#what if they found hermitcraft after a while

[siensapsap]

What if the life series exists because Grian made a deal with the Watchers to keep them away from the other SMPs people are a part of?

[were-changing-cake-vaults]

See, the thing is, Grian isn’t lying when he says that the snails aren’t his doing.

He gets why people are saying that; the timeline of him finally getting the stupid book and the snails emerging from the sea line up near-perfectly, as if they were another manic machination of his boredom. It’s also the fact that they just straight up came out of the sea, or at least should’ve- he swears up and down that the pink one shot down from the sky, he saw it with his own two eyes. But, considering he doesn’t control the sky, the pink snail cannot be his doing at the very least. And the teal one? The one that people are calling his snail? He just found it after a particularly stormy night, chilling on the docks, and he found it just so damn cute that he took it as a pet. Both of those aren’t Grian’s fault. They can’t be, by that logic.

But honestly, by now, he’s getting a little worried about the snails, in either case of his innocence with them. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s not the sanest person on the Hermitcraft server—he’s not sure who is, really, when everyone has their own things going on—particularly within the past few weeks, if the beard and book count as indication. His memory has been a little foggy for a while, so it very well could’ve been him putting snails everywhere, and he just flat-out forgot for one reason or another. Though, that doesn’t seem likely- he’s strong, but not strong enough to haul a giant snail out of the sea and onto a literal freight train, nor does he have the patience to meticulously choose snails that are sturdy enough to replace the wheels. That had to be a meticulous and pre-planned process, something Grian doesn’t really have the time for.

This leaves him with three conclusions: if it is him behind the snail acts, he’s not the only thing occupying his body. If it isn’t, well, there’s still something causing the snails to make their way through the works of Magic Mountain, and it certainly isn’t another hermit, based on their reactions. If it’s a mix of both—considering he’s found himself freeing snails from the cages Scar put them in without remembering how he got there—then the snails aren’t so cute anymore, and Grian’s just about ready to—

To—

He’s just—

Where was he?

Right. The snails. They’re not his doing, pinky promise. Grian got his book, he filled the prophecy, and he’s stopped fishing like it’s his last day on earth. The bit is over. He’s moved on- why would he beat a dead horse into the ground like that? Sure, he can still smell rot wafting from the river, but he’s Gem’s neighbor, and she’s got that whole fish horror thing going on, so it very well could be her. Nevermind the fact that they were eating her lighthouse, and she wouldn't do that to her own hard work. And sure, she came to him when a snail chose her--the way he said it would--but she was probably under the assumption that it was his, just like everyone else. It wasn’t. He’s sure it wasn’t.

The snails would explain his white-hot anger at Scar’s little cooking prank; the way Grian’s skin felt like it was burning every time he looked at the pan. How, despite knowing that his friend was just messing with him, every instinct was telling him to kill him where he stood, no mercy. How it felt like the same seething rage he felt when Scar had fished up a copy of the book weeks prior, and he’d done that very thing. And maybe, just maybe, it would explain how sometimes, on the nights where his dreams are the most vivid and gross, he wakes up in the Chamber, positioned as if in a prayer.

But if it is…

A streak of fear runs up his spine. The weather, despite his dedication to the sea released, is still stormy and grey. The water is still murky and washing slime up onto his shores. The dreams of the book haven’t stopped, despite him clutching it like a rosary on even good days. The whispers of the wind are an angry, menacing thing in his ear. He thought it would be over once he got what he wanted. He thought it would be enough to satisfy whatever the ocean needed from him.

There is a rod in his hands, he realizes. He throws it as far away as he can. It lands next to a clump of snails, who all turn to look at him with an otherworldly menace in their pitch black eyes.

Just what has he released onto his home?

[nightisawkward]

"Another challenger… it has been ages. Perhaps you have forgotten how this game is played. Allow me to remind you."

Happy halloween fellas!!! Hermitcraft/Life SMP inscryption AU ft. Boatem gang I cooked up awhile ago but never got around to posting B-) Wild life smp has reminded me how mentally ill I am about putting these Guys in Situations so here I am

Mild to major inscryption spoilers under the cut!

For those familiar with the game, the general roles are:

Luke Carter - "Challenger"/Grian

In this AU Grian is still a trading card-based youtuber who's recording all this nonsense going down real time as in canon, but has closer ties to the GameFuna company equivalent, named "WatcherCorp". His old college roommate/best mate Jimmy went to work for them, but mysteriously passed away in a fire at their headquarters. He found the Inscryption cards in Jimmy's leftover personal belongings a few years after his death, and decided that the best way to honor him would be to make a video featuring the project he put his heart and soul into... in more ways than one.

Key difference from canon Inscryption: Grian's mind is sucked into the game of Inscryption whenever he is playing. He is able to enter and leave the game at will, but he doesn't realize this until he first dies to Leshy/Pearl and ejects himself unconsciously out of fear of dying. The only reason he realizes he isn't hallucinating is because his camcorder footage proves he actually enters the game. He obtains the "Watcher's Eye" during Act 1, which he keeps for all future acts and allows him to see things he shouldn't see as a Challenger.

P03 - "Scarred Stoat"/Scar

Despite being the one who convinces Grian and the other Scrybes to stand up against Pearl, no one seems eager to spend any more time with the conniving conman than absolutely necessary. This may have something to do with Scar's history of backstabbing and cheating both Scybes and Challengers whenever it benefits him most. Which makes it rather unfortunate that Grian is must spend time with Scar in order to gather as much information as possible.

In the beginning, Scar and Grian do not get along in the slightest. Grian finds Scar's attitude too "fake", while Scar finds Grian's "cowardice" to be irritating. At some point, the two go from passive-aggressive fighting, to a grudging truce, to more friendly, lighthearted banter. Neither person seems to trust the other, but it doesn't seem to stop the two from being ✨saddled with unnecessary feelings✨. Scar's Act 3 world is much like Leshy's Act 1 world, with much more emphasis put on environmental storytelling and general Vibes than actual gameplay. Even if his game is a smokescreen for his true goal of Ascension, he feels strangely obligated to give Grian his best shot.

Scar in his proper Scrybe form appears more steampunk than canon P03. Think of a Grumbot with Scar's boatem base aesthetic and tons of missing nuts and bolts. P03's bastardous tendencies+ Scar's steampunk base made this role perfect for him.

Magnificus - "Horned Wolf"/Impulse

Impulse is a talented artist and an even more talented programmer. His future sight stems from his literal sight: His eyes are able to see read the code veil behind Inscryption, allowing him to predict likely futures based on what code is running. He often laments his status as an NPC, claiming that if he were given administrative privileges and the actual ability to modify source code he would have been able to escape Inscryption long ago.

He is rather absent in Act 2, focusing on finishing his "artwork" as soon as possible. He uses his brush to create a menagerie magical creatures with strange abilities in hopes that using one in battle might trigger a unfixable bug, allowing him to rip a hole through the source code. It is unclear whether he was able to accomplish his goal before Act 3 roles around, but it seems like Scar's method of Ascension seems awfully similar to Impulse's... perhaps a sneaky spy was able to steal Impulse's information?

As a proper Scrybe, he resembles a walking mop or a yak with overgrown fur. Most of his features are indistinguishable, save for his small horns and his glowing goat eyes.

Lemora - "Distinguished Stinkbug"/Mumbo

Mumbo is by far the most easygoing Scrybe in the cast. While he would greatly prefer an eternal slumber over yet another temporary ceasefire amongst the Scrybes, he is willing to work with the others in Act 1 simply because he finds his stinkbug form too uncomfortable to sleep in. Mumbo's goal is simple: to delete the game of Inscryption, and therefore himself, and finally rest. However, finds the constant power struggles in the world of Inscryption rather tiring and simply can't be bothered to make a grab for power himself to achieve this goal. This hasn't stopped him from asking Grian to destroy floppy disk of Inscryption. Unfortunately for him, the temptation of the o̷l̵d̷ ̶d̸a̶t̷ [REDACTED] mysteries within Inscryption are simply too powerful for Grian to resist.

As a proper Scrybe, he looks almost exactly like Mumbo's minecraft skin: A pale, mustached man with blood red eyes who resembles a vampire. Mumbo denies all vampire allegations. While he is the most "normal" looking Scrybe, Grian would still hesitate to call him "human" ...there's just something slightly off about his appearance that sets him on edge.

Leshy - "Game Master"/Pearl

Pearl is an unforgiving gamemaster that puts more emphasis on providing the player a challenge than her canon counterpart. After her self-proclaimed "tutorial", there is no more handholding and she gives Grian an absolute hellish time. Grian is only able to get a slight edge when he discovers all of the Scrybes, who provide him with stategy help to even the playing field. It is unclear whether Pearl actually enjoys running her Act 1 game or not: she seems to derive an animalistic pleasure from defeating Grian, but there are times where she seems tired and fed up with the endless gameplay loop and intentionally throws during key fights. She switches between manic and depressed at the drop of a hat.

During Act 2, she barely even tries to give Grian a challenge, allowing him to progress straight to her boss fight without any side quests to "get it over with quicker". She seems to hold a deep grudge against Scar for some reason, which is the only thing that motivates her to take action to stop him during Act 3.

Mysteriously, Grian finds a burned and unusable Unicorn card within her Act 1 cabin. Upon discovery, Scar immediately suggests that Grian leave it where he found it. Some things are best left forgotten, after all...

[tunastime]

ok ok?

Once again, Etho and Bdubs find themselves in the same predicament: navigating the complex relationships of their lives while trying to keep each other safe. However, unlike the times before, they have a little bit of a better understanding of each other. And a little more commitment to what they've made together. Or: like every time before, Etho and Bdubs have a conversation. This time, it feels good. (1584 words) (x)

The light sky is waning fast, the fringes of the horizon still orange with fading sunlight. In it, the small, deepslate keep is almost purple, the warmth of the day still held close in the humid river air and sun-warm ground. Inside, Tango is fast asleep. The sniffling breaths he takes are muffled slightly by the noise of nighttime: crickets and salmon and birds. Bdubs is among these noises as he lowers himself to the ground at the base of the keep, dropping his pack and resting against the cooling stone. He tips his head back, letting out a long, tired sigh through his teeth. 

Above him, as he widens his eyes and raises his eyebrows, he can see the beginning pinpricks of stars. He hums to himself, reaching up, eclipsing for just a moment the spread of the planets and suns he’s learned so well from stargazing. The motion feels familiar, in its own, strange way. He stares up through his fingers before he drops his hand into his lap. Bdubs shuts his eyes, letting out another slow sigh.

From beside him, Etho clears his throat. Bdubs startles, immediately cracking an eye at him, shifting around to pretend like he hadn’t just jumped. Etho snorts.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, that familiar smile to his voice and a crinkle to his eyes. Bdubs blinks his eyes open, furrowing his eyebrows as he gives Etho a quick once over. He crinkles his nose.

“You gonna nag me again?” he asks. Etho huffs out a laugh.

“Me?” he grins. “Always.”

Bdubs sighs again, slumping back against the cold deepslate tile. He rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, wise guy,” he grumbles. Then he pats the grass beside him. His hand comes back slightly dirty. Etho laughs under his breath as Bdubs waves his hand, trying to shake off the dirt before he ungracefully smears his palm onto his pant leg. After a moment, Etho sinks down beside him, letting out his own, tired sigh in relief.

“How ya feelin’?” Bdubs asks, shifting his body ever so to face Etho better. He glances over at him. Etho glances back. He raises his eyebrows and, in the fading light, looks less tired than normal. Bdubs for a brief moment wonders if it’s his doing.

“Mm?” Etho hums. “Pretty good, all things considered.”

Bdubs nods.

“Good,” he says. “I’m excited we’re together again, y’know.”

Etho snorts. He raises his eyebrows in question.

“And Tango?”

Bdubs makes a face. Duh. “A’course.”

Etho laughs again softly.

“Me too,” he says, all pleased like Bdubs had said something he found funny. Bdubs likes that tone of voice a lot. It means only good things out of Etho. Which usually meant good things for Bdubs, too. 

They lapse into a silence then, both comfortable and apprehensive. Etho fiddles with his hands, the skin of his fingers, picking at the nail beds in a show of his bad habit. Bdubs wants to grab his hands and force him to stop, as much as he kind of wants to tell him to just ask whatever question he’s holding himself back from, but Etho rolls his shoulders and settles back against the tile and seems to relax, so for a quiet moment, Bdubs watches his eyes flutter shut, and sees the pale eyelashes against his face in the rising moonlight. His chest seizes for a moment. Then Etho hums out:

“‘M sorry I forgot that one time,” he says, almost muffled through the mask he’s still wearing. “Bout the dragon.”

Bdubs blinks. He almost asks, albeit stupidly, what dragon. There’s a moment where his mouth opens and closes as he tries to remember what in the world Etho could be talking about. Dragon. Dragon. When had he fought the Ender Dragon recently? Not Hermitcraft, not this season at least. Later than that? Why would he be bringing it up now if it were something from this world? Unless he means. 

Ah.

Of course, this train of thought for Bdubs lasts only a second. And it’s in that second that he finally stammers out:

“Oh, what?” and clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Nah, Etho. Don’t—that was so long ago. Don’t you worry about that.”

“You’re not mad?” Etho asks, tilting his head over. His eyes open to peer at Bdubs. It feels like his pupil is consuming his iris, the way the dark brown and black of his good eye muddle together in the dark. It’s black like the night sky. His eyebrows furrow as he looks over Bdubs’ face. Bdubs snorts.

“Oh I was furious,” he finally says, tearing his eyes away from Etho’s face. Warmth crawls up the back of his neck. He stares at Etho’s unfolded hands, which have come to rest palm up on his knees. “But now? You think ol’ Bdubs carries grudges?”

He looks up at Etho again. Etho shrugs, looking away.

“Uh… yeah?”

Bdubs blanches.

“What! No—not with—” he stammers out. Etho pales even further, visibly swallowing. “Etho!”

‘What!” he squeaks out, spreading his hands, shoulders coming up to his ears. Bdubs swats at him, grumbling as he whacks fabric. 

“Not for you,” he huffs. Etho deflates a fraction—at least, his shoulders come down from the sides of his head. He tilts his head, eyebrows still raised questioningly.

“You sure?” he asks. Bdubs sighs.

“Yeah. Not anymore,” he says, folding his hands together, unfolding them, fidgeting with his fingers. For whatever reason, a prickle of nervousness stores away in his stomach, forcing him to swallow to try and push it around. He sighs, stretching out his hands. “We… we play these things differently. I know that now.”

Etho, from his peripheral, nods once.

“Oh…” he says, voice mellowing out. He sighs too. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah,” Bdubs says. He reaches out after a beat, knocking his fist into Etho’s shoulder. Etho wobbles, eyes crinkling. “I missed hanging out with you.”

“You—” Etho wheezes, voice peaking suddenly in amusement. Any higher and they’ll really risk waking Tango. “You see me every day!”

“Well!” Bdubs huffs, folding his arms. “This is different!”

Etho shakes his head. The tufts of white hair being held back by his poorly tied headband come loose all at once. He sweeps them back unsuccessfully, scrunching up his face.

“I dunno Bdubs,” he argues, squinting at him. Bdubs rolls his eyes dramatically, hunkering down over his folded arms. “Feels a bit the same, don’t’cha think?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Etho shrugs, relaxing again, leaning back against the cold stone. He finally tugs his mask down and off as he settles, turning his face from where it rests against the stone to give Bdubs a once-over. He smiles and it’s all slightly crooked teeth and sharp canines and wrinkling his nose. Bdubs’ lungs squeeze painfully. 

Maybe that’s the reason that he leans forward and grabs a fistful of Etho’s shirt. Maybe it’s the reason Etho’s hand ends up on his knee, then his thigh, then his hip as Bdubs kisses him. Maybe it’s the reason he feels Etho laugh against his mouth and kiss him again. And maybe it’s the reason that Bdubs rests his forehead against his, nose against his nose bridge, and sighs the most profound breath he has in a while. The air leaves his lungs and enters warm and humid. From this close, Bdubs can see the faint beauty marks on Etho’s cheek. He smooths his hand back up Etho’s collarbone to his shoulder, flattening out his high-neck shirt, keeping his hand under the lip of his coat, under fluff and wicking fabric.

“Let’s not do something stupid this time,” Bdubs says to the point of his nose. “Okay?”

“Like what?” Etho asks. His eyes flick up. For a moment, they’re far away, fixed on a spot far from Bdubs’ dark eyes. His expression softens like he’s remembering something far too painful. Bdubs squeezes his shoulder.

He’s never gonna get that blood off his hands, is he?

“Like stupid traps,” Bdubs finally says, forcing a smile. Etho’s eyes clear just a touch, and he pulls a face.

“I’ve never made a—” Etho pauses. Then he grins. “A stupid trap.”

Bdubs rolls his eyes. It’s in this moment that he pulls away, shaking his head as Etho giggles at him. He smothers the sound with his hands, peering over at Bdubs over his fingers. It takes everything in Bdubs not to swat at him again. His face is properly warm now.

Instead, he shuffles over and makes his home at the dip of Etho’s side. He folds his arms, huffs indignantly, and presses his cheek to his shoulder. Etho makes a small squeak. He relaxes, though, and lets Bdubs lie against him for a long moment. After that moment, however, he presses his cheek to his head and says:

“I’m not gonna let you fall asleep here.”

Bdubs grumbles.

“Fine,” he says. He lets Etho untangle himself from beside him, takes both his hands when he offers to help him stand. In the slowly building moonlight, Etho and Bdubs trudge into the small deepslate fort. Etho’s hand stays in his, warm and solid. Tango still rests soundly, sprawled out on one sleeping mat at the other side of the base, tail twitching ever so in his sleep. Bdubs sighs again as he lies down next to Etho. It takes a long time for his eyes to finally close.

At least he has him now. He doesn’t want to let him go any time soon.

[roarndoodles]

I really like both evil watcher Grian and Grian that fights against watchers, so why not combine them?

Grian was captured by Watchers after Evo. They had been scouting him out for years before they made their move. To them, Grian was the perfect specimen, someone that could be molded into another Watcher. But they were wrong.

Grian fought tooth and nail against them, and the Watchers were furious. They had to change their plan.

The ability to create players is forbidden, even to the Watchers themselves, but they could get close. An entity with parts of the original. A copy.

During one of his acts of definance, the Watchers took Grian's wings, a piece of him so integral to his identity that it would've been more merciful to have killed the avian. An avian that cannot fly is as good as a walking corpse.

They dropped him in a random solo world, flat plains, hoping that he would perish, and they began to work towards their next task.

Creating life.

Making a mob that looked like Grian was easy enough, but they needed it to BE him. Act like him, think like him, look like him, but without his rebellious personality.

They gave this mob, this entity Grian's wings, hoping that it would connect its code to him. And it worked. Soon enough, they had their own copy of Grian that they could turn into a Watcher.

But it worked too well. What is Grian without his rebellious nature?

The Watchers threw this Copy into a room void of anything except an orb to watch worlds. And what did this new creation, one without interactions of any kind with anyone else, do? He watched.

He watched his creators play in different servers. He watched them destroy, taunt, and kill. He watched them, copied their movements, their speech, their way of life until he had nothing to copy anymore. This Grian wanted more. He needed to learn more, so he started watching other worlds, ones that hadn't been touched by the Watchers.

After watching countless worlds, he found one that tugged on his soul and the wings on his back. Hermitcraft.

He sat and watched these players build and laugh, and he wanted nothing more than to join. An empty hole of socialization needed to be filled. But something was odd. Someone was on the server that looked like him, except without wings. He followed this player, watching as always through his spying orb, until he learned this player's name. Grian

But that's impossible, that's his own name...right?

He began to copy again. The movements of Grian. His way of speech. The way he presented himself.

This copy, this entity began to feel whole again. Like a part of him that was always empty being filled. He was happy. He enjoyed watching his doppelganger's escapades.

That was until he saw Grian's birthday celebration. The entity want that. He wanted to be surrounded by the hermits he had grown to love. He wanted to build. He wanted to have fun. He didn't want to stay in this room anymore. Why did this Grian get to have everything while he sat here and wasted away? In anger, he threw the observation orb against a wall and it shattered. Out of it came code.

The entity had only seen glimpses of code from when he spied on the Watchers, but this could be his opportunity. He could create a world. One with all of his friends. One where he got to meet his doppelganger.

And so he began creating a server. A server where the players have limited amount of lives. One where he could directly impact the players emotions. Make them like him. Make them his real friends.

The copy of Grian that had been locked away in the void for so long created 3rd life, and all of his new friends are going to play his game. Including Grian.

Next ->

[dmwrites]

Cecil: Birds of a feather stick together. But if that bird loses its way, it will be lost forever. Welcome… to NightVale.

[intro song plays]

Cecil: Listeners, today I have a guest with me here in the studio! Intern Vincent found our guest wandering in the desert as he was driving to the station this morning, and I jumped at the idea of having this guest on our show! So, why don’t you introduce yourself, mystery guest!

???: I’m… Grian. My name’s Grian.

Cecil: Well, welcome to our small community radio show, Grian! Listeners, Grian is-

Grian: Did you say listeners?

Cecil: Why yes! All of our wonderful citizens of NightVale, even the secret police, are listeners of my show!

Grian: Oh… never mind.

Cecil: As I was saying, listeners, our wonderful, if a tad interrupting-y, guest Grian is wearing a torn red sweater, black pants, and closed-toed shoes. I must say, that’s quite a fashion statement, Grian! Not too many people would wear a sweater in the desert. You must not be from around here!

Grian: I… no, I’m not. I’m not quite sure how I got here… I just… I thought I could escape the desert if I walked far enough.

Cecil: Well, as long as you’re not from Desert Bluffs, I’ll call you a friend! Eugh, Desert Bluffs, am I right? But speaking of Desert Bluffs, let me remind all of you that our half-a-millennia traditional triathlon against Desert Bluffs is almost upon us! Volunteers, taken from their homes at four in the morning with bags over their heads, will be competing in three sports events against our bitter rivals, Desert Bluffs. The three sports events, as is tradition, will be: bloodstone dodgeball, confronting the in-laws over broken boundaries, and pickleball. Good luck, NightVale athletes!

Grian: Did you just say, like, words? Like, genuinely, it feels like I just had a stroke. What on earth is a bloodstone?

Cecil: You know, I should have known you weren’t from around here, what with your funny accent. Where are you from, silly little man?

Grian: I… well, that’s a tough one, really. Hermitcraft? Third Life SMP? The Desert? All of them, I suppose. I really don’t know how I got here… I’m not sure this isn’t all a mirage.

Cecil: And you say I say strange things! Well, Grian, I was about to remark on how other cultures may not have bloodstones, but I just noticed all of the blood on your knuckles, and under your fingernails, and on the cuffs of your sweater, which I still do not think is seasonally appropriate.

Grian: Oh god. I thought I scrubbed it off with the sand. Scar…

Cecil: While we figure out the mysteries of the blood here in the studio, and Grian stares down at his hands in horror, let’s take a look at traffic. There is a man with a clock. He stands. He smiles. He will never stop smiling. They will call him a traitor someday, but for now, the traitor lies dead, the present he gave in the hands of that smiling man. They do not know that the clock, golden in its edges, will bind them together in ways they can’t even understand yet.

Grian: Scar is- Scar was my friend. I promised my life to him.

Cecil: I’ve promised my life to someone too! But it was marriage, to my beautiful Carlos. I love Carlos so much.

Grian: Scar… god, he was such a blundering fool, but with a heart and voice of gold. I didn’t think he’d get as far as he did, but we just kept getting away with it. We didn’t think about the end.

Cecil: What did this Scar wear? This is a audio medium, after all, Grian, and I must describe everything to the listeners.

Grian: He didn’t wear much, like, ever. Super annoying, too many abs.

Cecil: There is no such thing as too many abs, Grian.

Grian: I- sure, okay. Can I get back to my story now?

Cecil: Yes, please do! I am sure everyone, especially the secret police, are very interested.

Grian: I killed him with a creeper first. It was a prank, a mistake, but it really cemented the idea that this wasn’t all fun and games. It felt like fun and games for a long time, even after he died for the first time. It wasn’t until-

Cecil: And now, a word from our sponsor. Listeners, are you tired of having a perfect dog? Does your dog-food photo perfect dog leave you the laughing stock of the town? Do you ever wish you could put an imperfection on your dog so you could just fit in? Now you can, with warts! Just put warts on your precious pooch, and slide blissfully back into the dreary backdrop of life while walking them on their leashes. Dog Warts: because nothing can stay perfect forever.

Grian: I… I had to kill him. They- the ghosts of all of my friends, they told me there could only be one victor, and I… god… we stood in a circle of cactus, so we couldn’t leave, and we fought with our fists. I kept hitting him and hitting him and, god, Scar was never the best at fighting… and we were both laughing and I was crying and there was so much blood… it took so long for him to die, Cecil, and all I could do was keep hurting him, so he wouldn’t suffer. And then I was… alone. I said I was sorry, but he couldn’t hear me. No one could hear me anymore. I had won, but at what cost?

Cecil: That’s very dark! Uh, listeners, our guest Grian has a tear running down his cheek, and I am afraid he may burst into outright sobbing! To save you from that audio nightmare, I take you now to the weather!

[Howling by Lupus Nocte plays]

Cecil: Listeners, Grian is gone. He has left the station. He ran out, muttering something about “never being able to escape the desert”… whatever that means. Maybe we should stop inviting random people we find on the side of the deserted road with blood on their knuckles into the studio… but I am afraid that’s all the time we have for today, listeners. Stay tuned next for a canary, stuck in a cage made of bones, singing sadly for none to hear. NightVale, hug your loved ones close tonight. You never know what may happen next. And good night, NightVale, good night.

[arc852]

It's been a while since I've shared an AU but I have a lot of thoughts about Skizz and Joel joining hermitcraft and I've decided to turn it into G/t.

So basically, Skizz and Joel are joining hermitcraft but something goes wrong. Everyone is starting in a circle for the start of the season but their two newest memebers are nowhere to be seen. Everyone is confused and more than a bit worried when messaging them yields no results.

Meanwhile, Skizz and Joel wake up in a field, only a few inches tall and with no memory except their names and a vague sense of familiarity towards each other.

Because of their memory loss, they reasonably assume they have always been that size and decide to set up a small base in a tree and try to avoid the giants of the server at all costs.

Of course, eventually they get found and caught and a lot of misunderstandings come about it. Because even though these people feel familiar, it's hard for both Skizz and Joel (mostly Joel) to believe they are telling the truth.

Have a little snippet of something I wrote for this! This takes place after Skizz and Joel are caught a second time. (Also, they refer to themselves as borrowers because that is what they believe they are).

 Joel held out his sword and as the giant hand came toward him he slashed at it, sending it reeling back. “Ow! Joel!”

 Before Joel could react again, Grian’s other hand came at him and knocked him over, holding him down against the dirt. Joel felt the wind get knocked out of him for a brief moment before he struggled to try and get away.

 “Grian! Stop, you’re going to hurt him!” Joel heard Gem cry as Joel realized he wasn’t able to get his hands or sword free.

 “It’s fine Gem, it’s not like I’m using my full strength.” Grian answered back and Joel froze in his struggle. Realization crashing down on him that, yeah, this wasn’t even close to the giant’s full strength. It was probably barely even any sort of strength to the giant. And yet, Joel couldn’t free himself, because even when the giant was barely using any of his strength, Joel was nothing against him.

 He deflated, knowing he was trapped. Knowing he was caught once again.

 “Are you done?” Grian asked from above. Joel didn’t dignify him with an answer but he felt the hand around him curl in on him anyway and soon he was being held in a fist and lifted high into the air. He gave a half attempt to try and pull out the arm holding his sword but it was still trapped within the grip.

 Joel tried to look at anything but the giants surrounding him, finally noticing that Skizz also seemed to have gotten caught. Though instead of being held in a fist like him, Skizz was being cradled between two hands by Impulse. The two borrowers shared a look, with Skizz looking sympathetic towards the situation Joel had found himself in. 

 “We really are just trying to help you. And Skizz.” Grian tried but Joel didn’t want to listen.

[mochiwrites]

Any thoughts to share about the secret husbands reunion? It's giving me such brain worms, they're so soft!

ofc!!! :D

so after they reunite on mumbo’s redstone world and catch up, grian stays there for a few days with scar Constantly visiting. and honestly I think it’s an opportunity for mumbo and scar to become better friends as well! the three of them spend a lot of time in each others company after all. but mumbo does try to give scar and grian some space (I think mumbo is one of the first to notice they’ve got feelings for each other)

he also gets a front row seat to scar becoming his normal self again. the man can’t stop smiling, and he’s like a bouncy ball with how much he’s just moving around and cheerful (mumbo catches grian looking at him with a terribly fond smile Very often)

grian probably stays with mumbo for hmmm two weeks? maybe a bit longer? after crashing into his world? it gives them a lot of time to get to know each other (they get along extremely well — just like scar thought they would) and while grian doesn’t tell him Every little detail about the watchers, mumbo does end up learning about what happened and is one of the only people who knows the most

when scar isn’t with them, he’s back on the season five world hatching a plan to sneak grian onto hermitcraft

said plan is foiled Very quickly when it’s found by cub and xisuma himself. they laugh about it because “scar you could’ve just asked us to invite grian” and scar is rambling because he knows it has to be a unanimous vote and what if not everyone agrees and he’s just gotten grian back x :( he can’t be separated from him again :(

to which cub just sets a hand on his shoulder and tells him it’ll be fine (scar brings it up at the next meeting and everyone is enthusiastic about grian joining them. scar cries. a lot.)

and when he and mumbo pop into mumbo’s world again where grian is, they drop the news on him (no scar did Not tell grian about any of this beforehand) and maybe grian gets a little teary eyed too

scar stays in the world that night, curled protectively around grian and they whisper to each other about hermitcraft, the sort of server it is and the people in it. and he’s quick to reassure grian of his place in it when grian is doubtful

after grian’s injuries heal up enough mumbo lets him have his own lil plot in the world to practice his building again. it’s been so long that he’s… nervous about doing it again. what if he’s no good anymore?

when scar comes to visit he’ll sit and watch grian build, introducing the new blocks and colors and oh he’s greatly missed the way grian’s eyes sparkle with interest or when he’s got a new idea for a build — sometimes they build together, and sometimes mumbo joins them, learning some things

(he’s kind of in awe, watching the two of them work together. it’s very inspirational)

sometimes they do a build competition, with little prompts and everything. they take turns on who judges the build/gives the prompt and who actually builds

and when it’s time for season five’s ending, grian is alone in mumbo’s world for a bit while scar and mumbo wrap up whatever they need to. it’s… hard to be alone, but he comforts himself by looking at the reminders of scar (and mumbo) and he gets through

scar gets a bear hug when they return though. and then mumbo too, just so he doesn’t feel left out <3

then finally… scar brings grian home. and they’re both very emotional about it. grian sees jellie and she’s glued to his side despite his fear she wouldn’t remember him. she is extremely adamant about sleeping On grian at night, and scar teases him about stealing his cat. “our cat,” grian replies with a big grin. though scar says something about jellie missing him just as much

(I think on those days when scar would stay at their hypixel apartment in hopes grian would come home, jellie went with him. and at night she’d curl up on grian’s pillow a lot. her favorite toy would be on his side of the bed, always. scar would hold bring grian’s pillow in close with her on it and cry)

while waiting for season six to start they spruce up the apartment a bit !!! they try to get back into the swing of their routine while accounting for the new things (grian’s wings, his fears, his nightmares, the powers they gave him)

it isn’t easy, but they get through it. and when the season properly begins, they spawn in, and grian goes off on his own to adventure and meet everyone. he’s… a little awkward and shy (very unlike him, he knows) but ironically ends up right by scar and mumbo and he’s so relieved (I think scar and grian talked about basing near each other before the season began)

and yeah :D

[autumnmist101]

Skybling Head-cannons

(Some of these may be repeats from previous posts. Sorry.)

Skyblings consist of Grian, Jimmy, and Pearl.

Grian is the oldest. Hybrid form: Macaw

Jimmy is the middle-est. Hybrid form: Canary

Pearl is the youngest. Hybrid form: Magpie (not usually used)

The boys will open their wings to seem bigger and scarier. No one finds them scary.

When Pearl would open her magpie wings, it was always taken as a warning. Even if it wasn’t. This stopped once her deficiency arose.

Grian had a gut feeling that something would happen during his dragon fight in Evo. He made Jimmy promise that he would look out for Pearl before the group had met to find the stronghold.

After the wither fight that ended Legacy (season 1) Pearl and Jimmy were separated but reunited in Empires.

Pearl told him that Grian was alive and on Hermitcraft and had convinced X to let him visit. The reunion was beautiful.

Pearl and Jimmy will lift Grian off the ground every time they hug him.

Two will gang up to tease the other about their crush(s)/squish(es).

Grian and Jimmy are constantly wrestling or playing pranks on the other.

Grian and Pearl are verbal stimmers while Jimmy is usually physical.

Monthly preening sessions.

Jimmy will play with Pearl’s hair whenever she’s in front of him. He won’t tie it up because Pearl doesn’t like it like that.

All three will squawk when surprised/startled.

The boys will give Pearl nicknames. ie. ‘gift from above’, happy little bilby, wittle sis, Pearly whirly. She’s made them promise to not use them in public.

Grian always bakes cookies during the blood moon week.

Pearl found out about Ariana Griande through Mumbo and got pictures from him. She’s definitely used it as blackmail a couple times.

Jimmy has a special sandwich he makes the two whenever they're hungry but can't decide what to eat.

Heyo! Sorry it's been a while since I've last posted, but I have been thinking of things. Head-cannons, fanfics, fan art, incorrect quotes and all the amazing things that we put here. Point is I got ideas, just no motivation to put it down. Hopefully I can push through it. Until then hoped you enjoyed these head-cannons! <3

[angeart]

hhau rescue rambles - part I

>> hhau masterpost here << [cw besides the usual mess and violence: animal death mention]

It’s been months since the latest hermit got saved, and over a year since Hermitcraft imploded. There’s only two people to go: Scar and Grian. And they can’t seem to locate them at all. But they can’t stop looking. They can’t, they won’t. 

The rescue party is comprised of X (voidwalker), Doc (creeper), Ren (wolf), Impulse (partially demon), Cub (vex), Gem (deer), and Pearl (moth). Thanks to X knowing how to navigate and survive the void, they are able to get a void vessel (a sort of ship) to base in as they go around scanning different worlds and scouring for information. 

Until they come across a world that reads as permadeath, and somewhere in the world files, X flags Grian’s and Scar’s name. Not as players; there’s no list available here. What comes up is the wanted poster. It doesn’t have a date stamp. It could be months old, and they know Scar's track record with dying.

Still, they have to try.

They search for a place that seems to have good resources and Cub, Gem, and Pearl get dropped down. They’re equipped with bracelets that they can activate to send X a signal to teleport them back, and two extra for Grian and Scar, if they do find them, but they have to gather any other kind of equipment, including armour and weapons, on their own.

They quickly realise comms don’t work on this world, and as the player list is also non-existent or corrupted, they are going in blind.

Well… almost.

They use Cub’s vex bond with Scar to pick a direction to head in.

--

Grian and Scar, in the meanwhile, are not having a Good Time. 

Some awful things have happened prior to this, namely the ending of the Summer house arc. To quickly sum it up, Grian and Scar went up north, for as long as they could. Away, away, away from everyone. Until it felt like maybe they’re far away enough, and they tentatively set up a house. Which turned into a nest. Which turned into a semblance of permanence.

A lot of things went on here. Days turned into peaceful weeks and, tentatively, they started thinking that maybe they can start planning some kind of future here. They planted crops. Scar re-learned to glide with his torn wings. Grian unfurled his wings and re-learned the feeling of flying through the sky. And they found a bird friend! (A real, living bird in this world!)

The reality caught up to them eventually. 

Nobody’s really seen Scar or Grian for a while, but the avians in this world have dull wing patters, for survival reasons, and so Grian is really special. And the hunters don’t want to give that up. The reward on the wanted poster gets upped, and now the fever pitch to get this avian rises. The hunters go further. In bigger groups. Greedy and determined.

They find the nest house, empty at the time, and they burn it down. 

Scar and Grian come back to find it in flames, and to find themselves unsafe and hunted once again. All of a sudden, they have nothing again. The fire licks high, turning everything to ash, to a distant cheering and hollering of a party of hunters. There’s no sign of their bird friend.

(Grian finds him later. Dead, with wings cut off. The only creature that resembled him; the bird he befriended, the proof that a winged creature could exist here and survive. Ripped to pieces. Echoing the only fate that is bound to await Grian as well.) (It was a sun conure parrot, bright and beautiful.) 

The hunters are on their tail once they realise that Scar and Grian are here; that it wasn’t just some temporary base that’s now abandoned. With no remorse and still too much cheer, bloodthirsty and unstoppable, they go after them. 

Scar’s blood is absolutely boiling and he expects Grian to ground him. To talk him down. But Grian’s mind buzzes, looking at that bird, and— He’s as down to fight as Scar is. Because anger is easier than grief right now.

He’s so tired of grief. 

So instead, Grian goes angry and feral. (The other option is to fall apart, and he can’t.) 

They tear this particular hunting group apart, and it’s meant to make them feel better, but it doesn’t. It feels like a necessity; like just one more step towards survival. They loot what they can, and they continue moving, realising that stopping anywhere to do more than just survive is a moot point. They’re not going to outrun this. They'll never be allowed to stop. They’ll be hunted forever.

(Grian will be hunted forever—)

The word gets out, and more and more hunters arrive, wanting the trophy of violet wings and the wanted reward for themselves. It’s a sport to them. A way to get rich. Like a gold fever, they continue tracking Grian and Scar, relentlessly hounding them down.

There are times when things go worse in these encounters. Grian gets his wings grabbed and attacked, and it sends him spiraling back to never allowing anyone—including himself—to touch his feathers. (He was doing better and now it’s all gone.)

They internalise many horrible thoughts, during their run. It’s been a year-worth of culmination of awful events, a year worth of pain and fear and loss. 

For Scar, as a vex, he’s been expected to be a monster from the start. And all he wanted here was some peace. To be with Grian. He wasn’t allowed it, but now he finally got a glimpse at it—at what could’ve been; at who he wanted to be from the beginning (who he’s always been)—and it’s violently taken from him. So yeah, fuck it. If they want a monster, he’ll be a monster. 

(This leads him to thinking that he shouldn’t be trusted with soft things anymore, Grian’s feathers included, especially as Grian gets ground-bound again and starts pulling his wings tightly against his back and flinching at the mere implication of touch.) (It hurts to witness, after what Scar’s seen: Grian, freely gliding through the sky, violet feathers catching sunlight.) (He was allowed to preen them, tentatively, slowly, gradually, a couple of times.) (Not anymore. Not anymore.)

 Grian keeps thinking about the bird, and how they’re the same. He’s seen the brutal display, the way the wings were taken. He can’t quite stop thinking about it. 

But it’s more than that. He’s also thinking about [redacted]. About anything winged being doomed. About what happened with the vexes. It all spins and spins and spins until he can’t see himself as anything but harbinger of death.

The hunters wouldn’t care to go this far for one vex. They only go because of his goddamn feathers.

Naturally, this topples into him thinking that Scar will be safer and better off without him. They’ve been running on sleepless nights and exhaustion, trying to get away to no avail. They’re tired, and things are looking dire, and— Grian wants it to stop. He needs Scar to be taken out of this equation, separated from this fate. He needs him to be safe. (He can’t bring death to Scar.)

Grian can lead the hunters the other way. They only really care about him. ([redacted] already proved that point, after all.) 

So one night, Grian sneaks away.

He presses a soft kiss to Scar before he goes. (It’s a farewell kiss.) Scar is asleep, only kind of waking up to it—just that groggy, sleepy “mm?” Grian kisses his forehead again, oh so gently, and murmurs the quietest “Love you. Stay safe for me.” To Scar, it just feels like a dream, and he dozes off again, none the wiser.

The next morning, Scar wakes up to Grian gone.

For a while, he doesn’t even remember that hazy interaction from the night, but then he does remember, all of a sudden. An absolute vertigo slams into him, panic flooding his veins as he stares down the empty, quiet forest.

And this is when the Hermit Rescue Party finds him.

They only find Scar.

They only find Scar, and they instantly try to take him off world.

-- part II here

[twilight-skies]

Welcome to the Game, Player.

Yeah I turned videogame and streamer logic into actual worldbuilding. Here are my headcanons for the Minecraft Multiverse :D

This is all geared towards, shall I say, “the stuff I personally know and care about” aka Hypixel, the lore connected to Hermitcraft & Company, and lore adjacent to the Dream SMP & Associated.

Players & Worlds:

Players will Spawn in singleplayer worlds when the World itself wills them to. They begin as an empty husk of a Default, and they build their personality through their following experiences and first memories. Sometimes they are found while New by other inhabitants; Villagers may take them in and give them shelter, while hostile creatures who perceive Players as enemies will attack on sight. A Player’s first instinct is to survive the night; if they are killed in their first day of life then the chance of getting to re-spawn are exponentially low, and overall their chances of it are faulty until they set-spawn at their first bed.

A Player is unique and easily identified by the two items they Spawn with on them: some sort of bag which is customized to their personality, and a gadget stored inside it. Their Inventory and their Interface. The former is a liminal space where Players can safely store things inside without carrying their weight or shape, while the latter is a device which acts as their communicator, announcement receiver, command station, and server database. They Spawn knowing how to use both, and the database comes loaded with an index public servers in the multiverse, but it is up to them to learn how to switch Worlds.

Often, their own personal singleplayer World that they Spawn into will become their primary homebase. Though, sometimes Players may abandon it once they travel to others, or they may unintentionally lose their way back to it. This creates nomad Players, who set up shop in other public or private multiplayer servers.

Hybrids:

All Player are spawned “Default”; they will either begin with an identical appearance to either Alex or Steve (see Origins). As Players progress in the Game and develop their own unique personhood, their physical body will evolve in tandem. Very quickly their body will shift and change to suit the individual, changing whatever it wills itself to; from color to shape of any bodypart, as well as melding their own psychologically. What they end up as is usually a combination of their personality and the environment they set themselves up in. Most become some sort of hybrid of a human and another mob species; the closest to Default (human) Players remain is if they imitate the Villagers they may live with.

Families:

It is possible for a New, much younger Player to be Spawned in an already-inhabited world; those are usually children who are taken in by the veteran adult Player. The rate of this type of Spawning on multiplayer worlds can be dictated by the Admin—the demigod-esque Player who holds control over the world for the rest of its Playerbase. There are some worlds that are Closed Servers but have been active for enough centuries that they have grown their own insular societies of Players who consistently raise families of New-Spawned children. These servers are often based around the concept of Factions and are ruled by their own geopolitical systems. Perhaps the most famous insular factions server was S.M.P. Earth, home to millions spread across strict yet changing national borders, before it became defunct (a multiplayer World who’s will for a Playerbase died out after it was previously inhabited by thousands, but was later abandoned and became lost to the multiverse).

Nevertheless, a vast majority of the Playerbase were Spawned as adults and made themselves either all alone or only with none-Player, World-bound inhabitants, collectively referred to as Non-Player-Characters.

Servers:

While every Player spawns in a World of their own, Player society has built up networks of servers called Hubs. These are public communities where thousands of Players could convene for any reason, although the Admin teams of these Networks often fashioned their spaces into Minigame Hubs, centers of public competition, commerce and sport. The most well-known example of these Hubs is the influential Hypixel Network, while an outlier in these is the MCC Network, a hybrid of a closed server up until Championship Day once per year when the spectator arenas are open for public attendance of the games.

Origins:

No one knows where the legends came from, but it said that the first two Players were named Alex Mine and Steve Craft. It says that they each had their own Worlds, but Steve invented the first Interface and met Alex in her own world. It is unknown what happened to them, but it is often agreed that they died and the gods took their souls and scattered shards of them across all the Worlds. With each Player, they would spawn with perfect versions of Steve’s creations so that they could traverse Worlds and meet with each other. The next Players to have Spawned after Alex and Steve were named Sunny, Efe, Noor, Zuri, Ari, Makena, and Kai. Over thousands of following years, billions of Players spawned; each of their own beings being born out of tiny sparks of the first Players’ conjoined souls.

Death:

Admins hold power over the circumstances of death in their Worlds. By default, Worlds without Admins—such as singleplayer ones, or Worlds without anything but an Admin, such as Creative ones—or Worlds where the Admins haven’t changed it, are under Infinite re-spawn (at least once a Player solidifies their life via their first bed). However, some worlds can be set to Hardcore, where a Player only has one life and will die permanently, or some rare worlds may have a set amount of times a Player can re-spawn before perma-death; a count judged by the Admin.

Players do not age; they bare the appearance most fitting to their personality and their health on the inside is the same. Only in rare scenarios can Players become disabled via injury, usually if there is a glitch in their re-spawn or if they were hurt badly in their First Night (those who do suffer either of those, though, are expected to be given a high level of respect for managing to survive through it). All Players, such as all living beings in Minecraft, are functionally immortal until killed (N.P.C.s) or perma-killed (Players). No one knows what happens after death, but the transition of souls in governed by the Goddess of Death.

The most common belief is that a dead N.P.C.’s soul will reincarnate into a new Player, via their soul being combined with a shard of Alex and Steve, which may possibly influence what kind of hybrid the Player becomes. However, in the case of the deceased souls of Players, they are guided by Lady Death through the void until they, as a disembodied voice, latch onto a living Player they find fun or entertaining. This is how some Players gain Chats, ranging from a few voices to thousands of them. The living Player is the only one who can understand the voices, and they collectively manifest in a way often relevant to the Player’s own species, or possibly their relationship to the gods.

Deities:

There are many gods that preside over the Multiverse, but they are often grouped into:

The Prime, primordial deities who are the manifestations of natural things or abstract concepts, such as War, Nature, Death, Ocean, Chaos, Fortune, Competition, etc.

and The Presiders. It is said that these collectively are the patrons of Playerkind; the mysterious beings who created Alex and Steve as curious experiments after the Prime completed the initial building of the Worlds (initial, because the multiverse’s building is never complete. New additions to the Worlds are introduced often, courtesy of the Prime). They are the ones who scattered Steve and Alex’s souls to create the Playerbase, and they preside over the Players to this day.

However, the Presiders are split, due to their own past of Civil War—the inciters of which is unknown, but it is theorized that the break was due to a disagreement over their treatment of the Players.

Now, they are divided between two rival hiveminds, the Watchers and the Listeners. While Players call themselves by the name that the Prime use to refer to those who inhabit their Game, the Presiders collectively call them The Speakers, making them the last piece of their triumvirate.

One thing that all of the deities do, is find interest in certain Players. The Prime may choose champions; people they bless with their presence, who they speak to through a Chat, and who they recruit as their own voices amongst the Playerbase.

The Prime chooses champions, but Players cannot join their ranks as deities. However, the Presiders do not take champions; instead they can transform Players into their kin—whether willingly or not. They additionally hold the ability to choose one amongst their own to send down into the Game; in such a scenario the chosen Presider will become a Player while there, retaining their own power of Watching or Listening, but cut off from their kin until they return to the void.

tysm for reading :3

[logosbot-tm-fics]

Hellooooooo Grumbo Nation! I wrote a fanfic based on "I'm all the friend that you need." You can either read it here or over on ao3, fic below the cut!

Satisfaction Feels Like A Distant Memory

Mumbo had never really been the jealous type. He had never been bothered by his friends having other friends, and he'd never felt as if he needed attention.

If that was because he didn't think he deserved the attention, or if it was because he'd never viewed himself as all that important, didn't matter. He just had never needed attention.

And then he got to know Grian, and suddenly, he got flooded with attention and appreciation. As if he was incredibly important. As if the world revolved around him.

It had made his chest warm, something comforting and cozy making its home within his heart.

The hermits had always cared for him, and they'd always supported him, but this? This was different.

As if he'd found something to make his soul whole, even though it had never been broken.

And Grian kept giving him attention. Kept showing up to talk to him. Kept telling him that he loved him. Kept making things about Mumbo. Even when they didn't need to be at all.

Mumbo never fully knew what to do in return, but Grian also never asked for anything. He just seemed to be completely content with showering Mumbo with affection, even if the other Hermit ended up a blushing awkward mess, Grian didn't seem to mind.

At least Mumbo was convinced he hadn't minded.

He might've been wrong.

He'd first noticed it on the Hermitcraft server.

After he'd been away for a while, taking a much needed break, he'd returned. Grian had behaved the way he normally did, and Mumbo let his mind relax when he realized that nothing had really changed.

Their relationship was the way it always had been, and Mumbo assumed it would continue to be.

Then things changed. Little by little. Slowly, Grian became less affectionate, slowly he began prioritizing other people, and slowly they saw each other less and less.

Mumbo had never been a jealous person, but now the jealousy was brewing in his stomach, filling his head with a dripping black poison. He hadn't been a jealous person, but now he was.

And as time passed, it started to make Mumbo really, really annoyed.

First, he just tried to get Grian's attention, in Secret Life he tried to talk to him as often as he could. Something that was made easier by the fact that Grian would occasionally show up to check out his base.

But before Mumbo could ask Grian if he'd like to join the mounders, Grian had suddenly joined Cleo and Etho instead.

Mumbo almost broke his pickaxe in two when he found out.

Then Mumbo had ended up as his butler for the session. Mumbo hoped it would mean that they'd get an opportunity to hang out more. Due to the nature of the game, and due to Grian being the way he was, Grian had still managed to stay away.

Eventually Mumbo made one small mistake, and was out of the series before he even fully processed what happened.

A small part of him was quite pleased with how horrified Grian had sounded when Mumbo drowned in the lava.

Despite how close they previously had been, and despite the fact Grian and Mumbo were now on a team in Wild Life, Mumbo's jealousy just got worse.

One session– it turned into pure paranoia– and he was certain that Grian would leave him and Skizz.

He ended up accusing Grian of lying to the and of going behind their backs. Yet, it turned out that that was all in Mumbo's head. Grian hadn't betrayed them, he hadn't started some secret project on his own. He had in reality just done what he'd said.

Which did calm Mumbo's paranoia, but not the jealousy. Yes, now he was sure that Grian would suddenly leave, but he still didn't like it when Grian talked to other people.

It ticked him off, and it ticked him off a lot.

Inevitably the jealousy brewed over when Grian got stuck talking to a group of people.

"Sorry that I have other friends, Mumbo!" Grian yelled, and the poison flooded into Mumbo's veins. It made his body fill with an ugly emotion, one that ended up settling in his chest. An urge to keep Grian away from everyone else. An urge to keep Grian to himself.

"I don't like that." He said through gritted teeth, following Grian as he kept walking. Not even looking back at Mumbo to see if he was following.

And he didn't like it.

Wasn't he enough? Wasn't Mumbo enough for Grian? He certainly used to be, so why wasn't he anymore? He was supposed to be all the friend Grian needed, when had that changed?

"I don't like that one bit. I'm all the friend you need." Mumbo said finally, and he pretended to not notice the glance Grian gave him. He couldn't be bothered to figure out what it meant.

He just wanted Grian to himself.

Somehow, that meant that for the rest of the session, Mumbo kept telling Grian that should just kick Skizz off the team.

He wanted it to just be the two of them. Alone. Only them.

When the snails finally disappeared, the horror of the week over, Mumbo found himself sitting awake in the middle of the night, Grian and Skizz sleeping soundly nearby.

He wasn't supposed to be up. Sure, there were reds on the server, but there was no need to keep watch. The end of each week was always peaceful as if to give the players a moment to charge up a bit, or to maybe lull them into a false sense of safety before hell broke out again.

Despite the peaceful night, Mumbo couldn't sleep. He was stuck staring at the starry night outside, the moon almost glowing like a lamp.

He couldn't stop thinking. No matter what he tried, his mind didn't shut off.

He couldn't stop thinking about how badly he wanted to have all of Grian's attention. How badly he wanted things to return to the way it always had been.

That ugly jealousy had now made its home in Mumbo, replacing the warm fuzzy feeling he had felt in the past.

Where had he misstepped? He'd behaved the way he normally did, and yet Grian's attention had shifted to other things.

No wonder he'd snapped earlier that week. He just wanted to return to being the center of Grian's universe.

He glanced over at the sleeping Grian. He was lying between Mumbo and Skizz, slightly closer to Mumbo. He looked younger when he was asleep, less stressed and significantly more relaxed. As if his worries all vanished when he fell asleep.

Mumbo couldn't stop staring. He wanted to pull him into his arms and run his fingers through the soft looking hair.

Grian must've noticed that Mumbo was staring, and sleepily opened his eyes. He sat up and stretched a bit, his shirt riding up just a tiny bit, revealing the skin of his stomach.

Mumbo quickly looked away, trying to cover up how much he'd been staring. Not that Grian hadn't already noticed. He definitely had, but Mumbo didn't want to acknowledge that, and instead just looked at the sky outside.

He heard Grian yawn, followed by the noise of him shuffling closer. “Can't sleep?” Grian asked, now sitting right next to Mumbo.

Mumbo shook his head in response. “No.” He replied, truthfully. He had tried to, but quickly gave up when his thoughts became too loud.

“That's alright. This session was rather stressful, even for me.” Grian said, and leaned his head against Mumbo's shoulder.

Mumbo suddenly became very aware of how loudly his own heart was beating, how he wanted to melt into Grian's touch. Just having Grian close felt reliving, the jealousy fading a bit. “That's not…that's not why I'm awake.” Mumbo confessed silently.

“It isn't?” Grian asked, his arm wrapping around Mumbo's, their hands becoming intertwined.

Mumbo looked at him, and now he could clearly see what he'd ignored earlier. Concern. Grian's eyes were filled with worry and concern, something he rarely showed. It was the same thing that had shown on his face when he had glanced at Mumbo. “No.” Mumbo replied, letting himself take in the view of Grian's face. He looked rather adorable in his sleepy state, and he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty that he had made the other concerned. “My thoughts are just a tad bit too loud, I fear.” He sighed.

Grian's brows furrowed. “I can give you some space if you'd like, if that would help.”

Before he could stop himself, Mumbo's hold on Grian's hand got stronger, as he was now gripping onto it instead. He didn’t want him to leave him alone. He wanted him there. Right next to him. He wanted him to remain close. “Please don't.” He whispered, voice cracking slightly at the fragility of the words. “Could you stay?”

And in a brief second, relief took the place of the concern in Grian's expression, his eyes softening. He smiled slightly at Mumbo. “Of course.”

He spoke with the same reverence his voice had had in the past. The same softness. The same care.

Mumbo had to actively fight against himself to not wrap his arms around him, to not hold onto him in the way a snake holds onto its prey. “Thank you.” He replied instead.

Grian let go of Mumbo's hand, and instead laid down again, this time with his head in Mumbo's lap.

Almost as soon as he'd laid down, Mumbo's hand began to card his fingers through Grian's hair. It was just as soft as it appeared.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Grian asked, looking up at Mumbo.

Mumbo shook his head. “I'd rather not.” He replied. “Not tonight at least.”

Grian yawned, obviously still tired, and nodded. “Alright. You can tell me whenever you feel like it, I'm here for you if you need me.”

Mumbo's chest filled with the warmth it had lacked for so many months, the very same fuzzy feeling he was almost sure had been completely replaced by jealousy.

He suddenly found himself smiling softly at Grian, feeling a fondness that was almost overwhelming. “Thanks, bud.”

Grian chuckled. “Anytime.”

The cave turned quiet again, as Mumbo kept playing with Grian's hair. Soon enough, Grian's quiet snores filled the silence, falling asleep with his head in Mumbo's lap.

Despite the beautiful view of the sky outside, Mumbo couldn't look away from Grian.

He wanted nothing more than to just continue looking at him.

And as he sat there, he slowly realized that it wasn't just that he wanted to be the center of Grian's universe. He wanted more. He wanted to wake up next to him, wanted to hold his hand and follow him to the end of the universe.

He hadn't realized it before, but his world revolved around Grian. To Mumbo, Grian was the center. The sun around which the planets orbited around. Mumbo the moon, constantly trying to soak up any of the sunshine that Grian would give him.

He loved him. That's what the fuzzy feeling was. That's why he'd been so jealous.

He sat in silence, wondering if Grian felt the same. If that's why Grian had behaved the way he did in the past, and if he'd given up when Mumbo didn't seem to reciprocate.

How foolish of Mumbo. If he'd just played along a bit more, if he had given Grian just a bit more attention, maybe he wouldn't be feeling the jealousy he felt.

Maybe they'd be together.

But he didn't want to ask Grian now. It felt rude to wake him up, when he had fallen asleep again. He wanted to know though. He wanted to know if he was right.

Sighing, Mumbo carefully placed Grian on the ground, and laid down next to him, deciding to try to fall asleep again.

And maybe Grian hadn't been sleeping so deeply, because he opened his eyes again, though this time, he appeared significantly less awake than earlier.

Mumbo froze, unsure of what to do.

Then Grian sighed, and stretched out an arm, gesturing for him to move closer. “Come on, get over here.” He said.

And Mumbo did.

Grian immediately pressed himself closer to Mumbo, as Mumbo carefully wrapped his arms around him. “Maybe you're right, you know?” Grian whispered.

“What do you mean?” Mumbo asked, as he felt himself become tired.

Grian smiled at him, slightly mischievously. “Maybe you are all the friend that I need.” He said, sounding very pleased.

“I-” Mumbo didn't get a chance to reply though, as Grian quickly fell back asleep.

Eventually Mumbo fell asleep too, and for the first time in a long while, he slept very well.

[blueishspace]

Looped Sun 8

Loop #282

Scott knew that he was lucky, he had so many bits and storylines that the world tree wouldn't typecast him like he did loopers from other loops... Still, sometimes he could forget how repetitive could be. He definitely wasn't forgetting it any time soon, not after 4 loops of straight up just being a skeleton.

Loop #285

This version of Double Life was going to give Grian a migraine... Or Grain he guesses since everyone's names were just wrong... Jimmy was Timmy, Ren was Ron, Etho was Efo and the worst offender... Martin. Grian was tempted to just die and go to Hermitcraft but was deathly afraid of what the rest of Hermitcraft will be called in this loop.

Loop #287

Pearl loved this loop... at first, she got to be a coffe shop barista without the annoying customers that usually come with the job, she didn't mind the coffe shop au fanfic-ness of it as long as she got to have fun. Then a genocidal villain crashed into the windows and she realized exactly what kind of loop this was. Listen, that villain wasn't even a good one (she was one a few lopps ago and she was way better at it) so ahe didn't really care about them. The most entertaining part of the loop was ignoring the plot every time it appeared, even when the story actively twisted to bring her towards it.

Loop #289

Scar ... Well he was a bit offended? He didn't usually get offended easily but being treated like he wasn't capable of stuff wasn't really nice... So of course he woke up in a loop were he truly was unable to do most thing he normally could do. He was used to being unable to use his legs, it was like 30% of the loops, but guess he upgraded to just not being able to do anything... He didn't even get a motorized wheelchair this time around.

... Unlucky for the loop he always carried one of those in his pocket but still.

Loop #292

Mumbo was a bit miffed by this loop... a bit unchuffed even. He knew that spoons were a bit of his thing... everyone knew that. But looping in a room full of spoons...and only spoons seemed a bit unoriginal to him? It wasn't just him that saw the problem, right? ... Hopefully someone was going to come soon.

Loop #295

Grian: Mr. Strange Sir?

Doctor Strange: It's doctor Strange.

Grian: Right... you have the time stone here...right?

Doctor Strange: I do. Why?

Grian: Right, uh in my loop as long as the loop starts before a certain point I get access to an infinity gauntlet... Back in baseline it was just a game but in some variants they are actual infinity stones. Could you teach me how to use the time stone?

Doctor Strange: Perhaps, the time tone is very dangerous you must understand. You will need be patient if you don't want to destroy the pillars of reality.

Grian: ... ...Understood.

Loop #297

Scott: Be not afraid.

Pearl: Scott?!? Why are you glowing.

Scott: Last Loop I was in Marvel and accidentally fused with the Tesseract last loop.

Pearl: ... Mate...

Scott: Yes?

Pearl: HOW DID YOU ACCIDENTALLY FUSE WITH THE TESSERACT!??

Scott: ... I wish I could tell you but I don't know either.

Loop #299

Mumbo liked spiders well enough, he understood why people didn't like them but he found they weren't too bad.

*knock knock, who is it mr.spider? It's ms. fruit and she brought you some flowers. Mr spider doesn't eat flowers*

Mumbo feels he's going to be forced to change his mind soon.

*knock knock, who is it mr.spider? It's mr. Horse and he brought you his son. Mr spider wants more*

Call it a gut feeling.

Scar was alone... He had been alone for a while. A long while. He didn't know loops could last this long...or maybe he was just stuck there. He had started crying at some point a while ago, his tears turned into mist which was kinda weird. He felt like he should like this for some reason, like somone was whispering to him that this place was good...but...he hated this so much. He wanted Grian and Mumbo and Pearl and Scott. He didn't want to be alone. He never wanted to be alone. And maybe it was this realization but the mist slowly settled away.

Pearl had looked at the incoming mist and she became angry, truly angry, she wasn't going to be alone again. If this loop really wanted a Double Life Pearl then it will get what it wants. Running in the woods with her pack of hunting wolves, creeping and stalking behind her pray is the most fun she had in a long while.

Scott was in space? Scott liked space despite all the times he saw it. It was giant, ever changing, immense, vast. He was just a point floating in a black void filled with stars and comets and so much there is still to discover. It is truly beautiful. He doesn't mind staying in space a bit more... But he should bring other to view this beauty with him.

Grian... well... Grian didn't know how to feel he imagined he would loop in this world eventually considering his status as a watcher... But he expected to loop into the world not... He didn't expect to loop as "The Ceaseless Watcher". It was weird, it was like being a sea connected to other seas, he could feel the other dread.gods melding and mixing in points of his being... He couldn't wait for this to end.

Loop #302

A band? And Pearl got synth? Oh this was going to be fun!

Mumbo: I don't know about this...

Mumbo was at the drums, he had taken a few lessons with Impulse a while back but he didn't... he was worried about performing.

Scott: Come on Mumbo you are going to do great!

Mumbo: I just-

Scott: Scar and Grian agree with me.

Mumbo: They do?

Grian: Of course! You got this Mumbo!

Scar: Yeah!

Mumbo: A-alright!

Loop #305

Grian had already stated what he tought about all the dsmp loops lots of time... Still, getting to rescue Tommy from Dream had been nice, it just took going sun titan mode with a hints of dread god and the green hooded man ran away. Now come the issue, he couldn't exactly adopt Tommy.

...

That's exactly what he ended up doing, to be fair it was hard to say no to him considering the context. Still, it wasn't like bad, despite the swearing Tommy was a good kid.

...

Grian might have gone full sun titan again and got Tommy's disk back... it was his birthday and Grian knew that the loop was close to ending.

Loop #307

The newest vote had made everyone's head giant, they looked like enormous babies... It was really unsettling the longer they looked at it.

Grian: Mumbo! Your head is so big!

Mumbo: Wha-

Scar: ... That's what she said.

Grian: SCAR!

Mumbo: Oh-

Scar: Wait no I'm sorry!

Loop #310

Grian: Are we siblings Pearl?

Pearl: ... What do you mean mate?

Grian: Sometimes we are twins, sometimes we are siblings, sometimes we are cousins, in this loop we aren't related at all...

Pearl: Yeah?

Grian: So do you see us as siblings?

Pearl: I mean, I never tought of it really... do you?

Grian: Yes? No? Maybe? It's complicated, that's why I was asking what you tought.

Pearl: Do you want to try?

Grian: Try?

Pearl: Try being siblings, see if it works?

Grian: I... alright. Siblings it is.

Pearl: Siblings.

...

Grian: Akward sibling hug time?

Pearl: Yeah, watched Gravity Falls recently mate?

Grian: It has a lot of eye imaginery, just preparing for the inevitable.

Prev Next First

[pixiemage]

Do You Believe In Magic?

[Part of the Magebound Universe]

23,458 words Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series, Hermitcraft SMP Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/TangoTek Additional Tags: Past Jimmy | Solidarity/Scott Major | Smajor1995, Mage AU, Witch and Familiar AU, Witch TangoTek, Familiar Jimmy Solidarity, Canary Jimmy | Solidarity, Blaze Hybrid TangoTek (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Injury, First Meetings, Soulmates, Witch/Familiar Bonds, Magebonds, Baby Ravagers :3, Hermitshipping Big Bang 2023

[A/N: Hey all! This has been in the works for quite a while by now. For anyone who read the mini Ethubs fic I posted most recently, this story takes place in the same universe (though later in the timeline). I've been itching to share the Ranchers' origin story with you for ages!

Much love to the HSBB server for their inspiration and friendship and support, and even MORE love to the handful of spectacular artists who created artwork for this story! Links to their creations can be found here, as well as in the endnotes.]

@fantasykiri5 [Trapped] [Jimmy] [Tango] @joifee [Feathers] @aviomons [Magic] @setacin [Campire]

{This work can also be found on Archive Of Our Own}

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The late afternoon sun filtered down through the trees, the ever-shifting leaves and branches high overhead casting scattered, evolving shadows across the forest floor below. Every so often a stray sunbeam would cross Jimmy’s face…but for how deep in the forest he was, it didn’t happen often. Below the canopy the forest was cool, what little heat from the day that still lingered in the shadows already beginning to lessen with each minute that ticked by.

Jimmy was grateful for the shade, and the breeze, and the barely-there smell of petrichor that still hung around from the rain that had come through earlier that afternoon. It left his walk in the woods with a peaceful sort of feeling hanging over it. He was beginning to think he might have picked the perfect day to attune with his avian side. It had been a while since he’d had the chance, really…not that it was entirely his fault.

(He couldn’t help but think his own actions took more than a little of the blame.)

Jimmy let out a breath, hiking his satchel higher onto his shoulder and doing his best to focus on where he was going.

The Southlands Coven had been a nice escape, after everything. It had been a chaotic whirlwind of magical malpractice and experimentation, a place to just let loose and not worry too much about where he had been before. It helped him to forget about Sc– his former bond, and about whatever he had left behind at that cottage. The Southlanders helped him remember himself, and forget himself, and remember to have fun again.

Not - not that he hadn’t had fun with - with him, and them, but there had been a tension Jimmy hadn’t been willing to endure, and a past that wasn’t his own that needed facing. Jimmy was helping no one by sticking around.

Jimmy’s jaw tensed and he huffed out a breath, pushing the thought aside. He was meant to be focussing on nature, on the natural magic in the earth, and on his familiar form. He was meant to be finding the right place to attune, like Grian and Martyn had both suggested. Not…not agonizing over broken magebonds. It was in the past.

In truth, Jimmy conceded as he clambered over a massive protruding root, he had been with the Southlanders for over a year by the time they disbanded, but even then it wasn’t that long of a span of time in the grand scheme of things. The lingering ache of a severed bond had only fully faded around the seven-month mark, so perhaps he could be forgiven for still missing the feeling of someone else’s magic humming alongside his own.

Sc– his magic had been smooth and graceful and almost cool to the touch, often carefully controlled in a way that Jimmy’s almost never was. Jimmy’s magic was an energetic thing, always moving and buzzing and sparkling at him for attention at the slightest thing. He’d had to reign it in more times than he cared to count, so finding a witch like - like him, a witch who maintained such careful discipline over the way his own magic behaved and who naturally extended that control down the bond to include Jimmy as well? It was - well, it was something. It was stifling, but comforting all the same. It was nice to not feel so scattered all the time…but it wasn’t quite freeing enough for someone like Jimmy whose familiar form was a bird.

Perhaps that was why Jimmy had known from the start that their magic wasn’t meant to be bound forever, and he would have known even without the contract for a temporary bond that he had signed when he’d been hired. The relationship they’d forged in the time they’d been bound, though? Now that was something Jimmy had hoped would last a little longer. But once Jimmy had helped him with his task, once his former magebound was back from wherever she’d been lost to, and his focus shifted to helping to nurse his true familiar back to health - well.

It became all too awkward for Jimmy to hang around when his priorities were no longer on romantic relationships.

And Jimmy understood, he did. He understood the importance of magebonds as well as anyone. He wasn’t surprised that he immediately prioritized her when she needed him most, and he wasn’t surprised that he, Jimmy, got forgotten in the process. Perhaps worse still, it didn’t seem to surprise him when Jimmy said he’d be leaving.

Perhaps it was only ever meant to be short and sweet. Perhaps one day he’d be able to remember it fondly. But at the moment, he just wanted to forget.

Jimmy paused in a small clearing, closing his eyes and using his magic to reach out with delicate tendrils, sensing the natural magic of the forest and trying to follow where it wanted to lead him. He was close. He was very, very close. He took careful steps with his eyes closed, the damp spring grass shushing softly against his shoes. A little…a little left…ah.

A warm vibration of pure, gentle energy danced at his peripherals, making his magic buzz, making his core resonate with a low, silent tune. Slowly, he let his satchel drop to the grass, and he sank down beside it. He pulled off his shoes and shrugged off his overshirt, leaving them piled on his bag and leaving him unencumbered. He listened and he felt and he breathed.

A full familiar transformation was meant to feel as natural as breathing. Once you managed it the first time it was meant to become second nature, as easy to repeat as your own name.

Lately, for Jimmy, that hadn’t been the case. He could summon up a handful of reasons why if asked. There was one he blamed more than the others. But no matter the reason behind it, it was because of this disconnect from his avian side that Grian had all but demanded for Jimmy to take the time to find a peaceful connection point and attune.

He had been absolutely appalled that Jimmy hadn’t attempted to do so sooner, and Martyn had been equally irate about it. So…off Jimmy went.

That had been a week ago.

Now, Jimmy took a slow breath and let his magic sink. He let it melt out of his core and to the very tips of his fingers, to the ends of his hair…let it sit just below the skin. He let it fill him completely, let it greet the natural magic in the air around him, and he let his avian side come to life bit by tiny bit. Tiny golden down feathers prickled at his hairline and down his neck, scattered across his cheeks, soft patterns racing down his spine. A few fanned out around his ears and he listened, the quiet breeze and distant chirping and nearby rustling of crickets and critters meeting him more clearly than before. He rolled his shoulders and bone and muscle shifted seamlessly, painlessly, beneath his shirt, the fabric seemingly unbothered as massive sunglow-dusted wings appeared at his back. He shook them out with the smallest of grimaces, momentarily distracted by some dust and misplaced feathers that were making him itch.

He’d have to have a preening session once this was over.

For now, though, Jimmy just focussed as best he could on the balance between his avian and human halves, letting them merge together to as perfect a point of equilibrium as he could manage. For a few long, quiet minutes, Jimmy just let everything hover at that balance. He let himself exist in silence as both for as long as he was patient enough to endure, and as long as the forest was willing to indulge him. This part was easier. Jimmy wasn’t the best at sitting still or meditating, never had been, but the weight of wings at his back and the tickle of down against his skin was a familiar comfort that felt more natural than his fully human form ever had. It was easy to melt into, like pouring just the right amount of water into a glass. It was a perfect fit.

Time seemed to still, to warp, seconds and minutes ticking by as the mix of magics whispered at the edge of Jimmy’s awareness, as he slowly focussed inward toward the point where his avian side resided.

…it was taking it a step further that was giving Jimmy trouble, was the thing.

He took a slow breath, letting his wings go lax and drape out across the grass behind him. His magic was still swirling just below the surface and he reached for it, drew upon it, let it soak into his skin and settle in his bones.

There was a pull, normally, when Jimmy wanted to shift fully. There was a tug in his gut and a sudden, small inward force and a feeling almost like a startled inward breath - and then he was suddenly a fraction of his size. Normally. Normally, it happened in an instant, so simple to grasp and even easier to maintain.

Right now, Jimmy was having trouble getting to that point. He could feel that tugging sensation lingering just out of reach, a tension just below his ribs, a surge of energy balancing on a precipice and barely threatening to tumble over the edge. He was close, closer to that tipping point than he’d been in over a year. And yet–

An itch cropped up at the base of his right wing, something between his feathers irritating him, making him grimace. He rolled his shoulders, trying to dissipate it without digging through the down to find what was bothering him. It didn’t do much.

Jimmy sighed and scrunched up his nose in discomfort. Yeah, he was definitely preening later, probably before bed if he had the energy. He couldn’t fathom how his wings had become so unkempt. So…neglected.

…no, that was a lie. He knew. He knew full well that he had become lax in taking care of himself after he had left the cottage. He knew that Grian and Martyn - even Impulse and Mumbo - had needed to remind him to eat sometimes during the first few weeks with them, and even after that–

No. No, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that. He was meant to be focusing on…on…

…crap.

The swirling haze of flowing magic had begun dissipating drastically once Jimmy’s thoughts had strayed, and at this point he knew it would be exhausting to return to the level of concentration he was at before. With a heavy sigh, Jimmy let his eyes flutter open and he flopped backward against the grass. He ground the heels of his palms against his eyes hard enough for stars to pop up in the darkness behind his eyelids and he huffed in mild annoyance.

He’d always struggled with meditation, and any magical practices that required it. His mind was just too…busy, too distractible, and something always inevitably drew his attention away from what he was meant to be focussing on. At least in this instance his distraction was well-warranted. Unpreened and itchy wings were a nightmare and impossible to ignore no matter how well-trained one’s patience was.

Maybe he ought to try again tomorrow once he’d dealt with whatever grit was causing him so much irritation.

It wouldn’t be too hard for Jimmy to find the clearing again. Even if he hadn’t had a fairly good sense of direction thanks to his avian nature, the lingering residual tendrils of magical energy his attunement had left behind were recognizable. It was his magic, after all. He’d know it anywhere. The forest would lead him here again.

The sun was beginning to dip low behind the treeline now, casting an orange tinge across the sky, and when Jimmy sat up to grab for his satchel he could see the way the shadows had already begun to stretch under the canopy of the trees. The glimmer of magic still fading from his skin illuminated the nearby grass, a low but noticeable light that further cemented the fact that it was getting late.

It wasn’t as if Jimmy had anywhere to be, but any forest this dense could become a danger when one was alone in the middle of the night, magical abilities or not. He cast a stray glance around as he shoved his feet back into his sneakers. He hadn’t exactly expected to see anyone, so finding his surroundings quiet and empty wasn’t much of a surprise…but something about it left him feeling wary. The few stray downy feathers at the nape of his neck tickled from a passing breeze, making him shiver, and a quiet anxiety began to pool in his gut.

Maybe he ought to fly back to the inn. He should have enough time to walk back from here - the nearby town wasn’t too far away, and he would probably arrive just before nightfall if he left immediately - but he wasn’t sure he felt as confident in that method of travel now as he had been when he’d left the inn that morning. Jimmy finished tugging on his overshirt - letting his wings phase through with practiced ease - and stood slowly, his satchel strap clutched tightly in one hand.

…yeah. Yeah, maybe he’d fly, just in case.

He tossed the bag’s strap across his body, rolling his shoulders and flexing his wings. He shook them out once, twice, still irked by the itchiness beneath his feathers…but he’d just have to deal with it later. His paranoia was increasing with every second, and he’d rather get out of here before–

Jimmy turned to prepare for a takeoff and went stiff as a statue, coming face to horrifying face with a massive beast. It was staring at him from across the clearing, its beady eyes fixed on him with an intelligent sort of focus that made Jimmy’s skin crawl. The creature was a giant, hulking thing, reminding him of a rather hairy bull but with a wider snout and a stockier build. It was a dark, brownish-gray and a pair of ivory-colored horns curved out from its skull…and those things looked like a quick way to a very painful death. It took Jimmy an embarrassingly long time to remember what it was called - a ravager - and an even longer time to remember that he needed to breathe. He swallowed thickly and took a slow, shaking, measured breath. Right. Right, okay. Right. He took a slow step backward, then another. The ravager was tracking his every move, audible snorting huffs leaving it as it stared him down.

Jimmy could hear his own heart pounding in his ears, could hear the ravager’s breath, could hear his own shaking attempts at regulating his breathing. The eerie silence from before suddenly made much more sense now. If a beast of this size was in the vicinity, why would any creature be making noise that would draw its attention?

It still hadn’t moved yet, Jimmy noticed. He had been creeping ever closer to the trees behind him in an attempt to escape its piercing stare, and all the while it hadn’t moved. Jimmy wanted to count it as a blessing, a small bout of luck that he wasn’t about to take for granted. Maybe if he was quiet enough, maybe if he moved slowly enough, maybe if he just stayed calm, then the ravager would have no reason to run him down. So he stayed steady and he kept his wings pulled close and his breath carefully schooled.

…and then he tripped.

Jimmy went down in a whirlwind of feathers and limbs with a loud yelp and a chirp and an oof…and apparently, it was the sign the ravager had been waiting for, because within moments of him hitting the grass, it tossed its head and stomped at the ground and let out a deep, bellowing roar.

Jimmy scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, darting off between the trees and shoving off of trunks as he dodged them. He could feel the ravager’s footfalls pounding against the earth behind him, sending vibrations through the forest floor. All the while he let his eyes dart skyward as often as he dared, trying to spot a breach in the canopy where he might be able to take to the sky. For not the first time, he was cursing his inability to perform a full shift to his avian form. If he wasn’t such an incapable mage he could have gotten high above the trees before the beast behind him even reached him - if he was quick enough. But even then, he supposed his bag would have posed a problem anyway, because he wouldn’t dare to leave behind the books and potions and crystals that he had packed into his satchel for the trip.

And besides, even if he managed to use a spell to put his bag out of harm’s way, that “if” would have been enough to keep him grounded regardless of his ability to shift forms. If he was fast enough. If he had time to transform and get out of the way before the ravager trampled him into the ground.

If he could have shifted fully in the first place.

Jimmy gritted his teeth. Arguing over what-if’s in his head was a moot point when he wasn’t even capable of the most important part of the equation. He’d just have to find an opening and fly as he was when he had the chance.

Branches whipped past, some catching on his clothes, some leaving scratches against his skin, skirted shrubs and thorny flowers lashing at his ankles and a few vines threatening to trip him up.

Vines.

On an inspired whim and with a prayer to the heavens, Jimmy skirted a tree and slammed his palm against its trunk, focussing on his fading connection to the forest to fuel his spell. As his fingers separated from the bark a flurry of vines sprang forth, curling up from the ground around the roots of the tree and tangling through the undergrowth. He didn’t look back to see if it had helped, but he did hear the ravager let out a growling cry of some kind, and the thundering at his back faded with each new stride he took.

Jimmy’s eyes darted to the sky again, searching for an opening, any opening. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon–

When it seemed as though the monster behind him really had been lost in the foliage, Jimmy let himself slow. He cast a furtive glance behind him before collapsing sideways against the trunk of a massive gnarled oak. His chest heaved and he gulped down precious, precious oxygen, his lungs aching and his limbs threatening to give out. At his back, he let his wings hang limp to brush against the forest floor…but thank goodness running didn’t tend to wear them out too quickly, or he might not have felt up to flying home after the harrowing chase he’d just barely managed to escape from.

“Oh gosh…” Jimmy choked out, his legs shaking. He dragged both hands back through his now-sweaty hair and let out a distressed trill, a chirp catching in his throat as he slid down the trunk to sit on a massive twisted root protruding from the soil. His fingers tangled tightly in the blond strands. “Ohhh my gosh…oh my gods…”

A ravager. A ravager. What was a ravager even doing in this forest? Jimmy might not be quite as much of an expert on magical beasts as Impulse was, but he was fairly certain they were more likely to appear in colder climates. They were built for the snow. The forest Jimmy had chosen for his attunement was rarely even chilly this time of year, let alone prone to snow or ice. Where in the world had–

A low rumbling growl and a sudden thundering sound broke through Jimmy’s mind a little too late, and by the time his head was snapping up - by the time he was scrambling to his feet - the ravager he thought he’d managed to evade was already upon him. It rammed him backward, thoroughly winding him, pinning him to the massive trunk of the gnarled oak he’d been using as a resting place, its head bowed to be on his level and its horns caging him in on either side. The sound of shattering glass rent the air, the distinct sound of one of the potion bottles in his satchel breaking. Jimmy didn’t even have words anymore, the panicked sounds leaving him reduced to twittering avian screeches and wheezing, shrill, desperate chirps. He shoved at the beast’s snout frantically, feebly, trying and failing to push it away. Its huffed, snarling breath was hot and overwhelming. It made it harder to breathe, harder than it already was with the way he was being crushed against the tree trunk and the way he was panicking too much to catch his breath.

The ravager was relentless too, because though its horns against the tree kept it at just enough of a distance to leave Jimmy some minute level of safety, it refused to let that keep it from its prey. (Because Jimmy was prey right now, wasn’t he? He certainly felt like it.) It jerked its head sharply, carving into the bark, closing that gap bit by bit with each jolting movement.

A spell, a spell - he couldn’t think of a spell. Jimmy’s thoughts were whirling desperately, but nothing was sticking, nothing - nothing he could–

“G-Glacius!” he stammered, choking out the first thing that came to mind, and he shivered as a swath of freezing blue ice magic was dispelled from his fingertips. But it wasn’t strong. It was a wisp of a thing, magic that didn’t come naturally to Jimmy. It did very little to dissuade the ravager. The creature did flinch back though, for a moment, and for a fraction of a fraction of a second Jimmy was tempted to make a break for it. There was a gap to his left, a possible escape - but was there even time?

Before he had a chance to decide, the ravager had let out a furious roar and charged forward again, and Jimmy flinched, and his wings jerked, and–

Jimmy let out a shrill, pained avian screech when one of the beast’s horns slammed against his left wing and pinned it to the tree, something snapping and an unbearable pain blinding him. He keened and his wing jerked frantically where it was trapped, the sharp, hot agony that radiated from the injury making the world spin on its axis. Shit. Shit. Fu–

A sharp whistle pierced the air, though Jimmy wasn’t quite aware enough to even bother trying to figure out where it had come from. It repeated, a warbling lilt to it this time, and - much to Jimmy’s utter disbelief - the ravager actually retreated. It stomped backward, still huffing and rearing its head occasionally, but it gave Jimmy just enough space to slump against the tree. He gulped down desperate breaths, his chest heaving, and a moment later his legs - shaking and exhausted - gave out below him. He crumpled, one hand scrabbling at the bark behind him for support. The wing that the ravager had injured absolutely screamed as it shifted to the ground and Jimmy let out a sharp, choked chirp, wheezing twitters coinciding with each breath he took.

Gods that hurt. It was - it felt - he curled in on himself, his uninjured wing coming up to shield him from the world, the rest of him too fuzzy to focus on much else besides the pain to his left and the slowly growing awareness of a voice somewhere to his right.

“...whoa, whoa - hey there, big guy. C’mon - gahk! NO! No, hold. Hold it, skippy. Stay still…that’s it–” There was a shifting of soft material and the jingle of metal, maybe keys or chains. A soft snort arose from the ravager, one that made Jimmy flinch. “–easy. Easy. Just…wait…a second - hah!” Another jingle, then the voice let out a victorious laugh. “HAH! Gotcha! Now - ngh - now c’mere, get away from that thing…”

More chinking - definitely chains - then a disgruntled huff from the ravager, some grumbling from the voice. The heavy footfalls of the beast retreated from where Jimmy was still hiding away in the safety of his feathers and he shivered. He clutched at the strap of the bag still slung across his chest, his focus honing in on the nearby sounds, not quite ready to look at his ruined wing. There was the drag of metal on wood, more chinking and jingling, then the voice he’d been hearing sighed.

“What’d you catch now?” he muttered, his much more human-sounding footsteps a balm on Jimmy’s nerves. “What poor critter am I gonna have to patch up, huh? …geez, it’s a big fella this time…”

The voice had come close, so close, and Jimmy flinched back when he felt a gloved hand brush at his feathers.

“Shhh, sorry,” the stranger murmured quietly. “Sorry bud. I’m not gonna hurt you. Okay? I just wanna help…”

It was at this point that Jimmy slowly lowered his wing, peering out over shivering golden feathers to try and get a look at whoever had saved him. The guy was a bit shorter than Jimmy, or at least he seemed to be at this angle, with a little less height and a bit more bulk to him than what Jimmy had. His skin was lightly tanned and his black leather hide gloves and vest and boots made Jimmy think he must spend a lot of time outdoors. The man was also clearly inhuman - even without his pointed ears or the sight of his tuft-ended tail, his red irises and sclera would have been more than enough proof of that. There was a glowing tinge to his blond hair as well that seemed to illuminate the air around him with a low, subtle, warm incandescence, the dim light of the setting sun making it more noticeable than it would have been in broad daylight.

He also looked slightly stunned, his eyes widening as Jimmy appeared from behind his wing and a gobsmacked expression overtaking his face.

“Wha- oh! Hi! Wow, okay, human. Ish. Human-ish. A person. You’re a person. Yup. Uh–” His eyes darted over Jimmy’s form, what little of it was visible at the moment, and he cleared his throat. “How - How badly did he hurt you?”

Jimmy grimaced at the question. He tried, briefly, to ease himself into a more upright position to check the damage, but with how harshly it sent a shock of sharp pain through his left wing and his chest, it was an attempt that only ended with the air being punched from his lungs and him collapsing roughly against the tree trunk again. He let out an avian hiss and a shrill chirp and a whimpered curse, and the stranger jolted forward to grab his shoulders and help hold him steady against the tree.

“Whoa, whoa!” the guy said quickly, anxiously. “Let’s - how about we put a pin in the standing-up action for a hot second. Okay? Just - crap. Uh–”

Jimmy eased his eyes open again - when had he closed them? - to squint, wincing, at the face hovering above his. There was a worried crease in the man’s brow and a twitch in one of his pointed ears, and every so often small licking flames came to life in his hair or around the tiny ember-colored sticks hovering around his head that Jimmy somehow hadn’t noticed before now.

He felt like there was a word for those, wasn’t there? A name he couldn’t quite remember right now…

“...are you with me, man?” the guy was prompting him now, worry coming to life in his expression. “What’s your name?”

Jimmy took a slow breath to ensure his chest would be willing to cooperate before attempting to answer.

“Jimmy,” he said finally, the word coming out a bit unsteadily. “Name’s Jimmy.”

The guy’s worried frown curled into a half-smile.

“Well hey there Jimmy,” he murmured. “I’m Tango. D’you know where you are?”

Jimmy managed a jerky sort of nod and he clutched at the bag strap across his chest with the hand that wasn’t digging fingers into the soil and moss beneath him.

“F…Forest–” He sucked in a sharp breath when the slightest of movements made some part of his injured wing shift, jostling something that obviously didn’t want to be jostled. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Con - ngh - Concordia Forest.”

“Good. Good.” Tango nodded. “Great. Uh–” He squeezed Jimmy’s shoulders slightly, and an inhuman warmth sank through Jimmy’s shirt layers to the skin below. It was a balm, a comfort, a small spot of cozy stability that helped him settle some of the tension in his aching shoulders. He let out a soft breath and did his best to stay still, like Tango had suggested.

“How badly did the big guy hurt you?” Tango asked again, and Jimmy grimaced.

“I…think my wing might be broken?” he offered weakly, sheepishly, and Tango’s expression took on a guilt-ridden unease, his pointed ears pinning back against his head and the glowing sticks around his head dimming.

“Crap. Crap, I’m so sorry, I didn’t - that’s my fault, it really is. Man, if I’d just–”

“What?” Jimmy blinked up at him, confused. “How’s that your fault? You saved me, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah,” Tango drawled with a wince, “but I also - like–” His tail lashed at the air behind him and he jerked his head back over his shoulder. “That’s my ravager.”

What.

Jimmy gaped at him, waiting for Tango to grin and say he was joking…but the man remained as serious as before.

“You - why?” he said, perplexed. “Why do you have a ravager? Why would you want a ravager?”

Tango shrugged lopsidedly.

“I handle magical creatures and monsters for a living,” he said. “Ravagers - I mean they aren’t that bad–”

“Not that bad,” Jimmy repeated weakly. He let out a whimpering laugh and let his head thunk back against the tree. “It slammed me against a tree, but ravagers are not that bad.”

“Well, yeah. It’s just about learning how to communicate. They can be super cuddly once you know how to handle ‘em–”

“Cuddly, he says–”

“They can be!” Tango insisted. “They’re like - ya know - big dumb cows who don’t know their own strength!”

Jimmy let out a birdlike twitter of protest.

“Well your big dumb cow just broke my wing!”

Tango flinched, going immediately silent and remorseful, his ears pinning back again and his tail going still behind him. His shoulders hunched up to his ears and his eyes drifted over to the feathered limb that wasn’t quite sitting at the right angle.

“...he did,” he agreed softly. “You’re right.” Tango eyed Jimmy’s broken wing for a moment or two longer before speaking again. “I’ve uh - I’ve never worked with bird hybrids before, but I’ve helped magical creatures with feathers ‘n’ wings. I bet I could whip up a good old-fashioned splint for you for now, if you want?”

Jimmy blinked at him. Ah…so he thought Jimmy was just a hybrid. In truth, in his current form, that was close to true. The wings, the feathered features, the avian calls. Except for his current lack of talons, he supposed he could pass for an ordinary avian to someone who didn’t know many avian hybrids themselves.

Seeing as he couldn’t exactly shift again until his wing was healed, he was as good as a hybrid for the time being for as long as it took for his injuries to mend.

“A splint might not be necessary,” he murmured thoughtfully. The hand still clutching at his bag’s strap slipped down the leather, groping at the satchel that was lumped on the ground next to him. “I brought some potions, just in case I–” His hand met wet fabric and Jimmy’s heart sank. The bottle. The glass he’d heard shatter in the midst of the ravager’s attack. The potion bottle.

He scrambled to open his pack, flipping back the flap and digging past the surface items until he found - ah. Glass. Broken glass, more than he’d anticipated, the pieces chinking against each other as Jimmy shifted the bag. It hadn’t been just one bottle that had been broken in the fight, but multiple, all but one not managing to survive the encounter. And the one that did survive - well. Unless Tango turned out to be a not-so-friendly stranger, fire resistance wasn’t going to do Jimmy much good right now.

Jimmy grimaced and let out a frustrated huff, one hand dropping from his bag to punch at the moss bed below him. Of course. Of course his bad luck had reared its ugly head once again. He’d only just made those potions too, ingredients purchased not too long ago from a market he’d stumbled upon halfway to the village…the village and the inn he was no longer sure if he’d be able to return to tonight. What little money he’d scrounged up for the trip, all going to waste.

Tango let out a soft “oh” and Jimmy looked up to see him eyeing Jimmy’s bag with a dawning saddened understanding. He must have seen the damp stain in the half-darkness, or heard the pieces of glass.

“So, uh…splint?” Tango offered again, sheepish. “It won’t be anything fancy, but it’ll be functional. It’ll do the job.”

What could Jimmy say? It wasn’t like he had another option, and Tango did seem like the type to know his way around wings better than the average stranger. So he nodded, a weak but grateful smile coming to life on his face.

“If you think you know what you’re doing,” Jimmy said. He was only somewhat anxious at the prospect. “I don’t think I’ll get very far otherwise.”

Tango immediately brightened, his smile wide and eyes aglow in the ever-dimming light. He let go of Jimmy’s shoulders and sat back on his heels, quickly digging through the bag he’d brought with him with newfound enthusiasm. The sticks around his head - blaze rods, they reminded Jimmy of blaze rods - bobbed in the air.

“You’re in good hands!” Tango assured, setting aside a roll of bandages before darting off toward a nearby tree. “Like I said, I know wings. Not all wings, of course, but - hey, I’m a smart guy. I can - ya know - apply my existing knowledge to the problem, or whatever they call it.”

He stood on his toes to reach a thin, low-hanging branch, his tail curling out for balance as he drew a short blade from a sheath at his waist. He hacked at the branch and broke it free, stumbling back a step from the force of his former handhold being cut loose.

By now, the hour of the day was causing Tango’s form to be bathed in shadow, little more than his silhouette half-lit by the moonlight reaching Jimmy’s eyes. The subtle glow around the man’s head only helped fractionally. From this distance Jimmy could see him moving quickly but cautiously around the clearing, occasionally stumbling and shooting out his hand, as if he wasn’t quite trusting of his surroundings. He’d managed to grab a few branches by now and had come to a sort of standstill on the far side of the clearing, his head cocked to the side and one ear perked up and his glowing eyes squinting through the dark.

Jimmy frowned, curious and a little concerned. Was there something lurking nearby that Jimmy couldn’t hear, even with his avian senses?

“Tango?” he spoke up, and Tango snapped his head toward him, immediately starting in his direction. Jimmy shifted anxiously, trying to sit up a little taller to see the treeline better. “Was there something out there, or - ah!”

He hissed, pain shooting up his wing, across his shoulder blade, through the muscles on the left half of his upper body. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten, foolishly, that he really shouldn’t be moving at all lest he worsen his injuries. Jimmy crumpled shakily back against the gnarled oak that still stood as his main form of support, his eyes squeezed shut and his breath coming out sharp and gasping. It was awful. Wings were sensitive as it was, and this - he grimaced and whimpered, a pitiful wheezing chirp escaping him - this was horrible. For all the various careless injuries Jimmy had managed to sustain over the years, this had to be the worst of them.

Jimmy was only vaguely aware of movement nearby, of footsteps and the shuffling of clothing and the shift of branches and warmth. There was a warmth in the air, and Jimmy swallowed back a whine and forced his eyes open again to blink blearily at who he could only assume was Tango returning with his collection of branches.

The space was brighter than before. There was a flicker of firelight coming from somewhere nearby, and the soft shifting light illuminated Tango’s face in a warm glow. He was watching Jimmy worriedly, one hand outstretched - though he hadn’t quite closed the gap to touch Jimmy’s shoulder the way he had earlier.

“You okay?” Tango asked, his brow furrowed, and Jimmy groaned.

“No.”

Tango stifled a snorting laugh, coughed, and did a very poor job of schooling his features.

“Eh - right. Yeah. Stupid question.” He shifted from a crouch to a kneel, reaching for the deposited pile of branches he’d scavenged. He picked them up one by one and ran his gloved hands down them, quickly snapping off any stray leaves and twigs before moving on to the next. “...I know you just met me, so you probably don’t trust me yet, but - uh.” He smiled weakly. “It might be a good idea for you to hunker down at my campsite for the night. If you want. I’ve got food, and blankets, and a fire…” He shrugged lopsidedly. “It ain’t anything fancy, but it’s safer ‘n out here, I bet. I don’t have much in the way of healing supplies, but I might have a potion to help with the pain.”

Tango finished off the last of the branches and brushed his gloves off on his pants, tugging at the fingers one by one to start taking them off completely. He tossed one aside on his bag and started in on the other, meeting Jimmy’s eyes and chuckling sheepishly.

“It’s my fault you’re not gonna be flying home anytime soon. Giving you a safe place to sleep tonight is the least I can do.”

Jimmy gaped at him, a warm gratitude arising unbidden in his chest. He let out a breath, slightly shaky from the still-lingering pain from his wing, and watched as Tango began rolling up his sleeves, his red eyes occasionally flicking back to check on Jimmy.

“...are you sure?” he asked weakly, surprised that a stranger would be so willing to offer such a thing to someone he’d just met. True, Tango seemed friendlier than most, but all the same - it was a pleasant surprise to be sure. He took a slow, strained breath “You don’t know me either. I could be a…a thief, or something, for all you know.”

Tango snorted, amused, and shook his head.

“You?” He laughed softly, a warm yet hoarse sort of sound. His eyes crinkled at the corners with his grin. “Nah. I know thieves. You don’t give me that vibe.”

“You know thieves?” Jimmy repeated. “Are you a thief?”

At that, Tango’s laughter became fuller, brighter, amusement making his shoulders shake as he fussed with the bandage roll he’d pulled from his bag earlier.

“Oh heck no,” he denied. “I think I’d get caught immediately if I tried. I can handle critters no problem, but my sneakification skills could use some work.” He shrugged and his grin grew crooked. “Or that might just be the company I keep. My friends know me too well.”

Tango chuckled to himself, then after a moment his expression softened, something more genuine coming over his features. The blaze rod look-alikes hovered in the air, casting light over his smile.

“That offer still stands,” he said, his tone softer, warmer. “My campsite’s not far. It’s safer than trying to walk home in the forest in the dark.”

Jimmy couldn’t deny that Tango had a point. And really, what reason had he been given to distrust Tango thus far? If the man tried anything, Jimmy had some spells under his belt that could protect him, weak magic or not. But even as that thought crossed his mind, Jimmy doubted he’d even need them. Tango was the kind of person who was ready and willing to help injured animals no matter the situation, and had been even more willing to help Jimmy once he realized he was more than just a creature in the woods. He had a kind heart to him.

Jimmy could trust him, at least for one night.

“Okay,” he murmured, nodding jerkily. “Yeah, that - yes. Thank you.”

Tango brightened and nodded.

“Happy to help.” Then he glanced toward Jimmy’s wing, his face becoming shadowed with worry and his eyes growing tense and thoughtful. He let out a slow, measured breath and shifted closer, mindful of where he was crouching and careful of the feathers draped over the ground. “I’m gonna have to touch your wing, okay? It’s not gonna be pleasant, but I’ve gotta figure out what’s broken.”

Almost immediately, Jimmy choked on his breath and he felt his face go very warm.

…oh. Oh, right. Right. Okay. His wing. Tango had to - okay. Okay.

“Okay,” Jimmy murmured weakly, even though most of him was insisting that it very much was not. Avian familiars and avian hybrids had their differences, but many cultural practices carried over between the two. Wings were sacred for one, protected, and the idea of allowing a perfect stranger to have his hands on Jimmy’s was - well. He swallowed thickly and took a slow breath, trying not to tense up too much.

It was necessary, he knew that. This wasn’t the same as a casual uninvited touch. His wing was broken, and Tango was just trying to help fix it. That was all. It was an emergency situation, an exception to the rule. Jimmy would just have to give this one a pass. Just this once. He could forgive himself for that, surely.

Tango nodded once, smiling apologetically, and Jimmy had to clench his jaw and look away when Tango reached out toward his broken wing.

Jimmy anticipated pain. He anticipated the same sharp agony that had overtaken him the last two times he had tried to move on his own…but that wasn’t quite what happened. Gentle fingers brushed against his uppermost feathers, following the joints and bones, prodding softly at points here and there and feeling along the edge of the limb for anything that felt out of place. But it was soft. It was delicate and careful, a practiced sort of gentleness that Jimmy could only assume came from years of handling other injured creatures, years of tending to animals that couldn’t communicate enough to tell him when he was about to hurt them.

For all of Tango’s gentleness though, he couldn’t avoid the pain forever. A dull ache started up the closer Tango got to the point of injury, and Jimmy hissed when Tango’s hands brushed over a particularly painful spot just this side of the wrist joint…but the moment he did Tango was muttering murmured apologies and pulling away.

Jimmy’s wheezing chirps were muffled against the fist he pressed to his mouth. It took everything he had not to jerk away, his shoulders pressed firmly against the tree behind him in an attempt to keep himself still. There was a knot on the trunk digging into his spine that was decidedly uncomfortable, but seeing as moving had been a much worse experience, Jimmy would take the discomfort over the pain any day of the week. It was a few more quiet, strained seconds before Jimmy felt hands on his wing again, and after a moment or two of much more painful prodding - and Jimmy stifling more pained sounds - Tango sat back with a sigh.

“Fractured radius, I think,” he said, and Jimmy heard him move slightly, the sound of shuffling sticks meeting his ears. “Maybe a partial fracture on the ulna? Hard to tell, and I don’t really wanna go poking too much when I’m not really an expert on birds.”

“A-Avians,” Jimmy corrected weakly, his eyes still closed and his head resting back against the oak tree. “Different.”

“Right. Yeah, ‘course. Avians. Got it.”

Jimmy pried one weary eye open to see Tango eyeing his wing calculatingly, a single branch held aloft and one sharp finger scraping a mark into the bark. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully before making a second line, a deeper one, an inch or so along from the first. That seemed to satisfy him because he nodded to himself and dug out his knife, sawing away at the mark he’d made. Shortening it maybe? Jimmy could only assume.

“...do you need my help with anything?” he asked in a murmur, and Tango glanced in his direction with a small smile. He shrugged.

“Not really, man,” he said. “You’ll have to sit up at some point, and you might wanna get your shirt off so I can wrap stuff properly. But I can handle the rest no problem.”

Jimmy blanched at the prospect of having to move again (ignoring, for the moment, that he’d have to do so eventually anyway when he followed Tango back to his camp), but he forced a jerky nod all the same.

He could do this. Definitely.

  Or perhaps, he conceded once Tango got started, it was less of a “definitely” and more of “maybe”. Tango hadn’t even done much yet and Jimmy was already biting down hard on the strap of his satchel like Tango had suggested, sweat beading at his brow and his other wing shaking against his back since it wasn’t being held still by Tango’s hands. Sitting up had been an ordeal on his own, helped somewhat by Tango making sure his injured wing remained stable, and now - everything was just aching. He had his arms around his knees with his fingers digging into the denim of his jeans, and everything just hurt. His back muscles were pissed, his chest felt tight, and the area around the actual break–

“Breathe in for me?” Tango muttered, and Jimmy only had a moment or two to comply before something shifted beneath Tango’s hands and pain exploded like fire beneath his feathers, a strangled sob and a pained avian screech escaping past the leather clenched between his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Tango said quickly, already rushing to collect one of the prepared branches from his lap. “I’m sorry man, I’m sorry, it sucks. I know. But that’s the worst of it.”

That, despite Jimmy being skeptical to believe it, turned out to be true. While Jimmy buried choked-off twitters and whines against his knees, Tango made quick work of bandaging his wing, his hands as careful as ever now that the bone had been set. Jimmy was only barely aware of what was being done, too focused on not focusing on the pain. By the time Tango’s voice broke through to him again his wing had been carefully folded into a natural position against his back, bandages and a few wrapped branches helping to hold it that way.

“...Jimmy? Buddy? You with me?”

Jimmy shifted his head against his arms and turned slightly to peer out at Tango, who was much closer than he had been a minute ago. He had already been close, of course, but now that he was carefully holding Jimmy’s bandaged wing in place against his back, Jimmy could feel the netherlike warmth radiating off of him from his proximity. It was comforting, cozy, especially in comparison to the ache throbbing through his back.

“Jimmy? ”

Jimmy finally registered Tango’s worried expression and he nodded, small and jerky, against his arms.

“M’ here.”

“Hey. Hey, man. D’you think you can sit up a bit? I’ve gotta wrap this around your chest to keep everything from moving.”

Oh. Right. Yeah. Okay.

It took him a moment to get his limbs to comply, but after a few slow breaths and a quiet, wheezing chirp, Jimmy did as he was told. He tugged the satchel strap out of his mouth and warily uncurled himself from his tense position. It was a good sign when he didn’t feel any burning agony in the process. He raised his arms somewhat so Tango could get beneath them, and when Tango finally sat back and eyed his handiwork, Jimmy could confidently say he felt a bit more stable than he’d been before. Despite the ever-lingering ache from his injury and the mild discomfort of a few feathers being ruffled beneath their bandages, his wing no longer screamed when he moved. It was the first time since being attacked by that ravager that he actually felt like he could get back on his feet.

Tango hovered beside him for a few long, quiet moments, eyeing him with a notable amount of concern.

“...how’s it feel?” he asked, and Jimmy cautiously rolled his shoulders. He took a few deep breaths, the bandages around his chest adding just a little bit of resistance, and he flexed his right wing just to be sure - then he nodded.

“Better,” he landed on, exhaustion in his words. “Good.”

Tension rolled off of Tango’s shoulders at that, a notable sigh of relief making his chest rise and fall. He dragged a hand over his face and used the other to grope out blindly toward his discarded bag.

“Thank the void.” He sat back on his feet and shoved his now-dwindled roll of bandages away where it belonged, swapping it for his gloves and tugging them on one after the other. “I’m not a doctor. I’ve just picked up a lot o’ stuff in my line of work. At worst, I was worried I’d make it too tight and you’d just end up hurtin’ all over again, but–” He shrugged and tossed a lopsided smile in Jimmy’s direction. “Looks like I was worried for nothing, huh?”

Jimmy, exhausted as he was, couldn’t do much more than manage a soft smile in return. But it was something. He took a moment to carefully put his satchel back over his shoulder, the strap falling neatly between his wings and managing to not irritate his injured one, much to his relief. He rolled his shoulders again, wincing slightly at the tiny spark of pain it caused…but it was minimal. It was a relief.

A gloved hand entered his line of vision and he raised his eyes, following it up to its owner. To Tango. Tango, who was grinning softly in the low firelight and already on his feet.

“Let’s get you back to camp, huh?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The journey through the trees to Tango’s campsite was a quiet one, much calmer than the chaos that had occurred back in the clearing. Tango had insisted on making sure Jimmy was okay to walk on his own before they started out into the forest - which was kind of him to do, but unnecessary really. He was a little lightheaded and the ache in his back slowed his pace slightly, but he was capable enough to manage on his own.

(All the same, Jimmy couldn’t remember the last time someone had actively and determinedly put Jimmy’s needs ahead of their own. It left his chest feeling warm and aching all at once, an odd combination that he decided not to think too much on.)

Much to Jimmy’s unspoken dismay, the trip back also involved Tango herding his ravager back along with them, nothing but the chain on its neck and Tango’s supposed strength keeping it tethered. Jimmy had, at first, been more than a little wary of the beast - rightfully so - and even now being in such close proximity to the thing left him feeling horribly on edge. But it hadn’t so much as looked in his direction more than once or twice since they’d started on their path. It seemed entirely disinterested in him, and Jimmy wasn’t sure if that was Tango’s doing or if it had simply lost interest in Jimmy of its own accord.

He wasn’t sure what had caused it to want to chase him down earlier. He was only glad Tango was there to stop it if it decided to do so again.

According to Tango, it would only be a ten minute walk back to where he’d set up camp. It wasn’t a long journey by any means, but if it had been any longer Jimmy was sure he would’ve had to take a break to rest. It was made easier as well by the conversation being traded between himself and his savior, stories Tango was telling of the troublesome ravager he’d had to save Jimmy from in the first place. This was, apparently, not the first time it had escaped from him.

“It doesn’t happen as much anymore,” he was explaining as he helped Jimmy over a fallen tree, mindful of his bandaged wing as he did so. “The guy’s not fully grown so he’s just a bit feistier than his parents. The rest of ‘em listen to me pretty well, but skippy over here is a stubborn one.” He chuckled, tossing an amused and annoyed look back over his shoulder, eyeing the ravager behind them with the same look one would give an adorable yet misbehaving puppy. “Downright menace, I tell ya - HEY! No! Watch the light!”

Jimmy turned back to see Tango bopping the ravager on its large snout, flicking its nose once and making it snort at him. Tango made some kind of twirling hand movement through the air and the light source that had been illuminating their way thus far moved, gravitating towards Tango’s palm from wherever it had been hovering, and–

Jimmy blinked owlishly, watching as Tango’s suddenly-gloveless hand was engulfed in flames. He eyed the brilliant glow curiously, the energy coming off of it making the edges of his awareness tingle slightly. That…that was magic. That was witch’s magic. Or - well, it felt close to it, traces of something foreign making it feel just slightly distinguished from what Jimmy was used to, but - all the same. His eyes drifted past the fire to Tango, who had turned to him amidst his scolding and whose expression softened into a sheepish little smile, and Jimmy found himself turning thoughtful.

Tango was a witch.

Tango was a witch, but back in the clearing, he had called Jimmy an avian hybrid instead of a familiar.

Did Tango not know what a familiar’s magic felt like, or what a familiar was? Tango was some species of hybrid that Jimmy wasn’t yet acquainted with, but the red eyes and sharp teeth and his seeming penchant for flames had already given Jimmy the impression that Tango was from the nether or something. The glowing sticks encircling his head reminded Jimmy so strongly of blaze rods that he was beginning to wonder if that’s what they were. The nether was a different dimension entirely. Did witches work differently there? Did magic work differently there? Is that why this magic felt a hair’s breadth away from what Jimmy was used to…?

Or maybe Tango hadn’t wanted to call out what Jimmy was so plainly. It wasn’t as if all witches who openly recognized a familiar for what they were did it with kind intent. (Memories of what had happened with the Watcher Coven were proof enough of that.) Maybe this was Tango trying to prove himself a friendly stranger. Maybe–

“You alright there Jimbo?”

“Have you been using flames this whole time?” The question left him without much thought, his own curiosity getting the best of him, and Tango blinked. “Even back in the clearing, just before sundown…there was light. And I didn’t even think about it.”

Tango chuckled sheepishly and glanced at the flames in his hand. He shrugged and seemed to curl in around the fire.

“Well…yeah. I just can’t, uh. I just can’t see too well in the dark,” he said, his ears pressed halfway back against his head. “Like, I really can’t, so I need light. And fire’s easy.” There was a kind of uneasy silence that passed between them, though for the life of him Jimmy couldn’t fathom why. Tango shifted awkwardly, his blaze rods dimming. “...I can control it, if that’s what you’re worried about. No burnification happening here.”

Jimmy blinked at him, processing the words, and - oh. Oh. Oh, no, he–

“No, nonono, you’re fine!” he assured quickly, his hands placating. “No, sorry, that’s not - I didn’t–” He cut himself off before he had a chance to put his foot in his mouth and he laughed weakly, flustered and sheepish. “Oh my gosh, I’m so oblivious. I didn’t notice, is all. This whole time and I didn’t even notice you’d made fire.”

Tango seemed to open up a bit, his head cocking to the side and his uneasy smile turning more genuine.

“You don’t mind?”

Jimmy snorted out a giggle.

“Do I - no, of course not!” He’d be hypocritical if he did, being a mage himself. “I spent ages with someone who had strong ice magic. Fire’s just another element, innit?”

That seemed to be what Tango was hoping to hear because the relief that swept through him was palpable, his expression glowing and his grin wide and bright. He huffed out a half chuckle and nodded, tossing the flames upward again so they could light the way once more.

“Yeah,” he agreed, falling into step beside Jimmy again, the ravager following not far behind. His voice was low and warm, a little bit soft in a way Jimmy couldn’t quite name. “Yeah. Just another element.”

Something had lightened between them. It wasn’t significant, not all too palpable, but there was a level of ease to their conversations that hadn’t been there before. Familiarity, maybe, or…something. Something else. It was nice, whatever it was. Friendly and comfortable, something Jimmy got the feeling they’d both been needing for a while.

Tango was easy to get along with. They weren’t even talking about anything important, just - talking. Just being friendly. And it was cozy. Cozy, yeah, that was a good word for it. It was cozy and it was comfortable, and easy.

Their friendly chatter carried them all the way back to Tango’s campsite, at which point Jimmy came to an abrupt halt and couldn’t help but stare.

He had known Tango worked with magical creatures. He’d known this, and he’d seen the ravager he was herding, and he’d heard Tango say something about its parents and “the rest”. But despite all that he somehow he hadn’t quite put two and two together, and he now found himself staring at an entire herd of ravagers of varying sizes, most of them - that Jimmy could see - tethered to nearby trees with chains that were near identical to the one Tango had been toting all evening. There had to be half a dozen in all, though with how they were slowly shifting about, it was hard for Jimmy to count. All he knew was he was looking at more ravagers in one place right at that moment than all the ravagers he’d seen in his life before now put together.

Tango hadn’t been wrong in saying the one that had chased Jimmy down wasn’t fully grown. Two of the herd were larger than the rest, their statures even more intimidating than Jimmy’s attacker…and Jimmy’s breath caught at the mere idea of being cornered by one of them.

Tango seemed entirely unfazed by their size. He led the wayward miscreant back toward the rest of the herd with practiced ease, muttering more scolding berations as he went. He was greeted by the largest beast the moment he was close enough, its massive snout nosing at his hair and making him laugh.

“Yeah, hi, hello! I’m back, I’m back! Knock it off, will ya…?”

Despite his protests, Tango didn’t seem to mind its proximity one bit. He finished chaining up the runaway and turned around, patting a gloved hand against the muzzle of the big guy and chuckling with each huffed breath against his hair. A small smile began to grow, unbidden, on Jimmy’s face, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders as he watched on.

Tango looked at home here. He looked so natural and at ease among his creatures, as though he understood what they were trying to say, as if he spoke their language. He wasn’t even a little bit scared, not like Jimmy would be in his shoes. Another ravager ambled up to him, this one much much smaller, its small-horned head butting up against Tango’s legs and nearly knocking him over. As it stood, Tango barely managed to stay standing, and the look on his face had Jimmy biting back a laugh.

Tango’s eyes raised to meet his. There was a sparkle to them, a joy in them and a crinkle at their corners, and Jimmy’s grin only brightened at the sight.

Then Tango was waving him over.

Oh, gosh. Okay then. He…he could trust Tango. Right? The man was perhaps a bit mad to be herding ravagers of all things by himself, but he obviously knew what he was doing. And after all the kindness he’d shown Jimmy tonight, he wouldn’t steer him wrong.

Jimmy took a few tentative steps forward, ever mindful of the large beasts that were meandering in that corner of the campsite’s clearing. He wasn’t sure if he could trust them. Tango may have known how to communicate with them, but Jimmy surely didn’t, and something he had done earlier must have told the ravager he’d met that he was worth chasing. He kept his wing tucked close to his back, his steps slow and unsure. The grip on his satchel strap tightened incrementally whenever one of them snorted or huffed a little too loudly. But then he was all of eight feet away from Tango and Tango was detangling himself from the rest of the herd.

“Here, c’mere!” Tango grabbed him by the hand and tugged him forward, not even questioning it when Jimmy ended up half-tucking himself behind the other man’s body like it was a shield. “You’ll like this little guy, I promise. He’s a bit shy so we’re gonna go slow.”

Shy…?

Jimmy frowned at Tango, confused, but then he looked to where Tango was leading him. There, in the shadows of one of the larger trees at the edge of the clearing, was perhaps the smallest of the herd. He was tucked close to one of the bigger ravagers and watching Tango and Jimmy warily, taking a step back the moment they grew too close. It was then that Tango came to a stop, his tail dancing lazily behind him and a soft smile on his face.

“Here,” Tango murmured, tugging on Jimmy’s hand again. He maneuvered him around until his hand was outstretched, palm toward the tiny creature…and then he let go. He took a step back so he was just behind Jimmy’s right wing, so Jimmy was the one in front, and - oh. Oh no. Oh, Jimmy didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit–

“Relax,” Tango murmured, his voice low and close to Jimmy’s ear. “He’s more scared of you than you are of him. Just breathe, okay? C’mon man, you’ve got this. It’s just a baby.”

Just a baby. Just a baby, right. Okay. Yeah. He could - yeah.

Jimmy swallowed past the anxious lump in his throat and took a slow breath, just like Tango had told him. He stayed still, his hand shaking slightly, and he waited. And waited. Was…was he meant to be doing anything else? Was he meant to get closer, or say something, or…?

After what felt like ages, Jimmy began to turn his head to ask Tango one of those very questions, and it was then that the little ravager finally moved. He shuffled forward, snuffing at the air with his head raised curiously, his green eyes watching Jimmy oh-so-carefully. His stubby feet padded unsteadily against the trampled grass as he went. Then - when he was close enough for Jimmy to feel his puffed breaths against his hand - it seemed to gain a bit more confidence. It jolted forward and Jimmy flinched back, unable to move far with Tango behind him, and he closed his eyes on impulse alone–

Something warm and soft met his palm. Very soft, softer than Jimmy had been anticipating. A quiet snickering laugh sounded near his ear.

“Open your eyes, buddy.”

Jimmy did as Tango asked and squinted one eye open, his face and shoulders tense all the while, and - oh. The ravager was nuzzling up against his hand, sniffing at the underside of his wrist curiously. His tail flicked back and forth behind him, and it was only now that the little guy was closer that Jimmy noticed the differing shade of gray in the younger ravager’s coat compared to the older ones. It was just a little lighter with white flecked through it and darker patches across his shoulders and back. And it was soft. Jimmy let out a breath of wonder and his expression softened, his eyes going slightly wide as he gently ran his hand up the ravager’s snout. The little thing leaned into it, snorting quietly and taking another step closer, seemingly chasing after what affection Jimmy was willing to give.

Something about him was familiar, and it didn’t take long for Jimmy to figure out why. He reminded Jimmy startling of a baby cow, of one of the calves he had taken care of at the cottage. Despite the stockier build and the broader shoulders and deeper vocal patterns, the mannerisms and the ways they communicated were so, so similar. It was like comparing a wild wolf to a domesticated dog. They were different, certainly, but at the end of the day they were part of the same family. Perhaps ravagers were just an offshoot of a different species that lived centuries ago, one that the modern cows and bulls also descended from. Maybe.

Wide, green, cowlike eyes blinked up at Jimmy, drooping little gray ears flicking a little bit alongside, and as Jimmy let his hand shift to gently stroke the side of the calf’s neck, he all but melted in the face of such a sweet creature. Forget what he’d said about ravagers earlier. This one was adorable, and he clearly wasn’t going to hurt anyone. He was just a little friend.

The young ravager let out a honking sort of mewl, one that had Tango chuckling over Jimmy’s shoulder. In truth, Jimmy had been so wrapped up in the small creature before him he’d forgotten Tango was still there.

“You’re not hungry,” Tango told the calf, his tone almost teasing. “I watched you eat. Quit begging, you little stinker.”

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asked, fighting back a smile as the ravager nosed at Jimmy’s satchel. He tugged it gently out of the way so no leaking potions could touch the little guy’s snout. “He’s very insistent, Tango.”

“No. Nuh-uh.” Tango reached around Jimmy to scritch around the nubs of the calf’s tiny horns, shaking his head just barely out of the corner of Jimmy’s eye. “I like giving ‘em treats, but I’ve only got so much to last the trip. He’ll do just fine until breakfast tomorrow.”

Jimmy finally dragged his attention away from the ravager to eye Tango curiously.

“Why’re you herding these guys anyway? You never said.”

“Well,” Tango stepped out from behind Jimmy to better give attention to the calf, rubbing the bridge of its snout with his knuckles and smiling lopsidedly when it let out another honking whine for food, “I think I said I work with magical creatures for a living. Beasts, critters, monsters, wayward pets - all of it. I prefer working with the big guys, but–” He shrugged and his smile was turned toward Jimmy instead. “–I like wee beasties just as much.”

The little ravager pressed its head more insistently against Tango’s stomach and Tango sighed dramatically, seemingly caving and digging through the bag still slung across his shoulder.

“Okay, okay!” he drawled, pulling a leather pouch free and holding it high above his head where the calf couldn’t reach it. “Hold your horses!”

It was another few moments of Tango juggling the pouch in one hand and holding back a wiggling baby ravager with the other, and it was only when Jimmy stepped in to distract the little guy with scratches around his horn nubs - just like he’d seen Tango do - that Tango finally had a chance to pour some of the pouch’s contents out onto his gloved palm. Jimmy barely caught a glance of something small and bright red before Tango offered it to the ravager, and the little snack vanished quickly amid small snuffs and tiny muted grunts. Berries, if he had to guess.

“Hungry little goofball,” Tango muttered, shaking his head in warm amusement. He let the ravager finish off his treat and wiped his hand on his pants, scratching the top of the little guy’s head one more time for good measure. “Anyway…like I said, I work with creatures.”

Jimmy perked up, tuning back into the story and watching as Tango stowed the little snack pouch away. He plucked deftly at the fingertips of his goves, tugging them both off and tucking them away alongside the pouch.

“I got a job - oh, ‘bout two weeks back?” Tango shrugged and fastened the closure on his bag. “Some guy a little further to the west had some complaints about some big buggers that were uprooting his field and eating his fresh sprouts.” He nodded toward the herd with a small grin. “These guys.”

The little ravager slowly returned to where he’d been hiding, tucking up close to the larger ravager from before and nuzzling in close. Tango watched him for a moment before turning away. His path carried him back to the other end of camp where Jimmy could now make out the rest of Tango’s setup. A small stone-edged firepit had been dug into the earth with a kettle hanging over it, and just beyond that was a small cave entrance Jimmy hadn’t noticed before. The whole campsite had been tucked up against a cliff face, probably safer from the elements than it would have been to set up camp in another more open clearing, and though it was too dark to see inside, Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion the cave probably extended far enough into the rock to allow someone to bunk there for the night if need be.

All the while, the glowing flames Tango had been using to illuminate the night followed them overhead, and it was only now as they approached the fire pit that he summoned them downward to his bare palm again. The blaze rods burned brighter around his head as if to make up for the shift in lighting.

“So anyway, I show up at his place,” Tango went on, crouching on the balls of his feet to fuss with the pit’s kindling, drawing fresh wood over from a pile not far off, “and he’s this grumpy old jerk. He’s spewing all these complaints about ‘miserable creatures’ and ‘they’re a menace I tell you!’ and I’m just nodding along, all friendly-like, like “Yes sir, of course sir”. And I tell him I’ll take a look - oh, sorry Jimmy, uh. There’s a blanket over there if you wanna sit on something other than the ground.”

Jimmy’s eyes followed Tango’s gesturing hand to a small wooden cart, one tucked away in the trees, and he murmured a friendly thanks as he went to fetch the blanket Tango had mentioned. He carefully shouldered off his bag as he went, the broken glass inside tinkling beneath the leather and making him wince. He’d have to clean that out later.

He set it aside to look for the blanket, and Tango’s story continued on in the background.

“So I tell him I’ll take a look, right? And I go out there - and it’s this tiny herd of ravagers. Two big ones, two adolescents, and a handful of calves. I’m talkin’ just born calves, absolutely tiny things.”

“Like the one I just met?” Jimmy asked, understanding, and Tango nodded vigorously.

“Exactly! That little guy’s only a few weeks old.” He shifted one last log, made a twisting motion with his hand, and the campfire came to life with warmth and light. He grinned, victorious, and clapped his hands a few times to get rid of bits of bark and debris. Then he squinted over at Jimmy through the semi-darkness “Uh - yeah, that one. Plop it down and we can take a breather.”

Jimmy, who had been holding a thick blue blanket aloft in question, let out a little sigh of relief and did as he was asked. He started to unfold it across the ground near the fire and Tango reached over to help lay it out. Jimmy smiled at him in gratitude.

“So basically, there were a bunch of ravagers on some guy’s property, and he just asked you to take them off his hands?”

Tango’s expression darkened. For a moment, Jimmy wondered if he’d said something wrong.

“No.” Tango let out a short, wheezing huff, his hair suddenly crackling with sparks, and Jimmy eyed the tiny flickering flames with concern. “Nah. The guy - he wasn’t friendly, like I said.” Tango tugged at one corner of the blanket forcefully, smoothing it out with a little more sharpness than was necessary. “I told him what was back there, and he wanted me to–” Tango’s jaw clenched and his eyes flashed, smoke leaking into the air from somewhere Jimmy couldn’t place. From somewhere on Tango. “He said to deal with them, and he didn’t mean it in the casual sense.”

Jimmy, who had been carefully settling down onto the blanket in an attempt to avoid jostling his bound wing, took longer than he should have to register what Tango meant.

“Wh - wait, like–”

“He wanted them gone,” Tango muttered sharply, irately, his tail lashing at the air behind him as he dropped onto the blanket himself. “Didn’t matter that some of ‘em were just babies.”

Jimmy’s expression fell, his eyes trailing to the far corner of the clearing where the smallest of the ravagers was still hiding in the shadows, shy and sweet and wanting nothing but affection and food.

“I told him there were bitties over there too, but he just–” Tango scoffed, raking back his hair with both hands, a snarl curling his lips. Then he yanked off his bag, dropping it in his lap and sorting through it jerkily, harshly. The remaining branches he hadn’t used were tossed toward the collection of firewood and the pouch of berries was dropped by Tango’s side. The blaze rods around his head spun rapidly with his irritation, aglow with internal flames. “They only wanted food! They were hungry, and they had their calves out of season, so they didn’t migrate north with the rest of the herd–”

Then Tango yanked a tangle of rope from his bag a little too harshly, elbowing Jimmy in the process, and Jimmy sucked down a sharp breath with a shocked chirp at the jolt of pain it sent sparking through his wing. Tango’s attention instantly snapped to him and his anger dissipated in a heartbeat, wide red eyes and a startled expression coming to life on his face.

“Shit, sorry!” he stammered out quickly, scrambling to his knees and creating a small distance between them. “I’m sorry man, that–” He glanced toward Jimmy’s bound wing, eyeing the way Jimmy was clutching at his shoulder with a wince. Jimmy’s attempt at a strained smile went unseen. “I’ll grab that potion for you. Hold tight.”

Then he was scampering off, ducking into the cave’s entrance and vanishing into the shadows. Jimmy stared after him as the momentary pain faded back to a dull throbbing ache.

Tango was, perhaps, one of the strangest people Jimmy had ever met. Not the strangest by far - Pearl could be much stranger in comparison - but he certainly wouldn’t be someone Jimmy would be forgetting anytime soon. He had this aura of unending, boundless energy to him, and an air of easy joy and excitement. Despite the crisis of a situation that had brought them together today, Jimmy was sure he’d seen Tango smiling more than frowning since they’d met. There was also his fiery nature - physically and metaphorically - that still had Jimmy wondering what, exactly, he was and where he came from…but only for his own curiosity rather than for judgment’s sake. It was unique, it was definitely unique in Jimmy’s experience, and Jimmy wasn’t sure he could picture Tango any other way than with his ruby eyes and fiery hair and animated tail and flames.

He was also warmth, Jimmy noted. Warmth and kindness and compassion. Zealous compassion, from what Jimmy had seen, but also gentleness when needed. Tango carefully splinting Jimmy’s wing with as much care as he could muster. Tango easing Jimmy into meeting a young ravager, going slow so neither Jimmy nor the ravager would get spooked in the process. He was kind. He was a good person, one who grew irate at the thought of creatures being killed for no reason, and one who offered Jimmy his hospitality for the night to ensure he’d get home safely the next day.

Jimmy smiled softly to himself, his unbound wing going lax and comfortable against his back. It was rare to find kind strangers, but Tango was proving to be the exception. A kind stranger and pleasant company to boot. For all that Jimmy often thought himself unlucky, he seemed to have run into a wondrous stroke of good luck, despite the injury he’d sustained in the process. It was a welcome change.

The feathers around Jimmy’s ears perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned to see Tango finally returning, his arms ladened with a few more things than Jimmy had been expecting to see. He frowned curiously, his head cocking to the side and his feathers flaring.

“Did you not find the potion?”

Tango ducked below a low branch and settled onto the blanket beside Jimmy again, the firelight illuminating one side of his sheepishly smiling face. He let his haul tumble to the ground beside him, retaining his hold on a stoppered glass bottle as he did so.

“Nah, I found it,” he said. “Like I said, I don’t have a healing potion, but this’ll help with the pain.”

He handed it over and Jimmy took it with grateful hands, letting out a breath and carefully tugging out the stopper. The lingering smell of nether wart and sweet fruit met his nose and he sighed, the semi-familiarity a balm on his senses. He sipped at it slowly, the fizzy coolness of it tickling at his throat. He felt his magic rush up to meet it, the cool soothe shifting to a cozy sort of warmth as it settled in his very being, his aching shoulder and back the first to be alleviated. By the time the effects reached his wing, Jimmy felt like putty, a pleasant buzz just beneath his skin that was far more welcome than the ache and sharp jolting pains that he’d been doing his best to ignore before.

“Better?”

Tango sounded amused, and when Jimmy blinked sluggishly up at him, he caught sight of a cheeky sort of grin on the other man’s face. He nodded and smiled, more than a little grateful.

“Immensely. Thank you.” He restoppered the bottle and held it out for Tango to take, but Tango just pushed it back in Jimmy’s direction.

“Dude, keep it,” he insisted. “I don’t know how long of a trip you’ve got to get back home, but you’ll need it even if it’s short. Trust me.”

Jimmy had half a mind to insist right back, but - well. Tango looked quite determined, and he was already turning back to his pile of acquisitions before Jimmy could even attempt to get a word in edge-wise. So Jimmy let it lie.

“What is all that?” he asked instead, setting the potion bottle aside for later and trying to see past Tango to the items he’d brought back with him.

Tango flashed a grin over his shoulder before turning to face him, presenting a foil-made bowl of sorts with a mix of ingredients inside it.

“Food!” He announced proudly. “It’s not much, just some chicken and veggies and red pepper action. Couple spices. I normally like my food super spiced, but I kinda figured you’d want something a bit more on the normal scale.”

Jimmy eyed the mix hungrily, eagerly, already nodding along to whatever Tango was describing.

“Please,” he agreed. “Thank you. Oh my gosh, I didn’t even think to bring anything with me, you’re a lifesaver.”

He hadn’t eaten a thing since leaving the inn that morning. He wasn’t planning on eating lunch because it sometimes threw him off when he was trying to attune or meditate, but he’d also assumed he’d be back in town before sundown. Whatever meal he would have eaten was sitting back in his room in the ice box.

Tango shrugged and waved him off with a lopsided grin.

“Naaah, it’s just campout food. It’s nothin’ special. I put a bunch of stuff in a stasis chest for the trip. Potatoes and chicken and stuff is easy.” He shifted forward and crouched on the balls of his feet beside the fire, wrapping the food up into a tinfoil ball and plunging his entire fist into the flames.

Jimmy almost yelped to warn him away from burning himself before remembering that Tango was, in fact, a being of fire himself. As it stood, the strangled twittering sound that escaped him was just as humiliating and Jimmy ended up flushing under Tango’s shit-eating grin all the same.

It reminded him of Grian, but with far less malice.

“What, worried over little ol’ me?” Tango teased cheekily.

Jimmy took the mature route and stuck his tongue out at him. Tango only laughed.

In the comfortable quiet that followed, broken only by the crackling of the fire, the distant sound of ravagers, and the sizzle of cooking food, Jimmy scooted closer to the front edge of the blanket to bask in the warmth of the flames. He uncurled his unbound wing and stretched it leisurely, letting the fire warm his feathers for a moment or two. His eyes drifted over toward the shifting herd tethered across the clearing.

“...do you normally handle big creatures like this by yourself?” he asked, curious, and Tango turned his head slightly to give Jimmy a momentary glance.

“Nowadays, yeah,” he said, returning his focus to the food. “I didn’t used to. I had a team I used to work with - bunch of friends, really. Four of us. Me, Skizz, Etho, and Bdubs. We were the best.” He snorted, chuckling lightly at a joke of some kind that Jimmy must’ve not been privy to.

“Not anymore?” Jimmy asked. Tango merely shrugged, his grin still lingering, though Jimmy could see the way it grew more melancholy at the edges.

“Nah,” said Tango. “The team kinda busted up. Little over a year ago, there was this…” He turned the foil over in the flames, pondering for a moment. “...well, I guess I’d call it an incident. Explosion? Something like that. Nobody was seriously hurt, but the whole damn building went sky-high.”

Jimmy gaped at him

“Holy moly - are you serious?!”

“Dead serious.” Tango smirked. “You ever heard of a wither?”

At the mention of its name, Jimmy paled, his eyes widening slightly. A wither? They were demonic wraiths, powerful ones. They usually only ever appeared in the overworld if summoned by hand, and they were extremely difficult to take down once summoned. They breathed death and left unease and lifelessness in their wake.

“Yeah,” he murmured, and Tango grinned sharply.

“Well, Etho and Bdubs managed to summon one by accident. Took all of us to take the damn thing out, and Bdubs got hit with some major witherfication in the process. The guy was bedridden for a whole day afterward.”

Jimmy stared. By…by accident? How–

“Etho and Bdubs ended up going their separate ways after that, and my buddy Skizz heard news that another friend of ours was headin’ home for a month before taking a gig with a coven of some kind, so he went off to spend some time with the guy.” Tango pulled the foil from the fire with a sniff, shrugging one shoulder as he peeled back the outermost layer to take a look inside. “Which left me without backup. I liked the job too much to just stop, so I kept on going without ‘em.”

“By accident?” Jimmy blurted out, still staring at Tango, gobsmacked. Tango, who was rewrapping the foil to shove it back into the fire, flicked one ear in his direction.

“Hm?”

“The wither,” he said. “They summoned it by accident.”

“Uh - oh! Yeah,” Tango snorted and chuckled. “Yeah, they did.”

“How??”

“Oh, you know…” Tango made a swirling motion in the air with one hand, his tail dancing lazily behind him. “...Etho’s a pretty strong witch, and Bdubs was his familiar. Perfect fit, they always said, and - I mean from what I could tell they were insanely powerful together. Their spells were friggin’ nuts. They ended up breaking their bond or whatever after the wither shindig happened, for safety they said, and - I dunno.” He shrugged, picking at the foil again to check the cooking food. “I asked Etho after Bdubs had already left, and he just said they were too compatible. It’s why he went looking for another familiar.” He sat back on his heels and reached for a wayward tin plate with his free hand, toting it close and dropping the half-wrapped and now sizzling, steaming food onto it. “He said something about a…I don’t know, magical overload? Too much fuel for the fire? Hels if I know, I don’t know a lick about magic. That was more Impy’s area of expertise…”

For what seemed like the umpteenth time since meeting Tango that night, Jimmy found himself staring gobsmacked at the semi-stranger in front of him. He didn’t know much about magic…? What in the world was Tango even–

“But you’re a witch,” he said bluntly, and Tango paused, shooting him an incredulous, amused look. He let out a confused giggle, his brow furrowing with his smile.

“What?” He tilted his head. “What, you mean the flameification? The fire? That’s just netherborn stuff. I’m a blaze hybrid, it’s what we do.”

“No - no, that–” Jimmy shook his head. He was only half paying attention as Tango separated half of the meat and vegetables onto a second plate and pressed it into Jimmy’s hands. The tin plate only survived gravity thanks to some sort of muscle memory on Jimmy’s part to automatically grab what he’d been handed. “I felt the magic in your flames. That’s witch magic. It’s a bit different, but it’s definitely a witch’s magic.”

Tango plopped onto the blanket beside Jimmy with a disbelieving laugh, plate in hand and smile as incredulous as before.

“Uh - no, it’s nether magic,” he corrected, though he sounded a bit less sure of himself. “My best friend is a witch. He would’ve known if - wait you felt my magic?” he cut himself off abruptly, eyes locking sharply on Jimmy. He gave the avian a once-over, his eyebrows flying high. “Are you a witch?”

Jimmy spluttered.

“I - no! I’m not a–” He set his untouched plate aside, spinning to face Tango more fully on the blanket. No wonder Tango had thought he was an avian hybrid before. “I’m a familiar. A canary.” He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder toward his wings, which Tango was now taking in with a dawning spark of understanding in his eyes. “I’ve been bound to a witch before, I know what a witch’s magic feels like. And you’ve got it.”

Tango was quiet in the aftermath of that statement, his own food just as untouched as Jimmy’s and a still, puzzled expression on his face. His tail had curled close around him at some point during Jimmy’s insistent declaration and one of his ears flicked every so often in the following silence, his hair and blaze rods sparking slightly in the fire-lit darkness of the night.

Then Tango’s gaze dropped, one hand coming up to summon a few tiny, swirling flames above his palm.

“...you…this?” He held the flames out toward Jimmy. “This feels like witch stuff?”

He sounded quiet, curious. Unsure.

Jimmy took an even breath and reached forward, his hand hovering above Tango’s and basking in the tiny warmth. He closed his eyes, his magical core reaching out in a similar manner to how it had when he’d attempted to attune early that afternoon. This time, rather than emanating from his entire being, it centered around his extended hand, dancing around his fingers and swirling out into the air around his palm. Just as before, Tango’s fire - his magic - was easy to sense, the warmth of it and the familiar traces of witchcraft resonating in Jimmy’s peripherals. Now that he was actively seeking it out, though, he was able to read it so much clearer than before. It was a bit chaotic, constantly moving and dancing around Jimmy’s magic, curious and uncontrolled and almost new. It wasn’t quite a fledgling core - Tango was too old for that - but it was undeveloped. Untried, untrained. It was warm and welcoming too, reaching out and drawing Jimmy in with an open sort of innocent curiosity that was usually trained out of most mages at a young age.

But Tango hadn’t been trained, Jimmy realized.

Tango hadn’t even known he was a witch to begin with.

Tango didn’t have a clue what he was doing, hadn’t even realized the untapped potential singing just below his chest until…until Jimmy. And maybe he wouldn’t have known for a long while after, if Jimmy had never come along.

Tango sucked down a sharp, gasped breath and Jimmy pulled back, his eyes flying open and his magic reigning itself in quickly.

“What - what?” he stammered out, his unbound wing puffing up in concern. “What’d I do?”

Tango’s other hand was pressed to his chest and his eyes were wide, awestruck, his hair aglow seemingly from within. He blinked a few times before meeting Jimmy’s eyes.

“I…felt that,” he whispered. “Whatever that was. I felt - what the heck was that?”

Jimmy frowned, concerned.

“I just…reached out?” he offered with a one-shouldered shrug. “Your magic reached back a bit, but that’s all. I didn’t do much. Why, did it hurt?”

“No, it–” Tango rubbed his knuckles over his sternum, looking thoughtful. Then he chuckled, a watery, nervous smile tugging at his lips. “It was just weird. And warm. And, uh - I dunno. Sparkly.”

“Sparkly?” Jimmy repeated. His worry melted away and he smiled softly. Magic. Tango was sensing magic, maybe for the first time. “Did it feel familiar, or completely new?”

“A bit familiar, yeah,” Tango nodded slowly. “Kinda like…” He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “This sounds nuts, but it kinda felt like–” He eyed his palm, where the flames he had summoned had long since gone out. “–well, you know when you meet someone on the street, and you know you know them, but you can’t remember why? Or they just - look different than the last time you saw them, so you can’t figure out where you know ‘em from until like an hour later? It’s like that.”

“Like someone you used to know?” Jimmy offered, his head tilting to the side and his ear feathers flaring. Tango nodded more vigorously.

“Yeah, that! Exactly.” A brilliant grin had come to life on his face, giddy almost, and he poked his own chest. “Like - right here, I could feel that. And–” He broke off, recognition dawning, and he stared wide-eyed at Jimmy. “Oh my god, I’m a witch.”

Jimmy grinned brightly.

“You are!” he agreed, his unbound wing fluttering in his excitement. “That’s what I was saying!”

Tango laughed, a bit giddy and hysterical at first, then it grew brighter. Bright and loud and full-bodied, his amusement and excitement and joy palpable in the rasping laughter resonating in the clearing.

“Oh my gods, Impy’s never gonna believe this!” he crowed, seemingly overjoyed. “The guy’s been the only witch in our friend group for years, and now here I am - some sorta incognito witch-in-hiding. Like a sleeper agent.” He bounced a bit where he sat, grinning brilliantly at Jimmy. “I feel like I should be asking you what my code word was, man. This is - this is unreal.”

Jimmy warmed at the sight of Tango’s excitement, his energy infectious and his grin ever-present. The space beneath his ribs felt so full of joy for this zany stranger that he was sure he’d pop. Tango had never known. His whole life, and he’d never known, and now that he knew - it was like watching a kid on Christmas the way he seemed to be lighting up from the inside. This whole piece of himself that he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing out on, and now it was like they’d suddenly been reunited. Jimmy couldn’t even imagine.

“Wait - you know magic,” Tango said suddenly, and Jimmy straightened.

“I - yeah?”

“Can you teach me?”

Oh - oh, gosh.

“I - well…” Jimmy’s smile turned a bit strained and his ear feathers flattened against his head, his wing drooping against the blanket. “...I’m not very good.”

“I doubt that,” Tango scoffed. “I bet you know loads of stuff.”

And he did, to a point, Tango wasn’t wrong. But knowing magic and being skilled in magic were two vastly different things. Jimmy opened his mouth, closed it, and chewed on his lip, trying to explain that he really wasn’t the person Tango should be turning to for magical training.

Tango, fortunately, managed to come up with a solid distraction before Jimmy even needed to say a word.

“Oh - food. We didn’t even eat yet, I completely forgot–”

Tango was reaching across to grab Jimmy’s meal before he even noticed Tango had gotten close, a tin plate balanced in each hand. For a moment, Jimmy wasn’t sure what Tango was doing - and then a low heat began to resonate off of the plates and the food they held. Oh - fire, of course. Warmth. Tango’s specialty. After a few long moments Tango set both plates down between them, grinning proudly.

“Magic,” he declared, waggling his eyebrows, and Jimmy couldn’t really stifle the small laugh it drew from him as a result. “C’mon, let’s eat before it gets cold again. I wanna learn some more about this witch stuff before I get too tired to focus.”

Ah. Or perhaps Jimmy wasn’t quite as off the hook as he’d hoped.

Tango had been kind enough (and willing enough) to fill the quiet between bites of their meal. He had plenty of stories to tell about past jobs he’d taken, it seemed - though Jimmy hadn’t a clue what a sniffer was or why it was so rare. He just reveled in how excited Tango seemed to be to have encountered one in the first place.

But at some point, when Jimmy was following Tango down to a nearby stream to rinse their dishes, the conversation turned to Jimmy instead. It wasn’t that Jimmy had been avoiding talking about himself necessarily, but - well. With how sore certain events in his recent past still were, it wasn’t as if Jimmy had been chomping at the bit to tell his own dramatic tale.

“I never asked - what’re you even doing out here in the forest?” Tango had asked. “It’s a bit deep in to just be going for a stroll.”

And Jimmy - well, Jimmy simply didn’t have the heart to lie to him after Tango had shared so much of his own story tonight.

“Er…attuning,” he murmured, leaning his shoulder against a tree as he watched Tango’s crouched form at the river’s edge. “I’ve had a bit of trouble with my familiar transformations lately, so my brothers said I ought to find a place to attune.” At the puzzled look Tango shot over his shoulder - ah, right, Tango wouldn’t know the terminology - Jimmy elaborated. “Attuning’s like - magical meditation? Sort of? It…well, for familiars, you’re basically trying to find harmony between your human side and your familiar side. To make it easier to shift back and forth, to be able to tap into certain abilities - that sort of thing. So, for me, it’s me and my inner canary.”

“Ahhh.” Tango nodded in understanding. He tapped the second tin plate lightly against his knee to dislodge some of the loose water still lingering on it. “So - what, you and your inner birdy aren’t getting along?”

Jimmy snorted.

“No, not–” He huffed out a half laugh. “Not like that. It’s more like things just aren’t syncing up, is all.” And I’m not strong enough, a small, traitorous voice in the back of his head murmured, one he shoved away forcefully with a barely restrained grimace.

“Did it help?”

“Hm?”

Tango, who had stood and approached him by now, made a vague gesture in the direction of Jimmy’s wings.

“The whole - attunification thing,” he wiggled his fingers as if to mimic magic of some kind. “Did it help?”

Jimmy winced.

“Not yet,” he admitted. “I’m not great at meditation anyway, and my wings were too itchy. I kept getting distracted.”

“Oof. That sucks.”

Jimmy shrugged, trailing after Tango back to camp, the now-familiar flames hovering along overhead. With the way a cool air had settled over the forest, Jimmy was grateful for the small warmth they provided. He shoved his fists into his pockets and drew his unbound wing close, curling it around himself to stave off the chill. Then he sighed.

“If I can get my hands on another healing potion, then I can just try again tomorrow.”

The campsite came into view and Tango made a temporary beeline toward the cave, dropping the dishes and cutlery at the entrance without bothering to go inside. He was back by the campfire soon enough, dragging another log over to keep it going. Jimmy huddled close to the fire at the blanket’s edge once more, soaking in whatever warmth he could before he’d inevitably ask if Tango had another blanket to spare.

He could wait. He’d rather be polite than needy.

“You mentioned brothers?” Tango asked, shifting a log with his bare hands, a sight that Jimmy was still getting used to. “So you’ve got family waiting for you when you’re done here, huh?”

“Brothers, yes. Waiting, no.” Jimmy drew his knees to his chest and folded his arms on top of them, his chin resting on his sleeves. “Sort of. They - I mean. Grian’s my older brother by blood. He’s an avian familiar like me, just a different breed. And we grew up with Martyn living right next door. A witch. The whole little community was magical in some way or another. Witches, familiars, magical hybrids, people with other abilities - that was home. I didn’t know there were people who grew up without magic until I was into my early teens at least.”

Tango had gone quiet, and when Jimmy flicked his eyes in the other man’s direction, he was listening to Jimmy with his full attention. There was a small smile on his face and his tail was flicking back and forth along the ground behind him.

“That sounds really nice,” he said, and Jimmy ducked his head with a sheepish smile of his own.

“Yeah…it was,” he agreed. For a while, anyway. But that wasn’t a story he brought up easily. He took a breath. “Anyway, I’ve been with this coven for about a year now. Grian, Martyn, another witch, and a friend of Grian’s who’s - well he’s not a witch. But he’s into science and studying magic.”

Tango let out a huffed little laugh.

“Heh, yeah…I know one o’ them. Got a friend like that.”

Jimmy’s cheek pressed into his shirt sleeve with his grin.

“Is he friendly, curious, a bit mad? Possibly a danger to himself?”

“Yup!” Tango snickered, shifting away from the fire to sprawl back on the blanket. He propped himself up on his side, grinning at Jimmy all the while. “Got it in one. Your science guy wouldn’t happen to be named Zedaph, would he?”

“Nah, not even close,” Jimmy returned. Tango sighed in mock disappointment. “I imagine they’d be fast friends if they met though.”

“Oh, for sure!” Tango flashed him a cheeky grin. “So what about this coven of yours?”

“Right! Right, yeah.” Jimmy shrugged. “My story sounds a bit like yours, actually. The keep we lived in met a bit of an explosive end. A healing crystal experiment gone very very wrong.”

“Oh nooo,” Tango groaned, looking apologetic. “That sucks man. Was everyone okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course!” Jimmy nodded against his arms. “Mostly alright. But - well I hadn’t exactly told Grian I’d been having trouble transforming, an’ then I got stuck under rubble and couldn’t get out because I couldn’t shrink down to get between the gaps in the stone, and…well.” He gestured to himself, then to the canopy overhead. “He and Martyn sent me off into the forest to fix the problem.”

“Oof, harsh.”

“More like necessary.”

“Maybe.” Tango’s smile stretched to a grin and he reached over to poke Jimmy’s shoulder. “Well hey, you met me, didn’t you?” he said brightly. “That’s gotta be an upside!”

Jimmy smirked.

“Yeah. Except the part where you broke my wing.”

Tango squawked, spluttering, his blaze rods swirling.

“Wh- hey! The ravager broke your wing!” he protested, affronted. “I’m the guy who tried to help fix it!”

Jimmy giggled against his arm, enjoying the faces Tango was making across the blanket. He was probably more animated than most people Jimmy had met. It suited him.

“You did,” he agreed. “I can’t remember if I ever said thank you for that. So…you know. Thank you.”

Tango’s indignant pout made way for another one of his bright smiles in an instant as he waved Jimmy’s words away.

“It’s nothing, really,” he shrugged it off. “I’m just glad I could help.”

Jimmy traced patterns against the blanket for a few quiet seconds, watching the way the fire reflected in the red of Tango’s eyes. He turned thoughtful. Whether it was his ravager or not, Tango really had helped him immensely in the long run. He could have left Jimmy there to fend for himself, but instead, he’d scrounged supplies together for a splint. He’d invited Jimmy back to his campsite for safety and given him a meal and treated him as a friend. He didn’t have to do all that, but he had…and he had expected nothing for it in return.

Maybe…maybe Jimmy ought to return the favor, even if it was in a small way. Maybe he could work past his hangups to give Tango the only thing he’d requested all night. He uncurled himself and turned to face Tango cross-legged, extending a hand to him.

“Would you like to learn a spell?”

Tango perked up immediately, his smile bright and eager as he scrambled to sit up the same way Jimmy was.

“Yeah,” he breathed, excitement in his eyes. “Oh my gosh, yes. Please.”

Jimmy didn’t bother trying to hide the pleased smile Tango’s reaction caused.

“Alright, well - we can start with something small and useful. Okay? A tiny healing spell.” Tango nodded readily. “Right. Okay. So - here, hold your hands out in front of you, palm up - sort of. Relax your fingers…” Jimmy reached out to trace along the back of Tango’s hands, guiding him so his fingers were curling ever-so-slightly upward, as if holding an invisible weight. “...yeah, like that. Exactly.” He shook out his own hands and rested them face-down on top of Tango’s, his middle fingertips pressed gently to the pulse point on each of Tango’s wrists.

Jimmy took a slow, shuddering breath. Gods. The last time he’d even done this with someone one-on-one was back with - Scott. With Scott. They usually did group spellcasting in the Southlands. And even when they didn’t, Grian was always willing to step in when Impulse or Martyn needed to cast a solo spell, so Jimmy hadn’t assisted a witch individually like this in almost a year. Not since the cottage. His jaw tensed and he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to focus.

This wasn’t Scott. It was Tango, and Tango was a new witch who needed his guidance…for as much guidance as a less powerful familiar like him could even offer, anyhow.

“What do I do now?” Tango asked in a hoarse stage whisper, and Jimmy nearly choked on a startled laugh.

“Sorry. Right, um–” Jimmy took a quick breath. “Okay. Most magic is just…intent. Feelings, sort of. Some more complex stuff requires sigils and runes and long incantations and certain - er - extra ingredients, I guess? Stuff that can help you channel certain kinds of magic. But minor healing like this doesn’t need anything extra. It’s like levitation an’ kinetic stuff, it’s more instinctual. So, um.”

He chewed his lip, trying to figure out how to explain. He’d never needed to put what spellcasting felt like into words before. Jimmy had grown up around mages that already knew what that felt like, or had been told by their parents. And then by the time he’d left Evo behind, he was old enough that most mages he met were just as trained as he was, if not moreso. This was entirely new territory for him.

But for Tango, he’d try his best.

“You said you felt your magic before, yeah?” he asked instead, his ear feathers flaring curiously, and Tango gave a stuttering sort of nod. “That warm spot right in the middle of your chest - that’s your magical core. That’s where your power comes from.” Tango nodded more decisively. “‘Kay. Do you think you can find it again?”

“Mmmmaybeee?” Tango hazarded slowly, squinting in thought. “I mean, if you do that glowy-mojo-thing you did before, I can probably figure it out again…?”

Okay. Good first step.

“We can try that,” Jimmy agreed. “But let’s start with our goal. Do you have - I dunno, a bruise? Papercut? Something like that?”

Tango shrugged.

“Not that I know of.” Then he shot Jimmy a cheeky grin. “What, I’m not advanced enough to try an’ fix up your wing, bird boy?”

Jimmy’s unbound wing twitched agitatedly at his back and he rolled his eyes.

“Absolutely not,” he said, the sharpness in his denial coming through as humorous. “Trust me, not even I would attempt that without a magebond.”

Tango snickered to himself.

“Eh, worth a shot.” Then he gave Jimmy a quick once-over, his grin softening to a hopeful smile. “Maybe something smaller? Did you get scuffed up anywhere else? I can fix that instead.”

Jimmy blinked, slightly surprised. He - he hadn’t even thought of using the spell on himself. He just wanted Tango to learn something that would keep him safer on his journey. Tango’s offer was-

It was sweet.

“I - guess?” he managed on a breath. “My, um. My hands got scrapped up on bark, when I was tackled. That would be easy enough.”

“Yeah, that!” Tango grinned. “Let’s do that.”

Oh, gosh - okay. Yeah, alright.

“Good. Great.” Jimmy cleared his throat and straightened his back. “Okay. I can start the spell, if you like, and I’ll let you try and follow along. And if you don’t get it the first time I can stop and we can try again. Alright?”

Tango nodded, schooling his expression.

“Totally. I got this.”

Jimmy just smiled. He closed his eyes, focussing inward and drawing on his magic, just as he normally did for any other spell. Curious, antsy, a little distractible but ultimately comfortable - it felt the same as ever. In a repeat of the last time they’d been sitting like this, Jimmy reached out with his magic, the energy of it buzzing just below his skin. He pushed it gently outward, seeking, reaching - and he wasn’t even a little surprised this time when he felt Tango’s magic dancing forward to meet him in the middle.

Across from him, Tango’s breath caught, and then he chuckled giddily.

“I feel that,” he breathed, his words all smiles, and Jimmy grinned to himself.

“Yeah?” He kept his energy steady, wanting to let Tango find his way on his own. “D’you think you can make your magic listen to you?”

“Listen - what, listen to me? What are you, Yoda? Use the force or whatever?”

Jimmy snorted, prying open one eye to see Tango’s face screwed up in close-eyed concentration.

“Basically.” He let his eye fall shut. “Your fire comes from the same place. Right? So - maybe think about what that feels like. Yeah? Try an’ reach for that. Just - without the fire, please.”

“No burnification. Got it.”

Jimmy bit back another laugh, his shoulders silently shaking. Gods, he’d never had to fight back giggles like this when casting a spell. This was ridiculous.

It was fun.

Something in the mingling mixture of their magic jolted, and Jimmy heard Tango let out a victorious little laugh.

“Hah! That! That was good, right?? I did - well I think I did something!”

“Yeah, you did!” Jimmy agreed. “D’you think you can maintain it? Like - hold that connection?”

“I think so, yeah–”

And he could. He could, and Jimmy could sense it, the way some of the eager chaos in Tango’s untamed magic lessened to a degree, became more focused. More sure. It wasn’t perfect by any means, and Tango definitely had a long way to go, but it was a start. Jimmy hadn’t expected him to pick it up so quickly, in truth. He had expected it to take longer to ease into the basics. But he seemed to be doing better than Jimmy had hoped…a natural talent, perhaps.

So Jimmy began to guide him, waiting to see how well Tango would follow. He wove his own magic in concentrated spirals around their joined hands, and Tango did his best to keep up. Small jolts and stutters interrupted his movements, uncertainty making his magic lose form a few times, but he was still following all the same. It was something. It was a start.

A numb, tingling chill danced across Jimmy’s palms where the scrapes and scratches sat, tickling at his skin and making him shiver. But it felt right, how a healing spell was meant to feel. It was slow, to be sure, but it was right.

“You’re doing amazing, Tango,” he grinned, peeking one eye open again to see the way Tango’s face reddened under the praise. His hair was aglow again the way it had been earlier, illuminated from within by something other than flames.

“I’m trying,” he muttered. He seemed too focused for many other words.

“Just a little more, then we can stop.”

Just a little more.

Just a little–

Tango’s magic leapt, excitable and unpracticed, and Jimmy heard him let out a frustrated snarl. He was quick to let his own energy flow forward to help, soothing sparking edges and coaxing him back on track. At this point, the cool healing tingle in his palms had crept up his wrists, up his arms, and it was only now that Jimmy was paying attention that he noticed just how far the spell had migrated. Either Tango was stronger than he knew, or he was pushing himself too hard.

“D’you think you can ease up a bit?” Jimmy asked, and Tango’s hands twitched against Jimmy’s.

“I - maybe?”

“Do you want me to help?”

“...yeah. Yeah, please. Sorry man, I’m not–”

“No worries! You’re new. ‘S okay.”

He did as he’d offered, taking a breath and doing his best to reign in the runaway magic. He’d done things like this before, to an extent, when cursed objects or magical artifacts went a bit haywire. It was a bit different when trying to do the same for a living mage.

Tango’s magic was wiley, unpredictable - but it wasn’t malicious. Where Jimmy reached out with his own magic to try and control the situation, Tango’s would rush up to meet him, curious and eager and excitable, just like its caster. It would move with him, trail after him, almost looking for attention the way Jimmy’s magic sometimes did when he hadn’t used it in a while. It was actually becoming a little difficult to differentiate between what was his own magic and what was Tango’s, the energies mixing and melding and blending and–

A burst of magical energy rushed through Jimmy quicker than he could contain it, sending him reeling, knocking the wind from him. It coursed through his veins and sparked behind his eyes and sent tingles to the ends of his limbs and a warmth through his chest, his back, his wings, aches soothing before he could remember they were there, soothing the bruise at the edge of his core that had been bothering him since–

What?

No.

No, this was - this couldn’t - they hadn’t even–

STOP.

Jimmy gasped sharply and yanked his hands away from Tango’s, scrambling back across the blanket and gulping down air like a man starved, his chest heaving and his pulse racing and his wings -

…his wings…healed. Healed. Tango had - unless he was crazy, unless…unless he wasn’t…

“Jimmy-?”

Jimmy tugged weakly at the bandages still wound around his chest, too tight, too tight now that he was struggling to breathe. And there was a burning feeling, burning but not painful, right in the center of his chest, like fire, like hearth, like familiarity, like home, like–

Hands were on him in an instant and the burn subsided as quickly as it had come, suddenly calmed like the eye of a storm.

“What’d I do?” a panicked voice was asking, pleading, almost desperate, right above him. “Shit, shit, I didn’t - Jimmy? Jimmy, are you okay?”

Jimmy dragged himself to some sense of awareness, trying to orient himself, becoming a little more aware of the glowing form above him. Tango’s panicking face swam into view and Jimmy latched onto that, trying to keep himself focussed on the red of his eyes, on the glow of his freckles, on - on something, on details, on–

“T-Tight,” he choked out, wheezing, tugging at the bandages again. “Help–”

“You want - Jimmy, wait, no, your wing, remember? You can’t–”

Jimmy let out a frustrated, wheezed chirp, digging his fingers into the material, tugging despite his current lack of coordination. Tango grabbed at his wrist to catch him before he could do much else.

“Woah, okay, okay! Hold on…”

Tango scrambled for something at his waist - the knife, Jimmy realized - and he took rapid care in digging the blade into the wrapped cotton, slicing through it without catching Jimmy’s clothes. The second he was free, Jimmy’s chest heaved, air rushing into his lungs more easily than before. His “broken” wing - still bound to itself, though no longer to his chest - wasn’t even the slightest bit bothered by the sudden movement, and he was beginning to suspect more and more that he and Tango had managed to do something extraordinary without even trying to.

More than one extraordinary thing, perhaps, though he wasn’t quite ready to focus on that yet.

For now, Jimmy curled forward and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes hard enough to see stars beneath his eyelids, and he breathed, and he forced his magic to settle. It proved to be a more difficult feat than he wished it was, magical energy still buzzing away just below the surface of his skin, refusing to quiet and refusing to calm. He was also acutely aware of the warm hand gripping his shoulder, the comfort of it grounding and distracting all at once.

“...better?” Tango asked, sounding nervous, and Jimmy nodded against his hands.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

There was quiet, awkward quiet, for a beat or two. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before, and Jimmy almost wanted to blame himself for it. He should have picked a different spell.

Tango cleared his throat and pulled away, leaving space between them that Jimmy could feel, and the moment Tango’s hand left his shoulder something inside him seized. That burn in his chest was back, all-encompassing, unignorable, distracting and alien and familiar and–

Jimmy reached out before he could stop himself, grabbing Tango’s wrist without needing to see it and letting out a shaking sigh of relief when his core settled again upon contact.

Shit.

Shit.

Void below, they were screwed.

“What was that?” Tango asked shakily, and Jimmy was finally able to focus on him properly.

Tango looked properly spooked, his face pale and his brows furrowed in confusion and his ears pinned back and his eyes wide. His other hand was clutching at his chest, and Jimmy couldn’t blame him, not if he’d felt the same thing Jimmy had, not when Tango was so new to all of this.

Jimmy swallowed past the lump in his throat, past the building panic that was welling in his lungs.

“That,” he said on a hoarse breath, “would be a fresh magebond.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If Jimmy had a choice, he’d be pacing right now. He wanted to keep moving, to work out the antsy anxiety in his veins, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because every time he let go of Tango, that feeling in his chest would come back tenfold and he couldn’t think straight. So instead, he was sitting in front of the fire again with his knees drawn to his chest and Tango behind him, one hand resting on Tango’s outstretched leg while warm, nimble fingers slowly unwrapped the bandages from Jimmy’s wing.

It had healed after all, it seemed. A task Jimmy had deemed “difficult” and “impossible”...and they’d managed to do it anyway.

And even more impossibly, they’d formed a magebond on top of it all.

“I’m sorry,” Tango had tried to say, as if any of the blame was his, but Jimmy had been quick to banish the thought.

“It’s not your fault,” he’d insisted. “You’re a novice. Even a trained witch couldn’t’ve done this by mistake.”

Tango hadn’t looked fully convinced, but Jimmy’s sincerity and quiet confidence in Tango’s blamelessness seemed to help diminish his fears well enough.

(Though Jimmy had half a mind to believe Tango’s gentle care in unwrapping his wing was meant to act as the apology Jimmy had refused to accept. Apology or not, he was grateful for Tango’s help.)

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Jimmy was saying now, trying to explain to Tango what had happened but finding himself somewhat unable. “Magebonds don’t form this way. There’s a ritual. It takes effort to find the right balance between two people’s magic for a more permanent connection to form, not - not just–”

“Silly magic fun times in the woods?”

Jimmy choked on a laugh, his wings fluffing up and his face flushing, and Tango snickered behind him.

“Yeah. Yes. Sure. That.” He took a breath, burying his face against his knees. “This isn’t how it’s meant to work. I’ve had bonds before. I took odd jobs for witches when I was younger, and those…”

They hadn’t been like this. They were purely for work, with a low level of magical compatibility and very little emotional investment. Forming those bonds hadn’t left much of an aftereffect, and when they broke at the end of their respective contracts, Jimmy had only ever needed a day or two for his core to get used to being untethered again. And then he’d taken the job with Scott, and - well. Scott was different.

“Who’s Scott?”

Jimmy jolted, his wing jerking in Tango’s hands, and he shot a wide-eyed look back over his shoulder at the startled-looking netherborn.

“What?”

“You said ‘Scott was different’,” Tango told him. “Who’s Scott?”

Oh. Had he? Gods. He had. He could feel it on his tongue. Jimmy dragged his eyes back around to stare unseeingly into the fire, chewing on his lip. He hadn’t so much as said Scott’s name more than a handful of times since leaving the cottage, not after that first month back with Grian and Martyn, anyhow. Saying it now felt hollow, slightly aching, just a little bit sore and a little bit familiar. He licked his lips, knowing Tango was awaiting an answer.

“Scott was, er…” He cleared his throat. “He was my last magebound witch. We - um. We were together. For a while.”

“Bad history?” Tango guessed, and when Jimmy managed a jerky nod, Tango hissed in sympathy. “Ouch. Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”

Jimmy let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. For all that Tango had been kind to him tonight, he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to broach that subject just yet. Especially not with a stranger.

A stranger who you’re now bound to, he reminded himself, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from reacting.

“Thanks,” he managed instead, “I’d rather not.”

“Totally.”

Jimmy rolled his shoulders and let his unencumbered wing stretch leisurely toward the fire, watching the way the light reflected off his not-quite-pristine feathers. Preening didn’t feel like quite as big of an issue now as it had that afternoon.

“...the bond felt different, is all,” he ended up carrying on in a murmur. “With…him. The ones I took on for jobs didn’t feel like much of anything, but with him we were, ah - a good match. Magically,” he quickly specified. “Compatible energy. So after our bond formed, we had a hard time staying separated for too long.”

“Like this?” Tango asked, curious. “Like what we’ve got goin’ on?”

“Yes.” A beat. “No. Sort of. It’s not–” Jimmy huffed.

He felt Tango pull the last of his bandages away so he stretched out his wings, letting the cramped muscles on the left one get a nice break before tucking them close again and turning on the spot to face Tango. They were closer than Jimmy had realized, the red freckles across Tango’s cheeks suddenly very noticeable with their proximity. Jimmy went a bit pink and inched backwards, doing his best to keep a point of casual contact all the while. Eventually, Tango reached out and grabbed his hand, holding on tight now that his own hands were no longer occupied by feathers and bandage wraps.

“Erm.” Jimmy cleared his throat. “Well. It’s stronger.”

“Stronger?” Tango asked, seemingly unbothered by how close they’d been for however briefly it lasted.

“Yes.” Jimmy tucked his legs under him, cross-legged, as he carried on. “It was only a bit of a pull, last time. Like I really wanted to be close, and my magic wanted to be close, but I could handle being away from him. This time, it’s–” Jimmy felt his face warm, his feathers puffing behind his shoulders and his hand tightening in Tango’s. “When we separate, it’s horribly distracting. Like the only thing that can help is getting my magical energy as close to yours as possible.”

Tango blinked at him.

“Is that not, uh…normal?”

“Not for me.” Jimmy dropped his eyes to their joined hands, his brow furrowed and his thoughts whirling. “We bonded by accident. It was too easy. We didn’t need a ritual, or an incantation, or a - a channeling artifact, or anything. And it’s so strong that I can’t let go of you without getting lightheaded. I’ve never–” He let out a twittering sigh. “I’ve only ever heard of this kind of thing in fairy tales. It’s ridiculous.”

“Fairy tales, huh?” Tango prodded, and when Jimmy dragged his worried eyes upward, Tango was grinning that cheeky grin of his. “So - what, does that make me your Prince Charming?” He waggled his eyebrows and Jimmy spluttered out a laugh, ducking away from Tango’s smile and shaking his head.

“Oh my gosh - Tango!” he stifled a giggle with his hand. “No, I meant - old mage fairy tales. Stories about that perfect match. The one person in the world whose magic was a twin to yours. You know, soulmates.”

Tango’s eyes went wide and wonder-filled, curiosity making his grin brighten and his ears perk up.

“Wait, soulmates?” he repeated. “Is that a real thing?”

“Well I don’t know!” Jimmy let out another little hysterical laugh. “They’re stories, aren’t they?” His giggling subsided but his smile still lingered, his eyes dropping to their joined hands again. Soulmates. He shook his head, trailing his thumb over the back of Tango’s hand absentmindedly. “...I used to hope soulmates were real,” he said after a moment. “A part of me still wants to. It sounds so nice, being able to find someone who can be your perfect magical balance. It’s hard to find a good bond match, let alone a great one.”

And yet, here’s you.

Jimmy felt eyes on him. When he looked up, Tango was watching him with a soft expression on his face, something undefined in his eyes that blinked away the moment Jimmy caught him watching. Tango sniffed and squeezed Jimmy’s hand, his tail flicking across the ground behind him.

“What do we do about this?” he asked, shaking their joined hands lightly. “Do you want to undo it?”

Something in Jimmy’s heart screamed NO! at the simple question, though he couldn’t quite fathom why. He barely knew Tango as it was. Outwardly he merely shook his head.

“We can’t yet,” he said softly. “It’s too fresh, and too strong. If we tried to break it so soon we’d both end up hurt.”

“Ah.” Tango winced. He cast a glance back over his shoulder, then raised their hands up to eye level. “Well how long d’you think we need to stick together like this?”

Oh, gods. And this was the part Jimmy hadn’t yet allowed himself to focus on. He smiled weakly.

“Constant contact? Overnight, I’d bet.” He scratched at his jaw awkwardly. “Sorry. Er - if it helps, it shouldn’t be as bad tomorrow?”

Tango let their hands fall with a cheerful sort of shrug, not a hint of irritation in sight.

“It’s all good,” he grinned. “I don’t exactly have anywhere I need to be tomorrow, do you?”

And - well. No. Jimmy really, really didn’t. He shook his head slowly.

“I’ve got a room at the inn back in town for the next week,” he said. “Not that I’m going back tonight at this point, mind you, but I’d planned to be out here a while.”

“Well that’s settled then!”

Tango clambered to his feet, still holding tight to Jimmy’s hand, and Jimmy let out a startled chirp as he was hauled bodily off the ground. Tango was stronger than he looked, a fact that was still settling in his thoughts as Tango tugged him intently toward the cave entrance.

“Uhhhh - what’s settled?” Jimmy asked, tucking his wings in close so they wouldn’t catch on a passing tree.

“You can stick around here for as long as you want to!” Tango declared, a grin in his words that Jimmy didn’t need to see to hear. “I’ve got plenty of blankets an’ food, and I can grab some more supplies from town in a few days–” He paused and shot Jimmy a sheepish smile. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Something beneath Jimmy’s ribcage fluttered at the offer, something warm and pleased and content.

“More than okay,” he nodded quickly. “That sounds amazing. You’re too nice, Tango, honestly–”

“Nah,” Tango waved him off, ducking just inside the cave and smirking toward the darkness. “It’s a fair trade-off for some pleasant company. Uh - here, hang on–”

There was a brush of something soft and warm against Jimmy’s wrist and he blinked, realizing belatedly what Tango was doing. The blazeborn’s tail had come up to coil comfortably around Jimmy’s wrist as a means to free his hands, the blond tuft of fluff at the end tickling against Jimmy’s skin. He huffed out a soft, amused chuckle, shaking his head at Tango’s silly ingenuity. Flickering flames illuminated the darkened space - flames fueled by Tango’s magic, which left Jimmy shivering at the familiar sensation of a spell through the bond - and when Tango turned around, a lantern in his hand, the light it cast caused Jimmy to stop short.

The cave was more expansive than Jimmy had first assumed. It wasn’t unending by any means, but the space inside was roomier than the small entrance would have implied. A cozy-looking cot piled high with blankets was pushed up against one wall, a large travel pack was dropped against another, and a small and slightly messy heap of clothing had been shoved toward the back of the cave. It was warm too, a lovely change from the chill of the evening air outside, and Jimmy’s wings relaxed against his back as the warmth seeped into his feathers.

“Welcome to Casa de la Tek!” Tango announced with exaggerated grandeur, grinning all the while. “It ain’t much but it’s home, for now. I was gonna move on in a few days now that the ravager kiddos are a bit stronger, but - hey, I don’t mind stickin’ around a little longer.”

“It’s cozy,” Jimmy said brightly. “How’d you find this place?”

“I’ve been around these woods before,” Tango said. He waved it off, beckoning Jimmy closer was a tug of his tail so he could fuss with the blankets on the cot. His blaze rods hovered nearby as though attempting to offer him some additional light to see by. “My old crew used to get jobs in the area all the time. I still do. There’s a larger cave about - oh, half a day’s walk to the north?” He gestured vaguely in that direction. “That’s my next stop, since it takes longer to get there when I’m herding the big fellas.”

“And what if there’s no caves nearby?”

Tango flashed Jimmy a grin.

“Well then I get to camp out under the stars.” He straightened, planting his hands on his hips. “Okay! I think I’ve got us sorted. Do you get cold easily?”

“Uh–” Jimmy blinked at the quick segue, then shook his head. “Not really. If I don’t have my wings out I can get chilly, but I like keeping them out. I’ll be alright with whatever blankets you don’t need.”

“With whatever - what?” Tango snorted. “No, I was gonna–” He jerked his thumb back at the cot with a sheepish grin. “I don’t mind cuddling if you don’t. We’ve gotta stay in contact anyway, right?”

Jimmy, who had mentally been planning on tying their wrists together between the cot and the floor for the night, gaped at the man who - until that afternoon - had been nothing but a stranger to him. Since that point, Tango had not only become more of a friend than Jimmy had anticipated, but had also been kind enough to be gentle when Jimmy had trusted him with his wing, provided a meal and safety without any prompting, and had forged a (surprisingly strong) magebond with him as well. All in one day.

And now he was offering to share his bed.

For all that Jimmy was a bit flustered at the prospect of sharing a bed with a perfect stranger, he also couldn’t deny that the offer was tempting. It would be warmer and more comfortable than the floor by far. And Tango had been a perfect gentleman the entire night. Hadn’t he?

He also wasn’t wrong. They did have to stay in constant contact, and Tango’s idea was an easy solution. Jimmy took a slow breath and made his decision.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his face feeling warm. “It’s your bed.”

“Uh-huh,” Tango smirked. “And I’m okay with sharing.”

Okay. Well. Alright then.

“I - yeah. Yes. I’m okay with that.”

“Awesome!”

As Tango had said, that settled that.

  It wasn’t nearly as awkward as Jimmy had suspected it would be either. There was a little jostling and maneuvering while they tried to accommodate Jimmy’s wings, but once they found a comfortable position, it all just sort of…clicked, and settled into place. Tango was sprawled on his back as close to the cave wall as he could get, his boots and vest abandoned on the floor, and Jimmy had done the same with his shoes and overshirt before getting comfortable on his side. One of his wings was trailing loosely off the bed, brushing the cool stone below, and the other had found its place draped over the both of them.

(Being a netherborn, apparently, meant Tango got cold easily, so he was grateful for the added warmth. No wonder there were so many blankets on the cot.)

At first, Jimmy had tried to keep as much of himself to his side of the bed as he could manage…but that hadn’t lasted long. It felt so natural to be curled close to Tango - a fact that he couldn’t be sure was related to the fresh bond or not - and soon enough their legs had become overlapped beneath the covers and Jimmy had a hand lingering over Tango’s heart.

Over his pulse, where Jimmy could feel it synchronizing with his own.

Magebonds this strong weren’t a thing to be taken lightly. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d have the strength to break it down the line.

(He couldn’t help wondering if he’d even want to anymore by then.)

“Hey, Jimmy?”

Tango’s whisper in the dark caught Jimmy’s ears and the feathers there flared. His eyes eased open to see Tango’s face turned toward his. They were so very close.

“Yeah?”

Tango grinned, a sleepy sort of thing.

“I’m kinda glad my ravager found you,” he said, quiet and teasing yet wholly genuine. “This magic stuff’s kinda nuts, but I’m glad you’re here anyway. It’s been a bit lonely the last few months. You’re–” Tango yawned, his eyes crinkling and warm barely-there sparks fizzling across his hair. The glow from the blaze rods hovering dimly above them rose and fell with a wave of gentle warmth. “...you’re…good people. Thanks for stickin’ around.”

Technically, Jimmy thought sleepily, he didn’t have much choice in the matter…but he knew what Tango meant. For some reason he had a feeling he would’ve lingered even if the bond hadn’t been forged. A sleepy warbling coo slipped past his lips and he sighed.

“I think I’m glad your ravager found me too.”

Tango’s grin widened, dopey and bright, and Jimmy let his eyes drift shut.

Like a fairy tale, his sleepy mind supplied. Soulmates, huh? Maybe he should ask Grian about that when he got home…whenever that ended up being.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As barely-awake awareness drew him to the land of the living, Tango crinkled his nose at having been woken up at all. He had never been a morning person, in truth. And for some reason he was even more disgruntled this morning in particular. The cot was colder than it had been during the night, and something in his chest was tugging at him to go - to go - do something. Go be…somewhere. Find something.

Tango grumbled and rolled over, burying his face in his pillows and letting his tail droop off the side of the bed.

He didn’t wanna do anything most mornings, so having some unnamed urge to do just that was…odd. It was strange. It was this curling, fuzzy little feeling in his chest, fluttering and almost feathery, right where Jimmy had said his core–

Jimmy. Jimmy!

Tango bolted upright at the sudden influx of memories from the day before and he scrambled to his feet - or he tried to. Instead, his legs became tangled in the mountain of blankets he’d been sleeping under and he ended up sprawling gracelessly and unceremoniously to the floor with a distinctly inhuman, strangled shout of alarm.

“...ouch.”

Well, good morning to you too, floor.

It didn’t do much to stop him, because it was only moments later that he was half-hopping to the cave’s entrance, fighting to get his boots on as he did so. He couldn’t see Jimmy. Tango squinted across the clearing, his ears flicking around to catch whatever sounds he could…but the massive golden wings that would’ve been so easy to spot were nowhere to be seen.

Weird. Jimmy had said he’d be sticking around, so why–

A twittering trill from overhead caught Tango’s eye, and he watched curiously as a tiny golden bird soared into the clearing, gracefully fluttering down to land on the blanket he and Jimmy hadn’t put away the night before. Tango eyed the little guy curiously for only a moment as it ruffled its feathers back into place. He was just about to look away to keep searching for his temporary camping buddy when a sudden golden glow began to emanate from the bird. The light grew, shifted, changed in shape - and between one blink and the next, the bird had been replaced by Jimmy, wings and all, with a windswept ruffle to his hair. He laughed brightly in the morning sunlight, a sort of immeasurable joy lighting up his face…and Tango couldn’t help but watch. He looked so happy, so free.

“I’ve had a bit of trouble with my familiar transformations lately,” Jimmy had said, only the night before. And yet…

“Well whaddaya know,” Tango murmured, leaning back against the cliff face beside the cave’s entrance with a soft smile. He watched Jimmy get to his feet and go over to the firewood, dragging some back to the pit and arranging it into the messiest campfire setup Tango had probably ever seen. He snorted. Oh, this guy was not a camper, was he? Tango cupped his hands around his mouth and raised his voice. “Hey, Feathers!”

Jimmy jolted, his wings puffing up in alarm - which Tango was beginning to find endlessly endearing the more it happened - and he turned around, his expression brightening when his eyes fell on his magebound.

(That was the terminology, right? Magebound…? It sounded right.)

“Tango!” He greeted, waving slightly. “Morning! I was just–” He gestured to the fire pit, then the log pile, then the kettle sitting off to the side, then brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “...I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Tango laughed, bright and raspy.

“Need a hand?” he offered, his eyes crinkling with his smile, and the look of relief that swept over Jimmy at the offer was palpable.

“Please.” His smile grew lopsided. “Maybe you can teach me something this time.”

Tango’s smile brightened to a grin and that spot in his chest he was beginning to associate with Jimmy warmed ever-so-slightly. Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. And if Jimmy was willing to stick around for even longer, then maybe Tango could learn a bit more about this whole magebond thing in return, before they broke it.

If they broke it.

As he crouched down beside Jimmy, straightening logs and branches and guiding him through building a proper fire, watching as Jimmy stuck his tongue out to focus, Tango quietly hoped that maybe they wouldn’t have to break it so soon. Or maybe, if Jimmy was willing, maybe they wouldn’t have to break it at all.

Yeah. Yeah, that sounded pretty nice to him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N: I can't tell you how much fun I had bringing this story to life! Magic systems have always been a fascination of mine, and the one for this universe - hah. If anyone is curious I'd be willing to go into a deeper explanation about how magebonds work and what the witch/familiar dynamic normally is, but at this point it's more important to know that it's a stand-in for the Double Life soulbond with a more by-choice twist. This whole AU concept started with Ren and Martyn, believe it or not, and one day I'd like to tell their story too. But we'll see where it goes! I have a lot of scattered and intricate ideas for this universe, and I think I'll play it by ear to see where my inspiration takes me.

As for our ranchers, I feel like their first meeting would've felt out of character if it hadn't involved a bit of chaos and a bit of clumsiness lol. Where in canon Tango was the one to bring them together by losing them their first life, I thought it would only be fitting for him to be the reason he and Jimmy meet here too in some similarly accident-prone way…though I do feel a bit bad that it was Jimmy who got the brunt of it instead of Tango this time. 😋 It's okay! Everything turned out for the better anyway! Many MANY thanks to Hybbat, Lemon_bread, and Automaticnerdbread for being my lovely betas over the past few months (especially Hybs, you know how many times I've popped into your inbox for Rancher insight lmao) - y'all have been amazing!

Oh! We also had a pair of really cool character sheets from Fantasykiri that didn't really have a place in the fic proper, so I feel like I should share them here in the endnotes instead! Be sure the check out all the artists who contributed their skills and talents to this story, and thanks so much for reading! Comments and critiques (and spelling corrections asjkbas) are always accepted!]

[The artists: @fantasykiri5 [Trapped] [Jimmy] [Tango], @joifee [Feathers], @aviomons [Magic], and @setacin [Campire]

[manyminded]

agere hermit!tommy (+ some reg hermit!tommy) headcanons!

I wanted to do just agere but I couldn’t help but set up Tommy’s character a little more…oops! headcanons under the cut

Season: 10 (timelines? I’ve never heard of her) When did Tommy leave dsmp?: After his revival Is Tommy a hybrid?: yes, moth :] Who’s a little & who’s a CG?: little!tommy, cg!hermits

like most h!tommy fics, tommy ended up in hc by accident. the hermits themselves weren’t really worried - it’s 27 to one, after all. but tommy was. He put up an impeccable fight despite having no gear + numbers disadvantage anyways.

eventually it smoothens out and he becomes a “temporary guest” on the server “until they can figure out what to do with him” (sure. sure)

he builds his base out of cobblestone right on the world border. it’s a castle. cobble, because it’s his favorite block, and on the world border for two reasons - he’s a little insecure, on this server of grand building feats - and to stay hidden. he’s still wary. it’s instinctive.

the builders LOVE his base!! btw!! sure it’s crude and not that refined but no matter how hard tommy tries to conceal his pride/passion, they can tell. they try to subtly come over, give him resources/pointers/encouragement, etc etc. tommy doesn’t trust it (he does appreciate it, secretly. he won’t admit that to anyone [let alone himself] however)

Henry and Shroud have revived themselves. They have the same thing as Jellie goin’ on. They’re Tommy’s support animals <3 he doesn’t know know that it’s them, at least not consciously, but he named them after the old buddies.

now for agere time! mwehehe

Tommy’s been going “small” for a while now. Probably since pogtopia? he doesn’t have the words for it, never really did, but it’s been happening. he knows he’s not supposed to, but he can’t stop himself. (involuntary agere baybe!!!) He has a lot of unhealthy ideas around it - thinking it’s bad, mainly. a weakness.

he tries to hide it from the hermits. only doing it in the privacy of his own base, clutching a worn blanket in stubby and calloused fingers. he wanders aimlessly, babbling nonsense to himself. he hides whenever people find him during these moments. (Henry & Shroud try and protect him during these times.)

the first to find him is Bdubs. He came over to give some materials, and found a Tommy that is remarkably not-Tommy-ish. He catches on quickly.

Do the hermits have the words for it, either? Probably not, no. But that doesn’t matter. They’ve been across many servers, thousands of worlds, seen all the whims of the universe. They’re no stranger to this, even if they don’t know the terminology.

Tommy is mistrustful about this. He’s hesitant about showing this side of himself. He’s weak in this state - easy to take advantage of.

But this is Hermitcraft. They wouldn’t do that! Even if Tommy hasn’t internalized that, it’s true.

Tommy’s little self kind of has the inverse character development that his big one does. When he first finds himself in HC, he’s loud and reckless as a coping mechanism. Does he ever entirely mellow out? Not really. But the calmness does whisper in the waves around him. On the other hand - when he’s little, at first, he’s shy and quiet. Downcast. But as he gets more comfortable around the hermits he gets louder, braver, outgoing, and very silly.

Some of his favorite activities with the hermits: hiking (he gets to go in the MUD!! and play with BUGS!! and WORMS!!), building, making food, putting on puppet shows/plays, and in general just having fun! (most of these he’s just watching them do stuff. but, like, you get it.)

Stuffed Animal OBSESSION. he didn’t really have any in dsmp, but now that he has the space to express himself, he’s having SO MUCH FUN. multiple rooms in his castle are dedicated to his collection. The hermits love indulging him.

thinks redstone looks so so cool, REFUSES to learn how it works. like woaw prebby. you’re explaining 2 me what it does? hell to you! hell for one thousand years!!

has a pallet for warm foods, especially when small. angel milk, oatmeal, baked goods, you know. the one exception is ice cream (yummy!) and maybe candy

wasn’t very touchy at first, but now that he’s more comfortable, EVERY TIME he’s around a hermit he’s glommed onto them. It can be subtle, like hand holding, but more than not he’s koala-ed onto them. He’s defined them as “safe” in his head, so now that he’s around them more, the closer he is to them the safer he is.

very talkative. not usually words? Just random babbling. It’s how the hermits find him small most of the time - he’ll send random sounds into the server chat. Like “bla ba ba?” or “meep mrrp. grgrbr. pffff bla bla!!! keee!!!” and people are like. oh he’s baby let me fawn over him. he’s constantly blabbering. and like yeah the chat is just text but you can babble over text.

bedtime is HARD. he HATES IT and gets VERY FUSSY. it has to be SPECIFIC and WARM and NICE and PRETTY or he will NOT close his eyes!!! every hermit has a different way of handling this. and if the specific hermit does it different than the normal way they specifically do it it’s an AFFRONT TO GOD!!!

love love LOVES soft things. stuffed animals? yes. but also blankets, pillows, clothing, and secretly… fur. any hybrid hermits who have some are amazing because of this. He’ll fawn over them for hours, just petting them over & over.

loves the stars/nighttime. will stargaze for hours. it puts him into a trance, basically. probably because of the moth thing but like you know the stars are pretty !!!

that’s all I have for now. I hope you enjoyed :] I wanted a better concluding hc but I couldn’t think of one </3

P.S. if anyone wants to add their own ideas please do so. Might do a pt 2 w specific hermits or w the rest of the bench trio if enough people like this

[featheredenby]

Cuteguy

“Right where are my manners, the name’s Cuteguy! Now do you want help or not?”

Written by: FeatheredEnby

Part Two of: Show Your Fangs

A superhero AU is Hermitcraft/Empires SMP/The Life Series

Scar had always, for the short time that he had it, enjoyed working as a superhero and protecting the citizens of Hermitopia, Empires City, and Lifetropolis from harm but recently things had gotten strange. He wouldn't necessarily say that it was in a bad way but The GFHA had only been started to combat regular crimes and take a toll off of the police. However soon after it had formed more and more antiheroes, vigilanties, and supervillains started to emerge. Just a month ago the first villain duo emerged calling themselves “The Dogwarts Duo” and the chaos continued as another villain emerged and declared that she was “The Faker”.

That is what had brought him, as Hotguy of course, to his current situation, with him staring down the dog hybrid known as “The Red King”, while bleeding from his leg and help being nowhere to be found. It would have been quite an interesting scene if he wasn’t the one in it, but of course he was. He was standing off with The Red King, a dog hybrid with brown hair wearing a golden crown and a red cape with white mountains maybe,  and The Red Hand, he couldn’t quite place what he was as his entire appearance was quite confusing as he had large bat wings but ice crystals growing all over his body and he was wearing a blindfold over his eyes with the same pattern as The Red King’s cape. There are quite a lot of confusing things about the duo but one thing was certain trapped in The Hand’s grasp is a young llama hybrid (who can’t be any more than ten) with the edge of an axe ever so gently pressed against their throat and in Hotguy’s hands there is a high tech bow nocked with an arrow with which he could easily shoot down The Hand and King in quick succession. There was just one thing if Scar shot The Hand in the head he would likely fall backwards killing the llama hybrid but if he shot him in the hand he would likely jolt forward and drop the axe at the same time, depending on the timing however the kid’s neck could get hit with the blade of the axe. There is really no solution, in his ear he hears a voice, “Hotguy, come in Hotguy.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Hurry up and shoot him. Cut your losses. One random kid’s death won’t end the world.”

“But I-”

“Hurry up an-”

The stern voice of the GFHA’s director is cut off as he hears a new one; it's familiar but he can’t quite place it.

“Thanks for breaking into the comms for me buttercup! Oh wait he can hear me already- hey there pretty boy. You seem to be in quite the pickle down there, need some help?”

“What the- who are you!?!” Hotguy replies. 

“Right where are my manners, the name’s Cuteguy! Now do you want help or not?”

-

On the roof of an apartment building stands an avian with dirty blond hair and a pair of black and yellow wings on both his back and where his ears would be, ink is dripping down his face. He wears a black tank top with a red and pink heart in the middle over it there’s a bright pink jacket with the same symbol and yellow tie dye patches, there is red ribbon functioning as a belt around his light pink shorts and later being used again to decorate his boots darker boots along with mini black wings on the ankles. Next to him is a red headed zombie in a simple pink crop top and shorts with a fluffy white headband, wristbands, and belt equipped with a pink leather pouch and a golden clock, on her head is a large white witch hat with a pink underside. She lifts up her head from viewing the scene below them and looks at him with a puzzled look on her face.

“Okay so as we just saw The Dogwarts Duo is here today, but how did you know that they would be?” She inquires.

“Oh, you know Cleo, I have good ways to get information.” He answers, it’s not like she’ll ever learn that they’re just chickens.

“Okay then, don’t tell me,” Cleo responds as she turns to face a pale man in a suit,”Are we almost into the system Mumbo?”

“Just about,” Mumbo claims,”so I would suggest that you two stop using our real names now as what we are doing is very illegal.”

“Aw you’re such a buzzkill,” he teases,”Anyways thanks for breaking into comms for me buttercup! Oh wait he can hear me already- hey there pretty boy. You seem to be in quite the pickle down there, need some help?”

“What the- who are you!?!” Hotguy asks. 

“Right where are my manners, the name’s Cuteguy! Now do you want help or not?”

“Uhm… sure I guess but I don’t even know where you are.”

“I can see you from where I am so there’s n-” Cuteguy starts to inform him before being cut off by The Red King.

“Oi! You have exactly ten seconds to drop the bow or the kid gets it.” He yells.

The Red Hand starts to count down, “Ten.”

“Well my undead friend.” Cuteguy says to Cleo.

“Nine.”

“Care to work some of that time magic for us?”

“Eight.”

“Uhm… Guys! What should I do?” Hotguy Panics.

“Seven.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Cleo responds.

“Six.”

“Should I just put the bow down?”

“Cast it on go.”

“Five.”

“Three, Two.”

“I’m just gonna drop the bow.”

“Four.”

“I’m about to drop it.”

“One.”

“Three.”

“Go!”

“||𝙹⚍ ᓭ⍑𝙹⚍ꖎ↸ ᔑꖎꖎ ⎓⚍ᓵꖌ╎リ⊣ ᓭℸ ̣ 𝙹!¡”

As she speaks her eyes blaze bright and time slows down, for everyone except the people she didn’t freeze, that is, those people being Hotguy, Cuteguy, Mumbo, the little kid, and her of course. 

“Hotguy,” Cuteguy yells while flying down from the roof,”you get the kid. I’ll take care of these two.” He says while gesturing at The Dogwarts Duo.

“On it!”

“Hurry up you two I can’t hold this time freeze forever,” Cleo yells,”!¡ꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑ|| ⎓∷𝙹⨅ᒷリ”

Hotguy runs over to The, now frozen, Dogwarts Duo and carefully moves away The Red Hand’s arms and Axe, after doing this he picks up the crying llama hybrid in his arms. Meanwhile Cuteguy lands on The Red King and tries to figure out what to do with the two of them, he could always just turn them in but where’s the fun in that. Maybe he should just tie them up and toss them in a dumpster in some random alley way. He’s about to ask Cleo for her opinion when he sees Hotguy comforting the kid that they saved.

“Shh. It’s okay, I’m here for you,” he says,”Now can you tell me your name?”

“I- I’m P-P- Pizza.” sniffles the kid.

It’s pretty sweet to see such a touching scene but as he looks back over at Cleo he can tell that she is struggling. He’s about to call out to her when the light in her eyes starts to flicker and fade. Normally this would be fine but he still hasn’t done anything with The Dogwarts Duo and Cleo looks like she’s gonna burst a blood vessel if she doesn't stop soon.

“!¡ꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ⎓ᔑℸ ̣ ᒷᓭ, ╎'ᒲ ʖᒷ⊣⊣╎リ⊣ ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣  ꖎᒷℸ ̣  ᒲᒷ ꖌᒷᒷ!¡ ⊣𝙹╎リ⊣ ᔑ ꖎ╎ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ꖎᒷ ꖎ𝙹リ⊣ᒷ∷,” Cleo casts desperately,”Guys I can’t hold it any longer!”

“Please try, I still have to do something with these two.” he replies.

“I can’t, the fates won’t allow it, in fact they’re not too fond of time magic in the first place. 𝙹リᒷ ᒲ𝙹∷ᒷ ᒲ╎リ⚍ℸ ̣ ᒷ, !¡ꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ. I can only hold it for another minute, knock those two out and put them in an alleyway or something.”

“Okay!” he yells back.

Cuteguy goes over to the side of the street and grabs two sizable pieces of debris, he then flies back over and drops one on each of the duo’s heads. He then picks them both up and flies them over to a dumpster just as he had originally planned. He then flies back up to the roof, “well team ready to bounce?”

“╎ℸ ̣ 'ᓭ 𝙹⍊ᒷ∷.” Cleo says ending the spell, “Yep, let’s go.”

“I’m ready, this has all been quite an awful ordinal.” Mumbo adds.

“Okay then, bye Hotguy! See you soon.” Cuteguy calls in a singsong voice, and with that the three of them headout to get some rest as Hotguy returns Pizza to his family and goes to fill out a report.

-

As just as Grian got home his phone started chiming, he takes it out of his bag and sees that the person calling him is his roommate, Scar. Knowing Scar he probably needs a ride back from whatever client he was meeting with for a landscaping job, so Grian answers in a singsong voice,“Hello, Scar!”

“Hey, G. I was just wondering if you saw the news today?” Scar inquires.

“Nope, I haven’t seen it yet,” he replies but he does know what happened, as he lived it,”Did something interesting happen?”

“Yeah, so you know who Hotguy is right? Well he was fighting the Dogwarts Duo and they kinda ended up in a stalemate when they threatened a kid.” Scar explains.

“Oh… that’s awful.” Grian replies trying to sound surprised.

“I know,” Scar says,”but then some new vigilante hacked into the GFHA’s comm system and said that his name was Cuteguy. Then some random timewitch froze time for everyone except him, Hotguy, and the kid.”

“Wait what?”

“Yeah it shocked me to hear that too, according to Hotguy, the spell wore down really quick so Cuteguy just knocked the duo out and threw them in some dumpster.”

“So they’re still a threat?” Grian questions Scar.

“I mean I guess but they were both knocked out so it’s likely that they’ll turn up again any time soon.”

“I guess so.” He replies.

“Anyways,” says Scar,”I was wondering your opinion on the vigilantes that have been popping up.”

Oh no, Grian was not expecting Scar to ask that. How was he supposed to sound convincing when he is one of them, along with the fact that he has no idea what Scar’s perspective on it is. What was he supposed to say, “Oh yeah, I think it’s awesome, in fact you should know that I am Cuteguy!” that is not happening. Maybe he should just ask a question back to deflect having to answer. “I don’t really have one,” he lies,”what about you?”

“Oh,” says Scar as if not expecting Grian to want his opinion,”I don’t really mind it if they’re helping but it is illegal.”

“Yep, that’s kind of the definition of vigilante.” Grian responds.

“Maybe it would just be better for them to join The GFHA.” Scar continues.

“Well they might not agree with its ideals,” Grian argues,”and in any case they aren’t causing any harm.”

“True. True. Anywho I just wanted to call and get your opinion, by the way can you feed Jellie for me tonight?” 

“Sure,” Grian agrees,”but why exactly?”

“Oh, you know… I’m just helping Joel with something.” Scar answers in a voice that tells Grian that he’s lying through his teeth, but Grian doesn’t question it.

“Okay then,” Says Grian,”see you later Scar.”

“Later G.” With that Scar hangs up.

Grian is fine with Scar being out in fact he doesn’t even mind that Scars obviously lying, this just gives him an opportunity. Tonight Cuteguy would go out again to protect Hermitopia and get on the government’s nerves. Tonight he would make a name for himself as Cuteguy the infamous vigilante.