defectiveduck
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Summary
The phone rang three times before a response came, “...Gri?"
The voice was groggy, and clearly muffled with exhaustion. Grian let out a shaky exhale. “Sorry, Scar.”
He could hear shuffling on the other end of the line. “Hm? F’what?”
“Waking you up?” Grian replied, trying (and failing) to keep the quiver out of his voice. “I-I just needed a distraction, didn’t realize I called you.”
There was a beat of silence, and a scream from the kitchen.
“...That’s fine, Grian. You can always talk to me.” Scar sounded far more awake all of a sudden.
Grian swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered, “You hear them?”
{OR: Grian is having a rough night. Scar just wants him to be okay.}
Recent bookmarks
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i'll make it easy for you by duskfel
Fandoms: Life Series | 3rd Life SMP Series, Hermitcraft SMP
25 Aug 2025
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Summary
At the end of 3rd life, Grian and Scar go home. They do not kill each other. There is no ring of cactus, no fists, no blood, no apologies.
It takes a few months of Grian slowly getting sicker, of the world cracking apart like cheap paint, for Scar to realize this was a mistake. It’s okay, because he knows how to fix it. How to save them, for good this time.
Bookmarked by defectiveduck
06 May 2026
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painted in a summertime that won't fade by evergrxxns for All54321
Fandoms: Life Series | 3rd Life SMP Series
26 Mar 2026
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A runaway artist-in-residence; an unworshipped god.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 789
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 3
- Kudos:
- 17
- Bookmarks:
- 5
- Hits:
- 99
Bookmarked by defectiveduck
24 Apr 2026
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“You’re on the other side of the storm now, you should be so proud” by Amethystfairy1
Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP, 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series
07 Mar 2024
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Grian had never been able to place himself very well on the old continent as a whole. His journey in this sick system had bounced him around, and it wasn’t as though he was often given much chance to get his bearings. Now that he was with Scar and Mumbo, he’d had plenty of opportunities to look at the maps or listen to them plotting their routes. That didn’t instantly give him a better grip on where he’d been previously, though. That's why he didn't realize till that roofline seared into his memory was coming into view over the treeline. Tasteful pale blues and yellows reflect the house crest that was emblazoned on the bronze inset in the front walkway. Gently sloping rooflines that arched into points with perfect symmetry between the two huge wings. It was a stunning place nestled on the crest of a grassy knoll. He knew as well as the scars he could trace along his spine, as well as the cigarette stubs snuffed against his wings with wicked intention.
Lovely place for a hellhole.
{In which Grian looks over his shoulder, Mumbo puts together some context clues, Scar gets tunnel vision and painful memories are left beneath the dirt}
(Febuwhump 2024 - 15 - "Who did this to you?")
Series
- Part 16 of Amethyst's Febuwhump 2024
- Part 40 of Traveling Thieves {Dark Fantasy AU}
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"You've got cobwebs everywhere," Scar pouts. “And sand, seriously, songbird, you sure you’re alright? Do you need anything else?”
It’s not like it’s illegal to ask someone to preen your wings. It's an emergency. It wouldn't actually mean anything. And Scar doesn’t even know. It’s only weird if Grian makes it weird.
"Actually," Grian says. "Um. Do you think you could help me with my wings?"
He makes it weird.
Series
- Part 2 of this anon’s fics
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Summary
“You’re shivering,” he says quietly. “Why don’t you come in?”
He would like to do anything but that. Looking at Scar now he can practically see the blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth, shadows playing tricks on his eyes whenever Scar so much as turns his head. His fingers are brands on Grian’s arm, and so he moves away, prying himself out from under his touch and gaze the best he can without shattering further. Scar doesn’t remember. There was no spark of familiarity when Grian asked about anything they’d built together. Only a thick layer of concern.
“I’m sorry,” Grian says on instinct, straightening up a little bit. His wings fold in naturally, and he fights for any semblance of control. Or at least to look a little less crazy. “I– it appears I just had a bad dream.”
(or, Grian is the winner of Third Life. His prize is to remember.)
Series
- Part 3 of strange fascinations!