#that’s a third of my life right there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scribbling-dragon · 1 year

Note

for the fic requests: i’ve personally been kind of craving a grian & jimmy siblings fic that isn’t all like the “wholesome” or overprotectiveness that i see a lot in the tag, sibling relationships can be pretty nasty but still have that underlying affection or familarity to each other because of shared life experiences etc,, i think a dynamic like that (especially in any of the life series with the added stress of being in a death game, you can choose whatever setting tho because i think those two are just Inherently Fucked Up) would be cool to read about if you’re up for it

are you really siblings if you don't try and kill each other on the regular?

summary:

“Nah, most he’d do is scam you out everything valuable you own.”

“And leave me for dead.” He finishes.

“Well, I never said anything about you not dying to something stupid, just that Scar wouldn't kill you.”

“Wow,” he mutters, “what care and concern from my dearest older brother, truly, I have never felt more loved in my life.”

(ao3 link)

(2,080 words)

(reblogs are also appreciated <3)

The sand shifts beneath his feet as he steps onto it. The grains immediately worm their way into his shoes, through some strange impossibility that should mean that sand shouldn’t currently be in his shoes. There’s no way for sand to be in his shoes, yet he can find the grains itching at his feet almost immediately- within seconds of stepping foot onto the first patch of sand.

He grumbles under his breath, stepping further and further into the desert, squinting his eyes against the offensive sun that does its best to blind him the moment he looks up. The sand continues to sink around his feet, grains worming their way into his shoes and sticking to his feet.

It’s Grian’s stupid fault for choosing to live in such a hostile environment- seriously, there were so many better places for him to pick to live in and yet he chooses a desert? The man’s supposed to be smart, or something, and yet he chooses the biome that is potentially the most hostile to beings living in it (other than, maybe, an ocean. Choosing to live in the middle of the ocean is also a pretty stupid idea, but he’s also pretty sure Grian’s done that too). Maybe the man isn't so deserving of the clever title everyone gives him; maybe he’s just an idiot.

He glances up again, taking his chances with being blinded by the sun to see how much further he has to go. Monopoly Mountain still looms on the horizon, a seemingly insurmountable distance away. It feels as though he’s hardly made any progress with his journey across the desert, and the constantly shifting sand beneath his feet does nothing but add to the nightmarish trek.

He begins to curse Grian out beneath his breath.

“Now that’s just plain hurtful.” He startles, twisting to face the new arrival.

Grian’s perching on a nearby cactus, hand lightly resting on the top of it for balance. His talons curl around one of the arms of the cacti. It doesn't look at all comfortable, and Jimmy hopes he’s picking cacti spines out of his feet for the next week.

“You chose to live in a stupid place.” He complains. “Seriously? What’s wrong with a- a nice forest? Somewhere that’s not this hot or difficult to walk through!” He kicks at some of the sand, which only succeeds in shifting it slightly and adding to the slowly growing desert in the base of his boots.

“It’s for exactly that reason we chose to live here, Tim.” Grian cocks his head to the side. “Don't exactly want everyone wandering on past our base, especially not with so many red lives running around.”

“Hardly anyone’s going to be running past your base with Scar there.” He scoffs. He’s almost tempted to kick at the sand again, but that’d do nothing but make him more annoyed at the existence of a desert. He pledges to himself, then, that he shall never set foot in another desert unless it is with the sole purpose of eradicating every grain of sand from within it. Can't be a desert without any sand, can it?

“Or me.” Grian grins. “More than a few people are wary about me after that enchanting table trap.”

“You give yourself far too much credit.” He laughs. “I was the one that set that trap off- it didn't even work. Everyone overestimates how far you plan ahead.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he responds. This desert really is far too hot, he can feel the grains of sand beginning to collect between his feathers. Something which is going to be a pain to get out once he’s returned home and is safely away from this hellspawn of a biome. “You don't plan ahead at all.”

“Don't I?” Grian tries to sound surprised, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. It’s done with the sole intent of irritating him. And it works. Irritatingly. Grian just knows how to get under his skin, managing the feat with nothing more than a few expressions and carefully spoken words.

“No,” he can feel his feathers begin to fluff up a little, “you don't. Have you even thought about how this is going to end? About how all of this is going to end? Because I know you haven't, you never think that far ahead, never beyond the next trap or prank you're planning on pulling, hm? What happens when your contract with Scar runs out? What happens if he’s the one to kill you? What happens if you're the one to kill him?”

“It won't come to that.” Grian frowns at him, wings twitching. The hints at his annoyance are subtle. Everything about him is subtle, subtle up until the point where it is not, and you're left wondering where all of the sudden annoyance came from. “It won't.”

“But it might.” He shrugs. “What happens if you and Scar beat each other to death, hm?”

“The same thing that will happen if you and Scott beat each other to death, Tim,” Grian looks at him. “You die, and you move on. Game over, you go home.”

“And everyone else forgets this even happened in the first place.” He says, shoulders sagging. “Everyone goes home, none the wiser. As though they never disappeared in the first place, because it’s so easy for you to do that.”

“You make it sound like I enjoy that.”

Jimmy sighs. “I know you don't. But you don't think about these things. How are you meant to stop yourself from getting hurt if you don't think about it?”

“Isn't that what you're here for?” Grian asks. He hops down from the cacti, stretching his wings out as he lands. The wingspan is far larger than he normally has, tawny brown feathers so different from the usual bright reds and yellows of his wings.

His own are the same as they've always been. Unchanging. The bright yellow remains unaffected by whatever magic forces Grian to adapt- he’s not sure what he’d prefer; the unchanging warning of his own wings, or being forced to adapt with each different server, changing as he moves between them.

“And here I thought you actually appreciated my company.”

“Of course not,” Grian scoffs. “Now, what was it you needed? Unless you just felt like complaining at me.”

“Uh,” why was he in the desert in the first place? He hadn't done anything remarkable that day, certainly nothing that he would have decided to trudge out here to inform their allies of- “Oh! Scott wants more sand, says our supplies are running low.”

“And he sent you to do it for him?”

“He’s doing enchants,” he says. “You know I can't do those very well.”

“Oh I am aware.” Grian laughs. “Your attempts are still as messy as when you were ten, I take it?”

He grumbles in response, which only prompts Grian to laugh more even though it isn't really that funny.

“Sand?” He prompts, when he realises Grian’s just going to keep laughing at him. At this rate, he’s going to pass out from a lack of oxygen, or the heat getting to him, before Jimmy can even secure the goods and been on his merry way back to his distinctly not sand-filled home.

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon,” Grian beckons him to follow, and he does, falling into step behind him. Grian moves with ease across the landscape, somehow managing not to sink into the sand as deeply as he does. Maybe it’s something to do with not wearing boots, though he’s certainly not about to risk burning his feet to test it- he’d rather Grian doesn't laugh at him anymore. “I don't see why you couldn't just dig up some of the edges, why come all this way to find me?”

“I'm not about to die because Scar found me digging up part of the desert.”

“He wouldn't kill you for it,” Grian sighs.

“Uh, yes he would. Have you met the man?”

“Nah, most he’d do is scam you out everything valuable you own.”

“And leave me for dead.” He finishes.

“Well, I never said anything about you not dying to something stupid, just that Scar wouldn't kill you.”

“Wow,” he mutters, “what care and concern from my dearest older brother, truly, I have never felt more loved in my life.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Grian nudges him far harder than necessary, pushing him into a small pile of sand that flies up as he kicks it, getting in his eyes and his mouth. He spits the sand out, feeling the grains catch in his teeth as he grimaces.

He stumbles after Grian, just to shove him back, watching him stumble slightly, teetering a little to the side. Grian shoves him back, as though Jimmy’s own shove wasn't revenge already.

He jabs an elbow into Grian’s ribs in return, digging into the spot he knows is especially sensitive after Grian cracked three ribs while attempting to fly for the first time. Grian shouts, loud and wordless, which is all the warning he gets before Grian leaps at him, shoving him down into the sand.

“Grian!” He cries. He can feel sand nestling amongst his hair, digging into his feathers. “Hey, hey!” He shoves at Grian, attempting to dislodge the avian. It doesn't work, and they simply end up rolling around.

Grian kicks at him, talons scratching down his trousers, no doubt ripping his jeans- something he’s going to have to explain to Scott later, no doubt. He kicks right back, shoving at Grian’s face as he goes to bite him, shoving him away until he’s at a safe enough distance that he won't - literally - go for the jugular.

Grian licks his hand.

He pulls it back with a shout of disgust, kicking at Grian hard enough to dislodge him, scrambling to his feet before Grian can lunge at him.

“What was that for!” He yells, hopping back a step when Grian still looks tempted to lunge for him.

“You jabbed me!” Grian yells back, gesturing wildly with his arms. His wings flap too, stirring up the sand and stinging at his eyes.

“And you tried to bite me!” He doesn't shriek- he doesn't. Grian is a known liar, so even if he does go around snitching on him, not that he shrieked in the first place, no one’s going to believe him. “How many times have I told you not to go for the throat!”

“How many times have I told you not to elbow me!” Grian shrieks back at him. “I wouldn't have to bite you if you didn't elbow me!”

“You shoved me first.” He crosses his arms. His wings twitch behind him, feathers ruffling as he tries to dislodge as much of the sand as he can.

“And? It’s my desert.”

“It’s not your desert.”

“Uh, yeah it is?” Grian tips his head to the side. “I live in it. It’s my desert.”

“Whatever,” he throws his hands up, turning around. “I give up! Keep your stupid sand!”

“What are you gonna tell Scott?” Grian yells after him. He ignores him, stalking across the sand, gritting his teeth every time it slips beneath his feet.

When he does arrive back at their base, Scott is still enchanting, nose deep in one of the books and glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose as he leans forward to read it, quill and ink set aside for the moment.

He looks up as Jimmy enters, eyes widening in surprise at the state of him.

“What happened to you? You look like you had a fight with a bucket of sand and lost.”

“Grian.”

“Ah,” Scott nods his head along sagely. “That certainly explains why you've come back dripping sand, yet seemingly lacking in it.”

“It just wasn't working out,” he waves Scott off. “I'm going for a lie down.”

“Alright,” he nods, watching his husband go. One of his trouser legs was torn, as though it had been ripped to shreds by a wild animal, or a particularly vicious bush. He has a feeling it was neither of those, though. He supposes he must give Grian credit where credit’s due, though he’s not sure what the man gets out of beating his brother up.

It simply makes him all the more glad to be a single child; he can't imagine the hassle of having a brother that seems hellbent on killing you at every turn.

#juno.writes #3rd life smp #third life smp #trafficblr #jimmy solidarity #grian #giving everyone the REAL sibling relationship these guys have #loosely based on an interaction i have had with my own sister (though we almost broke the tv stand in that fight)#solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #life series #traffic smp #traffic series #scott smajor #(right at the end)#flower husbands

160 notes · View notes