#maybe someone who where’s Elytra nonstop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

star-captain · 4 years

Text

So Much Better

Angst? Yes please! I’ve had the honor to give Red’s au life, to create a story around his amazing artwork. And I can’t help but latch onto the dramatic scene of Edolas Mumbo meeting his Hermit self.

The Edolas team has found themselves in the Hermit world, and are meeting people with the same face, but different personality. Edolas Mumbo’s insecurities rise and boil over when he comes face to face with a better version of himself.

Edolas AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Warning: Alcoholism, Violence, drug mention

It’s been some time since the hermits have been open to visitors from other worlds. A new world can be stressful, and it’s best just to keep to themselves while they sort it all out. Better to deal with their own chaos before adding in someone else’s. But eventually, trouble finds them.

From the Edolas world, it was just natural to explore what’s beyond. Xisuma makes it impossible not to be curious about what’s on the other side of his crazy portals he macgyvers together. And when Scar ultimately pushes Mumbo in, Grian has to jump after. Everyone else follows in after, with Impulse being dragged in last by an overzealous Zedaph. Black ground bursts out from the portal, massive stone pillars capturing the energy of floating crystals between the tongs. Purple mist swirls beneath the glass at their feet, every so often lightning snapping across the cloudy air.

“Oh, that definitely didn’t take long.” Scar chuckles, peering over the nether portal. “Though I definitely was expecting visitors of the more...pig variety.”

“Scar?” Edolas Grian coos, tilting his head and looking at the man above the crowd. He has the exact same face, the same voice as Scar, but he acts completely different. He’s...well, he’s cheery, friendly.

“That’s not me man.” Edolas Scar growls, looking at the dopey version of himself before him.

“Aha! I knew it! Alternate Universes! Worlds with the same people, experiencing different choices!” Edolas Xisuma scrabbles up the smooth obsidian monument, practically hopping onto Scar and scaring the daylights out of him. “They are obviously nothing like us! I mean, this Scar here is in his underwear!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault the infinity portal forgot my pants!” Scar whines. He looks across the group, pushing the feral scientist off his perch. They all look like his friends, and yet nothing like the other hermits. It’s creepy. It’s cool. It’s magical. “You should definitely check out the other hermits, then. They’re a pretty awesome bunch, if I do say so myself.”

“If they’re anything like you, they’re bound to be strange.” Mumbo grumbles, keeping close to Grian. He’d rather just go back to his world. He doesn’t want to meet with whatever there is out in this world. And he definitely doesn’t want to see what his alternate self is like. If he’s nothing like Mumbo, then he’s obviously not cool. He’s obviously a dork, a baby. He’s probably...Mumbo shakes the thoughts away from his head. He’s not letting those thoughts give themselves credence. If only he had some vodka on him, there’s no faster way to get rid of such thoughts.

So of course the first person Scar offers for them to see is this world’s Mumbo. “I think him and the other Architechs are doing some sort of get together. I know Iskall and Mumbo are partners, but I don’t know what Grian has to offer. Cactus maybe?”

“Why would this place’s Iskall want to partner with Mumbo? I can hardly stand this jackass.” Edolas Iskall sneers, glaring at Mumbo. Mumbo flips the bird back, hiding it from Grian. He knows Grian doesn’t like getting into arguments, but Mumbo thrives off conflict. He tries to keep it hidden from his friend. To keep him from getting anxiety from the tension.

“Mumbo is a really cool dude. Trust me, his work is amazin. “ Scar cheers, guiding the crew into the depths of the jungle, heading westward. “He’s super smart, he makes these machines that just blow my mind with all kinds of redstone.”

“Definitely the opposite of our Mumbo. I don’t think he can count to ten...unless it’s ten shots.” Edolas Scar hisses, stepping way too close to Mumbo’s personal space for his liking. Mumbo shoves him away, muscles tightening as he listens to Scar talk. Both Scars are beyond annoying, for different reasons. The Scar Mumbo knows is annoying because he’s a prick, a jackass who can’t shut his mouth unless it’s broken for him. This ‘hermit’ Scar is annoying because he won’t be quiet about things. He won’t stop talking about all the amazing achievements that his Mumbo has done. An entire company with automated delivery, walking houses and hands-free machines.

The more Scar talks about Hermit Mumbo, the more Edolas Mumbo hates him. He’s smart, and popular. Even this Scar likes him. Mumbo, on the other hand, struggles to even keep Grian around. Why would Grian want to stay around him? He’s not smart, or popular. He’s not jubilant or silly like this one seems to be. No, Edolas Mumbo is a piece of shit with nothing good to his name. The only thing he’s smart on is the best kind of drinks and drugs, he’s only popular when it comes to seducing people.

The group arrives at the quiet river, the potatoes growing before the circular hovel nestled in the hillside. Across the river, a series of machines are running at lightning pace. Xisuma can’t help being drawn to the inventions, optimized to give the best products in the shortest amount of time. Iron farms working nonstop, sugarcane growing as fast as possible, and a smelter cooking without a single coal wasted.

“Hey Mumbo! I have some friends that would love to meet you!” Scar yells, poking his head through where a door should be. It seems Scar isn’t the only one to fall victim of the Jungle Bandit.

“I wouldn’t say ‘love’.” Mumbo hisses. He winces as Grian slaps his shoulder lightly.

“Be kind, Mumbo. We’re guests, and you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Grian whispers.

Three familiar faces peer out the massive glass window. All three are easy to identify, though some more than others. Iskall still has his emerald eye, but rather than an eternal frown on his face, his cheeks are creased with dimples. Grian has an evil glint in his eye, practically rushing down the ladder to meet the strangers at the doorstep.

The two Mumbo’s simply stare at one another. The same face, same black hair and smooth mustache, on completely different people. Hermit Mumbo’s hair is slicked back, neat and tidy. His mustache is well trimmed, and he wears a well tailored suit. Edolas Mumbo’s hair sticks out in every direction, like he just woke up from a drunken stupor. Probably because he did. Piercings litter his face, cool metal brushing against his frazzled mustache and hair. Mumbo looks at his clothes, dirty and stained with alcohol and...well, other things. He just grabbed whatever was the least dirty, wore it out to party last night then fell asleep in it.

Hermit Grian flies up, locking in on his counterpart. Edolas Grian squeaks, hiding behind Mumbo. “Whoa, I look good in every world.”

Grian tugs on his bowtie, gulping as he dares to look closer at himself. Hermit Grian can barely keep still, bouncing from foot to foot and even fluttering the elytra wings on his back. Mumbo steps back between the two, seeing the mischievous glitter in Hermit Grian’s eyes. He’s seen that kind of trouble before. This one is a little shit. A gremlin. Nothing like the ball of anxiety behind him. Edolas Grian couldn’t even knock over a punching bag without apologizing.

Hermit Grian looks up, surprised by the angry face. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen Mumbo make that kind of a stare. Daggers cutting through him, like some terrifying biker or punk rocker. “I don’t know if I like Mumbo with ear piercings however.”

“Tough, because they’re staying.” If anything, now he wants to get more. Just to spite the gremlin in front of him.

“You’re me?” Mumbo questions, appearing from his hobbit hole. “Wow...I look...I look…” Mumbo is at a loss of words, glancing over his Edolas counterpart. He looks badass, like some guy who knows how to find trouble and win. He’d make a better mole than Hermit Mumbo.

But under the gaze of Hermit Mumbo, Edolas Mumbo can feel every part of him being scrutinized. His sloppy dress, the alcohol on his breath. Every insecurity, every vice and weakness is under a microscope.

“This is the man of the hour, let me just say. I mean, look at this awesome iron farm he just built!” Scar waves the group over to Mumbo’s work. “How many iron ingots does it make?”

Hermit Mumbo scuffles his feet, blushing. “Oh, something like 3,000 ingots and hour. It’s not the fastest, but it’s more than enough for me.”

Mumbo rolls his eyes as the others gasp in awe. What a waste of energy. Who even needs 3,000 ingots? Mumbo can think of a thousand better things to waste his time on than making such ridiculous contraptions. Hermit Mumbo is just lazy. Smart, smarter than Edolas Mumbo, but surely he’s lazy.

At least, until he starts to show his current project. Edolas Grian gravitates towards Hermit Mumbo, enjoying the calm and funny personality. And that infuriates Mumbo. Even his best friend things this useless brainiac is better than him? Grian points at the half-finished machine, in awe with wide eyes. Wrapped into the conversation. “What does this do, Mumbo?”

Hermit Mumbo goes into some long winded explanation, and the second Mumbo hears his own voice, he tunes out. But he can’t help but watch as his own friends are rapt with Mumbo’s words. Xisuma is taking notes at a feverish pace, and even Scar is listening to the suited version of Mumbo.

No one is better than me. Mumbo reminds himself. He may not be as smart, or as popular, or as funny, or as kind as Hermit Mumbo. But he’s cooler. He’s sly, he’s independent, he’s the life of the fucking party. This guy… this guy can’t stop talking about t-flops or whatever.

Edolas Mumbo sneers as Edolas Scar looms close, resting his arm on Mumbo’s jacket. “Would you look at that. Even your best friend prefers this version to you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mumbo steps back, letting Scar fall flat on his face. But Mumbo looks at Grian, both Grians listening intently to Mumbo show off his spectacular knowledge. The machine starts to fire, turning the farm on and beginning it’s collection.

Even he is better than me. Mumbo can’t build incredible designs, machines that make life easier, that astonish and astound. Machines that Mumbo could never even begin to imagine, much less build himself. He can hardly even get the key of his own apartment into the lock most days. Mumbo can’t make friends, even the people he hangs out with most would rather eat fermented spider eye than call him an ally. He’s not funny unless he’s got a cocktail of drugs mixing up his mind and body. And the last thing anyone, even Grian, would call Mumbo is kind. He’s an asshole, a bastard. A rubbish friend and an even more rubbish person. A waste of space. A waste of time, a waste of effort.

Mumbo rolls his eyes, but he hears Edolas Grian’s bright voice over the amazement of the others. “You’re so cool, Mumbo! You can make all this incredible stuff, and you’re smart enough to explain it all. And kind enough to show us it all, I can’t imagine thinking of all this. This has to be why so many people ask you for help!”

Edolas Mumbo can hear something snap, like a bone breaking in his own mind. His own heart. Grian never called him smart, or kind. No one has ever called him anything except a bastard, or a fucker, or an asshole. He hardly feels his fists clench, looking at his own face. How long has Mumbo wanted to punch himself, to beat himself up? To give him what he deserves? How often has he looked in the mirror, drunk and high, and just wanted to knock himself out?

“Oh, it’s nothing really, mate. I’m honestly not that good, you should see something like Impulse.” Hermit Mumbo overs a shy smile, eyes closed as he smooths back his hair. His awkward chuckle is cut short as a rough grip wraps around his neck. Hermit Mumbo’s legs kick out as the raging grip raises him from the grass. He forces his eyes open, hand grabbing at the tattooed arm- of himself.

“Stop being better than me!” Edolas Mumbo shouts, fists shaking and a prick of tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Mumbo looks down the arm holding him up, head tipped high but eyes glancing down to see his own face. He gasps for air, holding onto the arm suspending him in the air. And despite being physically in peril, he can see that he’s not the one suffering as much as Edolas Mumbo. In shared grey eyes, he can see the pain, the fear.

Edolas Mumbo is terrified. Everyone thinks this Mumbo is so much better- because they’re right. He is a thousand times better than him. Scar prefers him, Xisuma prefers him. Even his best friend, Grian, prefers this Mumbo to him. They’ll ditch Mumbo in no time, in lieu of so much better a version. He’s nothing compared to the amazing, perfect person he has grasped in his hand. He’s just a bastard, someone that everyone hates. Someone that everyone wants gone.

“Mumbo! Stop it, what are you thinking?” Both Mumbos look over, seeing Edolas Grian with tears streaking down his face. Torn between wanting to tell his friend off for being so aggressive, and wanting to calm him down. But for Edolas Mumbo, seeing his best friend crying because of him lets him know that he’s done it again. He’s fucked it all up again, because he can’t handle his own emotions. He can’t control himself, he can’t be anything except a piece of shit and a walking disaster.

Mumbo let’s go of his own neck, lightly setting Hermit Mumbo onto his feet. The tiny tears have grown to full floods, guilt and regret and hatred all boiling over. Despite the soft landing, Mumbo still falls to his knees, trying to regain control of his heartbeat and body. He looks up, wanting to ask himself what the problem was. Why he was more afraid than Hermit Mumbo.

But he’s gone, a cavity bored through the crowd that surrounded him. Hermit Grian steps in, looking at Mumbo’s neck. It’s red, but not bruised. Despite the anger in Edolas Mumbo’s grip, he couldn’t bring himself to actually hurt another person for no reason other than wanting to bring pain to himself. Grian looks at the shaking Grian. “I think he needs some help.”

---------------------------

“Mumbo?” Grian whispers, peeking his head into the empty bar. It’s midday, but he knew that if Mumbo was going to go anywhere, it was here. This is his favorite haunt, where he can get the cheapest prices on drinks, find the best new addictions, and hit up the next morning’s mistake.

There’s only two people in the dark, smoky bar. The bartender, who nods to the end of the line of stools. The darkest corner. Mumbo is surrounded by an assortment of bottles, shots, and whiskey glasses. Mumbo’s head is against the glistening and sticky counter, hand still clutching the current bottle. Grian creeps closer, clambering onto the stool next to Mumbo.

“I thought you’d rather be with that perfect version of me.” Mumbo growls, turning his gaze away from his friend. “And why wouldn’t you, huh?”

“Mumbo, I-” Grian flinches back as Mumbo snaps at him, cutting him off. He can smell the alcohol on his breath. This may not be the first time Grian has had to help Mumbo through a bout of alcohol poisoning. Hopefully he won’t need the hospital this time.

“Just leave me, get something better than this piece of shit. Someone smarter than me, kinder than me. Someone who can actually do something useful with their life. Who’s good at so many things. Redstone, being nice, being funny and friendly and smart and such a great person!” Mumbo grasps the bottle in his hand until the glass shatters, shards digging into his skin. Grian has never seen his best friend so low. He’s afraid, not for his own safety. For Mumbo’s. “And what am I good at? Nothing. Nothing except overdosing in an alley outside a bar.”

Mumbo’s head snaps to the side, cheek stinging and burning red. His eyesight is set straight, free from the drunken stupor for just a moment. Just enough to look back, and see Grian. With his hand still up, and his face creased with sorrow and tears. Deep valleys as he holds back his own cries. Not because he’s sad for himself. But sad for Mumbo. “How could you say such a thing? How could you honestly think that any of us would want you any different than who you are?”

“Because he’s-”

“Because he’s you? He’s not you, Mumbo. He’s got a different world, a different life. A different place that he grew up in. A different set of vices and worries than you.” Grian scoots the stool closer, forcing Mumbo to listen. “He’s smart, and kind. But that doesn’t make us ever want to get rid of you! You are wild, and clever, and there’s not another person in this world that would step into a fight for any one of us. Even for Scar, if it came down to it.”

“Great, so I’m just you guys’s bodyguard.” Mumbo hisses, looking at the glass buried in his fingers.

“No, Mumbo! Just...for once listen to me, for fuck’s sake!” The sharp curse that crosses over Grian’s lips is enough to snap Mumbo back to his words. Grian never swears, he’s too much of a goody-two-shoes for that. “We are your friends because we want to be! We hang out with you because we enjoy it! Just because one person is different than you doesn’t mean you’re any better or worse!”

Mumbo’s voice is gone from his lips, and all he can do is breathe in and out. He can’t think of any retort for Grian’s words. Just one thing. “I messed up, Grian.”

“We all mess up. But the important thing is learning from it. Learning from our mistakes, and being better from it. Maybe...one day we can go back and smooth things over with Hermit Mumbo. But...for now, let’s get you some help.”

33 notes · View notes