#grumbo month | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudwhisper23 · 2 months

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Back into Grumbo Month (12 days late, but that's irrelevant). Since I had no idea how to do this prompt, I kinda winged it, but I am very pleased with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy! Check out the event creator's blog @grow-bettah too!

Day 2: Alternate Universe

The light was flickering again. Grian glared at it as he ate, knowing that any attempt he could possibly make to solve the problem would only make it worse. He’d probably electrocute himself in the process, actually.

Pearl would tell him to hire an electrician. Someone who would fix it easily while Grian focused on his degree. The degree that Grian seemed to change his mind about every day.

He had taken an electrical class a few years ago, back when he was going to major in interior design and architecture. Like most of his endeavors, it hadn’t stuck.

But the flickering light… Grian scowled. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take a tiny peek? Something had to be messing with the circuit, surely.

A few minutes later, Pearl arrived, a vaguely familiar man in tow. Pearl brought home a librarian. Not just any librarian though. She’d brought home Mumbo Jumbo, the man Grian had been going to the library to catch glimpses of for the past few years.

“I found an electrician willing to take a look, Grian- What are you doing on the table?”

“Oh dear,” Mumbo said quietly.

Grian glanced over, his face quickly warming up. “Umm… I thought I could fix it myself?”

“You are more accident-prone than anyone I’ve ever met. Put that light bulb down, and get off the table.”

“Yes ma’am,” Grian replied weakly.

Mumbo took over after that.

Pearl shook her head. “How did I know you were going to do this?”

“Family intuition?” Grian guessed. “Or maybe you just know me.”

“You took one class. One.”

“I didn’t get myself killed,” Grian said defensively.

“But you could have,” Mumbo interjected, eyes darkening. “Look, mate. You didn’t even turn the light off.”

Grian rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a second lecture.”

“You’re going to give me grey hairs.” Pearl shook her head.

“You can just pretend they’re silver. Give you a fancy aesthetic.”

“Hmm.”

“All done,” Mumbo flicked the light back on, and it no longer flickered.

“Brilliant!” Grian grinned. “That light was driving me mad.”

“It would drive anyone mad.” Mumbo fiddled with his mustache. “Next time something like this happens, how about you call me, yeah?” He offered Grian a business card.

“How much-“

“No charge. I’m not actually legally allowed to do stuff like this. It’s a hobby more than a career.”

Grian didn’t know what to say to that, so he glanced down at the business card. “Electrical work as a hobby?”

“You’re a freelance photographer who does three years of a degree program before changing pathways. You can’t talk.” Pearl elbowed him.

“Right, okay. I promise to not do any more electrical work without consulting you first.”

Mumbo raised an eyebrow. “Not what I was going for mate.”

“I won’t do any more electrical work?”

Mumbo nodded. “And if you have any problems, call me.”

“Yeah, sure.” Grian pocketed the business card.

Running to the library to get a book for class was nothing new for Grian. He was more than familiar with the place, and more than once he’d been jokingly offered a job as an assistant.

But Grian wasn’t ever just here for a book.

Looking around, it wasn’t as easy as Grian had initially hoped to find Mumbo. Sure, the man was tall, but that didn’t mean anything in the library. The shelves were even taller than Mumbo.

“Excuse me,” Grian said to the woman at the counter. “Do you know where I can find Mumbo Jumbo?”

“He doesn’t work today,” she replied easily. “Can I take a message for you?”

“No, thank you.” Grian set his book on the counter. “I need to check this out, though.”

“That I can do.”

Grian walked out of the library slightly disappointed. He’d been thinking a lot lately. A bit too much about his encounter with Mumbo if he was honest with himself. He was a mystery to Grian. Why would a librarian offer to fix a flickering light in a house he’d never been in before?

He couldn’t imagine it. Still, even without knowing how to solve the mystery of Mumbo, he had things to do.

The bakery was warm, as it always was. Scar didn’t ever seem to stop baking, even though his shop had closed hours ago. He smiled at Grian, dropping a plate of cookies on the table.

“You seem busy.”

“Not as busy as I could be,” Grian replied, taking a cookie. “You need to stop feeding me free samples. I’m going to get pudgy.”

“But that’d be a crime! Besides, these are experimental cookies.”

Grian looked at his friend skeptically. “No. These are the cookies you make when you’re stressed out.”

Scar’s smile thinned into a line. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“What happened, Scar?”

“I… may or may not be living out of my bakery. But! It’s not because I lost the house or anything. It’s just…”

Grian tilted his head. “What is it?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the wiring at home. Nothing at all! I just… I can hear it, Grian, and I can’t hear it here. It’s easier to sleep when I can’t hear it.”

“Have you called an electrician?” Grian asked.

“They can’t hear it, so they tell me nothing is wrong. And everything works just fine. It’s ridiculous.”

The business card in Grian’s pocket felt heavy all the sudden. He dug it out, typing the number into his phone and dialing before Scar realized what he was up to. “Grian, don’t-“

“Hello?” Mumbo’s voice came through the phone.

“Hi, Mumbo. It’s Grian. The guy you fixed the light for last week?”

Scar raised an eyebrow. Grian made a face at him.

“Ah. Haven’t electrocuted yourself since then, I see.”

“Not as if I haven’t tried,” Grian replied with a faint smile. Scar munched on a cookie, watching with amusement. “Are you busy right now?”

“Another electrical problem? Or do you need my services as a librarian?”

“Electrical problem.” Scar shook his head, a smile gracing his face. “Got a friend who has something weird going on. Noisy wires.”

“How odd. I’m not too busy right now. Could you send me the address?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Grian told him the address and packed up his stuff. “We’re going to get this sorted out, Scar.”

“Mumbo Jumbo, huh? He’s some kind of electrician as well as a librarian. You certainly don’t pick the easy ones,” Scar replied, but he helped clean up.

“Shut up, Scar.”

Mumbo considered himself to be a patient man. He could help sort out a mess in the library or come up with a new, albeit complicated, way to solve any electrical problem he came across. It all just took time, and Mumbo was fine with that.

He did not realize that no one would be home when he went to the address Grian sent him. Idly, he leaned against the wall, trying to hear the noisy wiring he was meant to be fixing.

There wasn’t a sound to be heard.

Frowning, Mumbo pressed closer to the wall. Maybe it just couldn’t be heard unless you were in the house? Or maybe it was a higher pitch, and it was just harder to discern.

Mumbo pulled a small device out of his bag and fiddled with it for a few minutes. The light on the side of the box lit up when Mumbo brought it closer to the house. So, there was a noise. It was just one that Mumbo couldn’t hear.

“Wow, you’re fast. Mumbo, right?” An unfamiliar man came up the sidewalk alongside Grian. “I wasn’t expecting you to get here before us.”

“I did say I wasn’t busy,” Mumbo replied.

“Not busy usually doesn’t mean ready to leave at a moments notice,” the man pointed out. “And you’re all dressed up! I’d hate to have torn you away from something important. Especially considering how I told Grian it wasn’t a big deal.”

“If you keep avoiding going home like this, Scar, it is a big deal.” Grian shook his head, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “Just let him try.”

“I did identify an odd frequency, even without going inside,” Mumbo replied, grateful about the subject change.

He didn’t want to mention that he’d been stood up on a date and really needed something else to think about. Grian’s phone call had come at the perfect time, really.

“Wait, really? You’re better than the other guy I called about it. Thanks Mumbo!” Scar was already beaming, green eyes twinkling.

Grian rolled his eyes. “He’s done the bare minimum, Scar. I don’t think he’s going to leave just after figuring out there is a problem.”

“Well, he’s the first one to believe me.”

“I believed you.”

“I know you did, Grian. But you have to believe me. Oh, Mumbo, do you want a cookie?”

Mumbo blinked. There was suddenly a tin of cookies in his face, and he couldn’t help but recoil slightly. “Um-“

“Give the man some space, Scar.” Grian snorted, a faint smile on his face.

Mumbo couldn’t help but stare. He’d found the man attractive the first time he’d met him, standing on his kitchen table with a light bulb in his hand and static electricity making his hair stand on end. But seeing him in other contexts was incredible as well.

He wanted to be the one to make Grian smile.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Mumbo set to work on figuring out what was making the noise that drove Scar out of his home. He got familiar with the sound of Grian and Scar holding their own conversation in the background.

“This is amazing,” Scar said softly as Mumbo double-checked his sensor. “The sound is completely gone.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Mumbo replied, walking over to the sink. “Do you happen to have dish soap I could borrow?”

“Oh, right, yes.” Scar set the soap out. “How much do I owe you for this?”

“I don’t charge,” Mumbo replied.

“I still owe you something for this. Do you accept cookies? Oh! I can buy you dinner or something-“

“That won’t be necessary,” Mumbo pointedly did not glance over at Grian. “I’m happy to help.”

“He didn’t let me pay either,” Grian said.

“How very kind of you, Mumbo Jumbo.” Scar continued to smile. “Really. Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?”

“It is no trouble at all.”

Scar shook his head. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Tell you what, have a tin of cookies. Freshly baked from my bakery! On the house.”

“I couldn’t-“

“He bakes as a hobby as well as his job. You’d actually be helping him by taking some,” Grian said, glancing up finally. He had an amused smile on his face as he stretched in the chair. “There’s only so many times he can send me home with four containers full of cookies before it’s my problem as well as his.”

“Yeah! You’d be a huge help if you took some. Really.”

And so, Mumbo left the house with a tin of freshly baked cookies. Feeling a little disjointed, he turned and stared back at the house. Scar waved at him.

Scar was texting someone when Grian made it to the bakery the following week. “Finally join a dating app?” Grian asked.

“Haha. No. I’m talking to Mumbo.”

Grian paused, his bag barely over his head. “Do you have more issues with the wiring? Are they being loud again?”

“Don’t be silly, Grian! Mumbo is my friend.”

“You’ve known him a week.”

“Yes, but I’ve known you much longer. And you happen to have a type.”

Grian’s face burned. “I’m not-“

“Look, Mumbo seems like a great guy, from what I can tell. He’s just a tad lonely, that’s all.” Scar took Grian’s bag and set it on the table. “You can’t tell me you haven’t at least thought about it.”

“First Pearl, now you. Is a man not allowed to focus on his studies?”

“Come on, G. The only time I’ve ever seen you focused is when you’re taking pictures. You don’t even need a degree to be happy.”

“Yet you think I need a boyfriend.” Grian glanced skeptically at Scar. “What are you two even talking about?”

“Passed relationship failures. Did you know he was actually on a date when you called him?”

“What?”

“Well, not an actual date. The man he was meant to be meeting up with stood him up. We rescued him from a sorrowful night, Grian. Which you would know if you’d followed up like I did.” Scar grinned at his friend.

Mumbo had been on a date? It certainly explained the suit and tie. Grian shook his head. “Don’t be silly-“

“Grian, you’ve been pining after this man for years. Years! And now you’ve talked to him and have his phone number. It really couldn’t hurt to try, you know.”

Grian didn’t have a comeback to that one. He pointed at Scar, “If you tell him-“

“Wouldn’t dream of it! But I will keep bothering you about this if you don’t act on it.” Scar messed with the zipper on Grian’s bag. “He asks about you a lot, you know.”

“No he doesn’t,” Grian replied, refusing to believe it.

“How would you know? I’m the one who’s friends with him.”

Grian found himself scowling the next day. He couldn’t get what Scar said out of his mind. Was he overthinking this? It wasn’t like there was much of a friendship Grian could destroy at this point.

Going to the library would certainly be more awkward if he tried and it didn’t work out. Maybe he would just give up on college if that happened. He did already have an apartment and a job, after all.

Lost in his thoughts, Grian didn’t notice when someone sat down across from him. “Associated Press? I thought you were a photographer.”

Grian jolted, his knee banging against the underside of the table. Pain flared up his leg, but he ignored it to stare at Mumbo. Mumbo, who’d picked up the styleguide Grian had been staring blankly at.

“I am a photographer,” Grian replied slowly.

“So you’re just curious about everything then, huh?” Mumbo’s mouth curled up in a smile as he slid the book back across the table.

“Something like that.” Grian shrugged. “I’ve only changed my major half a dozen times.”

“That’s right. Your sister mentioned that when I was fixing your light.” Mumbo tilted his head. “Indecisive?”

Grian shrugged again. “That does appear to be the case.”

“Did you ever try photography as a program? There’s an excellent photography program in the journalism department.”

“Hence the Associated Press styleguide. I am majoring in Journalism. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Mumbo nodded, straightening his tie. Wait, he was wearing a tie? Grian blinked, taking in the outfit. Mumbo typically wore button-ups, sure, but the layering he’d done today made it seem like maybe something else was going on. This was more dressed up than Mumbo typically was at the library.

“Got a hot date later?” Grian asked, half as a joke.

Mumbo blinked. “Oh, I don’t think so. The last time I tried dating, it didn’t go so well.”

“Scar said you told him you were stood up,” Grian replied, suddenly curious for more details.

Mumbo shifted uncomfortably. “Yes. But I suppose I wasn’t counting that time. At least then my night ended with a tin of cookies.”

“That’s Scar for you.” Grian shrugged. “Glad we were able to take your mind off it, at least.”

“Yeah…” Mumbo shifted again. “How about you?”

“Not really looking for anyone,” Grian answered. He fiddled with the stylebook, avoiding looking at Mumbo.

“Fair enough. There are some strange people out there.”

“But you never really answered my question. Why are you all dressed up today?”

“Ah. That. Well, I have been once again pressured into attempting to go on a date.”

Grian looked at Mumbo, surprised. “Is this some kind of family obligation? Scar and Pearl are always pressuring me to go on dates, but I never really feel too bad about not going.”

“Ah. I suppose I need to learn how to get around Scar, then. He’s the one who pressured me into this, really.” Mumbo scratched his neck, seeming even more uncomfortable. “Another blind date. Hopefully it goes better than the last ones I’ve been on.”

“You don’t seem to have much hope of that,” Grian remarked, silently fuming at Scar in his head. This was the quickest way to make Grian jealous, and Scar knew it.

“I’m trying to be optimistic, for Scar’s sake, but it feels like this will never go well, even if he seems to think he can help in some way.”

Grian shrugged. “If you’d been more careful about how you approached this, you could’ve pretended to have a partner.”

“Yeah, but Scar was so genuine when he asked me about myself. I didn’t realize he was a matchmaker who had been failing to make matches!”

Mumbo glanced around. “Actually, maybe it’d be best to leave the library for this conversation. Don’t want to get into too much trouble.”

“Probably for the best.” Grian packed up his things. “Hang on. Are you implying it’s my fault you’re stuck with a date tonight?”

“Maybe.”

“Harsh words, mate.” Grian pressed his mouth into a thin line. “And to think I was going to help you brainstorm ways to get out of your date.”

“You were?”

“I don’t know… maybe I should leave you to suffer.”

“But you know Scar better than I do. Surely you could-“

“Just because I could doesn’t mean I will.” Grian clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. Mumbo wasn’t in a good enough mindset for the date to go anything more than terribly. He was going to suffer for a few hours, sure, but that was the price he had to pay to lean into this a bit more.

“Please?”

“Maybe next time. If you aren’t blaming me for all your problems.”

“I’m not blaming you for all of my problems. Just the Scar related ones.”

Grian snorted. “That’ll become a majority of your problems if you’re not careful. I’ll sit this one out, thanks.”

“Grian!”

“Mumbo.” Grian finally let his grin loose. “Disappointed that you can’t pressure me the way Scar can pressure you? I’m unbreakable.”

Mumbo blinked, stopping in his tracks. He just stared at Grian for a moment. Grian paused as well. “What? Is there something in my hair?”

“No, I just thought of something. I have an idea for how I can get out of my date! Thanks, Grian!” Mumbo patted his shoulder and hurried off. And if Mumbo was blushing a little bit as he ran, Grian didn’t see it.

“Scar.” Mumbo said, slightly out of breath. “I can’t go on the blind date tonight.”

“You can’t? Why not?” Scar continued wiping the counter.

“Because whoever you’re setting me up with won’t compare to Grian.” Mumbo’s face burned as he said it, knowing this was a risky move.

Scar paused to look at him. “You’re interested in Grian?”

“I am. So, I cannot go on that date tonight because it wouldn’t be fair to them.” Mumbo swallowed harshly.

Was it too soon to say he was interested in Grian? Was it too early in his friendship with Scar? Would Scar tell Grian what he said? It was a risk, but Mumbo accepted that. Every encounter he’d had with Grian just made him more interested in the man. He’d give it his best shot if Scar decided to pressure him into taking action.

“Well, that’s good news! I’d hate to send you on a date with him if you weren’t remotely interested.”

What? Mumbo blinked. And then he blinked again. “The date tonight is with Grian?”

“Of course, of course.”

“How’d you manage that? Grian told me he’s not interested in dating.”

“He’s not. But Pearl and I can be really sneaky when we want to be. If I’m honest, he doesn’t actually know he’s going on a date with you tonight. It’s a surprise!” Scar grinned.

“What if this ruins how he views me?” Mumbo scrunched his eyebrows. “If he’s tricked into going on a date, he’s going to suspect that I had something to do with it.”

“Oh, no. Not at all. Grian’s a smart cookie, and he’ll know it was all me and Pearl. Well, mostly Pearl since this whole thing was her idea, but he won’t blame you for it. Promise.”

“Alright…” Mumbo hesitated. “If this goes badly, you’re going to owe me a lot, buddy.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.” Scar sighed. “If this goes badly, you understand that Grian will also be mad at me for being a part of it. I have nothing but hope that this will go well. For all of our sakes, Mumbo.”

Mumbo’s mustache twitched, but he tried to relax. Only a few more hours. You won’t mess this one up.

“What are we thinking for tonight?” Grian said absently, putting away his camera bag.

“I have reservations for us at that new restaurant downtown.”

“Reservations?

“You were the one who said we need to experience the community more. So, I’m not cancelling.” Pearl wrinkled her nose. “You would’ve ordered fast food if I hadn’t done it. This is significantly better.”

“Uh huh.”

“Actually, it’s about time that we head there. We will need time to order, after all.”

“Sure.” Grian ran a hand through his hair. “Good enough?”

“It never gets better for you,” Pearl replied.

“Hey!”

Pearl dragged Grian downtown rather quickly. “I made the reservation in your name, by the way.” She glanced at her phone. “You can go get the table. I need to take this call.”

“Right.” Grian shifted uncomfortably, but he walked into the restaurant, grateful it wasn’t too formal.

“Reservation for two. Under Grian?”

The server nodded. “Back here.”

Grian studied the menu, thinking about what he was going to get. He knew Pearl would expect him to pay this time, as she’d paid for the last meal they’d shared.

“Hi.”

Grian nearly jumped out of his skin. “Mumbo?”

Mumbo gave him an embarrassed smile. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Sorry.” He pulled out the chair across from Grian.

Grian put the menu down slowly. “They didn’t.”

“If by that you mean Scar managed to successfully set us up on a blind date with each other, then yes, they most certainly did.”

“Pearl…” Grian pressed his palms into his eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.”

“Neither of us did, mate. But if it makes you feel any better, I bullied Scar into paying for dinner.”

Grian’s hands retreated. “You did?”

“I told him that it’s his head if this goes wrong, and if it goes badly because we start arguing about who is paying for it, it’s completely his fault.”

“Wow.”

“I aim to impress,” Mumbo replied cheekily.

“You certainly did that.” Grian blushed slightly. “So, this is a date, then?”

“Afraid so. We have to at least try. For Scar’s sake, of course.”

“Of course.” Grian swallowed harshly.

After the initial moments where they both struggled to come up with things to say, the date went well. The food was good, the conversation was good, and Grian could almost convince himself that Mumbo had blushed at his attempts to flirt.

Eventually, the night came to a close, and Mumbo offered to take him home.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, Mumbo.”

“Isn’t it?” Mumbo smiled mischievously. “I believe it is my duty as the man who took you on this date to also be the one to take you home.”

“Don’t be cheeky. The reservation was in my name.”

“I still want to take you home,” Mumbo replied.

Grian’s face burned, but he still shook his head. “If only I was willing to make it that easy for you.”

Mumbo put his hand on Grian’s shoulder. “Well, if I can’t take you home, I can at least do this.”

Grian looked up, preparing to ask what exactly Mumbo meant by that when Mumbo kissed him. He froze, unsure how to react for a moment before melting into the kiss. Mumbo’s facial hair tickled his face, and Grian quietly loved it, using Mumbo’s tie to pull him even closer.

Mumbo laughed against his mouth when they pulled apart briefly. Grian pulled him right back in for another one, and Mumbo made a delighted noise as Grian’s hand wove its way into his hair.

“Scar’s going to be so smug about this,” Grian said quietly, nestling up against Mumbo on his couch.

“We’ll never be free of the teasing,” Mumbo agreed.

“He’s been trying to convince me to ask you out for years at this point,” Grian replied.

“Has he?”

“Yeah. I spent too much time in the library for Scar to not get suspicious. And he knew you were my type.”

“Ah.” Mumbo’s face grew warm. “So, when you called me, he knew exactly who I was then.”

“Yep.” Grian made sure to pop the ‘p.’ “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he figured out how you felt about me until you told him. Otherwise, I would’ve heard about it.”

“I was very aware of that, believe me. I think he was starting to figure it out though. I asked about you way too much.”

“Very suspicious,” Grian mused. “But very worth it, don’t you think?”

Mumbo wrapped his arms around Grian to squeeze him in a tight hug. “Very worth it indeed.”

#grumbo month #grumbo #hermitshipping #grian #mumbo jumbo #pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar #cloud writes

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thetomorrowshow · 1 year

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normal is relative (love is love)

Hola folks! if you weren't aware, i am on hiatus! however despite completely cutting myself off from social media, i haven't stopped writing. i wrote this last week and emailed it over to my bestie and beta reader, afternineattheoasis, who is now posting it here and on tumblr for all to enjoy. otherwise, my queue should post every second tuesday of the month until i'm back :)

"And, I was just wondering . . . um, I—oh, this is just—I can't do this."

Doc raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Try again," he said.

Mumbo sighed, adjusted his tie. "Right. Well, I was just in the neighborhood—in the neighborhood? I've never said that in my life, I don't know—"

Doc harrumphed loudly. "Again."

"Okay." Mumbo took a deep breath. "Hi, G! Uh, I was—I have, I mean, or, or, I want? Look, it's—we're, we're good friends, right?"

"Stop."

Mumbo, gratefully, stopped.

Doc watched him for a moment, eyes roving over Mumbo, from his head to his toes. Mumbo stood there, awkwardly, just waiting for him to say something. Anything. Any piece of advice.

"Lose the tie," Doc said eventually.

"I—what? What? Lose the—lose the tie?" Mumbo sputtered. "It's—I always wear a tie!"

"It feels too formal. Take it off."

"That's absolutely ridiculous," Mumbo said. "I don't see how that's supposed to help me."

"I don't see how I am supposed to help you," Doc said. "What do you want from this? Why me?"

Well, Mumbo had thought that was obvious! Why would he go to anyone other than Doc?

"You're the only other aspec person I know," he said, pushing up his sleeves. That felt awkward. He pushed them back down. "I figured, because you and Ren have your—your—"

"Our QPR?" Doc supplied.

"Yes! Yes, that. Well, you and Ren have feelings for each other, and your relationship is a QPR—"

"I do not have feelings for Ren," said Doc, nose wrinkled. "Ren has feelings for me, and I like his feelings."

"Oh. Right." Mumbo blinked a couple of times. He was pretty sure that's exactly what having feelings was, but okay. "Um, well, how did you confess? Or how did Ren confess, I guess? Like, how was it different from confessing other feelings?"

It was Doc's turn to blink, a slow action, his robotic eye spinning circles around in his head. "Different?"

"Yes. How is—" Mumbo patted his pockets, a tic he'd developed some time ago that he did when he was searching for a word or trying to explain something— "How do you confess feelings of like? Isn't that—isn't that weird?"

"I do not understand."

Mumbo bit his lip. Doc had to be messing with him. "Well, like, a love confession is normal. But, well—a platonic confession? And asking to be in a QPR? That's weird."

Doc frowned. "It is still a love confession, Mumbo. Love is love. Platonic, romantic—just two different loves. All deserve a confession."

"Well, sure," Mumbo waved, "but it certainly isn't normal."

"Normal is relative," grumbled Doc. "Nothing is normal."

"Something—some things are normal, and—"

"Ask Zedaph what normal is to him. And then ask Joe. And then ask Keralis. They will all have different answers. Normal is relative."

He shouldn't have tried to argue with Doc. "All right, but, but a committed platonic relationship is not normal to Grian. He could—"

"I don't understand," Doc said. "You care about him, yes?"

Well, yes. Mumbo did care about Grian. He cared about him very much.

But what if Grian felt differently? What if Grian didn't want a committed platonic relationship?

What if Grian wanted more?

What if Mumbo was wrong about everything? What if he didn't actually want a QPR? What if Mumbo wanted more?

"Do you think," he said slowly, "that I might actually want a romantic relationship but I just don't know it? Like—I've never felt this with anyone before—before Grian. Maybe, maybe I actually want to date him, but I don't know it because I don't know what romance feels like and—"

"Do you want to kiss Grian?" Doc asked, one eyebrow raised.

Mumbo felt a bit of revulsion for a second, just to imagine such a thing. That would weird, a total violation of the relationship they have. "No."

"Do you want to woo him?"

That got the same feeling. "No, no—I—"

"Do you want to play footsie under the table and giggle about it?"

Mumbo actually almost gagged. "No, that sounds—"

Doc held his hands up, a look of satisfaction on his face. "There you are. I do not think you have romantic feelings for Grian."

Mumbo wasn't so sure that was a definitive test, but it did help a little bit, in reassuring his identity. He'd been identifying as aromantic and asexual for as long as he knew they existed, but his recent feelings for Grian had made him start to doubt his entire existence. It was good to have that little confirmation.

"Right," he said, still turning Doc's words over in his mind. "Okay. So—but what if Grian doesn't like . . . the idea? Of a, uh, not-romantic relationship?"

Doc sighed. "Mumbo, why are you so afraid of platonic love?"

That—he wasn't afraid of platonic love! He was just—just nervous, he supposed. Nervous that—nervous that Grian would be. Absolutely not afraid.

"Love is love. And besides, you really just want to . . . ah, put a label on your relationship, yes?"

"Well, yes, and also—make it committed? But what if Grian doesn't want—what if he wants a romantic relationship, not with—not with me, with someone else, and I don't—and we're a, uh, platonic couple? And I'm not comfortable with that?"

Doc waved his robotic arm. "Relationship. Such a messy word. Relationships are . . . ah, transitiatory, I suppose? They develop, and change, day to day. Especially in a mixed-orientation relationship, like the one you want to be in."

Mixed-orientation relationship. What, because Grian was alloromantic and Mumbo was aro? Or would it mean something else entirely?

"What exactly is a mixed-orientation relationship?" Mumbo asked hesitantly. "Just to, er, make sure we're on the same page."

"Something like what Ren and I have," Doc explained patiently. "Ren is alloromantic. I am not. Ren has romantic feelings for me. I am fine with it. He knows that I do not return them. It involves much communication, and our boundaries change frequently. That is what you want, yes?"

Not that Mumbo knew what to expect, but that sounded like something that he wanted. Maybe not the whole bit about Ren having romantic feelings anyway. Mumbo didn't really like the idea of Grian wanting that sort of relationship, and Mumbo not being able to provide.

"Does it ever get—is it ever hard, to know—or, does, er, when Ren wants things you don't want, is that hard?"

Doc stared at him for a moment, clearly trying to parse out the question. He chuckled suddenly, crossing one leg over the other.

"Right, I forgot that you're asexual also," he said, still chuckling. "No. No, Ren and I never have that problem."

That was probably too much information. Mumbo could've lived without knowing that. He could feel his ears heating up, like they always did when he got embarrassed. Change the subject change the subject—

"Um, right then. But, like—did you ever feel bad that you can't, you know, return his feelings? Give him what he wants—in like, a feelings, romance sense? You know?"

Doc, again, sighed. "Mumbo Jumbo, my platonic . . . er, love for Ren is not worth less than romantic love. They are equal, if different. You must understand that before anything, yes? There is no love greater than another. All love is worthy of love."

Mumbo knew that. He really did. He knew about love, and the different kinds. He had learned that being aspec didn't mean broken, just different.

Why couldn't he keep it straight when it came to Grian?

"I think I'm just having a hard time with this today," Mumbo said eventually. "I know this stuff. Like, remember when Joe signed us all up for that gender and sexuality conference so that we could learn how to use Cleo's pronouns? I went to the, uh, the aspec panel, and they talked a lot about that. And I've also just . . . just read about it online. So I know—I know that you're right. I know this. It's just hard. You know?"

"Ah, I remember that conference," Doc said, gazing off into the distance with what was either a fond or a disgruntled expression. "Some racist man threatened me. The fun thing about threatening a part-creeper is that you're sure to lose."

Mumbo really didn't like Doc's smile. Maybe it would be best to return to the main subject.

"Another thing I'm scared about—"

"Another thing? Mumbo, how many fears can one have about this?"

Mumbo laughed self-consciously. "Well, well, I've—I've got a lot, so just—buckle in, bud. Another thing is what if . . . well, what if he says no? And then he thinks it's weird, that—that—that I feel that way. And he doesn't want to be friends anymore. Then what?"

Doc stared at him. "You are making things up now."

"No, I'm—this is a genuine fear! I just want to be—"

"Mumbo," interjected Doc, "when Grian first joined, I thought you were in a QPR."

Oh.

Well, Mumbo rather liked that. He and Grian already gave off QPR vibes? That was—maybe not, not great, but it made him feel kind of proud.

"Of course, others on the server assumed it was romantic," Doc continued. "My a-dar has never been wrong."

The others thought—?

Mumbo could deal with that later.

"I don't think it counts as an a-dar if I already came out to you, mate," Mumbo pointed out.

Doc waved. "Potato, potato."

"Those were the same potatoes."

"Mumbo Jumbo."

Mumbo sighed, properly looked up at Doc. When had his eyes fallen to his shoes?

Doc stared into his eyes as he spoke. "If Grian is worth anything, he will never stop loving you. Understood?"

Mumbo didn't argue this time. Doc was right. And Mumbo knew Grian. Even if Grian rejected him and it was a little awkward for a while, nothing would change.

He took a deep breath. He could do this.

"Right. So let's say I'm going to confess right now. What do I do?"

Doc, again, surveyed him up and down, robotic eye moving slower than his natural one, from Mumbo's shoes to his hair.

"Lose the tie."

Mumbo didn't lose the tie.

He did loosen it, though, on his way out of his tree, after doubling back to check himself out in the mirror.

Doc was right. It felt too formal, too much like he was inviting Grian to a dinner party rather than asking a close friend if they wanted to change their brand of friendship.

So he loosened it, then left to find Grian.

Grian was meant to really get some progress done on his alley build today (because of course they shared a calendar, how else would they ever get anything done?), but Mumbo didn't see him passing by, so he headed instead for Grian's starter base.

There was no one there, either. Grian must have been out mining or something. Which kind of sucked, really, because Mumbo had just gotten up the nerve to actually talk to him. Now he would have to do it all over again—spend a day hyping himself up, an hour getting ready, skip breakfast so that he doesn't throw up, et cetera—another time. After all, since Grian wasn't here at the exact time Mumbo planned, everything had entirely fallen apart and nothing that day would work because Mumbo hadn't prepared for it.

He turned to go, trying not to look too dejected. It was fine! He was fine. It was all going to work out, and everything—

"Mumbo Jumbolio!"

Grian landed in front of him, elytra clicking neatly together on his back. He smiled, big and sunny and welcoming.

Mumbo felt a bit weak in the knees. And not because—not because he loved him, or anything, but—

No. He did love Grian.

"What are you sneaking around my house for?"

"Just—just looking for you, dude!" Mumbo said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Any suspicion cleared from Grian's face instantly, even though Mumbo probably sounded like the most suspicious person ever. Instead, Grian just turned away and started walking, so Mumbo hurried up and fell into step beside him.

Instinctively, Mumbo slowed his pace, matching the stride of Grian's shorter legs. Grian started chattering about some builder thing like block palletes or something that Mumbo automatically tuned out. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear about block palletes—he was trying to become a better builder, after all—or that he didn't want to listen to Grian talk, he was just kind of busy not having a panic attack. Breathing exercises kind of took up a lot of his mental capacity at the best of times.

They arrived, somehow, at the Boatem Hole. Grian sat down on the edge of it, swinging his legs back and forth, still talking.

Mumbo didn't really like to sit at the edge of the Boatem Hole. He always felt like Impulse or Grian would be right behind him, ready to shove him in.

He sat down, anyway. He needed to have this talk with Grian right now, or else he'd chicken out.

"—right?"

Mumbo turned to Grian, trying not to look too much like a spoon.

Grian raised an eyebrow. "Were you even listening to a single word I just said?"

Mumbo swallowed. Loudly. Audibly. That swallow was probably heard by Grian. That was awkward.

How was he supposed to casually transition to his intended subject? He hadn't planned for small talk! He'd kind of just planned to turn up on Grian's doorstep and give his whole spiel!

He had to leave. He had to get out of there, regroup, and come back in five to two-hundred business days with an actual plan.

"Oh, your tie's all messed up—here, let me—"

Mumbo went perfectly still, heart pounding, as Grian started messing with his tie, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth just the tiniest bit.

They'd hugged before, and cuddled, and just generally hung on each other. But this, somehow, felt like it meant something more than anything else. Like Grian knew what Mumbo was here to say.

Or assumed. Or maybe assumed that he was going to suggest a romantic relationship, because fixing someone's tie was generally considered romantic, right?

Mymbo didn't know. He hoped desperately that Grian couldn't hear his heartbeat.

When Grian finished, he sat back, surveying it with a frown.

Grian actually ended up making it worse, Mumbo realized, as he looked down at himself. The back part was half poking out, the collar stuck under part of it. The tie itself was not really any tighter than it had been.

"I know how to tie a tie," Grian said, eyes narrowed. "I don't know . . . what went wrong."

"I'm aromantic," Mumbo blurted out.

Grian blinked, looking a bit taken about. "I know?"

Right. Grian did know that. How could Mumbo save this?

"I'm asexual."

"I . . . know that too?"

Okay. He could still save this. He could still make it work.

"Well, I don't—I'm not really looking for a romantic relationship, because of, because of that—not that every aspec person feels that way, but, but I do—" he was such a spoon— "so I don't want to date, not like—not like that, not romantically, but, like, if you would be all right with it, maybe platonically?"

Silence.

Grian half-turned his head away, then back, a look of utter confusion on his face. "Run that by me again?"

Oh, dear.

"Right," Mumbo said, ears on fire. "Um. Would you be interested in a—er, in a committed platonic relationship?"

Grian stared at him for long moment. Mumbo kind of wished he could shrink down to the size of a frog and hide under a rock. Not something that would be very practical or logical for most situations, but definitely something to work on.

Maybe he could put Zedaph on it.

"It's okay if not," Mumbo said belatedly. "Like, it's mostly an aspec thing, so if you aren't comfortable or—"

"Oh, like a QPR?" Grian asked, face clearing of his confused stare when Mumbo nodded. "Okay, I think we're on the same page, now."

Mumbo nodded several times. "Great," he said stupidly. He wasn't sure what else to say. What else he could do to keep his heart from being shattered.

"Wait—you're asking me—aw, Mumbo!" said Grian, a silly smile spreading across his face. "Of course, I'd love to!"

No way.

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes—

Streamers, confetti, a big sign rolled out that read 'he said YES' in big letters—

Mumbo, who was so busy celebrating in his mind, almost forgot to pay attention to Grian, who had begun speaking again.

"So, I don't really know how this works? So maybe we can have a sleepover tonight and do some research and stuff?"

Mumbo nodded vigorously. "Yes! Yeah, of course!"

"Because all I really know—you remember that gender and sexuality conference that Joe had us all go to, the one where Doc got us all kicked out on the second day? Well, before we had to leave, I went to the aspec panel—well, you were there, of course, we sat next to each other—and they talked a bit about QPRs there. But that's all I know."

He said yes.

Grian didn't do any of those horrible things that Mumbo had laid awake imagining, he hadn't rejected him or laughed at him or broken their friendship or tried to kiss him or anything.

He said yes. He said he wanted to learn. He said—oh, he was still talking—

"—that they have, but I imagine it'd be a bit different?" Grian was saying. "Not just because you're a different person from Doc, but because you probably have different needs than him. And me from Ren. Right?"

"Right," agreed Mumbo. "Yeah, of course, dude. Er—"

"Dude feels weird now," Grian said, brows furrowed. "Do we get, like, new cool nicknames and pet names?"

Mumbo had been thinking about the same thing last night. "There are a few," he said. "I mean, names are names and no kinds of names ought to be restricted by anything, so if you—if you wanted to try some, we could—but there are a few that already exist. Um, QPP? Like Queer Platonic Partner?"

"QP Partner," said Grian thoughtfully. "Cutie Partner. I like it. Anything less formal?"

"Um, datemate? Because we're like—just mates on dates, mate." That was so awkward why would he say that why would that come out of his mouth— "And, um, Zucchini? That's one—"

"Zucchuni!" Grian exclaimed, actually clapping his hands together. "You're my Zucchini, Mumbo Jumbo!"

Mumbo could have sworn his heart flew straight out of his chest.

This was so many new developments. Everything was changing all at once—in a good way, of course, but Mumbo kind of needed a moment to scream into a pillow and try to not have a panic attack. Or maybe just have it and get it over with.

But he didn't really want to leave Grian to go do that. Not while Grian was so excitedly redefining their entire relationship.

And as if he could read his thoughts, Grian took a deep breath and sat back.

"You probably need a bit of time to process, yeah?" he said.

Grian knew him so very very well. They had been best friends for years, after all.

"That would be wonderful," he said gratefully. "I'll, um, meet you for our sleepover?"

"I'll come over once the sun starts setting," confirmed Grian. "Don't be afraid to come find me if you need me earlier than that. And I'll text you in an hour or two, all right? Just to make sure you're doing good."

Mumbo nodded, heart bursting. Grian was like that, always remembering his anxiety and helping to remind him that he's cared about.

He said yes.

Mumbo was officially in a QPR with his best friend.

He really did need to go cool down for a little. He felt like he was going to jitter out of his skin.

"Well, er, good talk!" Mumbo said lamely, standing and helping Grian to his feet. Grian sent a brilliant grin his way.

"Absolutely, datemate," he said, before suddenly pulling Mumbo into a hug.

Mumbo was never going to get used to this. He was in a QPR, for goodness' sakes—he was in a relationship!

He needed to get used to it, honestly. He wasn't sure he could stand this level of jitters every day.

He would have to tell Doc that his tie suggestion did absolutely nothing, Mumbo thought to himself as he headed back to Treesa. All that happened was Grian tried to fix it, and it halted all conversation, and gave Mumbo the chance to confess, and. . . .

Well. Maybe Doc was right.

Who would've thought?

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