#all spiraling towards mumbo.....

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Ari AU - Part Three

Part One ; Part Two ; Part Four ; Part Five

Part Three of my and @angeart 's popstar Grian AU :). In this part, things start on the downward spiral as Grian struggles with invasions of her privacy and her mental health.

CONTENT WARNINGS for this part: suicidal ideation, self-hatred, body image issues, pills/medication, graphic suicide attempt, hospitals, vomiting, (likely inaccurate) medical procedures, description of a seizure

Enjoy this disaster.

Therapy and Error

After some brainstorming and a lot of searching, Scar and Grian find a private therapist. Grian… isn’t exactly thrilled about it, but she’s also very aware that she had planned to kill herself, and that is not a place she wants to be in, really. They arrange for the therapist to do home visits- thank goodness Grian is rich- and things start to look less terrible.

Scar takes up baking whilst Grian is in her therapy sessions, surprising Grian with treats after each excruciating two-hour block. Of course, it has to be a very confidential thing. The therapist has to sign a lot of NDAs and legal agreements about Grian's safety and confidentiality. 

A few weeks of lengthy sessions pass, and the therapist suggests antidepressants. Grian outright refuses at first- afraid of what could potentially go wrong- but after a long argument with Scar, he agrees to try them. 

The antidepressants seem effective, at first, which is wonderful considering how bad these things can go. However, they start to cause some bad physical side effects- nausea, concerning weight fluctuations, insomnia, fatigue- all while she's trying to appear in public as little as possible. She knows she looks a mess, they don't need to tell her on the front page of every tabloid!

In trying to do better, be better, for Scar, Grian hides the side effects as much as possible. Because they are working, right? She can wear baggy clothes, and throw away food, and take naps while Scar is busy. But, Scar knows her, and is not easily fooled. He brings up that Grian seems to have lost his appetite, he looks drained. Scar notices when he doesn't sleep, and she has been especially irritable lately. Maybe it's time to try something else. 

Grian didn't even realise she had been whiney and sharp towards Scar. He feels horrible for putting Scar through that. Still, they argue for an hour about what they can do. Grian feels attacked, like his meds are going to be taken away and he'll be back to wanting to die again. That isn't what Scar is arguing for, but wires get crossed and they end up in a messy shouting match which ends in tears. 

Later, Scar explains what he meant. Grian reluctantly agrees to trying a new brand of antidepressants. Her therapist seems happy that she's responding to her own experiences. The new meds aren’t as efficient, dropping her mood into a negative in the first week, even, but they don’t make Grian sick, so that’s a plus.

In the middle of the night, a few weeks into the new med cycle, she gets a call from Mumbo, warning her about tomorrow's tabloid front pages. They caught a picture of her, through her window, as she was taking her meds. Mumbo’s looking at the pages now, sent to him by an anonymous worker for the publication. They’re going with an addict storyline. It looks bad. Grian looks… terrible. Tired, with unwashed hair, wearing shabby clothes, and she’s gained weight- which they’re eager to point out.

Mumbo doesn’t so much scold her as tell her to be more careful. Honestly, Grian is offended. She's been so careful. She doesn't even understand how they managed to get a photo of her like that. It must have been an accident on her part. It must have been her fault.

It’s such a severe breach of her privacy. She can’t feel safe in her own home, can she? And they think she’s an addict, that she’s lost her mind, that she’s fallen into the deep end and it’s her fault. It’s her fault. She’s weak and ugly and they caught her at her worst, but her worst is just normal, now.

Which is really very bad. Oh god, she's gonna have to do another interview, isn't she? Another round of questioning. Another round of ridicule. Scar will be under fire again, too. She’ll have to make it all public. Everything. It’ll be awful. She… she can’t do it.

Attempt One - Pills

Grian tries not to wake Scar up as she heads to their ensuite bathroom. Her thoughts are spinning in her head, clouding her mind. A wave of dizziness overcomes her. She grips the sink. Stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It is ugly. Worthless.

For a long moment, she considers her life. She breathes deeply as it dawns on her, not for the first time, that she will never be free. There will never be a private moment of her life. She will never have a normal existence. Neither will Scar. All of this, because she wanted to sing.

There is a deep, unshaken feeling inside her. It tells her the only way out is to go away. To leave, permanently. It will all stop if she removes herself from the equation. Scar will be upset. Her fans will be upset. But they will get over it. They’ll move on to something better, like they deserve to.

He opens the medicine cabinet and comes face to face with a bottle of his antidepressants. It feels like things will never get better. Like as soon as she tries to find some hope, it will be torn away from her. To say she isn’t thinking when she swallows the pills would be a lie- she’s thinking of everything, too much, all the time. She thinks of Scar as she washes the medication down with water from the tap. When she looks at the bottle again, it is empty.

It’s easy to walk back to bed and lay down next to Scar. As she snuggles against his side, he wakes, relaxing into the peaceful moment briefly as his senses come to him. Scar blinks his eyes open, and sees the bathroom light has been left on. 

Well, no worries, he can just get up and turn it off. He doesn’t want to leave Grian’s side, but a little trip across the room won’t do any harm. It’s not like they can sleep with the bathroom light left on, anyway. He carefully gets out of bed, and, quiet as he can, makes his way to the bathroom. 

Of course, this is when he sees the empty pill bottle, sitting there in the sink. Scar’s heart stops. He freezes, for a moment, processing the image in front of him. Oh. Oh, god.

Scar rushes back to Grian’s side, shaking her shoulder and asking what happened to the pills. He wants to believe they were flushed down the toilet. He wants to believe they just forgot to restock the meds. But Grian is barely awake, whispering that it’s fine, don’t worry, she just… took some pills, it’s okay. It’ll all be okay.

In seconds, Scar is scrambling for his phone and calling an ambulance. The woman on the other side asks a lot of questions that Scar can’t answer. He doesn’t know how many pills Grian took, or how long ago. He needs to go to the bathroom to find the brand of pills, because he doesn’t remember the name and goodness knows he won’t be able to pronounce it, but he can’t leave Grian’s side- the woman tells him not to. She asks if Grian is responsive (hardly), if he’s thrown up (not yet), and what Scar was doing before he found out (sleeping). 

It’s all too much. He doesn’t know. He can’t- he runs and grabs the bottle in the bathroom anyway, and struggles through tears to read the label, every second away from Grian feeling like eternity. 

When the woman on the phone asks him to spell the name of the medication, he mixes up his letters a dozen times. He feels completely inadequate. He feels like Grian is about to die. He’s freaking out. Why isn’t the woman on the phone also freaking out?

Alone in bed, Grian is afraid. Scar is there, but she needs Scar to hold him, now, because she’s dying, and that’s so scary, and she chose this. She’s actually dying. It didn’t feel real before, but now it does. And- oh, he’s gonna throw up. 

He throws up over the side of the bed and Scar’s voice raises in panic, but Grian doesn’t know what he’s saying. His hand is on her shoulder but it doesn’t feel like anything. Just a numb sort of pressure. She starts mumbling that she’s scared. She just wants to sleep. Her stomach hurts. Really badly, actually. He tries to tell Scar, but he can’t move. 

There are flashing lights outside and deliriously Grian thinks he’s being photographed again. Weakly, he worries that the last image of him ever published will be him sick and dying in bed. He breathes Scar’s name.

But Scar is suddenly gone. Vanished. Everything sounds like it’s underwater, but there are footsteps somewhere- lots of them- and Grian is so afraid. Voices sound muffled. More people are there. Are they going to hurt her?

It’s all too much. It all hurts. Her world is fading away and Scar isn’t there. He’s not there. He’s not…

Hospital Visit Three

Grian is taken away in an ambulance, very quickly. Scar doesn’t have a chance to say anything to her, so with numb hands he gets in his car and follows the ambulance to the hospital. He thinks, a little hysterically, they’ve been going to this hospital far too much lately. 

When he arrives, he has to pay for parking. It’s stupid, but that almost makes Scar break down all over again. He’s barely thinking as he sits in the waiting room, time passing completely beyond him. After half an hour- maybe- of sitting, staring at the wall and hoping Grian isn’t already dead, Scar realises he should call the crew.

Of course, they all rush to the hospital to be there, but it’s weird. It’s quiet. The only other people in the waiting room are a father and young boy, and an elderly woman. No one knows what to do or say. Scar just sits there, slightly shaking, unable to express all the things going on in his head. Pearl tries to get him to eat something. It doesn’t work.

After a few hours of waiting a doctor comes to speak with Scar privately. Scar is so certain that he's about to be given horrible news. He's shaking worse as they go into a small office, private, away from everyone else. Strangely, he finds himself distracted by the posters of anatomical diagrams on the walls.  

The doctor tells Scar that they did what they could- flushed the drugs from Grian's system, pumped his stomach and put him on several IVs as well as oxygen. They've had to put him into a medical coma, and they don't know how stable he's going to remain. Anything could happen from this point onwards. Scar is allowed to see Grian if he wishes. Only Scar. The others need to wait.

He tells them what’s happening, anyway. The doctors also inform them that Grian’s heart gave out at one point. It scares Scar so much that Grian technically died already. Yes, it was only for maybe 30 seconds, and he’s alive now, but Scar didn’t even know. He was just sitting and waiting while it happened. 

In the hospital bed, Grian looks small. Completely vulnerable. Sickly pale, and near-dead. 

If Grian had died, Scar would only now be finding out. Instead, he sits in a chair next to the bed and cries because he can't really hold Grian like this, not without setting off the sensitive equipment around them. All he can think about is how things might have gone if he'd been a few minutes slower in calling the ambulance- or a few minutes faster. Would Grian be awake now? Would they have still needed to send him under? Will he ever wake up?

The quiet waiting doesn’t last. A pic gets leaked and fans and paparazzi start to flock to the hospital. It looks bad, from the photograph. For some horrible reason, they think Scar is an abuser. That he did this to Grian (the picture shows her being carried out of their house on a stretcher, looking dead) and now the crew has to deal with it, as they deal with everything else.

Scar goes out to speak to the crowd, but fails miserably. He doesn’t want to at first, unwilling to leave Grian’s side, but the others are struggling. Pearl, Impulse and Mumbo try their best to explain things without giving away personal information, or leaking the suicide attempt. It doesn’t work. The crowd wants to hear from Scar. He’s practically dragged out of the hospital, told to get the crowd under control- to say anything- even if just for the hospital staff’s sake.

And then, predictably, Grian wakes up and Scar isn’t there.

Alone and strapped to the bed- she's confused and disorientated and thinks, maybe, he's been kidnapped or something. He doesn't remember what happened. Then all of a sudden there are so many people flooding into the room, all in surgical masks and white coats. 

She thrashes about trying to escape but it doesn't help. Someone's telling him to calm down. Someone's holding his arm. Wiping it with a disinfectant wipe. Then there's a needle and a sharp pain and he goes limp within a few seconds, muscles relaxing forcibly as he panics. His breathing is unstable and there's a mask over her face that she didn't even notice until now. He's in tears. 

Some of the people leave. Where's Scar? Her stomach hurts too. A lot. She can't speak with the mask on. His throat is horribly sore. He wants water. He wants to be set free. It's too bright. She's getting a headache. 

A nurse tells him it's okay, he's in the hospital, he's stable and they're here to help. He doesn't really care. Minutes later, Scar hurries into the room. Grian wants to reach out to him but can't. She’s scared. But Scar is there- there and putting a hand up to his face. Scar looks so tired. and worried. 

He asks Grian if he remembers what happened. Grian squints, his head hurts, and he tries to remember. Then it hits him hard. The fuzzy memories. He's shaking, then. Panicking harder. He can hear his heart monitor beeping at a terrible pace. Her breathing gets out of control. The nurses are pushing Scar aside. Something's wrong. 

Her whole body goes tense. Her eyes roll back. Painful spasms buzz up her spine. The world flashes: too dark and too bright. She passes out.

[hornyhornyhimbos]

Prompts. 6. and 7.:

Aaron is tall while Reader is short in height. After a FBI event it gets spicy between the couple.

sorry this took so long for me to post, i don't have an excuse

"Riding 'Til Midnight" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: When Y/N gets the promotion of her dreams, Hotch knows the perfect way to reward her for it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (no description of Y/N but R goes by she/her)

Word Count: 872

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content), oral m!receiving, cum swallowing, gagging, i guess deepthroating? idrk, nicknames (Hotch calls R "doll") alcohol consumption, mentions of cowgirl activities at the end but no details, one (1) explicit swear word, lemme know if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i'm nasty, i know

Based On the Prompts: "You look so good beneath me." ☆ "You can take it."

Originally Written: 12/13/2022

Beta Read By: @reidsbookclub

smut prompts can be found here!

hornyhornyhimbos ask box can be found here!

Y/N wasn't sure how she'd done it, but in the span of an hour, she'd scored a promotion, gotten a little bit tipsy on Penelope Garcia's signature spiked eggnog, and ended up nearly naked on the couch in Aaron Hotchner's office.

Actually, maybe she could recall exactly how it had happened.

It started seven months ago, when she was temporarily moved from the Violent Crimes Division to the BAU as they were searching for a temporary liaison while theirs was on maternity leave.

She quickly formed a friendship with Aaron Hotchner, which soon spiraled into the stereotypical, semi-secret workplace romance.

They'd happily been in a relationship for five months, and neither of them were afraid to flaunt it at workplace events—e.g. the office Christmas party.

That was how she'd gotten tipsy on eggnog. Y/N found herself downing her third glass of it when Aaron ushered her over.

That was when she scored the promotion. Aaron's hand sat low on her back as he introduced her to the older man he'd previously been talking to. "Y/N, this is Agent Chambers from the White Collar Crimes Division. Scott, this is Agent Y/L/N from Violent Crimes."

Y/N gave him a small smile, reaching her hand toward the man. "Nice to meet you," she greeted, staying as professionally cordial as she possibly could.

"The same," Scott smiled back. "Agent Hotchner has told me all about your interest in the White Collar Crimes Division."

She nodded, though her heart felt like it would thump out of her chest. "Yes, that's correct."

"Well, it just so happens that our Division is searching for a new liaison. Ours has just retired."

Her mouth nearly dropped to the floor, her heart definitely dropped to her toes. "Yes, sir."

"The position would start the second week of January if you're interested."

She rushed probably too fast to grab his hand, shaking it probably too vigorously. "Yes, of course, sir. I'm extremely interested."

"Great. We'll set up a time after the holiday break to go over the legal mumbo-jumbo."

And with that, he walked away, stumbling toward the refreshments table. As soon as his back was turned, Y/N pounced on Aaron, which was no small feat when one considered he was nearly a foot taller than her.

That was how she ended up in nothing but her bra and panties on Hotch's couch, his lips heavy on her neck.

"Aaron," she got out, tugging at his hair.

"Hmm?" he hummed, sucking hard at the base of her neck.

Her hips rutted against his as she managed to answer, "I need you."

He pulled away before leaving a plump kiss on her lips. "Since this is congratulatory, I think it's only fair my girl gets to choose how she gets me."

A gasp hitched in her throat. Eventually, she was able to say, "Need to taste you."

He smirked, sitting up from his previous position where he was hovering over her. "Sounds like a plan to me," he smirked.

He undid his suit pants, pulling them off and laying them as neatly as he could across the back of his chair. "Can't have anyone suspecting what we're doing in here, now can we?"

She swallowed hard as he slid out of his boxers, her eyes nearly watering at the sight of his fat cock. She held him in her hands for a few seconds before leaving a kiss on the tip.

"Don't tease me, doll," he said before grabbing her chin. "You wanted to taste me, didn't you?"

And with that, she opened her mouth, nearly gagging as he slid in. She sucked hard, a tear nearly slipping from her eye as she tasted his pre-cum.

He slid into her mouth even further, if it was even possible. Her hands moved to his bare thighs, squeezing tightly as she hollowed her cheeks. She took him as far as she possibly could, her tongue pressing hard against the vein of his shaft.

"You can take it," he told her, pushing so far in, he was sure he'd felt her uvula tapping the tip of his cock.

"Mmm," she rebutted against his cock, the rumble of her throat prompting Aaron to let out a low mewl.

He grabbed her cheeks, pulling her further up the base of his length. "There you go," he praised.

She moved one hand from his thighs to his balls, cupping them before massaging them at what Hotch would describe "the perfect speed".

He moaned, a sound that was perfect to Y/N's ears. "Taking me so well, doll. 'M close."

She sucked harder, until his cum shot straight down her throat, the sweet taste warming her throat as she swallowed it.

He removed himself, a pout sitting softly on Y/N's face as he did so. He ran a hand through her hair, his eyelashes hanging almost innocently as those deep brown eyes looked down at her. "Fuck, you look so good beneath me."

A smirk tugged at her lips as she remarked, "I bet I'd look good on top of you too."

That was how she ended up riding him until midnight, until the only thing that lingered in the office with them was the remnants of Penelope's spiked eggnog.

-> Taglist will be found here!

[thecoolerliauditore]

Look I know you said it’s funnier without explanation but if you’re up for it, can you please share your thoughts on the freudian vibes post? I’m guessing that it’s Scott treating Cleo like a mom and Jimmy treating Martyn like a dad?

anon IDK why I felt the need to like. write an essay regarding this. You've basically got it down pact that's literally the whole joke everything else is stupid. but I made you wait so like. whatever man.

under the cut is the horrors but tl;dr:

martyn/jimmy: martyn needs to be someone's husband/dad to feel like he deserves to be loved and jimmy feels comfort in being cared for but is ultimately frustrated with being infantilized.

cleo/scott: much much muddier but cleo gives scott the privilege of being The Mature One who gets her (when scott is not this) while scott gets an illusion of unconditional stability (which cleo can only sometimes provide)

Martyn/Jimmy is the more cut and dry one, mostly sourcing from their Evo relationship and their interactions in traffic smp.

Martyn is someone who feels the need to be a provider/protector and feels frustrated when he is denied that role (e.g. look at his bridge conversation with Cleo in DL or his reaction to jimmy half-rejecting his offer to run away with him in 3L and acting spitefully towards jimmy at least verbally for the rest of the season).

In my head he is someone who feels as if he is undeserving of a certain level of emotional intimacy (often associated with romantic relationships) if he doesn't perform well enough in said role(s) since the people he strives to "protect"/"rescue" are often the same he acts romantically towards (Ren, Cleo, Jimmy).

This isn't a fully sound point since the southlanders and especially mumbo kind of contradict this but I think the southlanders were kind of a messy specific instance of the worst traits of every member all combining together to form an alliance from hell but that's for another post methinks. Grian is also an outlier but I'd argue that could be seen as him misdirecting his need to rescue jimmy onto the next guy he saw.

Jimmy, on the other hand, is often put into roles where he is assumed incapable of taking responsibility and thus denied of his agencies and thus he ends up in this weird position where, depending on who he is with, he is either someone's tradwife or everyone's youngest brother. What responsibilities he does get are often whatever is deemed most unimportant by the other party he's with, regardless of whether those things are actually important (e.g. him taking care of Martyn emotionally when he spirals in Evo during the election arc).

I'm not actually a massive jimmy guy so I can't say for sure what his feelings towards Martyn are, but whatever they are they seem to be heavily conflicting. Jimmy is more abrasive towards Martyn and seems to be more comfortable teasing him and making jokes at his expense, but at the same time becomes cold to him very easily, such as in 3L when he began shooting specifically at Martyn right before his final death or in SL when he tries to kill Martyn and then runs away stating that he "can't go home now". To me, it is as if Jimmy is frustrated with the "incapable" role he gets put into which his relationship with Martyn epitomizes both the romantic and caretaker aspects of, but at the same time Martyn brings him a level of nostalgic comfort.

TL;DR jimmy reminds me of this:

(from: "my lesbian experience with loneliness")

one final note regarding jimmy/martyn: this could go the other way around as well, with the aforementioned emotional care jimmy gives martyn in evo as well as one throwaway line near the end of the series where martyn says something to the effect of "thank god you're back, I don't know how to cook or anything". However I don't think this point is too important since the big point of this is jimmy and martyn wanting to feel loved and cared for by eachother with the conflicting feelings attached.

I'm having a lot of trouble putting the Scott/Cleo section into words rn but I'll reblog this with that added later when I'm processing information in a more digestible manner 👍

[candy-applers]

Home at last

Fandom?: Hermitcraft/MCYT

Who?: Rendog

Extras: Winged reader, Werewolf Ren, other hermits origins included. 

___________

‘Here’s the copper you needed!’ 

Your voice echoes through the air of his kingdom, the atmosphere calming you.  

‘Aww, thank you Y/N! I’ve been needing this for a future project of mine!’ 

Sausage had been talking about trying to get copper, but always coming across areas the other rulers have mined before. You had put it upon yourself at the beginning of the season to become the ‘Gift’ kingdom, doing favors and collecting ores and minerals for the other emperors. 

‘No problem Sausage! But if you don’t mind, I do have to go so I can get some other batches of copper and other things to the other empires, so I guess I’ll come around later!’

You flex your wings, bending your knees and taking off, flying off, but not before Sausage yelled a farewell to you. 

~~

Finally getting home from Jimmy’s kingdom, you strip your armor off from your body, shoulders and wings sagging, happy to be out from their prison made of enhanced diamond. Trudging towards your kitchen, you pull out a cup and some tea bags, beginning to heat up some water. As you're pouring the water into the cup, your communicator beeps, startling you slightly, spilling the boiling water into the floor, splashing your feet. Grabbing a towel and escaping from the hot water, you manage to finish making your tea without spilling anymore, finally grabbing that, some snakes, and your communicator, curious on who messaged you and why. 

Getting to your quarters, you set the tea and snakes on the table next to your bed, and plop onto the bed with your communicator open and active. You check your contacts replying to any messages sent by Jimmy and Scott, and sending a quick goodnight or two to a few others. You close out of the server chat and check the universal chat, where you have a few hermits saved to. You realize that Grian had messaged you, which confused you since last you heard he was busy with trying to negotiate the retirement of an emperor to the server again. 

(Text from Grian: [**] Text from you: {**} :])

[Hey! I’ve talked with a few people, and I’d like to ask how you’d like to join back onto hermitcraft?]

You freeze, overloaded with a multitude of emotions. Happiness, anxiety, surprise, and most of all, excitement. You’d be able to finally see Ren again! You make your decision and type out a reply.

{Of course! I’d love to join back and stay with you all! Me and Pixel were just talking about that! When should I come?}

You sit and wait, anxiety creeping up on you, making yourself doubt if Grian was pranking you or not. Before your mind could begin to spiral, your communicator dings, signaling someone had replied to you. 

(Time skippe)

You enter the hermitcraft server for the first time in a while, having left to join a new multiplayer world a friend you had met made. You look around, realizing that there had been some new players, such as Pearllecentmoon and Geminitay. You were excited to see everyone again, with the exception of finally meeting Pearl and Gem. 

You can hear the beats of wings through the air, and before you could react, a body slams into you, knocking you to the ground. As you try and process what just happened, you could hear the signature giggles of Grian, the failed suppressed laughs from Scar, and the hearty chuckles from Mumbo. 

‘Wow, thanks for the welcome party’ 

You sarcastically remark, chucking slightly as you push Grian off you, Standing up to dust yourself off and stretch your wings out. 

‘Well I’m sorry I have such good ideas!’ 

Grian pouts, all while Scar bursts into laughter, while Mumbo helps you dust off the dirt. You take a good look at Grian, realizing that he had wings! Looking at mambo and scar, Scar had elven ears, and Mumbo had moth wings and antennae, you were surprised. Grian’s wings were multiple shades of red, yellow, and green (Reminding you of parrot wings), Scar had ears that were highly pointed at the top, and Mumbo had beautiful copper colored wings, oranges and greens mixing together to create a beautiful artistic masterpiece. You wondered how all of the other hermits would react to seeing you back, especially considering how grian reacted..

~~~

After a tiring day of catching up with the other hermits, Grian is finally taking you to see Ren, who was currently with Doc, helping him with some kind of build. As you and Grian make your way towards where Ren supposedly was with Doc, Grian’s communicator pings. He slows down a second, peeking a look at the device.

‘Aww, I'm so sorry Y/N, but it looks like Tango needs some help with something. Ren should be right over there, by the giant hole with the flagpole in the middle of it’

And with that information, he took off in the opposite direction, towards Tango’s base of operations. You continue in the way he had motioned to when explaining where, only to come across a giant sign saying:

[Y/N!!----->]

The sign pointed towards a patch of land not too far from where it was posted, so you spread your wings, and took off in that direction. Upon reaching the patch of land, you could see something that looked like a lump of fur on top of a pillar, only to realize it was just Ren, with…Ears and a Tail?!

You fly down to him, and you look up to see him, having noticed your presence, with eyes of admiration. 

‘Hi-’

Before you could get a word out, you’re engulfed into his body, arms wrapped strongly around you, making sure you wouldn’t leave. You lean into it, placing your head onto his chest as he brings you both down to sit on the cloth laid out on the floor. 

Sitting there for the next few hours, you and Ren both sit there and enjoy each other’s presence, no words being said. But one thing was clear, and that was:

You were finally home

Hey! Author here! Once again this was not proof read, so if you could point out any mistakes, I am open to correcting it! Enjoy! Also, requests are official open! Head over to there and submit a request! Make sure to read the rules before requesting!

[canned-goose-feathers]

XVI.

BdoubleO100 fell from a high place

BdoubleO100 fell from a high place

BdoubleO100 fell from a high place

Grian balances some mossy cobble in one hand to peek at his comm. Huh. Maybe Bdubs is building somewhere high? To be honest, he hasn't seen what Bdubs is building this season. He's been a bit preoccupied. The glare from the setting sun is enough to make him squint and raise his hands. Maybe he’s been working too long today. There’s another ping from his comm.

BdoubleO100 swam in lava

Grian purses his lips. The cobble in his hands is starting to slip, the moss wet with dew and his own sweat, so he shoves his comm in his pocket and reorients himself best he can. It's an active effort to shove his spiraling thoughts away these days. He's been avoiding Scar and Mumbo, claiming to be far too busy to help test their redstone or tour the park or play whatever new card game the rest of the hermits have become obsessed with. 

Thankfully they seemed to pick up on his mood, and had been giving him space. Most of the hermits had been giving him space. Save for Xisuma, who’s stopped by at least once to check on him; thankfully the admin’s made a point not to stand too close when he does visit, which Grian appreciates. 

By the time he sets the cobble down, his comm has pinged three more times. Dusting his hands off, Grian pulls it out. 

BdoubleO100 fell from a high place

Xisuma: you okay dubs?

BdoubleO100: fine

Grian frowns. Maybe Bdubs is having a hard day? He types out half a message in the global chat, erases it, and starts typing something in his whispers to Bdubs, but he stops. Were this a few months ago, he would jump at the idea of helping Bdubs out. After all, that’s what the hermits do, right? They help each other out, they’re a big happy family. 

Except they weren’t, were they?

Nausea creeps up his throat and sits behind his teeth until he shivers, wings fluffing out. He needs to fix this or . . . do something. He’s not even sure what it is that needs fixing, and thinking about it burrows spikes into his brain. He glances towards where he knows the Entity is as if he's some kind of compass bound to it. 

Grian’s tired. Not tired like he would be after a long day’s work, or exhausted like he’d feel on returning from a Life session. He’s tired, bone-deep, of the feeling of being hunted he’s had since he set foot on season nine. He’s been running like a rabbit for too long and now weariness weighs him down, slows his brain and body, even as the wolf gets closer. Except, of course, it never really catches him. Either he’s too stubborn, too unwilling to yield . . . or there’s no wolf. 

He stumbles next to his chest monster and barely catches himself on the edge of a shulker. Flying back . . . probably wasn’t the best idea. That’s okay, he’s thrown a bed down in the bottom of Dwayne for this exact reason. The sun has almost fully set when he manages to shuffle over to the bed, collapsing hard into it. He’s out like a light in seconds. 

He sleeps dreamlessly for what must only be minutes before a hand shakes him awake. He startles, wings flaring up. As consciousness comes back to him, so does confusion. It’s still nighttime? Sure enough, it’s quiet outside and he can see the darkness through the hole in the side of Dwayne. 

The second strange thing that deepens his confusion stands in front of him, holding a lantern. Bdubs looks . . . he doesn’t look good. There are bags under his eyes and a curl to his shoulders that Grian knows too well. It reminds him of season eight, when no one had slept well as the moon loomed closer. Bdubs shouldn’t look as ragged as he does though; It’s a new season. 

Grian props himself up and rubs an eye. “Dubs? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep,” Bdubs says, staring unblinkingly. Grian shifts uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze.

“Well, what d’you want me to do about it?” 

“I need you to kill me.”

That does wake Grian up. “What?”

Bdubs rolls his eyes, like Grian’s the one out of touch. Which, rude, but besides the point. “You know what I mean! God, doesn’t Scar tell you anything?”

Grian stares at him, wavering for a second before deciding that yeah, sure, this is a thing that can happen. He rolls somewhat inelegantly out of bed, his foot caught momentarily in the blanket in such a way that he bares his teeth at the offending object until he can free himself. He shuffles through his pile of belongings for probably a bit longer than necessary before grabbing his sword. There’s a half beat of breath as he steadies himself. Then, Grian lunges towards Bdubs and runs the sword through his chest. It slides through almost too easily with a sickening gush of blood along the enchanted metal edge. Bdubs gasps, his hot breath on Grian’s face and his eyes shining with instinctual tears. 

Grian is more than good at killing quickly, as long as the other party isn’t fighting back, and as he rips the sword from Bdubs’s gut, the man is already beginning to dissolve. There’s a tinge of copper in the air that makes Grian’s teeth chatter, but he shoves it down. 

BdoubleO100 was slain by Grian

Silence holds him down like a blanket. The buzz of the kill still trickles up and down his arms, but if he lays down right now and focuses, he should be able to get back to sleep. 

“No!” The sound of rockets and Bdubs’s frustrated yell dash his idea entirely. The now mostly bare hermit lands gracelessly on top of his items, shoving them in a shulker. “Quit playing around, Grian. Gosh, I knew Scar was the sadistic type but really, sometimes a man just wants to get some rest.”

Grian stares at him. Bdubs turns back around and puts his hands on his hips. 

“Now c’mon, are we gonna do this right? Do you need, like, a specific area? Some tools? I’m a bit too tired for a wine ‘n dine if I’m honest but I can write you an IOU—”

“Bdubs,” Grian cuts him off, his eyes wide and wary, “what are you talking about, are you alright?”

“I’m tired, and you’re being obtuse — I don’t really mean that — but seriously, Scar’s not here or else I’d go to him. I’m a creature of habit, y’know? But, in his absence, you’re the next best thing and . . . you . . .” Bdubs trails to a stop, finally seeming to take in Grian’s tense form. The silence is deafening, save for Grian’s shaky breath. His grip tightens on his sword (like that would do any good). 

Bdubs stares. Grian thinks there might be smoke coming out of his ears and his eyes rake over Grian in a way that makes him feel far too seen. Finally, he breaks the silence. “You don’t know, do you?”

It’s like throwing a rock at a glass wall. 

Grian’s mouth twists into what must be an unnatural snarl. It’s not the bright anger from the Entity that sparks like flint and steel, but instead his carefully-constructed barriers break under the weight of the rage behind them. Weeks, months, of being kept purposefully in the dark by his friends has taken more than a toll on him. This anger is all his, he knows that much. Now, he has an outlet. “No, evidently I don’t. But since you’re here and already talking, why don’t you tell me?”

“I can’t—”

“Why?”

“I just can’t, Grian, I—”

“You can’t.” Grian raises up his sword, taking a step towards Bdubs. “Scar can’t. Pearl can’t. Mumbo can’t. You all seem to know exactly what’s going on and you outright refuse to tell me. What, am I dying? Is my code being ripped apart from the inside?”

He takes another step. Bdubs begins to back away, his eyes wide, his hands held up as Grian continues to rant. “I deserve to know, don’t you think? I should know what’s happening with my own damn body. Because I certainly don’t know right now. I’m tired, Bdubs. You can at least appreciate that. Now let’s both leave here satisfied, hm? I’ll give you what you want, if you give me what I want.”

There’s a long silence. Bdubs has backed into a wall, the tip of Grian’s sword pressing into his chest. He’s breathing quicker, and some part of Grian preens at the idea that he caused this fear. Bdubs opens his mouth like a fish a few times, unsure, but Grian doesn’t waver. He’s tired of this. He wants answers. 

“I . . . Grian, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you,” Bdubs’s voice is barely above a whisper. 

Grian’s sword presses through his clothes and breaks the skin beneath. Red blooms across his shirt and the copper smell makes Grian’s mouth water. “Why not?”

“You have to ask . . . Scar.” There’s a beat. Grian narrows his eyes at the hesitation.

“Do you want to change that answer?” Bdubs shakes his head firmly. “And what am I going to ask Scar, then?”

“He told me not to tell you and . . . I can’t lose him. I can’t. If I tell you, everything I, we! Everything we built will come crashing down. Scar is . . . I don’t want to be on his bad side, Grian.”

“Scar. Scar Goodtimes. The man who is currently making a theme park and keeps blowing himself up by accident. The same man who maintained for a month and a half he was an elf and had those plastic elf ears. That Scar. That’s the one you’re scared of?”

“I’m not scared of him,” Bdubs snaps. 

“Then tell me!” 

“You’re not ready!”

Grian’s lip curls at that. “Not ready. He said the same thing to me, do you know that? Not ready. Shouldn’t I get to decide? Since when is Scar, of all people, deciding to be my knight in shining armor. Why on earth would he want to?”

“Now, that last one, I’m pretty sure you know,” Bdubs expression softens, something that Grian steadfastly and purposefully ignores in favor of pushing onwards. 

“This has to do with the Entity?”

Bdubs shrugs. Grian twists his hand and presses the sword deeper, earning a hiss out of Bdubs as his blood begins to run down the length of the blade. “Look! I don’t know, Scar doesn’t tell me about that, he’s just worried about you.”

“Fantastic way of showing it.”

“Look,” Bdubs says, raising his hands, “I don’t know jack about jack, and you and Scar clearly need to have a talk or something, so just like . . . kill me and I can go and I won’t bother you. Promise.”

Grian considers it for a long moment. It’s an effort to ignore the scent of blood and the ache in his stomach, but he does. Finally, he says “When you see Scar next, tell him to find me before I find him. It’ll go better that way.”

Before Bdubs can reply, Grian shoves his sword through the man’s stomach. Bdubs coughs and gasps, blood dribbling from his lips. Grian adjusts his grip to pull the sword out, but one of Bdubs’s bloody hands grabs his, stopping him. Grian’s brows knit together, but Bdubs just nods at him, slow and sure. Grian leaves the sword, leaves Dwayne entirely. Something about Bdubs bleeding out on the floor of his base makes him uneasy in a way he doesn’t like. 

BdoubleO100 was slain by Grian

It’s with shaking hands that Grian decides that he and Scar need to have a talk. Soon. 

[dead-man-in-the-grave]

Fake It Til You Make It (Might Not Be The Best Plan When It Comes To Dating)

(Cross-posted on AO3)

part one (you are here) | part two | part three | part four

The plan was simple.

Mumbo just needed to ask Scar to fake date him for a month or so, hopefully catch Grian's attention, and then fake break up with his friend and "end things" on good terms, and start dating Grian for real! And then they'll all still be friends and they'll live happily ever after!

Okay, well, maybe it won't go exactly like that, but close enough, right?

Right.

It'll be easy, just gotta meet up with Scar, explain his plan, and hope he'll be on board.

<MumboJumbo> Scar?

<MumboJumbo> Could I talk to you for a second?

<GoodTimeWithScar> Of course! What's up?

<MumboJumbo> In person? We could meet up at your base?

<GoodTimeWithScar> Ooh! Yup, I'll be here!

With that confirmation, Mumbo takes off towards the Swaggon.

It only takes about a minute to get to Scar's starter-base-turned-megabase. He shoots through the sky on elytra wings and just admires the land from a bird's eye view for a moment. The ground is dozens of metres away, completely terraformed with Scar's two hands. It's genuinely incredible what that man manages to do.

And that's not even including the wagons. There were four main wagons all connected together, alongside various standalone buildings off to the sides. Each and every building was full of life and Scar-branded charm.

Scar's building prowess took his breath away on the best of days.

Landing with a thump in the main cart of the Swaggon, Mumbo begins to search for his friend.

"Scar!" He calls, "I'm here!"

There are several crashes and thumps from upstairs, and he's pretty sure that was Jellie that just yowled.

"Be right down!" Then, quieter, "Jellie, c'mon."

Scar climbs down the ladder moments later, Jellie tucked in one arm. He's wearing his leg braces, Mumbo notices, the copper gears whirring and clicking with his movements. Must be a bad pain day.

He doesn't even skip the last few rungs of the ladder like he usually does, instead gently touching down on the deepslate floor before releasing Jellie to greet their guest.

The cat wastes no time in butting her head against Mumbo's leg, making a right nuisance of herself by flitting around his ankles and meowing to be picked up. The moustached man gives in to her complaints quickly, scooping her off the floor and tucking her against his chest. Jellie nuzzles into him and closes her eyes, content. A purr begins to rumble in her chest.

Mumbo returns his gaze to Scar. The other man is staring unabashedly, with what Mumbo could only describe as pure affection in his eyes. Scar must really love Jellie. Which is fair, Mumbo thinks, because he also loves Jellie, and so does everyone else on the server.

"So," Mumbo begins, "I came here to talk to you about something…" Scar seems to shake himself back into awareness.

"Oh, right! So, what'd you wanna talk about?"

Mumbo feels his heart leap into his throat. A sudden feeling of apprehension closes in, gripping his mind like a vice. What if Scar says no? His stomach is in knots. What if he thinks it's a stupid plan? There's a pounding in his head. What if he tells Grian? His knees are weak. Distantly, he hopes he doesn't fall over. Why did Mumbo never come up with a backup plan?! This was going to be a disaster, a total disaster-!

"Mumbo!"

He was pulled out of his frenzied spiral by hands comfortingly gripping his shoulders, Scar's face coming back into focus. He was closer than he was before. When had that happened?

Jellie's eyes were open again, and she was staring at him. She was purring louder than she was before, like she was trying to comfort him, too. He ran a hand through her fur. Content, she laid her head back down. The purrs didn't stop.

Mumbo looks back up. His gaze locks with Scar's.

"You alright there, buddy? You zoned out, looked like you were panicking," Scar says, worry clear in his voice.

"I- uh…" His tongue is lead in his mouth. "I-I'm fine. Thoughts just got… uh, got a little away from me there." He tries a laugh. It comes out painfully forced.

Scar's eyebrows furrow, more than they had been before.

"Let's go up to the Good Vibes room, calm down a bit, okay?" Mumbo nods wordlessly. He follows Scar up the ladder into his bedroom, Jellie still held gently in one arm.

They pass the bed, instead heading for the couch and jukebox tucked into a cosy little nook on the far end of the room.

"Alright, now you are going to sit down and relax, mister," Scar tells him. He herds Mumbo toward the couch and pushes him down on it when he gets close enough. Jellie startles from the semi-rough landing. She hops out of Mumbo's arms, but before he can mourn the loss of the cat, she flops down on the couch next to him, still purring loudly.

Scar smiles warmly at them. He pulls a music disc from his inventory. The ring of colour on the disc is black, so it might be Stal?

Scar puts the disc in the jukebox. They're then met with the sound of haggard breathing and running footsteps for a few seconds before it's abruptly stopped by Scar yanking it out.

It's silent for a moment

"Heh. That was the, uh- wrong disc…"

Scar quickly switches out the slightly worn 11 disc for a less worn, but similarly coloured disc. Instead of the creepy sounds of the last disc, it's the smooth, jazzy sounds of Stal.

Scar dropped down on the couch next to Mumbo, letting out a relaxed sigh.

"So!" Scar chirps happily, "You wanna try asking me whatever it was that you wanted to ask again?"

Mumbo runs a hand through Jellie's fur, the cat letting out a little 'mrmp' as he does so.

He takes a deep breath, and begins to speak.

"I- well, um… how do I put this?" Scar is listening intently, based on the look on his face. Mumbo's face heats up in embarrassment. "I wanted to know if you could possibly pretendtodatemetomakeGrianjealous?"

Scar blinks uncomprehendingly at him.

"You want me to fake date you… to make Grian jealous?" He asks, somewhat incredulous.

Mumbo sputters, "I-! Well, yes- but now that you say it, it is pretty silly, right?" Mumbo laughs, awkward and stilted, "Nevermind, actually, it was dumb anyway- I'm such a spoon- I'll get out of your hair now, sorry for my- well, everything-" He makes to get up, but an hand grabs his upper arm. Mumbo turns his head to see Scar's hand holding him tightly, not allowing him to get up.

"Wait, don't go!"

"I-"

"It's not a dumb idea! I think it's really cute!"

Mumbo looks into Scar's eyes, searching for any sign of deception, but he finds nothing but sincerity shining in his eyes. Mumbo lets himself settle back into the couch. Scar's hand doesn't leave his arm. Instead, it goes from keeping him in place to a comforting weight keeping him grounded.

"If you want me to, I'll fake date you."

"Really? Just like that?" Mumbo asks.

"Just like that!" Scar grins at him.

"Wow… That went better than I expected," Mumbo comments, face heating up in embarrassment. Scar laughs, and the hand that had been resting on his shoulder slides down to his hand, and Scar laces their fingers together.

Mumbo is sure he's redder than a tomato.

Scar opens his mouth to say something when his comm dings. He pulls it from his pocket and turns it on, screen angled so Mumbo couldn't see anything but the glare from the lights.

"Looks like Grian wants to talk with me now," Scar says offhandedly. Mumbo ignores the way his heart rate picks up. "I wonder what he wants."

"Oh, well I shouldn't keep you then," Mumbo says, finally standing from the couch. Scar follows, never releasing his hand.

"Nonsense! Do you want me to walk you to your base?"

"That won't be necessary-"

"Mumbo, I insist."

So Mumbo gets a personal Scar-escort back to his base, hands interlocked and swinging between them as they walk.  And once Mumbo is safely back to the enormous redstone door that opens up to his part of the gigabase, Scar turns to look at him.

"And there you are, how would you rate your Swaggon Taxi™ experience?" Scar asks, customer service voice in full swing. Mumbo laughs.

"Pretty good, I made it across town in one piece, so I'd give it a full ten out of ten."

Scar lets out a victorious little yes that leaves Mumbo chuckling. Scar gives his hand one last squeeze before letting go. He takes off and flies towards Grian's starter base.

Mumbo fights to ignore the heat that has risen in his cheeks.

...

Grian has a plan.

He has been crushing on Mumbo since before he had even been invited to Hermitcraft, and he was tired of this same song and dance every season. He was going to make Mumbo notice him, or die trying.

And Grian's 94% sure he's immortal anyway, so that means there's only one other option.

Grian needed someone to fake date. If he was going to catch Mumbo's notice, it needed to be big. Dating someone was big, especially since he'd shown no romantic interest in anyone - Mumbo aside - since he was in high school.

Now, who to get in on his plot?

It needed to be someone on the server, obviously, and someone near his own age. And they can't be in an actual relationship already; he didn't want to cause problems (that's a lie, he does want to cause problems, just not relationship ones). Ideally, they should live nearby enough to interact with often and be in view of Mumbo.

Cub is always busy with his biome… X isn't interested in anyone romantically, and Grian doesn't want to make them uncomfortable… Grian has sworn off interacting with Doc and Ren after the Goatem pole unless it's for pranking purposes… Scar-

Oh. Scar might work.

Grian grabs his comm and types a message.

<Grian> hey scar

<Grian> come to my starter base

<Grian> i need to talk with you

<GoodTimeWithScar> Believe it or not, you're the second one today!

<GoodTimeWithScar> I'll be there in a bit!

It takes almost twenty minutes for Scar to show up, during which Grian has enough time to tidy up his starter base, make tea for him and Scar, and still have time to spare.

Grian is just about to message Scar again when the man himself divebombs straight through his front door, elytra wings clipping the doorframe ever so slightly.

"OH NO THIS WAS A BAD IDEA-!!" Scar has time to shout before he skids, facefirst, to a stop on Grian's hardwood floor.

"You alright, mate?"

Scar gives him a weak thumbs-up.

Grian laughs at the man's antics. He helps Scar to his feet and brings them over to Grian's dining table. He didn't use the thing often, but it was nice to have.

They both pull up a chair where Grian has set out the tea. Scar drops himself into the chair with a heavy sigh. He grabs his teacup and takes a swig before Grian can warn him about it being hot. He expects Scar to shout about burning his tongue, but apparently he'd taken long enough getting here that the tea had cooled to a drinkable temperature.

Grian takes a sip from his own cup. Sure enough, it's just on the hotter side of lukewarm.

"Alright!" Scar says enthusiastically. He claps his hands together. "What'd ya call me here to ask, G?"

Right, Grian's request. He had almost forgotten.

"Well, Scar, I know how much you love scams-" the avian begins, and is promptly interrupted by Scar.

"Business deals," Scar insists. Grian shakes his head fondly.

"...I know you love business deals, and I'm about to make you the deal of a lifetime!"

Scar perks up, looking interested. "I do love deals… So what is it?"

"Fake date me."

The house goes silent, aside from their breathing. Grian is staring determinedly at Scar's face, trying to judge his reaction. It looks like a mix of shock and humour, usually a good sign when it comes to getting Scar in on plots.

"Why? If you don't mind me asking?" Scar asks, leaning forward in interest.

"Weeell… I've had an eensy-weensy bit of a crush on Mumbo for… gosh, for years now, and I'm tired of him never noticing me! I figure if I date someone else, he'll finally see me," Grian explains, face flushing slightly at his admittance. And also at Scar's proximity; he's leaning in awfully close…

Grian mentally shakes himself. He can't be thinking about Scar like that. Even if he is pretty easy on the eyes… No! He already has a crush on Mumbo, it would be disloyal to think about Scar that way, even if he and Mumbo aren't dating.

Yet, he thinks privately.

Grian wants to kick his legs and giggle like a schoolgirl, but he shakes himself back to reality. Back to his conversation with Scar.

He still needs to get an answer, after all.

"So," Grian asks, putting his conspiratorial voice on, "Fake date me so I can get the guy?"

Scar laughs, bright and cheery.

"I'll fake date you, sure! What're friends for?"

Scar holds out a hand. Grian takes it in his own and gives a firm shake.

"And the deal is made!" Scar says, standing up. Grian stands as well. "This service costs three diamonds per day, by the way."

"Wha- Scar!"

Scar laughs again, and before Grian can react, he's bending down and planting a kiss on his cheek.

Grian's eyes widen as Scar bounds away and shoots off into the sky.

The avian brushes the spot with his fingertips, revelling in the tingly feeling the man's lips had left behind.

...

Scar's trip back to his base is a victorious one.

Seriously, the two guys he was crushing on were also crushing on each other! Scar had hit the jackpot! Like, seriously, what were the chances?

Now all he had to do was get his friends to notice each other's feelings. Scar knows he's one to talk about being oblivious, but these two had been friends since before Grian joined Hermitcraft and neither noticed the other had feelings for them?

Man, these guys are so darn oblivious.

But he just had to give them a nudge them in the right direction. He'd get them to notice eventually, even if it took the end of the world.

And maybe Scar could even sneak his way into their hearts, as well. Scar was a conman, after all. Being sneaky was his specialty.

[anurapoda]

Don't Fly in a Storm, Pesky Bird! (Grian+Scar+Mumbo)

Words: 2 112

I have no memory of writing this. I assume I was on a kick after reading a fic of Grian flying in a storm, but honestly no clue. Unrelated, feel like I got Cleo down to a T on this one, very proud of that.

------------------------------------

Clouds hung heavy across the sky when Grian left his base, lovingly nicknamed Dwyane. Xisuma had said there would be a storm that evening, but it was still midday and he had plans that he needed to have done, storm or no storm.

Shifting the elytra on his back, Grian triple checked the buckles that latched the device onto him before taking off with a whirr from his rockets. Heading towards the desert for some mining, the storm clouds grew.

By the time he had filled six shulkers with sand ready to be dropped off at the entity or turned to concrete, a light rain had begun. The wind wasn’t too bad he reasoned as he placed the shulkers into his inventory and prepared for the trip back to the shopping district. The storm wasn’t due to start for another few hours, a light drizzle wasn’t going to impede his plans for the day.

Taking off into the sky once more he glided gracefully towards the shopping district. He had only been flying for a few brief moments before his communicator lit up with a buzz. Digging it from his inventory and ignoring the ‘no comms while flying’ rule that had been put in place after one too many crash landings, Grian turned to the main chat channel.

Xisumavoid: Winds are starting to pick up, is everyone in a safe place?

The comm buzzed a few more times.

ImpulseSV: Gem is at my base with me

ZombieCleo: Joe and I are ok

Goodtimewithscar: jellie and me are all cozy

Pearlescentmoon: Just heading back from the shopping district now, will be staying with Impulse and Gem

Keralis: I’m home

Geminitay: Hurry pearl the weathers picking up fast

MumboJumbo: I think Grian is still out mining sand

Iskall85: at stress’s with false

Coming to a landing in a nearby tree, Grian wiped droplets of rain off of his comm as more messages rolled in.

Xisumavoid: Are you sure Mumbo? I thought most people would stay close to home today.

Goodtimewithscar: Grian isn’t most people

MumboJumbo: Yeah I’m sure, he left around lunch and I haven’t seen him come back. Is he with anyone else?

A series of “no’s” flooded a chat as Grian typed a short response before shoving the comm back into his inventory. The multiple buzzes that followed promptly ignored. A silly storm would not stop him from stalking his shop, no siree.

Grian: Just heading to the shopping district to drop off my sand and than I’ll head back to Dwyane

MumboJumbo: don’t thunk that’s a good idea bud

Pearlescentmoon: Yeah I had to stop flying near Zeds, the winds near the shopping district are strong

Xisuma: Grian, go home now.

Goodtimewithscar: He’s offline

MumboJumbo: I’m going to get him.

Goodtimewithscar: Coming with you

Zombiecleo: Great idea, now we’ll have three dead hermits instead of one!

Xisumavoid: Don’t risk yourselves to save him, if it looks too bad just go home please.

—-------------------------

Grian was passing over Doc’s perimeter when the wind hit, sending him spiralling for a moment before he was able to regain balance. Checking his elytra to make sure it was still secure he continued.

A little wind wasn’t going to stop him. Grian repeated every time he was knocked off course due to the high winds. One would think he’d clue in that a little bit of wind was going to stop him, or at the very least force him to land, but Grian was stubborn and very dim at times.

The shopping district came into view, at last a sign of refugee from the constant wind. Grian could almost touch the roof of one of the shops when he heard it. A clap of thunder. 

Thunder in of itself was not concerning, however when it’s paired with a seering sting to one's back, a slight loss of conscientiousness, and directly followed by plummeting one may feel a bit worried for their safety. Which is what Grian was currently doing.

He could feel himself following, but between the wind tossing him between trees that only enraged his burnt back more and his eyes lulling shut constantly he couldn’t quite see himself falling. All he could imagine was the ground coming closer and closer, and his body laid out across it in a bath of blood and rainwater. 

As he hit a particularly nasty branch, the dirty blonde finally stopped fighting and allowed his eyes to shut. He was going to die anyway, might as well accept it. He’d respawn in an hour or so with some back pain and probably scars, but that would be ok. The worst of it would come from the other hermits chastising him for being so stupid.

Falling… Falling… Since when has falling taken so long? He hadn’t hit a tree in a while, though the last one had been a lot more gentle so maybe he was on the grass and just hadn’t died? That would be a pain, he’d have to get someone to come help him before the storm killed him.

Prying one eye open to see where he was adjacent to the ground, Grian groaned as he saw a moustached figure holding him. Maybe letting the storm kill him was a good idea, would save a lot of explaining and embarrassment. Maybe Mumbo would drop him into the ocean to speed up the process!

That option went from impossible to double impossible however as the man holding him called out to another.

“Scar, he’s pretty roughed up!”

He let out something akin to a pained hiss when he felt his entire body jolt. Opening his eyes once more he saw that they were now on the ground, with a lot less crashing and dying than he thought there would be for him a few minutes prior. 

“Our bases are too far out.” Scar said as he landed across from the pair. “How about my starter base? I might have supplies.”

“Too many stairs.” Mambo commented, shaking Grian slightly as he shook his head. 

Scar huffed. “What’s your suggestion? Your base?”

Grains allowed his eyes to lull shut as the two bickered, allowing himself to soak in the presence of people. He remembers hearing them mention his base and how they could bring stuff over from theirs, but not much else as the events of the day caught up to him and lulled him to sleep.

—-------------------------

“I can’t believe Cleo thought we’d die while going to get him!” Scar huffed as he dropped off two shulkers of supplies onto the floor of Grians starter base. 

“You did almost die.” Mumbo chuckled, rummaging through a chest in the corner. “Twice.”

“Oh shush.” Scar wheeled his chair over to the chest Mumbo was searching through and hummed. “No luck on bandages?”

“Nah.” The moustached man grunted as he straightened his back, damn Grian and being so short. “Anything at yours?”

“Food, mostly cookies.” Scar mused. “Oh, and a gapple - not that it’s much help when he’s passed out.”

The two men glanced at the crumpled form on the bed in the far corner. When they had arrived they had done their best to remove the burned elytra and change Grians clothes, though without proper bandages or medical supplies the purple and blue of his back was there to stay.

Not even mentioning the blood, which poured out faster than the two could replace the shirts they were using as bandages. They had requested help, though with the storm as bad as it was it wasn’t safe for anyone to come to their aid. They were stuck there with an injured Grian and no way to help.

“Coffee?” Scar asked, already wheeling over to the kitchen.

“I need something stronger than coffee.” Mambo murmured, grabbing another shirt from the closet to reapply to Grians wounds.

“Don’t think it’s a good idea to get drunk, won’t be able to take care of him.” The brunette replied as he filled the kettle. “I can pop some espresso in it?”

“Please do.” 

The two men fell into a steady rhythm of work. Mumbo reapplying the shirt bandages as needed, while Scar kept Grian comfortable. A job that became increasingly difficult when the injured man gained consciousness at some point throughout the evening and began screaming bloody murder.

However tiring it became though they managed. By the time the winds died down enough for Stress and Doc to come by and properly treat the injured man Mumbo and Scar were exhausted. They had insisted they stay with their friend while he was being treated, but were quickly shooed to Scars tree by an annoyed Stress.

“You luvs won’t be of any help to no one in this state.” She had insisted as they were herded towards the door. Though the two men agreed it didn’t hurt any less to be separated from their friend so clearly in pain.

“I should check on Jellie.” Scar mumbled as he staggered into his starter base, flopping on the nearest shulker with a groan.

Mambo chuckled lazily at that. “Think Stress would have both our heads if you did that, mate.”

“But Mumbo!” Scar whined, dragging out his friend's name. “She hates storms and I left her all alone during one of the worst!”

“You’d crash before you make it to Zeds.” The moustache man reasoned as he began making his way towards the bedroom. “Get Pearl and Impulse to check on her, she likes them.”

Scar mumbled something in protest but ultimately pulled out his comm. Typing a quick message to the soup group he waited for a response before shoving it back into his pocket and following Mumbo upstairs. 

“They’re gonna check on her?” Mumbo asked as they reached the bedroom. Why a man in a wheelchair put his bedroom at the top of a massive ramp was a mystery.

“Yeah,” Scar wheeled himself over to the bed and gestured for the other man to help him. “They said they planned on checking in anyway.”

Humming in response, Mumbo lifted Scar from his chair and onto his bed before flopping in beside him. “Great, so can we sleep now?”

Giving a nod, Scar adjusted himself so he was snuggled into his friend's chest. The two lay in silence for a few moments before the soft sounds of snoring could be heard from the brunette, and not long after Mumbos snoring joined in.

—-------------------------

They were awoken by Doc around sunset and told that Grian was awake and well, save for a bit of scarring on his back. The two rushed to see him, Scar momentarily forgetting that walking is difficult and falling flat on his face as he attempted to run. 

After situating Scar into his chair, the two men alongside Doc made their way to Grians starter base. The man was sitting up with a pained expression as he spoke to Stress who sat at the foot of the bed. 

“Grian!” Mumbo exclaimed as he ran to give the man a hug, immediately releasing him when he let out a pained hiss. “Sorry mate. Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Grian murmured “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?” Scar asked, wheeling over to clasp one of the man's hands with his own.

“Yeah Grian, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Mumbo said, shooting a glare at Doc when the man scoffed.

“I should’ve gone home the moment the wind started picking up.” Grian said with a sigh. “If I had then none of you would have had to have taken care of me.”

“Now luv,” Stress tsked with a gentle nudge to Grians leg. “None of us mind taking care of ya.”

“She’s right.” Mumbo agreed. “No matter how stupid you’re being, if you get injured we’re more than happy to help.”

“But maybe be a little less stupid next time.” Doc chimed in.

Mumbo shot a glare at the man while Grian just chuckled, which wasn’t a great idea as the act sent pain shooting through his spine which caused him to yelp in pain. All four Hermits around him immediately turned to him with offers of assistance which he turned down.

“Thank you guys. It means a lot.” He murmured with a soft smile. “Next time a storm comes I’ll stay inside.”

The five Hermits stayed at Grians overnight, assisting the man as needed. By morning all traces of the storm had vanished, so they split ways with promises of visiting Grian to check on his injuries. 

When Scar returned home shortly after breakfast he was greeted by a very annoyed Jellie dressed as King Rentheking, as well as a giggling soup group.

[ironstakes]

My plot plans and ideas for You Can’t Take it Back. Spoilers, much spoilers!

Topic: hermits, clans and Konoha

Someone, a wonderful person, in the comments mentioned clans searching for their lost members. 

I love that remark and I actually have something planned around that from when I was plot sketching and so I’m happy people are already thinking in that direction! The idea came to me from canon and fanon and the countless fics I’ve read over the years, but in general people seem to accept that Danzo took more than a few clan kids. I wanted Kakashi, who was in Root in the anime (but not the manga if I recall correctly) to start looking into missing persons in the village after he meets Mumbo properly and then accidentally uncover missing children in connection to Root. This will obviously spiral into politics BUT I’m liking this idea for a few reasons.

I have a “Hatake revival” planned and blaming Danzo for the hermits popping out of the woodwork would be funny

It can be a great way for Kakashi to explain the variety of the hermits and I’m sure he’ll bullshit a reason as to why they aren’t trained

Blaming Danzo also has the benefit of giving me more wiggle room with Sasuke and more opportunities for his relationship with Naruro, and even with Kakashi. After all, they all are the last of their clans with newly discovered relatives. 

This will let me add Tenzo and Sai in earlier than canon and that will be fun. Ren and Tenzo will be chill but if you stir in Tsunade’s waffling abt becoming hokage and some clan politics… yum

Danzo has canonically worked with Orochimaru for the Senju cell implants and stuff, so this will only increase Kakashi’s paranoia towards Xisuma and co. and we love good old assumptions causing misinformation

Danzo’s fusion goals and success are a great way for Kakashi to connect Xisuma’s (apparent) second in commands, Cleo and Jevin, to body fusion. I want Kakashi to come to the erroneous conclusion that X’s been collecting the hermits to take pieces of each of them to create the perfect body and that will add an entirely new level of horror and high stakes to the situation

The above will also make Sakumo seem even more evil and cause Kakashi more emotional problems, which I want

I hope to get more input and inspiration from people and discussions, other fanfictions, art, shower thoughts, etc. and I continuously tweak ideas until they are posted but these are the current ideas I’ve worked out. 

Notes for the numbers

1- I’ll make a separate post for the Hatake revival idea 

4- the senju clan politics problem is still very rough and I might not do it at all, I’m still workshopping and brainstorming for that and have not decided on which direction to go

6- Cleo and Jevin seem like second in commands bc they are players so they can do stuff that the naturalized hermits cannot, plus the naruralized hermits are in hardcore mode while Cleo, Jevin, and Xisuma are in regular hard mode. This means that Cleo and Jevin will tell the others to back up and let them handle the deadly/dangerous stuff and after Moon Big and emotional problems, the others are inclined to listen hence the appearance of a chain of command. Will also be a seperate post, will be moon big part 2 as they are connected

7- Sakumo isn’t evil, he made the best choice he could have with the information he had that Kakashi hasn’t come across yet. Sakumo’s reasoning ties in heavily with the Xisuma and explaining Kaguya stuff I’ve got going on, will also be a separate post for people who want spoilers 

[tiredfoxtf]

super intrigued by the star rail life series path assignments, would you be willing to share?

I'm glad you asked because I don't think anyone else would.

I mean Star Rail has already provided to us what people who follow certain paths are like. All you gotta do is reverse-engineer them. Destruction -Bdubs, Lizzie, Scar, Tango Bdubs is the reckless person, very self-confident and tends to not think how his actions will affect others, even if they are his own teammates. Scar is in a kind of similar position, the main difference is in volume. Tango is here because of his rage and overall impulsive nature, that usually blow up in his face in destructive manner. Lizzie is here because although she does not outright display her anger and she is not particularly reckless, but she is very self-destructive and spirals easily. Hunt -Joel, Gem, Pearl. Joel is known for his killing sprees once he goes mad, especially during Last Life, he is determined to finish what he started, continuously hunting Scott, for example. Gem is a lot similar to Joel in that sense, she is not exactly holding grudges, but she has the right persistence, when she has a goal, she goes for it. Pearl is more similar to Joel than to Gem, she Does holds grudges and WILL ruthlessly hunt down people who stood on her wrong side. Erudition -Scott, Grian This can be argued easily, but allow me to explain. Grian started playing monopoly from the start, he makes his deals carefully, he does not like to act on a whim, leaning towards plans and schemes. Prefers to hold his cards to his chest. He did find Scar a hindrance in double life, but he acted strategically - to keep him close, so he can keep an eye on their health. He IS chaotic, but it does not mean he isn't logical and strategic (usually the problem is his two braincells that communicate poorly). Scott can SEEM like Abundance character and I can respect that, he sacrifices himself a lot. HOWEVER, he doesn't do it because he is just virtues like that, no, it's a high level social strategy play. That allows him to keep his allies until the end, it allows him to fly under the radar to make consistently into top 4. He is not making enemies and sacrifices his lives for a long run of survival. Harmony -Jimmy, Ren Pretty easy in my opinion. Both Jimmy and Ren, albeit in different ways always powerhouses when it comes to supporting and motivating their allies. They always have the strongest bonds on the servers (except Last Life when Jimmy got outcast-ed and was a sopping wet canary, and even after that Mumbo after becoming red hang around with him). Mostly because they are as loyal as it goes, commiting themselves to the people around them. Nihility -Etho, Mumbo, Martyn I mean. You know how Etho is, he is always sounds so tired with life, his favourite past time in the series are always has been going around doing stupid shit that doesn't have any meaning. Especially this is noticeable in Last Life, when he have been doing a lot of unprompted stuff. Mumbo is here mostly because of his tendencies to go around being absolutely clueless with scattered mind. Martyn is here for the shenanigans like Etho. Can be argued that he is more fit for destruction, but I just don't see it. Preservation -Impulse, BigB, Cleo They are not exactly my most watched povs, but from what I can gather all of them are mostly calm and patient, waiting on their queue. They posses the ability to sacrifice themselves for the benefit of their teammates (Cleo is much less willing, but she can if she thinks it's worth it (it just rarely does)). And boy they are defensive, they put up walls metaphorically and literally around themselves and/or their teammates, tend to even isolate themselves for protection. Abundance -Skizz I MEAN. Have you seen this man. He gives all of himself to his teammates and just whatever cause he thinks is right. Like the Heart foundation, when he was with TIES and decided to rival with Bad Boys because "they are bad and we gotta restore the justice". He gives away his life to his teammates. Again, Limited Life when he gave away his final hour to Etho because he knew he was done for and he wanted them to go further.

[logosbot-tm-fics]

* slams pot lids together *

NEW CHAPTER FUCKERS

Tw!!! This chapter includes someone using alcohol as a coping mechanism and a panic attack.

The panic attack starts at "Ariana flinched" and ends with "They seemed to be talking to her..."(Them being Iskall.

Hope you enjoy!!!

Take My Tea With Formaldehyde

[Start] [<Previous] [Next>]

Chapter 10: But The Show Must Go On

(More beneath the cut)

Grian was getting worse again.

His well-being had been snowballing rapidly, spiralling downhill at a pace that Mumbo didn’t know was even possible.

It was hard to watch, somehow harder than everything else that has come beforehand, and Mumbo couldn’t help but think that every time he sees Grian, it felt like watching a car crash. 

Or a storm swell. 

Or a building fall apart piece by piece. 

As if there were mountains of debris raining down around him every moment that they spent in each other’s company. 

Grian would show up late – and sure, that wasn’t new. That was something that had happened before, over and over again, but… back then that would be all there was to it. He would just show up late, despaired and crying, and Mumbo would try to comfort him. 

This time, though, this time was different. Now, he would show up smelling like alcohol and cigarettes. Now, he would show up smelling like guilt. 

It was probably the same guilt that Mumbo felt. 

He would show up at Mumbo's apartment in the middle of the night, staggering clumsily into the living room, each time collapsing prone on the couch. The days that he showed up were more random than ever – sometimes there would be days between his sudden appearances, and sometimes it would be a week or two. 

Sometimes, it had been so long without seeing him that Mumbo had begun to think – hope, maybe – that it had finally stopped. 

It never did.

Mumbo would slowly pull himself out of bed whenever Grian showed up, exhaustedly making his way to the living room and draping a blanket over him. Before, the blanket had been one of the pretty throws decorating Mumbo’s bedroom, but now, with Grian showing up so frequently and randomly, it had begun to remain permanently in the living room now. 

(There was some small part of Mumbo which was bitter about that fact; that he was sacrificing something for Grian once again.)

No matter when Grian showed up, no matter what state he was in, Mumbo would try his best to help. Sometimes, he would succeed in getting Grian to sleep in the bed instead, giving up his own space and sleeping on the couch. 

Grian would usually look as if he felt better in the morning when he slept there. 

Almost every time, Grian would fall asleep with his clothes on. Mumbo would carefully remove his jacket, his earrings, anything that might make him uncomfortable or wake him up. He did his best to be cautious, to move slowly and avoid disturbing the sleeping man.

He felt guilty each time either way. 

In the morning, he'd see Grian stumble towards the bathroom, his eyes squinting against the bright sunlight. He would watch from a distance as Grian washed off his makeup, sometimes ruined by dirt or glitter. Always ruined by streaks of tears.  

There were times when Mumbo managed to get Grian to change into softer clothes, coaxing him into a t-shirt and sweatpants like a frightened, feral animal. Those times, Mumbo would be able to wash off Grian's makeup too, using a feather-light touch to wipe away layers of mascara and foundation and all sorts of other things that he didn’t even know the names of. He would be careful, delicate, trying his best to avoid accidentally hurting Grian. 

(Again.)

Grian would always try to reject Mumbo’s help, pushing him away weakly until he couldn’t anymore, until Mumbo’s perseverance got him to just give up, silently accepting the help. 

And Mumbo just… he hated it.

He hated watching Grian struggle. He hated seeing him so weak and helpless. He hated the alcohol, the cigarettes, the guilt. He hated how commonplace it all had become. 

As if Grian showing up drunk on his doorstep was normal. As if spending all of those nights caring for him was okay. 

Somehow, the mornings after were always worse than the nights. 

He'd often find Grian sitting at the kitchen table in the chair that he always used, his hands curled tightly around a cold cup of tea. He would be staring ahead blankly, gaze distant and clouded, the twisted expression on his face looking as though he had just found out someone had passed. As if he was being punished for existing. 

Grian's hair never looked as soft anymore, the bags beneath his eyes seemed permanent, and he’d just spend hours staring vacantly into the tea that must have been poured ages ago, like he was begging it to help him. 

Like he was hoping that it could change things. 

He always looked like a wreck. 

Mumbo would join him, silently sitting down at the other end of the table with his own cup of tea – one much warmer and fresher than Grian’s own. Conversation between them was non-existent. 

They were either too afraid to speak, or they didn't know how to anymore. 

Mumbo didn't know which one he would rather want it to be. 

Some part of him knew that taking down the posters in his bedroom would probably make things slightly better, but… he just couldn't get himself to do that. They were one of the few things that could make him happy at the moment, so he pretended to ignore that fact. He just couldn’t take them down, not even for Grian’s sake.

Distantly, he wished that Grian would ask him to take them down. He didn’t know if he would, in all honesty, but at least it might get them to talk.

He- he should really stop hoping for that. For things to get better. It was pointless, he should know that by now. Nothing ever seemed to get better, it felt like they were trapped, like they didn't know how to break out of the cycle they were in.

Mumbo so desperately wanted to travel back in time. Back to before they’d made the mistakes that they had, back to those days when they were happy. When there were no awkward silences, no drunk Grian to take care off, and no guilt reminding them of what they did. To when they would just hang out and just watch stupid shit on the TV. 

It felt like he was trapped in a never-ending nightmare. He felt like he was drowning. 

He wished that it would just end. 

But it didn't. 

And frankly, Mumbo was getting tired.

~

Iskall ended up coming over a few days later. 

Mumbo was a bit surprised to see them, they usually inform Mumbo that they're on their way but– 

This time they just showed up. He wasn’t expecting them, he hadn’t had a clue who was knocking on the door until he opened it. 

"Oh!" Mumbo said when he saw who it was, "Uh- hi?" 

Iskall seemed a bit awkward, something which was weirdly unfamiliar. "Hi," they replied, and Mumbo decided that awkwardness didn’t suit them.

He opened his mouth to ask why they were there, but Iskall continued before he could. "Look…I'm really sorry for the way I behaved," they started, "I was just so worried about Grian, but… I realise that's no excuse for my behaviour towards you." 

Mumbo’s eyes widened minutely, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. What?

"It's– it’s okay, uh… I–" Mumbo stuttered, trying to figure out how to respond, how to accept the apology. 

Iskall, however, shook their head. 

"I don't think it is, Mumbo. I should've heard you out before getting pissed off," they replied, their tone earnest. "That's why I want to give you this–" they pulled out something from their coat pocket, a crumpled white envelope with nothing written on the front. "–as an apology," they conclude.

They handed the letter over insistently, pushing it into Mumbo’s grip. Mumbo stared down at it for a long moment, confused. What is..?

"Open it, and you'll find out," Iskall said, as if they could read Mumbo's mind, a small smile forming on their lips. They had their hands in their pockets, looking significantly less awkward now that the envelope had been handed over. 

Mumbo nodded in response, trying to open the letter there, but his fingers shook with badly-suppressed nerves, so he paused after a moment. He looked up at Iskall and stepped to the side, vaguely gesturing for Iskall to step inside, before walking away to the bedroom to get a letter opener. He heard Iskall close the door behind them. 

It took him a second to remember where he put his letter opener, but when he did, he went quickly to open the letter. The noise of the blade slicing through the envelope was almost deafening, like the entire world was holding its breath as the contents of the letter were revealed. 

It felt like a kick in the stomach when he sees what’s inside. It almost felt like a joke. 

There, innocently sat in the confines of the pure white envelope, was a ticket. 

More specifically, a pink, glittery ticket to one of Ariana’s shows. He looked at the date printed on it, and it’s only two days away.

Mumbo couldn’t believe his eyes. He wondered if he was dreaming, gaze scanning the decorative paper over and over again, but no. That was a ticket. It was real. Nothing changed as he stared at it. It said the same thing. 

God– it must've been next to impossible to get it.

Mumbo didn’t even notice that Iskall had walked into his bedroom, not until they spoke. 

"You're welcome," they drawled from where they were leaning against the doorframe, a pleased smile on their lips. "I figured that it was the best way to apologise for what I said."

Mumbo stared at them in disbelief, "You– you didn't have to, dude. I've already forgiven you." 

Iskall shrugged, waving their hand in the air like it was no big deal, "And I wanted to apologise properly."

"This must've been incredibly difficult to get, even though you’re her manager. How did–" 

"Mumbo," Iskall cut him off firmly, levelling him with an even look. "Don't worry about it, really." 

Mumbo stopped talking and looked down at the ticket again. 

"I…" He ran his thumb along the edge of it, still trying to comprehend that it's real. "Thank you."

Iskall smiled, tilting their head ever so slightly to the side. Their smile was wide and knowing, stretched languidly across their lips, but it just… didn't quite reach their eyes. Mumbo tried to ignore the voice in his head screaming that they never look as happy as they used to anymore. 

"Of course," they said, as if they'd keep giving Mumbo tickets as apologies. 

Maybe they would if they could, and a part of Mumbo briefly wonders if he'd forgive them each time. 

"Of course," they repeated, their hands going back into their coat pockets. "I'd–"

This time it's Mumbo's turn to cut Iskall off, striding forward easily to pull them into a hug. It felt familiar. The whole situation felt very, very familiar. 

"You really didn't have to, I still want you to know that," he mumbled into their hair. "But I appreciate it, thank you."

Iskall inhaled, as if they're about to speak again, but doesn't. Instead they just hugged Mumbo back, wrapping their arms tightly around his waist, and for a second everything felt okay. 

It really is too bad that they can’t stay that way forever.

It really is too bad. 

~

Mumbo didn’t feel as excited as he usually did before a concert. 

Everything felt so rushed, the two days before the show a distracted blur that he simply couldn’t keep track of. He just didn’t have the time to get excited as he usually would, but still – it felt like a welcome distraction.

It’s strange, when he actually stopped to consider it. He felt like he needed this, like this break from the real world was going to stop everything from boiling over, somehow. Everything was so much, so exhausting and overwhelming, and he just– he needed some time away from it all. He needed some time to focus on something, anything, but Grian.

The show was going well, with an impressive entrance, never-before seen costumes and brand new choreography – it was running smoothly and impressively, like always. Everything on the stage was impressive, but… Ariana seemed a little tired. It was like her usual pep toned down to account for the lethargy with which she was moving, bags still visible under her eyes despite the caked-on makeup and Mumbo’s own distance from the stage.

She still managed to keep that famous smile on her face, singing beautifully and dancing along in the fun, upbeat style that her shows were known for, and the crowd seemed to be having a good time! Mumbo was having fun as well, swaying to the music as bodies danced around him in the standing-room, and he found himself almost forgetting what he’s been so worried about. 

Almost. The bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach continued to linger.

Then things started to go downhill. 

The shift was slow at first, Ariana beginning to make minor mistakes as the music progressed. They were only small stumbles, instances that would be totally fine if it was just one or two missed beats, three or four missed steps. 

It started with her messing up a note, her voice breaking halfway through, turning pitchy and off-key. It wasn’t a big deal, not at all – these things happen after all, that’s just show business – but it seemed to make her mood shift nonetheless. 

She tripped over her own feet slightly, stumbling in her tall platform heels in a way that is starkly uncharacteristic, but she seemed to recover quickly, trying her best to cover it up.

Then she messed up another note. She seemed self conscious, the colour draining from her skin and her grip tightening on the microphone. Little by little, people started to notice, and then they started to whisper. 

"Is she alright?" someone said. 

"Something seems wrong?" another person asked. 

"I wonder if it might have to do with what happened to her hands…" a third speculated, sounding a lot more curious than the other two, who had just seemed worried. 

Ariana looked so… wrong, up there on the stage. As if she wasn't meant to be there. Something about her made Mumbo think of a deer in the headlights, something about the way that her legs shook, her free hand falling limp at her side. She looked almost paralysed. 

It also made him think of Grian. He shook his head, trying to dispel the idea. 

There was no point in thinking about Grian now. 

Mumbo watched, aghast, as Ariana looked down at the ground, seemingly trying to collect herself in the middle of a slow song. Honestly, it just looked as if she didn't want to be there at all. 

Mumbo could just about make out that she was mumbling something to herself. It looked paced, practised. Maybe she was counting. Maybe she was trying to use that ever-familiar counting technique to calm anxiety. 

With the way that her lips trembled, Mumbo was almost certain that was the case.

She breathed evenly during an instrumental pause, counting and tapping her long nails against her thigh, clearly desperate in her attempts to calm down. Despite her attempts, Mumbo stared in horror as tears slowly started to roll down her cheeks. 

She looked up at the crowd as a part of the song where she was supposed to be singing began again, just smiling blankly as everything slowed down. Mumbo felt as though he was in a freeze-frame, the crowd slowed in their dancing, it was as though the entire world held its breath.

No one dared to move. Everyone waited for whatever would come next. 

Just as quickly as the smile appeared on her lips, clearly forced as she tried to dry her tears, it vanished. 

Ariana was staring in Mumbo’s direction. It was as though she was– like she was starting directly into him. Into his eyes. Into his soul. 

Maybe she wasn’t, maybe that was his fanboy brain taking over, but– 

But Mumbo is almost certain that they were staring at each other, and that their eye contact was somehow responsible for what happened next.

Ariana flinched.

It was barely noticeable if you weren't looking for it, but all eyes were on her, and so Mumbo knows that everyone saw it. 

Her eyes started to scan the crowd, as if she was trying to find something, or someone. As if  she was checking that her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

The music continued to play in the background. The words continued to go unsung.

She backed away from the microphone stand with a dizzying stumble, everyone in the crowd watching as it fell to the ground with a clang. She backed up until she was walking into one of her dancers, the pair reeling for a second before they managed to stand her upright. The dancer looked at Ariana with great concern, their mouth opening to say something that no one else could hear. 

It hardly mattered, as Ariana ripped herself out of their grip in an instant, staggering away from them.

She was hyperventilating, her chest heaving under the heavy, decorative garb that she was dressed in, and the noise of her rattling breaths echoed ruthlessly through the microphone taped to her cheek. She sunk to the ground, shoulders shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself, sharp acrylic nails digging into her skin. 

She looked so small. 

Too small for the big stage and the flashing lights. Too small for the crowd. For the clamouring masses of adoring fans, the faceless faces screaming for her to perform. For the show to go on. 

She looked unfamiliar in the vastness of the stage, of the crowd, of the glittering costumes and hired dancers. Of the thousands of people there for her.

She looked like a child. 

A child who had been dragged onto that godforsaken stage, who had a microphone thrust into their hands and a song plastered to their shoulder.

A child who just wanted to find their mom. To find someone to comfort them. To just go home. 

Suddenly, Iskall was on the stage, sprinting over to her with a pace that Mumbo had never seen them take before. The dancers glanced around worriedly as Iskall said something in a too-loud whisper about getting tech to turn off her microphone. One of the dancers rushed off stage, following the instruction.

The crowd watched with rapt fascination as Iskall took off their jacket, and Mumbo watched with horror as they wrapped it around Ariana’s shoulders. They knelt in front of her, broad form purposefully transformed into a shield as they stayed with their back firmly towards the audience. Mumbo couldn’t see her face anymore, couldn’t see the way that she choked on every inhale, couldn't see the tears as they spilled down her cheeks and ruined her makeup. 

They seemed to be talking to her, the face-mic seeming to have finally been turned off, and Mumbo could just about make out the way that Ariana nodded. The remaining dancers seemed to want to help, but Iskall gestured sternly at them to leave, commanding the situation flawlessly.

 

Iskall sat with Ariana until a security guard was jogging onto the stage, moving towards the apron of the stage and telling people to remain calm whilst the situation was being taken care of. 

The crowd doesn’t seem pleased.

Soon, Ariana was being led off stage by Iskall, a comforting hand pressing into the small of her back and guiding her towards the wings. The stage was still for a long moment, before Iskall returned. 

"We’re sorry to inform you–" Iskall said, holding their hand against their ear as they spoke to the audience. They didn’t seem to enjoy being on the stage. Far from it, in fact. "–that we will unfortunately be cancelling tonight’s show."

And then there was uproar. There were yells and screams, some demanding their money back, others insulting the management, or even Ariana herself.

"They can’t be serious… that’s so unfair," someone behind Mumbo said, their tone bitter. "We paid for a show, we should get one. They can't just– just cancel in the middle of it."

Mumbo heard a few mutters of agreement below the outraged screams from all around him. He felt sick. 

Iskall continued to speak, despite the yelling. "Ariana isn’t fit for performance currently, but we assure you all that we will sort everything out and look into refunds or replacement tickets. We’re very sorry.” Their tone is placating, but Mumbo knows them far too well to mistake it as regret.

Mumbo knows, even if the rest of the crowd doesn’t, that they’re rattling off a spiel which sounded as though it was company-approved. Their words were quick and hurried, impersonal despite being soothing, and Mumbo knew that they were mostly worried for Ariana, itching to get off the stage to check on her.

They cleared their throat awkwardly, and nodded. It only took a few seconds longer and they were gone, walking hastily off the stage.

The crowd around Mumbo began to surge forwards, pushing and shouting as more security ran out to the front, trying to hold everyone back. He barely tried to fight the shoving, simply moving numbly with the crowd as they began to be filtered out of the auditorium, trying desperately to understand why it happened. 

Somehow, it felt like it was his fault.

Eventually, Mumbo reached the doors of the venue, caught up in the stream of people. There were so many voices around him, swathes of angry mutters and displeased insults, paired with the occasional word of concern.

A few people seemed worried, and it calmed the nausea in his stomach just a little. They whispered about how hope that Ariana will be okay, how they hope that she’ll be taken care of. 

Those are the few people that left without any complaints. Those are the small groups that seemed to actually care for Ariana’s wellbeing. 

He was so glad that some of them cared. He cared too.

At that moment, he wanted more than anything else for Ariana to be okay.

He, like those few others, was so worried. He was so confused. And, unlike those caring few, he was so guilty. 

He left the venue certain of just one thing: Ariana had broken down because she had looked Mumbo in the eyes. 

~

If things were different, Mumbo would've spent a lot more time thinking about the show. He would’ve wondered what happened to those who attended, to those who paid for their seats. He would've tried his best to find out if Ariana was okay. He would've sent messages to Iskall, asking if she was doing any better. 

But he didn’t.  

In fact, his mind was so preoccupied that he almost forgot about it. He can remember what happened, sure, and he still wants to know if it actually did have something to do with him, but– 

The whole event was pushed quickly into the back of his mind. 

He was far more worried about Grian.

He’s begun to show up even later than before, always appearing like a ghost, without a single word of warning. At first, it was around midnight – a little late, but something Mumbo could work with, nonetheless. 

But then he began to show up at 3am. And then at 4am. And then at 5am– on a day that he knew Mumbo would be waking up for work only one hour later.

It was confounding, heart-wrenching, to watch as Grian actively tried to destroy himself. Mumbo couldn’t stand it– he couldn’t stand the tension, the uncertainty, the not knowing what’s going on with his own best friend. 

It was as though he was driving himself insane, with the way that he was constantly begging for answers and digging his claws into any of the meagre, pathetic scraps that were tossed his way. It was as though he was a stray animal, constantly returning to the hand that starves, but doesn’t kill. 

Coming back because he knew that there would be something for him there, even if it was barely anything at all. 

Coming back because seeing Grian’s tired, blank face was better than nothing.

They didn’t speak much anymore. 

Sure, there were still times when they did eat dinner together, or times when Grian seemed to be feeling okayish and they could watch a movie or something, but…

They would never talk.

Never. 

Not even about the most mundane things – they would just sit in silence, as if that somehow meant that everything between them, everything that had happened over these long few months was just fine. As if that somehow could replace the conversations they used to have.

Each time they sat at the table, Mumbo felt like screaming.  

Each time Grian showed up late, Mumbo wished that he could get Grian to understand, make Grian see that he had to at least try. 

Each time he woke up to see Grian in his apartment, he wished that he could just turn back time. 

The desperation felt as if it was gnawing on his bones.

Mumbo was so tired of it all, he was so tired of the fact that this wasn’t the first time they'd been there. He was so, so tired, and he needed desperately for something to change.

He had realised something, as he let quiet nights suffocate him, as he let Grian in through the front door over and over again. 

Mumbo had realised something.

He knew that there was only one way to change the way things had become. To get out of the situation they're in. 

They had to talk about what they did. 

They had to talk about how Grian needs help, how Grian needed to realise that he needs help. 

The conversation could go two ways, realistically: it could make things better, or it could make things worse. There was no in between, no room to move – of that, Mumbo was certain. 

Grian might listen to Mumbo, or he might not. 

Mumbo knew that they had to have the conversation, not just for Grian's sake, but for his own as well, and he felt terrified.  

He didn’t want to lose Grian, but he couldn’t keep doing this. 

This wasn’t healthy. Not for him, not for Grian. 

He didn’t want to have the conversation. 

He really didn’t. 

But then he heard someone opening the door, and he realised that he had to. Before it was too late.

Maybe it already was.

[theminecraftbee]

The thing is: knowing that rescue is possible, suddenly, makes everything much more real to Pearl in ways she's not quite sure how to quantify.

They've cleaned up as best they can. Wearing the suit's helmet again feels strange. Hers was the first anyone pointed out cracks on, and they take up most of the visor now. If she actually saw with her eyes these days, it would probably be hard to see through. She's picked up the pieces of Pancake's shell and split who was carrying them between her and Grian. The dragon has latched onto Pearl's shoulders. The whole space looks so empty and tiny, she thinks, for something that's infinite.

The thing is: knowing that rescue is possible feels strange to Pearl. She'd pretty well decided she accepted where she was, or at least, did enough to work with it. Not much of another choice, she thought, but to accept her lot in life, or un-life. But to acknowledge what she was. She wasn't afraid of what she was, but...

Rescue is possible. Is it possible? Someone was here. Grian's still shell-shocked, and has been for however long it's been, and maybe Pearl's shell-shocked, too. Maybe they all are. They haven't talked much. They've just cleaned, by some silent agreement, and prepared, not that any of them know how to prepare. The games are gone. They don't know how long it will be. They don't know if he'll come back. They don't know if anyone will be coming back, after that. But it's possible, in a way it hadn't been before.

If no one comes, thinks Pearl, and, to be honest, she wouldn't be surprised if no one did - Iskall had. Well. After that, it would be reasonable for them to have assumed only monsters remained, and while Pearl personally thinks that she's at least still Pearl, there is a reasonable difference between the Pearl that they would care about, and the Pearl she is. Pearl, before, was not a piece of the void. So, there's that.

Still. They're all just waiting. She thinks that maybe the others are afraid to say anything. Just in case they're actually being rescued. Just in case they get to go home. Just in case saying the words jinxes it.

She'd judge, but she can't bring herself to say anything, either. She just holds onto Pancake, and she watches the others, and she tries not to hope too much.

She has no idea how much time passes like this. She hasn't known how much time has passed for, well, three months apparently, though. None of them have. It shouldn't feel like it aches, not knowing how much time is passing.

They probably won't come back, Pearl decides. It would be the smart decision. It... hurts, though. She doesn't want to be the one to say it. She doesn't mind saying things that upset other people sometimes, but the silence right now, it's not something she thinks she can break. Not with news like that. If nothing else, Grian will yell at her again. Likely Mumbo and Scar would get upset as well. Impulse might agree with her, but Impulse had insisted everyone was dead, which is a level of pessimism that Pearl hadn't been on, so. She's not sure with that.

It's probably better to wait. She has to say something eventually. No one else will. Everyone else will keep on waiting, and hoping, and she doesn't want to do that to them. She should resign herself, then explain to the others why she has. She should.

She's about to do just that when she hears a strange popping sound, looks up, and sees what seems to be a surprisingly functional toy rocket ship awkwardly spiraling towards them.

"Cub!" says Scar, sounding like he might cry. "I know that design. I helped him make it, you know. That's how I know it's an effective, perfect design. It has a compartment for carrying secret messages, we made it for the Concorp weapons division."

"Why does it look like an action figure?" Grian asks.

"...I had a little too much fun designing it. Plus, it's innocuous! Way harder to spot than a Concorp drone, if... not particularly practical inside of an atmosphere."

"Why did you make something during Season 6 that doesn't work in an atmosphere? You never actually built your moon base!"

"Listen. Grian. I know that Sahara didn't have the kind of cash to relate to this, but we had more time and money for R&D than we knew what to do with. Of course we did personal projects!"

"Okay, rude," cuts in Mumbo. Scar laughs. None of this conversation means anything to Pearl, but it makes something hard and strange ache in Pearl's heart.

"Oh, you're right, you're right. I shouldn't be rude to people about things they can't help! People can't help their business acumen."

"That's ruder?"

Pearl stares at the little blue-and-white toy rocket as Scar grabs it with limbs he's not supposed to have, cradling it close to his chest like it will become a part of him, but not destroying it. He's so careful not to destroy it.

The color looks wrong, Pearl thinks. Not in any material way. Not wrong like Pancake's eyes, or the shade of Grian's wings, or trying to look for too long at any of their faces. Wrong in a different way. Bright, and kind, in a place it doesn't belong after what had just happened.

Scar opens it. There's a letter, blank paper, and a pen inside.

"It's a note. Uh, it's from Cub."

"His handwriting is awful," says Impulse, leaning over Scar's shoulder.

"I know. I can't read it," Scar says.

"Okay, how did you two take over the server like, twice?" Impulse asks. Scar opens his mouth. "Actually? I don't want to know," Impulse says. Scar closes his mouth.

"I can figure it out," Pearl finds herself saying. "I had to read some of his handwriting when we made that passage from his canyon into my base, and I'm normally pretty good at deciphering bad handwriting."

"Read away!" Scar says. He holds onto the rocket, but he hands Pearl the letter. Scar's right; the handwriting is atrocious. Pearl wasn't around when apparently Scar and Cub had taken over the server (and that's a story she wants to hear now), but between Scar's complete lack of ability to spell and Cub's apparent complete lack of anything resembling neat handwriting, she has some questions about how the two of them manage to communicate as best friends. It takes her longer than she'd like to sort out what the note says. It takes her longer than she'd like to process it, too.

"...he says. He wants us to write everything we know," she says slowly. "About our situation. Everything we know. Also, anything we want them to know. He says he can explain more news if we need it. He says he has a plan?"

She doesn't mean to make it sound like a question. In the letter, Cub had phrased having a plan like it was the most natural thing in the world. It doesn't feel that way, though.

"He says Iskall isn't mad," she says.

"Good old Cubfan," Scar says, and it's probably not meant to sound as shaky as it does. "Gotta love him. Always has a plan, or at least knows how to fake it, that guy."

"He's probably faking it," Impulse says.

"Oh yeah. Probably," says Scar. "But he said he'd tell us the plan. That means he's going to make one. That means... oh. Did he say how to send him the notes?"

"Send him the rocket, I think. He said you'd know how to," Pearl says.

"Good. Get over here. We're writing everything down," Scar says, and for the first time in a long time, he sounds like the man who had planned all of this escape into the void in the first place, instead of someone just as scared and lost as the rest of them. For the first time in what has apparently been three months, it's Pearl who suddenly feels like she's the only one who doesn't understand what's happening. She watches the others go to argue about what they are, and what Cubfan means by telling him everything, and whether they can write things down, and everything about themselves that they'd never agreed on, and gravity and weird eyes and Pancake and hunger and -

Pearl makes a sound. She's not sure what sound it is. She certainly makes it, though.

"...Pearl?" asks Impulse, turning around.

"It's nothing," she says. "It's. They're coming."

"They're alive," Impulse says, simply. "The fact they hadn't yet is why I'd - but why wouldn't they, if they're alive?"

Pearl can list a million reasons.

"I guess you're right," she says hoarsely instead, and she goes to join them in their arguments about what to write in the letter, before they leave out something important or put in some assumption that is obviously, obviously false, and something she didn't know she was waiting for uncurls in her chest as she does.

(Knowing that rescue is possible, suddenly - it makes everything different.)

[votederpycausemufins]

All my knowledge is of hermitcraft and the stuff people have written for the Hermit!Tommy Au but I kept having this idea and needed to write it. I also think i got a bit out of character halfway through because it was supposed to be short, but i vibed with it too much so now it’s long and maybe not 100% accurate but it’s still angst followed by fluff.

also @petrichormeraki wanted me to tag them when i posted this.

Tommy had been with the Hermits for a while now. He hadn’t really kept track of when he first arrived, but it had at least been a few months. Otherwise, time was a mess. The Hermits has all but legally adopted him and all the joy that came from them caring for him made time seem to fly by.

Doc was fun to be around because while Tommy was perfectly fine never going back to the SMP, the way the man acted gave Tommy a small bit of familiarity in a good way to his past life.

He likes hanging out with False, mainly for sparring. Never anything deadly, but even if there wasn’t a need for Tommy to constantly look over his shoulder, it was good to keep from getting too rusty.

He doesn’t really hang out with Zedaph as much as Zedaph hangs out with him. Normally the Hermit would come out of the blue with something new for Tommy to try. Flicking levers over and over for something that would normally be as simple as using a furnace just became fun for Tommy, especially if he had energy pent up.

Xisuma is someone Tommy doesn’t run into much, but the fact that he doesn’t is something Tommy finds comfort in. Even as the server admin, the man is very down to Earth. Nothing like Dream ever was.

And then there’s Grian. Tommy got along with all the Hermits fine and of course there were some he preferred over others, but Grian took the cake for him. When he first showed up, Grian was the one to give him a place to stay at his old hobbit hole. Professor Beaks had been left there and still used to the SMP and scared for his life, Tommy hid the pet bird as leverage for his own safety. When Grian found out, he mostly shrugged it off, but the tens of chickens in the hobbit hole the next day was proof of retaliation.

Tommy didn’t understand the underwhelming response at first, but responded in kind, using the eggs from the chickens Grian had left to egg the Hermit’s base. When the builder nearly broke the door to the hobbit hole, Tommy grabbed his axe, ready to fight for his life, but was taken aback by the cheerful look on Grian’s face.

After that, Grian had practically taken Tommy under his wing. He showed Tommy how to build more effectively with cobble, eventually managing to get the teen to have some variety. Grian also brought Tommy along on his various chaotic endeavors, leaving behind chickens, mycelium, and possibly some missing doors.

The two chaotic red wearing Brits got along so well that they sometimes spent entire weeks together. Because of that, Tommy was all too aware that the Hermits participated in MCC as well.

It made sense. A few of the Hermits vaguely recognised him when he showed up in Hermitcraft and a few of them looked familiar to Tommy. That had made him feel a little safer since now these people weren’t complete strangers, but it did complicate things. Every so often, the portal to MCC would open and the Hermits participating would go through. The closest Tommy would get to the portal was just before the Hermits left, occasionally giving a ‘Good luck Grine!’ or something similar to Grian as he went through. But after that Tommy stayed as far away as he could manage.

The portal there led to MCC. And from there, there was a portal that led to the SMP. If Tommy could get to Hermitcraft, others could too. And that idea was terrifying, no matter who it was. Dream was a worst case scenario, but even if it was Tubbo. Tubbo had exiled him, and even if they were still on good terms after that, Tommy could have visited at some other MCC, but he didn’t, and that idea likely wouldn’t go over well, especially since otherwise, people probably thought he was dead and Tommy didn’t care to correct them.

But compared to all those other times, today was very different. Today Tommy wasn’t at the sidelines to help send off the other Hermits, he was one of the ones being sent off. They had taken every precaution. Mumbo had rebuilt his Spookification chamber for Tommy with some alterations, specifically removing the firework method of alteration. The teen was also dressed for being on a team with Grian as the Cyan Creepers, so his familiar red and white shirt was missing. But under Tommy’s costume, he still kept the chain necklace holding his compass. He refused to part with it, though made sure he would be hard to access to keep from glancing, knowing at the championships, it wouldn’t be spinning wildly anymore.

With a comforting pat on the back from Grian, he and the other Hermits walked through the portal. The crowd of people that were on the side almost immediately overwhelmed Tommy, making him think that it was a bad idea all over again, but the sight of the two other team members for the Cyan Creepers reassured them, especially as they lined up for the cameras for some fun and silly times. Then once the games began, he was too focused on winning to think of much else.

Before long, the championships were over. They had come in fifth, which was a bit disappointing at first, but on the other hand, it was still pretty good and kept the spotlight off of him. When dodgebolt began, Tommy stood next to Grian, but with a crowd of people, a good game, and no perfect place to sit, the both of them wandered for a better vantage point.

At one point, Tommy managed to push his way right up to the edge of the viewing ledge. It was the perfect place for a while until the action moved, causing everyone to decide it was the perfect place. Enough people moved nearby that Tommy was worried about falling into the pit below, and he almost did before someone pulled him back.

Tommy was ready to thank whichever Hermit or even other player helped him but the words died in his throat when he faced the person who grabbed him. He knew that mask and neon green color. And there was no reason for him to help Tommy unless-

“I finally found you!” Dream spoke. He raised his voice to be heard over the crowd, but not too much to draw the attention of others. Tommy froze as he definitely heard the words. But there was no way for Dream to know, he didn’t look at all like normal.

“I-I’m sorry.” Tommy tried not to stutter, hoping just the situation of being grabbed would excuse it. “But I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for. I’m new here. Unless you’re greeting me for being new.” It was something he prepared before in his mind after Grian brought up the possibility, but it felt sloppy putting it to use.

“Oh don’t lie Tommy. I know it’s you. I guess you got lost, but it’s okay, you can come back now. I got rid of the exile for you. Aren’t you glad?”

Tommy was glad for the mask that covered Dream’s face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see Dream’s actual expression. “How did you-” He started to speak, but Dream cut him off, poking Tommy’s chest, right where the compass was.

“Weren’t you paying attention to the teams? Tubbo got put with me. And between games he just happened to glance at his own compass. And wouldn’t you know it, it led me right here.” Dream held up the compass that belonged to Tubbo. It looked damaged, and it was recent. Tubbo likely didn’t want to give the tyrant admin the compass, but lost it to Dream anyway.

“Give that back to Tubbo!” Tommy shouted at Dream, trying to snatch it from him.

“Feisty now, aren’t you? We can take care of that when you come back. I’ll also give it back to him if you come with me.”

Tommy froze. There was no way he was going back, but what could he do? Everyone was focused on dodgebolt, and he didn’t want his appearance to have caused more trouble for Tubbo.

Tommy glanced at the crowd one last time before reluctantly nodding. Dream grabbed his hand in a painful clench and dragged him out of the crowd towards the SMP’s portal to leave. However, just before reaching it, Dream stopped. Tommy, who had been looking back at the crowd, hoping someone would see what was going on, turned towards the portal to see Grian standing in front of it.

“Heya, where do you think you’re going. MCC isn’t over yet. Dodgebolt it still going on.”

Tommy expected Dream to just push past Grian or even give some sort of retort, but the actual reply was shocking. “Uh, n-no, just… have to head back early. Th-the game delays made things run over. A-and we’ve got to get b-back for… something else. Don’t w-want to be late for that.”

Dream’s words made Tommy so shocked he forgot to breathe. Dream was scared, no he was terrified. And he was terrified… of Grian. Tommy looked back at the Hermit who stood unflinching in front of them.

“Really? I could have sworn that you were here when I arrived, and that kid wasn’t. And he definitely came from a different portal. I know since I was keeping my eye out for my teammates. So why’s he going with you?”

“I uh…” Dream struggled, struggled, to give an answer, letting Grian continue. “That’s what I thought. C’mon kid, let’s go back to the crowd. You can stay with me until it’s over then I’ll help you find your portal back.”

And Grian took Tommy away without any retaliation from Dream. Tommy was left in awe. Grian wasn’t even an admin in Hermitcraft but Dream was terrified of him. It was amazing! But at the same time, it made Tommy spiral a bit.

When everyone returned, Grian had made sure Dream left before the Hermits and Tommy did so Dream couldn’t watch Tommy leave. Tommy stuck to False’s side as they walked through the portal, Grian being the last to come through as he continued to act as a guard. When he tried to comfort Tommy after his run-in with Dream, he understood when the teen responded he just wanted to go home. The championships were exhausting enough without a scare like that.

The next day, Tommy hung out with False. And then Zedaph, and then Doc. Grian noticed immediately, but didn’t pay much mind to it. He noticed since Tommy had spent a full week only hanging out with him, so the sudden absence of the boy was noticeable, but it made sense that he would want to hang out with the others.

After that, Grian didn’t pay too much attention to the lack of Tommy until he ran into him while stocking the barge. Tommy had been buying something at the store when Grian flew in. He nearly dropped his diamonds in trying to leave in such a hurry that it finally concerned Grian. The builder started visiting other Hermits Tommy tended to visit and ask about him. No one really noticed much other than Tommy dodging any questions about him possibly going to hang out with Grian.

Grian decided to leave it alone, and he was definitely going to, but after another run in with Tommy, he threw that decision out the window. Grian normally wouldn’t have done this, but after trying multiple times to just talk to Tommy and being unsuccessful, the builder had to essentially corner the teen.

Immediately, Grian regretted it. Tommy was trembling, obviously scared, holding a sword in his hand. He carefully tried to point out that Tommy didn’t need to have his sword out, but instead of just putting it away, Tommy just threw it on the ground, also throwing down his other gear. Grian had heard of Tommy doing this before with the other Hermits, so he immediately recognised what was going on and dived to grab the gear. It scared Tommy more, but Grian wanted to make sure nothing ended up destroyed.

“Tommy, calm down, I just want to talk. Did I do something wrong? I mean, obviously I must have, you look scared out of your mind every time I’m around you. But I can’t think or anything I did and I don’t want this to keep happening. So can I know what’s going on?”

Tommy didn’t speak for a while. He just looked defeated and terrified. Grian called in some of the other Hermits to come help Tommy calm down, though at first it didn’t help. But over time, Tommy finally did stop looking so terrified and they moved to somewhere he would feel less cornered. It took more coaxing after that, but finally, Tommy explained himself.

“He’s scared of you. Dream is… actually scared of you.”

“Yeah, I’ve killed him once or twice. Plus my full name is Lord Grian Dreamslayer, so it’s kind of in the name.” The builder tried to say it as a joke, but it didn’t seem to lighten the mood.”

“He’s the admin and he’s scared of you. And you… I’ve been hanging out with you.”

Grian nodded. “Well yeah, we do fit together well. ...Did he say something at MCC to make you think I didn’t like you?”

Tommy shook his head. “N-No. You’re right, you’re fun to be around. But dream likes… liked messing with me. And tried to train me. And I hang out with you more than I had with him, and I’m more like you. I-If you’re somehow more powerful than him-!” The rest of the words stopped in Tommy’s throat, choking him up. Stress was nearby and gave Tommy a careful hug for comfort, which helped him a little.

Grian waited a little bit for the tension to calm slightly before he spoke. “I don’t know exactly what Dream has done to you. You’ve told us a lot, but you obviously haven’t told us everything, and telling us isn’t the same as experiencing it. But let me tell you that I’m not going to do what he’s done to you. I remember how you were the first day we found you. And I see how you are now- well, how you were a few weeks ago- and I’m happy. Happy because you’ve been happy. You’ve been safe and cared for here and it shows. I don’t want to force you to be anything, I want you to be you. Sure, I’m powerful enough to kill Dream, but I’m not going to use that power on you. I’m only going to use it around you if it’s to keep him away from you.

“And! And! It’s just because of how your server is. Here we can go to the end. We don’t have a set amount of lives. We build massive structures and sell totems for a single diamond each. We fight Withers for fun and make farms with them. We farm just about anything you can think of. And Tommy.” Grian paused, making sure Tommy was paying attention. “You may be from somewhere far off that none of us old Hermits have seen, but now you’re here. And new home or not, that makes you a Hermit too. Sure you can be like me. Or you can be like False or Doc or Scar or Mumbo. But so far, you’ve been pretty you. And that you is a Hermit.”

Tommy took a few moments to process it, but the message seemed to get through to him. With that, Grian stood up with a smile. “Now I get that you probably don’t want to hang around me much right now. It makes sense. Maybe hang out with some other Hermits and learn some new stuff to get your mind off of things. Plus, I also did some talking around looking for you, and got you this.”

Tommy’s eyes practically sparkled as Grian placed down some music discs. He greedily grabbed the treasures and stuffed them in his inventory, looking up just to see Grian flying off. Taking on Grian’s idea, Tommy decided to go with Cleo and try to wrap his head around those armor stands again. While he wasn’t a pro, he did manage to make one scene of the hermits all holding weapons and surrounding an armor stand in lime leather armor. Grian was right. He was a Hermit. And he wasn’t going back. At least, not permanently, he thought, clutching his compass. Maybe, there would even be another Hermit like him.

[gravel-rotat-e]

Since none of the Hermits are being Earthquake Safe, I have decided to make a fun and informative post thing that will be called Earthquake Safety With Bdubs

Bdubs will of course be in my regular style but everything else will look like THIS

And it will be great :)

[Image description: two separate drawings in the style of scribbly stick figures that have shirts, pants, and hair.

The first drawing is a "comic" with three panels. This comic is stick figure Mumbo showing that standing under a doorway is a good but not the best idea because if the ceiling collapses next to the door it will hit you on its way down. In panel one, Mumbo is standing under a doorway as the building shakes and cracks appear in the ceiling. Panel two is only the top half of his body, his eyes closed, as a piece of the ceiling smacks him on the head. Panel three is him lying on the floor with stars and spirals around his head and spiral eyes with the piece of the ceiling next to him. There is a big arrow that is labeled idiot in all caps pointing at him.

The second drawing is of stick figure Grian and stick figure Scar demonstrating asking your disabled friends and family members how to best help them to safer ground. Scar is in his Swaggon outfit. He is sitting in a wheelchair with a stick figure Jellie on his lap. It is clear by the way he's drawn that the wheelchair was drawn first. Grian has two half ovals drawn behind him to show he has stick figure wings. He is gesturing towards Scar and has a speech bubble that only has a question mark in it. End image description.]

[fan-da-nerd]

“we don’t tolerate that here” a Hermitcraft fanfic

yso i saw an anon post from @give-grian-rights that gave me inspiration to write a Hermitcraft one-shot based on the Sam’s funeral... story? anyway, i hope you enjoy

TW: panic attacks, trauma, death, beating abusers to death, vomiting  mention

no one planned for it to happen, no one really even knew. but that changed one day when mumbo was just wandering around the forest and found himself at the foot of Grian’s mansion. the prismirine build towered above him, casting a shadow over him in the late day sun. The mustacheio’d man decided to have a peek inside the mansion just to see if Grian was there and if he’d done anything new.  

he strolled inside, past the map corridor into the main room. he huffed quietly as he looked around at the sprawling sorting system. you really need to get on that he thought to himself. he continued to look around, not seeing Grian anywhere. 

just then he heard crying. quiet and whimpering from behind the rows of HMMMMM. Mumbo made his way around them, looking around for the source of the noise. he found it in a bundle of red jumper and shimmering wings. wings wrapped tight around him as he laid curled on the floor. mumbo moved swiftly over to him, slowing when he got close. 

“Grian?” he spoke gently as he took a step closer. the man on the floor curled up tighter with a yelp, shaking with unsteady breath. “its ok Grian, its me, mumbo.” he whimpered again then gagged and cough roughly. this continued, gagging and wheezing so much then he uncurled  and braced himself up. mumbo hurried over to his friend and rested his hand on his back. Grian flinched in surprise but continued to cough. 

“hey, hey, Grian look at me. its ok, what do you need? mumbo asked in a panic. Grian wheezed again, but finally looked up at mumbo. eyes bloodshot and face pale from fear and pain. the dark haired man moved quickly when Grian started gagging again. grabbing the nearest composter and moving it in front of his friend, helping him get up and lean against it. 

“what happened, did you eat a pufferfish? do you need a health potion, milk?” he continued berating him with questions as he started to get up to grabbed whichever liquid he could find first. As he started to stand he felt a hand rest on his knee. he looked down and met Grian’s eyes, where the shorter man just slowly shook his head. tears ran down his face and his breathing still jerked and wheezed. Mumbo slowly kneeled down again as Grian turned and coughed again, starting to claw at his throat. 

“Grian, don’t. what’s happening?” he muttered in distress. Grian didn’t speak for a moment the muttered.

“pan- panic” 

mumbo thought for a moment panic, panic, panic- “panic attack?” he asked quickly. Grian nodded, holding his throat and coughing like he was trying to cough something up. 

“water” he muttered, and mumbo began rummaging though his bag for a water bucket. he pulled it out and handed it to Gri, who chugged it in less than 30 seconds. he coughed but finally leaned back, his chest rose up and down sporadically.

“hey, hey. breath Grian. in for 5-”

they continued like this together, in, hold, out.in a couple minute Grian had stopped crying,  and his breathing had steadied to a normal steady pace. mumbo moved in front of him slowly. “ok, Grian. what happened? you don’t have to tell me, but if you are willing to. I want to help.” Grian stared off into nothing, his eyes started to well up with tears again as he seemed to see things no one else could. Mumbo could hear him trying to force his breath to stay calm. Grian took a deep breath, then everything began to spill out.

“I saw a white rabbit and it sent me spiraling and i couldn't stop thinking and he hurt me it hurt so bad he cut my wings, forces plastic down my throat he tried to MURDER me Mumbo he put a knife in my side and i still feel like there's plastics lodged in my throat and I want to scream and cry whenever i think about it and Sam so many and done so much terrible things and he didn’t get his karma-” this vent ended is mumbo grabbing him and pulling him close, trying to stop the spiraling before it gets back to how it was when he found him. Grian's shoulders when slack and he leaned into the hug, and they sat there together in silence. 

mumbo sat there, trying to think of something to say to this. he knew that Grian didn’t like talking too much about his early past. sure they’d learned some things, other worlds like Evo and projects he did in his own world but they never knew much. and definitely not this. he thought for what felt like an hour before finally asking. “are you ok now?” He could feel Grian hesitate, but nod. “ok. whatever happened in your past, its not the present. you’re with us now.” 

Grian took a breath and pulled away from his mustached friend. His eyes softened and he smiled. “thanks mumbo.” he nodded and stood up, offering a hand to his shorter friend. Grian took his hand and pulled himself to his feet, stumbling but standing. 

“hey Grian?”

“yeah?” 

“is it ok if i tell X about this? so that more people can know about your triggers and avoid-” he made a vague gesture “this? its ok if not” Grian thought for a moment then nodded.

“probably easier than me trying to talk though it” he chuckled quietly at the end. Mumbo smiled, half happy half concerned before glancing at the door. 

“ok, then I think I’m going to leave now. if your ok-” Grian cut him off with a nod. Mumbo waved goodbye, then took off with only 20 rockets. 

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Mumbo flew around, weaving between the towers of the jungle looking for the Admin.  he eventually spotted him in his main tower and landed on the balcony. Xisuma was setting his ravenger helmet, no doubt having just changed after a decked out run. he spotted mumbo and spun around, grabbing his Bee helmet on the way around. “Mr. Jumbo, what do i own the pleasurer?” 

“hey X...” Mumbo started, very suddenly realizing he did not know how to open this conversation. “I wanted to let you know about something that happened with Grian.” X’s face fell a little as he tilted his head to the side 

“is he ok? 

mumbo sighed and shrugged “not really. i found him having a panic attack in his mansion. he said he’s ok now but i thought you should know.” 

“oh,’ Xisuma’s voice softened as he sat down against the wall, locking his helmet on as he went. “mind telling me what happened?” Mumbo sat down across from him and began to explain everything he could remember. Clipped wings, attempted murder, stabbing, harassments, unfulfilled karma. it was a little hard to see Xisuma’s expression behind the black visor, but Mumbo could make out concern with tinges of anger. an expression he was not used to seeing on the bee man. when mumbo finished X was deep in thought. he nodded slowly before looking down at his communicator. the device they use to message, research, change worlds, ect. 

“did he say who this was?” Mumbo pauses for a minute as he tried to remember. 

“it was... Sam? the spiral was also caused by a white rabbit. that's all i really know.” X nodded and looked back up at Mumbo.

“thanks for letting me know.” something about his voice sat oddly with the dark haired man but he let it go. to be honest Mumbo was angry himself. that someone would hurt Grian like that and not his due. he stood up and nodded at X, who nodded back. something told him that X understood what Mumbo was feeling. He turned around and jumped off the tower, taking off into the blue. “Sam.. rabbit.” X muttered to himself as he began to type into his device. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the next morning came with an odd message from X.

‘if anyone would like to join me in punishing, meet at the SD between the diamond trees in 5’ -Xisumavoid

‘sounds fun. I’m in’ -TangoTek

‘what?” -impulseSV

5 minutes later roughly half the server was there. some out of curiosity, some trusting that if X wants to punish someone its probably reasonable.  Etho, impulse, Ren, Mumbo, False, tango, Iskall, Wels, and of course Xisuma were all gathered together in front of the whirling portal.

“mind explaining why we’re gathered here?” Wels asked as he looked around at how many people had arrived. X took and breath and walked in front of the group. 

“ladies and gentleman, today we’re here because a member of our community has terrible trauma and an abuser who got away without punishment. an abuser who killed, maimed, manipulated, and injured multiple people in a non responing world” silence fell over the group in surprise. “I believe they deserve to get punished. you in?” no words were spoken but Wels stood up tall and pulled his sword. others followed suit and did the same. Etho pulled his bow and tango loaded a crossbow with a rocket. X nodded, and began to type into his device. 

as they stood around, none of the notice and short man in a jumper flying into the district. he started towards the barge but turned when he saw a gathering of half the server who looked like they were ready for homicide. he didn’t want to interrupt so he kept to the side and just watched. of all the things he thought could be happening, Sam Gladiator falling from the sky was not on that list. every muscle in his body tensed, wanting to book it or throw hands but instead it just froze stock still. 

The Bunny boy plummeted from the sky and landed with a hard thud. he stood, with everything spinning but saw himself surrounded by people he did not know. at first. then, hiding beside a large blue sea creature he saw an old friend of his. glancing around, the multiple armed adults was... surprising, but not too concerning. Everyone was dying or killing back home. he stood to his feet and took a step towards the older kid. as he did this, mumbo followed his gaze and spotted the small bundle of red and gray, panicking instantly. without thinking he lurched forward and shot his blade out, blocking Sam from getting to Grian. 

he looked up at Grian and only saw fear, he had taken a step back in perfect sync with Sam stepping forward. Instantly, mumbo only saw red hot rage. X’s voice broke the daze as he spoke of the crowd. “you are the one who hurt him, aren’t you?” his tone implied that he wasn’t really asking. 

Sam turned to him and laughed. “Its not that bad-” 

“You. abused. him.” X snapped back, exasperated and pissed. “and we don’t tolerate that here. Go.” that was all that was needed. 

The fight broke out instantly, a kid with a knife clashing with explosions and swords. People of both sides had blades stabbed into them and the bunny boy held surprisingly well in the fight. that does not mean he did well. he died multiple times and every time he responed again and got back into the fight. it was nearly impossible to head over the clash of metal and fireworks a yard from your face. The incoming storm did not help, the distant roar of thunder and shocks of light made the whole thing even more disorienting. 

Grian watched this go on, seeing the people he loved and the land he called home. for the first time in a while, he looked at the white rabbit ear and still felt safe. they were willing to research, summon, and fight a guy they don't even know except as a murderer. just because he had hurt Grian. his muscles relaxed as he blinked the shock out of his eyes. he watched the fight rage on, the dark clouds coming in, and got an idea. he slinked into guardian goodies and found the ender chest. he rummaged through it and found what he was looking for. standing up and pulled out the glistening trident, lightning crackling between the prongs. he climbed up guardian goodies, stood up on the top, and he smiled. He felt absolutely honored and loved by the hermits, but it was time for him to face his past. this was his fight, and he knew that the hermits were by his side in the battle. 

he pulled up his device and typed two simple words.

‘get back.’- grian

everyone looked around, and when they finally saw him his eye were sharp on Sam. Trident lifted above his head, crackling with power and magic. his knuckles turned white as he thought about all that had happened, everything that he’d done. everyone pulled away from Sam, leaving him exposed as Grian finally shot forward and let it all go.

lightning cracked down on sam, and this time he didn’t respon

no proofreading, we die like men

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 53- Rescue

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Grian is at the mercy of Dolios and his dark magic, but are the hermits there to save him in time? Or has the end come for the healing mage?

[Note: Hey everyone, I’m sorry for the time that was between chapters. A lot of really emotional and personal things happened over the past few months, and it just really pushed me off balance. But I really cant thank Red enough for being at my side the whole time- he’s the real hero in all of this. 

Happy Season 8!]

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To be back in the dark, cold bowels of the dungeons, willingly returning to the chamber that Dolios forced them to play his game in, left every hermit with a strange mix of dread and remorse. Almost every hermit, except for the few that weren’t around during the championship, can remember waking up in cells, being dragged from the hard stone floor at knifepoint, and turned into pawns for Dolios to control. Promising he will kill every last one in his game, and making TFC play along. 

But they hardly linger in the very chamber where their guildmaster outwitted the Magistrate of Lairyon, rather continuing on their search for a passage to the subchamber. Scar can feel the cavity in the stone beneath their feet, but no staircase seems to lead them down. It wasn’t until Cleo summoned the ghosts of those who died here, their souls lingering, that they are pointed in the right direction. So many souls, having seen so much suffering, not just from Dolios within these walls, though many are from his doing. 

A ghost guides the hermits to a circular room, and though their voice has long faded with time, their misty hands point to the center of the room. Mumbo kneels down. “There’s machinery here. If I just…” He places his hands against the smooth stone, and without even having to think, his magic appears. Redstone seeping through the seams of the rock, reconfiguring the mechanics and forcing the spiral staircase to descend. 

Everyone, including Mumbo, is surprised by his power. He’s never had such control before in his life. But they don’t linger on this new development. Not when time is running shorter and shorter for Grian. They cause a jam in the thin staircase, twenty something hermits rushing to the subchamber. Unlike the rooms above them, the stone is rough cut, no bricks or stenciling. It looks more like a cave blown open than a carved dungeon. 

A heavy weight wraps in on the hermits. They know they’re close as the pressure increases on their bodies. They follow the struggle to breathe, the feeling of carrying stones on their back. They’ve come to know the signs of a dark crystal well- and it leads them right to not one, but three towers of corrupted gems. 

They’re massive, protruding from the ground at an angle, black spikes erupting from the earth. The air is heavy with mist, swirling in tendrils, like the very tentacles of Eurynomos, way back in the forest. The mist grasps the open air, siphoning the very life from the stone and oxygen and taking it for itself. Every so often, a pulse of darkness bursts from the corrupted crystals, with such force it causes the entire cavern to shudder, and blows back the hermits’ hair and clothes. They all duck with each explosion, but one person remains standing, reveling in the energy that's breaking free from the crystals. 

Dolios’s fingers toy with the mist, grasping the air and feeling the power. With each eruption, the black seal between him and the central crystal glows. For a second, the hermits swear they can see the mist at his back look almost...feather-like. 

“Oh my gods… Grian.” Stress’s voice is so small, so quiet, the other hermits almost don’t hear it. But their captured friend’s name on anyone’s lips is enough to catch their attention. 

He’s grey, so monochrome that it was almost impossible to pick him out among the black crystals, the grey mist, and the dark magic. Limp body and hands, eyes open but unseeing, Grian is chained to the central crystal. Once blond hair, now an ashen grey, curls and crests over Grian’s face, his chin dropped to his chest. The hermits don’t breathe until they see him do so, but it’s a horribly shallow breath. Another wave of energy rolls through the crystals, and Grian’s body loses more of its color. More of it’s life. At this point, he hardly even reacts to the tearing of his lifeforce, his magic, from his body. Fingers twitch, but even those are beginning to turn flaky, fading away into oblivion. The tips of his once blue cape become little more than mist. Even the energy, the powers of the very atoms are being torn apart. Grian was very near death- or a fate worse. 

All for Dolios, and his insatiable need for power. The low thunder of every wave is broken by Dolios’s voice. He flexes his hands, laughing to himself. “Of all the angels I’ve stolen magic from before, it has never been this strong. Even Celia had nothing against you. I feel like I could blow all of Milliara apart with a windstorm this instant! Don’t worry, little bird, your magic is in good hands.” 

Iskall and Mumbo both scuffle to their feet, surging forward. Mumbo faster than Iskall. Too fast for TFC to grab him before he’s over the boulder they hid behind. And too fast to stop even his own magic from summoning. But it wasn’t the out of control magic that the hermits have seen before. Like destroying the crystal shard on Eremita, or in the depths of the Hangman’s Playground. 

No, even though lightning filled Mumbo’s vision, and magic surged through his veins like energy through a redstone circuit, he had every wit and thought about him. For the first time, he had true, full control. Every iota of power was at his command, like a dragon spreading it’s wings for it’s first flight across the sky. 

With a flippant wave of his hand, the twin satellite crystals shatter, red bolts of lightning creasing through the darkness-bound lattice. The air is filled with glittering crystals, mist freed from the quartz and purging it of the darkness. Mumbo turns his power, his attention towards the crystal that Grian’s chained to, and presses his fingers together to destroy the last crystal. 

He’s blown off his feet, a burst of wind from nowhere sending him skidding across the floor. When Mumbo gathers his wits and looks up, finally seeing Dolios through his anger, the magistrates is wild with manic delight. “Oh, now that’s real magic. I think this little bird’s powers might become my new favorite.” The other hermits dare to step out, walking through the shattered, transparent remains of the crystals. Dolios is the only color before them, his plush robes and rich colors standing out against the swirling magic. “Ah, the whole parade is here. Come to watch your friend die? Or will you all be joining him as well?” 

Dolios turns, resting his gaze on Grian. The hermits watch in horror as their healer looks as if he’s about to blow away in the wind. Like dust in the shape of a human. His eyes are empty, no glimmer of life left. They realize they may be too late. 

But that doesn’t stop them from getting their revenge. Mumbo remains focused on the crystal his friend is trapped against, but a sharp shard of gemstone goes flying through the air, cracking Dolios upside the head. Blood pours from the wound, matting the curly brown hair that crowns Dolios. He turns, anger mixing with the mania into a dangerous concoction. But his fury doesn’t get to live long, not when Scar drives a wedge of rock into Dolios’s jaw. This time it’s the magistrate that goes skidding across the rough hewn floor. In his attempt to stand up, Dolios becomes ensnared in just about every medium of magic the hermits can offer. Vines tie him down, radioactive spikes pin his clothes and hair to the floor, a ring of hellfire erupting from the depths of the earth. 

Mumbo, however, remains focused on his best friend before him. Summoning all his magic, every ounce of effort he’s ever put forth, he sends a bolt of lightning directly to the core of the crystal that is draining Grian. The lightning strikes true, hardly even raising a hair on what remains of the sky angel, but obliterating the crystal he hangs from. From the inside out, the darkness is banished by red light, like the sun rising red on a bright, beautiful daybreak. Blinding everyone within the cave- except Mumbo. He’s not lost in the light, the power, the magic. He’s a part of it all. 

The crystal shatters, and Grian falls. Crumpled to the ground, he looks to be little more than a pile of ash and rags among the sparkling crystal shards. Like the moon adrift in the sea of stars. 

When the hermits blink away their momentary blindness, they find Mumbo is already at his friend’s side. With a few teary blinks, the last of the lightning fizzles away, and Mumbo’s voice cracks like the very gems he destroyed. “G-Grian? Grian, wake up.” 

But Grian doesn’t move. Mumbo reaches out, grabbing the angel and pulling him to the safety of the hermits. Holding him close as the others surround. Ren reaches out, placing a hand on Grian’s shoulder. He retreats immediately, when Grian’s shoulder seems to fade from existence, flaking to ash and falling apart under Ren’s pressure. “Is he….” 

No one dares speak the word. Joe scribbles down a healing poem, but the magic does nothing. Grian doesn’t breathe, his eyes don’t blink. They just stare, empty, at the cavern roof above. And he continues to fade, all color lost, becoming nothing more than dust. 

“No, nononononono.” Mumbo’s words stumble and jumble together, and he shakes and jolts Grian as if trying to rise him from a dream. “Grian, don’t leave us! We need you!” 

Still nothing. 

Mumbo’s shoulders slump. A weight heavier than any dark crystal hangs over the hermits as Grian’s limp form lays in Mumbo’s arms before them. Tears threaten to spill from Mumbo’s eyes. Grian was his first real friend, the one who saved him all those years ago. And he couldn’t return the favor now. It was Grian that offered him kindness, offered him friendship. Grian who gave Mumbo a true family, a real home, who trained with him even when all seemed hopeless, and drank with him when nights were bright. It was because of Grian that Mumbo has a father in TFC, friends all around him. And now? 

Now his best friend was dead in his arms. Fading from existence, his magic and life stolen by a monster in magistrate’s clothes. Mumbo tips his head, breath stuttering as tears fall freely. Like a stream after a storm, rivers of salt water across his cheeks, cresting his jaw and running across the valley of his throat. Some droplets are caught in his mustache, others stain the collar of his outfit. All the hermits openly cry, even Doc. Memories flood alongside the tears, bowed heads over their fallen comrade as Mumbo holds his fallen friend tight.

One tear falls straight down, landing with a wet plop on Grian’s eyelid. Water, the lifeblood of Lairyon, slowly drips into Grian’s own vacant eyes. And from the ashen grey, empty gaze, a single vein of blue appears within his iris. 

Like a river, the blue flows freely, spilling across Giran’s sky blue eyes. Filling the empty grey valley with fresh blue water. And from the blue, like the sun reflecting off the see, a glimmer appears. 

Iskall noticed the color returning first. The pink of Grian’s face, sunlight colored hair beginning to renourish with color. Bringing Grian slowly back from death’s doorstep. He slaps Mumbo on the shoulder, his own breath gasping. Words struggling to break free from the nuclear wizard’s mouth, rather just random noises escaping his lips. 

It’s enough to get Mumbo’s attention, as well as every other hermit. Through teary eyes, they see the color spread. The red of Grian’s robes, the blue of his cape. The translucent, flaking form becomes solid and tangible again. 

And then Grian breathes. So shallow and soft, it’s almost impossible to see. But to the hermits, it might as well be an earth breaking tremble. Eyes blink, and parted lips move. A whisper of a voice breaks free from death’s grip. “Mumbo? Iskall? Guys?”

Grian can’t sing, but the words from him might as well be a chorus of angels. He was alive. Whether it was pure luck, the gift of life that water carries, or simply the friendship the hermits hold, something brought Grian back from the brink. 

Only one thing can break the joy. And that one thing has to open his mouth. From across the room, Dolios writhes in his bonds, snering. “Oh that’s just touching, isn’t it? If I can’t have it all, then I might as well kill every last one of you.” 

Doc realizes what’s happening first, but Dolios is just out of reach. A bout of strength that can only be attributed to previously stolen magic, Dolios tears apart the vines and breaks apart the crossed spears of iskallium. He stands, brushing off leaves and radioactive dust from his robes and tugging on his ponytail. When he opens his eyes, a crooked, crazed grin creases the leader’s normally charismatic face. “Do you really think such weak power can hold me down?” 

Wels reacts just in time to shield the hermits from the arc of magic that aimed for the group. Dolios doesn’t let up on his barrage, and the magical barrier begins to crack and contort against the dark energy. No hermit can step out from behind the shield without risking certain death. 

A wild, cackling laughter echoes off the cavern. “What will you roaches do without your precious angel now? Who will save you now?”

Wels’s barrier breaks. And Dolios attacks.

[paradoxlemonade]

Unintended Consequences

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Ships: None/gen

words: 2434

Warnings: self-blame, suffocation/inability to breathe, blood (that makes it sound so much worse than it is)

Ao3: Here!

Grian tossed the carved glass idol back and forth between his hands with a frown. "Still not feeling anything." He held it up so the sunlight refracted through the cyan crystals. "It’s pretty and all, but not magical."

Scar huffed and took the crystal back. "What's making you different from everyone else? The only other immune person is Mumbo, but he's a null." Scar went silent for a moment. "You aren't a null, right?"

Grian laughed. "Nope, not a null. Magic still affects me like normal." 

Scar scowled and paced for a moment. "What am I missing? What makes you different?"

Grian grinned and shrugged. "I guess I'm special." He leaned against Larry's shell and crossed his arms. "Why are you so worked up about this? So I'm not affected by the crystals, which I'm still not convinced are actually magic? What's the big deal?"

Scar shook his head and began putting the small bits of rainbow back into the mess of shulker boxes outside his base. "It doesn't add up. Mumbo's a null so of course, they didn't affect him. Everyone else had notable reactions. Some were stronger than others, yeah, but there was always something."

Grian snorted and tightened the straps on his elytra. "Sure, dude. Either they aren't magic or I'm special." He walked forward and punched Scar's shoulder. "I have my base to work on, but let me know if you want me to hold a different piece of pretty glass."

"Of cour- Hey, they're not just glass!" Grian laughed as he flew over the treeline and out of view.

Scar sighed and turned his attention back to cleaning up the shulker boxes from his latest improvements to his magical village. 

What was the missing variable? They'd already confirmed Grian wasn't a null. But if magic affected him, then the crystals should as well. 

He furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the cyan statue Grian held earlier. If he focused, he could feel the faint pulse of magic within the glass, but it felt off somehow. Not necessarily wrong, but different. Slightly to the left. Warmer but sharper than the normal cyan statues. It took a moment to place, but it had the same energy as salt. Huh. That’s not normal.

Scar frowned and shoved the crystal into his ender chest. He needed to look into that as soon as possible.

**********

Grian flew over the top of the jungle, grinning as the wind buffeted his skin. He may be known for building, but the sky was his true domain. No one could match him in elytra dexterity nor enthusiasm for avoiding the ground.

He scanned the forest canopy and zeroed in on a small black frame on top of one of the tallest trees. With a flutter of adrenaline, he flattened his wings to his back and went into a dive.

Blood roared in his ears as his speed built. 

Faster and faster in freefall, anyone less foolhardy would have pulled out by then. Grian prided himself on not being most people.

He flared his wings at the last second and landed in a roll in front of his nether portal. He hopped to his feet and walked through, only to take off once more.

Grian smiled breathlessly as he glided over the nether ceiling to the shopping district. He wouldn't trade flying for anything.

**********

Grian was bored out of his skull. He ran out of dark prismarine for the roof of his base. His chest hurt. He felt like generalized garbage. A good prank would get him feeling back on track. 

He chuckled and took off with a shot of fireworks. It didn’t take long for Iskall’s Omega Tree of Fun and Happiness to appear on the horizon. Grian adjusted his angle and landed gracefully on a branch. 

When he didn’t immediately find his quarry, Grian floated down the trunk in a lazy spiral and scanned the interior.

Iskall wasn’t in the center, nor any of the little cave things. Grian groaned and flopped onto the grassy floor. He didn’t want to run all over the server, he could be anywhere and while Grian wasted a lot of fireworks, he didn’t want to buy more so soon.

... They both have communicators. Oops.

Grian: Iskallllllllll

Iskall85: what’s up?

Grian: I’m so bored

FalseSymmetry: oh no.

Grian: Where are you?

Iskall: I’m camping the button. Don’t expect much entertainment from me

Grian: okay sure :)

Grian grinned and shoved his communicator back into his pocket, ignoring any other pings from it. He dashed over into Iskall’s portal and jumped inside.

Acrid, dry air hit his lungs like a thousand needles. Grian gasped and doubled over in a coughing fit. He shook it off after a moment, but nagging worry nestled in the back of his mind.

Grian took off towards the button. He didn’t plan how he would mess with Iskall, but something to fill his time would be better than wandering around the jungle or the shopping district doing nothing.

As he neared his target, Grian’s chest tightened. Panic grew as his flight faltered and he choked on air.

He landed on his feet but crumpled to the ground behind the button throne. His throat burned. He struggled to push himself into a sitting position. 

“Grian! Are you okay?” Iskall ran over and kneeled in front of him, Mumbo on his heels. Iskall slung an arm across Grian’s shoulders and pulled him upright. Grian’s breath hitched. He coughed into his hand. When he drew it back, his fingers were splattered with warm blood.

Iskall cursed and picked him up bridal style. He yelled something to Mumbo, but Grian couldn’t hear. Everything sounded far away. Black spots overtook his vision. Grian fainted.

***********

Grian just coughed up blood. Blood. Something was very wrong with this picture, and it was the color red.

Iskall clutched a shaking, unconscious Grian to his chest and stood up. “Mumbo, can you-“

“Already on it.” Iskall glanced over his shoulder. Mumbo typed a message on his communicator. “We need to get him out of the nether.”

Iskall nodded and started running towards the shopping district portal. It was at least a central location. They could plan better from there. The communicators pinged again. Iskall didn’t stop to check.

Mumbo did mid-stride. He read out the message with a shaking voice. “Change of plans, reroute to Scar’s base! He says he knows what’s going on.”

Iskall didn’t have time to question. He changed his angle and arrived at the new portal.

***********

Scar clenched his hands tighter around his communicator to keep them from trembling. Horror pooled in his stomach as he read the latest message.

MumboJumbo: Grian coughed up blood and passed out. Can someone meet us in the shopping district with healing potions?

Scar punched in a response before anyone else could.

Goodtimeswithscar: Bring him to my village. I think I know what’s going on.

For once, the variables fell into place. Grian and the idol were in a positive feedback loop of magic alterations. He changed the idol; the idol changed him. People’s auras reacting unexpectedly to the crystals wasn’t even unprecedented. Grian had a delayed reaction.

A tendril of guilt twisted around Scar’s mind. He made no attempt to refute it as he walked out of his base wearing a stoic mask. He had no time for a pity party.

With a stack of dirt from his inventory, he built a shallow wading pool into the lake by Larry. He placed the last few blocks as Iskall and Mumbo stumbled through his nether portal.

Scar jerked his head up, and made contact with Iskall’s fear-filled eyes. No time to waste. “Bring him over!”

The two of them dashed over. “What’s the pond for?” Mumbo asked.

Scar neglected to answer as Iskall shifted Grian’s weight to his arms. His breath was weak. His skin was sallow. Scar lowered him into the water and removed the dull sweater swamping his scrawny frame.

Hundreds of pale beige scales interlocked over Grian’s torso and down his arms. Large gill slits crossed his sides. They fluttered delicately as Grian began to cycle water.

“Oh my goodness,” Mumbo said. “When did...?”

Scar didn’t tear his gaze away from the person he’d hurt. “Recently,” Scar said. “In the past week, at most.” Scar screwed his eyes shut and hauled himself out of the waist-deep pool.

“I wanted to know why he hadn’t reacted to the crystals.” He scowled and the dirt. “Turns out he did. Just very slowly.”

*************

“Are you saying this is your fault?” Iskall asked, voice low and dangerous. Mumbo jerked his head up from staring at Grian’s prone form. Iskall glared daggers at Scar, who raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“It’s not like I could have seen this coming!” Scar gestured at Grian. “Only Ren and Cub had serious side effects, but it still wasn’t anything like this!” He looked helplessly to- “Mumbo, you get this, right?”

“I-”

Iskall’s hands balled into fists. “Grian passed out because of something you did.” Scar flinched at the words and wrung his hands together. Iskall took a step forward. “I hope that you have a plan to fix this.”

Mumbo grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “Iskall, control yourself. Getting angry won’t solve anything.” He turned and met Mumbo’s gaze. The aggression in his eyes faded as fast as it appeared. His shoulders slumped as if drained of energy. Scar relaxed in turn.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just worried.” Iskall groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “This isn’t how I expected my day to go.”

Scar laughed humorlessly. “Don’t I know it.” He turned towards Larry and gestured for Iskall to follow. “Come on, I have a few ideas for a reversal.”

Mumbo shooed the two of them off and took a seat by Grian’s pool of water. He drew up his legs and rested his chin on his knees. Grian almost looked peaceful. With his head resting on the dirt and his eyes closed as if sleeping, Mumbo could pretend nothing had changed, even for just a moment. As his gaze drew down to the glinting scales and gills, Mumbo scowled and knitted up his eyebrows.

If there was one thing Mumbo hated, it was not understanding. Magic had always been beyond him. He recognized the principles on an intellectual level, but magic was inexact and variable. Given that he couldn’t interact with it without potions or an enchanting table, it’s not like he studied it for himself.

Mumbo looked back to Grian’s face and prepared himself for hours of waiting. “Please,” he whispered. “Be okay.”

***************

The world came back in stages. First was Grian’s sense of touch.

Warm water cradled his limp form like a down blanket. A zap of soreness jolted down his neck, which lied out of the water at an odd angle. Humid wind brushed against his dry, fluffy hair and moved it off his face.

Sound was next. Parrots chittered off in the distance along with the chatter of villagers. Leaves rustled overhead and the breeze wove amongst the branches. Waves lapped at his chest and made small splashing sounds. The tranquility almost lured Grian back to his dreamless sleep.

Last was everything else. Grian’s memory slammed into him like an anvil and his eyes shot open. His gills flared as he shoved himself up. Muscles in his torso protested, but the adrenaline was enough for him to ignore it.

The gills thing, on the other hand, was the source of the adrenaline and couldn’t be rationalized away as easily as waking up in the water. Since when did he have scales or gills? When did this happen? Who did this to him?

“Grian!” Mumbo’s shout yanked him out of his spiral. He turned to him, eyes wide with fear.

“What’s happening to me?”

***********

Grian downed the bottle of viscous vanilla liquid, the latest attempt to turn him human again. His three friends watched expectantly as nothing happened.

“That one tasted better than usual, but I doubt it’ll do much.” Scar groaned and hit his forehead to the spellbook in his hands.

“It’s been four days, and this is going nowhere.” Mumbo and Iskall shared a glance and murmured an agreement.

Grian snorted. “Says people not stuck in a kiddie pool.” He spreads his arms and gives them a dead look. “You think what you’re doing is tedious and boring?”

Scar cringed and shook his head. “It’s not that it’s boring, It’s that...” he trailed off, chewing his lip. Grian looked back and forth between the people before him and scanned their expressions for hints. Mumbo fiddled with his tie and stared at a very interesting pebble on the ground. Iskall glared off into the distance at nothing in particular.

“It’s that what...?”

 Scar sighed and sank down in front of Grian. He held his head in his hands. “I’m worried that if we don’t get a solution soon, you’ll be stuck like this forever and it’ll be my fault.”

Grian pulled up his shoulders and grimaced. The thought crossed his mind. His base was on land. So were the shopping district and nether portals. And his elytra. Despite everything- “I’d manage.” He rests a hand on Scar’s knee. “I don’t blame you for this.”

“But you should!” Scar burst out. He tangled his hands in his hair and gripped like his life depended on it. “I should have done more baseline analysis before jumping into tests, or done more careful observation, something! I caused this, I should be able to fix it! I-”

“Scar,” Iskall cut in, kneeling next to him. Scar’s voice died in his throat. He looked to Iskall. “Please dude, shut up.” Scar recoiled, confusion drawn all over his face. “I shouldn’t have blown up at you. You didn’t see this coming and I shouldn’t have expected you to. You’re doing your best to fix it and that’s what counts.”

He pulled Scar to his feet and gave him a weary grin. “Let’s try again. There are a few combinations we haven’t tried yet.” The two of them returned to Larry, leaving Mumbo behind with Grian.

Grian met Mumbo’s pitiful gaze. He nodded. A message passed between them. An ‘I’m sorry’ went one way. A ‘thank you for trying’ went the other.

**********

Grian built a new megabase in the warm ocean off the jungle coast. He scattered conduits all around the structure so hermits could come to visit.

It’s not the same, and it never would be like before. But with a riptide trident, Grian almost didn’t miss his elytra.

Almost.