#Grumbo fanfic

[thefireintheshadow]

He’d done it. He’d gotten his mending book.

[authors note: this seems like a cute little fic about grian and his mending book but it is in fact a dark mafia fic jsyk…]

Grian couldn’t believe it had finally happened. It was so surreal that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

He went through the motions of cleaning himself up. It felt good to shave, see some color on his cheeks. Even his eyes were brighter.

When he returned to the dock to clean up all of his fishing gear, there was a silhouette in the setting sun. He couldn’t make out who it was, a broad frame almost haloed in glittering red.

“Hello, Grian.”

He squinted. “Beef?” As he grew closer, he could make out the source of the glittering, a suit that appeared to be crafted from salmon scales. “Wow.”

“Been doing a lot of fishing lately?” Beef asked, running a hand up one of the pillars of the little hut.

Something felt off in Grian’s gut. Something in his friend’s tone felt…predatory. It couldn’t be. This was Beef. He was one of the sweetest guys around. “You could say that,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “But I’m all good now, got my mending book.”

“Is that so?” Beef cocked a brow, and stuck both hands in his pockets, as if on a casual stroll. Something in his gait screamed danger, though, and was this just too much time spent in death games? Was this overflow from Secret Life and Demise and—

Beef stopped on the block over Grian’s storage room. No.

“Why don’t you come on downstairs?” Beef asked, but it was hardly a request. “Because somehow I don’t think you’re all good.”

He pulled out a handful of seeds and composted them, disappearing through the floor.

Grian’s pulse thundered in his ears. What the hell was going on? How did Beef find out about his secret area? And what the hell was up with that suit? His head spun.

On the surface this would look like a fun prank. A bit.

But it didn’t feel like a bit. It didn’t feel fun.

He didn’t want to go down there.

But something told him he needed to, some instinct buried deep. Though surely Beef just wanted to make a deal for something in the chests down there, right?

Heart hammering, he composted and dropped down.

But there was nobody there. His guts twisted. Beef meant down downstairs. This was getting weirder and weirder, and that sense of danger felt sharper and heavier.

He dropped down into the cave and his heart ceased to work.

He couldn’t quite register at first the tableau in front of him. His gaze zeroed in on Mumbo’s face, beautiful skin marred by blood and tears.

“Grian! They’ve gone-” Mumbo cried, but his words choked off on a scream as a sickening snap echoed and suddenly time seemed to stop.

Grian’s ears buzzed, as if no other senses other than his sight were capable of working at a time. Mumbo was on his knees, hands behind his back, face twisted in pain. Skizz stood behind him, muscled arms gleaming as he took the kneeling man’s disheveled hair in one of his fists.

Skizz didn’t look quite right, though. His eyes were too big, almost bulbous, and too far apart. His face shone with what Grian had at first thought was sweat, but no, it was as if his skin were made of…scales? And nowhere was that soft, sweet, fun-loving Skizz energy. He looked maniacal. A maniacal, half-mutated fish man.

And Beef. Beef in his salmon-scaled suit, still cool as a cucumber, hands in his pockets, watching the scene with detachment.

Grian sucked in a deep, ragged breath as his lungs screamed for air, and time seemed to start again, his brain somehow catching up with the fact that he couldn’t just watch the scene forever.

“Walk with me, Grian,” Beef said, strolling towards the redstone door.

“No!” Grian cried, his entire body quivering. “What are you doing to Mumbo? Skizz!” He took a step forward, but in a flash, Skizz jerked Mumbo’s head back, exposing the tender flesh of his throat, and pressed a glittering diamond sword against it.

“I already broke his wrist, want another lesson?” he warned, and something was wrong with his voice, it sounded so distorted.

“My associate here will take good care of Mumbo,” Beef said as the door opened. “I’d like you to show me this room.”

Grian swallowed hard, staring at Mumbo with desperate eyes, the man he cared about most in this world, the man he’d do anything for. Somehow, somehow he’d fucked up and now Mumbo was in pain and there was fucking nothing he could do. Why hadn’t he brought any weapons down here? Why hadn’t he acted on his instincts up there…god.

A drop of crimson beaded on Mumbo’s throat, and he hissed in pain.

“You’d better go, your little friend has thin skin,” Skizz warned gleefully.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Grian said, forcing his feet to move, one in front of the other, towards Beef, towards the door…away from Mumbo. “Please stop hurting him.” The words came out so disgustingly weak sounding, and he hated it. He wanted to press his thumbs into Skizz’s mutant eyes until they popped out of his fucking head, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything.

Skizz lowered the sword at least, and Grian scurried after Beef into the manifest room.

“Tell me about this,” Beef said once the door closed behind them, spreading his arms.

“It’s my…my manifesting mending room,” Grian said, and it sounded so stupid now. He had to admit he’d gone a little batshit with all of that fishing, with his obsession. What did this have to do with Beef and Skizz, though?

Beef pursed his lips, shaking his head. “It looks to me like a cod-worshipping room,” he said.

Grian’s blood rushed through his ears. Was this what this was all about? Types of fish? “No, they were just, easier to build statues of,” he insisted. “The color palette-”

“I don’t believe you,” Beef snarled, and his blazing anger was so jarring after being calm for the entire exchange. “Big Cod is trying to get a foothold here and my employer is not going to let that happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Grian asked, head spinning. “This is literally just for me, you can see my painting at the other end-”

“I saw the painting,” Beef interrupted, turning his back, clasping his hands there, walking down the platform to look at the painting in question. “Quite an expensive piece, for a fisherman.”

Grian scrubbed his hands down his face. “Well I’m not just a fisherman-”

“No, you’re not,” Beef said, whirling on his heel. “You know, my original thought when I was tasked with eliminating the cod threat was just to blow this whole thing to hell with you inside it.” He raised a finger. “But I thought, no need to make such a mess. I think I can bring you to heel with the right motivation.”

As if in cue, the redstone door opened, and Skizz dragged Mumbo in, shoving him back to his knees. His nose was freshly bleeding, and he looked about to collapse completely.

“Beef, please, whatever you think this is, it’s not,” Grian begged, whirling back towards him. “I swear I don’t know anything about…big cod-I just-”

There was a thump and Mumbo groaned.

Grian whirled again as Skizz pressed his boot against the man’s back, shoving him into the floor.

“Stop hurting him!” Grian cried, turning back to Beef. “Please, what do you need me to do? Just stop hurting him!”

Beef reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar – since when did he smoke? – and flicked a zippo, taking his time lighting it evenly. He puffed, then tossed the zippo over his shoulder, landing it neatly at the bottom of the painting.

It went up quickly. Grian watched the flames, swallowing hard. He was happy to trade the painting for Mumbo’s safety, but it was still hard to watch it go up like that.

“Since you have your mending book, you won’t be needing that anymore,” Beef said, smoke trailing as he strolled up the walkway, free hand back in his pocket. “And since you’re certainly not working for Big Cod, you won’t need this room anymore. Dismantle it. Destroy it.” He pointed at Grian, cigar smoldering between his fingers. “I will be checking. And you don’t want to have this meeting again, do you? Who could I motivate you with next? Gem? Or how about Scar?”

Grian shook his head vigorously. “No, you don’t have to motivate me, I’ll do it.” He took a step back. “Please, just let Mumbo go and I’ll do it right now.”

Beef patted him on the cheek, chuckling as the sickly-sweet smoke made him cringe. “Yes you will,” he said, and stalked past him, snapping his fingers on his way by Skizz. “Kill him.”

Grian screamed, launching himself towards them, but he was too late, Skizz stabbed Mumbo through the back of the skull and Grian landed on the hard floor, next to the bundle of bloodied ropes left behind.

“I don’t want to see your face on the surface until it’s done,” Beef said as Skizz crossed the threshold. “Or else.”

The door closed, leaving Grian alone and sobbing on the floor.

[read on ao3]

#I couldn’t help it #hermitshipping #grumbo #hermitblr #hermitcraft #brainrot #fanfic #hermitcraft fanfic #grumbo fanfic #big salmon #big salmon fanfic #ao3 #dark fanfic #dark salmon #salmon mafia #what are these tags idk

[thathermitweirdo]

I think my greatest accomplishment in writing fanfiction is coming up with a title for my Grumbo vampire au, that ends up spelling BAT (Blood And Tears). It’s small things like this that make me happy

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fandom #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitweirdo writes #hermitcraft au #mumbo jumbo #grian #vampire mumbojumbo #vampire mumbo #vampire au #grumbo fanfic #grumbo #grian x mumbo

[logosbot-tm-fics]

Soooo...I'm back-

Enjoy!

Take My Tea With Formaldehyde

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Chapter 15: Feeling Lighthearted

(More beneath the cut)

It was like a breath of fresh air to discover that things could get easier. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise him. Maybe it should have been obvious that he didn’t have to live in this quiet sort of misery any more, but it still feels as though it took Mumbo by surprise. It surprised him that doing things was easier. That it was easier to exist and actually feel like a human.

Having a clean apartment felt like a restart. The same way it feels like a restart when you finally shower after being sick, as if cleaning out the dirt had also cleaned up his mind. Getting back into routines, going to work, and taking care of himself was strangely easy. As much as he felt relieved about how simple it was, it also bugged him slightly. Things had changed, and it barely felt like it.

Maybe that was for the better.

As the days passed, he discovered small things that were suddenly a lot more convenient. Like finding stuff in the flat. Before, he had to go through piles of belongings that seemed to appear out of nowhere, but now everything was where it was supposed to be.

It was easier to get the energy to do the dishes, when he only had a small amount to do. Same went for doing laundry.

He had stopped sleeping in front of the TV, and had moved back into his bedroom. No longer did the blue light keep him awake, no longer was it his only company and, somehow, falling asleep in a clean room went quicker than in a messy one.

~

It was most likely not just the clean flat that made him feel better. Sure, it had definitely helped a lot, and had made day to day life a lot less overwhelming, but other things had to have helped as well.

The thing that had probably helped the most, the thing that felt like it was going to make the biggest difference, was that Mumbo was finally getting a therapist. It had been a long time coming, when he really reflected on the way that his mental state had declined so dramatically over the past months, but he hadn’t been ready. Maybe he still wasn’t, not to take that step by himself, at least.

Luckily, he had Iskall.

Iskall hadn't nagged him or forced him to get one. But they gently reminded him that it was an option whenever the opportunity arose. They helped him look, when he finally started to consider it, and reminded him to take a break when searching for options became too overwhelming. It took a little bit, but, eventually, the pair found one that seemed right.

Mumbo thought that it was a bit funny, in a way, that just trying to get help could be overwhelming. It’s just odd really, he would chuckle, that your mind wants to fight against getting the help you need.

That strange urge to run and hide from the help he was seeking was the clearest when Mumbo almost backed out of the first appointment. His legs had felt like jello, knees shaking like he was wearing shorts in a snowstorm. He hadn't been able to wipe the sweat off his palms, and his stomach had made him feel like throwing up what little food he'd been able to eat that day.

It was frightening, he had realized as he bit on the inside of his cheek. Getting help felt terrifying.

Hell, what would happen if it didn't help? What if the therapist thought that he was being silly? What if it turned out that he actually didn't have any issues, and functioned perfectly well, and was just making up stuff for attention? He must be blowing it out of proportion, right?

He was stuck on the kitchen floor for a little while, trying to force himself to calm down. He had sat down in a corner of the kitchen, a cup of tea he'd been meaning to drink cooling on the counter, his phone in hand, held with a desperate grip.

Mumbo chewed nervously and frantically on the inside of his cheek as he tried his hardest to breathe. He tried to run through all the various breathing exercises that he’d been learning, but nothing seemed to work. By the time that he bit at his cheek hard enough to draw blood, he finally managed to unlock his phone to call Iskall.

“Hallo?” Their voice erupted from the speaker, crackly and warped. “Iskall speaking.”

This was stupid. Childish even, Iskall surely would think so too. Mumbo's mind was telling him to hang up, he shouldn't have called. How can a grown man not get himself to go to the scheduled appointment? He was utterly ridiculous.

“Hi,” he forced out, blinking back the tears that were surging forward at the awful weight of his thoughts. “Um, it's Mumbo, I'm really sorry for calling, but I'm kinda, sorta- uh- on the verge of a breakdown?” Mumbo tried to be proud of himself for pushing through the feeling of hang-up-god-dammit-you-are-being-ridiculous that was spreading rapidly through his body and mind, but it was too hard. Everything was just too hard.

“Oh-” Iskall replied after what was probably only a couple of seconds, but still managed to feel so sudden that Mumbo almost jumped out of his skin. From the concern in their voice, he could vividly picture an Iskall with furrowed brows and downturned lips, and his hands only shook harder at the knowledge that he was causing them such concern. “Are you… hm, is there anything I can do to help?”

Mumbo nodded, fully aware that they couldn't see him. It made him feel even more stupid. “Yeah, uh- this is stupid, I'm sorry, but could you please come over?” He gasped, his chest tight. “I mean you don't have to, especially not if you're busy, but it would make everything just a tiny bit easier. I'm really sorry, you don't have to, I'm just panicking, it's silly, sorry.”

He heard Iskall let out a small, kind laugh, something so reassuring that he could’ve melted right then and there. “Hey, don't apologize, I asked if I could help. I'm currently not doing anything too important either way, so…” They went silent for a second. “I should probably be able to be at your place in about uh, forty minutes, I think? Is that okay? I just have a few things to finish up before leaving.”

Relief flooded Mumbo, rushing through him like ocean waves, calming after a storm. "Yeah, yeah, that'd be fine."

"You sure? I could maybe get to your place sooner, but-"

"No no, it's fine. I can wait," Mumbo responded, breathing calmer.

“Okay, I'll be there in a bit then,” Iskall replied, their voice even and calm. “Bye for now.”

“Bye.”

If Mumbo had to be honest with himself, he absolutely hated waiting. It usually paralyzed him, left him in a terrible stasis of sitting around and overthinking every possibility. However, this time it almost felt nice to have some time to gather himself before Iskall showed up.

During the forty minutes he spent waiting, he spent five of those sitting on the kitchen floor. Then he spent ten minutes laying on the floor instead, when it got difficult to breathe again. It took him a while to be able to stand up, his legs still feeling far too weak to even try, and he had lost track of the time when he eventually managed to get to his feet.

He took it slow, breathed in and out carefully, and leant on the counter with a shaky step forward. It wasn’t much, but still, he felt just that little bit better.

Mumbo glanced at the clock as he put his, now cold, cup of tea in the microwave, silently setting the timer and watching the seconds count down. He breathed in time with that too, using the boxy numbers as a reference for each inhale.

He flinched again when it beeped, despite his eagle-eyed focus on the timer, before slowly pulling the steaming cup out from inside. The last few minutes before Iskall’s arrival were spent sitting at the table just cradling the warm cup. He still felt too anxious to be able to drink it, but just holding it and letting the warmth put feeling back into his fingers was relaxing.

Then finally, the doorbell rang. A wave of silence filled Mumbo's head, his mind calming down a lot more. He had company now, Iskall was right outside. They’d listen to his worries, they’d take care of him.

Still a bit shaky, Mumbo made his way to the front door.

~

Iskall ended up sitting at the table with Mumbo for a while, as Mumbo vented his anxiety about the appointment. They didn't judge him, nor tell him that his anxiety was irrational, even though it surely was, they just listened in silence.

“You know, you don't have to go to therapy if you don't want to,” they said when Mumbo eventually ran out of steam, slumping back into his seat like a marionette with its strings cut.

He couldn’t stop himself from staring wide-eyed at the other for a few long moments, just watching Iskall’s expression, trying to understand exactly what they thought of him. “I-I know,” Mumbo settled on eventually. “I just…it feels like it would help. Even though I'm worried that it might not, or that I'm just exaggerating how I'm feeling, I feel like I should try.”

Iskall hummed in understanding. “I see, well…if you want - just as a suggestion - I could go with you?” They leant back in their chair as they took a sip of their tea. “I'd wait outside, then we could go for a coffee afterwards, and you can decide then if you'd like to go to another appointment.”

They paused for a moment, giving Mumbo a breath to process what they were suggesting, before pushing on.

“That way, you’ve given it a go. You’ve felt what it's like, and you can properly figure out if it's for you.” They nodded confidently, setting their teacup down with a quiet clink. “Also, it’d give you the opportunity to see if the therapist we’ve found is right for you or not.”

Mumbo turned the words over in his mind with a thoughtful hum. It seemed like a good idea, really. It did, in fact, make him feel better about the entire thing, and suddenly he realized just how badly he had been craving that familiar company. He hadn't even realized that he had felt like he had to go, despite not being fully sure if he wanted to; the thought of having a familiar face there to wave him in felt like a godsend.

It was like everything was finally clicking into place, and Mumbo hadn’t even realized that he was smiling.

He grinned up at Iskall, the warmth of his own tea seeping pleasantly into his hands. “Yeah,” Mumbo said, and it sounded almost confident. “Yeah, that'd be amazing.”

~

In the end, his therapist turned out to be lovely. She had a certain calm, understanding energy about her that made Mumbo relax almost as soon as he stepped into her office.

The entire situation still felt a bit weird, definitely, but that weirdness wasn’t so uncomfortable anymore. Instead, it felt almost exciting. He was glad that he was trying something new.

It just felt nice to talk to someone who didn't know him, and therefore wouldn't say things to just please him. Someone who listened just to listen, without Mumbo feeling as if he was a burden for talking. It was a bit anxiety inducing, since it was his first time, but it felt like that anxiety would disappear in the future, and by the end of the session, Mumbo felt a lot lighter.

“So?” Iskall asked with a smile, as the pair of them walked out of the building together.

“I'll go back next week,” Mumbo replied. “It was a lot nicer than I thought. I think it might genuinely help me a lot.”

Iskall smiled, the sort of smile that spreads so uncontrollably across your lips until the corners of your mouth ache. “That's good to hear,” they said, and they looked so happy. They looked so glad. “Now, how about that coffee?”

Mumbo only laughed in response. It might've just been his head making things up, but some part of him was so certain that smile looked proud.

It felt nice, to make his friend proud.

~

Another thing that helped was knowing that he had people who cared about him. Yes, he had his siblings and Iskall, but he had other people as well. They had fallen to the wayside a little in the midst of everything that had happened, a fact that Mumbo couldn’t help but feel guilty for, but that hadn’t seemed to change much. In fact, it felt exactly the same as it did before when Tango messaged him to invite him to hang out.

He said that he was planning a small get together, and had wondered if Mumbo was interested in joining. It would be him, Mumbo, Impulse, as well as a few of Tango's other friends: Zedaph, Skizz, and Cub.

The first thing Mumbo felt was a shockwave of anxiety. He couldn't say no to such a kind offer, but what if they didn't want him there? What if they just invited him out of courtesy? It would be out of character, sure, but he couldn’t blame them for not wanting to spend time with him. Especially when he had been so absent for the past few months.

But… something about that didn’t feel right.

So Mumbo took a step back, just like his therapist had once recommended to him. He took a second to breathe, to drink some water and refresh himself before looking at the message again. And, this time, as he looked over the first text that had been sent between them in weeks, (a text that very clearly wasn’t trying to pressure him or force him into anything; a text that left his options open), Mumbo knew that it was genuine.

He was a little ashamed of the surprise he felt at that, but it felt like a step in the right direction either way. Mumbo hadn’t ever really thought about it, but in the back of his mind there was a constant feeling that people - his friends, his colleagues, everyone - disliked him.

Getting invited to something and pushing past that feeling… it suddenly meant a lot more. It felt nice to know that people wanted to see him. It felt nice to know that people cared about him. Even if they weren't close, and even if they weren't Gr-

He pushed that thought away, good mood suddenly soured.

He should probably reply to Tango.

~

Mumbo felt a bit awkward as he stood outside of Tango's apartment, one shaking finger hovering above the doorbell. He knew that they wouldn't mind him being there, since he had been invited, but the muffled laughter sounding from inside made his heart twist.

Anxiety crept up his spine, whispering horrible promises into his ears. He really didn’t want to ruin the joy inside the flat, and a part of him worried that he would, whilst another stubbornly argued against it. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there like that, paralyzed under the frozen grasp of his fear, in half a mind to just turn around and leave. It might’ve been hours, though that was incredibly unlikely.

He only managed to snap out of his anxious daze when his phone pinged, a sharp noise that rang in his ears like the most obnoxious of yelling. He shook out his sweaty hands and took a deep breath, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Iskall’s in the back of his mind, telling him that he wasn’t alone. That it was okay to be here, and that it was okay if he needed to leave early. He was taking this at his own pace, and that’s alright.

He was welcome here, Mumbo reminded himself as he pressed the doorbell. He was visiting his friends, and they would be happy to see him.

It only took a second for the door to open, as if Tango had run for it the moment that Mumbo rang. He was laughing as he opened the door, his cheeks red with a full, rosy sort of happiness, and he beamed as he saw Mumbo waiting there.

“Dude!” Tango exclaimed, throwing his arms out for a hug. “I'm so happy that you decided to join, come on inside!”

Mumbo smiled in response, leaning into his hold with a deep inhale, before the pair were walking further into the apartment.

Tango handed him a hanger out of nowhere, gesturing to a rail where Mumbo could leave his coat. “Feel free to just leave that there. There's snacks in the kitchen if you want any, and we’re just hanging out in the living room for now!” He explained, hands waving around all the while. Mumbo responded with a nod.

“Awesome. Now, I gotta make sure that–” A loud crash interrupted whatever he was saying, and Mumbo watched a little dazedly as Tango’s brows shot up like something straight out of a cartoon, and he yelled, “Zedaph! I swear to God, if you–”

Whatever else he was trying to say was lost to another echoing crash, before Tango was sprinting back down the hall without so much as a second glance. Laughter erupted as the man disappeared around the corner, and Mumbo took another deep breath at the sudden chaos.

Well, he found himself relaxing. Might as well grab some food.

~

The energy in the living room was comfortable and infectious. As soon as Mumbo had sat down on the couch, a bag of crisps tucked under his arm, he got pulled into playing a board game.

As it turned out, Cub had brought a friend along as well, and Tango quickly decided that it would work best if they played in three separate teams. On one team it was Tango and Zedaph, another was Impulse and Skizz, and Mumbo ended up on a team with Cub, and his friend, Scar.

The first few rounds went pretty well, with Scar showing himself to be particularly adept at scamming everyone else out of points, including his own teammates, somehow. They quickly ended up in the lead, whilst Tango and Zed were second, and Impulse and Skizz were last. Lighthearted bickering was quick to follow between the two losing teams, which quickly distracted them from the game.

Mumbo silently watched them, his heart yet again twinged as it reminded him of the dynamic he, Iskall, and Grian used to have. He missed it. He missed it a lot, actually. He wished he could somehow turn back time, to before-

“Don't mind them,” Cub cut through the mayhem suddenly, as if noticing how Mumbo started to get lost in his thoughts. “The four of them have been close since high school, so they're bound to get a bit distracted,” he explained with a sharp grin.

“I can tell, they all seem to share a brain cell,” Mumbo smiled.

Cub leant back with a hearty laugh, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I suppose they do.”

Quiet fell between them then, but Mumbo found it wasn’t uncomfortable. He didn’t have any qualms with sitting back to watch the chaos unfold, and breaking the silence didn’t feel intimidating either. Something about that felt… new.

“How long have you known them?” Mumbo asked quickly, trying not to dwell on it as he turned to face Cub.

“Hm, not that long, really. I met Impulse in university, and he introduced me to Tango and Zed within a week. Apparently Zed was even on the same course as me, I had just never noticed until after I’d met him.” He shrugged. “Skizz showed up a little while later, since he lived in another city. So- not long. Scar, on the other hand…”

At that, Scar leaned into their conversation in a way that told Mumbo he thought he was being inconspicuous, like a cat who thinks you can’t see them because they’re moving slowly. He really wasn’t.

“I've known Impulse for a while!” He started. “Honestly, I can’t remember where we met. One second I didn't know him, and then, bam! I had known him for years.” He laughed, something buttery and pleasant. “He must've introduced me to the others as well, except for Skizz, I hadn't met him until now. Actually–”

As Scar kept talking, Mumbo found he couldn't help but to listen. Something about him was magnetizing, a sort of natural charisma that made him impossible to dislike. It was so reminiscent of- of-

“Well, anyway, that’s how we snuck a rooster into our final!” Scar concluded, before turning his attention to Mumbo. “Mumbo! A little birdy told me that you're a fan of Ariana?”

Apparently, at some point during Scar’s rambling, the others managed to drag Cub into their weird argument, leaving Scar and Mumbo to their conversation. He had barely noticed when it happened, but now he was cursing being left alone. It felt like his heart had stopped, blood rushing in his ears as the world around them fell deathly silent.

Memories of the Fridays spent on his couch, watching videos together with Grian clouded his mind like smoke. Memories of them laughing together, of them sitting in comfortable silence together.

“Uh, yes, I am,” Mumbo coughed, trying to get that smoke out of his lungs as quickly as he could. “I-I’ve been into her music for a while now, I've followed her for a few years. Which is honestly pretty funny, since my childhood friend, Iskall, is her manager. So, um, yeah.” He smiled awkwardly at Scar, clearing his throat again.

“Oh!” Scar exclaimed, something lighting up in his eyes, “I guess it really is a small world!” He laughed again, clapping his hands together excitedly.

Mumbo honestly felt a bit confused now. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“Oh, well, I know Iskall as well! I happen to be Ariana's bodyguard, actually,” he replied casually, as if he were talking about the weather. As if everyone worked with the most well-known celebrity in the country.

Mumbo's brain was absolutely whirring with the new information, as he filed through all the information that he knew about Ariana, (which, unsurprisingly, was quite a lot.)

“Oh!” He gasped as he recalled the name of Ariana’s head of security. “You're Scar Goodtimes?” He didn’t really mean to ask, but the question slipped out with such ease that Mumbo couldn’t even find it in himself to be ashamed.

“The one and only!” Scar said. “So you know my full name, but didn't recognise me?” He asked curiously.

Mumbo blushed. “Well, I’m rather face blind, if I’m honest… I always have been! I've seen photos of you, but you tend to be dressed in suits and sunglasses, so, uh, sorry. If you hadn't said anything I probably wouldn't have realized.”

“Ah, I see,” Scar nodded with a strict understanding. “That makes sense!”

They were quiet for a second as Mumbo processed the information, sifting through the things that he knew about Scar’s work in his mind. Then, he spoke again, “I, er, I hope you don't mind me asking, but… what is she like? I only know what Iskall’s told me, but they haven’t said much.”

Scar looked thoughtful, mulling over the question for a minute or two before he started, “Well, it's a bit hard to say! She's very sweet, and polite. One of the most humble celebrities I've worked with, that’s for sure, but other than that, I don't actually know much.” The man looked as if he was debating something then, so Mumbo stayed quiet, even as his words came to a stop.

“... She struggles a bit with her mental health from time to time,” Scar eventually seemed to decide on. “And she's a very private lady. The person who knows the most about her is definitely Iskall, and I don't know either of them that well, unfortunately.”

Mumbo nodded, the answer not coming as a surprise. “Well, thank you, anyway. I couldn’t help but to ask, I must admit that I'm rather curious about her.”

“Ah, no worries! I would've asked as well if the roles were reversed.” Scar replied with a smile. “Well, while I might not know much about Ariana, I certainly found out quite a lot about roosters. Let me tell you–”

Scar started talking again, and as Mumbo listened he found himself watching the rest of the group. He couldn't help but miss his own, the ones that were as close to him as these friends were to each other. He couldn't help but to miss Grian.

He felt an urge to text him, to ask him how he was doing, to beg him to please come over again, can we just talk?

Mumbo pushed the urge away as much as he could.

~

After his visit at Tango's, Mumbo found himself missing freshly cooked meals. Impulse had cooked up a feast later into the evening, a wide spread of vegetables and meats, all seasoned and baked to perfection, and even the thought of them now made his mouth water.

He’d been living off of instant ramen and frozen meals for too long, and it left his fridge and cabinets far too empty for comfort. Instead of being filled with food that he could actually use, it was filled with random jars he didn't remember buying, sauces he never used, pickled things, and random packets that looked a bit too suspicious. The vegetables he did have didn't look fresh at all, and also, where the hell did all these tubes come from?

He sighed heavily, desperately wanting to put off buying food to another day, since it was pouring outside. He would rather stay at home, drink some tea and watch whatever crap was on TV, but then his stomach growled again and he remembered Impulse’s cooking, and… damn it, he should go to the store.

After all, what would Iskall say if they saw his fridge now? What would they think? What would Gr-

Mumbo shook his head, snapping out of the train of thought. He didn't want to think about him, but ever since he was at Tango's, he had started to pop up in his head more and more. He sighed, waited for his mind to clear a bit. It hurt too much to think about him, about the things that he might say.

So, instead of thinking, Mumbo grabbed some reusable bags and sat down at the kitchen table. He very pointedly avoided looking at Grian’s seat as he made a list of the things he needed.

He read through the list a few times, double checked that he’d written tea down, and glanced through the cabinets one last time to see if he needed anything else.

When he couldn't find anything missing, Mumbo grabbed his coat, pulled on his boots, and started towards the store.

~

Half of the time, Mumbo found grocery shopping to be the most dull, boring and uninteresting thing on the planet, and at other times, he found it therapeutic to walk through the isles listening to music, crossing things off from the list.

This time, it was definitely the latter.

That was another one of those things that had made life a little bit better, to find joy in ordinary chores and mundane tasks. There was something pleasant about doing what he needed to, about taking care of himself, about being able to do small things that he would have previously dreaded with a smile.

Somehow, his motivation for cooking a decent meal didn’t disappear while he was out grocery shopping, and he even left with a solid meal plan scribbled down on the back of his shopping list. He walked out of the doors with two hefty bags and a pleasant lightness on his shoulders even so, and, in his good mood, Mumbo decided that he’d walk the nicer route home. It was longer, sure, but it let him wind through some lovely little side-streets and a vibrant park or two.

He stumbled on a cute bakery as he walked, a small, independent looking store with fresh bread lining the windows. The scent from the bakery was absolutely heavenly, and he couldn't stop himself from going back to it, just to buy some bread. Sure, he had bread he'd bought at the grocery store and buying more things only made the bags harder to carry, but bakery bread was always a lot better, so it was worth it.

So, Mumbo ended up with bags that were heavy, filled to the absolute brim with fresh vegetables and ripe fruits, as well as two loaves of freshly baked bread. He had to stop a few times on the walk home to let his arms relax, otherwise he'd end up with aching arms and his food would most definitely end up getting dropped on the street. Yet, it didn't change how content he felt.

Even if it was still raining, even if his arms ached, and even if he had started to long for a cup of hot tea. He still felt content.

Then, Mumbo turned the corner onto his street.

He was nearly home, he could see his apartment building from where he stood, but that did nothing to stop the grocery bags from clattering out of his loose grip. The bread fell out, its beautiful crust soaked in a puddle on the pavement, and the punnet of apples came loose, fruit rolling across the ground. All of those good things were ruined in an instant, all of the things that he had been looking forward to were nothing more than a smushed pile against gray concrete.

But none of that mattered, and Mumbo wasn’t watching as eggs smashed and vegetables bruised. Instead, he was slack, staring straight ahead with weak, shaking hands.

Because right across the street, on the familiar, uneven doorstep of Mumbo’s apartment block, stood Grian.

He was rocking back and forth on his heels, his back turned to the street. Even so, Mumbo could see that he was twisting his hands anxiously, picking at the skin around his nails. It was almost picturesque, the way that he stood there on the empty side of the street, as if everyone had cleared out to give the two of them this moment - though, realistically, most people were probably just inside because of the rain.

Mumbo couldn’t care about the loss of his groceries as he blinked owlishly at Grian, frozen in place. He couldn't really believe his eyes as he took in every detail of the man’s silhouette, trying to convince himself that it wasn't just his imagination; that Grian was actually there.

He stared at him as he glanced up towards the window of Mumbo's flat, as he flitted between pacing or just tapping his foot, seemingly unaware of everything around him. He looked like he was deep in thought, as if he was trying to decide whether he should leave or not. Everytime that he steeled himself, spine straightening and hands curling into fists, he’d crumble, and go back to just standing outside the building, rocking back and forth.

Grian looked significantly better than the last time Mumbo saw him. His hair was in better shape, trimmed and washed, albeit wet from the rain. He wondered what style Grian usually let it sit in now, he wondered if that had changed, since they last saw each other so many weeks ago. His clothes looked clean, he was standing straighter, and he seemed to have put effort into what he was wearing.

All in all, he looked good. He looked better, so much better. If it wasn't for the pacing, Mumbo would've assumed that Grian was doing well.

It could have been hours that Mumbo stood there, glued to the pavement with watering, blinkless eyes, before Grian finally made up his mind on what he was going to do. He watched with horror as Grian turned around, walking in the opposite direction.

He hadn't seen Mumbo, hadn't noticed him.

He had decided to leave.

Mumbo’s heart dropped from his throat to his toes, fluttering with the desperate pace of a hummingbird, and yet, he couldn't move. He was frozen in place, deafening pulse hammering in his ears. He had to move! He had to!

It wasn't until a passerby walked into him, too busy looking at the groceries littering the ground, that Mumbo moved. In that moment he didn't care about the bread, he didn’t care about making himself a good, fresh meal, or the fact that there was traffic on the road. He didn't care if he ran into someone. He didn’t care if he made a fool of himself.

All he could care about was stopping Grian from leaving. He had to stop him from leaving.

His heart was yelling at him that if he didn't stop Grian from leaving, then this would be the last time he ever saw him. That they'd be stuck in this godawful limbo forever, neither of them ever gaining the strength to try and fix things between them. In those few seconds, where all he could see was the retreating outline of Grian’s rain-soaked hair, he was certain that was true.

It was true for both of them, but he could fix it. Right now, he could fix it.

That's why Mumbo ran out into the road without a second thought, throwing himself straight out into traffic, and only narrowly avoiding getting hit by a car. The driver slammed on their horn and rolled down the window to yell curses at him for his recklessness, but he could barely hear it.

Mumbo could only sprint as fast as he could, legs pumping under him like he was possessed. Adrenaline and fear and longing all melted together into some dangerous potion in his gut, he only cared about stopping Grian, he–

He didn't stop running until he caught up to Grian, his fingers first just brushing against the sleeve of his jacket as he remained just out of reach. In that split second, it was like Grian was nothing but a figment of his imagination, a shadow haunting him as he slipped through quivering fingers. It was only a moment, but the surge of absolute terror that rushed through him at that gave Mumbo a boost like nothing else.

Before he really knew what was happening, he had managed to grab Grian with a far sharper grip, long fingers tangling around his arm like a vice. He watched, tense and slightly lightheaded, as Grian yelled in response, spinning around like a whip as he tried to yank himself away.

His expression was sour, his eyelashes wet, as he seemed about ready to scream at whatever stranger had grabbed him until they let go.

Mumbo watched the exact instant that he realized who it was that was holding onto him.

Grian’s angry expression faded rapidly, first settling into a look of pure disbelief, before a hint of relief and happiness coloured his face. A smile was next, small and barely-there but still present enough to send fireworks shooting through Mumbo’s chest. He looked as if couldn't believe his eyes at all.

In a second, the happiness faded and his face crumpled like a child, something young and helpless and pained overtaking every inch of his expression. He looked sadder and more regretful than Mumbo had ever seen him, his mouth moving wordlessly as he stared up at the taller man.

Up close, Mumbo’s only thought was that he was glad Grian was truly doing better. With relief, he could see that Grian was wearing a small amount of makeup to highlight his features. It was polished, carefully placed and vibrant, but didn't hide the fact that he still had bags beneath his eyes. He still looked tired, a sleeplessness that may as well have been etched into his very bones, but the dark circles were so much less apparent than before.

Then, finally, Grian managed to croak, “Mumbo?” He said shakily, and Mumbo had never heard his name sound like an oath before. He had never heard someone call for him like they had been thinking of him for weeks, like they had been practicing holding the shape of his name on their tongue.

He could do nothing but stare, taking in every detail of the man’s face as the pair of them stood together, stuck in place. Mumbo’s tight, shaking grip stayed on Grian’s arm, his mind blank as he tried to think of a single word that would be a reply good enough for something as terrifying and profound as Grian’s own.

But he couldn’t; couldn’t do anything but gape as he spotted a half-smoked cigarette between Grian's fingers. He seemed to have forgotten it, unlit due to the rain, the smell only slightly present. How long had Grian been pacing? How long had he been out in the rain?

“Mumbo, listen, I–” Grian inhaled, about to continue, but was promptly cut off by Mumbo pulling him into a tight hug.

Grian gasped, and for a split second Mumbo was terrified that Grian wouldn't hug back, that he would resist, push Mumbo away, and leave. That this would be it, he would watch as Grian retreated away from him, and they would have forever missed their chance.

He could feel as Grian trembled. He didn't want to let go. He couldn't let go.

Then, he felt a pair of hands hovering over his back. At first they were careful, landing lightly on his soaking wet coat, but quickly they turned desperate. Those hands felt searching against him, grabbing fistfuls of as much fabric as they could reach, like whatever Grian could hold would stay with him forever. Like Mumbo would leave if Grian didn’t hold on tightly enough.

Mumbo barely registered that the other was crying, the tears blending with the rain, smudged into every other droplet that was already coating his shoulder.

"I'm sorry,” Grian sobbed, burying his head in Mumbo's shoulder. “I'm so sorry."

There were tears on Mumbo’s cheeks too as he pulled Grian as close as he could, burying his nose in damp, blond hair.

“It's okay, I'm here. It's okay," he reassured, and he wasn’t quite sure who he was talking to as he said it. It didn’t matter, they both heard it.

Neither wanted to let go, as they stood there in the pouring rain. Neither could bring themself to.

#grumbo #grian #mumbo jumbo #hermitblr #hermitcraft #ariana griande #take my tea with formaldehyde (grumbo fic) #tmtwf #grumbo fanfic

[theyareprisons]

Vampire Dating Diaries

smallish reminder that I do indeed write fanfiction lollll

Dating a vampire was not exactly like Grian had expected. He honestly thought it would have been sexier - not that Mumbo wasn’t sexy, of course - but Grian had kind of assumed that their relationship would always be sparkling with heated gazes, tongues running along lips, and the tantalizing exhilaration of twin fangs pressed delicately against Grian’s neck.

Mumbo was much softer and awkward than all the dark and dirty vampiric romance novels Grian had read. Mumbo always had some sort of poem or song that reminded him of Grian, millions of recipes that he knew Grian would love, and a beautiful garden in which he picked special bouquets everyday for Grian. Dating a vampire was nothing like Grian could have imagined - it was much, much better.

Of course, there were times that dating a vampire was not like Grian had expected because of reasons he never could have predicted. But this wasn’t always bad, and Grian wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Or

Five times that dating a vampire isn't what Grian expects, and the one time it is.

New fic can be found here!

#hermitcraft fandom #grian fanfic #mumbo jumbo fanfic #vampire mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft fanfic #grumbo fanfic #grumbo

[katiky-png]

ive been sick for the last few days and wrote a maybe a little bit naughty but not really grumbo fic

set in slsmp, they have fun and things weee

Summary: Grian gave a cheeky smile and tilted his head. The sight of the moustached man’s slowly reddening cheeks only stirred up excitement. Affection. Might as well have fun with it. You can never know if you've successfully completed a task or not, and the watchers were the ones to decide it. Your best bet on succeeding is to go all out. Do twice what your task requested if possible. And going all out was exactly what Grian did.

#I would post the link but my irls are on here and having them see this would be very fun so how about check the tags on my pinned #the link should be there #wawawawaawwa this will probably deleted before my classmates find it #mcytblr #grumbo #hermitshipping #hermitship #hermitblr #suggestive #fanfiction #grumbo fanfic #katext #grian #mumbojumbo

[hellish-hyperfixation]

fandoms/people I write for

the list could end up growing, but more often than not I fixate on a specific character in a fandom, so don't expect anything too expansive.

Key: (?) - I'm willing to write for them, but it may take longer because I'm less interested in writing for them Red - Current hyperfixations. I'll probably finish these requests quicker/be more motivated (P) - Only willing to write PLATONIC relationships.

Baldurs Gate 3:

Gale (check additional info at bottom of post) Karlach

Lab Rats/Elite Force/Mighty Med:

Chaz (Chase/Kaz) Brylar (Bree/Skylar)

Hermitcraft/MCYT:

Grumbo (grian/mumbo) Smallidarity (jimmy/joel)

I/A The Spiderverse:

Hobie Brown Miguel O'Hara (?) MilesGanke/Clawcode/Riotflower (check end of post for extra info) Gwen Stacy (P) Miles Morales (P)

Nimona:

Goldenheart (I've only seen the movie)

Redactedverse:

Lasko Moore Sam Collins (?) Geordi (?)

Fantastic Beasts:

Newt Scamander Theseus Scamander (?)

MCU:

Doctor Stephen Strange Peter Parker (Tom Holland, Andrew Garfield) Peter Quill

Honkai Star Rail:

Welt Yang

In Space With Markiplier:

Head Engineer Mark Mack

Additional Information: Gale: only willing to write "x tav" but am willing to write for your tav! just send me info about them in the ask and ill try to the best of my ability to do them justice! The reason I can't write for durge is because.. I don't know anything about them... at least, not yet.

Milesganke/Clawcode/Riotflower: please please PLEASE! tell me which universe both miles and ganke are for the fic (1610 or 42). And also note that I haven't read any of the comics (sue me), so I won't be able to write for them in the comics or games (at least not well).

#lasko moore x male reader #lasko moore x listener #lasko moore #newt scamander x male reader #doctor strange x male reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x gender neutral reader #miles morales x ganke lee #milesganke #welt yang x male reader #welt yang x gender neutral reader #peter quill x male reader #peter quill x gender neutral reader #engineer mark x male reader #engineer mark x gender neutral reader #head engineer mark #riotflower #goldenheart #grumbo #Grumbo fanfic #Hermitcraft #smallidarity #smallidarity fanfiction #chase davenport x kaz #chaz

[paperhermits]

HELP LIZZIE YOURE SO REALL FOR THAT

edit: i have been reminded that i should’ve put tbe source and that was my bad that i forgot.

fic was by Nyx_the_666 - “Bound by Time and Coincidence” over on ao3

I’m sorry Nyx if you see this that i didn’t do that initially.

#radio rebel hair tuck #There was only One Room Left #and only ONE bed #hermitcraft #mumscarian #scarian #grumbo #mcyt fanfiction #hermitcraft fanfic #fanfic screenshot #fanfic quotes

[a-sociopath-do-your-research]

I know I'm gonna have a lot of sampling bias cause I have @d0not-disturb and her followers in my circle but-

#grian #hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #grumbo #oli talks! #waffle duo #hermit shipping #hermitshipping #grumbot #jrumbot #hermitcraft fanfic #i gues??

[kintrash413]

lil Grian & Mumbo angst fanfic based on Mumbo turning yellow:

What could he do?

With hands shaking, Grian turned his back to Mumbo, focusing on the crafting table in front of him as his best friend screamed for help.

Logs into planks. It was an effort to form the planks into sticks with his hands trembling as bad as they were.

It was hard to hear Mumbo under the roaring of his own blood. At least that's what he told himself.

The sticks into a ladder. Void, he needed to move faster-

Grian finally turned back around, heart in his throat. He couldn't see Mumbo.

He placed the ladder down. He could barely breathe. “I made a ladder!” Grian gasped, looking around for Mumbo. “Get over here, I made you a ladder!”

The lava bubbled. Grian's lip trembled. “Mumbo!”

He hadn't been too late. He couldn't’ve been. He doesn't know what he'd do if he- “Mumbo! I made-” a sob interrupted him. Why was he crying? He needed… he needed to get Mumbo. “Mumbo!”

Grian fell to his knees. The netherrack was comparatively cool underfoot. He stared at the lava pool. It was empty.

He was too late.

His tears dissolved in the heat before getting the chance to fall, and his sobs came as gasps that stuck the heat into his throat.

“Mumbo!” Grian rasped, nearly a scream.

Well. Now he was just crying to nobody, alone in the nether.

Grian grabbed the damned crafting table and stood up shakily. He needed wither skeleton skulls. He couldn't stop crying.

He took a deep breath that broke into another sob and continued on to the nether fortress.

#secret life #grian #mumbo #mumbo jumbo #grumbo #? sure #idk if they have a duo name h #writing #mine #short story #my writing #fanfic

[tiny-sketchbook-daily]

the hermit coffee co

day 9, march 24 2024

#the hermit coffee co #<- idk if thats an official tag #its a good fanfic #100% recommend #still in progress but updates are frequent #it is #hermitshipping #tho if thats not something you're in to #mumscarian #grumbo #scarian #its a chatfic also #to be clear i didnt write it #just really like it #hermitcraft fanfic

[braxiatel]

Chapters: 1/1 Relationships: Rendog/GoodTimesWithScar, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Additional Tags: Soulmates, Royalty, Line of Succession, Politics, Political Drama, Soulmate marks,  Minor Injuries,

After nearly two decades in power, Queen Lizzie wants to retire to spend more time with her newly discovered soulmate, Joel. It is only right that her loyal knight and closest advisor, General Ren, would be named as her successor seeing as she has no children to pass it to.

Trouble arises when Lizzie's estranged sister Cleo puts forth her son, Scar, as a direct descendant of the royal line.

One has the claim of blood, another the approval of the current monarch, but which of the two men will triumph in the end?

-

My fic for the Vault’s secret santa has been revealed! This was written for the amazing @sparksnevadas. 

Make sure to check out the other fics in the collection as well, everyone involved is a great writer and/or artist in their own right! (Love you all very much friends <3)

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitcraft fanfiction #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #renthedog #rendog #renscar #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #background relationships include jizzie ethubs grumbo gemstress and zombiesymmetry #last life #limited life #mcyt #writing

[thathermitweirdo]

Because my birthday is tomorrow you can all give me the gift of reading my Grumbo vampire medieval fanfic (Blood and Tears) on AO3 and Wattpad

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fandom #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitweirdo writes #hermitcraft au #mumbo jumbo #grian #grumbo #grian x mumbo #Grumbo fanfic #vampire mumbojumbo

[logosbot-tm-fics]

Okay okay, I know that I probably shouldn't be sharing bookmarks, but I love to read through comments and bookmarks, they make me so happy and give me motivation to keep working on my fics (positive reinforcement ya know?)

And like-

I just have to share this bc:

LOOK!!!

LOOOOOOOOK!!!

!!!!!!!

THIS IS SO SWEET!!! Thank you so much???

I'm??? :D!!!

I mean, yeah, there will be smut in the future (in separate fics, tho, so ppl can easily skip it. If the smut has an impact on the main story, it is mentioned rather than a whole scene since I tend to find it jarring, and it sometimes loses the plot. (So I'm mostly doing for myself so I don't loose focus lol💀))

And yes, it was originally supposed to be a one-shot friends-to lovers, but the story got its own life, and I began writing angst, and uh yeah, now it's like this lmao-

Can't help writing stories, it's v fun!!! :D

The next chapter will pick up where the last chapter ended :P

Anyway, again thank you whoever you are :)))

Also!!! Shout out to my co-writer, they made the story so so good, and I enjoy reading through it as well. It flows so much better now and everything has a lot more emotion and feeling, and shit just feels like real, proper issues & feelings and it makes the entire thing hit the way it should. (I try my best but Jesus, they have a talent for developing scenes???)

So yeah!!! Glad you enjoyed :>>>

#bookmarks and comments my beloved #i try to respond to every comment bc I really really value them and makes writing fics a lot more fun #seeing that ppl enjoy what you write enough to comment means the world to me :) #grian #mumbo jumbo #grumbo #hermitblr #ariana griande #fanfic #tmtwf

[rachiecrown]

I dont fully remember what the og ask was but im p sure it was smth like

Hotguy and Cuteguy fighting for mumbos (a civilian) attention

Could be villain v hero, vigilante v hero, vigilante v villain, both on the same team

HEEHEEHOO THIS was so fun to write honestly :33 freakin have some villain Grian and hero Scar fighting over the silly civilian reporter with a mustache they both have crushes on!!

Also btw I used Xelqua for Grian instead of Cute Guy cause I feel like the resident supervillain would not appreciate having matching names with his arch nemesis.

---

Today was a perfectly average day. The temperature was nice, not too hot to sweat, not too cold to wear a coat. People made their way to and from work, here and there from places in the shopping district. Traffic wasn't too bad and the sun was about to reach its solar noon.

Everything, today, was normal, and Mumbo hoped to the high heavens above it would stay that way. Now, that was an odd wish for someone of his occupation, but nowadays all Mumbo wished for was just a bit of normalcy.

Mumbo was a journalist, you see, but not on mundane topics like coffee shops or pigeons (not like they were boring, no, they were plenty interesting in their own ways). He followed the stories and fights between heroes and villains as up close and personal as possible, even risking his life several times in the process.

At first, it had been an exciting job to follow fights both big and small with his fancy camera in one hand and his motorcycle's handles in the other, weaving through traffic dangerously and filming the way the most powerful hero and villain fought together above traffic. The hero lived up to his name, Hot Guy, with his majestic hair and his somehow beautiful scars, and the villain, Xelqua, was stunning with his white wings and graceful movements.

It had all gone downhill the day Mumbo got caught between a violent fight between the two. His adrenaline had peaked that day, he thought he was really gonna die! But for some inexplicable reason Hot Guy and Xelqua stopped their fighting, showing some sort of immediate interest in the journalist. Mumbo honestly believed he would never be scared again after that day.

Weeks and months passed, either one or the other of the powered menaces finding Mumbo and causing all sorts of mischief to surround him. Three months ago, all Mumbo wanted was a shot as a journalist to earn good money.. but today, all he wanted was a sense of peace and normalcy.

"Well, well, well." Well, there goes that wish. "If it isn't mister Mumbo." Ohh, great, he knows my name now. Mumbo turned around slowly to face the one and only Xelqua. The villain had his hands folded behind his back, his wings spread behind him as he took a few steps towards Mumbo.

"Well well whoopsie, looks like I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time." Mumbo muttered, turning back around to continue walking. He was stopped by silky gloves grabbing his shoulders and Xelqua putting his chin on Mumbo's shoulder from behind. "Don't be a party pooper, pretty boy." Xelqua cooed. Mumbo just slipped out of his grasp. "Listen, I'm sure you understand time constraints, I have somewhere to be." Mumbo lied.

Xelqua basically wilted at this. "You're saying you don't want to spend time with me?"

"When did I ever want to do that?" Mumbo shot back.

"Well hello there!" A third voice sounded.

Mumbo wanted to scream.

Hot Guy approached the two with a lopsided smile, his hand going to Xelqua's face and pushing him away. "Is this horrible, horrible villain bothering you? Do you need a safe escort to wherever you're going?" Hot Guy wondered. Mumbo glared at the two. "I have a lunch to get to before I get hungrier. Now if you'll excuse me-"

Mumbo turned on his heel, only for both of his arms to be grabbed by two pairs of hands. "I'll go with you!" Xelqua shouted, siding up to Mumbo. Hot Guy pulled Mumbo away from Xelqua, picking him up bridal style. "No, I'll get you where you need to go, safe and sound!" He proclaimed. Mumbo just sighed. "Here we go again.."

Hot Guy turned and ran the second Xelqua reached for Mumbo. "So where do you need to go, Mumbo?" He asked, his mechanical glider unfolding and letting him take flight. Oh, wonderful, you know my name too. Well, as long as this gets me where I'm going and you leave me alone, I'll accept it. Mumbo thought. "Shopping district, food court on Ninth Street." Mumbo said. At least this was free transportation.

Mumbo looked around and spotted Xelqua, soaring after Hot Guy with an upset look on his face. Mumbo sighed. "Xelqua on your seven." He exasperated, in which Hot Guy turned quickly around a corner and set Mumbo down. "I will defend you, beautiful citizen!!" He shouted boisterously, striking a pose just seconds before Xelqua tackled him

The two went tumbling into an alley. Mumbo, truly, was unfazed. He snapped a photo of the two wrestling for the news before he turned and walked towards his lunch spot, which was luckily only a block away now.

All I want is one day. One day! But noo, these two utter buffoons have to bother the ever living bits out of me. I'm chuffed, and not in the good way today. Mumbo's internal dialogue spoke as he entered the shop and made his order. He sat at a table near the back. Ugh, he couldn't even enjoy window views anymore because of those two..

Whatever. He had his food, and that was a good thing. Customers came and went as Mumbo filled up, slowly becoming more content with his day again..

..until Xelqua entered the shop.

There were shouts and screams from civilians as Xelqua spotted Mumbo and made his way towards the back. Mumbo would've let himself faceplant into his dish if he wouldn't get dirty. Xelqua stopped in front of his table and held up a thorny rose that was so very clearly picked from someone's rose bush.

"I'm sorry about Hot Guy ruining our special day," Xelqua said, "please take this rose!"

Mumbo stared at Xelqua incredulously. "What kind of stunt is this then!?" He blurted out. Xelqua pushed the rose forward. "I'm not taking the flower! It's full of thorns!" Mumbo then shouted.

The shop's door chimed again as Hot Guy entered, sauntering his way over to Mumbo and shoving Xelqua out of the way with a bouquet of red carnations. Hot Guy placed the bouquet in Mumbo's arms and procedurally messed up the mustached man's hair in the process.

"Is he bothering you?" Hot Guy basically cooed. Xelqua squawked in offense and grabbed Hot Guy's hair, pulling it, causing the hero to shout and grab back at Xelqua. Mumbo simply watched apathetically. Weeks ago, he would be flustered beyond no end, probably folding in on himself and unable to properly take the attention, but he came to realize in this moment that he had become desensitized to the antics the hero and villain put up.

Goodness, these two made Mumbo feel less like himself with each encounter. He dropped the flowers on the table and stood, snatching up his food and walking out as the two fools fought behind him. Being around them really just drained his energy, now.

-

It was hours later when Xelqua pulled off the stupidest stunt of them all, and Mumbo found himself stuck in an abandoned apartment in a pile of pillows with the villain curled around his torso. Despite his apathy towards Xelqua and Hot Guy fighting over him and getting him flowers, he could at least admit that his face felt a bit hot at how Xelqua's head rested on his chest and how his leg crossed over his waist.

Mumbo could only groan in defeat at the desperate antics of the avian. Whatever. He could maybe give in just a little bit, right? Not like this would matter once Hot Guy found this place and distracted Xelqua enough so he could make his escape.

Hesitantly, Mumbo let his hand hover over Xelqua's head. His mind distantly brought up the idea of pulling Xelqua's hair to get him off, but he mentally shot that down, as that would really only make the avian angry. He was a highly dangerous villain, after all.

He let his hand settle on Xelqua's halfway up hood. It would be a small gesture for anyone else, but to Mumbo it was a huge step of faith that the villain wouldn't get even more lovey over him.

Thinking back, this was probably a mistake.

Mumbo and Xelqua jumped as the door slammed open. "So this is where you've taken him!! You scoundrel!! You menace!!" Hot Guy shouted, pointing at the now incredulous Xelqua who held his head up with a look of shock on his half covered face. "How did you even find us!?" Xelqua shouted, which Hot Guy marched over and shoved the screen of his phone in Xelqua's face. "I tracked his phone!"

Mumbo cringed at that. Is that how Hot Guy's able to find me so easily? He was grabbed and lifted by Hot Guy, which Xelqua shrieked and grabbed Mumbo's arm. This quickly resulted in a tug of war with Mumbo as the rope.

"He's mine! I had him first!"

"guys-"

"Let go of him, you fiend!!"

"you both, please-"

"I kidnapped him fair and square!"

"Well I'm here to rescue him!!"

"BOTH OF YOU!!!'

Mumbo yanked his arms away from the two and pulled in on himself. He was about to make a horribly stupid negotiation. "You two either get along and share me on that pillow nest right there-" he pointed past Xelqua, "or none of you will receive any positive emotion from me! Ever!"

The hero and villain both stared at the journalist, and something inside Mumbo's mind screamed at him for saying such a stupid thing. He already began to get nervous by the time the two shared a glance.

"Fiiiine.." Xelqua rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. Hot Guy kicked idly at the floor with a pout. "..maybe I could share.." he mumbled out.

And that was how Mumbo found himself more flustered than he'd like to admit in the grasps of two extremely powerful people who were just so oddly infatuated with him. Xelqua laid with his head tucked under Mumbo's arm, his left arm over Mumbo's stomach and his legs linked around Mumbo's right thigh. Hot Guy had opted to tuck Mumbo's left side into his chest with his right arm over Mumbo's chest and his left pillowing Mumbo's head. One of Xelqua's wings covered the three of them together, blanketing them in a sort of nice warmth that Mumbo didn't know could come from wings.

The journalist could practically feel the animosity radiating off the two, but he could really care less about their feelings for each other. He rested one hand in Xelqua's hair, and the other on Hot Guy's hand. Both the villain and hero made pleased noises at the touches. Mumbo rolled his eyes. "Goodness, the both of you are complete dorks."

Mumbo would just pretend that his cheeks weren't bright pink.

#RRHGGAAAHH #genuinely love thme #thanks for the ask! #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #grian #hOtgUy #cUtEgUy #xelqua #hero!scar #villain!grian #hero scar #villain grian #buttercup trio #mumscarian #redscape #grumbo #hermitshipping #creative writing #fanfic #drabble

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Title: My Eyes Could See The Glory Fandom: Hemitcraft Rating: Teen & Up Ships: platonic Grian & Mumbo, later it will be romantic but we aren't there yet ok Warnings: graphic depictions of corpses, panic / fear of death, minor / unnamed character death

Summary:

The apocalypse snuck up on the world slowly, much slower than anyone could have predicted. No one even noticed at first, aside from maybe scientists and those paranoid folk. People with panic bunkers, three years of rations, and his short-wave radio, just waiting for the worst to happen with a kind of glee. Whether any of it did them any good in the end, Mumbo had no idea. OR: Mumbo meets a monster in the middle of the apocalypse. Things go better than expected.

Reblogs appreciated! :D

#ben chats shit on the internet #hermitcraft #hermitblr #fanfiction #fanfic #grumbo #grian #mumbo jumbo #horror #grumbo apocalypse monster au

[cuppup]

Happy Easter to everyone. Since I read @thathermitweirdo new chapter for their fic "Love is Vexing" I decided to make some Fan content for the ships that are in which are Grumbo and Scardubs.

(I'm sorry Thathermitweirdo, I saw this pose on Pinterest and it was too funny to pass on, I'm very sorry about this edit that I did. 😭😭😭😭😭)

Credit to Cinnabunzart on Twitter for this pose.

#grian #hermitcraft #grumbo #hermitshipping #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #bdubs #scardubs #hermitcraft fanfic #to an extent #i found this on pinterest #and though wow image what ships I can edit with this #which Grumbo and Scardubs hit me after reading the new chapter of the fanfic #I don't know if I regret it or not