#dose of grian

[eluminium]

Obsessed with whatever the fuck this interaction was from yesterday's stream:

Scar: *makes a wheelchair joke* Skizz, while giggling: We can't join you on those jokes Scar! Scar: You could Skizz. Come to the dark side with me. Skizz: Okay, I'll do that but you have to make MS jokes to me! Scar: I don't know any MS jokes! ...You MS! Augh, I can't think of anything! Skizz, giggling again: "You MS!"? That's just terrible! Scar: I don't know, that just seems so worse! What am I gonna- YOU and your MYELIN! No! That makes no sense! Skizz: Yeah yeah! You and your...STUPID nerves and WEAK myelin! You and your DEFENSE SYSTEM attacking you NEUROLOGICALLY Scar: What? You on your 20 000 dollar drug a month over there? *Both giggle* Scar: I can't think of anything! That feels so wrong! Skizz: Use your hands while you can, Skizz! Scar: OHHH NOOOOO THIS GOT SO DARK! Skizz: You should be drumming now man! Your beats are numbered! Scar: NO! :(( I feel bad Grian! Grian:

#skizzleman #goodtimeswithscar #grian #gtwscar #hermitcraft #an eye for an eye i suppose? #or well #a disability joke for a disability joke #these two are insane #i love them #dose of skizz #dose of scar #dose of grian

[ornithology-draws]

Secret life doodle :I

The egg

#grian #grian fanart #eggs #life smp fanart #secret life fanart #your daily dose of caffeine

[janecat31121]

drew grian and his frog :]

.

.

a close up of his frog cuz why not lol

alrr thats all. i have another art that i may post tmrw! 👀

reblogs would be cool!

#grian #grian fanart #hermitcraft fanart #mcyter fanart #hermitblr #art #artist #digital art #fanart #my art #artists on tumblr #hermitcraft #grianmc #grian minecraft #hc grian #hermitcraft grian #mcyt fanart #i been trying to post this since 2 days ago #lets see if this posts #and if it dose #i hope you guys like it #janecat31121 art

[redwinterroses]

man i love following Grian Minecraft's chill, lore-free content. man is so chill. never implies tragic off-screen backstories, never does any lore. oh certainly not lore. he can't touch the stuff, he's allergic, has a doctor's note to prove it. love that for him.

#my dash is a mix of ''GRUMBOT PRIME KILLED HIS DIMENSION'S GRIAN'' and #''GRUMBOT PRIME ESCAPED A HORRIBLE DIMENSION IN SEARCH OF ONE WHERE HIS BELOVED FATHER WAS STILL ALIVE'' #with a healthy dose of ''what did i just watch'' #haven't had a chance to watch g's ep yet... give me a couple hours #iskall released vault hunters okay i have priorities

[megabuild]

so here's how hermitcraft's pet postal service is gonna go. grian sits down at his desk and starts handwriting a beautiful love letter to scar perfumed with flowers and the slightest hint of gunpowder. he signs it with a kiss. he laces the inside of the envelope with ricin. he licks the inside of the envelope to stick it shut immediately after this, but thankfully the poison doesn't kick in until he's already sent it in. etho picks it up the next day and puts it in his bag full of letters for scar, most of which are irs demands, and at the end of the week he throws them all into the river. the ricin leaks out and poisons the water supply. thankfully it's in such a small dose that everyone just gets a minor headache, except grian, who died two weeks ago, but everyone think's he's doing a prank and the rest of his neighbours hoisted his corpse up and throw golden apple cores at it to try and make him laugh and break character. i forgot where was i going with this sorry

#mine

[fuzzy2846]

the demon on my shoulder said i needed to stop gate keeping so here’s some art guys‼️‼️😞🙏

more below;

the lapis is scott and the peridot is grian and the jasper hands are scar!! ^_^ (i may or may not be making my own gemcyt au:333) (also those are all screen shot/scene re draws)

emerald dose not belong to me, they belong to my friend @d0not-disturb !!:D

#mcytblr #mcyt #grian mc #grian fanart #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #gtws #gemcyt #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #empires smp #empires s1 #lizzie ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #motherspore #mother spore #mycelium resistance #grian #ldshadowlady #my persona #persona art

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

I think Grian's flavour of clinginess and inability to be separated from Mumbo is my favorite thing ever, because it's basically all built up around the fact that he needs to be ruining Mumbo's day every waking moment of his life or he goes a little bit stir crazy

He needs his proper dose of pestering this one guy he imprinted onto super hard half a decade ago or else he'll get malnourished and die

If Mumbo isn't either exasperatedly repairing whatever redstone Grian ruined or being dragged along by him to cause even greater problems then Grian crumples in on himself and implodes

#I love ot so much because of how it so perfectly reflects a certain aspect of my relationship to rhyme #if I'm can't pester my twin consistently throughout the day I start internally clawing at the walls and screaming #/mild exaggerating #rambling about blorbos #waffle duo #grian #mumbo jumbo

[soldierkitten]

Just saw your pinned post and I am begging you I need more. I am a sucker for magical warrior (my gender neutral term for magical girl) AU's. And seeing as the warriors will be hotguy and cuteguy is making me just Squeal with excitement/joy. Now for some questions.

1) Are Grian and Scar's Warrior names actually cuteguy and hotguy because that would be awesome.

2) Can I expect the stereotypical, hotguy, and cuteguy looks for their magical armor/outfit

3) What are their weapons and magical abilities (exa. Can grian summon wings to fly. Is Scars weapon a boy and dose he get unlimited arrows.

4) You know, those like mini bosses. The ones who are in charge of collecting bad energy or whatever in magical warrior shows the. ones who make the things the warriors fight. Is Pearl and those other two whom I don't remember the name of going to become such people.

im glad people like it! that makes me very happy :D I have a google doc with the story planned out, hopefully I can get around to finishing it. here are your answers :

I haven't thought abt giving them magical names, but scar does scream hotguy when he shoots his bow (like a fancy finisher move)

since I cant stick to one design, I am considering a new design per chapter sort of deal. most likely each design will be a ref to something else

my current idea is that their powers change along with their outfits, but the one constant is scar has long range weapons and grian has short range weapons (an excuse to potentially give scar a gun and grian boxing gloves, I just think thats funny)

just pearl is spreading the corruption (muahahhahaha), everyone else around her is too head empty to realize something is up with her not-a-dog

#Tilly the god au #ig im just going to use that tag from now on?

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Dragon parrot winged grian anon here.

Xiuma and Evil x were space pirates, but X got captured and lost his memories, still having vague memories of his past life and clung to what he could remember of that past (being the origin of hermitcraft).

Ex went on a rampage the first 2 years of x's disapareance and the next few years are unknown, but whatever happened in dose years made Ex crew leave. Ex personality has been getting closer to how it was before (because of the nice environment of the hermits).

.

#hermitcraft #xisumavoid #evil xisuma #mod mleem

[bantaro-bird]

Dose Grian walk when theres a windy day? Bc all I can think is him trying to fly against the wind and just go 'Swoomp' the other way

There he goes

#grian #bans art

[angeart]

hhau mimic arc rambles - part I

(~3k words)

One of the hybrid races is a mimic/changeling, a shapeshifter that can take the appearance of another person. They are the most likely to live in relative peace, as they can trick their way into looking human, but they live in constant fear, as one single slip-up can mean their death. 

There is another fate for a found-out mimic, though, and that is being used by hunters, as a lure for other hybrids. If the mimics want to live, they have to do what the hunters say, and bring prey that dies in their stead. 

At a time when Grian and Scar stumble upon a mimic, they’re already kind of  notorious in this world – a vex with a kill count and a rare violet-winged avian, greatly desired by hunters for trophies and rewards. (There are wanted posters and everything.) 

Now, our mimic for this story arc is one that is being used by hunters, and has been used by them for quite a while. But now he’s posed with the reality of Scar and Grian, two hybrids who have managed to escape hunters for so long, and— He thinks maybe, maybe he could swap his place with Grian. Maybe he could take that safe spot by Scar’s side, this vex who has killed his pursuers before, clearly capable of defending both himself and his avian. If the mimic could take Grian’s place, he could be protected. He could get away—

He is sent in as a lure, but he decides to take his fate into his own hands. (For better or worse.)

 The mimic finds an opportunity when Scar and Grian are slightly separated, and ambushes Grian. Doses him with weakness potions (he needs him quiet and still), copies his look, and hides him in a ditch under a pile of leaves. He uses maybe one too many potions, because Grian wouldn’t stop trying to move (he’s so so so terrified), but he also makes sure to take the time to hide him properly. (He doesn’t really want to sacrifice anyone to the hunters anymore—but he also knows where to go looking if this fails and he needs to make a sacrifice anyway.)

The mimic finds Scar, and tries to lure him in a different direction. (Away from Grian. Away from the hunters.) Scar instantly knows something is wrong; he knows Grian’s face by heart, and this isn’t a perfect copy. It’s too clean. Freckles slightly wrong. There are no deep bruises under Grian’s eyes from sleepless nights, no wear from countless tears that Scar’s vigilantly brushed away. 

But it does look like Grian. It sounds like Grian, afraid and pleading and vulnerable. 

Scar’s so hopelessly weak to it, so lost, so conflicted.

So while Scar asks where the real Grian is, he has next to no cards in his hands for this bargain. He can’t threaten violence, because he isn’t capable of it, not against a Grian-lookalike. All he has is despereate pleas, hands trembling, heart panicking, and eyes filling with tears.

The mimic is reluctant to release answers, clinging to the charade. He needs Scar to believe he is Grian, to protect him. To take him safely away from here. (But that ship’s sailed.) (He screwed up.) But if Scar won’t take him away from here— well, then the hunters are going to kill him. He’s terrified, and it isn’t even an act.

Two different kinds of honest, open desperations clash, and a deal is made.

Scar promises he’ll protect the mimic. Not only until he has Grian back, but after that, too. (He recognises the mimic is just scared. He’s a hybrid in distress, just like them.) It’s a heavy promise, but worth it if the cost is Grian’s life.

They go back to Grian, barely conscious but safely buried under leaves, and Scar immediately gathers him in his arms, relieved and reassuring, holding on. Lifting him up (something he’s intimately familiar with now; carrying Grian’s weight is so easy and natural to him at this point), he notes that they need to go. They – all of them, including the mimic.

The mimic trails after them like a cleaner version of Grian, holding himself timidly and one step behind, like a lost puppy. He’s relieved he wasn’t left to die; that the promise really holds. That despite everything, Scar is still willing to help him.

The situation that follows is difficult for everyone involved. 

Once the weakness wears off, Grian is very unhappy with the circumstances. He’s willing to deal with the situation, because Scar gave a promise, and Grian wants Scar to be able to keep his promises. They’re in it together. They’ll see it through. 

That doesn’t mean he isn’t unnerved and uneasy about this whole thing. Mainly because the mimic still looks like Grian. He’s anxious at every little interaction Scar has with the mimic. Watching and waiting, for the moment when the line blurs. For the possibility of Scar not being able to tell them apart.

Scar can tell them apart, so innately and intuitively. There’s a difference to their words. To the way they hold their wings. To the way they reach for him, the way they apply pressure with their touch. The way they say his name. (Grian always puts so much in just Scar’s name.) (It’s more timid and unfamiliar on mimic’s tongue.) But he can still tell that Grian is uncomfortable with this arrangement. He sees the way Grian goes withdrawn and quiet. He doesn’t like it.

The mimic tries to understand their dynamic, and he finds himself jealous and confused, something in him aching. He sees the way Scar cares for Grian, the ease with which he provides reassurances and affection, and he hurts to have a sliver of that too. 

But Scar is kind to him. He’s gentle and soft. The mimic doesn’t remember last time anyone came close to caring about him, and this staggers him to no end. Touch-starved and desperate, he quickly finds himself craving for more. 

There is a lot of missteps that happen. And a handful of things that go right.

The mimic grew up in this world, and is much better at scavenging and recognising safe food and hidden cracks in terrain for possible shelter. He helps out whenever he can, eager to please, wishing so much to be able to at least somehow return the favour. 

And yet when Grian and Scar curl up for the night, he’s still alone, on the sidelines. He looks on with so much painful yearning, but also knows that it’s not his place. It will never be his place. He’ll never get to know how that feels like. 

He can’t slot into that place that Grian gets to have. He knows, viscerally, that if push came to shove, he wouldn’t be the one Scar’d save, between him and Grian. They are letting him stay, but he’s disposable.

He understands.

Or— he thinks he understands, anyway.

(He really wishes to be Grian.) (He isn’t, he can’t be.) (He— who is he, though?) 

Over time, as he realises they aren’t going to chase him away at any second, he grows bolder and more curious. He’s more at ease with his wings than Grian is, not having the burden of associated trauma. They’re clean and brilliant, and they brush against Scar so very easily. He seeks out his presence often, feeling the safest when he’s next to Scar’s side—a spot that was never meant to be his. 

Grian watches, and he wonders. He wonders if this other version of him isn’t better for Scar. Without panic attacks and inaccessible wings and soul torn-apart by wounds that bleed through so easily. This version of him capable of getting them dinner and recognising hunters’ traps from a distance. 

He wants to ask Scar again, if he wouldn’t be better off without him.

He asked him once, all the way at the start, back when they found each other in this horrible world. He told Scar to leave. And Scar said, never.

And yet. Here Grian is, wondering again.

On top of all of this, there’s also a ribbon incident, one which I will write separate rambles about. Or maybe a oneshot fic. We’ll see which way my hand slips. What you need to know about it, though, is that it results in the mimic adjusting his appearance. 

And oh boy. Does that open a whole another can of worms.

The mimic can’t change his appearance completely at will. He can borrow, and steal, and, well, adjust, to a degree. 

The adjustments he makes, when asked to stop looking like Grian’s exact copy,  are—

Make his hair slightly darker than Grian’s. 

And—

Make his wings dull brown.

(you can see how that looks like here)

This is a big deal, in a world where Grian’s wings are a beacon and a burden and his greatest source of fears and insecurities. To see his look-alike take that vulnerability and overwrite it so easily, strip it down and turn it into something muted and unassuming. Take the cursed wings and twist them into something much more safer, when he himself can’t do a damn thing about them— He isn’t sure how to deal with it. How to bear having this display rubbed into his face every day. How to swallow down the building nausea and the ever-increasing doubts.

This mimic is a better version of him.

Scar would be so much safer with him, instead of with Grian. Grian and his wings that attract trouble and enemies and—surely, inevitably—death.

He has a front-row seat to what it could look like, if only his feathers were different. But he’s powerless to change them. He just grows more upset with them, with himself, with what he is. (A burden a burden a burden.) (Going to get Scar killed.) 

So, quietly, Grian withdraws further.

This all amounts to: the mimic grows attached to Scar, and craves some form of love and safety, in a world that was only ever scary and hurtful to him. But through this all, him and Grian never really build a bond. That’s not to say there aren’t good moments between them. But the missteps outweigh them. It’s all too complicated. Too stifling. There’s no easy way to untangle it or fix it.

They carry on like this for a while, but it’s clear this isn’t working. It’s clear to Scar, because he can see that this hurts Grian. And he feels helpless, because he doesn’t quite know how to fix this. All he knows is he needs Grian to be okay. And his gentle reassurances and soft affection and tight hold at night? They aren’t enough.

So one night, they talk. 

Scar asks if it isn’t working. And Grian shakes his head to dismiss it, even though clearly it isn’t working. He’s reluctant to say he wants it to be just the two of them again. That he can’t bear the sight of this other version of himself, interacting with Scar with such ease, earning softness from him. Imagining what it would be like to be replaced. He just doesn’t want it to be like this. He can’t stand it. But he doesn’t want to forsake another hybrid. He knows how scared the mimic is. How harsh this world is. How unforgiving. So how can he say any of it?

Scar doesn’t force him to explain any of it. He takes the scraps Grian gives him, and lets them be enough.

Quietly, in the depth of night, they throw around a tentative suggestion. Maybe they could leave the mimic somewhere safe? Maybe that would be the best course of action? To keep Scar’s promise and to stop them from falling apart? It feels like it might be something to consider. But it’s late and they’re tired, and maybe they should think on it some more. They leave it hanging on a fragmented, bitter hope with a maybe.

The mimic, curled up on the floor with his back to them, wide awake, hears all of this.

He can’t go back to being alone, fending for himself. He’ll get captured again. He’ll get killed. But more than that, he can’t stand the idea of losing that gentleness Scar steadily provides. He doubts he’d be able to survive on his own in a cold, cruel world without anyone looking out for him, and he doesn’t know how to live without that scrap of kind softness. Shared evening meals and sprinkled laughter and fleeting touches. Someone to talk to. A hand to hold when afraid. 

He doesn’t know how to be without those things anymore.

So he makes a plan. Terrified and desperate and sick to his stomach, but finding himself cornered and at a dead end. He’s grasping at straws. He’s—

He’s going to make this work. 

He won’t be abandoned. He won’t be discarded. He won’t be left to die.

 Once they fall asleep, the mimic copies Grian’s look. Properly copies it. Every bruise and scratch. Every freckle and misaligned feather. And he tucks it away for later. Waits for his chance, for Grian to be out of sight.

He still has a couple of weakness potions on hand.

All it takes is one moment. One moment of Grian being on his own. 

The mimic drops weakness on Grian—a lot of it. He incapacitates him properly, hastily steals the ribbon and the cloak, and then he sneaks up on Scar and uses another weakness. This time just one, before ducking away. 

His little plan whirring to life, the mimic shifts to his perfect Grian copy and approaches from a different side. He drops to his knees, frantically asking Scar if he’s okay. Convincing him that the mimic tried to ditch them, he saw him running away and they need to move in case he went to snitch to the hunters. He sounds terrified. Playing the perfect role of Grian in distress.

He’s using everything he learned from watching Grian—all the things Scar used to so easily, so naturally tell them apart. Voice inflections and touch pressure and the way Grian holds his wings, all of it. Pushing fear and urgency into his voice, constantly calling Scar’s name, checking on him, asking if he is okay, if he can walk, insisting in a panic-pitch that they need to go.

He sounds so so afraid. (He sounds Grian-afraid—Grian is terrified of hunters.) He’s begging Scar to move. He knows it’s hard, he knows, but please please Scar, try anyway. 

Scar is dizzy and sick and confused from the potion, head foggy, too sluggish to think. He’s correct in a guilt-riddled realisation that the mimic betrayed them, but completely wrong as to how the mimic betrayed them. (He tells “Grian” that he’s glad he’s safe. He’s sorry for trusting the mimic. He’s sorry this happened. He trails off. Everything’s spinning.)(Grian is panicking and Scar is so weak to seeing him like this. He listens. He does his best to stand up. To reassure. To help. To go, go, go.)

The mimic swallows the guilt, the raw, bitter awfulness of what he’s doing. And, desperate to put enough distance between them and the real Grian, so that Grian could never trace them, never find their way back to them, to never shatter his lie, he leads Scar deeper and deeper into the forest. 

And oh, he’s doing such a good job of pretending to be Grian. Even if Scar is dazed, perception hazy and thoughts unstable. The mimic is stellar in his performance this time, not leaving space for doubt. (Grian’d hate that he has him copied so awfully well.) (And oh, wasn’t he always afraid this would happen? Wasn’t he terrified that one day, Scar won’t be able to tell them apart—?)

Grian didn’t get the courtesy of being pulled  into a ditch and covered up by leaves this time. He was left lying in the open, bright wings helplessly sprawled, unable to do anything. (There was no time—) He’s scared for Scar, not knowing if he’s okay. He’s terrified of the forest and his own utter defencelessness. He’s lowkey having a panic attack, but his body is too numb to do anything about it.

The potions don’t wear off completely yet when he’s found and attacked. 

Weak and sluggish and stumbling, and so very alone, he scrambles to fight for his life.

--

On the mimic’s side, a week or two pass, filled with him sneaking diluted weakness into Scar’s water supply, to keep him slightly dazed just enough so that Scar doesn’t look at him too closely. And they keep going, further and further away. Scar doesn’t know why he’s still feeling so weak and off. He isn’t sure where they’re going, either. He thinks Grian seems anxious, as if they were possibly being pursued (not an outlandish idea at all, in this world), and Scar doesn’t quite know how to unknot his own guilt about this whole situation. (Oh if only he knew, right?) So he goes, because going is all they’ve done these months anyway. Constantly on the run. Constantly hiding.

But the weakness runs out.

Scar is finally feeling clearheaded again, and he’s so relieved. He will be able to pull his weight now, take some of the burden off Grian. They’re okay. They’re okay and—

One wrong reaction. One misunderstood question. One anxious, scared, paranoia-riddled heart jumping too fast. That’s all it takes. 

One wretched  apology.

One pause. 

One small, shaky, uncertain “... Grian?” Begging to be wrong.

The possibility is snaking its way into Scar’s brain and he's terrified.

It’s been days. It’s been days since they ran away from the mimic. It— Surely, Scar is wrong here?

Scar’s fingers brush over Grian’s earwings. He’s not allowed to touch them. Grian wouldn’t let him. Grian—his Grian—would spiral into panic at the lightest touch against any of his feathers. And—

And this isn’t his Grian.

Anger, fear, hopelessness. Pointless apologies. Questions Scar isn’t sure he wants to know the answer to. (He needs to know.) (He needs to—) (Where is Grian?)

“We left him behind.”

We.

Scar wants to argue there’s no we, but… It’s true, isn’t it? They both did.

They left Grian behind. Days ago. Alone and without supplies. In a world that desires nothing more than to slaughter him. 

Anger topples into despair. Scar feels like he’s losing himself, vex magic thrumming through his veins, wild and uncontrollable. Nails shift into claws. He’s ready to tear this wretched world apart if it’d mean Grian is safe—if it’d mean Grian is alive.

Reaching out, Scar yanks the stolen ribbon off mimic’s wrist. He grabs the cloak and pulls it off of him. (He needs to return them.) (Where is Grian where is Grian where is Grian) 

Not knowing which direction to go, Scar goes anyway.

The mimic doesn’t follow.

--------------

find more in the hhau au masterpost>> here

#hhau #mimic arc #as promised! the rambles! #pART ONE! #yes there's more to come #and me and link might eventually compile some oneshots for this too #for all the skimmed over details

[eluminium]

The apologetic Grian hug afterward is adorable <3

#impulsesv #grian #hermitcraft charity event #his giggles also #they're so cute #i love them!!! #dose of impules #dose of grian

[ornithology-draws]

just gonna put this here

#desert duo #grian fanart #3rd life #gtws fanart #life smp fanart #your daily dose of caffeine

[thatonehomosexual79]

Ok hear me out- 3rdLife Flower Husbands but..swapped roles- Scott dies first and Jimmy has to take revenge for his husband but Jimmys not the smart one their still the same but Scott dose different things like he dose Tangos Lava game first and dies and he messes with Grians trap first and dies and he goes in the bunker and dies- idk he could have his own version of the Canary curse or something idk just what if Jimmy had to deal with a dead husband and the lily on the grave is a blue Lilly instead of a red one- just a thought

don’t mind any spelling mistakes in this I’m tired

#flower husbands #minecraft #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #3rd life #mcyt #third life #3Lsmp #trafficshipping #traffic series

[derpqueen22]

Joel fails miserably

Inspired by @your-daily-dose-of-caffeine's fanart

The winds picked up as Joel climbed higher and higher, threatening to push him over the edge any minute. 98….99….100. As he placed the last block. He took a moment to think about what he was about to do. He could hear the muffled yelling from his friends gathering down beneath him, Martyn was slowly climbing up the pole, ready to take a guess at his task. He could almost hear Grian’s protests to ‘be careful’. Joel knew Grian was anxious. Why was he scared again? It wasn’t like Grian’s the one up here. He shook his head, clearing any thoughts that would prevent him from completing his task. Joel needed this. It was almost like someone was watching him, not from below, but from above, egging him to jump. Egging him to fall. Egging him to DIE. Joel jumped. The wind grew stronger and stronger at each minute of his fall, whistling in his ear. He could feel the pressure of the atmosphere getting stronger. He fumbled to get his water bucket out of his inventory. Why didn’t I have it in my hand in the first place?! I’m such a blummin idiot.  I should’ve come prepared. I’m such a- Pain shot through his legs, his consciousness was fading, he could hear Grian’s anguished scream, the audience was in shock, He missed the water! I can’t believe he missed the water!  Someone..someone was laughing, laughing at him. He struggled to look up to find the culprit,  just to see a black figure with looming wings, all his eyes (eyes?) were filled with humour. The figure resembled someone he knew, someone he thought he could trust. “Grian?” Joel muttered. And then he passed out.

#life series #traffic smp #secret life #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #joel beans #watcher lore #grian #watcher grian #life series martyn #inthelittlewood #martyn inthelittlewood #Favorite I've ever done so far #I quite like angst

[ti-girl1226]

The reason Tommy didn’t take his pain meds

I’m sure by the title you can already tell but this mentions medicine and addiction, addiction is a mental/physical disorder that many people have or are suffering from. If you need help please contact someone for that, and if you are clean Im happy and proud of you. Anyway I was feeling a bit sad and went back to my dsmp stage so you get hermit Tommy because I’m like that. I hope you enjoy :)

Tommy has always been a bit of a hassle when it comes to recovery. Grian and the other hermits knew that. And it was always an issue. But this time there’s been something was different, he acted strange when stress gave him the pain meds and told him to take them in the morning for a week. Tommy shifted and awkwardly took it. He seemed apprehensive, like he hated them and couldn’t trust them. The next few days Tommy would be flinching when putting pressure on his wounds and he thought nobody noticed. But the hermits slowly noticed over the days, and when Tommy didn’t come out when he usually did. Grian grew suspicious, so he went to look for him. When he entered the house he looked around and eventually got to the kitchen, that’s when he grew more concerned. The meds stress had proscribed were untouched, but that’s not the only thing, they were sitting on the highest shelf far back where even Tommy couldn’t reach. It was strange. But then Grian heard something that made his stomach drop. A faint whimpering coming from Tommy’s bedroom. Grian didn’t think and quickly ran to Tommy’s room, Tommy was curled up on the floor crying. He was holding the area around his injured sobbing. 

“Tommy?” Grian asks rushing to his side parental instincts kicking in. “What’s wrong? Why haven’t you been taking your meds? Are you okay?”

Tommy’s weakness shows through his tears “it hurts make it stop please make it stop.” He cries, Grian doesn’t know what to do except get him help. He quickly sends out a messages ‘Tommy hurt need help, where to go.’ The chat explodes with concern messages but through them doc with a reply ‘my house is fine.’ Grian waist no time scooping up the crying Tommy and spreading his wings and flying to docs residence. When he enters stress is already there and they take Tommy away too look at him.

“He’ll be okay,” says scar from his wheelchair while grian pieces infront of him.

“You don’t get it he didn’t even touch his meds,” the red winged man says as he pulls slightly on his blonde hair “why wouldn’t he want the pain relief? Why didn’t he take them? Dose he not trust us still? Why didn’t he take them?” Shouting form the medical room stops the man in his rambling.

“No no get away I won’t take it!?” A familiar voice yells out. Tommy need help is all grian thinks as he runs into the room the boy was in. His wings puffed out as he stands looking at Tommy as he plasterers himself against the wall across the room from stress and doc. It’s so similar to when he first landed on hermitcraft that it’s somewhat scary to grian. Did all this hard work to make him better not work? Has Grian failed, as a parent? (Why did he think that Tommy’s not his kid and Tommy doesn’t see him as his dad so why did he-) 

“We tried to give him pain meds but he won’t allow us, we tried explaining that it would help.” Says Doc snapping grian out of his thoughts. Grian looks at Tommy with concern walking up to him slowly and getting down this level (tommy is on the floor like curled up.) 

“Tommy, why won’t you take the meds? Did your perverse server do something to them while you were on the server?” Ask grian in a soft voice, calming down Tommy, slightly expanding his wings to block Tommy from seeing doc and stress who tried to give him the meds.

“No.” Tommy replies cowering slightly as his voice breaks.

“Then why don’t you want to take them?”

“I… I’ve been clean for so long I don’t want to fuck it up again.” His void cracks as he says it not looking at grian. If he was he would have seen the shock,anger and finally pity. 

“Oh Tommy you should have said something,” grian says bringing Tommy into one of his signature hugs raping his wings around him aswell. “I want you to know that we don’t judge you and the fellow hermits will try our best to help you on your journey. I promise you that everybody is proud of you. I’m proud of you.” Grian says tears daring to spill, he doesn’t move holding his hatchling Tommy tightly. Him and Tommy start to cry together. They are alone together doc and stress left a while back. Finally after a while and Tommy getting exhausted from the previous pain of his injury and the tears, yaws in the hug. He mumbles a few words that if grian wasn’t a bird hybrid he might have not heard “thank you dad.” Before falling asleep. Grian sits there tears of happiness staring to overtake those of sadness and he hold his new hatchling close to him. Tommy called him dad!

lol, was board and saw a thing about how cannon Tommy would have been a drug addicted at some point, I can see both the van times and after Wilbur’s death. But I thought how would hermits react to this especially Grian because I love father Grian vibes, and while writing thought why no make this the first time Tommy calls him dad to add a bit off fluff at the end. So lol if y’all want to do something like this then you’re good to go.

Edit- re reading this I feel like it turned kinda into a very slightly darker like possessive parent grian towards the end and I don’t know why

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