Are YOU a fan of Grian? Do YOU own a pencil, pen, stylus, finger, clay, paper, wire, and/or markers? Do YOU have any desire to create and be a part of something cool, regardless of your skill level?Ā
Well, step right up! I'm currently working on a Choose Your Own Adventure fic inspired by Grian's playthrough of the Stanley Parable, as well as a few other pieces of media (namely In Space with Markiplier and Deltarune), and I need artists!
The task is simple: Create a Grian.
The only requirement for his appearance is that he is recognizable as a Grian, and that he has a red sweater (it's important to the plot)! Other than that, go wild! All forms of media are accepted, from traditional 2D to 3D modeling to clay and paper craft, everything and everyone is welcome! There is no application, no rejections, no waiting time! Just DM me here on Tumblr or over on Discord (@gladumf) to sign up and turn in a Grian before August 18th* to be a part of this super amazing and awesome project.
Want to be even more involved and create clues and Easter eggs for the project? Shoot me a DM! I want this project to be a collaborative one, with as many creators as I can get my hands on, and the more hidden details the story has, the better!Ā
Please reblog this post to get it to as many people as possible! I'll see you all real soon :D
*The August 18th deadline is simply because ao3 will delete my draft of the fic if I do not post it on this day. If you can't get your Grian done by the 18th, send me a DM and we can figure something out! I'm perfectly happy adding things in after the fic is posted. Do not let this deadline scare you away from this project!
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In Pearlās dreams, sometimes she says this to Gem:
āSometimes I think youād like me better if I actually were an attack dog.ā
The actual answer she gets back differently depending on the dream, and the day, and what kind of things that Pearl had last done. Sometimes Gem tells her:
āAww, Pearlie, donāt be like that. Youāre more useful than a dog would ever be.ā
Sometimes Gem tells her:
āYou can be a dog now, if youād like.ā
Sometimes Gem tells her:
āYouāre more important than that, really.ā
Sometimes Gem tells her:
āYou wouldnāt be nearly as scary if you were! Isnāt what makes you scary that youāre human, but not?ā
Sometimes Gem tells her:
āI do too.ā
None of these are what Pearl wants to hear, of course. Even in Pearlās subconscious, Gem is never going to give her an answer that works. Gem is never going to give her an answer thatās real. Pearl isnāt that prone to self-delusion. Gem is never going to, in these dream conversations, hold her and tell her āthatās not trueā and mean it. Thatās why sheās never said it.
Well, that, and that Pearl isnāt sure thatās what she wants either. Sheās not sure thatās an answer that would get at the hunger. At the thing she needs. That would get at something thatās burned her, and burned her, and burned her, and burnedā
Well, that and sheās dead now. So. You know.
Even if she wanted an answer, she isnāt getting one.
Gem's voice breaks him out of his stupor. She's standing in the doorway, and looks a mess; her hair is wild and untamed. There are bags beneath her eyes.
He can't bring himself to smile. āHey.ā
Gem chokes up. Tears shine in her eyes, and spill over the next time she blinks. She takes one step forward, then another, then collapses to her knees, clinging to Grian's tunic.
Grian's vision blurs. He can't see the bed he's sitting on, or any defined form. Just orange hair, dancing like fire, and blank space where she should be.
There's nothing he can do. She's gone. Dead. And for what?
it's not exactly the same every time. it's altered by what they went through, and why theyāre asking, and how it all ended. but it's always close enough that it may as well be the same.Ā
100% inspired by this incredible post by @thirdtimed! it had me by a chokehold i had to do something about it
it's not exactly the same every time. it's altered by what they went through, and why theyāre asking, and how it all ended. but it's always close enough that it may as well be the same.Ā
the first time, it was unprecedented.Ā
blood on his hands, tears in his eyes, we expected it to be overāa failed experiment, one that only he would ever remember to save the others the pain. too much grief wracked his body for him to even choke out the words for a long while, but we waited. it isn't an unusual thing for us to do, to wait.
smearing sand on his sunburned face, he wiped away his tears and said,
"give me another chance."
the second time, we were curious.
shaken and silent, he stared into our face for a long while, as if trying to decipher what in void we were. the crown of crystals were still and a kind of grey that isnāt truly grey, but every colour at once, and his breathing was shallow. the bloodlust drained from his eyes, leaving them as grey as the crown.
we asked, because he would not have thought to answer otherwise. he flinched, and hesitated.Ā
"i.. can i see them again?"
the third time, it was almost expected.
still smoking from the explosion, she sunk to her knees, sobbing and clutching herself as if she feared literally falling apart. it took a long while for her screams of grief subsided, and longer still for the weeping to fade into sniffing and hiccups. she hadn't looked at us once, as if she didn't know we were there, but we did not wish to interruptāshe was entitled to her unraveling in private.
wiping her eyes, she didnāt bother to compose herself much more. she lifted her face, littered with gashes and scars, and with agony in her voice-
"i want myĀ friends."
the fourth time.. well, it was a little surprising.
a victor had not yet arrived so high on adrenaline and confidence, and the blood that stained even his mouth seemed to be a trophy. the sword had not left his hand, and still dripped with what remained of the last two, the drops vanishing into the abyss below. he was grinning, and this was the most surprising part.
not needing any persuasion or suggestion, he looked us right in the eyeāas none had done before, crowing,
"come on, give us another go!"
the fifth time, it wasn't the request that was new.
alone in a field of sunflowers is where we eventually found him, after waiting fruitlessly for his arrival. he startled a little as he realised we were there, but soon calmed at the understanding of what we meant for him. after all, it had been almost a year since he became strandedāand stranded was the word for it. the shawl was still the red and purple of the flowers he had once given to his partner, and we suppose one could say they started this whole chain of events.
setting aside his gardening tools, he smiled almost sadly. perhaps he would miss what had become his prison, despite everything it signified. he sighed,
"i think iād like a better try at companionship."
the sixth time.. it almost didnāt count.
surprised to have even been considered for a crown, they laughed in delight when the paper version settled on her head, clearly pleased with our creative flair. we were pleased as wellāit isnāt often creative flair ends up being a positive part of our abilities.Ā Ā they looked around, as if deciding whether or not the place was real, and seemingly settled on an answer. we didnāt ask what the answer was.Ā
adjusting the paper crown, she laughed, clearly finding the whole situation amusing. when we asked, they seemed to be even more surprised.
"iĀ get to choose? well- let's do it again!"
the seventh time, it became amusing. they did know they could choose something else, did they not?
whooping and throwing his arms around in celebration, came the second victor to be genuinely pleased by his victory and subsequent death. he spent a considerable amount of time pretending he was at an awards show, thanking his family, his wife, his best friend and so on. it was refreshing, after all that misery we witnessed at the beginning of the games, to see the tides changing. especially with him; rage used to be his fuel. now it seemed to be love.
grinning up at us, he waited for something. perhaps one of the others had mentioned it, but he did not seem surprised when we asked.
"what do i want? of course i wantĀ more!"
the eighth time, we donāt have to even introduce ourselves.
considerably more pleased than he had been the first time, he seems to think that taking his own life was the ultimate show of power against us. of course, we have changed our ways since his game, but he is not to know that. like his predecessor, he too seems amused by the paper crown.Ā
cracking his knuckles, and stretching his neck, we already know what heās going to say, but we let him ask it.
In the wake of the lavacast, after the fire had eaten away at the walls and spread across every beam, itās a miracle the base is still standing, extinguished as it is. The parts of the balcony that hadnāt tumbled off the cliff lay in a charred heap in the ruined garden, and thereās hardly a window left that hasnāt cracked or shattered entirely.
The lighthouse is in ruins. Its brightest keeper is dead. Gem wonders if itās worth repairing it at all.
She sits, slumps, sags onto the crumbling stairs. The sun has just started to set. The weight of the dayās events press heavy upon Gemās shoulders, heavier than the lives she herself has lost. She tries not to think about it.
A pair of footsteps crunches carefully around the exposed Square Hole. Gem knows exactly who it isnāt, but she doesnāt manage to tamper down her knee-jerk expectation fast enough.
Grian braces his head against his palm and sighs. Gem doesnāt quite catch her disappointment in time, either.
A moment or an eternity couldāve passed by the time Grian speaks up; such irrelevance is lost on Gem. āI keep waiting for her to walk up that staircase any second now, and make fun of us for looking like fools sulking here,ā he says, staring out over the horizon. His hair is messy and his sweater is torn. Gemās sure she looks no better.
Pearl wouldnāt tease them. Sheād fit into the space between Gem and Grian and point out the tiny figures scurrying around down below until their conversation would turn to how theyād get their revenge on that triple kill. Her shoulder would be warm, pressed against Gemās, and her laughter would reverberate along the contact.
āMe, too,ā Gem says. What else is there?
The sunsetās soft oranges and greys give way to a star-speckled night. The server shines beneath the moonās silver glow. Pearl does not come home.
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This was made for the @mcytblraufest event, with art from the amazing @wyvern-of-whimsy
Muse of Mine
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/TangoTek, Jimmy | Solidarity & Lizzie | LDShadowLady
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe: Coffee Shops & Cafes, Alternate Universe: College/University, Alternate Universe: Artists, Artist Jimmy Solidarity, Average Guy TangoTek, Getting together, fluff, flirting, fist kiss, meet-cute, Muse TangoTek
Summary:
Across the cafe sits a very, very pretty man. Jimmy keeps forgetting to blink. He's just pretty. Nice to look at, easy on the eyes. Intriguing. Jimmy wants to know more about him.
He's obviously not the first stranger Jimmy has drawn, but, this time, his throat feels tight. An explosion of little curling clouds envelops his stomach and the air seems to buzz between his fingers, surging him to sketch faster, to catch this exact moment before it's gone.
READ ON AO3
YOU BET YOUR BOTTOM THERE ARE FLOORPLANS!!!! Thank you to my beloved @turkeyrams for listening to my rambling and making this beautiful studio <3
Jimmy Solidarity is only 22 years old and already washed up. 10 years ago, he tried to become the Champion of Sinnoh and lost, and his best friend, Grian, did it instead. Now Grian wants him (and Joel) to join the Elite Four, become elite trainers once again, and spend their days battling pokemon together, just like they used to all those years ago. It makes perfect senseāso why is Jimmy so hesitant? Why is he more worried about a strange little Oddish that was dumped on him... and the return of a childhood crush, the Professor's old assistant?
