#aggressivewrites

Mumbo had requested something he had never yet asked for. A dress. Now, scar is over the moon!! Thoughts fill his mind at every corner, ideas, designs, fabrics, all the sorts. Accessories and more.

The tall man himself had requested a blazer like top, and a skirt that went down just a little bit past his knees. And scar had fallen in love with the idea in seconds. A loud clicking sound leaving him in excitement, quickly rolling off to grab his sketchbook and look at fabric, mumbo following with a huff of noise.

"I- I wasn't even done talking!!" He laughed out, shaking his head as he bent down to fit through the doorway. Light streaming in through large windows overgrown with all sort of forestry. Rolls of fabric covering walls with a large simple desk in the middle. Sewing equipment thoroughly covering the desk. A large sewing machine on the left side. 

"Well I gotta be ready!! Mister mumbo, inspiration hit, and I can only help but follow its lead!!" He laughs lightly as he comes to a stop at his table, reaching for his notebook, he practically throws it open, jotting down the small amout of notes he already has. Clicking his tounge as he turns the page.

Mumbo leans slightly over his shoulder, fiddling with his hands as scar starts with a sketch.

"do you want it flowy or skin tight..?" He trails off a little, looking up at mumbo with eyes that seem to hold every possibility, every thought, everything. The way the brown eyes stay wide and scar grin at mumbo, has mumbos knees weak, and his heart soar. 

"I uh. The, the top I would like skin tight? The blazer? But, the actual dress part I uh, flowy? If that makes sense?" He asks with a bit of hesitance, an awkward smile on his own face.

Scar laughing softly as he jots it down. Adding to the sketch with a grin. "Well of course it is mumbo jumbo!! Why wouldn't it be?" He teases lightly, his eyes staring at the tall man's stature from the corner of his eyes. Said man almost folding more in on himself like he was punished.

"Well, it's, it's it like, we'll, complicated?" He chuckles, leaning down quite a good bit, practically on his knees to drape himself over the back of the wheelchair, and onto scar. Scar letting out a huff of a laugh at this.

"Complicated, won't stop me, remember that suit covered in fake flowers? That was far more complicated then this." He snorts. The sketch, and imagine of the dress blossoming under scars fingers.

With mumbos impossible hight, thin body, and sensory issues, almost everything has to be hand made for him to wear. Abd everything matters, down to the tag, the stitching, and the fabric.

It has to be made with love.

Lucky for mumbo 

Scar has a lot of love for the man, that he can pour into each outfit.

Moments past, and before either of them have the chance to notice, the sketch is down and scar is rolling off to the fabrics. Stopping at the blacks.

"Do you want to pick one that feels nice for the outside?" Scar asks with a chuckle as mumbo walks up, feeling along each fabric with care. Knowing that not only is the fabric expensive, but it must also feel safe. He stops at an almost silky one. Thick with a smooth feel to it. Plain black with lines on it, it a barely noticeable darker black. 

"I think this one will be nice..?" Without missing a beat, scar rolls over, looking at the number of the roll and writing it on his wrist.

It's easy to do the same with the rest. Selections of a red dress, following the silky feel. And a soft and warm white for the inside.

They realize it's easy to follow old habits, of mumbo spinning in circles as scar measures him. Scar kissing small areas he can reach, just to fluster mumbo, no matter how often he does it, the pale man still goes bright red, words getting caught in his throat. Mumbo and scar humming along to the same music. Scar joking the mumbo gets the boyfriend privilege of free clothes, Mumbo huffing out laughs in exchange as he makes a silly joke of how it's surprising that scar isn't trying to milk him out of every last Dimond, scar will comment how he'll milk him for something else with far too much confidence, ans then they'll develop into fits of giggles when scar realizes the implications of what he just said, with red faces. Mumbo sitting with scar and idling around the room on the days scar works on it. 

It's only normal these days to wake up to swaying floors and messy noise. Light peaking through every little corner of the living quarters, lighting the room up like a second sun, directly into his eyes. With squinted eyes, and tired moments, he slrolled over, over, sat up in the center of his hammock, he sets his feet on the wooden floor, feeling as it sways, as it tries to knock him over. With a yawn, and the wave of his hand, he stumbles to the closed door, avoiding all his shipmates sleeping positions, some beds already empty. Slowly creaking open the door, he let warm sunlight reach his eyes. Let the salt reach his lungs.

The as he stumbled out to door, his shoulder slammed into the doorway, causing him to hiss and curse in pure pain. But he managed to keep his nosies of pain down as he stumbled onto the deck. The image of the fae captain, scar, and his first mate. A human named grian, leaning against the rials softly chatting made a small grin spread onto martyns lips. The longing for sea in his dried scales bothering him just slightly, his spices calmed and smoothed against his skin.

Slow and soft steps across the deck let his mind wake just slightly. Glancing up he can see jimmy in the crows nest, the siren no doubt feeling like he's cooked alive as birds try to nip at him. Martyn couldn't imagine being up straight in the sun all day and most of the night. He could already feel his tail flicking at just the idea.

He finds himself also drifting to the rails where grian and scar are, the soft conversation making his heart swell with joy.

"I don't know, I'm thinking that the harvest port would be the best to stop at, its a little far, but if im right cleo has some family there? And no one else has family around the area" Scars said, voice a soft whisper that barely reached martyns ears. Arms folded on the sturdy, but throughly well loved arm rails.

Grian hummed voice unsure as his fingers tapped along his forearm. A steady rhythm that almost sounded like music.

"I don't know, harvest is a little too close to the capital...going there would mean the risk of guards spotting us, and I'm not too comfortable with that.." grians brow scrunched bitting at his lip. Which in turn made scars own brow scrunch at grians worry. There was a reason grian was the first mate. Scar wasn't the best captain. He was great at it, yes, but he lacked that sort of thinking ahead.

Scars hand started to reach for grians face, and martyn decided it was time to ruin the moment, as they clearly hadn't heard him or saw him walk up.

Leaning his own arms on the rails quickly, almost slamming into them and turning to be leaning just over them to be loking at Scar. Startling the two. Scars hand jerking back, and turning a light blue in the cheeks, grians own lightling up slightly.

"What are we talking about?" Martyn asked in a normal tone with a chuckle. Face scrunching as he started at the two with a smug almost knowing smirk.

Grian slid his arm down to his side, where scar couldn't see it, and flipped martyn off, which in turn got him slapped by the mers tail.

"Oh, just where we're stopping next, with the hoildays coming up, we were thinking of stopping somewhere to celebrate, unsure of where." Scar said, voice laced with humor and charm that had martyn not blaming grian for his fancy towards the man. His captins coat open showing the large gashes across his chest in the form of Scars. The large star like cuts under where his breath once where displayed proudly. Martyn had actually been the one to help make the Scars look that way. After having them removed, one day after drinking far far too much, scar had told martyn he wished he had cooler top Scars, and well, the rest was history, now wasnt it?

Nodding simply martyn looked back out to the sea. "We could stop at the timber tide port? That's where me, Jimmy, lizzie, and Scott are from? We don't have any family there, but it's almost completely filled with mer people, and they have a large parade for the middle of winter. Lots of dancing, shopping, shows of magic, all sorts of things." He suggested, slightly rambling about his home, but he doesn't think the two mind when grian nods. Thinking about it for a second, still narrowed. A large pin holding the front of his hair back so they can see the way his forehead wrinkles as he starts to nod a little more, turning to scar.

"I thought you guys were from alice town?" He turns to martyn, face still scrunched, tiltung it at him slightly with a confused look. His sleeveless shirt barely even hanging onto his body. Letting the almost cold air pass through. His brown pants lose and holding on just by his hips, far too long and bunched around his ankles, and they looked big enough that martyn would even say they seemed to be scars. "No, that's just where you found us, we never actually told you guys" Martyn chuckles, watching as the man nodded looking back to the sea, as if the open water will tell him the answer and let him know the future. Empty silence filling the area as grian brought back up his hand, tapping away.

"it's in a swampy area, so there is almost no way gaurd will be there?" Martyn couldn't exactly tell you where that logic made sense, but It felt right on his tongue. In all honesty, he didnt remember much about the area, but Ren was supposed to be there, hidden away in the crowd. And grian seemed to give him an almost knowing look as he turned to scar. The captain smiling brightly, and with a nod, grians full of thought eyes looked right at martyn, and with the way he stared right through his very soul, martyn can't believe he's human.

“We'll talk about it. No promises.” Grians voice was almost stern as he the scared man nodded to the door just across the deck, the doors to the captain's quarters. Rolling his eyes martyn pushes off the rails, dramatic sigh leaving his lips as he walks to the nearest sail post, webbed hands reaching down and holding the still wet thing of rope.

By the time martyn walked back, the two were gone. Which isn't very surprising. And with the morning sun oh his back, and the sounds of the crew waking up, martyn tied one end of the too long rope around his waist tightly, the other end around the rails of the ship. With a huff, martyn looks out to the bright colors. The clouds drifting across the almost cotton candy sky, rich with morning moisture, and making martyn feel far too dried out.

Attempting to wiggle out of his thin night shirt, Martyn could hear the quite talking coming from somewhere on the deck. And yet he paid them no mind as he tossed his shirt onto the deck, and sent himself hurdling off the edge of the ship, rope coming with him.

Starting down at the map, grian and scars eyes didn't leave the nearly secluded area. Days worth of travel away from ant other civilization, even on horse, I would take near a weak if ridding. A sea cliff city. A small port on a lower bay, then at least an hour of hiking to even make it to the city itself.

“I mean…it's not a bad place..?” Scars voiced sounded almost amassed as he glanced up at grian. Green eyes far too unusual. But still just as enticing. The far having the sort of magic around him that almost made you want to agree with everything he said.and grian could almost huff at whatever kind of attempt scar was making.

“Yeah, but martyn also has a thing going on with the king…Ren could very well be there waiting.” grian weakly chuckled, almost as amassed, but still focused. He couldn't count on his fingers how often martyn swayed scar to stop at a port. And then the very next day they saw the poorly disguised king clinging to martyn like a young women who just found her first sailor. Drawn to the distance, and the danger of a pirate.

Scar was silent for a second, the boat slowly rocking, eyes wrinkling, before turning his head up, a determined grin on his face. And grian knew they were doomed. “Yes…but have you heard of the festival? Ive met sailors desperate to go see it back in the navy. But the waters are too dangerous for even most navy ships, and they don't get much of a break.” The captin chuckled, slowly coming to stand up straight, his attitude not changing, as he reached to his side with nimble hands, pulling out a dager with a blade made out of quartz. It wasn't all the usefully, but it certainly was a fancy way to mark a map.

Scared and tanned hand set it on the table, and even with the pink on grins cheeks, he let out an almost disappointed sigh, mostlywith himself as he grapped the danger. Hand fitting comfortably around the handle as if it was made for him to hold.

“Whatever you say, captain.” And the dagger dug right Into the thin paper. Right over the small sea side village.

And honestly? Grian didn't expect it to quite look like this. The towering clif to be carved with what looks to be ancient religious text. For little mers, with big round eyes, and thick and spiked tails, and fins larger then their head to be diving off the cliff that would almost tower over the Castle itself. The doc covered in boxes of fish, and even more crates, a few small fishing ships passing in and out. The mer folks chatting.and sone even with wet hair in the chill temperature. All the crew out on deck. Large grins, and with small bags of coins.

With years spent with the 4 mers aboard the same ship, grian had come to learn of the antifreeze deep in their blood. Even as the crew themselves started to wearing thicker clothing, and keep the inside of the boat heated, well. Lizzie stood against the railing, clawed hands digging into the wood, and for a second grian is almost scared it's gonna break. The lure hanging from her forehead giving off a soft white that grian can barely see, white and cloudy eyes look directly at the land coming closer. The small fins inplace of her ears folded back, and gills fluttering around her neck. Hands tap along the rails of the ship, and grian is a little worried she’ll jump overboard, but with how often martyn does it, he can't say he's actually tooworried. And thin, silky fabric, bunches around her waist.

He was told it was a cultural dress, giving to all members on that day they “grow into their fins” he doesn't question but stares slightly at the tealfabric, flowing down, but cutting off at her ankles, a hole in the back designed with lizzies short, almost triangle tail in wind. Sewn on shell causing her dress to clank with each turn. The top a slightly less see-through pink, the sleeves acting more like a scarf then anything else. And with grians scarft tight around his neck, and his wool under layers on, grian almost wishes he could just feel so comfortable in such little clothing.

As the island comes into view, it's clear all their in their town clothing. Outfits clearer then they've been in months. Hair brushed. just looking at the mers of the ship, it seems like they scrubbed each individual scale. Etho and joel seemed to have brushed their fur like their lives depended on it. Cleos stiching looks brand new. Scar is actually qearing a shirt under his coat. Bdubs looks like someone helped water him these last few day with how green his coat is, and yet grian cant see a single area where the vines peek out of his clay mold. And grian won't deny they all look good, when they aren't somehow covered in dirt, sea water, and smell of week old sweat.

Scar manning the wheel, and grian barking out orders to help with the docking as they pull into the harbor. Easily the biggest ship there. They lower the red, yellow, and green flag as everyone makes work.

Salt in the air is something the burns, but grian can't taste it, as the cold bites even harder.

Martyn can't express thr joy he feels as he reaches the gates, having ran ahead of the group the second it came into view, out of breath due to the uphill run, he turns around only for jimmy to crash into him, leaving him giggling loudly. They almost tip over, but martyn manages to stop the fall, arms wrapping around jimmy as he squeezes tightly shaking the man.

They don't say anything more then loud, unbelieving laughs as they hold and shake each other as hard as possible.

Looking up and meeting Jimmy's eyes, brings not a single butterfly to his stomach, as his hands reach out, grabbing Jimmy's face and kissing for just a moment out a pure joy, he can hear the crew snickering back just a little bit down the trail, before a nether born and a fellow mer start shoving martyn away, a laugh on their lips as tango and Scott continue to elbow him from both sides. Making martyn sway, he eventually puts his hands up and backs up.

“Hey, now come onnnnn, rhats just meaaannn, especially since we had that four-” martyns teasing words are quickly cut off by tango kicking him in the balls, a high groan of pain leaves martyn as he doubles over, grabbing his spot of pain, looking at jimmy in betrayal, as the flustered siren hides his face, and laughs loudly at his pain.

“Martyn. Judt shut up.” Scott giggles out as he layers an arm around Jimmy's waist, pulling the much taller siren to his side. Scotts fins flaring out, as jimmy cant help but laugh more falling onto scotts side, hunched over with his head on his shoulder, back curved as he laughs loudly, tail flicking across the dirt in joy.

Tangos hair roars, and martyn can see how the ground around his feet is slightly scorched.

Martyn ends up walking in, flipping the rest of the crew off as he decides to wander to the market, coins at his side. And spikes along his spin poking up, as his small tail looks to be a slight danger, semi puffed up. Leaving the groups snickering.

Martyn quickly finds himself an inn. Making sure to reserve a room for the next few nights, before he hits the town. The sun has started to set, leaving it all painted in sweet yellows as a few mers go around, lighting up lanterns.

Now, martyn is aware most people aren't aware, but fish are most active at night, or early morning. And so. The two market is just starting to fill with stalls, and lights. Martyns shoes tied around his waist as so he could walk bare foot. His clawed and webbed feet making it all the more easier to enjoy it.

The moon cast a loving glow on the town and its people, and martyn can see the gentle glow of some of his scales. And as he looks around. He sees others, in the cool winter air, also glowing.

His hands drift along the small metal piece. A decoration that goes around your jaw, made to look like wolf teeth. A truly stunning silver color.

Martyn doesnt hesitate as he talks with the seller in an almost deamy state, he finds himself almost getting land sick with how often he's on sea. But he doesn't say anything as he slides over the far too many coins. And gently slips on the garment. It fits nicely, a bit lose, but he can't help but feel excited to wear it.

Martyn will argue with you to the death about it, but he most definitely buys far too much jewelry, and gets his shoes shinned, and buys the local newspaper, and gets a set of tiny little wolves made out of bone. And maybe he stopped at the tavern. Made he let himself have a nice drink. And maybe his coins for the day is almost out. But when his shoulder hits a man wearing a red cloak in the passing streets, he's very aware he isn't a mer. Nor apart of his crew. Throwing himself around, he's met with a sight that take his breath away, standing there, seeming to have planned it. With his commoner clothing on, and a shirt far too open, is Ren. His king.

Martyn can't say he remembers much of the night, but he knows Ren tasted like home. And felt like heaven. Every last bit of him.

Grians breath catches in his throat, he had been at the town, for maybe two days. Two days of seeing the village's wonders, two days of spending far too much money, and two days of not seeing a wink of most of his crew. He'd seen jimmy about three times, having spent the c first day with Scott and tango, spending the second with lizzie, joel, Scott, and this one of the town they all aparently knew, a clown fish mer named Owen.

He'd seen mumbo quite a bit tho, the first half of the first day, mumbo was on his own, before the rest of the time he hung out with grian and scar, not wanting to go anywhere. Etho was off an on, hed seen etho with almost everyone, bdubs normally following.

All in all, grian was completely alone in his stay at an inn. No one else from the crew staying there. The inn keep had told him at half down to come in, yo come in, hang out, and wait for the sun to set.

In which he had busied himself with a sewing needle and a torn shirt. It would probably be best to ask cleo to do it, but without a book, or much of anything, sewing seems like the best bet.

Suddenly, he can hear music, between the thin walls, something loud, happy, they makes him wonder just how beautiful it's gonna be. The entire trip Martyn had talked up the festival. Not shutting up about just how beautiful is is.

Slowly steps down the stairs, creaking every few moment. It wonky take a second for him to reach the bottom of the stairs. The door to leave the inn wide open. Letting grian see the glimpses of the festival.

Of bright colors across the streets, of everyone in thin silky dresses, dancing, and twirling to the music.

And grian almost hesitates. Almost. But slow easy steps leave the inn. Walking into the the streets as the sun sets.

The lanterns that once hung all around the roads, now with stained glass, lighting up the town.and grian leaves his shoes at the door. Walking out into the midst of the dancing, that seems to fill every road.

He feels under dressed in the middle of it all. As bright colors fill his vision. He slowly walks down the path to the market place as he feels his mind spasm with pure awe.

Everyone moves to naturally, like this is where they belong, in the fast moments, music louder then the ringing in grians ears. And grian almost swears he's in a fantasy novel, as people turn.

Some are as wet as can be, and they laugh so loudly as water goes flying. Some women has her hair in what seems to be bubble braids as she stomps, kicking and sending dirt flying with a smile.

Everyone is glowing, the lanterns not the only thing lighting up the sky.

Some little boy about half grians height with glowing pink eyes breaks his trance. The octopus mer having 8 arms, and horizontal slits in his eyes, grabs grians hands, pulling him into the spinning.

And grian laughs. Of course he does. It's high, and near a shrill as the young boy spins grian. The boys pink dress fanning out as he let's out a similar laugh. Grian feels himself bump into someone, about to apologize, untill they take him as their dance partner, before leading him stumbling into someone else.

Grian isn't quite sure how long he dances, but at some point, he knows all the words, and he can feel his voice wearing down.

(Hi!! You made it!! Listen cake, I'm aware we haven't known each other long, but you have very quickly become an important part of my life<33 I'm sorry most of the time I text you, I'm tripping, it's not ment in ill intentions!! It's just that I generally feel safe enough with you, to talk, and call, and all that, with you, when in that state. When I'm lonely, and everything feels weird, you're the first person I think about. Also, I really liked that cowboy hat you showed me, I don't think I expressed that!! It was a really cool hat!! I generally enjoy talking to you, and when you ranted to me after a breakdown, it made my heart soar. I really hope you know, you're not a secondary friend of mine, even with my girlfriend, you place super high up there, as someone I'm close with<333)

“It’s not my fault…”

Martyns voice was more of a defensive huff than him actually talking, despite the fact it, very much was his vault. Small green parakeet wings puffing up with his defensive words. Jimmy just sighed into his hand. Gesturing at the man sat on his couch. Trying to find something to say to him before grian takes the words right out of his mouth.

“Pray tell, how exactly is this, “not your fault”?” grains voice grumbles out, arms folded over his chest, his own wings spread awkwardly in the arm chair, as if to show his own emotion, even though it was clearer than need be across his face.

Martyn wasnt born an avian. That was just a simple fact, he wasnt born anything even near human like, to be completely honest. Being a mimic, martyn was more of…a moving glob of sludge when he was born. One that jimmy and grian were warned against growing up.

Being two little kids they thought martyn was more of their…new shared pet between the two. Martyn would hide in grains garage one week, and jimmys backyard the next. Well. that was until one day jimmy went out and on his porch sat a boy with the exact same shade of blonde hair as himself. And grains brown eyes. And a height right between the two. And he just waved, flashing the, at the time, human, a large toothy grin that jimmy knew well, and waving his hand.

After those days, no one really, knew martyn was a mimic, that he just copied traits as he went, eventually his eye color changed, and he started to become more of his own person. A person who was really just a collection of the people he loved.

When grian texted jimmy this time though, jimmy is going to be honest, he didnt expect the words. “Martyn decided to grow wings.” it was not on jimmy bucket list, hes going to be completely honest. Of course he invited the two over, to talk this out of course, but, there hasnt been much talking about it. No. it’s been mostly martyn denying that he meant to do this and the two only questioning him further.

How the actual fuck do you explain mimic courting to an avian and a guy cursed with bird wings? You dont. Thats how.

“Listen it’s just, not my fault, i didnt mean to.” martyn said. Bargaining for the two to just, let the subject drop. Jimmys wings puffing up, making all the wings in the room puffed up and spread out in some form of emotion. “Cant you like, control your form??” jimmy asked, his voice raising as he stressed the words, both hands flaring out gesturing at martyn.

“Normally yeah!! But not right now!! So can you please, show me how to take care of them while theyre stuck to my fucking back?” he pleads, curling up further and holding his head, grian’s sigh is far more disappointed than what jimmy has ever thought hes ever heard. Pinching the bridge of his nose.

Sighing deeply as he decides to give in, standing up and folding his wings against his back.

“Bloody- fine. I guess martyn. Lay down on your stomach. On the floor. “ he grumbles looking over to jimmy. Martyn lets out a breath he knew he was holding in. chest heaving with relief, at finally being left alone. And jimmy lets out a sigh as well. The 3 only mirroring each other without really noticing it.

“I’ll make us some tea.” he says, finding his way out of the room for his own mental sake.

“This is called preening.” grian said, hands on the base of martyns wings, as he sat on the small of his back, sharp talons picking scratching at the skin, causing martyn to let out a happy sigh at the feeling. “You’ll need to do it just about every other day to keep your wings from hurting.” martyn nods turning his head to look at jimmy, who sits with his back against the couch, sipping at his own mug of tea watching the two.

‘True avians, like grian, only let people they trust preen their wings.” jimmy pipes up as he grins at martyn’s relaxing and happy face. “You preen grian wings all the time.” martyn says quietly, half a question and half a statement. And jimmy only grins. “He preens mine too.” jimmy trails off, sentence ending as he sort of changes topics. “Ill let you preen mine when you get better at your own.” jimmy states and martyn feels the smallest flare of joy in his chest at the words. Jimmy would trust him with that. Maybe martyn does have a chance.

“Youd have to cut off my wings before i let you.” grian said jokingly as his hands move through the outer feathers. Silently hoping martyn learns by the way it feels. But martyn just lays like a puddle on the floor as talons move through his new found wings. A small trill rises in his throat as he closes his eyes and lets himself become one with the floor. It isnt uncommon for martyn to trill as he often picked up vocal habits from the two. But from some reason in the smallest bit where his eyes are still open he sees jimmy.s face turn pink. How odd. He doesnt say anything about it, because thatd be like pointing out the way grian has always rested the ends of his wings on their backs. Thatd be like pointing out the way martyn inspects them, or the way hes never made himself look exactly like the two. It’d be crazy to do so. It’d just be calling eachother out, and if martyn calls them out, then they can call him out, and that never ends well for anyone.

Martyn hums, stretching his arms out across the floor, only relaxing more into it as grian goes further. “You pull out any bent or broken feathers, straighten out the other ones, and scratch out the dirt.” grian says absentmindedly like he isnt quite paying attention anymore to his words and just trying to get the job done. Martyn does see anyone reach for the remote, but he hears the clicks of it and the sound of the tv turning on. “What do you guys wanna watch? Jimmy asks with a hum as he scrolls through the movies, and martyn isnt even sure what streaming service hes on. But he hopes its a good one. Like. nextflix. Well. actually. No, fuck netflix. Hulu. he hopes its hulu.

“Nightmare before christmas” grian answers before martyn even has time to realize how lost in his own head he is at this point. His voice still mumbled with focus, and martyn just nods his head. Grian sounds cute like that, all focused. He bets he has that little frown he’s always had when focusing on school assignments. And martyn feels whats close to a purr rise in his chest at the thought of grian focusing on him like that, having all of grians attention. And he can hear jimmy’s surprised laugh at the sound, mixed with grians. “Oh he’s already gone dude.” jimmy giggles out as he reaches down hand in martyns hair, only causing the purring to go up in volume. He must be so lucky, two pretty boys, both touching him. What did he do to deserve this.

“Im surprised it took this long.” grian laughed as one of his hands moved to scratch the spot between the wings fondly, causing martyn to let out a long, happy trill. Jimmy only cooed along with his laughs. Martyn pays attention to the words just enough to understand them, but his brain only circles back to how nice the two sound and how he’s the one making them laugh and giggle like that. “Feels nice..” martyn grumbles into the floor, word airy and light as he seems oh so happy about the turn of events.

“It’s going to, naturally relaxes you.” jimmy chuckles as he scoots closer to martyn, lifting the mans head and setting it in his lap to give himself more space to mess with the mimics hair. And martyn swears he almost chokes, hiding his turning red face into jimmy’s thigh. It is both the best and worst feeling to have all their attention. Both of them paying so much detail to every single noise or twitch from martyn. Both driving him crazy and making him so fucking happy that he cant stand it. So he decides to not face any feeling and just try to close his eyes and hide.

Grian returns to simply preening, and jimmy puts on the movie like planned. The two whispering words that martyn doesnt have half a mind to make out. All the roams in his mind is the hands on him. God. he should have sprouted wings years ago if this is how itd go.

Time ticks by and has much as martyn would like to say its been hours, its more likely to have only been a singular hour. But every single second feels like forever, even in his almost entirely asleep state, his eyes feel heavy and his body is warm, a perfect mix that leaves his trails and purring quieting down, but still going.

Martyn sat as still as he could on the cold bench in the autumn air. Trying to keep his back straight and ignore not only the closeness of him and Scott, but also the way the man was looking at him. Face paint pallet in one hand and a brush in the other. One thick line down the side of his nose.

"So what are you even making me?" Martyn asked, voice slightly amussed as Scott just hums. Putting it on his lips. And martyn has to fight the instinct to lick his lips, knowing it would go badly. "A skeleton" Scott answers and looks into martyns eyes. Blue meeting blue. For just a split second before Scott goes bac to painting and martyn goes back to looking at the glitter all over Scott's face. Unicorn. How predictable. But also fitting and kinda funny muttering on the crowd! "Isn't that a little.....boring?" martyn asks which in turn Scott only grins further, not moving his eyes from the teeth he's drawing. "So it's perfect for you!!" Scott says jokingly and the horrified gasp martyn let's out tells him his joke hit the target.

"Take that back!!"

"I'm only telling the truth!!"

Smoke bellowed out of the building, curling into the air, dar blc and swallowing anything in it hole. Only truly filling the night sky with even more chemicals. Scott couldn't breath. A mix of panic and other blood rushing emotions filling every inch of him. His stomach turning in knots. 

The watch like thing on his wrist beeps it's panic, loud and clear, and all Scott can see is the smoke and the small, flashing red light from his wrist.

There wasn't any fights today. That's the worst possible thing. No villains spotted, no heros reporting anything during patrol. its a good day. Or, the better term would be, was, a good day. 

He doesn't consider it a good day when he's in civilian clothes, on the outskirts of the city, where there's more corn fields and acres of woods, then there is buildings. Where the roads are all gravel and no one can remember the last time they got fixed. Originally, he wasn't out here for any real reason. When you have possibly one of the best paying jobs in the entire city, well, you tend to just hop in your car, and go somewhere. Scott assumes that's how he got here. Car parked down the road, he had been walking, trying to be kinda humble, yknow? Walk down a gravel road, breath in the dusty air, become just a person, not the only healer in the entire city of hermitpires. Not the guy on the posters advertising the newest medicine. Not the guy who got stalked often just people just...really like the healing guy.

He was trying to be someone again. Trying to be a person. Then, of course, he saw the beam everyone associates with Stratos. A big bad god like man, his power, generally makes him unbelievably strong and changes his physical structure. Taller, generally good looking, Scott won't deny the looks he's spared to the man. But besides the point. There is normally a large beam of light whenever the man switches back and fourth. And well, when Scott sees the light come out of a small, old, barn looking building, and then he can see smoke start to barrel out of it, within moments.

And then he reads the words "hero downed." And well, Scott can't breath. Not as he runs throught the yellowed grass and it cruches under his feet, not as the dry air leaves his throat aching. And certainly not as he bursts open the wooden door, painted over in a bad coat of white.

In the middle of the room lays Stratos. Yet, not Stratos. A short and stout man, and yet he has the curly brown hair and the green streak. The once giant beard, now nothing but a stubble. And the toga he wears lazily draped over him. and in the seconds he's looking at the near dying man. A realization he really doesn't like, hits him. "Joel?!"

That's his boyfriend. The man he's been dating for the last few months, laying against the wall of an old barn. His heart completely stopping in his chest.

Oh, and of course he's freely bleeding from his stomach, that's something important to note. Yeah, dying. What a fun past time.

Joels's eyes are clamped shut, and Scott can't blame him. Stratos doesn't get hurt on the field very often, so in turn, it's unlikely that he has a strong pain tolerance. You need to get hurt a lot, to build up a pain tolerance. That and, getting, what looks to be stabbed, maybe impelled, is designed to hurt like a bitch. And yet he squints open his eyes, looking at Scott with a similar look of surprise, panic, and fear.

"Scott.?! What, what in the world are you, why are you here?!"

Scott clenches his jaw. It's generally against all hero protocol to see eachothers faces. Incase of a face off with someone with a mind reading power, or you're being tortured, the latter much more common, you don't want to give out a heros identity. Leaves a lot of room for danger. And so Scott can feel a sense of pure wrong, swirling in his stomach, snapping and bitting its way up. Leaving an uncomfortable taste in his mouth. But that is the last thing he is paying attention to as he drops to his knees infront of the fellow hero.

"Gods...just. dont move." Scott grits out from between his teeth, lifting up the fabric of his toga, and assessing the damage. It's bad. It's most definitely confirmed that he was impelled from the back, something large, and sturdy in the shape of a cone, straight up. 

In return to Scott words joel instantly tries to ignore Scott. The hands behind him try to push himself up, wobbling, and Scott almost thought he was gonna be able to sit up, at last, that's until his arms actually do collapse under him and he's falling backwards. 

And Scott swears he can't feel his heart anymore as he reaches out his arms, catching the man by the back and setting his down against the wall once more, wincing as he feels the outline of the wound.

"Don't need...don't need your stupid...bluming help" the man grunts out, and Scott can only think to himself how he ended up with such an idiot. "Let me heal you, god damn it!!" Scott barks out, unable to keep his voice steady as he's trying to move the toga, only for the man to once again try and move away. "Who did this to you?! There hasn't been any villains out at all today?!" Scott's voice is still sharp as he tries to pull the fabric from the wound. Joel hissing out his pain in turn.

And Scott attempts to avoid how the man doesn't answer.

Scott decided to lay one arm on the man's chest, pushing him back to the wood, while his other hand lays on his stomach. The faint colorful glow being admitted, finally causing the man to fully open his eyes. And it may be the absolute wrong time, but Scott's heart stops. He'll always admit to having a soft spit for Joel's eyes. The brown with hints of green, wherein looks like light is constantly shinning at them. A beautiful bronze color that leaves Scott swooning each time he sees them properly. Joels eyebrows are scrunched as he leans over Scott's arm to watch the colorful sparking. Before looking up to Scott with a sense of realization.

And when Joel's eyes meet Scott's.  And it feels like a great sweet moment. Different from most times. And Scott just wants to let the panic seep through him. He wants to kiss joel the second he isn't magically sewing his flesh back together. He wants to hold him, to ask him if hes ok, he wants to tell him to never do that again. He want to do so much. Then Joel ruins it of course. Cuz what else would the man do.

"I bluming hate you-" 

In Scott's defense, once you save your boyfriend's life, and then he immediately tells you, that he hates you at work, it's only natural for you to toss a twenty dollar bill at him, and tell him to find his own ride home. 

"SCOTT, I DIDNT MEAN IT, I PROMISE, PLEASE, BABE!!"

Joel's hands hit the door, voice nearly whiney as he attempts to get into their shared bedroom, of which he had been locked out of.

"I SAVED YOUR LIFE ASSHOLE, AND THEN YOU TELL ME YOU HATE ME?!"

"IT WAS THE BLOOD LOSS, BABE, IT WAS THE BLOOD LOSS"

"BLOOD LOSS MY ASS."

Scott would never admit it. But in the end, he had came out to the couch long after Joel fell asleep on it. When the man's hair curled in all sorts of ways, and he huddled up with the small throw blanket, and admittedly awful pillow.