#so anyway its a cool fanart yep nod | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redwinterroses · 3 years

Note

angsty third life prompt: grian missing his wings. bonus for impulse or tango interaction.

It actually turned out less angsty than I intended... Might revisit this one later. I was also inspired by this one piece of fanart I saw but can't find now, where Grian doesn't just have elytra he has actual parrot wings, but they’d been ripped off. It was beautiful and I am v sad that it has vanished. lol. Anyway, enjoy. ;P

_______

He really doesn’t like being stuck on the ground.

Grian shades his eyes with one hand, gripping his new iron sword in the other, and surveys the desert beneath Monopoly Mountain. The sun is just rising, but the heat rising off the golden sands is already enough to sting his skin and a bead of sweat rolls down his neck. Heat waves shimmer deceptively, nearly making him miss the real form moving across the dunes.

He glances over his shoulder at Scar, but the red-lifer is currently distracted doing… something with the storage chests. There’s no way it’s organizing, but probably best not to ask; instead he takes the chance to slip away.

Sliding down the side of a massive dune, he skids to a stop just as Impulse reaches the foot of the mountain.

“Halt, who goes there?” Grian says, brushing sand off his jeans and holding up one hand to stop Impulse. “Friend or foe!”

“Friend, friend – always a friend.” Impulse grins, and raises both empty hands. “Just came to chat with Scar.”

Grian rolls his eyes. “You’ll leave with less gear than you came,” he warns. “Scar’s been scamming people out of their stuff all day.”

With a gesture, Impulse dismisses his concern. “I heard, I heard… which is why I brought extra.” He pulls a pair of enchanted iron shoes out of his rucksack and waves them temptingly.

That gets a chuckle out of Grian. “Clever.”

Down at the level of the desert the heat is worse than before, and he instinctively twitches his shoulders to fan his wings – but, of course, there’s nothing there. The rough edges of the stumps twitch restlessly under his shirt, and the dull pain he keeps trying to ignore spikes a little.

Impulse, narrowing his eyes, rearranges the strap of his rucksack and jerks his head toward the distant treeline. “You want to… take a walk?”

“You just got here,” Grian says, but he glances up the cliff toward where he left Scar. He could slip away, just for a little bit… “But sure – this place is blazing hot. I almost can’t think in this heat.”

“You’re telling me. Come on, there’s a little pond just over that first hill; we can cool off there.” Impulse turns and starts trudging back towards the distant shadows of the trees..

Grian follows him, his feet sinking into the soft, shifting sand. He hates how it drags him down, hates the way it gets into his shoes and between his toes, as if it’s trying to remind him with every step that he can’t escape it.

“You, ah… you okay there, G?” Impulse’s longer legs have taken him further ahead, but he stops and waits for Grian to catch up. “Looking a little… tired.”

“Just – hating gravity is all.” Grian forces a little laugh and doesn’t stop when he reaches Impulse, continuing on. Ahead of them, the shady forest promises cool relief. “Stupid, I know.”

“Ah.” Deliberately slowing to keep Grian’s pace, Impulse nods. “Yeah, I miss elytra. It’ll be great to get back to Hermitcraft and be able to fly again – I bet it wouldn’t even take two rockets to cross this entire world.”

Grian doesn’t answer, but his wing-stubs flutter again in frustration. He feels so heavy. So earth-bound in this place – this tiny world that ripped his wings from him and dropped him into a killing game he only had a slim chance of surviving.

“Oh… right.” Impulse sounds like he’s answering a question no one asked. “Gosh, Grian, I’m sorry – that was pretty insensitive. But you’ll get your wings back too.”

I hope.

Neither of them say it, but they both think it – and know the other one is thinking the same.

As they finally reach the cover of the trees, and step into its cooling shade, Grian pulls off his shoes and shakes the sand out of them. “Stupid sand,” he growls. “Stuff gets everywhere.”

“You don’t have boots yet?” Impulse raises an eyebrow. “They keep the sand out—”

“No, Impulse,” Grian doesn’t even bother keeping the irritation out of his voice. “I don’t have boots yet. Or armor, or a decent kit, or anything but bread to eat, or even a partner who’s not probably certifiably insane.” He tucks the shoes under his arm, electing to go barefoot on the soft grass, and snaps: “Where’s this pond?”

Impulse doesn’t react to his harsh tone, and the sympathy in his face makes Grian feel like he should apologize. But before he can, Impulse leads him deeper under the oaks to a small, sandy-shored pond. “There,” he says, pointing. “And good idea – think I’ll stick my feet in too.”

They sit down in the shade of a massive oak tree, and Impulse pulls off his own boots, dropping them with a clank into the grass. Stretching, he leans back and lets his now-bare feet fall into the water. “Ahhhh,” he says. “Yep. That’s exactly what I needed.”

Dipping his own toes into the clear water, Grian weaves his fingers into the grass, and gives a sigh.

“Sorry, Impulse,” he says, his voice softer against the distant sounds of birdsong and the wind rustling the leaves overhead. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just… hard to get used to, you know? Being… grounded.”

Impulse reaches over and claps him on the shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “It’s not forever.”

“No, just until I die. Or everyone else does.” For the first time, the realization that there will only be one survivor of this game strikes him fully, and he looks over at Impulse. “Impulse… by this time next week, one or both of us could be dead. We might kill each other.”

Impulse shakes his head. “Nah…” he says, but then falls silent, any further protest dying on his lips. They both know it’s true. As peaceful as this moment is, shared in the cool quiet of the oak grove with their bare feet making ripples in the water, it can’t last.

“Might be worth it,” Grian adds suddenly, forcing his voice to be light. “Cause some chaos, go out in a blaze of glory – just to… you know. Get back.” Back to Hermitcraft. Back to the sky.

“Aw, come on, G. Don’t talk like that – you’ve got a real shot at winning this thing.”

Grian shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe,” he says.

But I’d rather fly than win.

#third life #3rd life smp #3rd life #third life fanfic #grian #impulse #caffeinated animated redstone innovator

15 notes · View notes