#featuring mumbo's jacket

[angeart]

“That’s it. You just rest,” Doc praises. “We’ve got you.”

— Elegy, chapter 5: be my place to land (when my feathers are burnt by the fire)

[giuseppe-yuki]

if you saw me reply to this ask with some unintelligible notes no you didn't (i accidentally pressed post instead of save, panicked, and deleted the ask 😀) luckily i saved a picture of it so crisis averted 🫡

anyways, this is such an adorable concept!

my take down below :)

picture credits from pinterest :)

franco colapinto x orange cat shapeshifter!reader

problem: rain- also known as a cat's biggest fear. as an orange cat!shapeshifter, it only made sense that the fear transferred to your human self too. big fat droplets of water coming from the sky that soaked your entire body, making you cold and miserable? appalling. the loud thundering of the droplets on the ground and the grumbling of thunder in your sensitive ears? overwhelming.

solution: just don't go outside! unfortunately, that just created another problem: as a formula 1 driver, it was kind of necessary that your boyfriend just had to go outside into the wet montreal weather. something about james vowles...media day...meeting...blah blah blah. it was all a bunch of mumbo jumbo in your head anyways.

so there you sat, unbudging, on the plush williams' blue couch of franco's driver room, bundled under at least three blankets while your boyfriend looked upon you, arms crossed.

"come on!" franco groans, trying to pull you off the couch with his extraordinarily strong arms. "let's go! i'm going to be late, and my pr manager is gonna be mad!"

you roll your eyes. did this boy not listen to your 20 minute rant prior about how you were gonna pass away if one single raindrop touched your skin?

"franco," you say pointedly, " like i said before, go without me! i am not about to be leaving this room to be miserable and wet in this canada weather."

"i'll get you an umbrella," franco offers helpfully.

you purse your lips. "wellll.... i already looked and couldn't find one in your driver's room."

that was kind of ridiculous honestly, because how williams managed to not store a single umbrella in the million dollar buildings in rainy montreal, no less, you would never understand. your boyfriend lets out an audible 'hmph' before throwing himself next to you on the couch and attempting to stick his cold feet into the warm bundle of blankets surrounding you. he looked unlikely to get up anytime soon. "what are you doing mister?" you question, trying pushing franco off the couch. "you gotta go!" scooting all the way to the other end of the couch so you can't reach him, he crosses his arms. "well, if you're not going, i'm not either." you let out a incredulous laugh. "baby, this is your literal job- if you don't do it you're gonna get fired!" to this, he just sniffs dismissively and turns his head away from you in a dismissive manner as if he was a little kid.

"no."

a minute of silence passes, with franco pouting on the one side of the couch, trying to ignore your eyes while you stare at your boyfriend with an eyebrow raised. you predict that he will give in the next 30 seconds, like he always does under your glare. the rain still thunders outside, a wet pitter-patter that promises only grief.

you can't ever predict what comes out of his mouth next, though.

"get in my shirt," your boyfriend demands.

your mouth drops open in disbelief.

"excuse me?" you ask slowly, enunciating each syllable. "you wanna repeat that for me?"

now, your boyfriend sometimes said some out-of-pocket stuff by this was a whole new weird.

franco's cheeks turn a dusty pink almost immediately, and he waves his arms in an effort to disperse the situation.

"no! i meant- not my shirt, my jacket- like i mean for you to get in-"

"franco, that's kind of freaky of you to say right now," you say quietly.

he slaps a hand over his rapidly reddening face and mutters, "imeantthatyoushouldturninyourcatformandgetinmyjacketsowecangotogether."

"ohhhh," you respond, realization dawning you. "you want me to climb into your jacket?"

franco nods quickly, relief evident on his features.

"yes, yes, yes, so you don't get wet and i can keep you nice and toasty," he supplies, looking at you for approval.

you squint your eyes at him, thinking, before slowly nodding.

"fine."

he practically beams at you before pushing himself off the couch. reaching up, he starts slowly unzips his jacket just a smidgen suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

god, this man was so unserious.

"franco," you snap, "hurry up and unzip your jacket so i can hop in! you're literally about to be half an hour late to wherever you're supposed to be going!"

your boyfriend huffs in annoyance before unzipping the rest of his jacket and thrusting his arms out for you to jump into.

you shift into your cat form and don't waste a second before leaping into his arms.

you can practically feel the raindrops on franco's raincoat as your boyfriend strolls through the paddock on the way to williams garage. admittedly, it feels quite calming curled up inside his coat, franco's body warmth and faint cologne just about lulling you to sleep. even the usual loud roar of the rain on the roofs of the buildings are muffled by the obstruction around you. your eyes are about to close when suddenly, somebody slaps franco on the back, jolting both him and you.

"franco!" a voice says with a tinge of amusement. "did you eat too much pizza at the hospitality or what?"

using your claws, you climb your way up franco's shirt from underneath his coat, and pop your head out of his collar. it leads to a few droplets of water sliding into your fluffy fur, but you dismiss it, more curious who was doing out in the rain as well.

none other than alex albon stands there, looking real dry under a large umbrella that is now held over franco's head as well. it is proudly labelled "williams racing" in blue lettering. his "pet" cockatiel sits proudly on his shoulder, bouncing up and down in hello when she sees you in franco's collar.

alex laughs when he spots you too.

"ah, i see, just your girlfriend in your coat!" he says, giving you wave.

you give him a loud meow and bare your canines in a smile.

alex smiles back at you kindly.

"so anyways, where ya'll going on this fine day in montreal, canada?" he asks, tilting his head, as if franco wasn't looking like a soggy biscuit with his drenched clothes and the weather didn't look like it was two seconds away from becoming a hurricane.

franco gestures vaguely towards the garages.

"the garages- didn't james tell us to go there like half an hour ago?"

alex laughs. "you're joking right? he didn't send anything out, cause how are you supposed to look at car performance in this weather?"

the both of you recognize the truth in alex's words at the same time. and when the flash of realization and embarassment crosses franco's face, you make sure take a deep breath, because if you don't, you are sure you would have mauled your boyfriend for bringing you all the way out in a storm for nothing.

note: largely unedited ;-;

[wincestdailyheadcanons]

"I think it would do you both good to see each other." Jack says, taking the half empty beer from Dean's hand. 

The smile on Dean's face brightens his features up so much he looked 20 years younger. 

"I get to go be with Sam?" Dean asks. "Finally?" 

Jack shakes his head. "Not yet. It isn't your time." 

Dean scowled, grabbing the bottleback, taking a drink; "Then fuck off. Until I get to be with him again, heaven, hell, wherever, dont you talk to me. It shouldve been me in that barn, not him, and you fucking know it." 

Dean kept his body from shaking, his voice even, but he knew that despite the dim lights of the no name bar, Jack would see the pain 

in his eyes. The hurt, and loneliness in his soul that shined through the green that only Sam had ever been 

able to fill. 

"There's many worlds, Dean." Jack 

said, this time sitting across from Dean. The gesture meaning to show not only empathy, 

but equality. In this moment, he wasnt a God. He was just a guy trying to comfort one of the only fathers he knew. 

"In this world, Sam died. In another you do, in one you go on a different hunt and nothing happens." Dean looked up; "So, youre taking 

me to see a different Sam?" 

Jack nodded; "He's elderly in this world. Time is-" 

Dean held up his hand; "I don't need to hear the mumbo jumbo about time and space, just take me to him." 

Dean blinked, and found himself outside a well maintained brick house with large trees, and a well kept yard. Inside he could hear 

yelling. 

Dean rushed in, moving quickly through the house, and in the living room found a tall man with white hair, and a beard. 

"Why are you in here?!" Sam screamed at a young woman. "I want my brother!" 

"Mr Winchester, I'm your nurse, Hannah, your son asked me to he-" 

Sam grabbed a glass off and raised his hand to throw it. 

"Sammy?" 

Sam instantly responded to Dean's voice, the glass slipping from his fingers, and shattering on the floor. 

"Dean?" Sam asked, stepping forward, his bare feet moving towards the broken shards of glass. His eyes locked with Dean's. Dean and the nurse moved to stop him. 

Dean pushed Sam back onto the couch, ignoring Sam's tears of joy at seeing him. "Missed you, missed you." Sam sobbed, clinging to Dean's Jacket. Dean looked down at his sleeve. Dads leather jacket. Dean caught his reflection in a mirror above the fireplace. He looked how he did in 2005. 

Sam cupped Dean's face pressing their foreheads together. "I wanna go hunting." 

Dean closed his eyes, and sighed, taking in the moment. He hadnt realized he had forgotten what Sam sounded like, how it felt to hear his name come out of Sam's mouth, 

forgotten what it felt like to be home again. 

"Okay, Sammy." Dean obviously wasnt going to take Sam on a hunt but still the lie that he was a family friend, Sam's son had asked to come over was believed easy enough by the nurse. 

For the next two days, Dean took care of Sam. Fed him, bathed him, walked around the yard with him. Mostly though, they just talked. 

Sam seemed to be confused about what year it was, he mentioned Stanford alot. That was probably why Jack had sent Dean like this. 

"You wanna go for a ride in the car?" Dean asked, having found the keys hidden in a drawer and Sam immediately lit up, nodding. 

Dean took Sam to an empty field, 

and watched the stars. Dean clinked their beer bottles together. Sam didnt even notice his was non alcoholic. He just smiled; "Cheers, jerk." 

"Cheers, bitch." 

That night, Dean helped Sam into bed. Something in his gut told him Sam's reaper wasn't far off. Dean pulled up a chair to sit by 

Sam, and held his hand, squeezing it gently. He understood why Jack had brought him here. In the barn, there had been no time to say goodbye. The attack had happened 

so fast, so violently, Dean didn't 

have a chance to say anything to Sam. 

This was his chance. Dean kissed Sam's wrist;, "I am so very proud of you, how strong, and smart you are. How you never took any of Dads crap.”

Sam's eyes softened, he looked so tired. Dean continued. "You've always kept fighting, and I know how hard that had to have been for you." Sam closed his eyes, starting to drift off into sleep, a soft smile on his face. "Love you, De." 

"I love you so much, my baby brother." 

After a bit, Dean laid Sam's hand down, and stood, walking towards the door to sleep on the couch. "Goodnight." Sam called gently. 

"Night, Sammy." 

The next morning, he left before Sam woke up, catching Sam's son, who he had learned shared a name with him at the front door.

"Take good care of him." Dean smiled, chuckling to himself at the young man's confusion. 

"Do-do I know you?" He asked. 

Dean shrugged, and walked down the sidewalk. 

Dean Jr walked inside, setting his bag down on the floor in his old bedroom, before going to his dads room. 

"Hey, Dad." He said pulling a chair up. "Your nurse just left. He seemed pretty cool.”

There was a small framed picture beside the bed of his dad when he was younger, beside him sat the uncle he knew, but never met. He 

picked up the frame, analyzing it then looked 

towards the door. There was no way, no possible way.- 

But they were both wearing the same necklace... 

"Do I know you?" He had asked the man. 

"My big brother came and visited me." Sam told him. "We drove in the Impala" He smiled, stroking the amulet around his neck. "It was fun.”

[angelbunny-arts]

Behold,,,,. Every hermit design I’ve created over the past year and a bit: with heights and chibi versions of wings included>:D

Species, fun Details and height sorted version under the cut !!

- Grian

A parrot avian in some universes, a shapeshifted watcher in others, it’s a 50/50 which one I decided to go with

Avians in my mind take on the wing patterns of a bird they connect with, which usually happens at around 18-23. Instead of facial hair they grow feathers around their cheeks and in their hair.

His earring is a present from mumbo ^^

The gold detailing on his wings have the watcher symbol and suns on it, and his shoes have suns too! (why suns you may ask? “Grian” is the Irish word for sun, and according to my myth/history nerd friend there was an Irish sun goddess named Grian)

-Mumbo jumbo

An albino enderman

He dyes his hair because it looks cool, you can see a bit of his natural roots

A feather keychain on his belt from Grian

- GtwScar

A half-allay

He’s got heterochromia with the HOTGUY colours>:)

His ears and canine teeth are rounded! In contrast to half-vexes who’s features are sharper

Him and cub have matching vex magic earrings

His design is probably the one that keeps to the original skin the least, but it also happens to be one of my favourites to draw so

- Cubfan

A half-vex

I don’t have much to say here, he’s just kinda silly? I suppose there’s the fact that I decided that convex gets a diamond as their shape, so he’s got some of that detailing

He was originally supposed to have glasses however I am terrible at remembering glasses even though I wear them so they just kinda vanished

His hair is probably one of the most fun to colour too:D

- Geminitay

An elf (the antlers are accessories)

She’s got a whole bunch of little leaves everywhere:DD and some cute gold detailing too, otherwise a pretty simple design with not much to say on it

-impulse

Just a regular dude tbh he’s just a guy/pos

He’s got five visible places where I’ve snuck an “i” on him (but there’s one more on the bottom of his shoes)

The yellow In his hair also matches with my skizz, who has blue in his hair

- Pearl

Either a human or an avian, it’s another 50/50 and depends on what I went for with Grian as well if I have him included

If I go the avian route, her wings are small and usually kept under her jacket.

The moon detailing changes with the moon phase! Her hair also gets more floaty depending on how full the moon is

The knot on her shirt is in the shape of a moth

- Tango

A soot fairy, they’re known for working with and manipulating fire and creating machinery.

He’s got heels and he’s absolutely slaying. That’s really it I can’t pick my favourite detail it’s all fantastic. Look at it

I looked at fire/firemen vests for his jacket? That’s a fun fact

- Docm77

A creeper/goat hybrid

There’s like.. so many butterfly motifs on this man it’s fantastic. I also love the horizontal pupil

He looks like a mix between a tired dad and a mad scientist, which was initially not what I was going for but I’m keeping it

————

And, as promised, the height check (for people that are the same height I put whoever looked taller first)

(also disclaimer I made most of these heights up and are not accurate to the ccs)

[secondhand-elytra]

#101: Santalune City Theme

Id: A drawing of Mumbojumbo and Grian from the back. Mumbo is shown as a pale human in a black tailcoat, dress pants, and vest. He has white sleeves. His hair is about shoulder length and black. Grian is shown as a robin hybrid, featuring wide brown wings that are partially out of frame, as well as a brown feathered tail and two feathers stuck behind his ear. He wears a very baggy red jacket and black pants. They are walking away from the camera through the darkness, their shadows laid on some sort of blue background. Grian is reaching out one hand to grab for mumbo, a smile on his half shadowed face. Mumbo has one hand on his hip and the other held up as if to wave Grian off, but he is boxed in by Grian's wings. He doesn't seem that worried about it. /end id

[atherix]

Soo, A few more characters description questions

In midnight what do Scott and Jimmy look like (like what do they normally wear)

And. What do the watcher gods look like or are they just kinda shadowy thjngs?

Also, could you give some character descriptions of Joe, lizzy, bdubs, doc and cleo, if you don't mind. And heights of the characters?

*I know I'm probably forgetting g someone and I need to reread midnight but I've been super busy

Hmmmmmmm this is a long post so I'll put it below the cut <3

Jimmy is "from a farm in Tumble Town" (supposedly) so likes to dress the part... though he does it, uh. Badly. Think button up, bluejean jacket and bluejeans that clash horribly, brown cowboy boots with the stirrups removed, a ten gallon hat that Scott is constantly hiding so he won't wear it in front of people, a red handkershief around his throat- he's an absolute mess, not a shred of fashion sense to him. Scott, on the other hand, is absolutely fabulous. He wears colorful clothes, semi-formal style. Think suit without the jacket in shades of purple, and black dress shoes that are always shined to perfection. He also has his pale blue hair (ofc, he's Scott Smajor <3) and heterochromia, with an amber eye and a blue eye. They have matching wedding rings, gold <3 Jimmy is, of course, short as most Avians are- he's a few inches taller than Grian, at least. Meanwhile, Scott is around the same height as Scar, maybe just slightly shorter than him.

Watcher gods are.... in a way they're shapeshifters. We haven't seen their true forms but we will one day, but there's a reason in Grian's POV I describe him as "feeling like his skin is turning to molten glass." Watcher gods typically wear purple cloaks that completely hide their features, and will often hide in a humanoid facade (just as Grian is doing now), but their true forms are... unfathomable. I actually described one in Midnight Alley as;

" He doesn’t really know what he’s seeing. It’s unexplainable- incomprehensible, even. It’s not human though it wears long, flowing robes, and its four, six, nine wings are made of feathers that are both fire and ice, sharp yet flickering. They drip like liquid- like ichor- and are black and white and gold and violet all at once yet not at all. Crowns, many crowns, dance around and eyes- eyes, so many eyes- stare back at him, so many eyes he can’t figure out where the eyes end and the being begins.

It has two, four, seven arms yet none, shifting and malleable as it moves closer. It reaches out a hand, slowly- a hand that melts into a human-like shape, like spun glass and flowing magma. "

Joe... how to even describe Joe. He's Joe. I mean- like. Yeah. Joe is Joe. I don't even know how to describe him. He's the most human human to have ever human'd while somehow being so completely not human. Like. He's just a Dude™ but like. To the left. He's pretty average height, a bit shorter than Scar I'd think- so about Scott's height.

Lizzie has a few different forms, as a shapeshifter, but her human form is just... Lizzie. She has pink hair and more often than not her ears are cat ears, hidden under her hair. She likes to experiment with her style, though she likes Cute styles. As a humanoid-cat she's a pink, black and white calico! Of course she's also a pink, black and white calico in straight-up cat form but still. She's also pretty short, being a cat shapeshifter, somewhere between Jimmy and Scott's height. Bonus Joel, Lizzie's changeling husband. He's tall. Like not quite Mumbo tall but pretty close. He's a button-up and dress pants type man, wanting to look good for his wife and all that. He sometimes has a beard, sometimes he shaves it off.

BDubs is, again... he's BDubs. His style changes day to day, shifting between traditional Elven and traditional Vampire and then sometimes he's a T-shirt and jeans type of guy, but he always- ALWAYS, no exceptions- has his moss-woven cloak. Oh! He also has semi-long hair, nowhere near as long as Scar's but definitely around his shoulders, but even so he generally keeps his hood up when not at home. He's short, which is EXTREMELY abnormal for an Elf. No one knows what happened (that's a lie, I know and Belle knows if they remember). BDubs is just as short as Grian, if not an inch or two shorter.

Doc is Doc! He's a creeper hybrid (I may also allow him to be a goat hybrid as well, so maybe a creeper-goat hybrid) with prosthetics. While he was in his coven he was forced to dress in traditional Vampire clothes- like basically mourning suit, pretty much. Once he's out of there and recovering (in Xisuma's Coven, btw) and finding his own style again, he experiments but is almost always found with an open lab coat. Because I love him for that. He's around the same height as Scott, I believe.

Cleo... Cleo my queen... she's a Zombie hybrid Vampire so she has her classic green skin and red eyes, with fiery red hair that may or may not change into snakes when her Vampire magic starts to take over and changes her into her less human, more monstrous form :) But they definitely have a super classy classic Vampire style; beautiful, stunning gowns (some ripped almost to shreds in very aesthetically pleasing locations, some sleek, all beautiful) and stunning, absolutely gender-envy-inducing suits.... I am love they. Also, they are tall. Like. I mean tall. They're taller than Mumbo, in fact. Not by much, mind you, she's maybe got two inches at best on him but by god I fucking love tall Cleo and y'all can pry them from my cold fingers <3

That is perfectly understandable, hope you get through everything you need to do!! <3

[wren-kitchens]

midnight ramblings

I was looking through my wips and found this so here you go lmao

it’s set (obviously) in s8, scarian, if you can think of any tws I need to put please tell me!

“I think we might die.”

grian and scar are perched precariously on the roof of the swaggon, occasionally having to pull the other back onto the flatter part of the slippery copper. the moon is big—hardly a fraction of what it’ll soon be—but big, and the blocks are flying too high for comfort, and grian hasn’t slept for weeks, and the world is in disarray.

scar had come to grian’s house a few hours prior, babbling about something to do with bdubs and the moon’s child and sacrifices that grian just couldn’t make out. but scar looked upset and scared, and grian knew that why he was feeling that couldn’t be helped or changed. 

so, because there was nowhere else really to go, grian brought scar up to the roof and tried to distract him. and it’s worked, they’re distracting each other (because scar of course noticed how equally terrified grian is of all this) very well. but grian is far to tired to filter himself properly, and to be fair it doesn’t seem like they have a lot of time left. so he says it.

scar scoffs a little. “you think, huh?”

grian is laying on his front, staring at midnight alley. “i’m fairly certain.”

“gee, what gave you that idea?” scar asks sarcastically. grian’s noticed that in situations where scar is scared, he typically reverts to sarcasm. he reckons it’s a way of deflecting. “couldn’t be the moon hurtling towards us, could it?”

“no, it’s the fact that we’re on a slippery roof.” grian says. “of course it’s the moon, scar.”

scar is quiet for a moment, and his voice is heartachingly small when he speaks. “why do you think this is happening, g?”

grian sighs. he wishes he could hold scar close and tell him it’s okay, that he can fix it. “I don’t know.” he admits. “I wish I did.”

“mumbo doesn’t.” scar says. “that much is clear.”

grian chuckles. “yeah. I should sleep at some point, whatever he’s doing isn’t working.”

“it’s a good phantom farm at least.” scar says. “i’ll give him that.”

“and the redstone on the statues is cool. or was, when it worked.” grian grins.

“yeah.” scar laughs along. 

grian looks at him. his eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles. under them are dark smudges, not nearly as big as grian’s but still promenant. his hair is starting to grow shaggy, his suit jacket a little unkempt, skin stained with dirt and oxidised rust from the copper. 

he is, despite it all, beautiful. 

under the silvery light of the bulbous moon, scar looks ethereal. the way it floods his features akin to water over a marble statue makes grian’s heart swell. if grian were to die right now, with this image as the last thing he sees, he wouldn’t mind.

scar turns to him and grins. “taking in the view or about to fall asleep?”

“neither.” grian says easily. “debating whether or not to push you down the roof.” 

“hey!” scar pouts and grian bursts out laughing.

“okay, okay, you’re very handsome and i’m sorry for wanting to push you.” grian smiles. 

“too right I am.” scar says. “you’re very handsome too.” he adds, a softer note to his voice.

“why, thank you.” grian preens.

scar smiles at him, gaze lingering. grian watches as his eyes flicker up and down, from his eyes to his lips and back again. grian finds himself wanting to push his body into scar’s, be held by him until the end of time, scar’s hand in his hair and lips against his forehead.

grian sits up. “come over here, for a moment?”

scar’s eyes narrow with suspicion, but must notice the shy tone in grian’s voice as he nods, and shuffles up the roof to grian. grian immediately climbs into his arms.

“you’re like jellie.” scar chuckles, jokily petting his hair. “what’s up?”

“too tired to figure that out.” grian decides, face buried in scar’s suit jacket. “I wanted to hug you. you’re a very huggable person.”

“I get that a lot.” scar says, like he’s surprised. 

“anyone ever tell you you’re a very kissable person either?” grian smiles to himself.

“I- well, as a joke, I suppose.” scar says, starting to stumble over his words in the endearing way he does when he’s embarrassed. “why?”

grian pulls back and plants a kiss on scar’s nose. “‘cause you are.” he kisses his cheeks, grinning. 

he knows if he wasn’t sleep deprived to the point of it being a medical emergency, he would no way have the confidence to do this. but he mentally thanks mumbo for making this weird cult thing, because it’s lead to the rare treat of seeing scar flustered.

scar’s face fills with colour, and his eyes widen. if grian looks carefully, he can see that scar’s pupils are a little wider than normal.

“oh- oh, g, you’re. you’re very kind.” scar stammers. “I, um. thank you.”

grian’s face must visibly light up, because scar quickly adds, “whatever you’re thinking, mister, don’t do it.”

“scar,” grian says. “would you object to me kissing you.” 

grian doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone more flustered than scar is right now. 

“I- well, I mean-“ scar is looking around frantically, avoiding grian’s gaze. “that, um. that’s an interesting question, i’m not-“

“scar, yes or no.” grian is starting to doubt his judgement. what if he was wrong, and scar doesn’t love him back, and he’s just ruined their friendship, and-

grian’s internal litany of impending doom is cut off when scar says,

“i- I don’t think i, ah. would object to that.”

grian blinks. “really?” he asks, poorly hiding his excitement.

“well, I mean,” scar turns and finally looks at grian. his expression is heartachingly shy. “you’re a pretty kissable person too.”

grian inhales. “oh.” 

“sorry, um. to clarify, do- do you love me?” scar asks, blushing at himself. “‘cause I don’t want to assume or anything.” he adds quickly. “not that it’s bad if you don’t- it’s okay if you don’t, obviously. I wouldn’t wanna pressure you into saying something you don’t believe or-“

grian presses a quick kiss to scar’s lips. when he pulls away, he grins shyly.

scar stares at him for a moment. “is- is that a hint for me to stop talking?” he asks.

“yes, because I can’t get a word in edgeways.” grian tells him. “how else am I supposed to say yes?”

“oh.” scar’s voice is ever so soft, and he’s looking at grian like he’s only the person alive, and it’s all too much for his sleep deprived brain but he’s so happy.

“if we die,” grian says. “will I be able to go out, calling you my boyfriend?”

“only if I can call you mine.” scar smiles, like he’s surprised at just how well this night is going. 

“then i’d say we have a deal.” grian says, burying himself in scar’s embrace again. 

“g.” scar says gently. 

“mhm?”

“we should sleep.”

grian reluctantly looks up. “I think you’re right.”

“I don’t think we should sleep here.” scar says. 

“scar,”

“yeah?”

“i’m too tired to move.” grian says.

“you nightmare.” scar says, so fond it almost breaks grian’s heart. “alrighty mr birdie, let’s get you to bed.”

scar opens his elytra, before scooping grian up in his arms. 

“i’m only sleeping if you stay with me.” grian says, eyes already drooping shut.

“i’m not leaving you, g.” scar assures him.

“i’m going nowhere.”

[bluedragonfairy2000]

For those who are wondering it since it takes place in last life those other people back there are all the people that Grian has ever cared about in the life games, or at least had deep regrets over losing, the list goes as follows:

3rd life Scar (who he spent the entire season with, even when he completed his goal and didn’t have to stay with him anymore, ultimately he had to kill him to win the game)

Last Life Mumbo (First off its Mumbo, secondly it the same boat as 3rd life Scar, stayed with Grian for most of the game and in the end Grian had to kill him, this time not because he had to win the game, but in self-defense as Mumbo and Jimmy had turned red and attacked him, causing him to fight back.)

Double Life BigB (His secret soulmate, also accidentally killed him when he killed Ren. Also it’s pretty telling that 3rd Life Scar and Double Life BigB are in Grian’s regret void, but not his actual soulmate Double Life Scar, maybe the artist didn’t want to draw Scar twice, but that seems like an intentional choice to me.

Finally Limited Life Joel and Jimmy. (The Bad Boys, the three of them had been a trio all season, and this time Grian wasn’t the cause of either of their deaths, but the fact that he keeps his bad boy jacket one for the last session of the game, makes me think that’s a solid choice.)

Now while Secret Life is featured here, I think it would either have no one in the regret vault this time, due to the fact that it took Grian to form alliances this season, or it would be ZombieCleo and Etho, maybe even Bdubs depending on how close they got in there limited time together. But yeah if I had to pick anyone for the regret vault this time, it would be Cleo and Etho.

Set after Limited Life session 7

[wheeeee-dot-png]

more art :]

[ image 1 id : concept drawings for rendog and docm77, with ren on the left and doc on the right. each feature a headshot for their respective character, with doc’s being uncolored. ren’s full body art has an energetic pose. his hair is brown streaked with blacks and greys, tied back in a bun. he wears three layers, a turtleneck under the machinery at his chest, a red button up, and a white jacket that rests on his shoulders rather than being actually worn. he wears a deep red fingerless glove on his left arm, and both his right arm and leg is mechanical, having nothing on it. 

doc’s full body has a open armed, but more mellow pose. his hair is black, with shades of green for his skin. his hair sweeps to his right, and he has a short beard. half his face is metal, with the robotic half of his face possessing a red eye and a horn that curves inward. that  same metal covers part of his neck and presumably onto his chest, and his right arm. he wears a dark grey long sleeved shirt with the sleeves half rolled up, with a tattered white lab coat over it, as well as dark blue tattered pants. he also wears a sort of green crocs, adapted to be worn on hooves rather than human feet. his left hand has pads on them, similar to an animals ‘toe beans’]

[ image 2 id : a low quality drawing of mumbo jumbo sitting in a microwave. the only color in the art is on his tie, colored a vibrant red, and the rest is shades of grey, white, and black. mumbo sits with his legs stretched outward and his hands at his side, his head tilted down. he has a blank look in his eyes, them being only a dot for each. the time on the microwave says 00:00. there’s text on the top and bottom of the drawing saying ‘if you’re cold, he’s cold. put him in the microwave’.]

[quaranmine]

take (his) life

Grian told Mumbo they could still be friends even though he was on red. Mumbo knows how he can save him.

at long last! here, have another angsty Last Life oneshot I wrote featuring the Southlands instead of doing my very overwhelming amount of college work. It's based off of a post I wrote a few days ago with a few modifications. I'll link it in a reblog. Spoilers for Last Life session four.

Words: 2068

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Mumbo couldn’t get it out of his head. It looped around and around in his brain, breaking through at random moments and throwing him violently back up there, on the cobblestone platform in the nether. For the past several hours, he had felt like he was walking around only half-present, with one foot in cold reality and the other stuck in the past.

Why had he thought a ghast farm was a good idea anyway?

When he returned to the Southlands afterwards, he’d had to tell them the story. They’d seen it in their communicators already, but they wanted to know what had happened to their friend. They wanted to know how it happened. Mumbo told them, but it didn’t lessen the weight on his shoulders any.

He told them, but he didn’t tell them about what had happened after. He didn’t tell them about when Grian came back and collected his things--minus the TNT Mumbo had declined to give back--that he’d also climbed the ladder again and tried to kill Mumbo.

What hurt Mumbo the most was how half-hearted it had been. Grian had just stood in front of him, close to tears, and saying they could still be friends. Mumbo just watched him mine the blocks and took a step back when he needed to. Grian didn’t hit him with a sword or axe, or try to shoot him off the platform, or set off TNT, or even mine particularly haphazardly. He seemed desperate and heartbroken and . . . lonely. So very lonely. It was like he didn’t even really want to hurt Mumbo, but was just hoping Mumbo would stand there and let it happen. He said he didn’t expect Mumbo to volunteer for death, but he’d given Mumbo several opportunities to. When he left, he’d told Mumbo enough blood had been shed that day.

Mumbo knew the next time he saw Grian it was unlikely he’d be so restrained. So long as he was on red, their friendship didn’t exist. He just wasn’t himself. He wasn’t Grian. Mumbo couldn’t be around him anymore. Grian wanted to still be friends, but Mumbo couldn’t, not at the cost of his own life. This was a game of survival, and Grian hadn’t.

When Grian left, Mumbo just sat on the cobblestone and cried and cried and cried, letting the heat of the nether dry his tears into sticky streaks on his cheeks.

Mumbo didn’t sleep well last night. He didn’t think anyone in the Southlands had, honestly. When the sun set they had all hastily made excuses and gone to their towers, skipping the usual friendly banter they normally filled the evenings with. It just didn’t seem right; the loss of Grian was like a hole torn into the Southlands. Mumbo stayed in his bunker and pretended to sleep until dawn, when he could pretend that the crowing of roosters in the distance had been what really woke him and not his nightmares.

When Mumbo left his bunker, he found the dawn was cold and hazy, with a low fog around the forest. Mumbo drew his jacket closer to himself, torn as it was. Martyn had apparently woken up early too, and was standing on top of the wall looking out into the forest with his spyglass. Mumbo climbed up after him.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, and Martyn startled at the sound. Mumbo got the idea that he’d interrupted some sort of personal reflection.

“Hey Mumbo,” he said. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“What are you looking at?” Mumbo asked.

“I’m just keeping an eye out,” Martyn replied slowly. “Just in case anybody tries to come in.”

The fog was too heavy to see anything, and the dense canopy of the mushroom forest obscured any other sightlines. Martyn may have been watching the forest, but he certainly wasn’t seeing anything. Mumbo decided not to bring that up.

“I’ll keep you company until Jimmy and Impulse wake up.” We don’t need to talk. I can just stand right here.

Together they stayed in heavy silence, watching as the sky lighted from dusty pink into a fiery orange. The fog was a little more patchy by the time they heard bustling from within the base, and descended the wall to say good morning. Impulse was fortifying a section of the wall, while Jimmy stood behind him rambling about something Mumbo wasn’t paying attention to. It seemed, well, normal, which stabbed him through the heart a little bit. He had a vision of the future: of he and the other Southerners farming sugarcane, mining, passing around spy glasses, troubleshooting potion brewing, pulling off heists, spying, moving on as normal--all without Grian. It wasn’t right. Grian deserved to be there with them.

It’s my fault he isn’t. Maybe if I’d seen Joel faster, or insisted Grian not work so close to the edge, or listened when he said it was all a bad idea, maybe this would be different--

“So.” Martyn began as they stood in a circle, now four and not five. “Do we still pass the lives around? Now that Grian’s. . .”

“I think we should,” Jimmy said solemnly. “We . . . should keep the tradition alive. It’ll help us.”

“Maybe we need something to strengthen us a little, keep us close,” Impulse said sadly. “It’s been rough.” Impulse hadn’t even been there to see Grian’s death message, and the Southerners had been the ones to break the news to him when he came back from traveling around the far edge of the map. It wasn't fun and Mumbo dreaded the possibility of breaking any more bad news like that in the future.

“What about you, Mumbo?” Martyn asked.

Mumbo thought about the life passing. Their ultimate little trust exercise in a world where you couldn’t even trust your own friends half the time due to the Boogeyman. He was on yellow now, so he couldn’t initiate it anymore like he had the first time around. He was only one life away from being red, and therefore out of the group if he gave it away.

He was one life away from being red, but vice-versa a red was only one life away from being yellow.

A plan was starting to form in his mind. “I think we should do it!” Mumbo blurted, suddenly nervous. “I uh, I agree with Impulse. We should still pass the lives around.”

Mumbo could save Grian.

He could bring him back, and they’d still be friends. All he had to do was accept the life when someone passed it to him, and give it to Grian instead of the next person in line. Surely receiving a life would put Grian back into his right mind. Grian would know that he was allowed back, and they’d just be a little more careful next time. Mumbo would be breaking the point of the trust exercise by stealing someone else’s life but . . . he thought maybe this was a forgivable offense. It was for the greater good of the group. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, isn’t that what they always say?

And if it wasn’t a forgivable offense, well, at least he would have Grian back, right?

“It’s your turn to initiate, Martyn,” Impulse said. “I did it last time.”

“Alright, alright,” Martyn said. “Jimmy, you’re up first.” He passed his life to Jimmy in a shower of dark green sparks. The force of it ruffled his hair a bit.

Impulse was next, but Mumbo was deep in thought. He would receive the life, and then with enough focus, pass it to Grian instead. It was harder, because he could tell Grian was farther away, but he was confident he could do it. It would be instantly noticeable when Mumbo turned yellow again but, but--he’d just say it was a mistake. That he did it instinctually, because he was so used to Grian being a part of their little circle that he just sent the life to him next without thinking. The truth was, Mumbo was doing quite a lot of thinking, and it was obvious. He was surprised nobody had mentioned his nervousness yet. He put his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking.

Receiving a life always felt euphoric. It was warm and intoxicating, filling you up from the inside and showering you with light. It made you feel like you could run a little farther, breathe a little easier, or sleep a little deeper. Mumbo basked in it for a moment as Impulse passed it to him.

Giving a life away stung. You were giving part of your soul to someone else, afterall. It was a cold and hollow feeling and it always left Mumbo a little disoriented. It was time now. Mumbo concentrated, finding Grian in the distance.

And . . . he offered up the newest piece of his soul.

Instantly noticeable.

Martyn stared at him. “Mumbo, what did you just do?” he asked slowly.

“I-”

“He’s on yellow again,” Jimmy observed. “But I didn’t see any sparks?”

“That’s because I didn’t receive the life,” Martyn said, confused and a little desperate. “Mumbo, who did you give it to?!”

“Guys . . .” Mumbo stammered. He felt lightheaded. “I-I just gave it to Grian. It was an accident, I just did it out of habit, you know he’s supposed to be here with us-”

“An accident?” Impulse asked, and Mumbo’s heart pounded harder. He wasn’t a very good liar. They were going to catch him. How could he honestly pretend to have forgotten Grian wasn’t a part of the circle anymore when his absence was the loudest thing in the base?

“That was my life, you know!” Martyn cried.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” Mumbo winced. He hadn’t wanted to damage any relationships. “But . . . Grian can come back now, can’t he? Can’t he? He’s not red anymore. We can take him back, and we can get him out of there and he doesn’t have to be around those other red lives anymore. We can bring him home.”

Martyn sighed. “You could’ve asked me, you know. That wasn’t your life to give.”

Mumbo’s ears felt hot. He looked at his feet.

“But Grian can come back,” Martyn continued softly. “I think . . . I think we all want him back. I’m still mad though.”

Grian could come back. It was going to be okay.

“I can go get him--” Mumbo started, but he was interrupted by a shower of green light washing over Martyn. “I can . . . wait, what happened?”

Martyn was dark green again.

“He gave it back,” Jimmy said. “Grian passed Martyn’s life back to him.”

“Why would he give it back?” Mumbo wondered. “Why would he--why would he give up his chance?”

“He completed the circle,” Impulse said softly.

“I would have let him keep it,” Martyn said. “I can’t lie, I didn’t want to lose my life. I don’t like that you took it from me either, Mumbo but--I would have let him keep it.”

“Why would he give up his chance?” Mumbo repeated.

“No, no wait--” Jimmy interrupted. “How did he know that Martyn was next in line? Is he watching us?”

“I don’t understand why he gave it back. It just doesn’t make sense. He could’ve come back to the Southlands, right? He told- he told me that he wanted to still be friends, he wanted me to join the reds, but I got him back, I saved him, why would he throw it away--”

“Mumbo,” Impulse said, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Try to calm down. I don’t know what he was thinking. But I know he appreciated the offer. He had the clarity as a yellow life to give it back. Maybe . . . maybe think of it this way: he wanted to protect us, so he gave us back the life as another chance for us. It makes the Southlands stronger.”

“We aren’t stronger without him!”

“He told me we weren’t on his list,” Jimmy said. “Maybe it was meant to be a protection.”

Or maybe it was meant to be a betrayal. A hundred things ran through Mumbo’s head.

Maybe Grian didn’t care about the Southlands, or maybe he liked the Red Team better.

Maybe Grian was throwing away their friendship.

Maybe Grian wanted to murder; maybe he found it fun.

Maybe Grian . . . maybe Grian just wanted to be one step closer to death.

The piece of soul Mumbo had given away ached a little harder.

[greyias]

FIC: Chance Encounters - Chapter 10

Title: Chance Encounters Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight (pre-relationship) Rating: T Genre: Canon Divergent AU. Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Even the smallest change can have large, unseen ripple effects. When Theron Shan books a voyage on the Esseles, he has no idea how a chance encounter with a Jedi Knight will change the course of his life. A canon divergent alternate universe examining what happens when Theron and the Hero of Tython meet much, much sooner. Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

If there was anything to be said about Theron’s unorthodox exit strategy, it was that their landing was mostly a soft one. And wet. And made an unpleasant squelching noise that was probably going to follow him even longer than the smell.

On the more humorous side, Theron might have finally found a foolproof way to pierce Grey’s cheery optimism. As they stumbled and slid down the pile of refuse, the look she fixed on him was caught somewhere between pure disgust and haughty indigence.

“You did that on purpose!” The fire in her eyes might have been more intimidating if her tone hadn’t come out a pure pout. The image of pure indigence was accentuated by the delicate trail of an unidentified substance slowly trickling down the side of her face.

“Saving us from certain capture, excruciating torture, and death? Yes, I think that was on purpose.”

“You pushed me!”

“You were being too slow!” He insisted, which only caused the heat in her glare to increase tenfold. Instinct had him backing up a few steps. “And in my defense, you pushed me with your mumbo jumbo back in engineering.”

“That’s different.” She sniffed indignantly at him before getting a whiff of the incredible smell wafting off them both; her face turned a shade greener.

“You know you have a little something here.” He mimed swiping across his forehead.

Her nose crinkled in annoyance, causing that same smattering freckles to scrunch together again. That, combined with the indignant noise that escaped her throat, nearly did him in. As it was, he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing — which was a mistake, as he got a small taste of the muck and yeah. Okay. Maybe he deserved that a little.

“Look on the bright side,” he said.

“What bright side?”

“You can’t smell the whiskey that was spilled on me anymore.”

Somehow, this seemed to only make her look even more aggrieved. “That’s your bright side?”

“I mean, for me.”

She snorted out a long breath that made her nostrils flare out, and he didn’t think it was all due to irritation this time. “This is not funny, Theron!”

“I’m not laughing!” He insisted, although it was probably not altogether too convincing, as she looked like a leaf-tail whose cheeks were stuffed with cyanoberries.

“You must be the most infuriating person I have ever met!”

For all the heat in her words, she didn’t really sound angry, more… confused. Which was an emotion he had become well acquainted with ever since she had sat down next to him on the Esseles. 

“Likewise.” He found himself saying.

For a long moment they just stood there, looking at each other with tense expressions that veiled a tangled mess of emotions like a thicket of nettles. Then she sighed, the anger bled from her features, leaving her looking tired. 

“We should probably find a way out of here.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Probably.”

The walk back to the hangar bay was mercifully short and uneventful. They tried to make themselves halfway presentable with some cleaning cloths Theron had stashed in an inner pocket. His beloved jacket would definitely have to be laundered — but he had no clue if the rest of his ensemble would be savable. Someone was definitely going to be paying for his dry cleaning bill. Theron just didn’t know who that would be yet.

Just as he was musing whether he could finagle expensing the whole thing to the SIS without getting an earful from the Director about excessive costs, they rounded the last corner to the hangar bay. However, instead of the wide-open door they’d left, a shimmering red force field blocked their path.

“What the—?”

He was cut off as a figure slammed into the force field from the other side, hitting it so hard that he bounced off and hit the floor with a grunt. With a start, he recognized it as one of the security guards that had accompanied them here. Beyond the pulsating red glow of the barrier, they could only watch as a small squadron of troopers and a figure in a dark hooded robe attacked Asara and the rest of the security team.

Blaster fire rang out as the Esseles crew exchanged fire with the Imperials. In the distance, two more security guards flew up in the air as if being lifted by an invisible force. Theron hesitated only a moment before rushing to the controls on the door, drawing his slicer spike.

“There’s no time for that!” Grey grabbed his wrist and tugged him out of the way.

Before he could even question her, her lightsaber was already in hand. It blazed to life in a burst of blue and she skewered the entire panel with the controls. With a loud pop, the panel sparked and died, and the force field blocking the hangar faded away.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to slice open a door.”

Grey took a precious moment to give him a disgusted look for the poor joke before sprinting off into the hangar, lightsabers in hand. He was right on her heels, his blasters already drawn.

The scene that greeted them as they entered the hangar was one of pure chaos. Acrid smoke wafted up from the surfaces and bodies where blaster fire had found its mark. The final security guard slumped to the floor with a hole in his chest as the hooded figure turned to the disguised Asara, who had been flung to the ground during the battle, and now was desperately crawling backwards to put space between her and their attackers.

The hood obscured the face of the tall, robed figure as his arm stretched out, hand clenching the air dramatically, as if he were grabbing hold of a great unseen weight. Asara let out a choked cry as something yanked her upwards, her eyes going wide as she clawed at her throat to get some air. The figure’s head cocked to the side, as if able to hear — or maybe just sense — their approach and whirled around in one swift move, hand still in the air as Asara struggled helplessly.

The Sith, because what else could he be, was young, probably not any older than Theron, if that. However, his sickly gray pallor made him look aged beyond his years. An expression of what could only be described as glee lit up in his red eyes as his gaze fell on the Jedi rapidly advancing on him. With a positively feral grin, he threw Asara aside, eager to toy with his new prey. The ambassador landed in an ungraceful pile on the floor.

“At last,” the Sith’s words dripped with both venom and anticipation, “Kilran promised me an actual challenge, but I was thinking he wouldn’t deliver.”

Theron slid a look over at Grey, but her gaze didn’t waver from their new opponent. If this was her first time facing off against a user of the dark side, she didn’t let it show, as she had slipped back into that calm, unyielding mask of hers.

“I would ask that you set your weapon aside,” she said in an even, measured tone. “We can settle this peacefully if you let it.”

The Sith let out a loud snort of derision. “Peace is a lie.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Theron muttered. “We’ve all heard the spiel.”

A single, disdainful look was spared for him. “Your betters are speaking, insect.”

Despite himself, Theron’s brows rose in both surprise and indignation, but the only sign that his Jedi companion had even heard the brusque dismissal was a single muscle that twitched along her jaw.

“And does my ‘better’ happen to have a name? Or should we just refer to you as Darth Asshat?”

“You may not refer to me at all,” the Sith bristled. “This is a conversation between two ancient foes.”

“You two literally just met. Your rivalry has all the history of a hundred and twenty seconds.”

“I grow weary of this tiresome babble.” The Sith flicked his eyes back to his target. “Do you not have anything to say for yourself, Jedi?”

“You do not look old enough to have the title of Darth,” she mused. “Nor do I think my companion’s appellation is appropriate.”

“I am Vokk.” The Sith’s face contorted into a sneer. “And with your defeat, I shall prove myself worthy of inheriting the title of Lord.”

When that statement didn’t get the desired reaction, he drew one of his lightsabers in a smooth motion. The red blade bursting to life with a loud snap-hiss. It cast an eerie glow across his unnatural gray pallor and seemed to almost make the red in his eyes aglow with power and madness. 

“The way of a true Sith is to destroy a dangerous foe. I will carve your heart from your chest — and your fellow Jedi will sense your defeat. As will my master!”

“O-kay,” Theron dramatized the word by drawing it out, “someone has an active imagination.”

Grey’s lips quivered between stoic resolve and a smile threatening to erupt. Ultimately, common sense won the battle as her expression steadied into its now familiar facade, even as Vokk’s expression twisted with outrage.

“Do not worry, worm, I will cut your tongue out with my lightsaber once I finish with my foe.”

“Oh, good. I was feeling left out of this conversation.”

“Sparky, I think to be left out, you must stop talking first.” Grey’s expression didn’t budge from its neutral mask, but he thought he heard the barest trace of humor threaded through the comment. But still, point taken.

“All right, Blondie,” he emphasized the nickname as he shot her a look. “Why don’t I leave you two to your ancient struggle of light versus dark, then? Me and the boys here will make do on our own.” He motioned to the troopers behind Vokk with his head. 

Apparently Vokk had tired of not being the center of attention for several seconds in a row, and stabbed a lightsaber straight for Grey’s heart. She deftly parried the blow with a flick of her wrist, sparks flying as the two blades met.

Theron pushed away from the spot, twisting to shoot at the troopers as he dove for cover behind a stack of nearby crates. The aim was wild, but the effect was to send the troopers scattering back out of range. They returned fire, their shots going wide and hitting the floor, walls, and ceiling as he quickly ducked behind his impromptu cargo shield.

From his shelter behind the crates, a sharp bark of laughter momentarily grabbed his attention. Instinctively he turned to the source of the sound to see the two force users locked in a dangerous dance, their feet moving with a startling speed. The result was a blur of red and blue as their blades clashed together repeatedly in a colorful shower of sparks, with neither opponent gaining any ground on the other.  

His attention was pulled back to his current situation when a blaster bolt pinged dangerously close, punching a smoking hole in the crate just inches from his head. While Theron had been distracted, one bolder trooper had left cover and repositioned to get a better shot at him behind his temporary cover. His targeting implant adjusted his arm minutely, helping him aim precisely at the narrow gap between the chest plate and shoulder guard — and the trooper went down with a cry.

The close call sent a surge of adrenaline through him. Outnumbered as he was, it would be tempting to lean into the rush and let it buzz through his veins, to allow the red haze to descend and fog his awareness. A distant echo from the past rose unbidden: Ngani Zho telling him to open his mind to the present situation, to allow awareness to fill him and distractions to fall away. There was always a solution to every problem. It was just a matter of being open to its possibility.

Perhaps some lingering resentment should have surged forth, but he didn’t have the luxury to indulge in it right now. Instead of squashing down the voice like usual, he chose to listen to the words instead. He took in a deep breath to center himself, and then surveyed the room, taking everything in and processing in it.

The remaining troopers had sought refuge behind some half-unloaded cargo — and forgotten, judging by the layer of dust that had settled across the tarp stretched across it. They would peek out from behind it to take potshots at him, but had apparently been so focused on him, they’d missed the bright red warning sign on one barrel labeling its materials as highly explosive. One well-aimed shot would probably be enough to pierce the barrel and ignite the materials inside.

Theron weighed a few other tactics before taking aim at the barrel and pulling the trigger. The shot plowed into the barrel, punching a hole straight through and drawing a burst of sparks that set the volatile chemicals inside ablaze. Rather than reveling in his success, he immediately took off running in the opposite direction to put as much space between him and the oncoming inferno.

The ground shook beneath him as the barrel detonated into a fireball that sent the bodies of the troopers flying. He leapt over another stack of crates, flames and debris flying towards him, and narrowly escaping a chunk of jagged metal hurtling at him. Distantly, he could hear it clatter and scrape against the ground as his ears rang from the blast. He landed in a crouch and peeked back to see a large blackened ring where the cargo had been.

During all of this, the lightsaber duel had moved closer to Theron. He looked over in time to see one of Vokk’s red blades come down in a heavy blow aimed at Grey’s head. She caught it between her two crossed lightsabers in front of her. His guts clenched in anxiety as he waited for the larger, more imposing figure to force down his opponent’s blades. But he’d forgotten how capable she was, and to his relief and amazement watched as she reversed the momentum of the strike and sent her opponent stumbling backwards.

Vokk let out a bellow of rage and frustration at being outmaneuvered, quickly regained his footing. His eyes blazed with rage at Grey, but she returned the stare with an almost unnatural calm. This steadfast confidence from his mortal enemy of three minutes only made Vokk angrier. 

Hate practically radiated off of the Sith apprentice. He snarled, looking around wildly until his gaze landed on Theron and the burning chaos and wreckage wrought by the spy.

“You,” he seethed.

Vokk gave a quick flick of the wrist, and Theron’s entire world became a blur as he went flying across the room. He slammed into the ground, his head bouncing off the floor with the impact. Stars exploded across his vision, darkness flickering at the edges. The first sensation to register beyond the wildly spinning world was the cool, metal grating pressing into his cheek and a distant ringing in his ears.

He pushed up onto his elbows and tried to get his bearings. The world swam out of focus with the movement, and it took a moment for his vision to clear. The various blurs of the world came into sharp focus just in time to see an airborne Vokk, triumph and hatred gleaming in his eyes as his lightsaber aimed to cleave Theron in two. Even if Theron had his full faculties at that moment, he had barely enough time to process the scene, let alone react. 

Someone shouted something that might have been his name before a vision of tan and gold slid out of nowhere in the split second before Vokk skewered him. He had hardly recovered any of his precious equilibrium when it was once more upended by something considerably more substantial than Vokk’s Force throw, and he once again was sent flying backward.

This second landing was softer, but the world still pitched sickeningly as he hit the ground with a grunt of pain. He had just enough presence of mind to roll with the impact this time, shoving himself up into a half-crouch as everything swayed with the movement. It took another precious moment for him to focus again and understand what had just happened.

Grey was standing in the area where he’d just been pushed away from, her eyes wide and face pale. She held up a single saber in front of herself as a defensive gesture, a tremble running through the typically firm stance. Theron’s relief at being alive quickly gave way to horror as he saw her other arm hanging uselessly at her side. The sleeve of her shirt and tunic burned away completely. Blackened flesh peeked out underneath the tattered remains of the sleeve. Her second lightsaber had been flung several feet away as she’d received a glancing blow from Vokk’s lightsaber when she’d thrown herself between it and Theron.

The Sith’s mouth curved into a wicked smile as he raised his twin blades to strike a blow at the injured Jedi.

The darkness at the edges of Theron’s vision brightened into an crimson that pulsed in time to his rapid heartbeat and the pounding in his head. He hadn’t even registered that his fingers were tightening around his blasters, nor was there any thought in his mind other than a percolating anger quickening, boiling over into rage. He didn’t bother to aim, letting his targeting implants do the work as he unloaded shot after shot at Vokk.

The Sith was caught off guard by the sudden onslaught from a presumably downed foe, retreating several paces as he narrowly deflected the blaster fire. Red eyes first widened in disbelief, then narrowed in rage as he raised his hand to use the Force once more. 

Dark purple electricity arced from Vokk’s fingertips, but this time Theron was ready and rolled out of the way from his semi-crouched position. The moment he had cleared the blast zone, Theron was struggling to his feet, firing wildly in Vokk’s direction with both blasters.

A few of the wild shots hit their mark, and smoke curled up from Vokk’s singed flesh. He snarled in pain and fury and his hand shot out again to send another blast at Theron. Before the Dark Side energy could finish crackling and unfurling from his fingertips, the snarl turned into a sickened gasp. Vokk looked down to see a single blue blade buried hilt-deep in his chest.

Vokk’s knees buckled as disbelief and anger warred in his expression. His gaze first shifted to Grey, whose face was set in a grim and determined mask, then up to meet Theron’s unflinching stare. As if, even in his last moments, he couldn’t comprehend the fact that this puny Force-blind spy had contributed to the downfall of this supposed great and mighty Sith.

With a final hiss, Grey’s saber deactivated, the blue light vanishing as Vokk collapsed facedown with a thud. Her lips pressed together, face set into an unreadable expression as she stared at the body at her feet. Even though she was still standing, it was clear at this point she’d exhausted the seemingly infinite reserves she’d been drawing on all day.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and neck, dripping down beneath the collar of the ruined tunic. With her good arm, she still held the hilt of her lightsaber with a white knuckled grip, her posture so rigidly tensed it seemed she might break with the slightest movement. Her injured arm still hung limply, the wound clearly visible through the charred cloth of her sleeve. The lightsaber blade had cauterized immediately it, so it wasn’t bleeding freely, but still looked extremely painful.

When she eventually raised her head to meet Theron’s gaze, exhaustion and pain shone through the cracks in her stoic mask.

“Are you okay?” Her question came out almost as a breath as her legs gave out and she collapsed to the ground.

His lunging forward to catch her was more of a natural reaction than an active thought. The entire world swayed with the sudden movement, his stomach clenching uncomfortably as his equilibrium tried to catch up. He grabbed her just barely, and eased them both gently to the floor.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, too quickly and entirely unconvincing.

“You,” he muttered as they both slumped against each other, their foreheads touching, “are the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”

“Your face.” With her good hand she reached towards where his head had hit the ground, but seemed to realize what she was doing at the last moment and let it drop.

He winced, now that the adrenaline was fading, noticed the cool sensation of trickling liquid, and belatedly realized that maybe it wasn’t all sweat. “We certainly make a fine pair, don’t we?”

The laugh she let out was quiet and strained, but there was a note of fondness behind it. “Now that’s not something I ever thought I’d hear you say, Sparky.”

His chuckle was half-hearted. “I thought I told you to call me Theron.”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

In the wake of the battle and surrounded by carnage, the hangar was eerily quiet. Compared to the earlier cacophony of blaster fire, explosions, and lightsaber combat, the relative silence was a stark contrast. The only sound outside of their haggard breathing was the fizzling from the flaming debris of the cargo that Theron had used as an impromptu incendiary device.

“We should get moving,” she said after a moment, “before—”

The loudspeakers drowned her out as Kilran’s voice seeped out of the crackling speakers. “I’ve just given the order to charge up our main turbo lasers. In a few minutes, your pathetic ship and all of your pathetic friends will be nothing but debris.”

“That?” Theron asked.

“That.” Grey breathed a sigh.

“No rest for the weary.”

“I am afraid not. Can you check on the ambassador?” At her question, Theron’s gaze settled back on her injured arm and she shook her head at him softly, as if sensing his thoughts. “Despite my injury, I am still capable of walking.”

The skepticism must have shown on his face, because she gave a soft huff of exasperation as she pushed herself to her feet with a single movement. He didn’t bother to check the frustration in his own sigh as he carefully picked himself up. Thankfully, the world was deciding to stop spinning so much, and he could make his way over to Asara. She was conscious, and even if her thanks were uttered hoarsely as he pulled her upright.

She looked around at the smoldering mess of the hangar, and the bodies of both their attackers and the security guards that had given their lives in her defense. Her brows bunched up into genuine contrition. “So much death.”

“Too much,” he agreed quietly.

“We don’t have time to take them with us, do we?” Her voice was still quiet and raw from the abuse she’d taken at the hands of Vokk. At the soft shake of his head, she bowed her head. “Then we get back to the ship to save what lives we can.”

After retrieving her lightsabers, Grey had joined them at the shuttle. As she eyed the pilot’s seat with intent, Theron made an executive decision and firmly steered the stubborn Jedi to a bench in the back of the shuttle, while Asara quickly took her place at the controls.

It was was for the best. Of the three survivors of their little counter-boarding party, at this moment, Asara was the best candidate to pilot the shuttle. She had a clear enough head and vision to operate the controls, or at least, better than a one-armed Jedi and a possibly concussed spy.

As they took off and cleared the hangar, Theron stared out the view port at the wreckage and bodies of their fallen comrades. There had been too much death and bloodshed. But perhaps — he thought as he looked back at Grey, leaning against the bench, clutching her injured arm — it hadn’t all been in vain.

Next Chapter

[haworthiaace]

Magic misfits! Did I update the masterpost specifically because of this fic? yes absolutely. A busy day for Scar, featuring TFC and some good ol’ Scar appreciation :]

The start of a new season was always interesting.

While TFC didn’t enjoy having to start from scratch every year or so; having gotten used to the comforts of late season riches, he did love the sheer amount of interaction that came with a new season. TFC was content to hear gossip about the others’ shenanigans while he stuck to what he was best at: mining. Some of the others called it cheating to use his earthbending down in the tunnels, but he called it cheating to be able to shapeshift, or use magic crystals, or any of the other crazy things the other hermits could do, so it evened out.

When he wasn’t down in his mine, TFC watched as all the other hermits scrambled to make the most impressive buildings and contraptions in as little time as possible. Many of his servermates placed more importance on finishing their creations than actually gathering necessities such as tools and armour. 

As if to prove this observation, the Boatem village appeared on the other side of the nether portal, populated with structures that were much too large considering it had only been three weeks since they arrived in this world. There was also a… tree? At least that’s what it looked like; a thin oak tree stretching up past the clouds and out of view. Looks like Mumbo and Grian were up to no good already.

“TFC! Up here!” Scar’s voice came from somewhere above TFC’s head, and he looked up to see the wizard (although he no longer wore his robe and hat) standing on a balcony extending from a truly massive wagon, one hand on the railing and the other extended above his head, waving enthusiastically at TFC.

He climbed the ladder up the side of the wagon, entering a sparse storage room. Knowing Scar, he either hadn’t bothered to move in yet or lost all of his things in a cave somewhere. Despite his powerful crystal magic, Scar still managed to die more than any other hermit, so the second option was more likely.

“Well hello there! Welcome to my humble abode, please take a seat.” Scar led TFC to a balcony, where he gestured towards a table and two folding chairs. Scar sat down, crossing his legs and folding his arms in his lap. “So, what brings you to our little village today?”

TFC raised an eyebrow at the question, confusion evident in his voice. “Because you invited me? We were supposed to have tea today.” 

Scar jolted in his seat, then proceeded to scramble out of said seat. “I’ll be right back! I have to go… feed Jellie!” This was quite obviously a lie seeing as Jellie hadn’t returned from her between seasons interdimensional travels yet. TFC’s laughter chased Scar into the wagon, where he frantically prepared the tea that he was totally planning on making because he definitely remembered his plans for the day. 

After about five minutes of mildly concerning crashing sounds, Scar returned with two steaming mugs of tea (decorated with cat faces, of course) and a plate of chocolate chip cookies - Stress’ recipe if TFC wasn’t mistaken. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, appreciating the tea and cookies. 

“So, how are you holding up this season, Scar?” TFC took a sip of green tea, looking out at the horizon.

“Oh you know, the usual. I don’t have my village anymore, but the magical misfits still come seeking my help.” He brought a cookie to his mouth and bit off half of it. “Not that I mind helping people!” He swallowed his mouthful before continuing. “XB was here last week convinced that he left his coat in season seven, but turns out it just ended up in one of Joe’s boxes.” He chuckled to himself, wiping crumbs off of his jacket as TFC stared at the distant ocean, lost in thought.

TFC broke the silence that had fallen. “You’re a good man, y’know that?” The wizard in question looked at TFC in surprise. He was used to ‘thank you’s, but the personal compliment caught him off guard. “You’ve created a safe space for folks from all sorts of places, and you’ve saved quite a few of them from bad people.” 

Scar looked down, smiling at his cup of tea. He spoke quietly, a departure from his usual boisterousness. “Thanks TFC, that means a lot.”

-

Scar was in the middle of catching TFC up on what he missed from day one when something red and very fast crashed into the balcony. The something in question turned out to be Grian, shimmering wings protruding from his back. Something must have been wrong, since winged hermits tended to refrain from flying early in the season, in the name of fairness.

“Scar we need your- Oh heeey, I didn’t know you had company over!” He leaned on the railing, his urgency replaced with a forced cheerfulness as he (quite obviously) pretended nothing was wrong. What was probably supposed to be an easygoing smile stretched too wide, and his voice was more high pitched than usual. “How’s it goin’?”

Scar, completely oblivious, responded excitedly. “Oh, I was just telling TFC here about our adventure in the geode with Cleo!”

Grian’s uncomfortable smile grew wider, and his eyebrows furrowed. “That sounds great, do you think you’ll be done anytime soon?”

“Oh well, I’m not too sure. It depends on when we finish all of these cookies.”

“Oh that’s just wonderful,” Grian’s wings started to twitch behind him, “did you make those yourself?”

Scar took a breath, preparing for a tangent when TFC cut in, showing the poor fairy some mercy. “Alright Grian, out with it. What’s wrong?” Scar stared at Grian, somehow surprised that this wasn’t a completely ordinary visit.

Grian let out a long sigh. “Thank you so much TFC.” He turned his gaze to Scar. “We need a little help with curse breaking.”

Scar set down his mug and gave Grian his full attention, preparing himself for whatever strange curse one of the fairies had set on some poor hermit. “Really? How are you two cursing people already? It hasn’t even been a month!”

Grian’s tangent was accompanied by wild hand gestures that made it difficult to follow what he was saying. “Well, Pearl came up behind Mumbo and spooked him, he shouted something about not sneaking up on him, and now whenever he turns his back on her she teleports directly in front of him.” Grian looked nervously over his shoulder in the direction of Mumbo’s van. TFC followed his gaze, and burst into laughter again.

Mumbo was standing a few feet away from his campfire, spinning in circles and doubling over in laughter as Pearl kept popping up in front of him. 

Scar pushed himself up from his chair, TFC followed suit. The pair headed to the door while Grian flew back down, Scar giving TFC a sort of briefing. “Alright, let’s go figure out what exactly Mumbo did before Pearl starts feeling particularly vengeful.”

-

It took two hours and a lot of trial and error (with TFC giving supremely unhelpful tips), but eventually Pearl could stand behind Mumbo again. At some point Scar accidentally applied the effect to both Grian and Mumbo, and he had to beg the two not to create a space time anomaly. But it was all fixed now, and TFC was sure Pearl’s revenge would be swift and cruel.

Scar made his way back up to the balcony, and the two continued their conversation. It was a good thing Scar had enchanted his mugs, something he had done back in season seven after his drinks kept getting abandoned and going cold.

After a few hours of peace (other than both Mumbo and Grian’s bases abruptly flipping upside down while the boys were inside), the pair was interrupted again by a voice behind them.

“Howdy, Scar. Oh, and howdy to you as well, TFC!”

Neither of them had heard Joe coming, so Scar jumped about a foot in the air while TFC nearly spat out his tea. It turned out that Cleo was there as well, looking quite a bit angrier than Joe, although that wasn’t too uncommon.

“Oh my goodness, Joe you scared the life out of me!” Scar held a hand to his chest and caught his breath as Cleo got right to business.

“Sorry about that Scar,” her voice was flat, and it was safe to assume that she was not, in fact, sorry about that. “But we have an emergency. It’s completely Joe’s fault, he-”

Joe smoothly stepped in front of his companion as he cut her off, “I wouldn’t say it’s entirely my fault, old magic is a fickle thing-”

Cleo shoved Joe aside, stepping in front once again. “He revived my leg!” She raised a foot off the ground and gestured at it with both hands.

Sure enough, both TFC and Scar looked down to see that Cleo’s right leg was significantly more flesh-coloured than the left, restored to what it presumably once was. 

Scar’s lingering panic was instantly replaced by an amused grin as he gestured to the leg in question. “Cleo, why don’t you just get your leg reinfected? It’s not like zombies are hard to come by.”

The pair stood still, just blinking. (Completely in sync, it was eerie) 

Cleo rounded on Joe and punched at his shoulder just as he raised a hand to deflect her fist. “How did you not think of that Joe?! I thought you knew everything there was to know about-” She gestured wildly about for a moment. “Everything?!”

“Shouldn’t you be some sort of zombie expert by now? How is that my responsibility?” The argument continued as the pair went back into the wagon and down the ladder. As they walked off, presumably to go find a cave, something occurred to TFC. He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell down at them.

“Cleo!” She turned around. “Don’t use Joe as bait!” 

She snapped her finger like a defeated cartoon villain, as Joe turned to face her and presumably gave her grief for this evil plot.

-

It was only about five minutes after Cleo and Joe left (preceded by twenty minutes of arguing) that the next problem arrived, as it often did, in the form of Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango arriving on the shore of the village. TFC found this odd, seeing as how everyone was now connected by nether portals, but he assumed there would be an explanation shortly, even if it didn’t make a lick of sense.

Impulse shouted up from the ground, the three of them clustered near the front of the wagon. “TFC, we need your help!” Well that was a surprise, not many people asked for his assistance other than Scar. “We made an oopsie and Cleo said we could find you here!”

As every hermit knew, ‘oopsie’ was a versatile word with these three. It could mean anything between making a minor mistake in a build to banishing Impulse for the fifth time. “What happened this time?” TFC stood up and made his way down the ladder, since shouting down at them wasn’t very efficient and they didn’t seem inclined to come up.

Impulse started twisting his hands together while Zedaph and Tango tried their best to look innocent behind him. It didn’t work. “Weeell, Tango wanted a terraforming job done around his base, so we made a little deal for it.” 

Oh boy. Not much good came out of magical deals, yet the other hermits continued to make them with each other. Demonic deals were especially tricky since the demon didn’t have precise control over their end of the deal, not that it stopped these three. “Tango offered me his first beacon in exchange for the job, and it turns out that a beacon is worth a lot more than I thought- it’s probably easier if we show you.”

“Quick FYI guys: firsts are very valuable in deals! It applies to you as well Impulse, not just the fae!” Scar called helpfully from his still seated position on the balcony.

-

They all ended up going over to Tango’s house/ shop, which was literally buried in a mound of dirt and stone, along with about three quarters of Bdubs’ giant moon house. That explains why they didn’t use the nether. 

The earth was offended after being touched by demonic magic, but after a long negotiation TFC managed to convince it that Impulse meant no harm, and it was happy to return to its prior state. Tango was mildly annoyed that he would have to do the terraforming himself and give Impulse a beacon, but it was better than the wrath he would have faced from Bdubs.

By the time TFC and Scar returned to the Boatem village, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. While TFC admired the beauty of it, Scar just looked disappointed. 

“I’m sorry.”

TFC raised an eyebrow at the wizard, a frown making its way onto his face. “What do you mean you’re sorry? Did you do something to the tea?” 

Despite TFC’s attempted joke, Scar still stared at his perfectly polished shoes. “This was supposed to be a nice relaxing day to catch up, and people were just showing up left and right. I mean, we hardly got to spend any time together! Maybe I shouldn’t invite people over with all this wizard stuff going on.”

“But we did spend time together.” TFC’s rough hand landed on Scar’s shoulder, the latter looking up at the former, startled by the contact.

“Well yeah we had tea for a while but-”

TFC had to cut off Scar’s rambling or he would never get to his point. “Yes we had tea, but I’m talking about the rest of the day.” Scar seemed genuinely confused at this. “I helped you un-curse Pearl,” he did air quotes on the word ‘helped,’ “We watched Joe and Cleo argue together, and you came with us to fix Tango’s house.” Of course he didn’t do much other than laugh at Tango’s misfortune, but it was the thought that counted. “Just ‘cause it didn’t go to plan doesn’t mean I didn’t have a good time.” After all, not much went according to plan on the hermitcraft server.

Now Scar was smiling. “So I didn’t ruin the day with magical misfits?”

“Not at all.” TFC reached for his mug and emptied it one last time, then stretched before heading out. “But now I gotta get going. I don’t like my chances against the mobs with my crappy iron gear.”

Scar waved once more as TFC disappeared into the nether portal. “Goodnight TFC! And thanks again, for everything!”

TFC smiled as he made his way through the nether tunnels back home. Scar did a lot more for the hermits than he realized, allowing them to be free with their magic in a way they couldn’t back home, TFC included. He’d created a home for all sorts of ‘magic misfits’ as Scar put it, and he performed an invaluable service, whether he realized it or not.

He’s a good kid. Just needs some reminding every once in a while. 

[oneironautz]

bunch of xbfam requests. there’s going to be spam

[ID: A sketch in pencil of three hermits on off-white dotted paper.  Each drawing is roughly from the shoulders up. In order from left to right are Mumbo, Doc and Etho. Mumbo is a man in a black suit with pointed ears, a large moustache, slicked-back hair, and dot eyes. He’s facing the right with a somehow mildly distressed expression, despite the lack of facial features. Doc is a hunched-over creeper facing to the right and looking back to the left. He has curled ram horns, a metal lower jaw, a goat-like nose, a fluffy mane and a lab coat. His eye whites are black and he has an angry or annoyed expression. Etho is a man with fluffy white hair and mismatched black and red eyes. He’s wearing a black turtleneck underneath a sleeveless jacket with a fur-lined collar, a black mask and a black headband. He looks like he’s either smiling or laughing. /End ID.]

[liibrii]

Built for eternity  

deity!Atsumu x gn!reader || crack/fluff || wc: 1.6k || 🦊

Synopsis: Once Atsumu was a great deity, equally loved and feared but after taking a very long nap he wakes up to a world that has forgotten him. Everyone but your group that’s digging up his old shrine. He's sure you'll be his new followers so why on Earth are you destroying his house?!

warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, cursing, suggestive moments, archaeological mumbo jumbo, Atsumu is a god of something but it's vague and not really important, also gods exist and everybody is chill with that, reader is a very tired archaeologist and done with everybody’s shit

a/n: after 3 days of rain and 6 straight hours of shovelling dirt I had an epiphany. idk, it made me laugh so I decided to scribble it down. and yes, don’t mess with a profile unless you want archaeologists to hate you forever as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Once Atsumu was a great deity with shrines and temples at every corner. Nowadays the only ones remembering him are obscure books only used for collecting dust. But that is about to change. Atsumu is sure of that. 

Group of loyal followers has gathered where his shrine once stood, a small one, one he never really cared about but these days he'll take every crumb of adoration he can. And the crumbs are a plenty as the group digs up the shrine, excited about the pottery shards and walls coming to light. 

They call themselves archaeo-something, architects probably since they will rebuild his power. Yes, excellent, it pleases him to see you all rejoice, taking pictures of everything, you will be his new followers and more will follow, he'll be a great deity again, equally loved and feared-

“Aright, take the wall out!“

Huh?

Why are ya destroyin’ his shrine?! No, no, no, stop breakin’ apart the walls! That was the inner altar, what are ya pigs doin’?!

Thunder rumbles and a downpour falls for days, and still those little crawly humans continue to destroy his shrine, his precious walls, and take away the last remains of old offerings. Oh he's going to have a word with all of you freakin' stumblin’ humans, ya better know yer damn places. But he'll start with the one in charge.

The excavation site is empty when he decides to approach you. You're shovelling away dirt, though you should've started with your shoes and clothes. You turn when you hear someone approach and your eyes widen, as they should, thinks Atsumu, at least someone 'round here should show him the respect he deserves, he's a god after-

“Hey! You're standing on my feature! Get off, shoo, shoo! And watch out for the profile! I just cleaned the damn thing. Excavation site is closed to the public Mister so I'll have to ask you to leave.“

Exca- what? Leave? It’s his shrine! Humans shouldn’t react to his presence the way you did, that's just, it's not what humans do! 

“But I live here.“

“You-? Oh. You're still standing on my feature, get off already,“ you pull him off the patch of dark soil that to him looks the same as the patch where he's standing now.

“Why are ya destroyin' my shrine?“

You wipe away the sweat on your forehead, or maybe it's rain, with raindrops still falling he can't really tell. “We're not destroying anything, we're digging it up. Documenting it. It'll get destroyed once the apartment complex is build here. Come on, stay away from the profile!“

You return to scrapping the patch of dirt and Atsumu feels some very confusing mixture of rage that you, a lowly little human being, are talking to him like he's a nuisance, and being very pleased because when you lean down to scrap the soil he has an incredible view of your behind, and whew, that's a very nice ass. He shouldn't look, staring is rude, but what else is he supposed to look at, there's just soil, and holes dug into the ground, a weird green box atop a yellow tripod, a shovel, and some stones, one beside your left leg, such good looking legs indeed, there's a mud stain all over your ass-

No! You're tearing down the last remains of his shrine! “Human. I order ya to stop doin' what yer doin' and answer my questions!“

You glance over your shoulder. “Sure. I'll keep on working and you ask me what you want to know.“

Why are you so calm?! He's a deity, a god, you should be on your knees begging for your life to be spared, not scrapping the ground, oh holy bean sprouts and apples, why does your ass look so good? “Do ya know who I am?“

“The one of many names. The Twofaced god.“ You straighten up just to change gardening hoe for a shovel.

“Why aren't ya scared then?“

“I've met your kind before,“ you shovel the dirt onto a big pile a few steps away. “Though they usually don't go around destroying my surfaces. A clumsy god is a first. Oh, what's this? Pottery, nice,“ you mumble as you turn a small object covered with soil in your hand.

“Hey. Show me some respect or-“

“Or what? You’ll make it rain again? Joke's on you I've been soaked through and through for the last three days. Hand me the trowel?“

“Yer extremely impolite.“

To his utter surprise you burst into laughter. “Listen your holiness it's Friday afternoon, I’m tired, my clothes are completely wet, I'm cold, I have gravel in my shoes, my shoulders are killing me, and I'm more than ready to go home. But before that I have a feature to document. The one that you so kindly stepped in. Now, please show me your godly powers and hand me the trowel. The mini shovel. Red handle. No, left. Left. That's the one, thank you, what did I tell you, watch the profile man!“

Good grief, have humans always been so demanding?

“Will my shrine be rebuild?“

“If your shrine is an apartment complex, sure. Give it a few weeks and it will be good as new. Literally.“ When you see his face your expression softens a little. “No. It won’t be. We'll look at the remains to figure out when it was abandoned, what happened, that sort of thing.“

“But yer an architect. Architects build things.“ He heard people of your group call themselves that. They talked about how the walls had been built though he quickly stoped listening. “This shrine was built for eternity!“

“Archaeologist.“

“What?

“You meant I’m an archaeologist. Not architect. I don't plan buildings, I dig them up once their eternity passes.“

“It's eternity! It doesn't pass! Go dig somewhere else!“

You sigh. You look almost as exhausted as he did before taking his a few thousand years long nap. “Great, you're one of those people. Always complaining, why is it taking so long, why do you have to dig on my building site? Well mister it ain't my fault you decided to build atop of my neolithic settlement. Hey, grab the hoe.“

“The what?“

“The thing by your feet. No, that's a trowel. The one with the long handle. No, that’s a pickaxe, yes that's the one. See there? Your footprints. Clean them. Come on, don't just stand around and look pretty, get to hoeing.“

“Right here? Out in the open?“ He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Yer an intriguin'-“

“Clean them away.“

Atsumu does as you say all while grinning. You're getting flustered. Humans and their brave facades, we'll see how long you manage to hold your own up.

“There.“ It only took four scraps to get rid of the footprints but Atsumu proclaims it so proudly he might as well just have dug up the entire excavation site on his own. “That was as easy-“ As he steps away ground under his foot crumbles and he hears your shocked shriek.

“My profile!“

Oh dear. The word he’d use to describe the look on your face when you see the collapsed pile of dirt beside the hole in the cross section would be heartbroken. Devastated. On verge of tears. Irritated. Angry. Enraged? 

“What did I tell you?! I gave you one job, one job you clumsy wanna be deity! Oh fuck, come on, I’m to tired for this.“

“’m sorry,“ Atsumu mumbles. His ears are on fire.

“Yeah you better be. Shit, fuck, what am I supposed to do?“ You look at him the same way someone in a hurry looks at a doorknob when their jacket gets caught on it. “You. Here.“

“What's-“

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a shovel is. You destroyed my profile. I'm very tired. I'm very angry. I don't care if you're a god or a plastic straw, right now you will help me fix it. Shovel straight down. I want a right angle.“ 

With his strength evening out the cross section proves to be no problem at all. He glances over at you, do you see what a good job he’s doing, maybe he messed up before but now he’s doing great, as you pay him no attention and write something on a small blackboard. A bunch of numbers and words. He recognises there's a date. What could the others mean? You lean down to reach for, oh that mud stain on your trousers is actually a hand print. You must've wiped your hand on your ass- 

The shovel slips. Luckily you're too preoccupied with your camera to take notice of it.

“Are you done?“ you ask without looking up and he stutters out an 'almost' since he's almost sure it isn’t just the shovel that’s slipping. “Looks good.“ You say more to yourself than him. 

He thinks you're pretty cute when you're not chewing him out for stepping onto that one patch of dirt. The way you lift the camera up and take photos of that patch of dirt is pretty cute too. 

“Help me pack up,“ you say once you’re done. He doesn’t need to be told twice, already gathering your tools. “All things considered you weren’t so bad. Maybe you should consider becoming the god of archaeologists.“ Your smile is incredibly cute too. “Fancy a drink?“

[cd-head]

- Appearances -

- HERO’S WEAR -

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xisuma - 

Hero Outfit - Helmet that covers head completely with a purple tint in the front, large bulky metal, actually quite easy to move and breath in, armor all around and he has a belt to hold his weapons.  (basically just picture iron man's suit but black and instead of that helmet thing, its just like that but with a purple visor thats glass-)

Casual Wear - Long black hair thats held up in a bun on the top of his head as well stubble. Bright purple eyes, pale skin, scars littering all over - most prompt is a scar across his face that seems to be a ‘X’. Tends to wear a mask over his face when he goes out in public as it makes him feel safe Big pointy ears. Normally wears a jean jacket, a black button up shirt, ripped jeans, and combat boots.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mumbo - 

Hero Outfit - A light blue armor that covers his body, although it looks thin its actually quite thick and is a bit hard to move in if not used to it. He wears a helmet sometimes but most of the time doesn't unless necessary. There's markings of hearts, clubs, spades, and diamonds on each of his arms and legs - Like the card symbols.

Casual Wear - Normally a hoodie of any color and any kind with jeans, sometimes wears the sweaters that Grian made him. Has jet black short hair that looks well kept and taken care of as well with a well kept curly mustache. He has forest green eyes. Has freckles and a few scars but the scars arent to noticeable, hes actually quite pale.

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Grian - 

Hero Outfit - He has a ant-man like suit (Just in shrinking department) but unlike ant-man's, his suit can bend and change quickly on whim based off of the form that Grian takes. Its a toned down red color and you can only see his eyes through the gray tinted glass.  The suit is quite bendy but thin due to it having to change quickly to match Grian’s shape shipshifting.

Casual Wear - A red sweater, either thin or thick - Depends on the weather honestly. He has curly unkempt but taken good care of blonde hair that bounces around on his head. Bright big blue eyes. Freckles cover him as well as scars but the scars aren’t to noticeable. He’s a bit tan to be honest, he also has pointed ears.

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Impulse -

Hero Outfit - A bright yellow and white suit with lightning patterns running all around as well as ‘wind’ like movements mixing in with the yellow as a white. His helmet has yellow stained glass that's hard to see through, you can barely see facial features. His gloves are a pitch black, as well as his boots.  

Casual Wear - Has long blonde hair that he keeps in a man bun normally, brown eyes that look bubbly and happy normally as well as faint stubble - not to noticeable. He wears dark colored shirts normally, doesn't matter to him if its long sleeve or short sleeve.  He normally wears ripped jeans with them.  He has lightning like scars on his body all over as well as random strach white patches in his skin as well as his finger tips being stained black from eletrictly.

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Tango -

Hero Outfit - A bright red with orange and yellow blinding in, a faintness of blue at the bottom of the suit and his gloves - Mimicking a fires colors. He has a helmet that has a area in the top that is a different texture than the others to handle his fire hair. Has a red tinted glass in the front of it but its still quite hard to see his facial features.

Casual Wear - Has red hair thats on fire, but its normally more toned down and only floaty a bit when hes calm. Dark red eyes with a yellow sclera that hold a look of kindness and chaos. His skin is charred black in some pales on his yellow skin.

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Zedaph - 

Hero Outfit - A light green color with designs of what seems to be plants weaving around every part - as well as actual plants doing that. A dark green visor but you can see his facial features easily. Vines and plants cover the suit mostly but it moves as if its good as new.

Casual Wear - Fluffy blonde hair that has some plants here and there. Light blue eyes with a splash of green in them. Goat ears and small nubs of a horn + a small tail. Normally wears a brown sweater with a v neck and buttons, ripped jeans, and fingerless gloves as well as a few necklaces. Has a lot of scars but they're only noticeable if you focus on them.

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Doc - 

Hero Outfit - A dark green suit with gray around the edges of the part; the sliver color is around his wrists, ankles, neck, and chest. Red, green, and gray visor that makes it difficult to see his facial features. Red side is quite small and only takes up about 1/4 of it, only in place of where a eye would be. The green and gray and split down the half. 

Casual Wear - Brown wavy hair that looks neat and well brushed. One red eye that has cybernetic parts and one black eye thats just normal with a few splashes of red in it. Green skin as well as pointy ears. He has a cybernetic arm as well. He normally wears a short sleeved black turtleneck with jeans and a lab coat.

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Ren -

Hero Outfit - A red suit with some gold here and there, theres a area for his tail, its made of the same thing that Grian’s suit is made of so it can move around easily. His helmet as that as well. The helmet has yellow tinted glass which makes it easy to see his facial features.

Casual Wear - Brown hair that is very unkempt. Big blue puppy eyes. Has tanned skin with dog ears in place where human ears should be, as well as a dog tail. He normally wears a red shirt with cargo pants or jeans, sunglasses are a normal add on, as well as fingerless gloves and a few necklaces.

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Joe -

Hero Outfit - A toned down gray color as well as it being able to fade with him.  Has black tinted glass, as well as black gloves and boots. Nothing really stands out about his suit and thats how he likes it. Its a bit flimsy and confusing at first but once you get the hang of it, its easy to maneuver and control.

Casual Wear - Soft black hair with a few strikes of gray. Pale sickly gray skin, as well as pointed ears. Normally wears a blue hoodie and ripped jeans, as well as a few necklaces here and there.

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Cleo -

Hero Outfit - A dark purple color with dark blue shading around her joint parts. A tinted black glass that makes it impossible to see her facial features. Fingerless gloves so you can see her sharp nails.

Casual Wear - Blonde hair that she wears down normally. Green skin thats sewed together in some places. Light blue eyes on a yellow sclera. Normally wears a black long sleeve turtleneck with ripped jeans and a leather jacket as well as necklaces.

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Stress - 

Hero Outfit - A bubbly pink color with a hot pink shading in the joints. Pink tinted glass that makes it quite easy to see her facial features. Hot pink gloves and boots. She has string wrapped around her arms but it doesnt seem to bother her none.

Casual Wear - Fluffy wavy brown hair. Brown eyes that always hold a sense of happiness. Wears dresses or fluffy sweaters with baggy jeans. Has a bit tanned skin.

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False -

Hero Outfit - Camouflage outfit. Dark green tinted glass that makes it impossible to see her facial features. Worn leather fingerless gloves and army boots.

Casual Wear - Light blonde hair that she wears up in a ponytail. Light blue eyes. Wears goggles on her forehead and wears a short sleeve short with a plaid jacket tied around her waist as well as ripped jeans. Covered in scars and has a sense of danger to her.

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Bdubs -

Hero Outfit - A light yellow color with a more toned down red splashes/swirls. Red tinted glass that makes it a bit tricky to see his facial features. Boots and gloves are a yellow with red stained fingertips. Has a sword and grenades attached to the belt of his suit.

Casual Wear - Curly brown hair thats quite long and is normally in a man bun. Brown eyes that hold a tinge of chaos and kindness. A red bandana is normally tied across his forehead, ripped jeans, a trench coat, and a white shirt.  Normally has a cheeky grin and has tan to his skin. His fingers are stained yellow.

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Jevin -

(I had fun making him-)

Hero Outfit - A bright blue that just. Pops. Dark blue is made to shade where the joints are. Blue tinted glass!

Casual Wear - He has wobbly blue gel like hair. His skin is like a slimes although its blue! Everything. Is. BLUE. White hoodie is the only difference, but he wears blue ripped jeans. ALMOST EVERYTHING IS BLUE. TAKE BLUE AWAY FROM THIS MAN-

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TFC -

Hero Outfit - A muted gray color that looks like its been through a lot but is still held together amazingly well. A pretty classic suit, normal glass, and such. Its pretty old fashioned.

Casual Wear - Gray fluffy hair + big santa like beard. Normally wears a nice warm sweater and normal jeans. Has sweet brown eyes and just a calming look to him.

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Scar -

Hero Outfit - A darkish brown color with a bit lighter brown in the areas with joints. Glass isnt tinted. Fingerless gloves. Helmet as little cat ears and tail area made out of same stuff as Grians suit

Casual Wear - Fluffy brown hair brown hair with little cat ears poking out. Wears a white shirt with ripped jeans and a plaid jacket normally. He has green eyes that have a shine of kindness and chaos. Normally has a bag on him with everything he needs/wants in it. Large noticeable scar right across his face

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Hypno -

Hero Outfit - A dark purple color with yellow swirls all over. Gloves + Boots are this color as well. Yellow tinted glass. Theres a small drawing of a yellow swirl right in the middle of the forehead of his helmet. 

Casual Wear - Blonde hair thats quite long and held in a small loose low ponytail - he has a bandana that he normally wears. Bright yellow eyes and grayish skin. Wears a black t-shirt normally as well as ripped jeans and fingerless gloves.

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Keralis - 

Hero Outfit - Lime color with some a light green shading the area where his joints are. His gloves are grippy so he can grip easier. His boots have springs in them so he can jump far higher. Green tinted glass.

Casual Wear - Brown hair thats almost always in a man bun and he has stubble. His eyes shift between green and blue based off of the temp of the room hes in. Wears whatever he feels like, his outfits dont really have a ‘habit’.

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Wels -

Hero Outfit - Gold and white fully armored and bulky thing but he makes it look like it weighs nothing. Swords/blades rest on the belt of his armor. Has gray tinted glass. Gold linings.

Casual Wear - Short well taken care of light blonde hair. Wears armor no matter what - as well as constantly having a sword on him or a metal rod. Wears ‘elegant’ like clothing.

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Etho -

Hero Outfit - A dark blue-gray armor/suit with gray tinted glass. Golden linings that actually doesn't stick out to much. (BECAUSE THIS MAN DESERVES IT) Boots have a spring in it but he cant jump nearly as high as Keralis.

Casual Wear - White spikey hair with two mismatched eyes - Left eye is red and right eye is blue. Massive scar over his left eye. Really pale and has pointed ears. He wears a mask (like you should when you go out), a white button up shirt with a green winter jacket. He has golden earrings. Wears fingerless gloves. Has a friendship bracelet with Beef and Pause - His bracelet is a soft brown color with spikes of black here and there and the other is a blue with brown. Has hearing aids.

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Gem -

Hero outfit -  Very easy to move around in. Not buckley or metal. Made out of fabric. A light brown natural color with a hood. Has a belt around her waist to hold her guns and arrows.

Casual war - Dark ginger hair with light green eyes that sparkle with chaos. Very few scars can be seen. She has deer ears and antlers. Wears warm comfy clothing, light golden earrings, brown thumb gloves, and a necklace with a two feathers and a locket.

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Pearl - 

Hero outfit - Slightly gray metal with dark blue glass. The metal is aged and dented. Boots have a slight spring. 

Casual wear - Black hair thats normally neatly braided and light brown eyes. Pointed ears. Her fingers, ears, nose, and toes all are black at the tip and spread throughout a bit till it reaches the base of a body part.

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- VILLAIN’S OUTFITS -

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Cub - 

Villain outfit -  A sandy like yellow with yellow tinted glass and all. Theres some brown around his finger tips and his boots are stained brown a bit. He carries a kanata. 

Casual wear - Long blonde beard that he braided. Hes bald. Skin is a bit yellow in color and his eyes are brown. Wears a black no sleeves turtleneck with a leather jacket and ripped jeans.

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Evil Xisuma -

Villain outfit - Blood red color with a black helmet and red tinted glass. Carries a sword on him at all times - even if just partolling.  Armor looks a bit worn but works fine.

Casual wear - Long black hair that he wears in a man bun as well as a beard. He has red eyes and grayish skin. Normally wears a dark blue shirt with jeans or just a hoodie and jeans.

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Green eyes Beef-

Villain outfit - A vibrant green color with some black splotches here and there. Black tinted glass. Carries a sword and two guns.

Casual wear - Curly brown hair thats short, has stubble. Bright BRIGHT green eyes. Normally has a cocky grin. His outfit choice normally changes a lot but he normally wears a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a black undershirt.

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Skinless Beef -

Villain outfit - N/A

Casual wear - Soft brown hair with a stubble and he has brown eyes. From his chin down theres massive burn marks but you cant really notice them. Normally has headphones around his neck. Wears a big puffy sweater, sweatpants, gloves, and boots to hide the burns.

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Hels - 

Villain outfit - Pitch black with red swirls and red tinted glass. Roughed up gloves and boots. Carries metal rods with him.

Casual wear - Ginger hair that he wears down, its around shoulder length. Blue eyes. Skin looks a bit charred. Wears whatever he thinks is comfortable. But its normally a jean jacket with comfortable pants and a white undershirt.

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NPC - 

Villain outfit - A light brown color with gray tinted glass. Springy boots and he doesnt wear gloves

Casual wear - He doesnt have hair. Hes sliver as hes a robot - everything bout him is robotic. He likes to wear thin clothing so he doesnt overheat.

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BeetleJhost - 

Villain outfit - A gray color with some green here and there. Black tinted glass. Armor looks ripped somehow even though its not.

Casual wear - Gray hair with some green strains. Gray skin with green eyes. Normally wears a blue hoodie with ripped jeans and a hat.

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AngelCleo -

Villain outfit - A light golden like yellow. Yellow tinted glass. Her joints are shaded by a darker yellow. She carries a gun on her.

Casual wear - Long blonde hair that she keeps in a bun with a halo floating above her. Angel wings. Very pale skin that looks to be glowing almost. Blue eyes. She typically wears ‘royal’ clothing. (Mostly just wears elegant clothing, like flowy ropes, etc etc)

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Badtimes -

Villain outfit - Dark blue armor/suit with black stained glass. Armor is a bit ripped in some parts. He has the same material as Scar/Ren/Grian for where his tail + ears are.

Casual wear - Fluffy brown hair with dog ears + tail. His dog parts make it easy to tell what kind of emotion hes feeling. Normally has a cocky grin. Typically wears a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a random undershirt + sunglasses.

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- NORMAL PEOPLE - 

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Iskall -

Powers(?) - Diamonds and emeralds form on his body, they look like freckles even up close. As long as you dont pay close attention to the ones on his face, they pass as freckles. he can also weld pretty easily due to him being able to summon sparks in his hands!

Normally wears - He has rough brown hair but its pretty well taken care of. He has one brown eye and the other is replaced by cypro tech. His fingertips + toes are frosted a light blue and emerald green. Random patches of diamonds/emeralds. Normally wears a baggy green shirt, ripped jeans and roughed up leather fingerless gloves.

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Beef -

Powers (?) - N/A

Normally wears - He has short brown hair and a long beard. Has a friendship bracelet with Etho  and Pause- His bracelet is green and black and the other is brown and blue He has bright brown eyes and hes pretty tanned. He normally wears whatever he thinks is comfortable.

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xB -

Powers (?) - N/A

Normally wears- Long brown hair he wears up in a man bun with faint stubble. Wears a white shirt, zip up hoodie, and ripped jeans. Has a dagger on him a lot. Baby blue eyes.

A/N: HOLY SHIT ITS FUCKING DONE AT LAST-

[jay-me-says]

A Flight Fit For Two

Summary: Mumbo gets lost in a redstone project for who-knows-how-long and Grian comes to check on him.  Relationships: Platonic Mumbo and Grian Word Count: 1,272

Also posted on AO3 

How long had it been since Mumbo had taken a break? Hours? A day?

Whatever the case, his joints ached and his fingers were dyed a harsh crimson from all the redstone he’d been handling. His jacket had been balled up and tossed to the side ages ago, leaving his white button-down vulnerable to the redstone dust. The stains were sure to be a pain to remove. Maybe if he was extra sweet, he could convince Stress to give him a little magical help with them again. She’d sworn last time that he needed to either start dealing with the stains himself or change before he started working because she was done dealing with it for him. But she had also said that the last five times he’d asked.

Mumbo really had meant to start changing shirts before working, he didn’t want to keep bothering Stress with it, but it was difficult. Sometimes he got an idea and he just couldn’t get to his journal, or even his closet, fast enough. Sometimes it truly felt like if he didn’t start working on the idea right that instant he would just burst. He’d spoken to Iskall about it once, relieved to find his fellow Hermit had the same experience. And, once, Grian had mentioned a similar drive for building ideas.

Thinking about his friends, Mumbo pulls his communicator from a pocket and checks the activity list to see if either of the former Sahara members had been active recently. A small smile tugs at his mustached features when he sees Grian’s face and name on the list. He’d have to stop by later. After just a little more work…

~

Five minutes turned into an hour, which turned into two. Mumbo was completely and utterly lost in his project. He kept messing with the fine details, trying to get everything just right. At this point, his aching joints and dry, dusty hands begged for a break. Just a little more, he replied each time.

He was so enthralled by the project that he almost didn’t hear the rockets.

After taking a second to register the familiar, high sound of the fireworks, he looks up. There, twirling gracefully through the sky, was a friendly, winged figure in red.

Mumbo swears he could watch Grian fly for hours. His movements in the air were utterly mesmerizing. (Not quite as mesmerizing as Mumbo’s redstone projects, but nearly.) He thinks it’s astounding how his friend manages to make flight look so natural. Like he was born for the air and the elytra is just a subpar replacement for what should be real wings.

The builder lands close by, twirling midair as he touches down gently. He shoots Mumbo a smile and the taller man instantly smiles back, glad to see his friend.

“Hey, man,” Grian says as he approaches. “You’ve been on the activity list for a while, but I hadn’t seen you for a bit so I thought I would check up on you.”

He pauses to survey the jumble of redstone, then Mumbo’s stained hands and his face. As he meets the other man’s eyes, slight concern shifts into his features. From previous experiences, Mumbo has reason to suspect that he’s about to be forced away from his precious project.  

“When was the last time you slept?” Grian asks.

Mumbo mutters something, even he isn’t quite sure what, and looks at the ground to avoid Grian’s eyes. His knees scream at him to sit or stand- anything. He’d been kneeling for who-knows-how-long and when Grian had landed, Mumbo had simply shifted to face him rather than getting up.

“What was that?”

“I, er, I don’t actually know when I last slept,” Mumbo clarifies, glancing up at Grian again.

The brunette looks slightly aghast. “Mumbo,” he complains, half-gasping.

The redstoner sighs. “Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. I just got so wrapped up in this project, I had to start working on it as soon as the idea came to me.”

Grian still frowns a little, but nods. “I get it, I’m guilty of that kind of stuff, too. But you should get some rest soon. Or, now, actually. And when was the last time you ate?”

Mumbo hadn’t even considered that and, suddenly, his stomach feels very, very empty. Like, void-in-the-End empty. Insanely empty.

Grian takes his silence as an answer. He crosses the short distance between the two and extends a hand. Mumbo takes it and lets Grian help him to his feet. It’s an unnecessary gesture, but a sweet one that reminds Mumbo of why he likes being friends with Grian.

About a dozen things in his body crack on the way up. The two meet eyes, hands still clasped between them, looking somewhere between shocked and appalled. Then, they completely break down into laughter. Mumbo lets go of Grian’s hand as he doubles over, hands on his knees, shoulders shaking.

When they finally gain their composure, the grins stick to their faces.

Adjusting the straps on his elytra and pulling out some rockets, Grian says, “Alright, alright. Enough. Let’s get you back to your base. Think you can make the flight back?”

Mumbo smiles a little more when he notices Grian now has redstone dust on his hand and a little smudge of it on his face. “Yeah, it’s not far, I’ll be alright. You might want to wipe your face off a bit there, mate. And your hands.”

He looks confused for a second, then snorts when he looks down at his hand. “Ah, I see.” He wanders to a nearby pond to rinse off what he can while Mumbo grabs his jacket from the ground nearby. The red dust leaves behind a stain they both know will be there for at least another day.

Once Mumbo has gathered a few more odds and ends into a shulker box and nestled it in his inventory, the pair set off.

Flying with Grian is something Mumbo treasures. It’s Grian’s thing, as much as building. When someone flies with him, they get to see his movements up close. To Mumbo, it feels like being invited to a special little world that’s separate from the ground.

Of course, Grian flies with plenty of his friends all of the time. It’s nothing important. But that doesn’t make it any less special in Mumbo’s eyes.

The flight is over too soon. Mumbo had hoped to catch Grian doing a few more tricks before they landed, but the promise of food makes up for it.

The two wander over to Mumbo’s food chest, chatting and catching up while the redstoner eats. Once finished, he interrupts their conversation with another big yawn. Grian would later joke to him that he swears he saw his jaw unhinge.

“You really should sleep now, Mumbo. We should hang out when you get some energy back, though,” the builder says.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll send something in chat when I wake up.”

“Sounds good. Sleep well, Mumbo.”

“Bye, Grian.”

With a final wave, he launches off from Mumbo’s base on his elytra. Mumbo watches him fly away until he’s nothing but a tiny red speck against the blue sky. Then, he turns towards his bed. With Grian gone, exhaustion has finally set in. It seems impossible to him now that he had even kept his eyelids open during their conversation.

It feels amazing when he finally flops onto the squishy bed, pulling the black bedding up around him. As he drifts off into a deep sleep, Mumbo smiles a little, feeling taken care of. He’s glad he has friends like Grian to depend on.  

‘

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