#if u did not get the memo and are confused why ur seein this - hi i used to be babyveeandlittleprince and write the labd series

[babysizedfics]

1k words of my little!grian & cg!scar wip

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“Scarrr,” the all-too-common whine resounded around the room.

“Daddy’s busy,” Scar replied absentmindedly, distracted for that very reason.

He had invited Grian to keep him company while he waited in the upper levels of his Jellie farm, letting it do its magic. After a good hour of regular conversation and kidding around, it was time to enter the lower chamber to collect the fluffy grey treasures that awarded their patience. Scar was currently chasing around these treasures in his wheelchair, shoving raw fish in their faces until they loved him.

“Yeah, well Grian’s bored!” Grian groaned, dropping his forehead to a block of glass to drive his point home. The ginger cat that resided in the chamber behind the glass startled and darted around its confined space. (They had agreed to let the spare cats roam the server, just as soon as Scar had had the chance to tame his Jellies.) “And stop calling yourself that, s’weird…” Grian grumbled, his face smushed against the glass.

Tempting a Jellie towards him with a raw, slippery salmon, Scar hummed a faux noise of agreement and/or interest. Whatever it was that Grian had said, surely that covered what he wanted in response, Scar theorised.

“Scarrr!” An even louder whine, followed by a muted thump that Scar could only assume was a pathetic attempt at a foot stomp.

Theory disproved. Scar relented, dropping the fish on the floor and letting the wild Jellie snatch it and scurry back to the corner of the room. He had already acquired fourteen Jellies after all. Some people would say that was enough.

“Alright, alright, I know a cry for attention when I see one,” Scar teased, spinning his chair around with a big smile at his fluffy haired companion. “What’s got you all wound up, little man?”

“Gee, I dunno, maybe watching you chase fifteen versions of the same cat around a room for, like, half an hour?” Grian’s voice was all sarcasm, but not too much frustration. In a blur of red, Grian swung his arm up and a bunched up rag came flying at Scar.

He shrieked, arms flying up to shield his face. The rag (which was soaked in what Scar assumed, and hoped, was water) landed by complete chance in his hands with a wet slap.

“For your gross fish hands,” Grian explained, clocking Scar’s confused disgust. He dragged his feet on the floor over to where Scar was parked. Before Scar could argue that his hands weren’t that fishy, Grian had grabbed one of his wrists and lightly tugged it up to exclaim, “Oh my god, dude, your fingers are literally wrinkled!”

Scar’s own hand was shoved in his face to confirm that, yes, his fingertips were wrinkled from the amount of raw fish he had been handling. He sent a guilty (yet charming, he was sure) smile over at his best friend.

“Y’know what, Grian? I just had the best idea.”

The other’s eyebrows raised and his lips quirked into a light smile. “Oh yeah, Scar?” Grian played along, placing (not dropping) Scar’s hand back to his armrest. His fingers stayed resting on Scar’s wrist. “And what’s that?”

“Well, I’ve decided that we have been here long enough and should leave,” Scar explained casually, then grabbed Grian’s hand tight and whispered desperately, “Now.”

Grian broke into a burst of giggles. “That’s what I’ve been saying! And get your gross hands off me!” he cried, shaking Scar’s greasy grip off and leading the way to the door.

Scar hummed to himself in thought as he wiped his hand off on the rag, his chair also humming beneath him mechanically as he drove behind Grian. “No, I don’t think you’ve said that at all today.”

They broke out into the daylight, and Scar admittedly was glad to see the bright blue sky and fields of green stretching into the horizon.

“All I’ve heard you say were ‘Scar’, and ‘Scarrr’, and ‘Scarrr’—” Scar counted on his fingers, doing his very best Grian Whine, before the originator of said whine batted his hand back down.

“Okay, okay,” Grian groaned, though still with a smile.

“Can we please do something fun now?”

“Sure, fire away,” Scar indicated to Grian with the rag before chucking it to his other hand to finish cleaning off. After fussing for a good moment with a rascally scale that wanted to stay put under his fingernail, Scar looked up, only just realising Grian hadn’t said anything in reply. “Bud?”

Grian was looking a little lost, bashfully shrugging his shoulders. “Uh, I kind of hoped you could think of something?” he asked hopefully, voice raising to a pitch that meant he was trying to smooth things over.

“You didn’t even have anything in mind when you were begging to leave the Jellie farm?” Scar asked, playing shocked and affronted but really just mildly put out and amused.

“I— I just always think your ideas are, uh, more fun,” Grian lied, voice raising in a half-question by the end of the sentence. The smile on his face was a combination of smug, playful, and timid. “C’mon you always think of new games when I’m, y’know—” Grian’s shy code for regressed “—surely you can think of something on the spot.” The challenge was clear in Grian’s tone. Then it was made clearer by Grian’s finger poking repetitively into Scar’s cheek. “No pressure or anything. No pressure, Scar. No pressure.” 

Argument on his tongue, Scar was ready to insist Grian think of something for them to do, he was the one who begged for it after all… But then he had an idea. Oh, and this was a fine idea indeed. One he had been waiting for. One that was so very welcome.

You see, after being thoroughly swindled out of a hefty amount of diamonds by Bdubs, Scar had broken the cycle of pranking that was so common in their would and had instead gone quiet. Suspiciously quiet, he knew it seemed from the outside. But inside, he had been sitting back and waiting patiently for just the right scheme to come upon him. One that would annoy the heck out of Bdubs, be enough to get him grinding those perfect pearly whites to mere stubs, but one that didn’t cost too much in damages—to either his base or his ego.

That is, Scar’s base or ego of course; Bdubs’ pride and property, on the other hand, were about to take a major hit. Nothing too permanent, nothing out of bounds, nothing Bdubs wouldn’t recover from, eventually. Something teetering right on the edge. The perfect place for a prank to be.

Scar felt his face twist into a huge grin (and imagined himself as the Grinch) as he caught Grian’s persistent finger in a gentle pinch. (Was he even rhyming like the Grinch now?)

“Someone’s getting kinda testy, huh?” he asked with a very specific, practised voice—softer, bouncier, more teasing than his usual tone.

It was rewarded with an instant dusting of pink across Grian’s cheeks. Step one of the plan was officially in action.

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muuuuch more to come soon :3 pls feel free to reblog/comment/yell at me (kindly) as u see fit - and follow to catch more updates and hear some cute headcanons!