𝕄ℂ𝕐𝕋 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕆𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤

𝔾𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕟 ~ 𝔼𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕖𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

So funny story, I was playing an SCP game with my friends the other week (it was fucking terrifying, we all screamed a lot) and they were asking if I knew the whole SCP deal and what it was and stuff, so I said yeh, I done some ✨research✨ into it. So naturally they asked what was the research for, which was quite funny, because how the fuck was I supposed tell them it was for MCYT self insert fanfic? Anyway, on with this bullshit.

(Also I watched Metal Family recently, very good, I recommend)

MCYT: Grian

SMP or AU: Third Life SMP

Type: Angsty shit

Pronouns: They/Them

Notes: None :)

Premise: It's over, Grian has won 3rd Life. As he contemplates what to do now, the Angel of Death (you), a familiar figure in his life, comes to talk

Trigger warnings: Attempted suicide, violence

Third Person POV

Scar's body hit the ground, crumpling with an uneloquent dissonance. The silence that rang after was deafening. The Angel of Death remained where they had been throughout the fight, perched on the headstone of a grave that marked the final resting place of the recently deceased's llama. Their wings were poised, half unfolded, ready to take flight if needed.

The quiet was slowly dispelled, a faint pant for breath echoing around the valley. It slowly turned to audible gasping before stopping sharply. The man that made these sounds, Grian, turned his head to look at the Angel. He didn't seem surprised at their presence in the slightest. A bloody fist wiped a solitary tear from his cheek. His reddened eyes sweft back over to the edge of the cliff before he dropped to his knees, screaming in agony.

"I don't feel good..." He choked out. Grian ran crimson fingers through his matted hair, seeping scarlet liquid across the sandy locks.

The Angel frowned, shaking out the feathers of black wings, descending from their perch like an overbearing bird. They landed beside the fallen body of Grian's friend. A light touch of his head, and Scar's body softly faded away into twinkling light. The Angel walked carefully to the side of the survivor, an inkling of pity in their heart. They laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Grian stiffened under the contact, muscles taught with learned tenseness.

"You won. I knew it would be you." The Angel's voice was quiet, though within the tones was whispers of voices that could never speak again. The dead.

"It doesn't feel like it." Grian spat bitterly, pulling himself into a standing position and roughly removing the Angel's hand. "Who even are you?" There was accusation and anger in his voice.

"You know who I am." A sudden command issued from their lips, not taking kindly to the blatant ignorance. Grian flinched at the volume, retracting a few steps.

"You're Death, aren't you?" They nodded, content with the recognition.

"I see all enter this world, I've seen all but one depart." The Angel's wings shivered.

"This has happened before?" Grian was suddenly intrigued. Any amount of questions to distract from the aching pain in his heart.

"For centuries this game of life and death has had this world as a stage. And I have not known a winner until you came through the border." They confessed, bowing their head slightly.

"Is that why you've shown up around me before?"

"I've always been with you, Grian the Dreamslayer. Death must choose their champion and be bound to them." The last survivor's head snapped up at the mention of his full title, concern and panic painting his features.

"How do you-" He trailed off, unable to fathom how anyone might know.

"I know all about your past. The sins you've committed, the lives you've taken..." The Angel paused, dragging a single finger underneath his chin and tilting so they could look directly into his eyes. "You were the champion before you even came to this world." Grian twisted his head sharply.

"You knew all this was going to happen." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"I did, yes."

"You should have let Scar win." Grian spoke quietly, trying to mask the sorrow with which he spoke. "He deserved it more than me. He's suffered." The Angel's features softened. They'd grown to like their champion rather greatly, and disliked the melancholy that overwhelmed him now.

"He's congratulating you. I can hear him." It was intended as words of comfort, but not taken so.

"SHUT UP!" Grian snapped, wheeling to face them. His face was murderous. It only last for a split second, before it broke, and he dropped to the floor again, body wracked with sobs. "Why me?"

"I chose you. You're special." They explained.

"It was you, wasn't it? The reason every arrow seemed to miss, or why every potion didn't affect me as much." He realised. There was a new expression on his face now, curiosity.

"Yes. I protected you all this time." The Angel sat beside him, draping a wing round Grian's form. He muttered a thank you for all they'd done. Then he cried. The Angel of Death pulled their champion to their chest, holding him as he wept, trembling slightly. The two remained there for a while until Grian could cry no more, eyes red raw from tears.

The Angel unfurled their wings, letting the sandy haired man crawl forwards slightly, rubbing at his eyes. He missed Scar already. Just like Scott, and Jimmy, and everyone else. Even Ren and Martyn. There was only one thing left to do. Grian stood up, legs shaking as he approached the edge. He knew his goal. He could see his friends again. Death would forgive him, surely? He continued his staggering. The Angel's head snapped in Grian's direction as they heard him stumble slightly.

"What are you doing?" Their voice was icy with concern, standing up and spreading their wings in preparation.

"What is right." The red eyed man had never been so sure of anything else.

"Grian, you can still live. There's a way out of this." He let out a dry chuckle at them.

"No there isn't." The sun was sinking below the horizon, a climatic sign. Even the Angel of Death was pleading for the life of Grian the Dreamslayer. In their mind the voices of his friends screamed and called out too, beseeching this course didn't take flight.

"No!" They refused to take anymore to the afterlife today. Especially not Grian, not their champion. The only person who had ever survived this cursed land. It was decided. He leaned back, a small smile on his face as he fell from the cliff, plummeting to the ground below. The Angel was quick to take flight, swooping and diving to catch up. They weren't going to make it in time.

The rush of air made the Angel's ears sting, urging themself faster and faster. A hand was outstretched, trying to grab onto a piece of clothing, anything. There were mere millimeters between his shirt and their fingertips. But the ground was closing in, sandy rocks zooming closer and closer into view. Their champion could not die. No matter the cost. Even mortality.

And so the roles became reversed, as the Angel of Death gave the Dreamslayer their wings.

Merry Christmas everyone! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, happy holidays! And I'm also intrigued, if you don't celebrate Christmas, is there something else around this time you celebrate instead? Feel free to tell me about any other festivals you have, I'd be happy to find out :)