i know it’s like years old at this point but i love that one collab mumbo and grian did with tommyinnit bc it’s like the single most concentrated example i’ve seen of mumbo’s Chaos Nullification Powers
you get to see a bit of it on hermitcraft, mostly via his interactions with grian, but until seeing that collab it didn’t really hit me just how completely mumbo can no-sell other people’s attempts to control a situation. tommyinnit is possibly the single shoutiest, most chaotic minecraft youtuber out there, and in most videos i’ve seen he pretty much overwhelms everyone else and sets the tone for interactions because of this. but mumbo just. doesn’t let him. no matter how much tommy escalates in intensity, mumbo reacts with *exactly* the same energy he always does. grian largely comes across in the whole video as annoyed and reluctant to engage with the whole thing, but mumbo’s not even affected. he just rolls with anything he finds funny and basically ignores anything he disapproves of, only seeming more and more unflappable the harder anyone tries to get a rise out of him.
AND imo, this is the key to my favorite interpretation of him as a character
see, when the people around him are being more reasonable/calm, i think mumbo often comes across as anxious and a bit easily overwhelmed. the thing is, his nervous wet cat vibes do not scale. he has one setting. his responses to the last life ‘ah-ha!’ jokes and to hermitcraft 8 starting to crumble to pieces under a falling moon are almost identical.
mumbo jumbo is inexorably and eternally Just Some Guy, but that gets stranger and stranger the weirder his surroundings become. the giggly incredulousness that makes him an easy target for goofy puns looks Very different when it’s also his reaction to the impending end of the world.
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I’ve been thinking about “mean” (okay no they’re mean) characters.
Specifically, I’m thinking about Rook “Duke” Alistair being best friends with Actual Assassin and meanest bastard around, Velikan.
They’ve known each other since her early days back in the Air Force. Maybe Duke, freshly nicknamed and bright-eyed, got caught up in some sort of ambush with a shiny new unit.
And maybe Velikan was going to kill her as collateral, but for reasons not even he knows, he didn’t.
And now he’s got this duckling (she’s even blond and fluffy like one) that’s practically imprinted on him. Every time they cross paths (and they keep crossing paths for some fucking reason) she lights up and waves, babbling updates about her life. She doesn’t mind his gruff tone or his short temper, or the absolute mauling she receives when he finally acquiesces to spar her.
It’s not that she doesn’t know he’s an assassin. Oblivious as she can be, she’s not stupid. Just the opposite, in fact. She recognizes that approaching him at any point is like sticking a hand in a tiger cage. And yet she still does it, even when they’re out in the field.
How she’s not dead yet, for pure annoyance alone, he’s not sure. But he figures that she’s spent so much time being an inconvenience to him specifically that he’s earned the right to put an end to her.
And then he’s not sure how she isn’t dead from natural selection.
“I thought you were military,” he hisses, brushing dirt off her shirt and pants. Why is he doing so? Because he’s annoyed that she slipped on pile of wet leaves.
“I am!”
“You have no discipline, no coordination, and no sense of self preservation.”
She beams. “I think that last thing is something they encourage, actually.”
He stuffs her into a good hideout and tells her to stay while he takes care of their his tail.
It’s not just the slipping, tripping, and falling. If anything would make him believe in luck, it’s Duke having the worst of it. Falling objects and loose floorboards, changes in a guard rotation or a light coming on at the worst moment. She’s smart and quick enough to watch out for herself, but only just.
Maybe he lets her live out of pure bafflement. Morbid fascination with someone so smart and yet so—
“Stupid,” he growls, dunking her head in the rain barrel.
She comes up sputtering, but giggling. “This isn’t how you’re supposed to treat acid exposure.”
He dunks her under again for good measure. She shakes off on him like a dog afterwards and he genuinely tries to strangle her. But then she gets her sharp little teeth in his arm and bites, proceeds to inform him that he’s going to need antibiotics with a bloody smile.
Is he going to personally bring about her violent, gory end? Yes.
Is she also his best friend? Somehow.
“Do you think cinnamon floss or mint floss is better for improvised stitches?”
“I think you should just bleed out.”
“It’s not for me, dummy…. Yet.”
He’s not relieved when she gets the position with the CIA, but something close to it.
They hire him for their dirty work often enough that he sees her regularly. Her ridiculous, cluttered desk and her grotesque stash of snacks and her constant rotation of injuries because they still let her near machinery.
“You stink,” he scoffs, lifting her right out of her chair as she squeals. “You are taking a shower.”
And because she has the attention span of a fly, he goes in with her. She fusses when he gets soap in her mouth or eyes, but he just tuts that it wouldn’t happen if she were capable of doing it herself. And dignity? Long forgotten as he scrubs her down from head to toe, pinching when she complains about being babied.
“Do not act like a child, then,” he gruffs, throwing a towel in her face.
Honestly, Laswell should be ashamed.
“When was the last time you ate?” He demands, squishing her cheeks with a little shake. “Eh? When was the last time you had something other than blue candy?”
“‘S raspberry.”
“Are raspberries blue? No. They teach this in school. All that sugar has rotted out your little brain.”
It turns out the answer to his food question was “too long.” He trades her potatoes for carrots, but only after holding her nose closed until he could force peas in her stubborn mouth.
Ridiculous, really.
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I think something that often gets overlooked about the Lonely is that it isn’t just the fear of being rejected, abandoned, and unloved.
It is that, but it’s also the heavy sense of dread that settles in your bones when you realize that whatever danger you’re in, you have to deal with it on your own. It’s the realization that no one is around to hear you scream and that no one is coming to save you. It’s the feeling of calling emergency services (911, 119, etc.) and asking the operator when help is coming, only to be told that no one is coming, because they’re all tied up on other calls right now, so it may be another hour or so before anyone gets to you. It’s the visceral terror you feel when you finally realize that the help you need is never going to come, or if it does, they won’t be there until it’s already too late for you. It’s realizing that you’ll never see your loved ones again, and wondering if anyone will ever find your body, if anyone is going to care that you’re gone, if anyone is ever going to find out what happened to you, if anyone is even going to realize that you’re dead.
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Send this in the group chat and try not to be annoyed when your friends get your vibe all wrong
1- Black vulture (Coragyps atratus)
2- Harnessed tiger moth (Apantesis phalerata)
3- American badger (Taxidea taxus)
4- Long-tailed salamander (Eurocentric longicauda)
5- American alligator (Alligator mississippiensis)
A- Trumpet pitchers (Sarracenia spp)
B- Destroying Angel mushroom (Amanita bisporigera)
C- Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale)
D- California palm (Washingtonian filifera)
E- Fireweed (Chamerion angustifolium)
!- Obsidian
$- Turquoise
%- Pyrite
#- Copper
@- Lapis lazuli
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