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frozenjokes · 16 hours

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From The Crew Of The Flying Jellie, Our Final Moments. Signing Off.

IMPULSE - PEARL - GRIAN - MUMBO - SCAR

Scar, pirate captain of The Flying Jellie, murders his crew for seemingly little to no reason, betrayal and anger keeping the members of boatem from truly moving on. This fic contains blood and violence and your blorbos not being very nice to each other

Impulse couldn’t stop staring. He couldn’t stop staring at his body, slumped forward, the only evidence of the slash through his throat being the cold blood that still leaked out from under his limp, hanging head.

Dead. Well and truly dead. Why- damn it. He was so stupid.

But was he, really? Stupid? Scar had surprised him, slipping in and shutting the door behind him. Scar hadn’t even looked particularly different, not beyond those gently narrowed eyes, tightly pinned frown, and of course, the dagger in his right hand, knuckles white around it.

But that didn’t make sense. It did not make sense. Of course Scar would have come to check on Mumbo, Mumbo who was-

For the first time, Impulse managed to tear his eyes away from his own corpse and toward Mumbo’s.. well, Mumbo wasn’t quite a corpse yet, was he? Yet. This wasn’t- no..

Of course Scar, their captain, the captain of The Flying Jellie, would have come to check on Mumbo. Mumbo, who had fallen from the crow’s nest, his body cracking against the deck enough to jolt the rest of the crew awake in the early morning. Mumbo hadn’t screamed, but Scar had, Scar had wailed, and Impulse had been the first person out of the crew’s quarters, Grian like a flash behind him, slowed to second only by his fever. Impulse would never forget the way Grian shrieked, pushing past Impulse in a flurry of limbs and collapsing at Mumbo’s side, right under where Scar was standing, frozen stiff.

Shock, surely. Scar had been in shock. That’s why he was just standing there, staring, not doing a thing.

Impulse remembered peeling Mumbo from the splintered floorboards. Mumbo was alive, he was still alive, shallow and quick as the breaths were. He remembered Grian trying to help, getting in the way, clawing at his arms. He remembered Scar yanking Grian back, screaming at him, and it was so damn cruel, Impulse remembered thinking how cruel Scar was acting, but he hadn’t had the breath to speak.

“Scar.” That’s what Mumbo had said, so quiet, Impulse could hardly hear him over the rain- yes, that’s right, it had been starting to rain.

Presently, Impulse turned away from his corpse, from Mumbo, and faced the door, now swung wide open. It was raining harder now, much harder. It was so dark. Impulse heard a gunshot. Grian screamed. And only then, Impulse saw Pearl as she flinched, previously hidden by the shadow of a few large crates, invisible in her stillness. Impulse shut his eyes.

Mumbo’s eyes had been wide open when Impulse had scooped him off the ground. Mouth hanging open, chest heaving to speak words that would never leave his chapped lips. Mumbo hadn’t been looking at Impulse, even when he was cradled in Impulse’s arms, when looking elsewhere would have been such a strain. Mumbo wasn’t looking at Grian either, which Impulse had previously thought he’d been trying to do. Impulse thought Mumbo wanted Grian as a comfort, that the screaming match beginning to erupt over the broken floorboards was distressing him greatly. So Impulse had taken him away from it all, back to the crew’s quarters, out of the rain where it was warm and comfortable until they could get back to land, get Mumbo to safety.

“Sca..” Mumbo had uttered the words a second time when Impulse laid his limp body across his bed. Mumbo’s last words. Scar’s name.

Impulse didn't think Mumbo was trying to look at Grian anymore.

He turned away from the open door where the rain was beating down on the deck and back to Mumbo. Still alive. Still breathing. Impulse hoped with all his heart that Mumbo wasn’t in pain.

It had been fine before. Impulse had no doubt that Mumbo would be okay, and everything would be alright. Just as soon as Scar and Grian stopped screaming at each other, it would be fine, because Scar was a doctor, he had an extensive history in medicine apprenticed under his father- Scar was a doctor, and he could save Mumbo’s life without having to go to land.

Impulse had been so angry. So, so angry as he sat by Mumbo’s bedside, listening to Scar and Grian tear into each other- this was not the first time they had fought, and it wouldn’t be the last, but couldn’t they see that now was not the time? Mumbo was- he wasn’t- Mumbo was going to be okay, but they needed Scar. The only thing stopping Impulse from going out there and breaking them up himself was Mumbo- he couldn’t leave him here, not alone, and he hadn’t seen where Pearl had gone. He only prayed she would snap the two of them out of it.

She didn’t have to.

Scar hit him. Impulse didn’t know how he was so sure that Scar had hit Grian, Scar wasn’t- well, Impulse wasn’t about to say he wasn’t violent. Scar had his moments, but never with his crew, and for all his disagreements with Grian, they were just as close as the rest of them. But there was just something about the snap of skin, Grian’s silence, Scar’s continued fire- Impulse remembered how shaken he’d been. He was just so scared.

But he hadn’t- he hadn’t been afraid when Scar entered the crew’s quarters. He had been so.. Relieved. Because Scar was here, and Mumbo was going to be fine.

Impulse wasn’t sure if he screamed. He didn’t think so. It just happened too fast, and he couldn’t stop staring at Mumbo (staring at Scar) and suddenly he was being pushed and something sharp had grazed the hairs across the back of his neck. Instinct had him rolling away, he’d been in fights before, he knew what to do, just not-

Impulse was a better swordsman than Scar. Many pirates were; so long as you didn’t get caught up in the charm, the talk, Scar was distractable, his footwork was clumsy. Scar knew his weaknesses, and played to them well, but his closest allies knew exactly how to beat him, and when it came to a spar, Impulse and Pearl and even Mumbo from time to time could beat Scar easily-

Scar knew it. Of course he knew. So he caught Impulse off guard, let him fumble around the crew’s quarters before holding him by the shoulder and cutting his throat in the corner of the room.

Impulse never had a chance.

Had- had Mumbo seen it? Seen him die? Suddenly, more than anything, Impulse wished Mumbo was dead. Wished the fall had killed him, instant, painless, and that he wouldn’t have to see this.

Mumbo’s eyes were still open. Lidded now, but open, looking.. directly at the place Impulse now stood. The realization stopped Impulse in his tracks, paying closer attention, meeting Mumbo’s eyes. Mumbo met his. Looking..

Mumbo was looking outside. The door was wide open, and Impulse was simply in the way. It was raining so hard now there wasn’t much to see out there, but Grian was still screaming. Could Mumbo hear it? A crack of thunder drowned out all other noise, and when Impulse turned back to Mumbo, his eyes were closed. Not dead, not yet. But maybe.. hopefully soon.

(One way or another, Mumbo wouldn’t have to hear Grian much longer. This, Impulse had no doubt.)

Grian.

Impulse wasn’t sure when exactly he had died, but it wasn’t right away. He remembered the feeling of Scar’s breath against his forehead, the soft half-chuckle that held no sound. He remembered when Scar had taken a step back, flipping the bloodied dagger in his fingers as he turned to Mumbo with the same murderous intent. That’s when Impulse saw Grian. Impulse was sure he was still alive then, when their eyes met. When a shuddering breath was pushed from Grian’s chest, halfway between a sob and a scream.

“Ah.” Scar hadn’t sounded alarmed when he turned around, caught literally red-handed. “Well that’s unfortunate, isn’t it?”

Grian ran, slipping on the slick boards, and Impulse couldn’t quite remember if Grian spoke or screamed, but Impulse must have died soon after, because he did remember Scar’s face, expression pinned in a disturbing display of disappointment. Disappointment. Impulse was sure of it, even more when Scar spoke, quiet words for no one else but himself, “Come on, now.”

And then he sighed, flipping his pistol from the holster on his hip, an actor’s flair. “Sorry, Mumbo, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait. Won’t be long now, though, promise.” And then Scar had left, kicking open the door and shooting into the air, seemingly for fun. And that’s when Grian had started screaming. Scar had fired one or two more shots since then, but the noise from outside was so shrill, Impulse couldn’t tell if Scar had hit his mark yet, or if he was just playing around.

Impulse sat at the side of Mumbo’s bed. He didn’t.. he didn’t know entirely what he was, or why he was still here. He was bleeding, even in death, and the choking sensation remained ever still. He did not move.

He didn’t know what was happening outside with Grian and Scar, and maybe Pearl. He didn’t know if he wanted to. But he did know, no matter what, that he would be here with Mumbo if no one else could be. He would stay, so that in a world so suddenly horrible, Mumbo would not have to die alone.

by the way, if you didn’t know, this is a rewrite of one of my first fics, and if you’d like to read the original or anything else from the series, you can do so here

#cw: violence #cw: death #cw: blood #hermitcraft #pirates smp #impulsesv #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #pearlescentmoon #mumbo jumbo #boatem #boatemghostsau #hermitfic

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