SULLY'S MUSICAL GRIAN ONESHOTS!! ✨

I Am Just A Fish

WOOO NEW COVER

mwhwhwhha

im cooking up something big, folks. trust.

anyway for now welcome to

can-this-be-seen-as-fluff-ig-not-grian-needs-therapy

aka known as 

'welcome to season 6?'

--

he's gripping something, something, anything- it's terribly soft under his claws; he can feel the tips ripping it to terrible shreds. tearing it apart, he tears everything apart-

needles are pricking at his closed eyes. no, wait, those are tears- huh, he thought he couldn't sob like that anymore.

needles are pricking everywhere, actually, gnawing at his flesh which sharp, teeth that sink into his bones like the darkness, the magic.

he can't feel his limbs, oh, he can't feel anything-

he needs to open his eyes.

but sight means everything is real, the darkness can't consume him like he wants it to, the pain in this skin not his own becomes true.

the fact he really, really failed them becomes true.

something noticeably more ... sharp shoves into his throat. he jolts back, not of his own accord, away from the tip.

he shoves his eyes open.

"don-t kill- me"

he stutters out, eyes flicking over the dark scene. maybe his eyesight is failing him, like his shaky voice.

infront of him is a flax-blonde women holding a sword against his neck. the sword shimmers in the sunlight, even if his tunnel vision won't let him view the sky and it's wonderful sun.

the sword presses deeper into his throat.

"just help me swim away"

bargaining, he can bargain. he's never stopped bargaining, really- for his life, for his friends, for everything ever.

her eyes flick in confusion. he can't stay here, obviously, he needs to find a different place. somewhere else, where he can't ruin everything.

from everyone

the black in his vision is slowly falling away. there's... so many people here, faces he can't recognize, sitting in a grassy plain in a village.

the grass underneath his claws is crushed. darkness is slipping from his limbs, leaking into his surroundings, indicative of the tears slipping from his half-closed eyes.

(i need a place to stay)

they're going to throw him out, he's corrupting the fabric of the fucking world-

where will he go, where will he go-? he has no private worlds, everything he once owned is destroyed, surely, they wouldn't lie about finishing a task so easy-

where i can cover up my face

the blade falls away. he raises his blurry eyes, letting them rake across the players (is he one anymore?) standing infront of him.

people look... horrified. by what, though? he can vaguely feel cuts across his broken skin bleeding, sluggishly, but he's sure they wouldn't. care.

"don't cry-"