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Don't think I'll be able to do day 7 of GriBeans week unfortunately, but it's been such a blast!
6 works & 15k words later, it's been great to spend a bit of time indulging in one of my favourite ships and seeing such increbible work produced by artists and writers alike.
If you would like to read all of the fics you can follow the link... I know I put it around here somewhere... no... not there
hmmmm
ahhh,
There!
Link to Crow's GriBeans Week 2025 fics!!!!
Thank you to all those who left lovely comments/notes/ and reblogged and just interacted with works. < 3333
thank you so much for all the participation this week! it’s been an incredible event to host & see everyone share their creativity :) i especially loved seeing all the posts everyday it was so incredible and you are all so so talented please pat uselfs on the backs.
special thanks to the beautiful artists who allowed me to use their art for the daily theme announcements ! ygs are the best <3
if you are posting late, we will still be here to reblog and share for a week or two! please don’t feel intimidated to post late (because we are too LOL)
hopefully we will be back !! :3 feel free to inbox us any suggestions you have for next time!! we love ygs <33
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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@gribeansweek day 7, free theme (angst writer attempting fluff) (Ao3)
thank you to the organizers! (also lots of people were very nice to me this week and I am very shy so ty for that too ;;-;;)
---
Grian and Joel are running and laughing, high-pitched giggling, lightheaded. The angry yelling of their latest prank victim is fading into the distance. "We're so dead!" Joel laughs, "I think he's actually going to kill us this time."
"No he won't," Grian giggles. "Ol' Doc's a softie, really. Otherwise, he would have killed me long before now."
"He's going to be finding frogs in his cellar for weeks!" Joel says, giddy with adrenaline.
"Like fun little presents!" Grian agrees.
The forest embraces them, trunks of tall proud oaks and narrow birches rushing past. Grass and bushes and creeping ferns slap at their shins and crush underfoot, but manage not to trip them. No, they do that to themselves when they leap over a fallen log and find the hill beyond is steeper than expected. They tumble downwards, crashing through the underbrush and landing tangled up together at the bottom of a moss-softened gully.
Joel lays there, still laughing. Grian's on his chest and groaning. The latter pushes himself upwards. The sun, shining brightly overhead, halos him through the forest canopy. He would look ethereal, Joel thinks, if not for all the sticks and burrs in his hair. Joel smiles up at him like he's drunk. "You look stupid."
Grian huffs a protest, spits green out of his mouth. "You look stupider," he smirks.
The air grows thick and syrupy.
Joel reaches up to card some debris out of Grian's hair, gentle and slow, tucking its texture into memory. Grian leans into it. He is staring at Joel with the kind of intensity that feels like he's seeing right down to the marrow, like he's reading Joel's very DNA. It makes his skin buzz. He meets Grian's scrutiny like a challenge, with a smile. A smile, and a palm on Grian's cheek to pull him down out of his head and remind him of the physical.
It isn't certain, and it doesn't matter, which one of them moves first. They kiss like an inevitability. Grian's lips are soft and certain, like they've already done this a hundred times. Maybe they have, and just forgotten. Breaths mingle as they pull apart, bump noses and check for certainty, then let themselves fall back together again. Joel wraps his arms around Grian and Grian melts against him. Something settles. A sighing, long-held breath exhales and sinks into soft green and gold.
@gribeansweek Last day is free theme. Today is our last day! This was a really fun event. I enjoyed it <3 Your reblogs with the comments were sweet. Thank you!
Ao3 Link
It's the smell of a new server that fills Grian's lungs. He takes a deep breath, exhaling with a sigh, They had new players this season. He sat at his dock, his feet dipped in the cold water. He shivered from it.
Who had joined?
Joel…Joel had joined, Grian smiled at the thought. His boyfriend had joined. There are footsteps, the soft sound of grass being pushed away "Grian…?" Someone says next to him. Grian looks up with a soft smile at Joel. He looks a bit scared, fidgeting with his fingers and everything.
"How's hermitcraft?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, tilting his head gently. Ignoring the soft bobbing of his fishing rod.
"It's going well..Bit overwhelming," Joel says with a chuckle. Brushing his hair from his face.
"Do you need a go for it kiss?" Grian asks after a moment, pulling in his fishing rod and standing up. The water drips off his legs, causing a small puddle on the dock.
"Oh please," Joel nods, Grian happily leans in and kisses Joel on the cheek. It's a small gesture but it fills Joel up with bubbly warmth. "Thanks," Joel thanks, "I'm going to go find where I want to put my starter base, see you!" Joel walks away with a wave.
"I'll be at the docks!" Grian calls out to him after he leaves, "You know where to find me if you need another kiss," he giggles at himself before throwing his rod back into the water.
[ repost bc the last one wasn’t showing up in the tags rip ]
Day seven: free theme - dancing [ now playing Bohemian Betyars - Hamu ]
@gribeansweek
Thank you to the lovely @mitakesgf and @maruyaaya for organizing this event, it was a lot of fun 💜
I just love drawing dancing so much, it's so much fun. I wanted something fluffy and shippy for the final day and this song was released yesterday or the day before and l've been listening to it on repeat. It's a Hungarian song, so here's the translation
1 "Your lips swell from hunger.
Will you come with me or wait a little more?"
2 "I don't know when it's enough.
I'll grab you and let the dance start"
3 "Well why wouldn't I fall in love with you now?"
They step through the portal into the new world and Grian freezes. Something is wrong.
He can't see.
He can't see.
He wasn't lying when he told the others he didn't have eyes, but it happened a lifetime ago and he's been using his..."powers", his "magic", to make up for it for so long that it's as natural as breathing. None of the Hermits (save Pearl and Mumbo, who Know) would have had any reason to think he wasn't joking. In all the years he's known most of them he's never had so much as a stumble to give himself away. Until now. Something is different about this world and he can't see.
"Grian?" That's Joel's voice. "What you doing?" Grian reaches for his powers, his composure, but it's like trying to catch smoke. What is happening?? He hears footsteps and Joel's voice, closer. "You alright there, lad?"
He has to answer, small and shaking, "No."
There's a hand on his arm. "What's wrong?"
Oh no, the shaking's getting worse. "I can't see."
"What d'you mean you can't see?"
"What do you think I mean, Joel?" he cries. And there goes his composure.
"Alright, alright," Joel tries, clumsily, to soothe him. His hand leaves Grian's arm as he turns to call for the others, and Grian flails and grabs hold of him before he can get too far, snatching a fistful of fabric. Joel is here and an anchor, and Grian isn't quite so proud that he won't admit to needing one.
To his credit, Joel slots himself into the role he's gained by mere proximity without complaint. He lets Grian hold onto him through the initial shock and awkwardness of describing the problem to the rest of the group. After gently guiding Grian's grip around his arm instead of his tunic, he walks them to a place to sit while Xisuma and Doc and Cub and so many people ask Grian questions that he had really hoped he'd never have to answer. And when he bites his tongue on some of the details, Joel speaks up, deflects the scrutiny. "Who cares about all of that, how do we fix this?" They've always been on the same wavelength about some things.
He acts as Grian's eyes, describing the landscape around them and the actions of the people milling around. There's a river, and a forest, and a range of mountains to the north. Most of the Hermits have scattered, off to find their base spots and get their resource chains started, but a clutch of them are still nearby and working on a little building. A lab slash hospital slash welcome center, Impulse says when he stops by to check on them. Xisuma is not far away, stood stock-still in a trance with his helmet blacked out, poking at the world's code. Someone builds a wall of wood around him. A carousel of people pass by on their travels, offering their sympathies and gifts of food and other things. Joel stays.
Joel doesn't have to stay. He's got his own plans to be getting to, and it's clear he isn't the most comfortable at playing the babysitter, but he stays. Grian does not like being babysat, and he complains. He pulls his knees up to his chest and mashes his face into them. He is used to being able to See whatever, whenever, wherever he wished. He's used to seeing too much and having to manage the overstimulation. Now it's the opposite. Now, the blank dark nothingness is making him feel ill. And he hurts. He'd forgotten how the empty sockets hurt and ached without the cushioning of his strangely-gained abilities. Joel asks, once, if Grian would rather someone else take over. Mumbo, or Pearl, or Gem, or Scar, or...
"I..." Grian hesitates. "I don't know." The last thing in the Universe he wants to be is reliant on anyone, but he's not being given the luxury of a choice, and he doesn't know how to ask that of someone, and he doesn't know if he can.
Joel, who wasn't asked, but is here anyway, sighs. "Alright," he says. And stays.
Grian knows he's being selfish. He knows that he should let Joel get on with his own business. But then someone makes a joke about them holding hands, a clumsy attempt to lighten the mood, and without a single word Joel shifts where Grian's holding him and he laces their fingers together. He holds on and he stays.
Joel's hands are rough, calloused and scarred. Grian does not know why he's noticing these things. He does not know why his world narrows to the heartbeat he can feel in the press of Joel's palm.
Scar comes by and sits with them a while. He chatters nonsense and bad jokes until he finds a story corny enough to get Joel to yell at him, to rant right back, and gets Grian shaking with laughter. Pearl and Gem arrive with a joke about a shift change. They shoo Scar away, and Joel along with him, insisting they get some work done. Then they sandwich Grian between them, pressed on both sides so he doesn't feel like he's falling. They talk about what they've found and done in the world so far, what their plans are. They do their best to try and help him feel less left out of things. Pearl hugs him for a long time (she Knows, she remembers) and he tries to keep from crying because crying hurts. Mumbo stops by, and he worries and he fusses and he apologizes half a dozen times before he can get out what he's apologizing for; he's spent his day making something. Glass eyes. And he's apologizing because they aren't functional. Gem gently teases him for his perfectionism, and they all shepherd Grian over to the half-built hospital to get them installed. They're just cosmetic, like Mumbo said, but they ease the pain in Grian's skull, and Gem says he's a lot less scary to look at afterwards.
Joel comes back. He presses the hilt of a sword and a stick of dynamite into Grian's hands, saying he thought they'd make Grian feel better. And everyone starts yelling at Joel, "Why would you give him explosives!?", but he's right. They do make Grian feel better. He sticks the dynamite into a pocket and, fumblingly, straps the sword onto his belt, and he feels a little less untethered. He reaches for Joel again, who takes his hand without a word, and he feels almost settled. They should probably talk about that, about this, about what's next. Xisuma walks in, then, and says something about Wardings, and Grian can feel can feel another uncomfortable line of questions coming. Joel squeezes his hand.
Grian decides to be grateful. He decides the why of it is a problem for a different day, and squeezes back.
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@gribeansweek Prompt 6: Rivals to Lovers / Hurt/Comfort
Ao3 Link
Joel would beat Grian in this game, yes he would. He was sure of it. The two sit on the couch playing a game when Grian pauses looking over to Joel with a weird expression on his face that confused him..
"Grian..?" Joel says after a moment, giving him a confused look.
"Oh-yeah just-just staring at your dreamy eyes…" Grian looks as though his staring into nothingness. A dazed look on his face,
"Uh-Grian?" Joel tries to get Grian's attention.
"You know I always wanted to kiss a cute guy," Grian leans into Joel who blushes, his ears turning a bright pink. "Can I?" Joel's heart is racing, he nods quickly.
"You can," he confirms, Grian leans in, dropping the controller in his hand for a kiss. Grian is soft as he kisses Joel. Letting go after a moment.
"Now about me winning," Grian says with a smirk which make Joel roll his eyes and shake his head.
"Hmh you winning against me?" Grian nods, picking up his controller.
I didn’t have any creative ideas for today’s prompt,, or well yesterday’s, but this time I’m only like 15 minutes late lmao. So take some unwilling watcher angst and comfort. It must be overstimulating to see everything all the time and you didn’t even ask to be able to do that, you were forced into that power and position
But I do have something a little bit bigger and a whole lot fluffier planned for day seven, the free theme day ! It’s a bit after midnight rn and I’m not tired yet, so I’ll try to at least sketch and maybe line that tonight
Today's fic was inspired by @bidoofenergy's fic the worst part of being a goalie and @crownpastelyellow
If you would like to read the other gribean football fic I have wrote you can find it ... oh, here
Joel wishes he would go back to wherever he transferred from. Joel wasn’t paying attention to him, to the announcement, to his introduction, to anything about Schrodinger's blonde until their first practice where he couldn’t block a single shot.
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@gribeansweek day 5 (ngl, I did not know what to do for this one, so uh...here.)
---
It's the quick, stolen brushes of contact as they pass each-other in the blank white halls. Backs of hands touching and pinky fingers hooked together under the cover of a sweater sleeve. It's the looks exchanged across a room while the Eyes are busy droning. It's the fighting for the cameras, for the stress relief, for the hell of it. It's Joel in his green hoodie, enduring a berating from a white-coat Behavioral Specialist, fidgeting with a tiny snail carved out of soap. It's that same hoodie somehow finding its way underneath Grian's pillow.
It's sitting back-to-back after another round of testing and breathing, just breathing. It's the disavowing, the petty arguments, the avoiding each-other for three days straight until Grian has a nightmare and reaches out, instinctively. It's the fear, the knowledge that if the Panopticon finds out they will be torn apart. Separated and sent to different sectors, or forced together and forced to cram themselves inside expectations until they can no longer recognize each-other or themselves. It's the inability to stay the fuck away from each-other regardless of the consequences. It's painting themselves in red and green and pretending it's christmas in august.
It's finding the one place where the cameras don't see and the one time the white-coats aren't watching and crashing together like they're coming up for air. It's messy kisses, whispered wishes, holding tight as they can without leaving marks of their meeting. It's counting the seconds, the heartbeats, how long until they have to hold their breath again. It's breaking apart and blanking their faces and leaving in different directions. It's not-looking at each-other.
It's lying to everyone, and sitting at different tables, and Grian pretending not to notice when Joel stops eating again. It's Joel making fun of of the sores on Grian's hands, cruelty as a cover for the worry he can't quite keep hidden. It's complaining about the food and the furniture and talking about plans to dig a tunnel under the wall, in the offhand way the know the Eyes will find funny and nonthreatening. Like dogs performing for a treat.
It's hands, held vice-tight, and running running running don't stop running, alarms over the speakers and pounding chasing footsteps, keep running. Lights, locked doors, and broken windows. Blood trails and adrenaline. Fresh, cold air and darkness. Still running. Don't you dare let go of me. I'm never letting go of you again.
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