to let it. Anger is always easier, which is why he doesn’t often give in to it. But it’s a nice change of pace from that irritating emptiness in his chest.

“Do you have any idea, Bdubs, how hard it is to persuade an ancient, powerful hivemind that sure, that first potion might’ve half destroyed us, but there’s no way they’re actually a threat, we should definitely just wait for them in this hole for a few hours while they go brew some more so we can taunt them when they fail, which they for sure will, don’t worry about it!”

He glares at Bdubs for a few moments, letting his breathing calm.

“It’s pretty hard. It’s pretty hard, actually, to do that.” He breathes out sharply and gathers himself, regaining his usual composure. “So yeah, sure, they happened to lend a hand.” He waves a hand dismissively. “It felt rude to say no, honestly. But I didn’t need them. I would’ve been perfectly fine dealing with it myself.”

“Uh huh.” Bdubs frowns at him.

“I would.” Cub narrows his eyes. “I- look, what do you want from me? I’m cleaning up, ok? I’m not gonna add any more catalysts to your builds. I’m not planning on going back in the fog, if that’s what you’re worried about …Is that what you’re worried about?”

“…What?”

Bdubs looks… genuinely thrown. It’s not clear why.

“Cub, what do you… why do you think I’m here?” His voice is oddly quiet. Serious.

“I just told you. I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I assume you found some skulk or something and wanted me to deal with it.”

Bdubs’ face does something… strange. “Cub.” He says. “I was worried about you, because we’re friends.”

Oh.

That- huh.

“Oh.” He says. “Well, I. My point remains the same.” He turns away, looking out over the nearby forest.

When he glances back for a moment, Bdubs is frowning. “What… what point was that, again?”

“Look,” Says Cub, feeling, unusually, half-obliged to explain himself, “I don’t really dwell on these things. Never seen the point to it. Just… got reminded that there are consequences for my actions, sometimes. Not often. But sometimes.” He shrugs. “Happens to the best of us, you know?”

“Care to elaborate on that?” Bdubs’ voice gets higher through the length of the sentence.

I’m talking about how I would literally rather be swallowed by the skulk forever than know you thought I couldn’t get out of it myself, he thinks. How I have no reason to complain when being possessed lands me as the villain rather than the victim, because I know perfectly well that’s what I’d rather be. How you all reacted exactly as I would want you to, and decided I wasn’t one of you anymore until someone else fixed me.

“Oh,” He says, “Just… hey, I’m sure you mean well. But you don’t need to worry about whether I could get out of stuff like that by myself. ‘Cause I could.” He shrugs, nonchalant. “And sure, maybe that’ll come back to bite me one day.” He grins. “Hasn’t happened yet though.”

Bdubs nods, slowly. “If that’s really how you feel, though.” He’s still frowning. Cub can see it in the corner of his vision. “Why’re you still here?”

That… well. It’s a fair question, he supposes, even if it kinda stings. “I mean, why not, you know? I wasn’t the one who decided to invite me, I just said yes. Why not keep hanging around?”

“What? I meant here as in here skulking on a hillside.” He sounds suspicious.

“I- right. Course.” He shifts a little, embarrassed.

“…Well?”

He opens his mouth, closes it again, and internally curses his hesitance.

“Cub.” Bdubs pauses a moment. “Why did you seem so surprised that I might be worried about you?”

“Oh, just. Y’know. Like I said.” He folds his arms and stares intently at the nearest tree. “Consequences.”

Bdubs sighs. “Can you just speak like a normal person for one minute and not like someone who’s gonna ask me to answer their riddles three?”

At that, he grins. Laughs. “Bdubs.” He says, lightheartedly reproachful. “Of course I can’t.”

Bdubs grumbles a little under his breath. “…hrm, nearly forgot who I was talking to.” He mutters, mostly to himself.

The stand in silence for a while. The bright glow of Bdubs’ cloak makes for an interesting contrast with the skulk they’re standing on.

 Cub continues to ignore the hollow space in his chest.

“We’re probably headed back soon anyway.” He says, turning back to meet Bdubs' eyes. “And then we can forget about all this…” He gestures dismissively at everything, “Stuff.”

“Can we.” The words sound heavy.

“Sure.” He shrugs. “You remember season eight.”

This time it’s Bdubs who turns away. “Course I do!” He says in a way that’s supposed to be light. “What an ending, right?”

Ending. Right.

He remembers season eight, a bit before the end. Fighting mobs in the dark, exhausted, surrounded by open lava rivers and deadly spikes of rock that he had spent so, so long painstakingly crafting to look both impressively intimidating and perfectly natural. In the end, they had probably killed him more than they had anyone else – he was the one who had to live with them, after all. Most of the others just started avoiding the canyon, eventually.

He remembers Scar, nearby, just on the other side of the towering mountain range that he had built along with the rest of Boatem. It was a beautiful, impressive collaborative build. Cub admired it. He did.

He remembers visiting one day and Scar, grinning, eyes alight, recounting with great relish the most recent way he and Grian had hurt each other, over on the latest death game server.

Cub never got the appeal of that, really. It was odd – on the surface it seemed almost made for him.

It was true that chaos was his raison d’être, his lifeblood, but it was always chaos in his own form that he lived for. Carefully prepared, curated chaos, that he could conduct and master without the risk of failure. He did his best not to show it, but he was never as good at improvising as he’d like to be.

But Scar was always an excellent improviser. As was Grian, apparently.

The end of the season was hardly noteworthy, really.

He had, after all, escaped on his own. And Scar had not.

“It’s distance.” He says. “It’s handy, most of the time. Does have its downsides, though. I mean, most of us left each other behind in the end, didn’t we? That’s just how it is.”

Bdubs still isn’t looking at him. The line of his shoulders is tense. “That doesn’t mean we don’t all love each other.”

He frowns. “Love,” He says, exasperated, “Is just grief that hasn’t happened yet.”

“…Yeesh.” Bdubs looks unnerved. That’s not surprising, really. This is probably the most maudlin Cub’s been around one of the other hermits in… well, ever. After a moment though, he looks up. His expression smooths out into the most serious Cub’s ever seen him. “Is that bad, though?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Grief. Is it bad?”

Cub rubs at his chest absently. “I mean it’s not very useful.”

Bdubs stands there, quiet. Glances up at the sky. The sun has been setting for a while, now. He sighs. “Does it need to be?”

Cub is silent.

“Anyway, it’s the other way round too.” Bdubs shrugs. “Grief is just love, afterwards.”

He looks at Cub, for a minute.

“These things.” He says, and glances down at the skulk, then back up. “They take stuff that’s already in you, and make it stronger. But it goes away, eventually. I promise.”

And with that he nods at Cub, pulls out a rocket, and flies away, presumably looking for somewhere to sleep as the light dims further.

Cub stays out there until the night turns to day, and then heads back to the tower.

When he arrives, Xisuma is there, looking through the barrels and making various dissatisfied noises to himself.

“Hey X.”

Xisuma looks up. “Oh, hello, Cub. You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” He gestures at the room Cub’s mostly finished building. “It’s looking good, my friend!”

“Yeah, I’ve been working on it. Lot to do, you know?” He starts gathering the last bits and pieces he’ll need to finish up here.

“Oh, very much so. We’ll all be needing to wrap things up soon, won’t we, with Grumbot on the way!”

“Seems so.” He nods. “By the way, don’t suppose you know what Scar was looking for earlier? He left without doing anything.”

“Oh, I dunno. Last time I saw him I think he was looking for you.”

Cub stops. “Oh.” He says. “Right. Yeah. I probably should’ve known.”

Xisuma tilts his head quizzically. “Did he find you, then? I think he was a bit worried after all that skulk business.”

“Yeah.” He laughs, just a little. “Yeah. He did.”

(Later, Scar comes back over to boast about being both the Deputy, and the First and Most Important hermit who should therefore obviously be in charge of the tower, Cub, I mean look at me!)

(It’s nice.)

[all54321]

A “Delivery” (Part 2)

Part 1, Part 3

I decided to make these guys unhinged, because that’s fun. Also there’s extreme pining this time.

I’ve also decided to add a Part 3, because I’m having ideas. Probably also featuring more pining.

—————

The Bad Boys arrive at their place at midnight, earlier than Scar expected. They’re clad in their leather jackets and sunglasses, with only Jimmy wearing his properly.

Cleo nods in approval, “you’re early.”

“Of course,” Grian replies, voice clear of the humor in it when he was chatting to Scar earlier. “These things go easier when you’re prepared.”

She grins, “it is.”

Scar zones out of the conversation as he stares at Grian. He always looks good in leather, incredibly good. How could Scar not fall for him looking like that. Scar doesn’t really care that he’s losing focus to stare at Grian, Cleo’s briefed him on the plan already and no one else is here, so Scar will gladly take the chance to stare when there’s no repercussions.

He startles out of his staring by an elbow to his side, he quickly looks over. Bdubs is staring at him seeming unimpressed while Cleo looks at him expectantly.

“Uh… y-yes?” Scar mumbles, uncertain. He casts a glance at the Bad Boys, relieved to see them talking together, unaware of Scar’s earlier staring.

Bdubs shakes his head, exasperated. Cleo seems to share the sentiment, but takes mercy on him, “I was asking if you had everything prepared.”

“Right, yes, I do,” he replies, still caught off guard a little.

“Good, we can’t trust them to play fair.”

“You have got to say something,” Bdubs says, nodding his head towards the Bad Boys.

“Quiet,” Scar hisses, casting another glance at them. Thankfully none of them seem to have heard.

His brother just rolls his eyes, “this is just getting painful.”

He’s saved from responding by the Bad Boys rejoining them, they stand in a line but Joel takes the lead, “we’re all set.”

“Are you prepared for the worst?”

Immediately after Cleo finishes speaking, Grian pulls out a Glock from where it’s hidden under his jacket. Scar wouldn’t say he’s swooning over Grian with a gun, but damn does he look hotter holding one. He doesn’t hope this goes bad, but Scar would love to see Grian in action with that gun. He knows the Bad Boys’ reputations, but he hasn’t seen what earned them it though. He would love to see it, especially Grian. Scar would love to see how much of a badass Grian can be.

Cleo nods, “so you’re all ready to go?”

“I have one question first,” Grian says, putting this gun back.

Cleo raises an eyebrow, “go ahead.”

A grin spreads across his face, “will we need explosives?”

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

“I have plenty of kinds, short fuse, long fuse, destructive, not destructive, and some other fun ones.”

“What do you plan to do with them?” Bdubs asks quizzically.

“Anything you want,” he replies easily, though the maniac grin remains on his face.

“Preferably non destructive,” Cleo replies, “we don’t need to cause structural damage. And only use them if you have to.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Do you have any here?” Scar asks, curious.

Grian casts an evaluating glance over the three of them, “I can get some easily enough.” His tone is guarded, wary.

As eager as Scar was for their deal, he forgot one crucial thing, they all play dirty here. They will always keep their cards close and only reveal what’s needed. Scar would never betray Grian, no matter what, but he can’t say the same for any of the others on either side.

Scar lets out a breath, if this meeting goes well, hopefully it can lead to a more steady alliance with the Bad Boys. Maybe one that’s built on more then just business.

“Right, we’ll meet you there,” Cleo says, voice holding no argument as she holds out a slip of paper.

Joel snatches it and reads it over, nodding as he shoves it into his pocket. “Come on, Bad Boys.” They give one final parting nod before heading out to their truck. Grian’s eyes linger briefly at Scar, before he turns around to leave.

“Scar,” Bdubs says, tone chiding.

“I’m focused,” Scar counters, turning to face his family again.

“You better be,” Cleo says, a warmth back in their tone that’s only present when they’re talking to their sons, “we all need to be prepared for things going wrong.”

[jadienjaystoriesandart]

A Father of Spores

Summary: Grian hasn’t been feeling himself since coming out of the decontamination room. Though he has a clean health, and no more shrooms are growing on or out of him, he still feels weird all over. He keeps hearing Scar’s voice too, but the man isn’t any where to be seen. And Mumbo has him staying away from the main areas where the resistance has been hitting, as par for the course after exposure. But, that didn’t stop Cub from paying him a visit. 

Warnings: Mentions of Body Modification, Brainwashing, Body Horror, Corruption, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Cannibalism, and Altered Reality.

No Beta lol, give into the spores please.

-

The usual after decontamination was a period of which one had to quarantine away from any and all forms of the mycelium. Which meant Grian was stuck in his simple house away from the main area of infection, which was mostly the outskirts and inner city. Luckily his area was mostly untouched, and made for some time he could gather his thoughts. Truth be told he didn’t remember alot of it. Mumbo was being vague on purpose, so he could only guess it was bad. His arms and back were healing up fine at least, no more shrooms growing out of them. And he was taking it slow for the time until the week was up to head back to work, once they were sure all signs of infection were gone. 

It was... dull, boring, going on day 3 with Grian doing a movie marathon of the Scooby Doo films... they were bad but in a cringy good way. He was also was watching Mystery Incorporated, and trying to keep his mind off things as he petted his cats. Lately it’s been.. odd, he swears he hears Scar’s voice in his house. But, each time he turns around, no one is there, and not a sign of spores in sight.

Maybe he really is starting to lose it? Maybe it’s a prolonged effect of after exposure? He had heard altered state of mind was a common side effect for a few days, so... he tried not to let it get to him. 

He finished peeling the potatoes for a pot roast he was making, getting started on cutting them into 4′s when there was a knock at his door.

“Hm?” Grian looked up confused, could that be Mumbo? Maybe even Impulse or Doc coming to check on him? The latter was more likely as Mumbo knew better than to go to someone during quarantine period, he was target number one after all. Washing his hands quickly, as another knock was heard, he walked over to the door.

Opening the door after turning the lock, Grian looked outside, and felt his inside turn cold at the sight before him. 

Green and black fugus like stuff ran up the side of his face, creating these horns that poked out from black hair. The eyes were pure black with blue orbs looking at Grian, glowing blue shrooms grew out the side of the face as well and along his shoulders.  Cub smiled brightly at Grian, “Helloooo Grian.” he said cheerfully to him, the horns flicking a bit like cat ears.

SLAM!

Grian had his back to the door his heart rate rising as he looked startled a bit in disbelief. He stood there in shock, staring at the ground. For a second, he wondered if he had imagined it.

More knocking behind him as it vibrated through his back. “Grian.” Cub’s voice said, “I promise I won’t make more shrooms grow in your walls or couch. I just came to talk.” his tone almost a slight whine to it, playful and teasing.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Grian groaned in annoyance as he stood up again and opened the door again peering at Cub around the corner. Cub was smiling brightly at him still, despite the stuff growing out of his skin and face, the smile was the same as Grian remembered it. Opening the door fully Grian sighed, “... Don’t try anything.” he grumbled before allowing Cub inside. He was an idiot, but frankly he knew Cub could force his way in if he wanted. So, civil was the best course of action, and calling the cops wouldn’t do shit, as that last time the happen Scar infected them all. 

Cub walked in and did take off his muddy shoes in the mud room, Grian closed the door again, but didn’t lock it just in case. He looked at Cub who was petting on his cat, she didn’t seem to mind purring away happy to see him again. Cub smiled at Grian, “I’ve missed you.” he told him, “Didn’t mean to be gone so long, or cause you to get a new couch before then.” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with a fanged smile.

Shifted a bit Grian made a face, “Darn well better be, that was a good leather couch.” he grumbled a bit as Cub did laugh, it... sounded off, it was Cub’s voice but also distorted a bit. He looked at the other and sighed heavily, “Hungry?” he asked him curiously, trying to keep calm and even voice.

The horns flicked as Cub perked up, “A bit, any meats will work, or anything mushroom and vegetable related.” he said walking with Grian to the kitchen taking a seat at one of the bar stools. 

“Mushroom related?’ Grian asked confused as he put the potatoes into the pot. 

Shrugging, Cub leaned on the counter, Grian was gonna have to disinfect things again. “I mean, fungus is cannibalistic by nature, we eat dead things, even other dead shrooms.” he explained. “well, it’s not really ‘cannibalism’ as we don’t have the same moral standing as most humans. Just a way of life really.”

Grian hummed at that looking intrigued  as he put the pot on high and sat across from Cub. This felt painfully familiar, days and nights they spent together when dating just chatting and laughing. Before Cub got infected, before he fell off the face of the earth for 6 months and came back... looking like this. 

“Been a long time, huh?” Cub smiled at him calmly, “I’ve missed our nights together, Scar likes hearing me talk about you. He really likes you.” he chuckled faintly as Grian looked at Cub with sad yet curious brown eyes. His feathers shifted a bit as the faint sound of chuckling was in his head, but it was gone as quick as he heard it. 

A pause in the air as Cub hummed faintly, “he wants to see you again,” he said slowly, “the father I mean, Scar, he wants to get to know you on a personal bases, as I talk to highly of you.” 

Grian said nothing as Cub watched him without blinking, in fact the other didn’t see to blink at all. A moment, before Cub continued, a sad, and quiet sigh escaping his mouth. “I wasn’t forced like this Grian.” he said, as it shattered the silence like glass, and Grian was now looking at him with wide eyes. Cub gave a sad smile, “I was very willing.” 

Wide, and shocked brown eyes looked at Cub, that... that couldn’t be true! He remembered Cub being among the ones that went missing when the Father Spore had made his appearance, after he infected the building Cub had been working in. The day he came back, stumbling and a bit dazed in Grian’s door and near contaminated the whole house beyond repair... before vanishing again. 

“I know, hard to believe.” Cub said calmly with a shrug, “but I’m not lying, i have no real reason to lie like this. Trust me, the brainwashed ones are obvious compared to ones like me. We are gifted with more freedom of will, our thoughts are more our own, but we are still connected to The Father.” he explained to Grian messing with one of the shrooms on his arm. As he did so it did spew out some blue powder, which Cub cleaned up from the counter. 

Ones like Cub couldn’t produced heavily spore pollen like Scar, but he was still contagious through contact. Even more so than some of the others infected, but Sculk was a very advance form of fungus that grew in the darkest parts of the world. 

Chewing on his lower lip for a moment, Grian narrowed his eyes at the table, the silence stretched as this info sank in. “Why?” he finally asked after a long moment of his thoughts swirling around, taking in the fact Cub, his Cub, became this monster like creature.

Another shrug, Cub sat up a it, “The Father isn’t just some guy infected with overgrown mushrooms Grian... he’s something much more powerful and more than a mere man now. He’s the new age coming, of which all will be either connected or food.” he said in a matter of fact tone. Then a grin, “I know sounds very ‘Cultish’ doesn’t it? But it’s the honest truth, Scar speaks often of his plans to me, of how not all will be infected, but used to spread the spores with their decaying bodies.”

Another round of insides being dunked in cold water, Grian swallowed hard at that. They had.. suspected that was the plan, given some were killed by Scar and found with lots of mycelium and shrooms growing out of their dead bodies. But, to hear it from a source, it just made it all the more scary. 

“I was tired Grian,” Cub looks out the nearby window in thought, “I loved you so much, but other parts of my life were just so dull. I felt like I was doing things on a loop, and felt empty without you or other connections.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment then a faint smile, “Then I met Scar, he broke into the building, and spoke in a charming voice. He was cunning, threatening, but gentle and so calm. The building was over run with spores, mycelium, and Scar gave all us a choice. To accept his gift, or be the example.” 

Grian stared at that as Cub stared outside at the darkness, there were many bodies that day, all taken over by mushrooms, that area was still under heavy rules, no one was allowed inside it. It was a prime area to be infected, and the process to get rid of it was slow and with little fruition. Thus it was blocked off from the general public. 

“I accepted to go with him, me a very few others. I was actually the first to speak up that I’d go. On the promise of a new start, something more...” Cub spoke again catching Grian’s attention again. “He was so... gentle Gri, he cupped my face, smiled at me so lovingly, and promised all that and more.” a near whisper, reverently, and in so much awe. 

Cub looked back at Grian, “He took me to his home, the resistance base as you know it, and carefully helped me through the process. It was scary at first, I won’t lie, but the results are worth it.” his eyes almost glowed, “We are a part of him, and he of us. We are his children, Grian...” he reached out, but paused looking at up Grian with longing, loving, and pleading eyes. “I want you a part of us too, Gri, to feel like this. Loved, cherished, wanted.” 

They stared at each other for a long moment, before there was a hissing sound, Grian turned and swore rushing to the stove as he turned it down before it could mess up the burner. Once he was sure it wasn’t going to boil over, Grian looked at the contents in the pot, eyes narrowed a bit as Cub’s words rang in his head over and over again. 

Cub was clearly infected badly, but, he spoke so highly of how he was now. The idea of what Scar wanted in the end was terrifying. Though he could picture it clearly, the grass gone, now a soft purplish grey, perhaps a few more trees here and there, tall shrooms also that grew, the air cleaner and clearer than it ever had been. 

‘What a beautiful imagine, no?’

Scar’s voice in his head as Grian gripped the handles of the pot tighter. He frowned a bit, before getting out some food for him and Cub. Placing the bowl in front of his old flame, who didn’t take his eyes off him once. 

For a while they ate in silence, Grian messing with the food and Cub adding a mushroom to his happily. Then he spoke up, “I don’t know Cub,” he admits after a long moment, “I... just don’t know.” 

His thoughts were jumbled, a mess, and he just wasn’t sure. He was afraid, scared of what he’d become, repulsed by the idea of letting mushrooms grow out of him. But the way Cub spoke of it, a painful longing. What would being loved like that taste like? What would it feel like? To be cherished so easily? he had felt that with Cub, and in that moment in the office with Scar. And, Grian would be a liar if he said he didn’t want that. 

‘I could give you all that and more, my song bird.’

Cub finished eating and smiled at him, “you don’t need to answer right now Grian.” he said gently to him, “The Father can wait, even though you might see him later.” he smiled, then paused, “Oh... wasn’t suppose to say that.” he said.

“What?’ Grian looked at cub, “What do you mean? What is he planning?’

Shaking his head, Cub stood, “Can’t say Grian, secret and all,” a teasing wink, “if you joined us though, I could tell you so much more. All I’ve found out about what we are.”

A glared from Grian, as Cub smirked at him, “But for now,” his eyes gleamed over green and his voice changed, “tell no one you saw us here, little bird.” 

Grian froze at that, eyes widening... he felt like something fogged over his mind and he nodded to Cub. Cub smiled at that, eyes turning back to blue, he bent down for a moment, “Until then my flower.” he ghosted his lips over Grian, but didn’t touch them. And slowly pulled back from the dazed bird turning and leaving.

It wasn’t until the door clicked shut did Grian blink back into awareness. He looked around at the empty bowl, and some of the sculk on his counter. He felt... sad that Cub was gone, and he was alone again. 

Sighing after a moment, Grian got up to start disinfecting the counters and bleaching the bowl. His mind lost in thought as he went through the motions.

Maybe if he wasn’t distracted by his thoughts, he might have noticed when he moved, his body who puff out these faint purple spores. Or might have also noticed that the blue of his feathers was turning a bit purple as well. 

[sparksnevadas]

I have finished reading the latest GIHASM chapter and I am here to let it be known that I am once again wailing sobbing crying about mumscarian.

I feel like it can’t be said enough but the way you write them together… they’re just so soft. The little domestic scene of Scar and Grian cooking together. The implicit trust between Mumbo and Scar as they talk about how they are doing in the wake of everything. Grian trusting Mumbo to be there while he and Pearl preen and Mumbo getting the courage to speak about his experiences with the HA inspired by Grian. I could probably write a whole novel about how much I love the tender affection between them and how absolutely romantic your depiction of them is <3

(Side note: the way you write cooking has really reminded me that I do indeed love to do that)

The dancing scene needs a special shout-out, okay? I had to keep pausing to hide my face because it was just so good. I love your redscape dynamic so much, I think about them often.

The bit about Bdubs’ driving was great too! You got so much of his chapter into such a short bit.

And the parts about Grian’s complex emotions about the HA </3 they were so realistic and I loved getting to see that (especially with the added context of that post about why you named the chapter as you did).

I know you’ve said you are starting to wrap up GIHASM and while I am obviously excited to see what you come up with next, I am definitely going to miss this AU a lot. Every time I get that AO3 update email it puts a smile on my face and I drop whatever I’m doing to go and read it immediately. I love GIHASM so much and if anyone who is still reading at this point hasn’t read it yet I highly, highly recommend you go and check it out!

void!!! my friend <3 i had not noticed you sent this, i am genuinely sorry!

i love little domestic scenes, even if these idiots wont admit they're in love, they will cook for each other, sacrifice for each other, let each other sleep in and distract each other when its needed.

this is a very minor thing but i feel like in popular media and fic, once a character finds out they like someone, its very fast: attempted confessions, miscommunictions (my dearly detested), etc. etc. my thing is like... i wanted to explore what it would be like to fall in love with your friend over a year and not notice. and what'd be like to figure out you kinda see your nemesis as a friend (and maybe more, as you get to learn more and more about him). and even when you do find out, are you really that quick to turn around and risk something you value so much? maybe, maybe. Im trying really hard to find a balance between the two ends i suppose. its very slow going, but im glad everyone seems to be enjoying the ride? But anyways ya, ya, they are in love, but more importantly, they are best friends :)

(I LOVE COOKING!!!! the recipe for the spanish omelet is a mix between official recipes (putting it in the oven) and my own (adding bell pepper occasionally. it adds flavor and color))

its really funny to me that when i started drafting this fic, my head was so full of redscape stuff. and then i kinda realized i needed to focus on grian, so then i went full scarian mode for a bit. grumbo is the ship i feel like in a way i've had to put on the back burner for most of the fic bc mumbo wasn't "there" for the first half. anyways i love redscape. it consists of one Anxious but sweet man and his Confident but too sweet man wholoves him very loudly (but maybe not loudly enough?). and theyre best friends :) and they were roommates!

<3 <3 <3 i think i havent made it super clear in the fic up until this point that everyone and everything is morally gray, including the like. ig antagonist? of the fic. The HA has good people in it, and it has people who are not so good. everyone has different opinions on what should happen to it, and they are all valid in their own ways. given that a lot of readers were rallying against the HA, i was like :3c time to reveal why grian likes bleaching his wings and why he loves the HA and will always feel mixed emotions about it.

(can you tell i like writing about complicated relationships? lmao)

i have about 2 more story beats to finish off on..... i have also been saying i have two more beats for about 2-3 months. I say "soon", i have no idea how much longer this fic will take to write. for example, i thought of the stuff for this chapter within the last three weeks. so it was a last minute beat add. soooooo idk. "soon" but like. im gonna take any excuse to write more domestic scenes lmao. a meandering "soon"

anyways!!!! hi void my friend!!! thank you so much for this long ask i love long comments so much i love seeing what everyone picks up on and what parts are fun to read!!! genuinely the interview part was nervewracking for me to write bc i was like... i hope i dont sound preachy but journalism is important to me, and morality is important. anyways, i wont ramble any longer, but i lov u!!!

[uhohbestie]

There Are Monsters Nearby [Chapter 31]

🏜 Pairing: Grian/Scar

🧟‍♂️ Tags: zombie AU, zombie apocalypse, lovers to exes, slow burn, eventual reconciliation

📖 Summary: The day after Scar breaks up with Grian, the dead come back to life. Knowing that venturing out alone is a death sentence, the sudden onset of the apocalypse forces them to stick together despite their tensions. In the wreckage of the world, they're forced to survive side-by-side, coming to terms with the fact that—try as they might—there's still no one they trust more than each other.

Chapter 31 - Down a third, with the fate of Pops unknown, Grian and Scar resume travelling on their own. Grian would like a chance for them to finally talk, however Scar seems determined not to dwell on their past.

📝 Words: 4774

🔗 Link: Read Chapter 31 on AO3

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On the second night they find a cabin tucked close to a creek that hasn’t yet frozen over in the cold. It’s another relic of the long discarded early logging industry, left abandoned for sixty years at least, its roof heavy with moss and pitted with enormous holes. The interior fares no better, half the floorboards rotted away, carpeted with old leaves and decades of pine needles.

Scar doesn’t try to hide his disappointment as he walks around its perimeter, the door having long ago fallen in on itself, letting them pass inside without needing to put in any effort at all.

“Would’ve been good if someone still lived here,” he says, tone conversational as he kicks his toe into the rotting slump of wood that might have once served as a doorstep. “Good for you, I mean.”

It doesn’t feel accusatory. If anything, it feels kind. A genuine consideration for the misshapen way that Grian has adapted to the new world in which they live.

It makes Grian’s skin crawl.

This isn’t what he wanted.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, for lack of anything else to say. Scar offers him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Like he knows Grian is lying.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

[ read more ]

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We're finishing up the third arc of TAMN today! Thank you for reading with us thus-far, we're excited to be heading into the fourth and final arc of the fic coming up! <3 <3

You can read the whole fic thus-far in the link below ↓↓↓

You may not rest now, There Are Monsters Nearby (on ao3!)