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fumifooms · 3 months ago

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Dungeon lord Chilchuck

What would his wish as a dungeon lord be? What would he be like? Headcanons & speculation post for fun. But I’ll start with analytic lead up because that’s always fun for me, though feel free to skip and skim.

When it comes to what Chilchuck’s dungeon lord desires could/would be like we have mainly 3 hints: His nightmare, his succubus and what the winged lion says to him.

Why: — From what we see nightmares are based on the person’s worst fears and insecurities, both Laios’ and Marcille’s nightmare were closely tied to their dungeon lord wishes (Laios’ dream monster being summoned to crush the ghosts of relationships that represented the pressure to fit in and belong, Marcille seeking control over death and aging through magic to avoid loss), the fuel behind their desire/goal if you will. Fear and deep-seated desires are seemingly closely tied, something also supported by Thistle and Mithrun’s reigns as dungeon lords (Thistle proving his worth through fulfilling his given duty + protecting his loved ones, being listened to instead of having to listen, Mithrun escaping rigid two-faced elven society and living in a wonderland where he has no enemies and he’s loved, free from everyone he knew yet propped up by the person symbolizing his brother being chosen over him, the bastard child).

— I’ve talked about the significance I assign to the succubi often by now, but rundown: What we see of each character is all very telling if you care to listen, it shows not only someone’s "ideal form" but what they want from it. Izutsumi’s is familial, offering a hug and comfort, Marcille’s is romantic with a character she knows and loves, offering a kiss on a hand and a connection regardless of how distant it actually is, and Laios’ is platonic, arguable at first but then Laios’ fear of judgement is placated and he is offered the picture perfect friend group that accepts his interest (if you want my full look at Laios’ succubus go here). They take on the most alluring form, most ideal person of their victim, even uncovering deep subconscious desires, so precisely and effectively to the point it leaves victims physically frozen before the object of their desire. Succubi and the demon are themselves tied in lore and it’s easy to see how similar their core skill are. Succubi don’t give a good idea of what a character would wish for on their own but they certainly give hints on what they crave, regardless of how you want to read it.

— Last bit is self-explanatory. To placate Chilchuck and win his compliance over, the monster that reads your soul like an open book offers to give him something specific. But! It’s also important to remember that the lion isn’t offering to fulfill Chilchuck’s dream world wish here, it’s a second prize, because his goal with what he promised Laios is that they’d stay in this world, away from everyone and everything else. Chilchuck wants to get away but is kept back, and it’s here the lion placates him with "hey it’s okay! You can’t do that but I can still give you this! This is enough right? It’ll make everything easier on you".

What each bit says: — Long version in another post. Tldlr: His daughters and family are obviously important to him, and this reinforces that he takes on the role of protector a lot, he’s constantly worried for his party members’ lives and implicitly his family’s. Safety and stability, both economical and otherwise, are his core values and goals, and he berates both others and himself if someone fails on those fronts. Here, there’s the fear of not being enough, of not having been able to protect, and of course of loss.

— Chil’s succubi are obviously sexual, and not only that but agressively and straightforwardly so. It’s not like Marcille’s where there’s personality involved, all they do is give him sultry looks and pretty smiles before jumping on him. His succubi aren’t like Izutsumi’s, always the same exact person and appearance, so it’s not someone but an appealing general idea. The idea of a sexual being he can regard as simply a gorgeous piece of meat and a good time no strings attached. In my interpretation, especially with my reading of Laios’ succubus where even with deep-seated desires negative emotions can be too intense to effectively freeze a victim, I think this doesn’t contradict his character. Relationships have been painful to him in the past, in the succubus scene when his wife gets mentioned his immediate reaction is to yell "Don’t bring her up now!", like with his habit of drinking and as a tallman liking his senses feeling dulled, it’s about not having to feel emotions with how difficult they are to deal with sometimes and just feeling good, or at least not having to think, for a while. If a succubus showcases someone’s ideal connection with an ideal person, then Chilchuck’s is with a pretty person that doesn’t stir any negative memory or drama, someone low stakes and low maintenance that doesn’t require him to manage or talk out feelings because there’s none involved in the first place.

— Once more, wife and family are important! He does long for his family, not only his wife but his daughters, and vice versa. This suggests not only that he wants good relationships with them but that he wants them to be with him, a family life. Far from the cut communication they all more of less have during canon, and perhaps far from their life pre-canon when he worked away from home a significant amount of time. We’ve seen recreations of people by the winged lion before with doppelgangers and monsters (naga), and though he claims he can make satisfying imitations, what we’ve seen is that they base themselves on the best memories of that person, like with Marcille’s dad, or twist behavior to be more pleasant, like Mithrun’s lover (and possibly twist appearances depending on the person’s view of them, but that’s Mithrun analysis). The line does suggest Chilchuck would want his family members as they are in reality and not idealized versions, but the circumstances are chaotic and urgent enough in the scene (and again the lion isn’t fulfilling Chilchuck’s wish but trying to make him content for Laios’) that it could just be the winged lion saying what he needs to to convince him the fastest possible, and like we see with Laios that can crumble to give way to deeper or more complex desires.

On top of that we just have general info on Chil. How does Chilchuck deal w his issues? What does he like to do? He likes alcohol and ignoring his problems. We have to remember there is a split between what someone would consciously wish for and what their soul uncontrollably irrationally craves. As always with Dunmeshi, there’s a narrative of irrational deep-seated desires vs active wants, what you crave vs what you strive for, what you dream of vs what’s actually good for you, the animal vs the human inside you, heart vs mind. Chilchuck craving a harem of hot babes in his fantasies but wanting his family life & wife back again is not mutually exclusive. You may crave becoming a monster and tasting what humans are like a little but still want to save the world & your friends more.

Btw can we adress the irony of him terrified of being the last one alive, of being left by his daughters and wife, of having left and coming back home one day to see everything gone or rampaged, yet not caring about dying of liver failure himself, knowing every time that he enters a dungeon there’s a real risk he may not come out. Die somewhere I can’t see you. I prefer leaving you than being left behind. He’s selfish and shortsighted like that… Chilchuck is selfless in many ways of course, but perhaps also due to his own relationship with his parents, he often undermines the effects he has on others in his relationships, both the good and the bad (he talks himself down about being cowardly and greedy yes, but never hints at his bad health habits, alcoholism and starving himself, may have affected his loved ones, doesn’t question his wife falling into a bad mood the night before she left, and talks about the possibility of dying here and there very casually, though obviously he tries his best to stay alive when it doesn’t concern his health).

Chilchuck king of "Let me just avoid and ignore my problems surely they’ll go away, things might work out and if they don’t well tough luck I’ll survive and I probably deserve it anyways". If I don’t look at it it will dissapear <3 Why care when you can simply not think about it.

You might not understand Mister "my love will stay strong through months of work travel and also 4 years of separation" and Mister "well idk my siblings and me are kinda strangers and my dad is dead but that’s kinda whatever", but typically relationships need some form of maintenance and emotional availability…

The actual headcanons finally

I kinda have 2 routes in mind for dunlord Chil and both of them are centered on "I care too much, i wish things were easy", so first is a lot like his succubi, it’s full on indulging in his guilty pleasures like alcohol and bodies and it’s to keep him in a constant state of thrill and euphoria and distracted, unfeeling about stuff that really matters. "Nothing matters except that I’m enjoying the moment!" vibe. He gets to live a life worthy of Dionysus, with alcohol and women and debauchery and like— never having to think again, never having to feel anything but pleasure again, never have to feel guilty or shitty or angry or sad. He has a harem and gets everything on a silver platter.

Breaking news demon magic-induced rush of euphoria and power still not enough to cure this man of his self-hatred nor his capacity for thought!! But in his case a state of euphoria is what he seeks I think, to kinda mask or replace the Everything Else.

The other is what I think closer to what canon suggests, with what WL implied too with "I’ll make you a new wife and kids like the originals!! 😊", it’s a (spoilers) Wandavision type thing where it’s a slice of life where he’s never at work and always at home and the family eats lunches at the dinner table together and everything and everyone at any moment is just. Happy. No issues. It was all a dream, this is real and everything is fine and your family is perfect and happy. I like to think the timeline would be wonky, his daughters would fluctuate in age, but he’d want to be there for what he missed, would want them to still rely on him and look up to him like when they were young, would like to forget that they’re now independent adults and the distance that grew between Chilchuck and his siblings is happening between them as well. Chil would want doppelgangers of his family imo, at its core just a general wish for a peaceful happy family life with no drama, no need to compromise, a little paradise of unconditional love and no consequences. It’s for sure straightforward, but Chilchuck is a man with straightforward desires…

But see Chilchuck is a greedy man, and he wants it both ways without having to sacrifice anything or expanding any efforts himself. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. I think playing with these two opposite directions and mixing and matching is most fun. Him leading a life where he indulges in all his worst habits while still having everything he wants… Him getting to have BOTH his wife and any woman he can imagine up, his life like two sides of a coin he can flip at any moment where he’s partying then he’s at home enjoying the quiet and his toddler daughters playing with toys on the carpet. Christ when you remember it’s all an illusion that’s terrifying, the doppelgangers and succubi from the winged lion playing chilchuck ping pong.

A safe little haven both security-stability wise and emotionally. Gets to have both the relaxing and the thrilling in any dose he wants, mixed or separatedly. What I’d argue he had pre-canon too: Can live it up in taverns away from home, stays away from home for long periods of time, and can come back to home aka the symbol of relaxation and safety whenever he decides to. Something he can leave and come back to at will, an anchor he can trust in (until it’s taken from him and his wife leaves. Or in his worse nightmare people rush in and kill his daughters). The ideal of a house and family to a working man, perhaps…

I think it’s fun to think on wether or not these desires would be interesting at all to the winged lion… In canon he seeks out "rare/complex desires", common simple things like I imagine riches, sex, substances and pleasure would be are boring to him, he’s eaten those so many times already. So perhaps he wouldn’t last long as a dunlord, the WL would want to eat him fully quick, can’t keep him interested or waiting long for a meager meal, too much effort raising the cattle and too low quality meat. By making it more twisted or layered Chil’s desire would become more desirable to the demon, it’s part of what’s fun with the third option to me. But whatever. Has he ever eaten a guy with this much repression and self-sabotage... Like trying to get the meat out of a walnut, enrichment…

Other dunlord Chil takes I’ve seen that are fun and good:

@feelo-fick and @pluvio-floret have a dunlord Chilchuck AU project dubbed "tragedy AU" where Chilchuck is said to be "on vacation", in a weird delirious state, only half-there half of the time… From which he doesn’t want to wake up </3 Quoting Feelo, this is why the vacation thing is only a half-joke cause he is 1) letting all his responsibilities go 2) indulging in himself and 3) "spending time with his family" <- lie but you get what i mean. Additional comments that have me vigorously nodding: because changing is hard why cant things just be okay right now without the effort !!! Life is hard he’s so so tired he just wants to feel good… he just wants life to feel nice and easy for a sec while he can learn to breathe again and lose the stress and trauma he’s accumulated…….. spoiler alert yes !!! in fact a depressed person can suck themselves into their job and lock out the world who wouldve thought !!!

And then Cabinette I know posted about his dunlord take once but I don’t have the link, in which Chil has a lot of nosebleeds because of mana overload which is fun and interesting to think about imo~

In dunmeshi, where characters get underground pockets of the world as their playground disconnected from everything outside and the rest of the world, it’s important to remember to face reality even if it has conflict and people with different views and stances from you, it’s something Chilchuck and Marcille and everyone needed to learn, and the thing with a dungeon lord AU is that you imagine a timeline where he fails to <3

A timeline where his dungeon lord wish is to desire nothing bc hope and want has only ever hurt him would also go so hard. Very universal thing though I suppose.

… And this is why a Chilchuck-centric Coraline AU is really really interesting and fitting and topical— Ok that’ll go in a separate reblog/post at @Fumiku I need to let this end

#Dungeon meshi #chilchuck tims #Analysis #dungeon lord chilchuck #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Wish we could put just parts of a post under a ‘click to read more’ box that scrolls open and closes neatly #Bc 3/4th of the post is just extra explanation for ppl who don’t See The Vision already but like that’s not what i wanted most of the post #to be really gdbdg #Headcanons #You could say the family also represents something he’s built up with how own hands. If he has self-worth issues and thinks he’s a screw-up #in the virtue/honor and likability department especially— his family destroyed/killed also represents the one biggest good thing #he’s done/created crumbling also. Like his wife leaving without a word while he trusted their relationship this can hugely impact #one’s sense of identity and self-worth and what you’re living life for. In his case it’s not too surprising he turned to simple #physical pleasures for comfort and enjoyment. Like with tasting good food having moments feeling good keeps you going #He always focuses on the bad relationships bring and never the good aghhhh #The reverse of Marcille who often idealizes. They both ignore problems in their relationships in opposite ways.#What do you mean why do i bring up marcille. Okay yes this’ll get a marchil Fumiku short brainstorm reblog as well #Chilchuck is so… curse of having feelings and not realizing the extent of them. Underestimating how much you care #It’s either ‘i’m fine who cares’ or falling into the pits of despair and blaming himself n spilling his whole bag no inbetween #Dunmeshi succubus #Fumi rambles #boy that’s what this boils down to i suppose #Family angst “Hey I came back home from work and i’m tired so don’t talk to me about problems or anything k? I’m here to relax smh damn”#< unwilling to admit he has issues he should be working on or that some things are affecting others negatively #Chil you are so enneagram 6w7 <3

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intotheelliwoods · 1 year ago

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Guess who got to see a Solar Eclipse at the 4 Corners! (the bobble leos did. this trip was for them actually- they didnt even pay for gas)

#2 arms left #aha so eepy #had to wake up so early to drive here and I am very tired #relax weekend for me dont expect much aha #did I have a tag for the bobble leos I forget #anyways you know how some people have like a stuffed animal or something they take on all their travels #and photograph them next to the places they have been to #thats me. but with the bobble leos lmao.#If you ever see bobble leos on the dashboard of someones car congrats thats my car #as for I take them everywhere #im so sad I could not find the welcome signs for arizona or utah #also why is the new mexico sign like. decked in stickers. while the colorado welcome sign is as pure and clean as ever #do people prefer sticking them on metal as opposed to wood or something #im also so sad the whole place I was at didnt go pitch dark aha #the moon was def over the sun #just wasnt close enough to darken the place #as in where I was it was perfectly over the sun too!

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serpentface · 9 days ago

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What's the Wardi cultural take on Akoshos sleeping with/partnering with/marrying other Akoshos?

It's not highly regulated to a degree that there are overwhelming cultural norms about it. There's a lot of societal focus on akoshos being theoretically suitable sexual partners for both men and women due to being dual-gendered, but not to an extent that relationships with One Another are stigmatized.

They also largely get to escape from the most severe concerns about penetrator/penetrated power dynamics because they're not regarded as Men (they're regarded as dual-gendered, and they're a female social class on every practical level), there's no status of manhood to Lose by receiving sexual penetration. The only real thing you see in that department is people assuming that one acts as 'the man' and one acts as 'the woman', but this is largely due to preoccupation with a notion of sex being Penetration With A Penis (and that Penetration With A Penis means that one person is in a Man's Role and one person is in a Woman's Role). But this will not be regarded as unnatural as in same-gender male relations, akoshos will Have to take up a position in this sexual dichotomy if they want to have Real Sex (Penetration With A Penis) with each other, and this is not unnatural and doesn't involve gaining or losing status since they are simultaneously male and female, not men.

So like you might see individual culture critics finding stuff to nitpick about it as their annoyance of the week or a singular Guy here or there who thinks it's weird, but this isn't a widespread norm. The vast majority of people don't give a shit about akoshos having sex with each other. The worst thing you're likely to experience Solely by virtue of being in an akoshos-akoshos relationship is someone asking you (probably with genuine curiosity) which one does the man stuff and which one does the woman stuff.

Akoshos also don't experience Hard expectations for marriage (though there are societal pressures that make marriage an attractive safety net all the same, ESPECIALLY marriage to a man) so unofficial life-partnerships between akoshos are pretty much the Only same gender partnerships between unwed people that are going to go unquestioned. ((Sworn brotherhood is technically a same gender life partnership for men that is Functionally similar to marriage (in that it's a kin-making practice between unrelated adults), but the tradition is Built upon the assumption that both parties will be married to women and that a primary goal of this kinship is to provide security for both parties' wives and children)). Marriage obligations in general are more lax in the economically secure but not Wealthy lower mercantile classes (as obligations to support and perpetuate one's family are universal, but these obligations can be filled simply by having at least One son who can get hitched, and marriages in the lower classes have no political functions and therefore there's less reason to ensure All your children are wed (there's still incentives like dowry, but this is not desperately needed when a family is economically secure)). So akoshos in this class group tend to have a Lot more freedom in terms of their life arrangements and chosen partners (though still experience the limiting frameworks of structural misogyny in other capacities).

The only thing that is out of the picture is akoshos/akoshos marriage. Marriage in this society has a predominantly reproductive function, the concept of reproductively non-viable marriages is generally considered absurd. This is not JUST this culture's form of homophobia, as marriage is a very practical arrangement at its core - both in a reproductive capacity and as bedrock for the patriarchal blood-kinship family system that forms the core social unit. The idea of same gender marriage isn't just absurd because 'ewwww weird' it's like, that Cannot work within this system, it Cannot fill core functions of what a marriage intends to do here, the ways on which marriage and kinship are BUILT makes same gender marriage practically (rather than just socially) untenable.

The sole exception to the 'marriage = reproductively viable" rule is that akoshos can be married to men (which in practice is almost always as a remarriage after a man has secured At Least an heir). This has a Little bit of internal logic here in that they perform predominantly female social roles (thus are suited to being a wife, even if they can't bear children) (and also on practical levels of them having the same legal status as women) but it's really more of a 'this is just how it's always been' kind of thing. A lot of the older pre-Wardi identity dual-gender roles that got mashed together under the 'akoshos' name would have involved marriage to a man as a second wife/concubine, in addition to his primary wife who would bear his children. Men potentially having multiple spouses has not been retained as a cultural practice, but the notion that an akoshos Can be a wife to a man has survived into modern day legal and doctrinal practices around marriage.

So like this being said, marriage as it is legally defined is only between a man and a woman, a man and an akoshos, or a woman and an akoshos. In practice the latter two are comparatively VERY rare- a man/akoshos marriage cannot provide children (though an akoshos can practically fulfill all other obligations and duties of a wife), a woman/akoshos marriage Can provide children (and while akoshos cannot function as a male heir, these children Will take their akoshos-parent's family name (though the wife retains her father's family name)), but akoshos are legally grouped with women in terms of rights and privileges (including being permanently under legal domain of their father unless they have been legally handed off to a male husband) and Cannot provide hard power patriarchal support that this family system is built upon and therefore depends upon, which makes these marriages socio-economically insecure. They can obviously still be a good partner and parent, but this is not the same as having the Legal hard power of a patriarch.

Akoshos marrying each other would be reproductively and socially nonviable, and is treated as a similarly absurd concept to a man marrying a man or a woman marrying a woman. It's just not a part of the marriage and kinship framework, it's not a thing that you can Do.

#Akoshos are also probably like.... 1-2% of the population. Like its an Accepted gendered space but not a large one so it's less #'managed' in a lot of senses #It's actually kind of hard to 'access' the akoshos space to begin with. Like parents look for Signs In Early Childhood and most #akoshos are typically assigned their gender early.#If you don't manage to access this space there's a good chance of being Stuck as a man with any deviance from your expected #gender roles being the HIGHLY unaccepted 'male effeminacy' which is a VERY different concept than (though obviously has tensions With)#being akoshos. A lot of akoshos self-label as adults after losing support from their families in part for being '''effeminate men'''#(this is also kind of the only instance in which gender self-identification occurs on a basis that will be Broadly accepted. Though #this happens in the context of already being detached from one's familial support network and people not knowing you self-assigned)#There are also certainly Some cases where akoshos self-identify as adults and this is accepted by their fathers. For a variety #of reasons but unfortunately often it's going to be like-#'we must have missed something but whatever. glad our kid is actually supposed to be this way and isn't just effeminate'#Also much less likely to be accepted if they're an expected male heir without brothers to take up the role in their stead #And VERY unlikely in upper classes where family members are public figures. If you've been introduced as a man here you're probably #out of luck.#(Like you'll see accusations that adult-assigned akoshos are just pretending in order to disguise being male effeminates)#This position isn't freedom from gender norms or like. The equivalent of an accepted trans identity. It's its own assigned gender #space in an Expanded but strict binary with expanded but strict roles #Also the societal trends over centuries are showing signs of increasing collapse between the notions of 'effeminate man' (bad)#and 'akoshos' (normal). At this point the concepts are still very separate but the current societal trajectory is leaning towards the #akoshos role being phased out of its normalization (in tandem with Wardi culture becoming more intensely patriarchal with #the collapse of Wardi groups into one identity)#Like 600 years ago there was NOT a concept of 'effeminate man' and proto-akoshos roles were a #more central concept that enveloped divergences from expected masculinity. Whereas now the akoshos space is significantly narrower #and the concept of 'effeminate man' exists in tandem as a stigmatized descriptor. And things have gotten to the point of #people claiming that ''effeminate men'' will 'pretend' to be akoshos #The akoshos identity becoming stigmatized/phased out isn't inevitable but the tensions around it are definitely growing #Though there's also a sense that Peak Patriarchy has been hit and you're starting to see people pushing back at these norms in fairly #notable ways. There's not going to be like. A feminist revolution but civilian women getting more political freedoms (while the overall #context stays patriarchal) is a likely outcome which could also have side benefits of relaxing masculinity standards Somewhat

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beanghostprincess · 6 days ago

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I mean… wlw content get overshadowed by mlm ships everyday so it is insensitive a little

Not to sound too mean but what do you expect me to do? I get that sapphic ships get overshadowed and underrated all the time in comparison to achillean ones. Believe me. I am a lesbian who is constantly pushing their sapphic ships everywhere.

But you can't expect people to suddenly stop posting about the achillean ships they enjoy just because they're more popular than YOUR favorite ships. Is it bothersome that achillean ships get more attention for the sole reason of being a male pairing while sapphic ships get ignored or not even suggested? Yeah!!!! It's frustrating.

But if you want some change in the amount of content you see then it's YOUR fight only and others should be allowed to post whatever they like. If you want to post only sapphic ships or you're bothered by them being talked in the same light as achillean ones, then it's YOUR choice to make.

Fandom is NOT activism!!! Fandom is meant to be enjoyed in whatever way you want. Fandom is to interpret media in your own way. So, honestly, if I want to make a simple post comparing two ships I like, why should I be trying to defend myself here for that? If people don't like it, then they can just block me, scroll, move on, etc.

To think a post about comparing fictional ships is insensitive is insane to me, tbh.

#bro i just made a post comparing a sapphic and an achillean ship please relax lmao #& don't act like this isn't specifically about shuggy hate bc i'm sure if it had been any other mlm ship i wouldn't have been getting hate #can i just PLEASE run my account however i like #also touch some grass these are fictional characters and making a wlw ship more popular won't do any changes in real life #and even if it did bc after all fandom IS a social enviornment and normalizing sapphic relationships is great always:#you can't just tell people they're being insensitive when it's just a simple post #i understand your point i really do #you think that comparing a sapphic ship to an achillean ship is bad bc it makes it focus on MEN only #and we already live in a men's world to have to deal with more men ig #but !!!!!!!!! something really fun about fandom is that it's FICTION and it does not affect reality in any way #and yes it is bothersome in a social level that male characters are more popular and we can study that and be bothered by it #but to claim it's insesitive or bad or harmful is just plainly stupid #once again fandom is not activism and i don't owe anyone to change my posts to highlight other ships more when my acc MINE #tldr i hate these discourses bc it makes ME be rude when i hate that #in fact i wouldn't be this mean rn if it wasn't bc i'm getting A LOT of asks abt this bc of a simple post lmao #you know i have a job to care about it's insane to me that you have enough free time to go to other people's acc to complain

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angeart · 5 months ago

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hhau mimic arc rambles - part IV: the inbetween (hot spring bath)

(~5,5 k words) // other parts & au masterpost here

-- a piece of warmth in a cold wasteland (a piece of hope in a nightmare) --

It takes some time, to slowly patch up the wounds on their souls and bury the incessant fears. Scar and Grian have each other, and they aren’t letting go. Not this time. Not again. Never. (Unless we get our hands on this au which, oh, we have. Funny thing—)

It’s now the midst of winter, and they huddle from shelter to shelter, clothes wet from snow, progress slow as they have to constantly try and cover their marks. The food is scarce, and they’re using every trick Juni taught them in late autumn to stay safe and not starve. (The thought feels bittersweet, but they don’t linger on it.)

And one day, the sun disappears. [This will be the eclipse bonus ramble, dw about it rn <3]

In the aftermath, they’re both feeling destabilised and unsafe. Grian in particular grows to feel like even more of a liability, becoming quiet and withdrawn. Terrified Scar’d leave him, despite feeling like maybe it'd be for the best if he did. (Best for Scar, that is.)

Scar does his best to divert Grian’s attention from bleak thoughts. He talks about hope, and possibilities, and—most importantly—future. He remembers that one time [in a bonus fic we never finished kjxnb bUT ONE DAY] when Grian mentioned wanting a treehouse. Wanting a permanent place. Somewhere to stretch his wings. Somewhere to be.

He tells him, softly, that come spring, once the trees are less barren, they can try building one. They will do it! Scar will build as many as it takes. Each better than the last!

And one day, they’ll get far enough. And they’ll build one that’ll last. And they’ll be able to stretch their wings, free.

Grian isn’t sure how much he believes that. But he wants to. He wants to.

They wander through the lands, seemingly directionless. The winter is harsh. The violet is bright against the whiteness of the snow and the dark brown of the bare trees. Still, with stolen cloaks, they do their best with the circumstances, never feeling warm or relaxed.

That is, until they stumble upon something rare.

They find a cave that is warm and, curious and seeking shelter, they go in.

Inside, they find a large cavern with the ceiling caved in, sunlight pooling from the hole down onto a steaming surface of… a hot spring.

Scar gets immensely excited and, without hesitating, dives right in. The warmth is blissful, melting away all the aches and coaxing frost out of his bones. It’s the best thing he’s felt in a long time.

“I’m never getting out of here. You’re gonna have to drag me out. I am willingly turning myself into a raisin.”

Grian, unlike Scar, hesitates. His wings are still dirtied and full of debris, never preened, never touched. Kept dishevelled and dull to try to hide their desirable sheen. Flaring up with discomfort and aches, muscles tense and never stretched, in an attempt to turn them into something that’d be less of a beacon.

Getting them wet would mean washing off months of that effort. (Months of held-in suffering.)

And Grian wants to sink under the water and feel its warmth, relax into it just like Scar does, but he can’t. He can’t get through that mental block. So he just crouches on the side, sad and torn and wistful.

Scar tries to coax him in by assuring Grian they have enough time to dry them (he doesn’t use the word wings). But drying them isn’t the problem. The problem is making them bright again.

Scar doesn’t quite understand what is holding Grian back, but he tries to offer him ways to sidestep it without tacking a name to it. He holds out his hands and opts for goofiness, asking if Grian is shy, promising he’ll close his eyes, as if it was a simple act of undressing that was the problem. He’s trying to offer a simpler anxiety to latch onto, one more easily dealt with.

And despite the anxiety, Grian laughs a little at his antics. It’s barely a laugh, strained around the edges, but the fondness rings so clear through it.

But Scar’s suggestion doesn’t solve Grian’s problem, and Grian is wholly unwilling to name it and put attention to it—to the hopeless way he feels about the weight settled on his back.

Scar is stubborn and determined, trying to read Grian without pushing too much. He wades to a more shallow part of the pool and softly—and still so very lightheartedly—points out that Grian could take a dip there, feel the warmth, “And only half of you gets turned to raisins.” Endlessly aware of what they’re not saying, words tucked between the lines: Your wings don’t have to get wet.

Grian eyes the side Scar pointed out with enough suspicion, as if he expected the ground there to be playing a trick on him, in fact not solid at all. Slowly, he uncurls and shuffles over to peer at it, taut yet curious, unsure yet hopeful.

It’s timid, at first. The undressing, the reach for water. But as soon as his skin meets the warmth, yearning shoots through him and he can’t stop himself.

The water splashes in his rush to get in, something that delights Scar immeasurably.

And it’s quickly clear the water is only going to incite him to give in further, setting alight a craving for more. To keep sinking, to submerge all of his body, to melt against its warmth and let it make him stop aching.

Unable to resist but still unwilling to get his wings wet, he ends up opting to slump himself over Scar’s shoulders, letting most of him dip into the enciting warmth of the water.

The effect is instant: the warm water eases the hidden pains and tension right off, making Grian huff in relief as his hold on Scar turns lax, trusting Scar to keep him safe. It’s only Grian’s back that keeps some semblance of tension, wings held up above the water line even as the rest of him helplessly melts into it.

And Scar has to ask. Inevitably, the issue cannot be skirted around anymore. “Why don’t you want them wet…?”

Grian’s breath hitches, and just like that, all the tension and anxiety is back. Just like that, he’s pushing away, back upright into the shallow water, and then further, splashing as he goes, until he’s perched at the edge of the pool, safely out of its depths.

Arms wrapped around himself and shivering, Grian tries to breathe through the reminder of everything that’s wrong, everything that he doesn’t want fixed—can’t have fixed—attention pinned to his feathers that he reslots against his spine, dry and as small as possible.

But there's no sidestepping this anymore.

It’s only when he admits, words miserable and broken, muffled into his palms and edging a sob, that washing the wings would turn them into more of a beacon, that Scar truly starts to understand this.

It was always only implied and never spoken—the topic of feathers always carefully avoided to sidestep the panic lurking just beneath those words—now broken and brought up to the surface for the first time since Grian's freak out on that very first day so long ago.

It slots together in Scar’s mind now: It’s not just trauma and fear keeping Grian from allowing anyone (including himself) to touch his wings; it’s his unwillingness to brighten what he believes is to be a spotlight that’s made a home on his back. It explains weeks and weeks of unpreened, tucked back wings hidden uncomfortably under the cloak Scar gave him the day they found each other. What Scar thought was a deep-rooted anxiety born from the time they spent apart actually goes much, much deeper. The fear is a constant in Grian’s mind.

Scar pauses, taking the new pieces to the puzzle he’s been offered and pressing them into place, considering the proper approach. “Grian,” he tries again, voice soft. “One little soak isn’t going to make a difference.” (He wishes it would. He wishes Grian would wash them out properly, let them shine like they did before. He’d fight off the whole server if he had to in order to see that once more.)

Something desperate in Grian is latching onto Scar’s words. He’s begging himself to listen, to give in, to let go, to succumb. He sniffles, dropping his hands a little bit, looking over at Scar, silent plea written into his eyes. Please. Please please please.

He wants Scar to win him over. To convince him. To yank this tight knot of anxiety and let him breathe.

With a sigh, Scar continues. “We don’t have to wash them, just…” He hates going along with any part of this, but he’s not about to change Grian’s mind so easily. He has to bargain. “... One hour. One hour where you don’t worry so dang much. Just relax, forget everything else. Let me—” He doubts his word choice for a moment, but commits to it, considering them appropriate. “Let me watch your back.”

There’s a pause. And then, from his curled-up position, Grian asks: “One hour?” It’s small, a word just shy of crumbling to dust. He wants this. He needs this. He needs Scar to sway him here. But he can’t just give in. So he asks for more. He asks Scar to promise that this won’t cause anything bad.

"Nothing bad," Scar assures immediately, even if he doesn't truly have the power to promise that. He'll make it true. He's determined to. "I'll make sure of it. And you just relax."

The words bounce around in Grian’s head.

Nothing bad. I’ll make sure of it.

He sniffles, wrangling the ever-present constraints of anxiety, and then, ever so slowly, he uncurls. His hands drop from his face and his glistening eyes find Scar’s, locking onto them as if Scar was his life raft. “Okay.”

He isn’t sure he knows how to relax, not where his wings are concerned, but he’s been tense and scared for so long, he’s so tired, so greedy for the idea of it. And if Scar can somehow will it into existence, Grian will do his best to give himself over to him.

It’s slow. Every move hesitant and unsure, every Scar’s word soft and reassuring. He tells Grian it’s just the two of them here. He leads him, step by timid step.

Grian ends up draped over him again, arms wrapped around Scar's shoulders, trying to stifle his fears into his hold of him as they tentatively make progress into the warmth that begs Grian to surrender completely.

Grian’s coherency is slipping from his grasp as the warm water and the security of Scar’s presence take over. He hasn’t allowed himself to relax in so impossibly long, only ever forced by the circumstances. (Feeling faint, being wounded, dizziness pulling him to his knees—) This is different. This is so very different, and he finds himself simultaneously nuzzling against Scar and entirely letting go, his grip growing weak as Scar holds him with his back above water.

Grian’s wings falter and droop the littlest bit. He barely notices it. They’re hovering so, so very close above the waterline.

He hums, and they dip further, and—

He twitches, startled at the sensation of water against his feathers. Running on nothing but well-trained instinct, his wings flap, frantically splashing water.

Scar pulls Grian a little closer, keeping his hands firm and tight so he doesn’t drop him altogether. “Hey, hey, hey it’s okay. I’ve still got you.” He slides one leg out a little wider to maintain balance, continuing to mumble soft shushes. “The water won’t hurt ya, G.”

Grian pulls himself tight against Scar, his wing movements calming somewhat at Scar’s reassurance. They’re left treacherously hovering over the water again, unsure, as Grian buries his face in Scar’s neck, eyes tightly shut. He’s tense again, back at square one, and even the warmth of the water isn’t working enough to lull him out of it.

But Scar says the water won’t hurt him.

He knows that, right? He’s— The water won’t hurt him, it’s just the consequences he’s meant to be afraid of. But Scar already promised those will be okay.

Grian knows Scar doesn’t have the power to promise that.

Still, he tries to wrangle both the rational and irrational parts of his fear.

He breathes heavily, pressed close to Scar, and he whimpers a quiet, very unbrave sounding word: “Down?”

“Yeah?” Scar asks, a little unsure. “Do you— want me to let you down?” He doesn’t move his hands yet.

Feeling the steadiness of Scar's hands, Grian is sure that there won't be anything unexpected; not unless he agrees, nods, gives consent. But his head is so messy, not knowing how to communicate, and he's not sure he won't misstep.

"The wings?" Grian asks, and it's not much more coherent than the original question.

“The—“ Scar tuts his tongue, remembering to take the time to think. He glances over at Grian’s wings, something he very purposely tries not to do typically, but with Grian’s head tucked against his collarbone, he looks them over, curious. “Yeah, yes— you can let them down, G.” A small reassuring press of his fingertips. “Really.”

Grian takes a breath at the encouragement; it's damp and hot, water and scar's skin heating him up, both working on stealing all the tension out of him.

Gingerly and with a tinge of fearfullness, grian relents.

He lets his wings drop.

Tentatively, the feathers meet water. Calmer, this time. Expecting it.

Grian’s hold on Scar doesn't exactly tense up, but his fingers curl, feebly looking for a tidbit of purchase, something to hold onto as his wings spread and sprawl, rippling the water, floating atop it, and— And it's so warm and it feels so good to stretch them, to let them be without force and without pressure and—

There's a half-sob, something small and all too relaxed and relieved, as looseness floods through Grian. His fingers uncurl and he sags further against Scar, whimpering quietly without any real distress.

Scar can’t help the bright, genuine grin that spreads across his face at this success, even despite the small sobbing sounds—because he knows, he knows it’s from overwhelming relief. He had half a mind to cry when he first stepped foot in the water, so he can only imagine how Grian feels right now. “Shhh, good, good,” Scar coos, pressing a soft kiss into Grian’s hair. “Still got you.”

Grian makes a jumble of incoherent sounds at Scar's praise, melting further into the warmth. His eyes are closed and his muscles loosen bit by bit, aches stolen from them. He's not working to support any of his weight anymore, surrendering it all to Scar and to the water. He doesn't even register his wings fully; they float, and it makes them feel numb and nonexistent in the best of ways.

Loose feathers and dirt drift across the surface, the spot near Grian growing murkier.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Scar whispers, not wanting to disturb Grian’s moment of bliss here. He eyes the spot where the water darkens from the dirt and debris coming free from Grian’s wings, trying not to let it affect his mood, tug at his heart.

He wishes he could rake his fingers through the feathers and dislodge all the uncomfortable things that poke and prod at Grian on a daily basis. We wants to hold him closer and take care of him, wash all the troubles away, but—

Baby steps, he reminds himself.

Grian's mind is hazy, all of him melting into the warmth bit by bit. (He doesn't remember the last time he was warm.) He feels engulfed and cradled, held and supported, and it makes him want to drift off. He's melting further into it, eyes closed and mind pleasantly dazed. He thinks he might just stay here forever. (The insides of his wings are warm warm warm; the water gently bobs them, the muscles loosening after months of being stiff and taut.)

It reminds Grian of what it feels like to be comfortable. (He isn't sure he can quite grasp it; the feeling seems too big for his comprehension.) He lets out a long, reverberating hum, almost purr-like, sinking further into the water. His eyes are still closed. He's secure in the knowledge that Scar's still here, he's got him. everything is okay.

Everything is more than okay.

"'m gonna live like a raisin," he says as a vague threat, or a promise, or— or something. Something mildly delirious. He's never getting out of this lake. It's too nice. He's going to stay here and submerge himself in bliss and escapism.

“Yes!” Scar croaks out amidst some airy laughter. “Join me in the raisin life, Grian!”

Scar's laughter echoes around Grian, setting bright, joyful sparks behind grian's ribcage. He could listen to that sound forever.

While keeping his arms in place, supporting Grian so that he doesn’t sink entirely, Scar ducks his face back underwater and blows some bubbles, loving the feeling of having semi-clean skin for the first time in far too long.

Grian hears the bubbles. Curiosity gets him to crack one eye open, only to see it's just Scar being silly. Unbridled, a laughter spills from him and— He's laughed before, sure. Here and there, they’ve had their moments. But never before has his laughter felt so light in this world. Unburdened.

Scar’s ears flick attentively and he pokes his head back out to share a grin— practically beaming at Grian due to the delightful sound. It’s a genuine Grian giggle and Scar is loving it. It rings like victory, dancing across the air. Scar feels like he’s won a tiny battle. (And it’s a much-needed win at that.)

“Seriously,” Scar says, smile still pressing at the edges of his cheeks. “Dunk your head in— it feels amazing.”

The idea doesn't seem as daunting as before. Encouraged by Scar's delighted grin, Grian can't help but wish to oblige.

His wings flutter a little, and then he's tilting himself, taking a breath. No more warning is given before he fully submerges his head.

The water rushes around him, muffling the world instantly. It's warm all around him.

Just like Scar before, Grian also brings his arms to rub at his hair, reveling in the feeling until he needs to come up for air. He pushes his now-wet hair out of his face and blinks, before he settles with twinkling eyes set on scar, a wild grin on his lips. "I did it!" And he finds that he wants to do it again.

“Isn’t our hair disgusting?” Scar says, laughing and smiling like that’s somehow a good thing.

"It’s sooo gross," Grian agrees with a laugh. He drifts closer, reaching out to run his fingers into Scar's wet hair and rub at his scalp, wanting him to feel nice.

Scar makes an approving, happy hum and leans into the touch. “And you’d touch the gross hair? Wow, you must like me or something. How embarrassing,” Scar croons, grinning with all his teeth as he pesters Grian.

A growling noise rolls out of grian, but it sounds wrong, soft and unthreatening. He grins right back, and he moves closer, gaze flicking to Scar's lips. "Yeah. I guess I do like you. Or something." And then he presses on Scar, pouncing to use his own weight to push Scar under water. "But you should really wash them some more," he notes playfully with a laugh.

Scar barks out a half-yelp half-laugh as he’s submerged, bubbles rising to the surface until the noise escapes the watery prison when he comes back up. ”Wow,” Scar grumbles, absolutely no bite to his bark. “And here I was being so nice.”

Completely unphased by Scar's grumble, Grian cackles. And then he leans forward, hands settling on the sides of Scar's jaw as both of them drip water.

Grian's eyes close and he kisses Scar.

“Oh,” Scar’s mouth barely forms the words before he’s pressing closer, greedily kissing back. There’s a bit of whiplash from going from being dunked under to being kissed, but it’s a pleasant sort of ride, the kind of dizzying back and forth he would have always expected from Grian. Part of the reason he was always so drawn in.

Bouncing lightly in the water, Grian breaks the kiss only to press a laugh against the corner of Scar's mouth. He's holding onto him, fingers finding their way back into Scar's wet hair. His feathers trail ripples behind him. "Do you want to help me wash my hair?" he ends up asking, sounding so very hopeful and impulsive, eyes alight as he peers up to meet Scar's gaze.

“Yes!” Scar exclaims, instant. Because he really does want to.

Grian's expression brightens and softens simultaneously at Scar's quick agreement. Eager excitement settles abuzz under his skin, oddly fitting alongside the newfound looseness of his muscles.

Scar removes one of his supporting hands first, testing if Grian isn’t still melting into the water too much to handle it without them.

Grian shifts to readjust, to carry his own weight and stay floating. He gives Scar a small nod. "Floating raisin-in-training," he reassures, wildness tipping into an almost timid grin.

Scar snickers, highly amused by the continued bit. "I'm very impressed with the raisin's progress," he teases as he removes his other hand, allowing Grian to wade freely. "I wish we had soap. I still don't understand how to make soap." It's a mournful statement, but Scar manages to keep his tone light, as if it's a joke and not a genuine problem. He opens both palms and wiggles his fingers in a goofy invitation, letting Grian lead the way on how he wants to do this.

Grian doesn't, in fact, know how to do this. He just knows he wants Scar's fingers rub at his scalp and brush through his hair and he wants it all to be nice and good. (He wonders if his hair will be fluffy when it dries. Fluffy hair and somewhat clean skin. A luxury.) (He wonders how will Scar look at him, then.) "Should I... turn my back to you?" he wonders.

But turning his back carries many things with it. (Namely his wings.)

Scar’s eyes flick to the sprawled out feathers—a lightning-fast glance, trying not to be noticed—before he hums in thought. He doesn’t want Grian to have to reel his wings back in. He likes that Grian is finally relaxing them like this, having them splayed out without care.

So instead, he tries to say that this is good. That he likes facing Grian and looking at him. He steals a kiss, quick and gentle, drawing Grian’s attention away from any implications turning around might have.

Grian lets Scar's affection easily distract him; for once, he's not hyper-aware and hyper-vigilant about his wings, and so the warning thought dissipates before it even has a chance to form properly, everything in him instead paying attention to Scar's adoration and the promise of getting his hair washed. He giggles quietly into the kiss at Scar's exclamations. "Alright. All yours."

Scar’s heart swells at all yours, the words satisfying something small yet primal deep inside his chest.

But as it turns out, Grian floating in the water on his belly really isn’t a position suitable for hair washing. They fumble, Scar trying to throw out some pointless, dead-end suggestions, staying lighthearted even as it’s becoming clear that there’s no way around this.

Grian hums, glancing at his wings—the top feathers are still dry, as his wings float the inner-side down. The seeping warmth from the water keeps them relaxed and feeling good, and Grian doesn't even realise he's considering them without the usually instant flare up of anxiety.

"Let me try something," he murmurs, an edge of experimental pensiveness to his tone. He pushes himself away from Scar, using him solely for momentum, so he wouldn't have to wade to get more space. He spins, water rippling, feathers gliding across it.

He doesn't make enough space. His primaries almost brush against Scar.

Scar flinches back to avoid the wings, shocked by the casual nature in which Grian is currently treating them. He’s relieved, certainly, but slightly nervous as well. “You better not be trying to escape, you have a good fifty-some minutes of relaxation left, mister.”

Grian glances over his shoulder, chuckling at him, but doesn't deign to answer. He's climbing to the shallower part again; his wings are heavy, dragging him down as he fights them and flaps them around, sending droplets through the air. He curls them, bringing them forward, and with a squinted focus, slowly lowers them back down.

The water turns murky again in an instant, as the backs of grian's wings hit water. He almost slips off the perch of the platform as a wave of weakness rushes through him at how good the warm water feels on those spots. His eyes flutter shut without him intending for it, and a groan leaves his throat.

And then he's slipping off the edge back into the depths, this time purposefully. his wings are spread around him, messy and wet and wide, and—

He semi-floats on his back, his hair now dipped in water. It feels so insanely relaxing—a word he was forgetting even exists; he lets out a dazed hum, eyes still closed, temporarily forgetting his mission is to get back to scar.

Scar chuckles quietly to himself, trying to shield the sound with the back of his hand. He’s able to ignore the distress the muddied water caused him last time, too enthralled by the wide span of Grian’s wings, which he hasn’t seen in so long.

Even dirtied and drenched in water, they’re beautiful.

“Should I leave you alone with the water for a bit—?” Scar teases after another moment of admiring Grian. “Would hate to interrupt.”

Despite saying that, his hands itch to touch. They twitch and he hides them underwater, remaining patient.

"Mmmm." Grian lets the water gently push him around, and he keeps his eyes closed for a while, staying silent after Scar's question. But then he remembers: he's going to get his hair washed. Scar's fingers are going to press and rub against his scalp and—

"Please do interrupt," he begs, dark eyes dazedly finding Scar.

“If you insist,” Scar says like he’s not equally as antsy. He approaches with caution, careful to wade between any scattered feathers, then wiggles his fingers on either side of Grian’s head. “Any requests? Gentle? Deep tissue massage? Kisses or no kisses?” He hovers over Grian’s head as he asks, grinning.

Grian peers up at Scar, upside-down, and even though he appreciates Scar’s silliness and him offering choices, decision-making feels a bit overwhelming right now.

And yet as soon as he catches sight of Scar, he can’t help but tilt his head more, desiring more closeness. His hair submerges, obliging towards the task at hand, but there’s far more than that in the simple gesture: Grian’s throat is bare (so is the rest of him, to be fair) (exposed wings included), and there’s something eager about the way his lips fall slightly apart. “Kisses. Definitely kisses.”

Without hesitation, Scar leans down, smiling. “Oh excellent, that was my recommendation anyway!” He plants a kiss on Grian’s forehead to start, just a taste of what he’s offering, then threads his fingers into Grian’s flowing hair underwater, keeping his touch tentative for the time being.

Grian hums, both at the kiss and at the touch, a sound that reverbs in his throat. His wings spread a little more. He’s feeling pleasant and pleased, edging that state of melting into everything.

Scar starts by running his fingers through Grian’s hair, mapping out the territory and smoothing out his locks to make it easier for the proper cleaning.

Helpless to stop it, Grian finds his eyes falling shut again. Everything's so pleasant and lulling, he can almost imagine falling asleep here. (He's certainly tired enough for it, the dark bruising under his eyes speaking volumes about that.) He wants Scar to keep touching him, to keep brushing his fingers through his hair, to— to be here, in this, with him.

“Good?” Scar checks even though he knows the answer, his fingers still gentle; he wants to hear Grian say it, confirm that this is happening, that this moment is real amidst this server of hostility and cruelty.

“Good,” Grian purrs mindlessly.

Scar slowly adds more pressure, lightly scratching at Grian's scalp for maximum effect, trying to provide as much relief as he can.

Grian lets out little noises—sleep-laced, groggy little things—as he melts against every Scar's touch. He wants to tell him how really, really good it feels, but he can't find coherent enough words, nor make his vocal cords work. He just floats, in more ways than one. "'m sleep," he murmurs, as a warning.

He wants to look up at Scar, but his eyelids are heavy, his body gently bobbing in water that keeps him warm and relaxed. Scar continues effortlessly lacing his fingers through curls and working small bundles of hair through his fingertips to loosen any pesky dirt that's made home there, finding almost as much pleasure in this little routine as Grian does.

"Gosh, making it my job to keep you from drowning?" Scar scolds lightheartedly with absolutely no disdain. Truthfully, the wings might be working as enough of a feather floatie for Grian anyway, but Scar doesn't mind making up for where they slack.

"Mmmmhm," Grian confirms. His muscles are so lax. He forgot this was even possible. He hasn't felt pleasantly sleepy in so long—so many horrible dreams and endless fears and never-ending tension. This hot spring is tempting him to succumb to everything it offers, and Scar's hands are breaking the last of his resistance. "Won't let me..." he trails off, meaning to say won't let me drown. The sentense stays broken, sinking out of Grian's reach. "Trust," he murmurs, barely audible, word slurred with sleep.

Scar's about to ask who won't let him sleep, but understands that's not what's being said after he continues listening. He smiles. "Of course not," he confirms, lightly scratching behind Grian's earwings, a spot he himself took great relief from.

The scratch behind Grian's earwings sends something in him skittering and haywire in the best of ways. He chirps through the haze of sleep, unable to catch himself. His earwings flutter against the water, sending a small spray of droplets around them, but they settle back down quickly enough, limp like the rest of him. A drawn-out coo is coaxed from Grian's throat as he blindly tilts his head further into it, chasing the pleasant touch.

There's no tension to Grian’s expression, no fear marring the space between his brows.

It feels like a dream, if this world ever knew such a thing as good dreams.

Scar chews at his lip, swallowing down all the comments we wants to make about how adorable Grian is all relaxed and bird-brained. He's not so sure Grian is sleepy enough to resist groaning and quipping back at that, so he resists, wanting him to continue drifting.

He directs his fingertips over Grian's temple and to the top of his forehead, grazing his nails over the skin as gently as he can and massaging into the base of his hair. And he lingers. Keeps rubbing circles and tracing across Grian's hairline, taking his fine time as if he intended to clean each individual strand.

The way Scar is touching him would make Grian go positively insane if it wouldn't turn him into an incoherent puddle first. He hums, quiet, the sound barely there, edging dreamy delirium under Scar's attentive guidance.

He really does feel himself drifting, sleep latching on and consciousness waning. The combination of stacked-up tiredness and the wholly complete relaxation are taking him over and, before he even fully realises what's happening, he's completely limp, breath evening out.

He dips a little in the water, but stays mostly afloat anyway. Scar preemptively lifts one knee to catch Grian if his body starts to dip too far underwater, but he seems steady enough for the time being.

Content with his successful attempt to get Grian to relax, Scar goes for softer motions, just enough to keep the flow of pleasant sensations going without doing anything that could wake his sleeping bird.

After a minute or so, Scar sneaks a proper glance at Grian’s splayed out wings, how they fill the water around them with dirt and smaller pieces of debris. He has to resist plucking a twig from a close-by cluster of feathers, praying the water will do it for him. He settles for what he can do for now, not willing to abuse the trust Grian is offering him here by pushing his luck.

He hums a soothing, soft melody as he works, filling the space as he gets Grian’s hair clean, hoping to keep the avian’s sleep relaxed and nice. Without nightmares, for once. Warm and safe and spoiled.

Such strange concept for this world.

And yet even those things can exist here.

Scar watches his sleeping bird and he thinks that maybe there’s hope for them still after all.

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