#and that this is basically a whole-ass fic at this point lmao

[pixiemage]

I’ve recently re-read your magebound au and was wondering if you had anymore snippets you would be willing share :)/nf

Ahhh hi! I'm glad you enjoyed it!!!

I honestly love that AU so much. I really need to get back to it when I can; there are a LOT of people whose stories I have planned out in my head, I just haven't had time to work on them hah.

That being said, if you're curious to see a character I haven't posted anything for yet, I HAVE been working a little scene in recent weeks for a prompt I got a while back. I made an MCYT Playlist Prompt two months ago, and then I immediately got busy after making it and didn't have time to do it lol...but this request from @i-am-oshawott caught my attention:

[Playlist D, Track 3] Magebound - "My Heart is Split" by Kerrigan Lowdermilk

It's a song I associate with Grian in this AU, for obvious reasons once you listen to it and read what I have written for it so far! <3 Enjoy!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(...)

Grian felt as though perhaps he should be more grateful. If it weren’t for Mumbo, he was sure he never would have survived out there alone in the woods, as injured as he’d been after escaping the Watcher Coven. The fact that someone had found him and brought him to safety was a blessing in and of itself.

The Hermits were kind too, kind and a little kooky…the best kind of company to keep, in Grian’s opinion. Xisuma had been more than welcoming and Stress had been a spot of upbeat and chaotic positivity as she helped him heal. His wings were almost back to flight-ready thanks to False’s advice, and with the potions Joe Hills had been brewing for him, his magical core was finally feeling closer to normal than it had in years.

(Not that it would ever be normal again, as much as he hated to acknowledge it. The experiments the Watcher Coven had performed on him to strengthen his magic in order to better their own…he was sure it was practically irreversible. The most Joe’s potions could do was help him stabilize so he could regain full control over his magic again. For that, he would always be thankful.)

But back to the point…he thought perhaps he should be more grateful for all the Hermits had done for him, all the kindness and care they had provided in his time under their protection. But…something was missing.

Or rather, Grian was missing something.

He missed his home. He missed his flock. He missed the Evolution community and the mages that resided there, the other familiars like him who he had grown up with, and the witches and hybrids that he’d come to call his family. Martyn and BigB and Taurtis and the rest…

And Jimmy and Pearl. Grian heaved a sigh and drew his knees to his chest where he was sitting on the front stoop of Mumbo’s home. He rested his cheek on his knees and gazed unseeingly out over the lawn. He probably missed his siblings the most. Pearl may not have been a blood relative, but she was as close to a sister as he’d ever had, and up until the Watchers had taken him Grian couldn’t remember a day he hadn’t spent alongside his little brother Jimmy.

It had been years since then. Jimmy wasn’t a teenager anymore, was he? He’d probably lost all the juvenile plumage in his familiar form, and Grian hadn’t been there to see it.

…but Jimmy was still alive at least, and for that, Grian would gladly give another thousand days in captivity if it required.

The door creaked open behind him, but Grian didn’t bother moving.

“Oh! Grian! Hullo, I was just about to look for you.” A shadow fell over Grian and he glanced up to see Mumbo leaning over him, a small smile peeking out from beneath his mustache.

“It is lunch already?” Grian asked, wondering how long he’d actually been outside, but Mumbo shook his head.

“Not quite, mate,” he told him. He sidestepped Grian and trotted down the front steps. He must have been working on some invention or another because he was missing his jacket and tie, and Grian could see red smudges on his rolled-up shirtsleeves. “Xisuma just sent me a message. He’s got a surprise for you at the center of the village. C’mon.”

Grian made a face at Mumbo’s extended hand.

“I don’t like surprises,” he whined, his one unbandaged wing slumping against his back. “Can’t you just tell me what it is?”

“Sorry buddy, X didn’t say.” At least Mumbo looked apologetic about it. “I’ll stick with you though. If you wanna duck on out, I can cause a distraction.”

Grian pondered this. It seemed like a fair enough offer. So with a very put-upon sigh Grian took the offered hand, letting Mumbo drag him to his feet amid Grian’s undertone grumbling.

“It had better be a good distraction,” Grian told him flatly after a moment of silent walking. “Lots of flair and pizzaz.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Mumbo nodded. “I can do pizzaz. I’m Mr. Pizzaz. Mr. Mumbo Flair-Pizzaz Jumbo. Master of distraction.”

Grian had to fight against the grin that threatened to overtake his expression.

“Good to know I’ve got an expert,” he quipped, hearing the laughter under his own words. “Does Mr. Pizzaz have a business card? I’d love to recommend you to my friends.”

“Yup! Definitely!” Mumbo said, mirth starting to seep into his voice. “Business cards by the boatload. I could get you one the second we’re back at my place. They’ve got - ya know - glitter, and beveled edges, and everything–”

“Glitter?” Grian gaped at him, finally letting out a proper laugh. “Who puts glitter on business cards?”

“Well - well Mr. Pizzaz, obviously,” Mumbo chuckled brightly, his mustache curling upward with his grin. “Careful around him, it’s infectious. Once you go glitter you never go back–”

Grian snorted and fell into giggles, rolling his eye at his newfound friend. It was a shame they hadn’t met sooner. Their senses of humor were such a perfect fit…and in the aftermath of the horrors he’d endured at the hands of the Watchers, Mumbo had become an unignorable bright spot amid the shadows.

Perhaps Xisuma had seen it from the start. Perhaps he’d placed Grian in Mumbo’s care for that very reason.

They were approaching the center of the village by now, and Grian felt his feathers stand on end against his will. He didn’t like the unpredictable. He used to, he was sure he used to - he was certain surprises once held a good connotation once upon a time - but as it stood the unpredictable had come to mean danger in recent years. The unexpected held too much risk, too much fear. Perhaps Mumbo could tell that his humor had only been a half-successful distraction because the back of his hand brushed against Grian’s, an awkward attempt at comfort.

“Like I said,” Mumbo told him in an undertone, “if you need out you let me know, an’ we’ll go. But whatever X has got planned can’t be bad. Right?”

Grian nodded stiffly. Right. Right. Xisuma had been nothing but kind. They all had, really. He took a deep, shaking breath and tried to reign in his anxiety. He had nothing to fear here. It was called a Sanctuary for a reason.

…voices met his ears. Bright voices. Painfully familiar voices. Grian’s breath caught in his lungs and he swallowed past a lump in his throat, his eyes widening and a fragile, careful hope welling in his chest.

They rounded the corner. Sun-yellow feathers caught his eye, and he froze…and it was suddenly very difficult to breathe.

Jimmy was there by the fountain, taller than the last time Grian had seen him, with shorter hair and longer limbs and a little less of the boyish look he’d had as a teen. His wings were on full display - properly grown in now, though his feathers were just a tiny bit messy - and he was slightly turned away from Grian. He was bickering with Martyn - Martyn - over something Grian couldn’t make out, the feathers around his ears flared. Martyn looked older too, though somehow exactly the same, the same familiar fond exasperation on his face as he spoke with Jimmy that Grian had seen hundreds of times. There was a tension in his brow too, one that matched Jimmy’s, one that matched Pearl’s. Pearl was there too, a rich red traveling cloak hanging around her shoulders that Grian remembered had once belonged to her aunt. She was less animated than Martyn or Jimmy, her arms folded tight over her chest as she chewed on her nails, glancing between them silently.

She was the first to spot Grian.

Pearl’s eyes landed on him and Grian could hear her gasp from across the courtyard, catching the attention of Martyn and then Jimmy in quick succession. They turned to follow her eye and fell immediately silent, their expressions shifting through too many emotions for Grian to even try and decipher. Not that it even mattered. They were here. They were real. They were–

“Grian,” Pearl breathed, and it was like a spell broke.

“Grain!” Jimmy was running toward him in an instant with the others hot on his heels, and Grian met him in the middle on unstable legs. He and his brother crashed together in an engulfing hug on impact, clinging to each other like a lifeline, with the desperation of those who feared the other would vanish if they even dared to let go. Pearl crowded in on the right and Martyn on the left, a warm hand on his shoulder and another on his arm and fingers clinging to the sweater on his back.

Grian sobbed before he even knew he was crying, shaking in Jimmy’s arms and not caring that he was probably leaving damp patches of tears on the shoulder of his brother’s shirt. He didn’t care.

They were here. They were alive. They were okay. It was all worth it.

“I can’t believe it,” Martyn choked out, an emotional laugh in his words. “When they told us they found you, I didn’t - I could hardly believe it. We’ve been looking for so long–”

“Told you he’d make it,” Jimmy said shakily. “I told you. I did. I said–” His breath hitched and his wings shuddered, curling forward around the little group where Grian’s one unbandaged wing had fallen slack. “–I said ‘He’s Grian, he’d never give up. He’s stronger ‘n that.’ And I was right. I was - I was right.”

Grian chuckled wetly, weakly, unsteadily, leaning into his flock and burying himself in the feeling of home.

(...)