#Me drawing this like 'Back when Skizz had fluffy hair'

[fountainpenguin]

"It's like a dagger hanging over my head... Every day is just the same; I always have to hang my head in shame..." (x)

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New Criminal Experience chapter today!

Chapter 4 - “Marked”

Read on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

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Impulse is in a fight. Mumbo didn't get to watch. After all, Skizz teleported him out of there before long. But while hiding in Skizz's spawn room, Mumbo realizes that a few very important "somethings" got left behind.

Skizz, however, seems oddly reluctant to poof back to look for them. Between that and the whole "Skizz is a wanted man" thing, it would seem these two have a lot to talk about…

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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Marked

Three seconds later…

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Is this what it feels like to be… carried? To be held not like a package, but like a precious thing? Mumbo curls in on himself, shivering, and reaches for the sleeves of his robes. They aren't there. And his fingers aren't there because they don't exist. Or they do… but not in solid form. It's the idea of fingers, and the idea of Mumbo, and he's hurtling through a river like an arrow shot through stars. He has nothing to hold, and nothing to hold with… so he wraps himself around Skizzleman in his nonexistent way, and Skizz - who doesn't exist - pulls him closer with one arm.

They explode like bursting TNT. Blots of shadow and bright purple sparkles rain around them. Mumbo flops on a bed with a grunt. Is it a bed? He touches it, dragging his fingertips across the quilt. When he blinks, pink lanterns glow back at him. He's huddled in his own robes and silky black bedsheets. One arm clenches his stomach. His fingers curl through it, pinching skin.

Where am I?

It's… familiar, in a way he can't describe. There is something very comfortable about the walls pressing in all around. This room feels like a perfect cube. Is it perfect? Mumbo sits up, nice and slow, bracing himself with his palms. He breathes… He breathes through the pounding in his head.

"It's my spawn room," Skizz says behind him. Mumbo turns his head. Skizz stands in the far corner of the room, fingering the collar of his blue jumper. Mumbo almost makes eye contact, then remembers to drop his gaze. Skizz grimaces in reply. Long fingers pinch the hem of that sleeve. Mumbo watches that instead, just because he doesn't know what else to do with his eyes.

"We're… in the ender-spawn temple?"

"Yeah. You'll be safe here, buddy… No one can get in unless I bring them. Although I wouldn't recommend stepping through the door. I'm, uh… pretty sure that got griefed."

Mumbo's fingers curl tighter in the sheets. Skizz is staring at him with those big ol' eyes. He can feel them tracing up his back, but he can't just look… Or he shouldn't look, anyway. He cringes inward, breathing hard.

Deep breathes. Really, really deep breaths.

"This… this is your room? Isn't that, uhh… kinda…?"

Skizz's fingers fidget in the corner of Mumbo's eye. He takes a breath of his own. "Don't be like that…"

"Right. Yes. Just… a thing. That regular… buddies… do. Yeah. This is, um…." Oh dear…

He breathes again and takes a more careful look around. The room is lit by a single lantern of purple endflame. It's pretty… Much more contained in its little frosted glass than the bare soul sconces back in Little Sun. The glow is so low, Mumbo stares directly at it for several seconds before tearing his eyes away. He doesn't even need to blink to clear any spots from his vision.

This room is 5 blocks across and 5 blocks wide, just like his own spawn room back home. Taller, though, with a higher ceiling. That's only to be expected (body stereotypes and all). It's been cleared out of everything. Bare shelves. Empty trash bin. No clutter on the side table. Double-U stands in the corner, neck bent. Buzz nuzzles against her face with her soft little head.

"… It's quite nice in here, actually. What a lovely little place."

He's not been living here… He's making appearances. Where's all his supplies?

Skizz says nothing. Mumbo looks down at the bed he's kneeling on. The covers are mostly on the floor, like someone kicked them off in a hurry. He slides off the bed, right beside a pair of slipper. This is familiar. It's familiar in a way his beating hearts can stand, straining at his insides they may be.

Oh my goodness, I'm in another man's spawn room. Mumbo's eyelids twitch up. He leans forward, grabbing his hood, and drags it down over his face.

"Mumbles?" Quick little footsteps cross the room. Skizz's arms must be folded, because Mumbo can hear the lurching way he moves- the way his arms aren't swinging, jumper pressed tight like he's holding back a wound. "Talk to me, buddy. Are you hurt? If anybody hurt you, Impulse and I can mess 'em up."

"… N-not that this isn't charming, but can we go somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else?"

Mumbo closes his eyes. He listens to noises outside the spawn room. It sounds like people are moving through the hall, mostly zinging back and forth as they poof away. No one's yelling, though. The glow of the default lights will indicate the room is occupied, but there's nothing to be done about that.

"… Um. Well, this is awkward. Did you not see my wanted poster? I'm a marked man, dude."

"Yes, but… Skizz, this is really very…"

"Hey." Skizz lowers himself, reaching for Mumbo's face. Mumbo flinches back, knuckles tight around his hood. He keeps his face away, keeps his eyes down, and tries not to look at him. Even when his eyes are glowing and it's very, very tempting to look at him right now. "Look, it's… I know it's not super-duper-pooper-scooper, but I'm still your bodyguard. I'm not- I'm not gonna, like, disintegrate you."

"Skizz, that's not- That's not the part that worries me, dude…"

Skizz pauses, breathing against Mumbo's hair. "That doesn't worry you?"

"I mean, yeah! I mean, I'm glad you led with that, but…" I wasn't afraid you'd rip me apart to bulk up your form. You didn't give me that impression. Mumbo's fingers tremble anyway. He removes his satchel. This moves his elbows, forcing Skizz to back off just a hair without being real offensive. "Dude, this is your spawn room. You… You have full control of every pixel in here. I don't think it's a good idea…"

Skizz does not touch him. His hands float in empty space and Mumbo can pick up on the hot glow of his eyes even through his crunched-up eyelids. "I'm sorry… But it's the only place we can be safe. I know it's… Like, yeah, there's some really messed up stuff that could happen in here… but I'm not gonna dooo that. You're safe with me, Mumbo. I promise."

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

[will-falling-fell]

Now we feature a one-shot based on an image I can't draw trapped in my head. Once again, focused on @fluffy-papaya 's Apocalypse ZITS AU... No edits we die with the first draft.

Warnings: violence, armed threats, choking (ask to add more)

They were alone when he saw Zedaph's face clearly, for the first time since meeting.

But that wasn't entirely true.

Despite the man being several inches taller, it took almost no effort to knock him over and pin him with a knee to the chest. It only took another moment to have a knife to his neck, his other arm bearing down Bdubs's bodyweight on his throat to prevent any cry for help. "I should've known," he snarled.

Zedaph looked terrified and scrabbled at his neck, his other arm clutching Bdubs's shoulder and pushing to keep the knife away.

"Where is Doc?" He didn't have much time. This trio were never apart for very long. "What happened to him?"

Zedaph grabbed the arm on his neck and made an unintelligible sound. Reluctantly, Bdubs shifted his weight and watched as Zedaph wheezed. "I-I don't know," he rasped, voice half-choked still.

Bdubs pressed the knife deeper, drawing blood with the tip. "Tell me the truth or I'll slit your throat."

"I don't know!" Zed repeated, pitch rising in panic. "He got caught– Beef and Etho found him helping people get out of that company! They—" Zedaph gasped as the knife bit deeper, twisting away for any extra room. "All I know is they got into a fight! And Doc- Doc never made it to the rendezvous!"

Bdubs glared at Zedaph, itching to kill him anyway. There was a knock on the door, and he suddenly remembered his mission. Dammit, Beef.

"You two get lost in there?" Impulse called.

Bdubs eased back just a bit. He needed Zedaph alive to finish the mission, at least easily. "I know you know more."

Zedaph gulped down more air, still only able to half-fill his lungs. "It was a gunfight, okay? Between your pals and the guys getting out. Doc got caught in the middle. We only escaped because they stopped shooting after he got the brunt of a pipe bomb. I don't even know if he's alive."

Skizz's voice interrupted, only slightly muffled through the door. "I'm comin' in! I'll laugh if you two are smoochin'."

Bdubs pressed his weight down on Zed's neck and chest again, barely registering him scrabble weakly. Every instinct in his body told him to finish Zed off and kill the rest, here and now. Three Fox Hole needed them alive, Beef hadn't explained why but Bdubs knew he had a good reason. With a growl he stood up and sheathed his knife. Zedaph curled on his side and coughed violently while Bdubs quickly positioned the nearby dropped bike helmet, and posed himself with one hand worriedly gripping Zed's shoulder. Just seconds later, Skizzleman and Impulse rounded the corner.

"Dudes- what happened?" Skizz rushed forward.

"He tripped and fell weird on his helmet!" Bdubs didn't have to feign the nervousness in his voice. "Saved himself a broken nose but sure looked like it hurt."

"Zed, you gonna be alright my dude?" 

Zedaph's breaths still rattled in his throat. He looked up when Skizz brushed his hair out of his eyes and offered a weak grin and a thumbs-up. He didn't look at Bdubs.

"Jeez- is that blood?" 

Bdubs regretted the knife as his heartbeat kicked up to racing.

"Not cool. C'mon Zed, let's get you cleaned up."

Bdubs helped Skizz help Zedaph to his feet, picking up his helmet. He caught Impulse's eye and quickly looked away, well aware the ruse would only last as long as Zedaph decided to keep quiet. He hoped it would be just a few days more, and doubted it would even take an hour.

He didn't like how Impulse had been watching him; how the man's cold gaze felt like it could almost read his mind. It made his skin crawl.