#like grian doesn’t have wings. but look at how many of us draw him with them

[lethargic-lavender]

i may have gone a little crazy…

(in order : @bebagerie, @stardrxp, @ethoslut, @wizardscar, @vwoop-prince, @chambers003, @addaxbones, @fakezircon, @doitformywife)

i think it would be such a fun little bit for hermitblr bit for folks to pass around their minecraft skins without any other design context and let people make up designs (as hermitblr artists do) to see how other people interpret it

[mochiwrites]

I’m gonna need you to write smt about Scar/Mumbo making Grian fall over my bro. for scientific purposes frfr

this is excellent timing because I wanted to write a small thing so — have a two times scar and mumbo made grian fall and the one (1) time he made them fall instead <3

1. Mumbo

There’s a sort of giddy excitement rushing through Grian as he sets up his tent right beside Mumbo and Scar’s. He doesn’t think he’s been so excited about something in a while, and it isn’t just because of the future opportunities to poke at the goat.

Hermitcraft has had many a prank wars before, and Grian has always enjoyed every single one of them. He��ll gleefully take any opportunity to mess with his friends, and to cause an all out war full of pranking is a fantastic outcome for the avian.

Except this time it’s different, more exciting than it has been. And it has something to do with the fact that he’s formed an alliance with Mumbo and Scar, his two favorite people.

It’s something he’s never had the chance to do before, not when most of the conflicts Grian has started has put Scar as his main target to pester. Mumbo has (mostly) been at his side through most conflicts, but Grian has never had the joy of teaming with Scar.

And well, who wouldn’t be giddy about teaming with their partners for a prank war?

Grian can feel the way his wings twitch and shift with excitement as he sets down some wool, a buzzing energy about him. He isn’t sure how long he’s been working for, but Scar and Mumbo have already finished their tents.

Scar flew off back to Scarland to grab some things to decorate the area they’ve set up in, leaving just Mumbo and Grian for the moment.

“Gri?” Mumbo calls to him, drawing a hum from the avian. “You gonna take a break any time soon, buttercup? I uh, we’ve been at this for a while now.”

Grian is only half listening to him, much too focused on getting the shape of the top of the tent right. He sets a fence post down, putting bits of wool around it to test. “Hmmm, mhm, yeah,” he answers Mumbo.

He hears a fond little huff, “You’re not listening to me, are you?”

(What Grian doesn’t see is Mumbo glance at the concrete powder in his inventory, an idea in mind.)

“Hmmmm.” Grian removes a block of two, flexing his wings so he can fly back and get an idea of how it looks. Something is missing, he thinks. He glances over to Mumbo and Scar’s tents, searching for a little inspiration. Should he use some of the cherry leaves? Outside or inside? Or—

For a moment his mind blanks, wings falling shut. His stomach drops as he falls from the sky, barely registering a muffled yell.

When his head feels less foggy, Grian blinks, staring up at the sky. “Oh my goodness! Grian I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d just plummet like that!” Mumbo’s face appears in his field of vision, and oh. Mumbo’s holding him.

Grian looks over to where his tent is, and where he should have been floating in the air still. Why did he suddenly fall like tha—

His brows furrow as he looks to his partner, “Mumbo…” he starts, “did you drop that concrete powder again?”

Mumbo at least has the decency to look embarrassed, “It was er… more of a test really. T-To see if maybe I could use it to stop you from working yourself too hard!”

Grian stares at him for a second or two before shaking his head. “You’re very lucky we’re on the same side, mister. Else I’d— I mean the man in the chicken costume would be flooding your base with chickens,” he teases, before planting a kiss to Mumbo’s cheek. He jumps out of the man’s arms. “But I guess a little break won’t hurt.” He looks at Mumbo with a grin, “Buttercup.”

Mumbo’s red face delights Grian greatly.

2. Scar

Of all people Grian was concerned about having the knowledge of this sudden new… glitch, it was definitely Scar.

Mumbo claimed that Scar was wholesome. Grian begged to disagree.

He’s quite aware of how chaotic their partner can be (it’s partly what drew Grian to him in the first place), and giving Scar a power that can make Grian do the equivalent of blue screening is dangerous. Very dangerous.

Where Mumbo might use it for lawfully evil purposes, Grian is quite aware that Scar will use it on a whim. Because he can.

No matter how much gravel and concrete powder Mumbo confiscates from Scar, the man somehow keeps appearing with more! And unfortunately for Grian, Scar is very entertained by his glitch.

Standing inside his tent, Grian looks around at the empty space. He doesn’t have much planned for his interior at the moment, nothing besides a bed and a chest.

Humming to himself, Grian walks out of his tent and over to the chest filled with building materials he and Scar set up right in the middle of Buttercup Camp. He flicks it open and rummages through it, grabbing some things for decoration. After, Grian shuts the chest and walks back to his tent.

At least that’s what he intends to do.

He gets a single step in before his mind goes all foggy and his limbs turn to jelly. Just before he can fall two strong arms wrap around his middle and catches him.

“Why hello there, buttercup!” Scar grins at him, “It seems like you’ve fallen for me~.”

Grian’s cheeks warm and the fogginess quickly wears off. “Scar!” he exclaims, lightly scolding him, but Grian’s heart isn’t actually in it.

Scar sets him upright as he giggles, and Grian whacks him with his wing. “I’m going to make Mumbo empty all of your pockets!” he warns, shaking his head.

“Oh, you can try mister!” Scar laughs, stealing a kiss from Grian before running back to his own tent.

Grian watches him go with fondness in his eyes.

+1. Grian

The sun is setting in the sky when Grian enacts his revenge.

All day he had been falling thanks to his partners, and Grian has the perfect plan to get them back. Simple, but perfect.

By now all three of their tents have been set up, and their sniffer has hatched. Grian’s quite pleased with the name, knowing it will definitely strike fear into Doc’s heart.

Mumbo and Scar stand in the little clearing right by their tents, the pair murmuring softly to one another as they watch the sun set.

They’re completely distracted. Perfect.

Grian waits for a moment or two before he takes a running leap. “Revenge!” he cries out as he crashes into both of them, wrapping his arms around them. He hears Scar and Mumbo yell in surprise, and the three of them crash to the ground.

Somehow, Grian ends up on top of the both, wings sprawled over their forms. Mumbo and Scar are trapped under him.

“What was that for?” Mumbo questions, looking up at Grian with furrowed brows.

“That was for dropping falling blocks all day.” Grian gives a cheeky grin in reply, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Awww, but it was so fun.” Scar pouts, “You fit so perfectly in my arms, buttercup.”

Grian sits back, once more feeling his face warm. “You’re having way too much fun with this, Scar. The glitch and the name.” He stares at the man, trying to a frown but utterly failing.

“It’s a nice name,” Mumbo chimes in, causing Scar to eagerly nod his head in agreement. “And it was rather to catch you.”

Huffing at them both, Grian moves to lay in between them, laying on his stomach so his wings aren’t crushed. “You’re both spoons,” he grumbles, but doesn’t hesitate to snuggle with them.

“Comes with the territory I’m afraid,” Mumbo laughs softly, turning on his side to smile at both Grian and Scar.

“We should find a glitch that makes Mumbo fall into our arms,” Scar comments, his tone laced with fondness.

“W-What, no!” Mumbo protests quickly, flustered. “I’d be too difficult to catch, I’m all lanky. You and Grian are much easier for that sort of thing!”

Grian hums, “No, no. I agree with Scar. I think we can make it happen.”

Mumbo groans while Scar and Grian share a smile, already thinking of ways to mess with Mumbo.

And when they switch to looking up at the stars, Grian tugs them both close with his wings, a pleased smile on his face.

[huskynotwolf]

How to draw a Map (gone wrong) — Scott

From my fanfic Watchers and Hunters on Quotev

”Wait so he can listen and talk to us in our brain but he can’t physically talk with us??” Scar asked. He held up an empty scroll and waved it. “Grian are you seeing this? I’m ready.” 

Tell the idiot to shut up. Martyn muttered, annoyed. I need answers and you’re gonna answer them when we get you out. I snapped back. He didn’t reply but I could hear angry growling sounds. You’re getting Grian out as well. I don’t know what you’re doing, but you will get him out. He grumbled before leaving my mindspace. I sighed. “It doesn’t feel right that he can eavesdrop on us and we can’t.” I growled grumpily.

”Yes, but that means they can show us how to get there to free them.” Ren pointed out. Gem chose that time to thrust herself back into the conversation. “Pearl’s gone,” she announced. “I couldn’t find her, but she took her wolf out.” Scar’s eyes widened. “She has a wolf?” He asked, confused and curious.

”Her name’s Nightingale. She literally has full armour. But Nightingale was still there. She took another wolf.” Gem shrugged. “She’s full of surprises.” Xisuma had reappeared next to me. “Scott,” he breathed next to my ear. “I know where Pearl is. Somehow she ran off into the forest.” Then he continued walking down the corridor, turning right at his room.

“—no, the house is that way.” Ren instructed. “The village is this way.” He pointed to two separate spots and Gem sketched a building and a village down to the map. “Honestly, that looks horrible.” Scar commented, writing on a scroll. Gem glared at him and shoved him the pencil. “You do it, then.” She growled angrily.

Ren sighed, picked up a pencil and sketched a large tall rectangle, then labeled it Central Tower. He moved the pencil, counting inches and buildings, then marked Tunnel at a square that looks suspiciously like a subway. Gem had reclaimed the pencil and was drawing a crude rectangle with the words Prison? on it.

Left of that block. The one Gem marked as Prison. Martyn said in my mind. I thought you left. I snapped back. All three of them’s just annoying at this point. He mumbled. Then he followed up with, Grian said that next to the big block Gem drew there are two wings. He said he thinks that we’re on the left one. He instructed. So you two have to work together? I thought you didn’t get along well. I said as I drew the long rectangles and marked a dot on it. Ren looked at me in surprise.

“this does not look like a map.” Gem muttered, completing the map with their current position. “Come on, man. That stupid Watcher’s the one who’s seeing the places and Martyn’s the one telling me. It’s not my fault he couldn’t see.” Ren resorted.

”You know what?” Gem raised her voice. “Scar, Ren, Scott, you three will go. We can’t have too many people going at once.” She smirked. “Good luck, gentlemen.”

Contents

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[otherworldlyhope]

Soo I might have done a thing and written 2k words off a single picture.... I couldn't help it thought because @foxxology made this insanely good piece of art that I seriously can't stop staring at.

Anyways, here you go.

~ ~ ~

It’s just a regular summer night. 

Grian sits on the edge of a building, his feet dangling over hundreds of stories of empty air. Maybe at the beginning of all this he would be scared of falling, but it has been months, and he’s barely gotten close. 

Maybe it’s because of the reassuring wings on his back, maybe it’s because he has finally gotten enough experience to keep his feet firmly on any overhang. Most of his fights have ended up with him on narrow ledges and pipes, the pain of being a winged vigilante.

He doesn’t startle when there’s another person beside him. To most villains, the 'masked' hero is terrifyingly silent, but Grian has come to learn how to pick up on the slightest of noise. He heard HotGuy minutes ago when he landed on the roof. 

“Did you have fun watching me, HotGuy?” He playfully tilts his head, but doesn’t meet the hero’s tinted glasses. His gaze is still on the city beyond, carefully watching for any signs of trouble. 

“What do you mean?” The hero defends quickly, pulling a dramatic hand to his chest. His mouth is agape with something close to shock, but Grian isn’t fooled. “I just got here.”

“Sure you did.” Grian drones, rolling his eyes as shifts his position ever so slightly. His wings barely brush against the hero, and he draws back as if it burned him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol right now? The city must be seconds away from collapsing without you on the streets.”

The smile doesn’t fade from the hero’s face, in fact it only widens. Grian is stunned by just how white his teeth are. How many whitening strips does this guy use? 

“Have you been watching me birdie?” HotGuy sings, leaning closer to him. This time Grian doesn’t shift back, but his entire face bursts into flame. 

“No-I- of course not.” He quickly turns, cursing the warm weather for not cooling his burning cheeks. “Any good vigilante would know what your patrol is. And stop calling me birdie.”

He adds on that last part snappishly, almost regretting it when the grin slightly falls. HotGuy is quick to pull it back up to its regular level, albeit a little forced. 

“How about a little wager then?” The hero proposes. 

When Grian’s face has finally cooled enough to not make him look like a teenage girl in love, he turns fully. A daring smile finds its way onto his lips.

“What is your bet?” 

“I keep calling you birdie.” He holds his hand up as he speaks, that gleaming smile almost blinding now. “And I teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow on a day of my choosing.”

“What do I get out of this then?”

“Anything of your choosing. Equal value of course.”

“Hmmmm.” Grian sits on the thought for a moment, letting his mind go a little wild. Would HotGuy blush just like him if he asked for a kiss? Would that be too far? Yes, obviously. He needs to tone it back. “A favor of my choosing at any time. It will obviously be nothing huge.”

“Deal.” The hero stretches out his hand, black fingerless gloves hiding the most prominent scars on them. Grian has seen them though, at times when he thought no one was watching. 

He tentatively shakes his hand, trying not to focus on just how warm HotGuy’s palm is. They probably shake for too long, but Grian relishes in the contact. 

They both stand, and then a thought hits Grian. 

“What is the bet even for?”

“Oh.” The hero laughs, “Doc’s creepers are out on the street again. Whoever gets the most wins.”

Before he’s even finished talking the hero shoots an arrow past Grian, and jumps off the building. The arrow quivers as the rope attached is pulled taut, HotGuy already halfway down the building.

“You jerk.” Grian cries as he unfurls his wings, carelessly jumping after him. The sound of the hero’s laughter bounces off the glass, and Grian can’t help but smile.

~ ~ ~ 

“Stupid, stupid.” Grian mutters to himself as he paces. He checks his phone again, making sure he has the right address in his phone. It’s right, but HotGuy is nowhere to be seen. 

He’s been breathless since the moment he woke up this morning. After last week’s unfortunately lost bet, he had been informed by HotGuy that they would be doing lessons soon. Now he finds himself standing in front of a practice building, the hero nowhere in sight.

When it hits ten past three he turns to walk away. Maybe he got the date wrong or something. Or maybe he didn’t actually want to see you. A tiny little voice whispers in his head. He shakes the thought away, not realizing the person directly in front of him. 

His glasses smash into a very soft wall, and he almost laughs at his clumsiness. That is, until he remembers there was no wall behind him. Quickly he steps back, his face flushing quickly as he sees HotGuy right there. 

“Oh I thought you weren’t going to show.” He stumbles out, pulling his hand to his neck. The sun is beating down on them, so he prays that the hero thinks his blush is sunburn or even heat exhaustion at this point.

“Why wouldn’t I birdie?” HotGuy teases, effortlessly calming his nerves. 

“I didn’t think you would actually want to be seen in public with a vigilante.” Grian admits, digging his toe into the ground. His eyes stay on the sidewalk, realizing just how stupid he sounds. Of course he won’t mind, they’ve been catching villains together for months now.

“Of course not.” There’s a feather light touch on his arm. He looks up to see HotGuy leading them into the building. “I rented the place out though, just in case you didn’t want to be seen.”

“I don't care either.” He mutters. HotGuy tilts his head to hear, so he just shakes his head. “Nothing.”

The building is entirely empty, not another soul in sight. HotGuy babbles as he turns lights on and closes windows. 

“-so I usually come here when I’m tired of training at the hero complex.” He explains, closing the final door behind them. Grian’s stomach drops as he realizes just how alone they are. 

Even when they were alone on the streets, there was always a chance of someone watching. This is the first time it’s ever just been the two of them in one room. The thought both terrifies and excites him.

“Are you sure this isn’t some ploy to get me arrested?” He says it in a teasing voice, but HotGuy’s jaw drops quickly. He holds his hands out, bumbling to deny the claim. “I was just kidding with you.”

The hero lets out a loud sigh, and Grian puts on his most mischievous grin. 

“You couldn't get me anyways, even in a closed room like this,”

“Oh you-”

“So what bow am I using today, HotGuy?” The name dances on his lips, easy to say after months of use. It’s satisfying to cut him off too. The way the hero pouts like a child always makes his day. “Do I get to use your special one?”

His hands inch to the bag that had been dropped on the table, but HotGuy is quick to step in the way. He nervously chuckles as he carefully moves Grian’s hands.

“I have a special one for you.” He hides the contents of the bag with his body as he rummages through it. “It’s pink!” He presents it with a flourish, and Grian…Grian really likes it actually. He should feel some sort of embarrassment as it is very obviously a child’s bow, but a large grin stretches his cheeks instead.

“It matches my shirt exactly.” He exclaims, pulling it up to his cropped heart shirt. For some reason it feels like the hero’s gaze lingers a little too long on the homemade crop, but he just chalks that up to wishful thinking. No way HotGuy would appreciate his hand sewn shirt.

“It really suits you.” Grian can’t tell if he means the shirt or the bow, but he assumes the latter. Suddenly the hero claps, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “How about we get this started?”

Grian very quickly learns that he is absolutely rotten at using a bow. His main weapon is a handgun, so the effort needed to draw a bow is unfamiliar to him. Even if it is a kid’s bow, he struggles to get his arrow anywhere near the target.

Every shot that HotGuy takes hits bullseye, of course. Eventually Grian gives up and just watches as the hero shows off. He can’t help but smile as there’s such an intense focus on his face. It’s interesting seeing the hero with anything other than a good natured smile. 

Without even thinking he pulls his glasses up to rest on his hair, wanting to appreciate the show without a tinge of pink. 

“Why aren’t you shooting? The only way to get better is-” HotGuy cuts off as he notices the sudden lack of glasses. The arrow he lets go of still manages to hit dead center, annoyingly. “Why did you do that?!”

Grian snickers as he fiddles with the glasses in his hair. “Like you couldn’t tell what I looked like before.” His tone is impossibly dry. “They are dollar store heart glasses that I replace after almost every fight. You can see literally everything.”

“I-it’s just. Your eyes are really b-” The hero pauses and then suddenly pulls the glasses from his own face. “There. Even.”

HotGuy’s eyes are a startling shade of green. They shine despite the bad lighting, catching Grian’s breath. 

“Yeah, even.”

They stare at each other for a moment before HotGuy offers a hand. Grian lets himself be pulled back to the targets, ready to humiliate himself again. 

“I don't know what’s wrong, but I just can’t-”

His entire frame goes rigid as he feels a light touch just on the edge of his torso. Black, fingerless gloves slide along his outstretched arm, pulling his bow up just a bit higher. The other hand rests where the croptop meets his skin, a light breath just in his ear. He’s suddenly grateful he pulled his wings in for this.

“I think your problem is that you’re just releasing the arrow willy nilly.” Grian has to suppress the shiver that builds up in his whole body at just how close the voice is to his ear. Once again HotGuy has to maneuver his arm up, and his entire body tenses. 

“Keep breathing, CuteGuy.” He says quietly, and it doesn’t help in the slightest. If anything, it only makes his breathing that much worse. 

The one good thing is that he’s facing away. He’s sure his cheeks are as red as a tomato, which would very obviously give him away. He barely looks to his side, and HotGuy seems just as calm as normal with all this. The hero shifts behind him, his hand sliding slightly down more onto Grian’s skin. His entire side is on fire, burning at the point of contact. 

“Now release the arrow at the very end of a breath.” HotGuy instructs, loudly exaggerating his own breathing. 

It takes a moment, but Grian is able to sync with his. Only when he feels steady does he let the arrow fly, It goes slightly to the right, but this time it actually hits the target! He would have celebrated by jumping or something, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t because the hand on his waist is still very present. His other hand follows Grian’s arm as he slowly lowers the bow, fingers still pressing into the skin. 

“Do you need help with any more shots?” HotGuy says quietly, waiting for Grian to do something, anything. 

The problem is that he’s rooted to the spot. The only thing he can manage is turning his head, which only makes it all the worse. The hero’s face is too close, only inches from his own now. His breath entirely catches in his throat as he once again finds those gorgeous green eyes. 

“Um-” Grian chokes out, trying not to focus on the way the hero’s fingers barely move against his skin. “I don't know?”

They’re so close. All it would take is a daring move, and he could do it, no favor needed. He just needs to do it. Just as he starts to close his eyes, HotGuy pulls away. He turns quickly, but Grian swears he sees a hint of red on his cheeks. It doesn’t overshadow the disappointment lingering, and the sudden emptiness where gloved hands once were though.

“Let’s just keep on shooting, birdie.” HotGuy laughs nervously. “You’ll be able to do it eventually.”

Yeah, maybe I will.

He’s not thinking about the bow in his hands at all as he forms that one thought. In fact, he doesn’t think about shooting for the rest of their time in that small room. Alone.

[funky-lady]

Move to Boatem!

The Boatem Crew Boards The Dream Cruise Ship

A/N: This takes place after The Blood God, On Vacation, and before The Dreamslayer Arc

Phil paces in front of the door, wings tense with febrile anxiety, twitching in a way that betrays how impatient and worried he is, especially when paired with the somber frown marring his face.

The crows perched all over his home have long since given up on calming him down, staring at him with worry.

He ignores them, more worried about his best friend than Chat, as much as he usually appreciates their presence.

Techno went to visit Dream a week ago.

He hasn’t come back.

There’s still no word of, or from, him.

Slamming his hand against the door frame in frustration, he grits his teeth in pain.

“Woah! Phil! Are you alright?”

He looks up to see Scar and Grian standing on his doorstep, watching him with wide worried eyes through his front door, that he left open to be able to keep an eye on his surroundings.

He clears his throat, massaging his sore knuckles and wrapping his wings around his body as he realizes for the first time how cold his little home has gotten, the cold biting wind of the tundra darting through his open door.

“… yeah. Just worried is all. I haven’t heard from Techno in a week.”

Grian hums, pulling Scar inside and shutting the door before heading straight for one of his furnaces and getting to work on lighting it.

“Man it’s cold in here! You’ve got to take better care of yourself, Phil.”

He nods in agreement and heaves a heavy sigh, collapsing in the armchair closest to the fireplace.

“I know. It’s just… Techno went to visit Dream in the prison. There’s so many things that could’ve gone wrong.”

Scar pulls a thick blanket from a shulker box and carefully wraps it around his shoulders. Phil looks up at him in surprise, a warm smile blooming on his face similarly to the warmth spreading inside his chest. He tugs the blanket closer, noticing how it’s clearly hand-made. Running a hand across the blanket, he gets a good feel of the incredible softness of the fleece blanket.

“Hm… that does sound worrying. Luckily for you, Boatem can help you! Free of charge, as you are a good friend of the company!”

Already, he feels warmer than he did moments ago, the sensation drawing a pleased sigh out of him. He relaxes back into his chair and basks in the slight amount of heat produced by the fire Grian managed to start in the furnace.

Pondering on Scar’s offer, a deep frown etches itself into the skin of his forehead in his worry.

“Really? How? The security around Pandora’s Vault is as tight as it can get!”

“Oh I know that… unfortunately for him, the security the Warden put in place around his little prison only counters the conventional kind of unconventional methods one can use to infiltrate a prison. Unfortunately for him, Sam will never be able to expect the level of chaos and weirdness that is a common day occurrence in Boatem.”

“Right… So what’s the plan?”

Scar gives him a secretive smirk. “Don’t freak out, my friend. That’s the first step.”

“Wha–”

He flinches back as vex screeches fill the room, Scar’s eyes glowing silver as a swarm of vexes spawn around him.

He cups one with both of his scarred hands, engaging in a screeched conversation with the small creature.

A few minutes later it flies away, phasing through spruce walls of his cabin and heading in the direction of the prison.

He doesn’t even want to ask.

“This is a recognition mission, mind you. I don’t think going any further than that would be wise. The last thing we need is for Dream to escape.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I get it. This is already more than enough. Thanks.” He sighs in exhausted resignation, giving the man a small thankful nod.

Scar gives him an acknowledging nod and they settle to wait in silence for the vex to return.

A second screeched conversation ensues following the small winged demon’s return.

“Bad news, Phil. Techno got trapped inside Dream’s cell. It also looks like Sam and Quackity are getting desperate for information about it. And with the moon getting bigger ever since our arrival and Boatem nearly ruining the server’s economy, I’m afraid they might do something drastic soon. Something along the lines of hurting you to force Techno to spill the beans and vice-versa.”

Phil buries his head in his hands with a shaky exhale, the crow perched on his shoulder grooming his hair soothingly. The avian almost gives into his instincts that are screaming at him to lean into the touch.

“Shit. This is bad…”

Grian is poking at the fire thoughtfully when he recovers enough to look up. Phil feels his limbs relax as the temperature inside the cabin becomes a lot more bearable. The uncontrollable shaking raking through them subsiding while his wing unfurl. They stretch out with a few very satisfying pops, happy to finally be able to move about after being wrapped around him for the past ten minutes or so in an effort to keep him warm.

“You know, you’re always welcome to move into Boatem Territory if you want, Philza. I know this place isn’t exactly as safe as it used to be.”

Phil looks around the place he’s called home for years, and finds that, true to Grian’s word, while he is attached to the Arctic Commune, it hasn’t felt safe in a while, ever since Dream started showing up on his and Techno’s doorstep unannounced at any time of the day or night.

He can’t stay here, Phil suddenly realizes with heart-breaking clarity. He swallows thickly, looking around his soon-to-be left behind home as he nods slowly.

“Yeah… yeah. I think I’ll take you up on your offer, actually. Mind if Ranboo comes along?”

The parrot avian beams at him, looking entirely too pleased with his answer for all the good reasons.

“Not at all! Let’s get moving then, shall we?”

A/N : a rough timeline can be found here :D

@call-me-dj

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

promise me that you’ll start where i end

A/N: 3rd Life SMP but i make it more dramatic. also i made the mistake of listening to drivers license by olivia rodrigo while writing this and cried. i'd say enjoy but i don't think that's the correct emotion to experience while reading this. (title is from Boreas by The Oh Hellos)

Summary: An argument before Scott's world- one of color, light, and love- falls to pieces and turns dark. And the friend who tries to collect those pieces and bring back a little light to him.

Warnings: minor violence, talk of death, arguing, hugs, crying, canonical character death, grief/mourning, bittersweet ending

-

Scott leaned against the potions table with a sigh. There were too many close calls today. Each brush with Dogwarts nearly cost either him or Jimmy their lives, not to mention that Cleo lost one of her lives trying to escape the Red King and his men. Then there was the whole issue with Joel, his attempt on Scott’s life, and their wall- he wasn’t looking forward to rebuilding it, especially just out of cobblestone or some other stone. A small smile was brought to his face as he remembered how Jimmy instantly wanted to go after Joel, even though the other man was already long gone. It should have been concerning, how fast Jimmy could seemingly switch between being a lost puppy or a feral wolf on his red life. Instead, it was actually sort of endearing. It would be more endearing if it didn’t give Scott a near heart attack every time his husband tried to rush forward into danger. Scott squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of memories- Jimmy running through lava for a prize, his eagerness to pick up a piece of tnt and the resulting destruction it caused, Jimmy staring Ren down as he burned the Dogwarts flag (and then himself), Jimmy drawing his bow when Scott was trying to de-escalate a situation and just ask if Dogwarts had anything to do with their wall burning- Scott wasn’t sure if he was proud of or angry at Jimmy’s recklessness. There was one thing Scott knew for certain- he would never be able to erase the memories of Jimmy’s deaths from his mind, and everything he did was to make sure that Jimmy would survive. And himself too, of course, but Jimmy was the one with no lives left.

“Scott?” a voice asked, causing his eyes to snap open. He looked over to see Jimmy stepping through the nether portal. He looked a little shy, and Scott smiled in spite of himself at his husband being in his “lost puppy” mode.

“I’m just working on some potions. Y’know, for future encounters. What’s up?” Scott asked. Jimmy fidgeted for a moment or two, not quite meeting Scott’s gaze.

“Just wanted to check in on you, after uh… everything,” he asked sheepishly, finally looking up at Scott’s eyes.

“Could be better, could be worse. There were a couple of close calls, but that’s why I’m working on potions,” he replied with a shrug. Jimmy’s brow knit in concern, and he reached out to Scott for half a moment, but quickly dropped his hands with a frown.

“It was too close today,” Jimmy muttered under his breath. Scott huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“It was, you’re on your last life- you’ve gotta be more careful,” he reprimanded. Jimmy’s sheepish gaze snapped defiantly to Scott’s, and he jumped a bit in surprise at the fire in his husband’s eyes.

“I was talking about you! Martyn’s arrows nearly took you out!” Jimmy shouted, hands gesturing wildly.

“Jimmy, my armor’s better than yours, and I have all my lives left. I would have been fine- you wouldn’t have,” Scott said, a little taken aback at Jimmy’s sudden ferocity.

“Just because you have all your lives doesn’t mean you can throw them away, Scott!” Jimmy protested. Scott gave Jimmy an incredulous look.

“I’m not throwing my lives away, Jimmy. I have good gear, I negotiate and build alliances with other factions, I’m making potions- if anyone’s throwing away their lives around here, it’s you!” Scott shot back, voice coming out more frustrated than he meant it to. A hurt expression crossed Jimmy’s face, and part of Scott wanted to take back what he said, but most of him didn’t regret it at all. Didn’t Jimmy understand what was at stake here? Scott tried his best to look out for him, but each and every time he rushed forward into things he shouldn’t have.

“Scott, I know I’ve messed up. You don’t need to keep reminding me. But I can’t just stay put and do nothing like you!” Jimmy shouted.

“What do you mean, doing nothing?! I’m trying to build up our defences-”

“Going on the offensive is the only thing Dogwarts will understand-”

“I’m just trying to protect you!” both Scott and Jimmy exclaimed at the same time. Both of them blinked in surprise, and all at once things started clicking into place.

“Scott, I’m no strategist like you. I’m not even as good in combat. But I’m on red- I’m the fighter here. So let me fight for you,” Jimmy said softly. Scott made a sound that was half laugh, half scoff.

“Jimmy-”

“I can’t stand the thought of letting you die, Scott,” Jimmy said, refusing to meet his gaze. A bittersweet smile came to Scott’s face, and he took a step closer to Jimmy, tilting his head to try and meet Jimmy’s eyes.

“Jimmy, I’ve seen you die twice. Don’t you think that I can’t stand the thought of letting you die either?” Scott asked. Jimmy finally looked up at Scott, eyes watering. Scott let out a fond little scoff, reaching out to wipe at Jimmy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy said wetly. Scott didn’t answer at first, instead reaching out to pull Jimmy into a hug.

“Don’t be. And don’t cry you idiot, you’ll just disintegrate faster,” Scott teased fondly, relieved when Jimmy let out a laugh in response. Jimmy pulled away, wiping at his eyes and smiling. Scott couldn’t help but smile back, happy to see his husband in a marginally better mood.

“We’ll be okay, right Scott?” Jimmy asked, still soft and as timid as before. 

“I’m working on potions, we’ve got allies, and we’ve got each other. We’ll be alright,” Scott said, voice soft but no less determined. Jimmy gave his usual dazzling smile, filling Scott with warmth and light at the sight of it.

-

It was dark when Scott made his way down the hill from Jimmy’s grave. He wasn’t even there when Jimmy had died, he had told Jimmy that they would be alright and they both weren’t. Scott was on yellow now, the gleam in his eyes and the gold shimmering in his hair making that absolutely certain. Scott’s preparedness hadn’t even saved either of them! His potions certainly didn’t do much good as Scott died early on in the battle. Maybe he and Jimmy shouldn’t have allied with anyone. Maybe they should have stayed within their walls and retired, like Scott wanted to. Maybe Jimmy would be alive now. But there was no use dwelling on the “what-ifs”- all Scott had was the now. And the now was crushingly lonely and dim.

Scott jumped at the cackle of a witch, narrowly avoiding a thrown potion. He drew his sword and cut her down without a second thought. She poofed into ash, leaving Scott to stumble forward into the dirt. He drove his sword into the ground with a cry of rage and sorrow.

“I can’t even mourn?!” he cried, shouting at the universe for what he had lost and what he had endured. Scott wasn’t sure how long he had knelt there in the grass, a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword and a hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. It wasn’t until the growls and skittering of other mobs approaching that Scott finally picked himself up, yanking his sword from the ground and feet moving on autopilot. 

He soon stumbled through the nether portal to the cave behind it, shaking hands reaching for a book tucked away on one of the shelves. He opened it carefully despite his trembling hands, not wanting to damage what was inside. Between the pages laid a collection of pressed flowers, one of them being the poppy that Jimmy had given him when they first met. Scott finally allowed himself to crumble, falling to the floor and sobbing with the book of pressed flowers cradled in his arms.

“Scott?” a voice asked. His head snapped up and he looked to the cave entrance, heart skipping a beat at a flash of blond and red- but then saw the brightly colored wings and deflated at the realization that it was just Grian. Scott quickly wiped at his eyes, gently closing the book before holding it tight against his chest and standing up.

“Um. Hi,” Scott said, unsure of what to say. Grian didn’t look like he knew what to say either, feathers rustling slightly before he cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to uh. Check in on you,” Grian said. Scott let out a shaky sigh. How many times had Jimmy come in, asking the same thing? Checking in on Scott, making sure he wasn’t overworking himself- sometimes checking in on him wasn’t even for Scott’s own benefit. Jimmy would need reassurance, and Scott would joke and tease to cheer him up. What Scott wouldn’t give to hear Jimmy’s laugh one last time.

“I think you can see how well I’m doing,” Scott said, tone coming off a bit more brusquely than he meant it to. Scott winced as soon as the words escaped his mouth. Grian didn’t deserve to have his grief taken out on him, but frankly Scott wasn’t sure how else he was supposed to respond to that. His friend’s expression twisted in sympathy.

“Sorry. We did avenge him, at least,” Grian said softly. Scott let out a humorless laugh.

“Yeah. I just thought I’d feel some sort of satisfaction from it, or that it would make losing Jimmy hurt less,” Scott replied, voice as hollow as he felt. Silence hung between them for a few moments, before Grian stepped a bit closer. He cautiously reached out to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and Scott peered up slightly at the touch.

“It probably won’t help much, in fact not at all, but what if we put a stop to Dogwarts? For all the things we’ve lost- and for Jimmy,” Grian offered. A small, weak smile crept onto Scott’s face. He wouldn’t let Jimmy’s death be in vain- he believed in a world without Dogwarts, a world where he and Scott could live out their days in peace. And even if Jimmy wasn’t able to live it with him, Scott knew that Jimmy would want him to move forward, to the life they had wanted.

“For Jimmy,” Scott said, warmth in his tone for the first time since Jimmy had died. For a brief moment, he thought he felt a hand ghost across his, paired with a reassuring touch on his back and a breath at his ear. The moment was there and gone, and Scott desperately wanted to curl his fingers around familiar ones he swore he had just felt- but it left Scott’s smile a bit brighter all the same.

-

MCYT Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @space-ace123

[crash-hawk]

Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn, this hurricane’s chasing us all underground...

Since I recently re-released Three to read in its entirety on Tumblr, I thought I would do the same for the first chapter of the follow-up fic Hurricane: a series of short stories set in the Passerine-inspired Kaleidoscope AU, focusing on the intersections and parallels between the series’ Hermit cast and their DSMP neighbors.  Chapter 1 is a direct follow-up to Three, taking place literally hours later, so it’s recommended that you read that one first!

Hurricane is a work in progress, with three chapters completed so far.  The rest can be read on Archive of Our Own HERE.

(For a look at what’s going down in this AU’s version of Third Life, check out @lunarblazes‘ devastating Give Me Back My Heart, You Wingless Thing and @exactlymypoint‘s stellar To Stars and Void He Will Return.)

The morning after’s always a bitch.

crash, crash, burn

No matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave

No matter how many breaths that you took, you still couldn’t breathe

No matter how many nights that you’d lie wide awake to the sound of the poison rain

Where did you go?  Where did you go?  Where did you go...?

- Thirty Seconds to Mars, “Hurricane”

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

A strange hush falls over the island in the hours just before dawn.   The moon sinks into the water, unnaturally bright against stars that seem pale and faded and  unreal, and seems to take all sound and life with it; the ocean is a vast expanse of smooth glass that barely seems to lap at the shore.  

The Queen of the Hunt notices, and it disturbs her.

She does not live with the others in the main village.  She makes her home in a vast cavern on the far side of the island, beneath a quaint red-roofed house that’s more decoy than domicile.  The house is for the young ones and the new ones, who don’t need to know what she truly is (although every once and again one will come seeking her specifically, usually one who’s seen her in the Starborn’s tournaments, and if they show promise and she has nothing better to do she will take them on.)

She does not live with the others, but she’s aware of the visitors who’d come to their shore the day before.  She knows them well, one of them most of all.  Her own dark mirror; sometimes her twin and sometimes a stranger, sometimes an ally and more often an enemy.  His presence here, in this place meant specifically to keep him out, infuriates her, because she knows it for what it is: both an implicit threat and a deliberate insult on the part of the one who’d brought him along.  The thought of marching into the village and demanding that the interlopers state their intent was tempting, the thought of demanding that they leave even more so.  But she and her shadow have always been flint and steel, and with each hour that passes the island feels more and more like dry kindling.  The Huntress tells herself that no matter what happens, she will not be the one to strike the spark.

She wanders along the northern shoreline, not knowing why, not knowing where she’s going or what she’s looking for.  It feels like she’s waiting for something, some coin to drop, some axe to fall.  

And then it does.

The land around her has grown sere and scrubby, gnarled oaks making way for the flat-crowned acacia trees local to the northwestern point of the island.  A huge mountain, ridged and buttressed like a castle, bulks to the sky, black against the dim, faded stars.  She can see lights glowing softly from the windows of the homes her friends have built there.

A scream suddenly bursts from one of the windows.

It shatters the night into a thousand fragments, echoing from stone and tree and water, freezing the Huntress down to the bone because she  recognizes  it, would know the voice anywhere.  That’s Etho screaming, screaming and screaming in terror and agony and something else, something that sounds dangerously close to madness--the Huntress has heard enough screams in her life to know.  

She’s running before she’s even aware of it, her bow materializing in her hand from thin air, as dawn crawls over the eastern horizon behind her in a silent white line.

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

Something’s wrong.

It pulses through Pearl’s mind in an insistent feedback loop, crowding out thought as they make their way back down the shore toward the village.  George rambles on at her side, the most he’s spoken since she can remember, the most he’s spoken in  millennia,  she thinks, ever since the old forests were a new thing too huge with potential for her to govern alone.  There are other siblings, of course, other gods of life and change and growth, but he is one of the youngest, and the most sensitive.  So she smiles and tries her best to listen as he talks and talks and talks, about his woods and his dreams and his nightmares and waking up choking on ash, about his animal friends and the valley he made bloom in honor of one that he lost, about the unlikely friendships she still doesn’t understand, treasure hunts and near misses and the universe saying I’m going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.

“Granted, they’re both idiots, Sapnap especially,” he says, smiling.  “But…”

“But they’re your idiots,” Pearl finishes with an answering smile.  She can’t help it, she’s all too familiar with the phenomenon.  And yet the maddening refrain continues:  something’s wrong.  Something’s wrong.  Something’s wrong.

To the east, dawn paints the sky in fragile seashell colors, washing out stars already strangely faint.  They’re close, now; Pearl can see the massive, irregular shadow of Scar’s ore pile and the dim violet glow from Grian’s observatory. There are few lights lit, and even though she knows that logically everyone’s probably still asleep, it still sits wrongly. Even at this distance, the village feels shuttered, empty, dead.

“It’s so quiet,” George murmurs.  Pearl turns to him, seeing anxiety in his eyes, in the way his arms wrap around himself.   He feels it too.

“Some of them should be up by now,” Pearl says absently.  “Bdubs at least, he’s staying at Impulse’s house this week and he’s always up and out with the sun, I don’t--”

“I think they’re all still there,” George interrupts, pointing down the beach, to where the the last embers of the campfire still glow dully in the early morning gloom.  “It looks like they all fell asleep there.”

Pearl looks, and fear washes over her like ice water.  

They’re arranged around the campfire in a ring, the way they gather almost every night if the weather permits.  Twenty-some people, it looks like, almost the entire village.  Some are still mostly upright, slumped against each other or against the logs of driftwood.  Others lie sprawled awkwardly in the sand or curled up tight against the wind.   Only one remains alert, prodding idly at the embers as they roast something on a stick.

Footsteps crunch in the sand behind them, making her jump, but she doesn’t turn around.  They don’t look like they’re sleeping.  Their poses are too awkward, too uncomfortable, as if they’d all been struck by the same bolt of lightning and simply lay as they fell.  They look--

“There you are,” complains the approaching voice, all smoke and grit.  “I’ve been looking for you all godsdamned night.”

“Sapnap--”

Pearl breaks into a run.

George shouts something after her, but she doesn’t hear it.  She runs for the campfire, her cloak and hood flying out behind her, heart pounding in her head and chest and throat.  

The one still awake looks up as she skids to a halt in the sand, smiling.  “Morning,” he greets. “Breakfast?  There’s fish enough for four.”

Pearl ignores him.  Up close, she can see that the younger ones do seem to be asleep, piled up on each other in awkward configurations and snoring quietly, but the others...the others…

“What have you done,” she gasps, before she’s even aware of what she means to say.

“What do you mean, what have I done,” Dream asks, blinking.  His voice and expression are the picture of bafflement, but his eyes are amused, glittering jade in the light of the rising sun.  “I was making breakfast.  They’re asleep.”

Impulse still sits next to Dream, slumped over the half-finished clock in his lap, head bowed. Beside him, Bdubs is face down in the sand.  She can’t tell if they’re breathing or not.  Across the campfire Scar lies curled on his side, arms crossed loosely in front of his face as if to ward off a blow.  And beside him--

“Grian!”

For a terrible, terrible moment, Pearl is certain that he’s dead.  He lies sprawled on his back, limbs bent awkwardly, boneless and loose as if he’d fallen out of the sky.  His wings are invisible, still cloaked, and that’s  wrong, Grian can’t hide his wings unless he’s conscious enough to think about it--

She drops to her knees beside him, laying one hand on his chest, the other cupping his cheek.  She feels him draw in a breath and sobs, vision blurring with relief.  So slow, though, a full minute going by before he draws another, and he’s so cold. Grian isn’t supposed to be cold.  Grian is quicksilver and solar flares and lightning in a bottle, rambling speech and manic laughter and too-warm hugs.  His fire is gone, his wings are gone.  Grian is gone.  What lies on the beach beneath her hands is nothing more than a placeholder.  A shell.  And she knows as certain as moonrise that if she were to go to the others, to lay her hands on their hearts, she would feel the same.

“What have you done?!” she repeats, pale eyes returning to Dream’s.  

Dream simply looks back at her, impassive, the unnerving smile still on his face. “Nothing they didn’t ask for.”

“They would never ask for this,” she hisses, standing slowly.  She can feel rage beginning to gather in her core, flowing down into her limbs like white fire.  

“Dream?” she hears George ask from behind her, quick footsteps shuffling through the sand.  “What happened?”

For a heartbeat, she sees the Green God’s expression flicker, a split second of something that might have been surprise or nerves or fear.   She doesn’t know, and doesn’t care.  Her rage is an incandescent, living thing, as though she’d swallowed a piece of the sun.

“I told her,” he says.  “They’re  asleep. Dreaming. They asked for a story, and I told one.  I might’ve...gotten a bit carried away, but they haven’t been harmed, George.  At all.  They’ll wake soon enough--”

“They are not asleep!” Pearl cries, and suddenly there’s a spear in her hand, the curved head glittering silver in the misty sunlight.  “Do you take me for an idiot? You’ve left their bodies here scattered like so many empty seashells, thinking I couldn’t tell the difference.  They’re not here!  What have you done to them, you lying bastard?”

In the space between heartbeats a white-cloaked shadow suddenly appears at her side, obsidian blade leveled inches from her neck.  “Put it down,” the War God snarls.  “Now.”

“No,” she says, not even bothering to look at him.  

“You’d break guest right?” Dream asks, still smiling congenially, stepping forward so Pearl’s spearhead rests just below his collarbone. “Your little commune holds that sacred, doesn’t it?  You’d run me through in the sight of the sun, in front of your ‘brother’?  Well, go on, then.  I’m right here.  I won’t even dodge.  Your place, your rule.”

“Pearl, Sapnap, stop,” she hears George cry, dismayed.  “Dream, what the hell’s gotten into you??”

Pearl’s hands tighten around the polished ashwood haft of the spear.  The rage in her is burning agony.  And yet she can’t move.

The Green God smiles, his eyes the color of acid and chlorine and radiation.  “I know you,” he whispers. “I’ve known you since you were formed.  You’re not cut out for this role. You don’t have it in you.”

There’s a sudden ‘twang’ and a puff of sand as an arrow strikes deeply into the beach a bare millimeter from Dream’s ankle. Another grazes Sapnap’s cheekbone a second later, drawing a thin line of blood.

“You’re no guests of mine,” a woman’s voice calls from a point above and behind them. “And I do.”

The War God’s sword jerks away from her neck, and Pearl’s paralysis breaks. She whirls, her spear falling from shaking, nerveless fingers, to see False, Lady of War, Queen of the Hunt, standing atop a wave-beaten spar of rock, longbow nocked and drawn.  Nor is she alone: beside her stand Iskall of the Mountains, his stone sword carved with runes and shimmering with enchantment, and Wels, Guardian of the Gates of Hell, in full dark armor and wielding a battleaxe the color of smoke.

“You,” Sapnap spits, black eyes narrowed and full of venom.

“Me,” False agrees.  

“What the hell,” Iskall thunders, fire glinting in his eye, “did you do to Etho.”

Dream rolls his eyes.  “Stars, Void, and In-Between, how many of you are there?”

“More than you’d believe,” Wels answers.  “This is our place.  Our home.  And I think it’s high time you returned to yours.”

“You’ve outstayed your welcome,” the Huntress states flatly, her normally blue eyes as black as Sapnap’s as they drill into Dream.  “I suggest that you and both of your friends get in your boat and leave.  Right now.”

“Mm,” Dream looks up at the sky for a moment, as if thinking.  “And if I don’t care to leave just yet?  I never got to read the ending to that story I was telling last night, and your student body was so excited to hear it.”  He glances over at the sleeping apprentices, and Pearl feels a stomach-clenching rush of fear and revulsion at the implicit threat.   “Besides.  You know you can’t kill me.  You know it better than probably anyone else here.”

False laughs.

Dream’s forehead furrows, and Pearl is gratified to see that awful smile slip just a notch.  “Care to share the punchline?”

“Oh, that’s true enough,” False admits.  “You’re right, it won’t be my arrow that brings you down, though I must admit I’d greatly enjoy the trying.  It’s just funny to me, how confident you are, considering where you stand.”  She smiles, a tight, icy little smile that makes Pearl shiver in spite of herself, as she glances back at the village.

No, Pearl realizes, not at the village: at the rickety, towering sculpture in the center of it...and the yawning sinkhole beneath.

Dream’s smile falls off of his face so quickly Pearl can almost hear it thump into the sand.  George stands beside him, looking confused and utterly miserable, hands twisting together.  Pearl hates Dream almost as much for putting that expression back on his face as she does for the motionless bodies at her feet.

“What in the hell are you talking about,” Sapnap snarls, scowling in confusion.  

“Shall I call him,  Dream?” False continues softly, still smiling.  “How about it? We’ve all got time, after all, while we wait for our friends to wake.  I’m sure he’d be very interested in your stories.  He’s a much more courteous guest than you are.”

“He won’t come,” Dream protests, but he doesn’t sound so confident anymore. “He’s busy, and lazy, and thousands of leagues away besides.   He’s got a new playmate, and they’re enjoying themselves too much with their little empire down in the Southern snows to bother with you.” The smile returns to Dream’s face as if it never left, but there’s no mistaking the undercurrent of fear in his voice, the obvious way he’s trying to convince himself of what he’s saying.  “And why should he answer to you at all, hiding away with your own little playmates on your nowhere island?  You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” the Huntress asks, dark eyes glittering.

A tense silence settles over the beach.  No one moves.  Even the waves seem to hold their breath, waiting to see which way the scales will dip.

“Why?” Pearl finally asks, her voice breaking.  “What did we ever do to you?”

“Like I told you, they’ll be awake soon,” Dream says with a shrug.  “Ask them.”

“Leave,” False reiterates, her smile gone, her voice cold.  “All three of you.  And don’t come back.”

“Very well, as my Queen commands,” Dream answers, sketching a mocking bow.   “George, Sapnap, let’s go.”  He turns to Pearl with a smile, green fire dancing in his eyes.  "Until next time, my dear." And with that, he walks away, moving off towards the docks.

Pearl recoils, skin crawling with loathing and a creeping, nameless dread. “George, wait,” she entreats, sorrow and desperation thick in her voice.  “You don’t have to go with them.”

George looks back and forth, from her, to False and Wels and Iskall with their weapons drawn, to his two friends, and then back to Pearl.  “They’re my friends,” he murmurs helplessly.  

He turns, walking off down the beach after Dream.  A sob escapes Pearl’s throat.  

Of the three of them, Sapnap lingers the longest, staring up at the three on the rocks with his sword still drawn.  

“He’ll betray you, you know,” False says quietly.

“Stop talking about things you haven’t the least idea about,” Sapnap grits.

“He will, though.  He’ll betray you the way the scorpion betrays the frog in the old tales, because it’s his nature.  And because you have something he doesn’t, a capacity he doesn’t understand and never will, no matter how badly he wants it.  I know, because you and I are the same.  You’ve already begun to discover that capacity, as bumbling and resistant and stupid as you are.  When you finally figure out the rest, he won’t be able to stand it.  He’ll turn on you, and he’ll hurt you.”

“Whatever you say,” he mutters dismissively, but he sounds unsure of himself.  At last, he sheaths his sword, stalking off after the others.  Pearl wonders if either of them will remember this incident two days from now, if they'll be allowed to remember it.

When they’re finally gone, their boat nothing more than a hazy speck on the water, Pearl collapses to the sand.  She pulls Grian into her lap and holds him, not letting go even as Impulse comes to with a strangled scream, clutching at his abdomen and hurling the half-finished clock into the waves with a cry; as Bdubs scrambles wild-eyed to the water after it, his legs shaking like those of a newborn colt; as Scar begins to cough and gasp and struggle to fill lungs that don’t seem to remember how to breathe; as the apprentices stir, looking around with dazed and uncomprehending eyes.

It’s only when Grian finally wakes, silent and gasping and threatening to shake himself to pieces in her arms, his pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks, that Pearl finally, finally allows herself to cry.

[votederpycausemufins]

-Smiles widely at the camera that exists somewhere- Ah Grumbot, I’m so glad I remembered to add you in here.

@petrichormeraki

With the arrival of Mumbo and the bots, Grian and Tommy tried to introduce everyone to each other, but another message came in from Scar about doing paperwork with a mention that Iskall was there for the paperwork with Fundy. Immediately Mumbo flew off back towards the shopping district, Tommy barely getting the chance to cover Tubbo’s ears. Tubbee, who had also been brought down from the apiary floor, used Jrumbot as something to hide behind.

“Sorry about that. Iskall is just not the best at reading contracts and Scar likes to hide things in there for fun. If Mumbo hadn’t beat me to it, I would have gone instead since it’s quieter.”

“He forgot Tubbee doesn’t like fireworks.” Jrumbot spoke, petting the mob. 

“Exactly. Your dad can be very forgetful in the moment.”

Grumbot looked towards Tubbo and then took a few steps towards him. “You act like Tubbee. You must be President Tubbo. It is nice to meet the whole of you.”

Tubbo, who was trembling a little bit even though the sound had been muffled, looked down at Grumbot. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I didn’t tell him that part yet.” Tommy quickly explained to his nephew.

“I see. It is something from what your admin did. In creating your ‘canon lives’ he made it so when you lost one, a part of your being would be broken off and cast somewhere else. I am not sure what happened to your other part as I do not have that information, but one did end up within this bee as it first spawned.”

Tubbo looked at the bee in Jrumbots arms and then smiled. “Perfect. Always wanted to be a bee.”

Jrumbot looked between Tubbo, Tommy, Tubbee and Grumbot. “Is Tubbee my uncle then?”

Grian picked Jrumbot up. Grumbot had gotten more of the smarts since he was built to be a computer to answer their questions. Took a little more after Mumbo that way. Jrumbot on the other hand had originally just been made to help sell stuff and was created on the younger side, so he wasn’t as smart. In fact, he was more like Grian if his affinity for shears, especially near his one dad’s mustache was anything to go by.

“Well, Tubbo is your uncle’s friend, maybe even an honorary uncle at that. And Tubbee isn’t quite the same. Besides, I don’t think Tubbee will mind if you don’t call him your uncle.”

Grumbot walked over to Philza. “You are Philza Minecraft. Former king of the Antarctic Empire and my dad’s father, making you my grandfather.” He then looked at Techno. “You are Technoblade, former prince of the Antarctic Empire and also seem to loathe all forms of government. We will not get along.”

Techno looked down at Grumbot with a neutral expression. “Smart kid.”

“Grumbot, how did you know that about your uncle?”

“The mayoral reservoirs of course. He would have been a danger to the mayoral campaign if he appeared.”

Grian stared his son down. “Are you telling me the entire time you knew about Techno.”

“Not his location, but I was aware of his character and other general knowledge.” Grian looked like he was about to blow a gasket. “Of course, you never asked, so I didn’t assume you wanted to know.”

“Grumbot, when we get home, only your brother is getting a diamond.”

Grumbot stared at his dad before saying a single word. “Fuck.”

Tommy smiled. He had taught his nephew well.

With a break in the conversation, Tubbo spoke up. “Well, I mean Philza has sort of been acting as my dad.”

That immediately grabbed Grian’s attention. “Why?”

“Well, I’m not sure exactly what happened. One moment I was in the car with my dad, next thing I know, I’m in a box on the side of the road.”

“Your dad abandoned you?”

“What? No! He would never!”

“Hey G, might be like what happened to you?” Tommy suggested. There was a pause where everything was quiet before suddenly Grian changed to have six purple eyes. “Grian! No!”

Grian closed them and crossed his arms as best as he could while still holding Jrumbot. “What’s the point of being a Watcher if I can’t actually be one.”

“You almost killed everyone a few hours ago.”

“Dad almost killed someone?” Jrumbot asked, looking worried. Grian shifted him to one arm so he could pat his son and comfort him.

“Yeah, things got crazy for a bit. That’s why we wanted you staying in the hobbit tunnels. Did you at least have fun there?”

The question cheered Jrumbot up. “Yeah! We made more tracks for jousting!” Jrumbot continued to talk about what he and Grumbot had been doing when a message came in on the comms “Dad, Daddy wants your help with Scar.”

Grian sighed. “Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to get that paperwork done. Hey Tommy, where’s your nether portal?”

Tommy led everyone down to the second floor and through a nether portal. Though Tubbo had already been there with Fundy, the rest hadn’t and were surprised by the builds that were in the nether.

“How did you do all of this?!” Wilbur asked, surprised. “We barely had stuff like this in the overworld!”

“It’s actually not that big compared to last season. We use the roof more and everyone has their own separate builds.” Grian’s family tried to resist the urge to shake him and or kill him at how normal he was making it sound. “I’ll have to show you the upside down later.”

Though it took a few small bridges here and there, it was rather quick getting them all back to the shopping district. As the portal was right under the town hall, the group was greeted by music as they came through back into the overworld.

“Is he wasting it on paperwork again?!” Grian asked incredulously to no one in particular. “This isn’t going to help us at all!”

“It actually makes sense this time as there is the potential consideration of people from here and the smp moving between each other.” Grumbot explained, making sure to glare down his anarchist uncle the entire time. “All the proper forms would need to be done to keep Hermitcraft safe from people willing to destroy it.”

“I’m going in there.” Tommy spoke up, quickly leaving the others behind. Just a moment later, he walked back out with papers in his hand. “I think these mean he doesn’t want to see us right now.”

“What exactly is going on?” Philza asked.

At the same time, Grian and Tommy gave an answer. “Superfast build mode.”

“What?”

“Scar uses vex magic to help speed himself up to do lots of work in a small amount of time. Usually he uses it for building, but recently he’s also been using it for all his mayor work.”

“I… see.”

“Anyway, Grumbot, can you look at the paperwork?” Grian took the papers from Tommy’s hands and gave them to his son. The robot rapidly read through all the papers at a speed that could potentially rival Scar’s own current speed.

“It’s really bad this time. Paying him diamonds, work clauses, extreme zoning laws for temporary housing. You can only grow wheat and chorus fruit, I’m assuming that’s actually a mistake.”

Tommy smiled. “You wanna go in there and fix it.”

Even if they wouldn’t all admit it, the smp members all had a shiver go down their spines as Grumbot spoke coldly and his screen face turned red. “Very much so.” And then he walked up the stairs to the town hall.

“Is he going to kill your mayor?” Wilbur asked, but Grian shook his head.

“No, he only was that serious the first time they met after we finally built his body. It’s only ever near deaths at most. I’m actually wondering if we have more elections if everyone will let Grumbot run.”

“I certainly won’t be giving him permission.” Came Mumbo’s voice as he exited town hall with Iskall and Fundy behind him. “Artificial life or not, he is still considered a child. And Tommy has given him too many ideas. Scar might be exiled for a few days.”

Techno looked like he was about to speak, but was shushed by Philza. 

“Techno, I know you don’t seem to like the government and all, but it works here. I’ve seen hundreds of worlds, so I know how it can all fall apart, but we have literally been doing this for years with not a single problem.”

“Grian.”

“With only one single problem.”

“Grian!”

“Okay, I cause the problems. Mostly. But Tommy helps me with that! But we only very minorly grief and even then it’s extremely rare. And we definitely don’t steal. It’s mainly harmless pranks like chickens everywhere or hiding something in your base that makes noises and you can’t find it.”

“Or secret base bros.” Tommy added in, making Grian look a little confused.

“Yeah, though we stopped doing that ages ago.”

“Or did we?” Tommy asked, somehow looking very racoonish.

Grian looked at his brother. “Okay, concerning, but we can talk about that later.” He turned back to the rest of his family. “In the meantime, I think we should have the discussion I think we’ve all been avoiding a little. Is it just going to be visits, or are you guys actually deciding to move here?”

“What do you mean? You’re not coming with us?” Philza asked, making Grian frown.

“No, of course not. No offense to your home, but it’s a bit of a mess and I’m not sure I could live there without losing my mind. I’m sure that eventually things will calm down, but I’m sure I couldn’t even make half a hobbit hole before it got messed with in some way. Visits are of course on the table, but I’m not going to be staying.”

“But you’ll just be by yourself again.”

“Um…” Tommy started to say, drawing attention over to him. “I’m actually going to mostly stay here. I know Dream is gone and Tubbo’s in charge now, but I just don’t think I can go back there just like that.”

Tubbo hugged Tommy and then Grian pulled the two of them into a hug with his wings. When Philza tried to take a step forward, Grian glared at him. “No. You were part of the problem. You don’t really deserve this right now.”

Mumbo went over to try and comfort Grian, but just ended up making him more agitated. Iskall pulled his fellow redstoner back then tried to change the topic. “So, Fundy, you said you’re Wilbur’s kid. That makes you Grian’s nephew, doesn’t it? That means you have cousins.”

“I do?” The fox hybrid asked before he was tackled by Jrumbot.

“Hi! I’m Jrumbot! Grian and Mumbo are my dads! My brother went in there to talk to Scar, so you may have seen him.”

“Yeah! I did! Wow! This is the best day of my life! I mean, other than the whole going to war part, but everything else was great! New family, hopefully a better server, and I got to hang out with Iskall!”

“That sounds amazing! I got to meet Tubbo! He’s just as fun as Tubbee!” Jurmbot said, happy to share about his day to a new face.

“They seem to get along just fine.” Iskall chuckled. The comment seemed to help Grian relax a bit and he reluctantly released Tommy and Tubbo from his wings.

“Look dad, I’m happy I found you after all these years. But you being my dad doesn’t change the things I saw you do. You sided with people, not ideas, and because of that you would change what you stood for on a moment's notice just to side with someone you cared about. But that hurt others you cared about at the same time. I’ve been hurt enough in my life. Tommy has too. Things here are safe and stable and even then we don’t always have the best days. I don’t normally curse, but it should get the point across. I am terrified of getting close to you right now and you finding a way to fuck up out lives.”

Mumbo and Iskall shared a look. While it might not get through to the newcomers, they had known Grian long enough to know just how serious he was being. They had both seen just how bad it could get for Grian and Tommy and how helpless they felt sometimes when trying to help the brothers.

Philza was quiet for a while before giving a simple understanding nod. “Thanks dad.”

“Well Grian, I’m sure that it’s been a long day for everyone. I’m sure people are tired and hungry and there’s plenty of paperwork to do. How about once Grumbot is finished, we head over to my Hobbit hole for some food.”

Grian smiled at Mumbo. “That sounds nice. Dinner with the whole family!”

Everyone was pleasantly surprised when they saw Mumbo’s hobbit hole. It was a much more reasonable size. They hadn’t seen Mumbo’s real base quite yet though, so they assumed this was it. It was still quite large from the bumbo baggins society expansion, but that meant plenty of room for everyone to sit at for a meal. 

While there was plenty of variety, golden carrots were the most plentiful and they were gladly eaten for their high saturation. The visitors from the SMP tried not to stare as the bot children were given bowls of nether quartz and red stone to eat. It was hard to even comprehend how they were eating at all as their heads were just computer monitors yet somehow it just worked.

A cake was placed on the table as a joke for all the birthdays everyone had missed but they ended up actually singing. Following that, the dreaded paperwork began, though it was easier to handle now that everyone had a slice of the delicious treat.

While Philza, Wilbur, Techno and Fundy signed paperwork for simply visiting Hermitcraft, Tubbo signed one for visits and for residency. “Tubbo, are you planning to stay?” Tommy asked when he noticed the papers in front of his friend. 

“Well… I would like to. This place seems so nice… but with me being admin now, I need to help the smp. But maybe I can have extended stays in the future.”

Grian looked at Tubbo sympathetically. “Tubbo, you don’t have to be the admin. I’m sure you can find someone you trust enough to move the powers to if you want to stay here.”

“But you made me admin.”

“You were nearby and I knew you probably wouldn’t do anything horrible as admin, but you don’t have to keep them. You are still a kid. You don’t need to keep that responsibility if you want something else.” When Tubbo didn’t look convinced, Grian sighed. “If you want, we can make someone else admin, and if it doesn’t work, you just call me over and I’ll take them away again.”

“Grian, there’s a good chance you could kill someone doing that.”

“And I wouldn’t regret it!”

“Yes you would.”

“Okay maybe.”

Mumbo just gave a very tired sounding sigh.

As dinner was wrapping up, Grian pulled Grumbot over to a side room. “Alright, you were able to help Tommy out with Tubbo and apparently you knew more about Techno than you were going to tell me.”

“That is true.” Grumbot answered. “But you two build me the way you did.”

“I know, and I really regret it.” Grian pulled out a diamond. “Grumbot, do you know anything about Tubbo’s dad?”

Grumbot took the diamond and then processed the question. He was silent for a few long moments, making Grian start to believe that there was nothing Grumbot could find on the man. But just as he was losing hope, Grumbot spoke again.

“He’s called The Captain.”

[neurodivergentnecessity]

The big brother AU was made by @petrichormeraki and I'll be tagging @siren07tucker because I feel they contributed a lot to the AU.

I drew what I thought Grumbot, Juni, and Tizzy would look like over the years and because my brain never rests, I’m also going to be telling you guys about each stage in their lives. Also I did to the rest of the kids but I’m still working on their drawings so yea. Almost forgot quick warning before we get started there will be angst, implied suicidal thoughts, and if it makes you uncomfortable there is a reference to periods, any way let's get going with the youngest and my personal favorite of the trio Tizzy.

Tizzy was born after team ZIT went into and died in the void and nothing much really happened while she was a baby except for a few incidents regarding the new parents, but we’re not going to talk about that. After a few years team ZIT was getting used to being parents and decided on a system of who Tizzy would spend time with for the day. They decided on two days with each of them then at the end of the week they’ll all sleep over at one of their houses for the last day. While at Impulse’s house Tizzy somehow managed to get all of her clothes dirty and so she was given one of papa I’s shirts, shortly afterward she wandered off and nearly fell into the ocean, being saved by some nearby turtles. Impulse’s house became very baby proofed after that little incident. As a child Tizzy became very athletic and was taught by her dads how to play many sports including football... soccer... she doesn’t really know, but what she does know is kicking this ball is fun! During this time as well she became very feisty and started getting a few scars because she never backed down from a fight unless her parents physically pulled her away. She also started willingly hanging out with the Jumbo kids and found out that they were really fun, especially Juni. The two stopped being friends for a week after the teeth incident. Now if you asked Tizzy if being raised by team ZIT was fun she would tell you that it was, but one time they somehow managed to lose their only brain cell and had the biggest parental fails ever. They forgot to give Tizzy the talk... and they didn’t realize this until one day she told them that she was bleeding in a very weird spot. She also started to notice that being born from the void means she has a few powers. So during her teen years she was very confused more than the average teenager during this time. As a young adult Tizzy became very skilled at PvP and started participating in MCC, and her dads always try to be there to root for her, embarrassing her only slightly. She eventually started being known as one of the best and going toe to toe with her idol Technoblade. She also happens to be one of the few hermits that can read Galactic, because she was born from the void.

Juni is next, and once again not much happened to him as a baby except for him flinging himself off of high things nearly giving his family heart attacks, one of these leaps of faith ended with a chipped tooth. Now as a toddler he showed a very keen interest in Redstone going as far as to sneak into his dad’s base and steal from his chest. He also “helped'' his dad and sometimes brother with projects leading to his wings slowly being dyed pink. He also started complaining about his wings getting itchy and so his dad told him about molting and helped him with his little issue. As a child he somehow managed to enter the awkward stage in life early and became fairly shy and easily embarrassed. He also started feeling alone because he noticed that his brother was’t playing with him as much, but he wasn’t alone for long. He had made a new friend, Tizzy! He really liked her and to quote him “She’s super cool and awesome and fun and loud and tough and... what are other words for cool?” The two stopped being friends for a week after the teeth incident. It seemed as though Tizzy was rubbing off on him because during his teens he became a huge daredevil. He would constantly put himself in dangerous situations like trying to fight a Ravnger, untested TNT traps, jumping off high places in hopes his wings would activate early. Of course his tricks didn’t always end well one time he managed to sprain his wing which nearly gave his dad a heart attack. As a young adult Juni became an explorer traveling the world he grew up in and discovering new things about it, he’s also been entering new worlds and exploring them as well. In his free time he’ll experiment and test new Redstone contraptions as well as pushing the limits of his wings and learning more things about them. Tizzy is allowed to visit him in his laboratory as long as she doesn’t go near his Redstone. He’ll sometimes join Tizzy at MCC but he isn’t nearly as good.

Last but not least we have Grumbot, after Grumbot broke down Grian and Mumbo decided to take the pressure off his shoulders and let him become a normal kid. Together they worked on Grumbot’s infant body once they finished they installed fake memories making him think that Mumbo won and wiped his memory or so they thought. Grumbot was fairly normal as a toddler but he did have a strong interest in redstone and was easily excited. When he was a child he met his new brother who he wasn’t too excited with. Grumbot was used to all of the attention, but when Juni showed up Gumbot noticed that he was suddenly getting less attention and he became very jealous of Juni. His jealousy boiled over at one point when he and Juni were sitting together. Mumbo wasn’t home and Grian had left the room they where in. So Grumbot lightly shoved his toddler brother over, slowly Juni fell over and once hitting the ground immediately started crying, Grumbot then panicked trying to calm Juni down so he wouldn’t get in trouble eventually he gave up and fled the sene of the crime. In his early teens Grumbot started glitching worried he asked Mumbo for help, he agreed and turned him off temporarily to see what was wrong. After supposedly finding the problem Mumbo quickly fixed it, but unfortunately for him and Grumbot he had just unlocked all of Grumbot’s old memories. Upon waking up Grumbot was immediately hit with all of his locked away memories causing him to become extremely overwhelmed with all this new information. He became severely anxious and closed himself from everyone including his brother. During this time Grumbot struggled to come to terms that his dads only made him for one purpose, he also started wondering if the only reason his dads are his dads out of pity. What if they didn’t really love him? Is he worthless? Does anyone really need him? Should he even exist? These thoughts ran through his mind everyday and didn’t realize his deteriorating mental health until Juni forced himself into Grumbot’s room and asked him if he was ok. Upon hearing that Grumbot broke down and decided to work on fixing himself. As a young adult Grumbot is doing a lot better he’s become more confident and is the head scientist at a famous researching facility, he’s also been looking for other sentient robots. He is still very close with his brother and will sometimes go on his adventures with him.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 42- Crossfire

Masterpost

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

When the Forest has control of lightning magic, someone is bound to be struck.

Warning: mentions of abuse, invasive thoughts

_________________________

The deeper they got into the forest, the worse the illusions got. No one was safe, no matter how many talismans, potions, and mental exercises they run through. Sometimes the hermits have no choice but to stop and console a team member who’s being affected by the Forest. Warm hugs bring Cleo back from the long locked away memory of her death, how she became who she is now. It wasn’t until three potions and the welcoming press of his zweihander resting in his hand that Wels is able to ignore the illusions. And Grian nearly flies away as the Forest reminds him of how many times he’s been thrown out of every orphanage and guild he entered. If it weren’t for the hermits, he’d be alone, lost. And at the will of the Hangman’s Playground. 

Scar feels the sting of torn skin, right along where he got his namesake, before the rest of the illusion appears. Such a peaceful, normal forest. He tries to focus on the trees, the creek he passes by, with gentle animals of all kinds drinking from the fresh spring water. Of the perfect placement of rocks, ferns, even the way the dirt curls over roots. 

“No merchant’s son will be seen playing in dirt!” The hot sting of blood, of torn skin marred by rich jewels and gilded rings. His father’s voice growls through the extravagant manor. 

“And he tracked mud onto the entrance carpet! There’s no possible way we can get that stain out!”

“I wasn’t playing in dirt.” Scar whispers, daring to defy his parents. To speak out without being told to speak. His voice is young, pitching up and down across his words, tinged with anger and contempt. “I was practicing my magic. I was creating something ahmazin’.”

“I forbid you from ever using your magic! It’s a disgrace that my son’s magic is so...is so messy!” Scar’s feet were no longer on the ground, though he can faintly feel the soft compress of dirt in the forest, the illusion tells him otherwise. His father’s opulent outfit, matched with the bloody rings he wears on each and every finger, his hand balled in a fist in Scar’s collar. “You will let your worthless magic die, and do exactly as you are told.”

But Scar’s own thoughts rebuke the forest, without need of a single potion or talisman. Because he remembers what happened next. He spent his youth practicing in secret, and as soon as he knew he could make it on his own, he set off. From that moment forward, he defied his father by nurturing his magic, rather than letting it die. From that moment forward, he never did what he was told. 

And that led him to the hermits, his best friends, his family. He remembers the fateful day he met BDubs, pure happenstance and Scar’s own proclivity for disaster. He was in a tree, trying to better understand how trees form and grow to mimic in his magic- he wanted to make it as perfect as nature itself- when he fell backwards and ended up crushing the hermit just walking through the woods. 

If it wasn’t for his act of defiance that night, he wouldn’t have found his true family. If it wasn’t for that night, he wouldn’t have become the S-Class mage he is now. He wouldn’t have won in the Chimaera’s Championship. The night the Forest of Memories chose was one of the worst nights of his life, but it was also the beginning of the best thing ever to happen to him. The beginning of his new life, with his true family. 

The illusion shatters, like glass, fractals dissolving and lost in the wind. Scar smiles, looking around at his friends. Those who welcomed his magic, let him nurture it. “Have I told you how much I love you guys?” 

“Look, I think we’re getting close to whatever is hidden in here.” Doc points out, his hand on his friend’s shoulder. In the distance, red light bounces and is absorbed by the warm brown bark of the trees. Another leyline, just as large and pulsing with stolen lifeforce. They’re so close, they’ve come so far. Certainly there’s no way they can lose themselves now, they’ve been fighting it off successfully for who knows how long. 

But not everyone is successful in fighting off memories. At the back of the group, Mumbo wipes away the tears in his eyes. He doesn’t warn the others about the memories playing around him. He doesn’t want to disappoint the hermits. 

Not like he disappointed his dad. The Forest of Memories, the Hangman’s Playground, has dug up his worst fears, and replays every time he’s failed his father. Every time he returned from one failed guild exam after another. The sidelong glances and long tirades of how much of a disappointment Mumbo was.  Every single one, from his first exam when he turned thirteen, to the last exam before he was disowned.

It was that one that hurt the most. And it was that one that the Forest replays not just in Mumbo’s mind, but all around him. The trees turn to pillars, and Mumbo is standing on the expansive steps of his family’s manor. His father’s stern face looks down at him, clean shaven and hair slicked back harshly. The tight pull of the starched white collar of Mumbo’s shirt is even harsher, but nothing compares to the dense silence between father and son. 

He was a disgrace to the family. Dozens of guilds, laughing at the family line for creating such a worthless progeny. Dozens of guilds, turning him away after he failed their gauntlets, exams, and prerequisites. No matter what Mumbo tried, no matter what he did, he could never be good enough for his father. Not the way he was. 

“Miriam.” Mumbo tips his head up to meet his father’s stern, cold eyes. “Come back a guildmember, or don’t bother coming back at all.” 

He failed his family. He’s failed so many. He’s failed his family, he’s failed to help Gildara, or Danes. Fight after fight, battle after battle, he’s always the weakest link. He’s always been failing the hermits. And he’s failing them now. 

He’s the weakest link, and the Forest knows it. It knows he will fail, just like always. Mumbo wipes away tears, and discovers he’s in total darkness. The memory is gone, but the illusion kept it’s grasp on Mumbo. 

“Why would we want to be your friends?” A sneering voice echoes through the darkness, an accent all too familiar, the words all the more painful to be held by Iskall’s voice. 

“You can’t even use your own magic. All that power, wasted on a weakling.” A shadow passes in the emptiness, and Mumbo barely catches a glimpse of the brown, furry dog tail. 

A high pitched laughter, followed by the scrape of metal against stone. “You can’t fight, you can’t defend, you can’t even heal. At this point, you’re just dragging us down. We should have cut you down long ago.” 

The swing of a saber appears in the night, and Mumbo staggers backward as Cleo’s saber nearly cuts his chest open. In the foggy darkness, he can just make out her eyes. Or where there should be Cleo’s sea blue eyes. Instead, all he saw was oozing, black goo, pouring like viscous tears down her seafoam green skin. She’s gone, disappearing back into the darkness, a shark cutting through the waves. 

Mumbo attempts escape, but no matter where he crawls, the ebony darkness has him trapped. Laughter, voices rise from the void, whispers and shouts. Voices he knows, like those of his friends. Scar, Jevin, Hypno, even TFC. Berating him for being a useless member of the guild, that he’s just the jester, the pet. Of his father, yelling about the shame, that he wishes Mumbo was better, stronger, worthwhile. And voices he doesn’t know apart from the words they spit out. Bullies in school, taunting him in magic class for not even being able to call on his magic. Bullies in guilds, casting him out and laughing with every mistake he made. The guild leaders, sneering and jeering before, during, and after his failed tests. 

There was no escape from these dark thoughts, not when the Hangman’s Playground plays them out before his very eyes. Memories of reality, and memories of the fears and ‘what ifs’ he’s played a thousand times over in his head. He hears the voices he knows, just knows the other hermits say behind his back. He feels the stinging betrayal as they kick him out, the very words dozens of other guilds have told him before. He watches Grian leave him for better, stronger friends. 

Mumbo reaches out for Grian, his best friend, shaking fingers just barely able to grip onto the tarlike wings of the agnel. Like a bird trapped in oil, each feather dripping with the black goo. “G-Grian, please, I promise I’ll work har-”

Grian turns around, hand slapping away Mumbo’s own, and the empty black goo of Grian’s eyes stare into Mumbo. Pinning him down, too afraid to fight back. To weak to fight back. “Forget it, Mumbo. You’re useless, you can’t even draw your own magic circle. I don’t know why I bothered to ever save you, that day so long ago.” 

Beside Grian, Iskall’s laughter pierces through Mumbo’s heart. It feels so cold, so abrasive, even though nothing has changed about that tittering laugh of his friend. Mumbo shrinks awake, wiping the tears that cascade like a waterfall down his face. “I-I can be better, I can do better! Please don’t leave me!” 

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” The hiss from Iskall, slicing across his beard, catching the sludge and twisting in his facial hair. “Prove that you’re this mega awesome multi-mage of doom, and not some puny mega weakling that we know you are.” 

Mumbo’s panicking. He has to do it. Just this once, he has to unleash his power. So he can keep his friends. Closing his eyes, he digs deep. He tries to ignore the jeers and laughter around him, focusing in on his magic. His hands shake, but he tears down the walls he’s set up to protect himself, protect everyone from the surges he’s prone to. Mumbo can’t hold back on his powers, not unless he wants to hold onto his friends. He feels the power rushing through his body, but he doesn’t stop. He will prove it- he’s not worthless. 

Grian turns around, noticing that there’s one less person in the group. They’re so close, he can feel a change in the atmosphere around him. It reminds him of when they were in Gildara, but stronger. Like the entire world is pressing on his shoulders. “Mumby?”

Mumbo’s on the ground,  kneeling with fingers clutched in the forest floor. His shoulders rise and fall, and Grian realizes that the Forest of Memories was playing with Mumbo. Grian walks away from the group, keeping his spirits high and fighting off the tendrils of dark thoughts that tickle his mind. He reaches Mumbo’s side, kneeling on the red illuminated leyline. 

“Oh gods…” Grian whispers, seeing Mumbo’s eyes as he tips the mage’s face up. Veiled by mist, Mumbo’s sight has swirls of grey blinding him to reality. He’s trapped, deep inside the illusion that the Hangman’s Playground. And he’s losing control of his magic, sparks snapping free from fisted fingers, redstone saturating the ground around him. Grian reaches his hand out. 

Hands rest on Mumbo’s shoulder, holding him down. The voices are louder, angrier, filled with spite and hatred. Drowning out any sense of Mumbo’s rationale, he lets go of his magic. He unleashes it all onto the world. 

Mumbo grabs his father’s hand resting on his shoulder, and lets loose as much of his lightning that he can muster. 

The darkness shatters, and Mumbo sees that it wasn’t his father, or any guildmaster, bully, or even Dolios himself holding Mumbo down. But it’s too late to stop the bolts of energy as it crawls through his hands and runs up Grian’s ruddy skin. One more time, the Hangman’s Playground toys with him once more, letting him see the truth. Letting him watch as the uncontrolled magic surges through Grian, sending the young angel crashing to the ground. 

“Grian!” Xisuma cries out, abandoning the track of red, skidding to the ground at Grian’s side. Mumbo scrambles to his feet, stepping forward. But then he sees the ricocheting of lightning, jolts of lightning still searching for escape from Grian’s body, and the writhing pain that his friend is in. Charred black wings, just like the ones he saw in his illusion. Mumbo’s not in control of himself- was he ever?- and the power of uncontrolled magic fills his body, blinds his thoughts. From one extreme to another. 

He hurt Grian. He could hurt any one of the others. He’s horrified by his actions, the thoughts that led him here. He’s all or nothing- too weak or too strong, and either way it destroys those he loves most. 

The ground moves beneath his feet, the shouts and calls little more than white noise as the Forest of Memories replays that second over and over again in Mumbo’s mind. Hurting his best friend, hurting a fellow hermit. The hermits could be calling for him, calling for Grian, calling for the goddess of the dead for all he cared about. 

Mumbo just runs. Far away from the hermits, deep into the branching teeth, into the belly of the Forest of Memories.

[votederpycausemufins]

Welp, let’s see how much people hate me at the end of this. I doubt anyone will see the ending coming until it’s too late. but also, yay chapter 20! maybe i might actually take a break @petrichormeraki

When Ghostbur returned once more and mentioned he found parrots in the place, Mumbo started getting things ready. Parrots meant Grian, so they needed to move now, before they lost him again. He packed up shulker boxes and everyone got geared up. 

As they got closer to the building, at Tommy’s insistence, Mumbo created a flying machine for the blond to ride in as an ‘intimidation tactic’. He wasn’t sure why the boy held his arms out as it started to fly off, but Mumbo did feel a little intimidated.

Since the machine was slower, the rest of them waited a little bit to advance, making sure to take a more stealthy route since attention should be drawn to Tommy. They always made sure Tommy was about a chunk ahead of them. Not too far they couldn’t easily get there if he was attacked, but far back enough the magic from their potions could be seen.

Dream lifted his head up in confusion at what sounded like the noise of pistons. They were distant, but sounded like they were getting closer. It reminded him of when Ranboo had come to visit him in the vault.

He looked out the door, but couldn’t see anything, until he looked up. In the air was some monstrosity made of pistons, observers and slime blocks. And on top, sitting in a boat, was Tommy, who was currently t-posing. “What the-?”

“Hey there green bitch!” Tommy shouted down as a way to inform his currently invisible friends. “You visited me so time to return the favor.” Both of them just stared at each other after that, the flying machine being a little slow. “Uh, that didn’t go quite as well as I imagined.”

Dream rolled his eyes. At the very least this was something new and it looked like there were still some things he needed to teach Tommy. If he could just finally get the blond to follow orders, everything would work out great and- a sword appeared out of nowhere and slashed at Dream. He was confused for a moment before he saw the particles that signaled an invisibility potion.

Tommy jumped down from the machine, unsure how to stop it as it continued to fly off. He joined whichever of his friends was attacking Dream, turning it into a two on one, possibly more but even Tommy wasn’t sure how many invisible people were fighting the admin.

Mumbo slipped into the house with two others while Dream was busy fighting. He didn’t quite know how easily he could be heard from outside, so he started whisper yelling. “Grian! Grian?! Are you here?!”

Someone tried to shush him. Mumbo was pretty sure it sounded like Philza. “Sorry that I’m worried about him! But calling for him might actually help!” Mumbo gave another stage whisper.

“Hey, are we whispering so the parrots don’t hear us?” Ghostbur asked, coming through a wall and surprising Mumbo.

“Where are they Ghostbur?” Philza asked and the ghost pointed.

Mumbo walked in that direction and was met with a spruce door. He opened it up and there he was. “Grian!” The redstoner ran over and opened the cage, carefully pulling him out. “Grian are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Behind him, Philza and Ghostbur came in. Grian chirped happily and Mumbo fished out some pumpkin seeds which were quickly gobbled up. “Are you sure that’s him?” Philza spoke up, and Mumbo looked over at the other avian.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Philza gestured to the room around them and this time Mumbo noticed all the other parrots that looked nearly identical to the one he was holding. As he stared, the parrot pecked his hand and Mumbo loosened his grip. “Sorry about that.”

Philza walked closer to Mumbo and inspected the parrot. “What told you it was him? Is there some pattern you’ve gotten used to or…?”

Mumbo shook his head. “No. He didn’t even know he could completely change into a bird until around a week ago when you told him.”

“Then how did you know it was Grian?” Ghostbur asked, looking at all the other parrots, finding a liking to one with a larger amount of blue feathers which he tried to give what looked like blue dye.

“I… I just knew.” Mumbo answered. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was Grian, but to him, it was obvious. “Now, can you help him change back to normal? I’m not sure he knows how.”

“It should be easy.” Philza answered. “Changing back is much easier since it’s your natural form. But essentially it draws on the same properties as shifting your wings away.”

Grian just tilted his head, then ruffled his feathers and pecked at Philza when he tried to get closer. “Grian, please. He’s just trying to help.” Mumbo tried to calm the parrot, which seemed to work and the bird moved to perch itself on Mumbo’s shoulder. “Alright, let’s get out while we still can.”

With their invisibility potions worn out, Mumbo and Philza put on armor and started to leave the building. They were surprised to find that Dream was nowhere in sight. But that would hopefully make things easier. “Alright, let’s hurry back before anything tries to stop us!” Mumbo started running off, hoping everyone else would follow, which they did.

After they reached a midway point to rest as well as create a small shelter as it started to snow, Grian started chirping. Mumbo assumed that was him asking for words to mimic, but then Quackity grabbed Grian and pulled out a sword.

“What are you doing?! Are you mental?!” Mumbo quickly pulled Grian back, not caring about being pecked.

“What? It’s Dream’s pet. It would help send a message.”

“He’s not Dream’s pet! Did you not hear a word of the plan from earlier?!”

“Quackity, even if they belong to Dream, you shouldn’t kill it.”

Mumbo held Grian just a little closer. He caught Tommy’s confused look before the blond spoke. “Tubbo, him I can understand not listening, but you? He’s not a pet, he’s my brother.”

“Your brother’s a parrot?”

Mumbo grabbed Tommy and pulled him back. “Raise your hand if you think this parrot is Dream’s pet.” Mumbo wasn’t surprised when everyone but him, Tommy and Ghostbur raised their hands or had some other signal of affirmation. “Tommy, I think I know why their eyes are like that now.”

“Well fuck.”

“Please, calm down. He’s uh… not Dream’s pet. He’s mine and just… stole him? I mean, I couldn’t put him on my shoulder if he wasn’t my pet, right?” Mumbo hoped the reasoning would get through to them, and he was glad when it did.

It happened again a few more times, but Mumbo was glad to note that Grian seemed to be able to sense it and gave some chirps as a warning.

Dream became more frustrated as time went on. At this point Tubbo should have come back to return the parrot. Everything else had been going right so far other than the Watcher magic on Tommy making him a little too open to suggestion. Perhaps that was the problem. Tommy was holding everyone up. 

Well, suggestions were much easier to do from afar, so possibly calling in Sapnap for that favor would do. But he was a bit trigger happy when it came to killing pets. And likely no one else would be nearby.

Dream sighed and grabbed his gear. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.

The moment the snow stopped, Mumbo had them on the move again. But it had still taken a while and Dream easily caught up. With so many people, it was hard to see just who held the Watcher. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you Tommy.”

“Doesn’t belong to you either green bitch!” Tommy shouted. He looked like he wanted to attack Dream, but Mumbo held him back. He also had to keep a hand on Grian as he started chirping and almost flew off.

“That so? Seems like it has a better idea. How about you shut up for once?”

Mumbo watched in horror as the magenta color filled Tommy’s eyes again and he found he couldn’t speak. “Tommy! No, snap out of it!”

He didn’t see as Dream tilted his head at the unfamiliar voice. The redstoner was just glad that Tommy was able to shake his head and go back to normal. “What the fuck was that?!”

Dream asked his own question. “Who’s your new friend Tommy?”

Tommy just cursed at Dream, not giving an answer. So Dream asked one of the others, who gave up Mumbo’s name. “Hmm, Mumbo Jumbo.” Dream said, toying with the name as he said it. “Well then, seeing as how that changes things, better let things calm down for the family reunion going on.”

“Wouldn’t have needed it if you didn’t end up kidnapping my brother!” Tommy yelled back angrily.

“Right, that family reunion counts too.” Dream’s comment confused Mumbo and Tommy. The latter of the two pulled out an axe as Dream walked forward. “Hey, calm down. I’m not going to try anything if he won’t. Besides, I’ve been waiting for someone to show up.” Dream took another step closer and then held out his hand. “So Mumbo, the name’s Dreamon.”

Mumbo stared at the outstretched hand then up at the mask. Grian chirped on his shoulder and that reminded him of what this person had done, so he refused the hand. “Fine, I guess Drista really is the only one that’s willing to hang around me if time has told me anything.”

Mumbo’s eyes suddenly widened. “Are you telling me you know Drista?”

Even with the mask in the way, Mumbo could see how much Dream smiled. “Of course, why wouldn’t I know our sister.”

[writing-the-end]

WS Chapter 37: Seasons Change

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

So anxiety’s been a real pain lately, but i”m not going to let it stop be from writing. I did get an ao3, though I’m just putting up LoL on there right now. 

either way, another hermit meets the wanderers! Reminder that all of this was written at the beginning of s7, so this is before Keralis became stupid rich. 

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block  (red teach me your waysplz)

“You keep disrespecting the magic, Grian, some day it’ll come back to haunt you.” Scar hums, still put off by Grian trying to get rid of the crystal he’s been giving him. These are priceless, and yet Grian finds so much joy in tossing them around like trash. 

“Sure it will, Scar.” Grian chuckles, kicking the sand of the desert beach Iskall has laid claim to. Grian holds the rowboat over his head, rolling his eyes  but smiling. 

“You of all people should know not to challenge magic- you’re a magical creature yourself!” Scar turns around, putting his hands on his hips and jutting out his chin. 

“Just get in the boat, Scar. You’ll ‘ave lots of time to berate Grian in there.” Stress points out, tossing her vessel into the water with relaxed ease. Avon sets down the fresh jungle boat carved for her and Ecto. Mumbo plops down his boat, looking at Red. 

“Getting in?” He questions. They have just the right people to fill every boat. 

“Red doesn’t need the boat.” Ecto chuckles. 

“What do you-” Red’s holler cuts Mumbo off as he goes running into the Hermiatic sea, leaping into the warm waters. “Right, fish person.” 

Red swims through the water, her streamline from cutting through the sea. Water rolls off her scales and skin, tossles her hair, and clings to her clothes. Welcoming the kipling back home. It’s a welcome return to her natural habitat, with dolphins squeaking and whistling to greet her and a curtain of tropical fish becoming a mosaic around her. But it feels like a hollow return. This isn’t her ocean. When she gets home, will it still look like this? Is it already destroyed by that Blu? 

Red rubs her eyes, exhausted from everything that’s been happening. They were attacked, and Red was helpless as her friends were gravely injured. They managed to escape to this world, only to lose each other. The fear of losing Ecto and Avon, even for just a short amount of time is terrifying. What would he do without them now? Without Ecto’s keen observation skills, or Avon’s unrelenting determination. 

He grabs hold of his backpack, surfacing quietly and watching the hermits and his friends. He sees Ecto, wounded across the back. He watches Avon’s hand grip her side, covered in bandages. Losing his friends would be just as bad as the knowledge that he may lose his family. His friends are his family. Red’s fingers run along the emerald eyes of the statue Scar gave him. The smooth gold and polished emerald have become a way for Red to calm down by rubbing it. Fred may be creepy, but he’s helped him through a lot. 

Red swims up beside Scar and Grian’s boat, poking her head out and kicking her legs to keep up with them. “So where are we going? Do we need food? I’m really good at fishing, I really am.” 

“Keralis lives on another shore of the Hermiatic sea, and he definitely should know where Xisuma is.” Grian answers.

“I would love some fish. I didn’t bring any more potatoes.” Scar chimes in, hearing his stomach growling at the mention of food. 

“How many people live on this hermiatic sea?” Red questions. She feels like she’s met so many already, are there more out there?” 

Grian taps his finger, letting go of his oar. “I think we’re twenty two strong this time around?” 

Red’s eyes widen at the thought. So many people, all gathered together. Red isn’t sure she’s ever seen that many people apart from villages. But these guys definitely aren’t village folk. She dives back underwater, zipping ahead and snatching fish with her teeth and claws. She drops her catch off with Scar, leaving the freshly caught cod on his purple robe. She’s like a cat, leaving fishy surprises in all of the boats. Ecto and Avon know to protect themselves from a fish, but Mumbo can only whimper and groan as a scaley salmon is tossed into his lap. 

The group of travelers follow the shoreline, watching the beach change to jungle, and jungle to savanna. Acacia trees sparsely cover the rolling, dry grass. But for the wanderers, it leaves a bad taste in their mouths. It reminds them of Blu, the whole reason why they’re here, why they aren’t continuing their journey to Red’s home. Avon tries to feel better by reminding herself that they can at least gather information while they're here. Learn more about who that person was. 

“So...who is this person we’re going to see? To show us the way to the world wizard?” Ecto isn’t sure she likes how many people are joining in on this journey. Her fellow wanderers were already a handful to remember and keep track of. Adding in Grian and Scar, previous people she had come to know and trust, was about the most she could handle. But now she has to worry about this Iskall guy, Stress, and the creature they call Mumbo. 

“His name is Keralis. He’s a master builder. Honestly sometimes he puts me to shame when it comes to house designs.” Grian states, pulling up to row beside Ecto and Avon. 

“We may have locked him up like we did you guys as well.” Scar winces, offering an apologetic smile as everyone glares at him. Still some negative sentiments there. “I mean, when you see the man, you’ll understand why we thought it. He’s like...twenty percent eyeball and thirty percent mouth.” 

“There’s his base. Or… at least his starter home.” Iskall points to the hillside near the water. Blue containers stack atop one another, and construction machines sit idle in the turned up dirt. A few villagers are hard at work in the construction zone, though they all stop and stare at the incoming strangers. When Avon draws close, the villagers back away. Even in another world, they still fear her. Even in another world, she’s still a monster. She can never escape it.

“Hello my beautiful friends! Oh, and some new faces!” Keralis leans out a window, waving his hands vigorously. He leans farther so that they can see him more, and loses balance out the window. 

The band of hermits and wanderers all wince, the heavy thud of Keralis hitting the ground below the open window. Stress rushes over to help, but Keralis is back on his feet before she can grab his arms. He wipes dirt from his wide eyes and gives the crew a wide smile. “Aww man, I had a record going...three days without an accident.” 

“Damn, that’s a pretty good record around here.” Iskall hums. 

“Who are these guys? Beyond new friends?” Keralis creeps closer to the wanderers, his curiosity met with the same from Red. The two look at one another, sizing the opposite up before breaking out into giggles. Apparently both deemed the other a worthy friend. 

“I’m Red, the tall one is Ecto and the scary one is Avon. Trust me they’re a lot nicer than they look. They’re awesome friends.” Red squeezes her friend’s hand.

“Ah, well welcome, welcome. I hope my friends have been treating you well while you’ve been in our world.” Keralis shakes hands with Red and waves to those that don’t seem interested in interacting physically. 

“Oh, ah yeah about that…” Scar grimaces, hoping to pave over such a sensitive topic. 

Unfortunately Grian beats him to it. “Scar thought they were aliens too. Locked the wanderers up in Area 77 too.” 

Keralis’s eyes and smile freeze, becoming cold as he turns his head from the wanderers to Scar. Keralis’s voice hisses through his teeth, dripping with anger. He still holds a bit of a grudge. “Did he now?”

“Whoa, hey we all cleared it up, right? We’re all friends now.” Scar backs off of Keralis, knowing the man can be particularly vicious if he wants to be. Behind those bug eyes and agape mouth is a killer. He’s a master at Head Hunt. 

“Scar let me pet his cats!” Red coos, and luckily for Scar her cheery attitude towards him seems to be enough to quell Keralis’s blade. 

“Alright, alright. New world, new leaf.” Keralis pulls off his helmet, tousling his hair free from the yellow safety hat. “What can I do to help you guys? Wanna buy a book?” 

“Actually, we were lookin’ fer some info. Do you know where Xisuma is based?” Stress rubs her neck. She actually could use another mending book, but she isn’t carrying the diamonds on this journey. 

“You want to see Bee-shwamy? What fore?” Keralis tips his head, sitting on a barrel next to his heavy work machinery. He was just with him the other day. 

“He may have information that our friends here need.” Grian fills.

“He’s the smartest guy in the world when it comes to general facts of life. Man’s a wizard for a reason.” Iskall adds. “Sorry Scar...a real wizard.” 

Ecto steps forward, bumping a mumbling Scar out of the way. “We were attacked in our own world by these creatures from the nether. They destroyed my home.” 

“You mean pigmen?” Keralis frowns, looking over the hillside to see if Porky’s there. He didn’t think pigmen were that organized. 

“He wasn’t a pigman.” The winged one, Avon, hisses. “He could talk, and he definitely wasn’t zombified or anything.”

Keralis rubs his chin. He has no clue about anything of that sort. The only person he could think that may know more is either Xisuma...or perhaps Tango.  “That’s definitely some strange news. We should get to see Bee-shwamey to get this sorted out. Follow me!” 

Keralis hops off his boxes, waving for the team to trail after him. Across the grasslands, another jungle rises. Trees with high canopies and vibrant leaves brush in the dry savanna wind at the interface between plains and forest. Avon is quick to grab onto both Ecto and Red. She’s not losing them again. If she had a lead, she’d put them on it. 

The other hermits stick close as well. All of them have gotten lost in their own jungle, it would be so much worse in a jungle they have no knowledge of. Keralis, however, has no trouble hopping over short oak trees and swinging through the vines. His cheeky grin never falters, constantly wide eyed and taking everything in. Observing every inch of the world around him. 

The jungle doesn’t stop, even when construction starts. Vines and trees creep around the white concrete, and pathways arch over the leaves below. The forest is as much a part of the construction as the scaffolding. Just as much a part of the build as the chests and lighting. Somehow, the sleek, futuristic style perfectly blends with the chaotic, ancient patterns of nature. Whoever has built this is in tune with nature. 

“Oh hello there friends.” Xisuma waves, tangled up in vines that he has gotten caught in while flying. His pockets are filled with jungle saplings, clumps of dirt falling from the roots and across his mask. He spits out a pebble. “What can I do ya for?”