fifty ways to say goodbye (hc/last life fics)
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It’s his own fault. His fault they had too much to drink, his fault their friends all had to deal with the fallout of the second messiest divorce to ever take place in their friend group, his fault that he and Scar got married the first time anyway… the list of reasons why it’s his fault is long. He deserves the raw throat from the scream he let out this morning when Cleo sent him the photos and the laughter that’s been trailing him all day.
Leave it to Grian to drunkenly remarry his ex-husband on a group vacation. Leave it to Grian to be the only one who remembers the next morning.
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> fix up my spare room for my friend while he's in town on a job
> second night with him there i hear someone rummaging around in the kitchen
> think my friend needs something
> get up
> go to the kitchen
> turn on the light
> its my ex husband
> he's eating my sandwich
> the one i made for lunch tomorrow
> he didn't even make his own sandwichSeries
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Scar closes his eyes. It’s not him. He has to keep reminding himself of that— Third Life is long past. Grian’s not with him now out of choice— not that he was in Third Life, at first, but he did choose to stay with Scar when he went yellow, which was choice enough. Grian is here because he wants to stay alive as long as possible, because he wants to win the game, and Scar getting hurt directly impedes that goal. He’s here for himself, and no other reason.
The alliance— the affair with BigB just proves that.
(or, ren wants to talk to grian, and he knows exactly what button to press to get him to come running.)
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first and fierce affirming sight (of sunlight) by Anonymous
Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP, 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series
16 Jul 2022
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“Are you okay, Grian?”
He knows the answer to this question, actually— no, he’s not. Grian hasn’t been okay since they returned from the Last Life server, and has gotten even worse since they noticed the moon was starting to get bigger.
The trouble is, Scar is pretty sure he’s not supposed to remember the things that happened on the Life servers.
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This false half-life, body still rent asunder by the Rift and starstuff and the Spring alike, it should never have been. When he looks at his hands, the scars that wrap around his forearms no longer glow cruelly. Lilacs and poppies bloom there instead, and his breath catches in his throat, remembering—
remembering what?
(after it all, two dead gods find their way back to each other.)
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