#saberfics

Grian ran as fast as he could. 

He never stopped. Never did he rest until he made it all the way back home. His legs began to ache, his lungs were on fire. Opening his front door he slammed it firmly behind him. Grian’s back rested against the door as he slowly slid down it, hugging his knees. He couldn’t help the small sob leaving him. How on earth did he manage to let it get this bad? How did he not see the signs? He should have stayed with Mumbo, he shouldn’t have avoided him for weeks on end. But isn’t that what he was doing now? He just left Mumbo alone to fend for himself, leaving him with more questions than answers. God, he just hoped Mumbo didn’t think he hated him. He wanted nothing more to help, but how could he? Grian lifted his hands, staring at his fingers. His clawed hands seemed to blur through the tears. Yet, for a moment, just for a moment, he could see his fingers fizzle into pixels. No matter what he did or didn’t do, it was only getting worse. He couldn’t stop it. He never could. He would answer for his transgressions. And the worst part is that he's come so far. If he were to run away now, all this work would have been for nothing. It could have been minutes, or maybe hours. Grian sat in silence, taking a moment to breathe. For now, he just needed to be alone. A soft familiar glow emanated in front of him. Grian whispered. “I… I want you gone. I don’t care what happens anymore, just… Just leave.” His home remains still, “If that's what you want, Grian.” 

and quiet.

Season 6, a week before the end of the season. 

Grian stumbled, his landing shaky. His wings were barely used, and the way he flew was practically like a baby bird. Grian knew it would have made it a lot easier to get around, but why would he use a gift the Watchers have given him? If anything, they were just a physical reminder of what he had done—the damage he caused. It made him feel better to use them as little as possible. Luckily for Grian, he felt a brief respite. This world sure had death, but the people inside were immortal. For a moment, just for a moment, Grian forgot what it was to lose someone permanently. This world allowed him to indulge in his creativity without punishment. Allowed him to build bonds without fear of breaking them. Reaching behind himself, Grian grabbed the tips of his wings. He slid them back between the slits of his sweater and made sure to keep them concealed as best as he could, then he kicked the dirt from his boots. Xisuma had cordially invited Grian to his base which was luckily right by his own; It was just a short fly over the ocean. It was a picture of perfect vibrant blue, and the air held a humid warmth. It was the middle of Summer, though Grian didn’t know if there were such things as time or calendars. They seemed to be just vague concepts here. When no one ages, why would you need to track time? “What even is ‘the end of a season’?” Grian mumbled to himself, tapping his heel onto the ground. “That's a good question, Grian! And a reasonable one.” “GAH!” Grian yelped. He almost falls over as a reaction. “Oh! My bad, wasn’t trying to scare you!” Xisuma let out a chuckle, “My base is pretty big so I wanted to lead you around. You ok?” He lifted his armored hand, holding it out. “Yeah! I'm fine!” A small chuckle left Grian, clasping his hand around the other and giving it a firm shake. The two began to make their way inside of the large pyramid structure. Strangely, despite its large design, it was able to keep itself floating on the water. Grian wondered what determined what made a block able to float in the air and which had to obey the rules of gravity. Though if he asked, he probably wouldn’t get a straight answer. It was game logic, wasn’t it? Xisuma's hands were placed behind his back, his footsteps sauntering. “So basically, us Hermits throw this big event called ‘the end of a season.’ With a world with infinite resources and unlimited creativity, it kind of gets cramped, yes?”

“Well, now that you mention it..” Grian hummed, recalling how restless the Hermits have been seeming lately. They created a whole golf course, they had a huge civic prank war, they even made a minigame district. He was inclined to agree that it felt like they were growing too big for their home. “This isn’t our first season you know, there have been many times we have outgrown our homes. Soon after, a portal appears. We all decide to leave our things behind and go see what's new for us.” 

The two stop for a moment, standing over one of the bridges that connected Xisuma's base together. The sun was held high in the sky, no clouds in sight. Xisuma continued, “You know Grian, I have the inkling you know this feeling.” What? Being cramped inside of a box so tight that you had to escape? Desperate to see what the world had to offer, to see if you had a higher purpose? To escape home and to start a new life where no one knew your name? No. No, Grian had no clue what Xisuma was going on about. A nervous chuckle escaped him. “You didn’t find Hermitcraft by accident, did you? Where were you before here?” A small curious hum escaped Xisuma, turning his head to look at Grian. Grian hesitated. “I… Before I came here, I was in an endless void. I wandered for hours until,” He trailed off, watching as the waves crashed into the bridge. “Until I ended up here.” It had been years at that point, so long that the void felt like a dream. Those moments were so blurry, he could barely recall them. All he could remember was how safe he felt once he entered the Server. “Well I think you were brought here for a reason, Grian.” Xisuma kept trekking on with Grian not too far behind. They were both led into a large main room, a large screen sat on one of the walls with redstone wiring hooked directly into it. Steam and hisses emitted from the large machine, struggling to maintain itself. This must have been some sort of makeshift computer, though it was a bit rudimentary. “Xisuma, uh, what would you call that?” “Hm?” “That, uhm... big device, up on the wall.” “What? Oh, this thing?” Xisuma shuffled around, placing his hands on his hips as he looked up. “That's my redstone input device. It's high tech! Don't you think?” “Oh, so it's like a computer?” Grian hummed. Xisuma returned a confused expression, making Grian mumble, “Erm, never mind! Don’t listen to me.” In the center of the room laid a large, white, circular table. Xisuma rolled out a large map on top of it. He spread it with his hands to fold out the corners. Using his index finger, Xisuma begins to point at parts of the map. “Here, at spawn, we should have a mycelium biome. Monsters can't spawn in there, so it would be a lot safer to start off with. That way we could build our shops without issue,” Grian watches with interest, his brows furrowed. Xisuma continued rambling about certain biomes in the distance. He explained that exactly every single one expanded into different islands in the ocean. It makes sense, but what is Xisuma exactly getting at? “You think you can do it?” Xisuma perks up, a smile on his face. “What? ME? Like—you want me to find something like this?” Grian takes a step back for a moment, his eyes back on the map. It's been so long he’s not even sure if he could get back to the void. “You found Hermitcraft, did you not?” Xisuma straightened his posture.

Grian opens his mouth to speak once again, but instead a sigh leaves him. He looks back down at the map. Xisuma was right, technically. “Fine.. I’ll see what I can do.” Grian affirms. Xisuma begins typing something in the communicator on his arm, the keys clicking and lighting up as he does, “Alright, I've got to check on one of my farms.. Think you will be ok here for now?” “Of course!” Grian’s lips pulled back, forcing a smile. Though it quickly dropped as soon as Xisuma made his exit. Reaching over to the map, Grian rolled it into itself. For a moment, he faltered. How on earth was he even supposed to get back to the void? It had been so long since he used any of his powers, he wasn’t even sure if he could. The void seemed so far away in memory and distance. Despite the seemingly impossible, its presence was clear in Grian’s mind. He closed his eyes as he tried to put the pieces of his fuzzy memories together. Stars, glittering and gleaming. The worlds inside of them are filled with hope and creativity. How heavy his feet dragged for miles as he searched for the perfect home.

He has to imagine the false feeling of a floor beneath his feet carrying him above the countless universes. Hold yourself high, Grian’s mind whispered, Be above all and see all that is meant to be. 

Opening them, Grian was met with a familiar dark emptiness. A sharp gasp escaped him, his eyes widening. The lack of light jarring. In the distance, flickering lights twinkled. It seemed that the thought alone brought him here… though, if he was being honest, he didn’t think that would work, either. Turning around showed a familiar crystal, much larger now than what was. Was this Hermitcraft? Hesitantly, Grian placed his palm onto the surface, and it gave a low buzz in response. The air around him felt like static. Pulling his hand away, sparks followed. Looking through the surface revealed Xisuma walking over to one of his farms. 

Grian’s index finger tapped against the crystal, swiping across it. The view now stopped on Mumbo, who was now looking at his base with confusion. It seems he was having trouble with the sudden appearance of a lot of chickens. Mumbo hunched over, desperately calling the chicks over and trying to grab them. A small giggle left Grian. After taking in the environment, Grian began to trudge himself through the thick air. The space now felt different—colder, lighter. Grian lifted his legs, making a mental note of how it felt. Last time he walked it felt as though it was through a sandy dune, but now it was like walking in a deep pool of water. Grian pulled open the map, straightening it out for reference. It would honestly take ages looking through each individual star, who knows when he would find another perfect world again. Walking through the waded air, Grian noticed that the stars began to shift. They all moved from their spots, until there was a definite line formed. Grian’s brows scrunched. He began his investigation, curiously inspecting each one of the stars. One in particular intrigued him, pulling it closer as he tilted his head. A few unfamiliar faces appeared and the world was dark. ‘Is it just me or is the moon big?’ Grian hummed. It reminded him of a game he played once long ago. What was it again? Frustration began to hit him as the name slipped his mind. He wondered if games like that were being made anymore. Honestly, he wished he knew. Continuing down the path, a star gleamed brightly, almost calling out to him. It looked to be exactly what they needed, biomes and all. Looking up, Grian gazed at the other stars that now laid far away. He wondered how many other worlds there must have been. Reaching out to the star it shrank in size small enough to hold in the palm of his hand. Peering into it, Grian watched himself and Scar talking. It seemed to be going well for a moment, before they ultimately shuffled awkwardly away. A small sigh left Grian. He knew it was going to be hard to reconnect with Scar after what happened, especially since he knew Scar wasn’t his own to begin with. Scar had different memories, different aspirations… yet there was still some need for connection. Grian desperately wanted to at least reconvene with him. Maybe one day he could tell him what happened. The gem in Grian’s hand began twinkling with a sudden brilliant glow. Slowly, that brightness enveloped him, leaving him back in the Hermitcraft server. Grian’s eyes squinted at the sudden adjustment, groaning as he wiped his face. Clatterings of armor echoed through the halls as Xisuma made his way back. “Did you figure it out?” His footsteps came to a halt, “Oh gosh, you alright?” “Yeah! Yeah, no. I’m fine.” Grian grumbled as he stood up, still wiping his eyes. He held up the gem for the other to see. It glittered in the sun, “Here, is this what you needed?” Xisuma leans in a bit, inspecting each facet for a moment before giving a pleased expression, “Yep! That's exactly what we were looking for.” “So… What do we do with it?” Grian raised a brow. “Oh, don’t you worry, me and Doc will figure that part out.”

Season 10, a week before the end of the season. Left at his door step, Mumbo couldn’t help but idle mindlessly. Everything was going so well, now it felt as though he let everything slip through his fingers. All of that trust, all of the effort he went through. Was it for nothing? No. No, Grian just needed a moment. There was no way he wouldn’t come back. He wouldn’t just leave Mumbo here again, Grian wouldn’t leave him to just figure it out all on his own. Right? This thoughtless idle made his legs begin to ache. Now that he had the time to think about it, his whole body was aching. He must have exerted all of his energy. Mumbo's brows pinch. When was the last time he slept? He honestly couldn’t remember. It must have been days ago. Sluggishly Mumbo’s legs began to move, it felt as though he was dragging through water. Lethargic, the word came to him. He felt lethargic. Stumbling through his home, he rested his hand against the wall for support. Mumbo attempted to comfort himself, ‘Sleep. I just need some rest.’ he repeated in his mind over and over as he trekked forward. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep going like this. Tears welled in his eyes. He was supposed to be better now, yet he just felt as sick as before. Though this time it wasn’t from the illness, he was sure of it. He opened his bedroom door, left with the mess of papers on his ground–an empty spot where Grian was supposed to be. The room felt so cold without his warmth. Couldn’t Grian have at least stayed for a moment? Listened? Explained himself? Was it wrong that he was starting to become frustrated with this cycle? No matter how hard Mumbo tried, it felt as though he kept driving Grian to run away. Mumbo's anger quickly twisted back into guilt. Mumbo’s feet dragged across the floor, his eyelids drooping. Ever so slowly, he climbed onto the soft safety of his bed-sheets. His body felt like cement, he could barely move. A small sigh escaped him as he was able to finally rest. Rest… I just need some rest, Mumbo repeated to himself as he felt his eyelids flutter shut.

For a moment, he would rest his eyes. Then, when he wakes up he would figure out what to do from there. Even despite Grian running away, he knew they would be able to mend their relationship. Though he was sure Grian wouldn’t want him chasing him again, especially after everything he did. This cycle was starting to become tiring. Mumbo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, his head was starting to hurt now. Opening his eyes, he was left with nothing but darkness. Wait. Was he asleep? Using his elbows, he pried himself from the bed, looking out seeing nothing but a sea of emptiness. This felt familiar at least. His dreams had been left with nothing but dark for the past few days. Or was it weeks? Everything was starting to blend together. Peering over the edge of his bed, it seemed like you would fall for miles. A small whimper escaped Mumbo; one wrong move and he could slip into it. The only thing that broke him out of the thought was a small sniffle echoing through the darkness. Mumbo snapped up, his eyes fixated on a familiar figure. 

It was hunched over, sitting in the middle of the floor as he looked into the distance. Hugging its knees, its wings spread wide to hide itself. The angel lifts his hand and waves it into the air, a mirage forming out of the stars. It seemed to be reminiscing, a soft expression on its face. Mumbo looks up to see Grian sitting in some alien location. None of it seemed familiar. Bright white walls and luminescent lights held above. Grian was surrounded by a grey box and sitting in front of a box-like device… Wait. A computer! Mumbo remembered Grian talking to him about it once. Something about a job he used to do? Behind Grian, the angel stood overlooking his shoulder. He pointed at the computer screen as Grian typed. Perhaps it was giving him suggestions. The two smiled and spoke to each other before the angel waved his hand in the air, making the vision fade away. A small huff left him. 

Mumbo returned his gaze to the floor below, or rather the lack thereof. He swallowed the lump of anxiety in his throat, sliding his feet off the side of the bed. Hesitantly, he planted them onto the cold floor. The surface was wet and standing up made his legs shake. Looking down he noticed the floor dipped a bit, the surface tension reminding him of water. With wobbly legs and arms outstretched, Mumbo managed to balance his way to the lightened figure. His nose scrunched as he desperately tried to not look at the nothingness below. Eventually, he landed next to the angel. Mumbo bounced on the floor as he sat beside him. The angel snapped its view to Mumbo, its eyes opening wide in surprise. It didn’t expect to see him in this place so quickly, much less at all. Midas looked over at the bed with uncertainty before shaking it off. Inside the void they remained silent, but they sat comfortably. Mumbo shuffled around, adjusting his posture.

“I feel like… you may need to explain some things to me, Grian. You ran off in such a hurry and—I-I’m starting to think..” Mumbo trailed off, “I might have jumped to conclusions.” A small chuckle leaves the angel, soft and sweet. He looks out to the void, a small smile creeps across its lips. “You have so many questions. I’ve always liked that about you. So curious. You always want to understand everything from the inside out.” Mumbo hesitated for a moment, his voice spoke softly. “You… You’re not Grian, are you?” The angel perked up at the voice, turning his head to meet the others. His expression twists from a tender gaze into something melancholic. “I was… once.”  Placing his head on his hand he continued to look out into the vast night sky, “We used to be so close but now... Now, I'm pretty sure he hates me.” There was a bit of awkward silence, Mumbo fidgeting a bit as he struggled to find the right words. “He's a bit tricky, isn’t he?” A small smile tugged on his lips as he peeked over at the angel. A chuckle left him. “Sometimes I worry about the same thing.” . Mumbo leaned in a bit, curiously looking the creature over. Its hair fell over his nose, just a bit longer than Grian’s. Now that he had a better look, the differences began to stand out. They were like similar ideas yet disconnected. “My name.. is Midas,” The angel looks over, his hair drifting softly as if it wasn’t affected by gravity. His brows pinched, looking almost ashamed of the name. “at least, that’s what they call me… I’m Grian’s desires.” Mumbo whispers the name to himself, taking a mental note. He feels like the name is faintly familiar, but he can’t quite place it. Maybe he heard it in a story before? Wait. His desires?

Midas couldn’t meet Mumbo’s eyes, “I’m... I'm so sorry for not explaining earlier. There's so many things I know that I just don’t know how to say them…” His words trail off, “But you deserve an explanation.” Standing up, Midas outstretched his palm to Mumbo. Their fingers interlocked. Midas’s hand was that of static, a warmth emanating from him. Every aspect of him was comforting, maybe even familiar. Lifting Mumbo up, the two walked through the empty void. As Midas grabbed hold and held Mumbo’s hand, he guided him through the stars without pause. Looking down did Mumbo notice now that he was holding onto Midas, each step seemed to glow beneath them. The “floor” beneath their feet rippled with each step.

“Your world, in a way, could be described  as a story. When a story is written, it's to feed our emotions, helps us to feel something. Words can be added to a page, I can even write other stories, but this one has to play out… The story has to come to an end.” Midas voice became quiet, “You could even call it fate..” Mumbo was left wordless, his grip tightening on the other’s hand, squeezing it. There was a twinge of fear sitting deep within his chest. Mumbo’s nose scrunched as he started putting the pieces together. “You’re saying,” A shaky exhale left Mumbo, “Midas, am I meant to die?” Midas couldn’t answer. There was hesitation, silence crawling its way back. “Every action, every little thing has led you to this moment. And I know it may seem scary, but something extraordinary is about to take place.” Midas’s view is certain, unwavering. Knowing. The being turns around and fixes his hold on Mumbo. Mumbo falters as Midas places both of their hands together, now both hands interlock. “Everything I've given you. It's come true, right?” Mumbo gives a small nod. “Then, do you trust me…?” Mumbo’s brows furrowed, an uncertain look on his face before nodding again. Midas lets go of one of his hands and stands beside him. The two trek along the path of stars, glancing at each one. There were so many different stories being told, Mumbo watched each one with interest. His head cocked to the side as he saw worlds that never thought to be possible. He stopped at one in particular, gazing into it. Was he a huge computer in this one? 

The two end at a star that was much larger than the others. It towered over them, the light emanating from it overwhelmed them. Mumbo gazed into the crystal, looking as he saw a reflection of a much younger version of himself.

“This is when I first joined Hermitcraft! That was so long ago… It somehow it feels like I'm reliving it.” Mumbo's tail began to sway. He leaned closer and saw himself talking to Xisuma about spawn. Looks like they were discussing how to decorate. He placed his palms against the flat surface of the crystal.

“Every world is happening all at once. You’re experiencing it right now.” Midas peeked over Mumbo’s shoulder, watching curiously as the Hermits conversed. Looking out to the sea of stars, Mumbo couldn’t fathom seeing how vast it really is. It was a wonder as to how someone like Midas wouldn’t be lost in a vast void. Then again, with how easily it was able to guide him through to this star, he guesses that the being was familiar with this area as whole. “Does that mean that there's more? Other Hermitcrafts? One where I'm not sick? One where Grian and I..” The star glows on his fingertips. It becomes brighter, and brighter— Midas grabs hold of Mumbo’s shoulders, prying him away. It’s uncharacteristically frightened, soft hands that almost attempted to ground him. “I'd be careful if I were you! Those things are really tricky to work with. Only watchers can really control them, it barely worked when Grian tried to! I can’t imagine what would happen if a mortal were to mess with it.” Midas holds Mumbo close, from behind. “In all honesty, you shouldn’t even be in the void.” “Wh—hold on,” Mumbo lifted his arm, trying to get a good look at the angel, “Grian Isn’t a Watcher?” “Well, he was supposed to be! B-But… Uhm...” Midas's brows creased. “Something happened. I can't quite remember..” “Midas..” Mumbo's tone shifted to a more pleading one, “Please, I need you to be honest with me.” “I promise, I am! That was my whole purpose! I was supposed to make Grian into a watcher, but,” Midas’s grip got tighter, hugging Mumbo. “He doesn't even want to talk to me anymore. I’ve been trying to reason with him. It's like part of my memory has been locked away. I’ve tried asking what he remembers, but he doesn’t want to remember. He doesn't even want to,” Midas makes a vague gesture, “Want.” A small frustrated huff left Midas.He pulled away from Mumbo and looked into his golden eyes. “At least you listen to me... You actually enjoy the gifts I give you, even if they don’t go according to plan.” Midas’s expression turns sheepish, crossing his arms. It was a bit jarring to see Grian like this, so vulnerable and honest. Open yet shy. Midas was a walking contradiction. Mumbo couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered—or even a bit intrusive. It was like he was seeing a side of Grian that no one was allowed to see, not even himself. It was a private show, just for Mumbo. A small amused hum left him. “I won't lie, I didn’t expect to turn into a fruit bat. Weren’t you supposed to turn me into a vampire?” His tail began to sway side to side.

“Hey! It’s not my fault—It wasn’t supposed to happen like that!” Midas's nose scrunched as It playfully nudged Mumbo, making him chuckle. There was a time once where Grian was like this, happy and carefree. Knowing what Mumbo does now, it must have taken a long time for Grian to get there. He remembered how isolated Grian seemed when he first arrived, and how fast he warmed up. Midas’s warmth reminded him of what Grian could be, the dark void being a violent reminder of how cold Grian had become. Returning his view to the vast night sky, Mumbo couldn’t help but wonder. His feet shimmied slightly.  Mumbo's voice was soft. “Midas, you said that only Watchers could control these, yes? And there's a world out there where we're happy.” Mumbo extended his hand, their fingers interlocking. Midas’s hand seemed to phase into his own, “How does one become a watcher..?” Midas watched him for a moment, his eyes locked and unwavering. “It's… a bit hazy,” Midas’s brows furrowed as he began to recall, “When you make a deal, your soul becomes shattered like a piece of glass. You become broken and eventually need to recollect those pieces.” A chill ran up Mumbo’s spine, letting out a shaky exhale. Was he willing to risk that? “But you—you’re different. Somehow you’re here. Mortals shouldn’t even be able to traverse through the night sky. Mortals shouldn’t even be able to see me, much less talk to me.”Midas’s hand squeezed Mumbo’s as he began to think outloud. “Since our souls became one, maybe you wouldn’t need to shatter… Instead of Grian, maybe I could become part of you. You’ve already been using me this entire time..” Midas held Mumbo closer. “We made a deal.” Midas affirmed, “I've given you anything you wanted and more. You just have to tell me what you desire.” “What I desire..?” Mumbo repeated with a whisper. 

He wanted nothing more than for Grian to come back, to make amends. He wanted nothing more than to be free of this illness. If he understood Midas correctly, he would be able to kill two birds with one stone. Mumbo would be a Watcher instead of Grian. Grian would be free of his chains, and Mumbo would become immortal. If he wasn’t destined for anything greater than death, why wouldn’t he take the risk? Grian was all he could ever really want, more than life itself. And if death was inevitable, why not have a bit of fun? Why not aim higher? Instead of immortality, he would ascend godhood.

Mumbo leaned in closer, their noses almost brushing against each other. Every movement drew Midas closer, their hands faded into one. Mumbo’s lips twisted into a smile as he dipped Midas, almost in a dance.

“Make me a god.”

Grian had sat long enough. He wiped his face of dried tears as a shaky sigh left him. There was only so much time to sit and reminisce on things that once was, to mourn what peace he had. If he waited too long, he would lose everything completely. Grian’s fingers trailed up his face into his hair, holding his head in his palm. He needed to just take a moment to assess the situation: Mumbo was definitely not going to get better, but leaving him was out of the question. He was relying on him now. His blood was Mumbo's lifeline, and to avoid him would be the same as killing him. If Grian asked help from the others, would they too be brought into all of this? He gauged his options. Either he kept at this alone and Mumbo dies in the process, or Grian reached out to other Hermits and possibly end up hurting them as well. God, why did everything have to be so complicated? Grian’s tail began to whip back and forth in annoyance. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the note Gem made for him. She was good at this world's magic, wasn’t she? Maybe she would be able to figure out what to do from there. Grian’s wrist flicked instinctively to create a rift. He tossed the note into the open and watched  it flutter to the ground. Opening his palm, sparks of electricity glittered into the air with a fizzle. His brows pinched. Leaning down, Grian grabbed hold of the note, attempting once again to make a rift. Where on earth was his inventory? Why wasn’t it working? No, no, this can’t be happening right now! Grian stood up in a panic, thousands of questions ran through his mind. 

[Authors note: prepare for blood drinking!!] [ song for this chapter!]

“Did you… love Scar?” Mumbo swallowed. Grian hummed, “Maybe, at some point at some time. It's been a long time since then,” Grian’s eyes never left the sky, staring at the twinkling stars. “After he died, it took a long time to accept that he was gone. I mean, I did eventually move on. But even then, you don't truly do,” Grian turned his head, meeting Mumbo’s gaze, “I still care about him if that's what you’re asking.” Mumbo’s hand rested in Grian’s, their fingers interlocking. Despite Grian’s avoidance of Mumbo's confession, it seemed everything was ok. The world was quiet, a soft hush over the forest as crickets and frogs sat silently. The world sat as if it too was listening to their conversation. It was fairly well into the night, nothing illuminating them other than the fireflies and the stars above. Mumbo shifted a bit uncomfortably. He didn’t understand exactly Grian’s avoidance of his question. Was he not clear enough? Mumbo felt he was being quite to the point, he just wished Grian would have at least responded to his confession. A twinge of regret sat in his chest.  Maybe it was a bit too soon to confess his feelings to Grian. Not to his fault, of course. There could have been no way of knowing that Grian lost someone he loved. Though, could Grian have been scared of losing him? Was Grian scared of him dying as much as he was? 

Soon enough, it was time to depart. Grian pried himself from the cold blades of glass. “You should probably get some rest Mumbo.” He said with huff. 

On closer inspection, Mumbo seemed tired—staring as if he had never heard the term of sleep before. After a few blinks, Mumbo shook his head and chuckled.

“Oh! Yes, of course... It's gotten very late, hasn’t it?” Mumbo's voice came out wearily. He sits up, his knees huddled close to his chest. Looking up, he couldn’t help but stare at Grian’s shadow looming over him. With his wings outstretched and hand held out to him, he was framed perfectly in the moonlight. Mumbo’s heart raced with a sudden urgency, almost screaming out to him. Mumbo’s brows furrowed for a moment, for he was unsure exactly where this feeling was coming from. Why did he feel as though he was losing time? Mumbo decided to chalk it up to anxiety.

Hesitant, he placed his gloved hand in the palm of Grian’s, grabbing hold and hoisting himself up. The air was thick, full of anticipation. It had been a moment before the two realized they were just standing in silence, staring at each other. 

“Grian,” Mumbo drew out, “There’s... still more I haven't said...” His eyes landed onto the blonde’s lips for a moment before quickly turning his head away, eyebrows furrowing. “Could we erm...” His voice trailed off, shoulders slumping over. “Let’s continue this conversation in the morning, shall we?” Grian gave a small reassuring smile, his hands grip tightening. Almost as if to say he wasn’t going anywhere. Not again. It was a small gesture, but a genuine one. Mumbo’s hand squeezed as well, his fingers curling into Grian’s palm, almost to tell him the same thing. That, he too, wasn’t letting Grian go anywhere. Never again. 

Darkness. Even with his avoidance of sleep, Mumbo found himself not able to escape its comfortable solitude. These dreams were now fairly common for Mumbo. Despite this, they were still hard to get used to. His body was frozen in a limitless dark void. Every movement took an immense amount of energy, leaving him breathless. It was easier to lay still, just more so terrifying. His heart was racing, but he had complete assurance that he would be safe. Surely Grian would once again find him in this sanctum spot, then he would wake—just like every other time. The same routine. It was beginning to become tiring. A soft sigh of relief escaped him as a trinkling of a bell echoed through the ether. His time of silent solitude would come to an end. Mumbo laid still, eyes shut, hands cradled in his own blankets. With a shift of weight, his view was met with a golden, holy glow. A bright smile slipped upon its face, its expression twisted. “Hello, my starlight,” Its voice drawled out a bit with a growl. His hair was displaced as if it was dragging its fingers through it with frustration. “Did you miss me? It's been a while, hasn’t it?” The golden figure plopped himself beside Mumbo, now laying on his bed. ‘My love, didn’t we see each other just moments ago?’ Mumbo’s brows furrowed, yet his lips remained shut. Looking out to the ether, it was a familiar sight. From his bed the darkness stretched forever, and although it was hard to tell, it seemed as if they were looking at the very same night sky from earlier. The only thing illuminating them was the angel's soft warm glow. “Mumbo, do you remember a few seasons ago?” The angel hummed softly. He continued before Mumbo could reply. “Everything seemed so new to me then. Despite everything I went through, every day was a new adventure.” It smiled fondly, leaning his weight onto Mumbo as he laid his golden head on his chest. For a moment, the godly figure sat still and listened to Mumbo’s heart begin to race. A small chuckle emerged from the god, “So much has happened since then. We have been through so much together, you and I. Ever since our souls became one.” Mumbo’s heart was pounding. What on earth did Grian mean by that? “Y-You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.” Mumbo cleared his throat from choking out the words. His face was pure red at this point. He wouldn't want his own confession to pressure Grian into accepting his feelings. If Grian loved him, he wanted it to be real. “Oh, but I do mean it,” The god sat up to scoot closer. His hair floated softly in the air. “That was my happiest day, intertwining with your soul. Now we’re inseparable.” Its fingers interlocked with Mumbo’s, softly holding it before kissing his gloved hand. “We could truly be together, forever,” slowly, the angel pulled away. Its expression shifted, brows twitching. “At least, that's what I want. Don’t you?” Mumbo sat breathless, hand twitching. Sitting still was pure torture, how his body screamed to jump in excitement. He started to sweat.  “Of course I do!....” He strained.

A soft sigh escaped the angel, then a smile slipped on its face. “Good.” he whisked his hand in the air. With a swift movement, it pulled out a quill. “After you fall asleep, I’ll make sure that we will be.” Prying himself off the bed, the angel gave one last glance to Mumbo. “I love you.” 

‘I loved you long before the potion’ — Was he mad?! Mumbo began to pace frantically in his room, clasping his hand over his mouth while his tail flicked frantically. As he gathered his clothing and thoughts, memories flooded back to him from the previous night. He just upright and confessed his love for Grian without a second thought. Sure, he was caught up in the emotions of it all, but it was WAY too forward! His palms were starting to sweat… and his body was starting to ache. It has been a few weeks since he had any body pains. Maybe it was just his body getting accustomed to being new and refreshed? Luckily, he still had the braces he used to keep doing redstone. At his dresser, Mumbo rummaged through a few of the bins on top of it. He pulled out a few wrenches and pencils, putting them out of the way before pulling out two large golden arm braces. They were light and thin, allowing Mumbo to clamp them over his arms, then grabbed a screwdriver to lock the bolts in place. Various papers laid out on his bedroom walls. Scraps and notes from other Hermits he had  gathered throughout the years, little mementos that warmed his heart. At first, he started collecting them as keepsakes, but after finding out about his illness, he wasn't sure when and if he would be better again. These last few weeks of Grian’s avoidance were driving him a bit mad. The thought of never seeing Grian again, or any of the other Hermits, was terrifying to say the least. He would try to cling onto anything that he had at this point. More recently, he had been collecting a few things from Grian: feathers, notes, plus other various bits and bobs. Anything that could have once been Grian’s and could hold some importance, Mumbo would instinctually grab hold of and place gently into his pocket. He couldn’t quite put to words exactly why he needed to do this. It just made him feel better. Safer. Something in the back of his mind would call out to him, telling that if he held these things, maybe Grian would come back for some of them. Maybe that would give them some sort of an excuse to talk. But now that they had reconnected, he wasn’t sure exactly why he needed to keep these things. He just needed to. Unconsciously grimacing, Mumbo’s heels swiveled, his feet now guiding him to his bathroom. Now wasn’t the time to be worrying about that, he would surely figure something out. Right now, he needs to focus on getting ready. Hopefully Grian wouldn’t notice all the mementos on the wall. Reaching over the sink, he grabbed the mirror and opened it. His hand fumbled through a few colognes and oils in the cabinet before settling on a scent. He opened a few of the bottle caps, sniffling them, humming softly from the aroma. At least being a fruit bat had some perks, one of them having a strong sense of smell. Mumbo stifled a laugh as he peered into his reflection.

It was funny in retrospect: If he were a vampire, wouldn’t he be invisible in the bathroom mirror? He probably should have noticed something was amiss then. Mumbo placed some pomegranate oil into his palms, lathering his hands together. As his fingers combed through the strands of his hair, his face fell as he saw it. Near the base of his scalp, a few strands of grey hair. Mumbo now leaned in close to the mirror, nearly pressing his face against its surface. Surely, he was mistaken. It couldn’t be, could it? Another white hair? At this point, Mumbo was fed up with this mirror—always filled with filthy surprises. Might as well trash the whole thing and throw it away! Mumbo grumbled as a million thoughts crossed his mind. How could this happen? Mumbo thought he made a deal with... well, Grian! Didn’t Grian make him into a fruit bat? Why is he greying again all of the sudden?! He groaned in exacerbation with an admixture of confusion. He was so tired, he just wanted this to be fixed. To be over with. What was the point of any of this? In a fit of his own frustration, the sound of his front door completely misses him. A familiar blonde face, right on time.

“Mumbo?” Grian called out, looking into the dark home. His hand cusped over his mouth. “You weren't answering, so I'm coming in!”  The house was eerily quiet, only the squeaks of the floor boards underneath Grian’s footing could be heard. Grian began to search through the various doorways before ultimately ending up in the living room. Usually Mumbo would have been at his desk working on some sort of project, but his chair sat empty. What was even more curious was that the clocks on the wall were now in various states of disrepair. Most of them were either off time, a few of them dead, or not working completely. It was unlike Mumbo to leave them in such a state. Slowly, Grian’s feet instinctively carry on from the eerie room. “Mumboooo?” He drew out.

Mumbo's body curled in itself as he leaned onto the sink. His head and mind spun, an overwhelming sense of nervousness and nausea clogging his senses. That was until a familiar smell began to waft into the room. The hairs on his tail began to stand on end, making his body jolt awake from the scent. For a moment, Mumbo figured it was the oil on his hands, lifting his left hand to his nose and smelling it. His eyebrows knotted as he concluded the smell was definitely not coming from there. 

It was sickingly sweet, resembling that of an apple. “Mumbo?” “AH!” The taller man yelped, twisting around to meet Grian face to face. A wave of deja vu washed over him. “You have GOT to stop just—running into my bathroom!” Mumbo stood up straight, desperately trying to comb over his hair. Grian subsided his laughter, sighing, “Sorry! Sorry, for barging in, I just... It’s weird, but I actually do feel a bit better after talking yesterday.” Mumbo paused, lifting his head to meet his gaze, “I don’t think I've ever really talked to anyone about… That.” Grian gave a small smile, tucking his hands underneath his arms, “I was just excited and I wanted to come see you.” “I—Uh... Well, of course! I'm always here to listen!” Mumbo stammered before using one of his hands to lean on his sink. He forces a smile. His tail told a different story, flickering uncontrollably. His other hand was quick to grab it, clenching it into his fist. “What’s the matter?” “Hm?” Mumbo’s ears perked up. “You’re not being exactly subtle, Mumbo. You’re acting weirder than usual, Is something wrong?” Grian squinted, now watching the man’s tail. Mumbo's fingers are quick to let it go, it now sheepishly curling around his leg. “Whaaat? No... well—I mean—no! Of course not. No.” Mumbo’s mustache made a curl as he, once again, forced another smile. His cheeks were starting to hurt.

One thing Mumbo wasn’t good at was being a liar, he was practically already sweating. Mumbo’s feet shuffled in place; he hated standing in one spot, and he hated lying to Grian more. It was pretty obvious, and he was just waiting for Grian to call him out on it. But how on earth was he supposed to admit to Grian this was happening to him? If he just told Grian plainly that he thought he was dying, Grian would immediately think it was his fault! And in all honesty, Mumbo wasn't quite sure if it was or wasn't.

“I'm just uhh… a bit... Light headed! Yes, light headed. I can’t think straight!” Mumbo chuckled, albeit a bit nervously. His hands fumbled around as he began to put away the bottle of hair oil. “Lightheaded...? What, do you need water? Are you hungry?” Grian cocked his head to the side. “Hungry? Noooo.” Mumbo stumbled, knocking a few things off of his sink—quickly grabbing them before they hit the ground. “Wait—hungry?” Mumbo repeated again, pausing for a moment. Now that Grian mentioned it, he was a bit peckish. His tail unraveled from his leg, now tapping on the ground. Grian’s eyes trailed back to Mumbo’s tail. His brows pinched as he reached down and grabbed it. He carefully inspected the fur at the end. “Are you greying again?” 

The taller man’s face grew bright red.

“Eep!” Mumbo yanked his tail from him, He glanced at it, which now had a massive white streak. Quickly snapping his head back to Grian, he flashed a nervous grin. “I swear I planned on explaining everything! Just... you were avoiding me...” Mumbo tensed his shoulders. His hands began to wring onto his tail, holding it tightly to his chest, “I also wasn’t sure if it was something I should bring up after, well, yesterday. I didn’t want you to think that this is your fault because I don't even know what went wrong! It was all well and fine—” His mouth opened once again before sighing. Grian knew the feeling all too well. Mumbo wasn’t asking for help because he didn't want to burden anyone, to make them worry. Grian’s feet shuffled in place as he looked around. “Look, you can be sorry later. Let's just figure out what’s going on.” Grian walked over to Mumbo, gently placing his palm on his back. He began to guide him out of the bathroom. Grian dropped himself into Mumbo’s bed, bouncing slightly from the springs. Meanwhile, Mumbo gently placed himself beside Grian. Mumbo turned to the blonde to speak but before he could, Mumbo’s senses were overwhelmed. That apple smell was definitely coming from Grian (not that Mumbo was complaining). The sweet smell kept making his stomach grumble and making him want to sneeze. Was it some sort of perfume? Cologne? “So, what's the issue? Are you just losing your hair?” The blonde leaned in a bit, slowly inching closer. “No!… Well, yes? Erm... It's a lot more complicated than that.” Mumbo pulls his tie out from his suit and fiddles with it. Mumbo stammered; he had been dealing with this virus for so long, he didn’t even know where to start. Would Grian be upset he kept this from him for so long? Finally, swallowing a lump in his throat, he managed to speak. “I’ve been…I don’t know how, I don't know why, but I've started… aging…” The taller man's eyes met the others, his expression almost pleading for him not to get upset. “Alright...” Grian’s voice was low, trying to hold himself back and not freak out. “So that’s when you decided to become a vampire...” “Yes!” Mumbo raised his voice in relief that Grian understood him. “If I was going to die, I wanted to live forever!” He now smiled a bit wildly, sitting taller. “But then… you turned into a fruitbat.” Grian motioned to Mumbo’s ears.  “Yes, well… uhm.” Mumbo quickly shut his mouth, his ears tilting back. “And in the end, it didn’t even work out?” Grian lifted an eyebrow. He's heard it all before (or more so lived it all before). He then gave a bit of an unamused look, almost as if this was the exact situation Grian was trying to help Mumbo avoid. “You’re still sick?” Mumbo stared at him, pausing for a moment before slowly nodding. “Is that why you messed up the potion?” Mumbo chuckled, wringing his hands together.

Grian pinched the bridge of his nose, moving his glasses. He gave out an exacerbated sigh. Mumbo was lucky enough to have only messed with a potion and not end up like him. Grian’s tail now began to flick, thumping on the bed. “Well, I don't understand why it didn’t work! It was all seemingly fine, well up to this morning!” Mumbo’s tail flicked in annoyance. He ran his fingers through his hair and grumbled to himself. “That’s what happens when you mess with things you don’t understand, Mumbo.” The taller man huffed, letting his hands fall into his lap. This is exactly why he stuck to redstone. It was dependable and easy to understand, each question was a wire he could easily untangle. There just had to be some sort of sound logic to this, right? Mumbo’s brows furrowed. Slowly, Mumbo pried himself off of the bed, arms crossed. If only there was something he was missing—some sort of red string to connect all the dots. His tail flicked as he began to pace around the room. There had to be some sort of method to this madness. There just had to. Mumbo’s gaze landed at the foot of his bed, remembering the dream from the previous night. He remembered how when the angel moved it glittered, and small tricklings of bells would emit from his figure. With swift graceful movements, Grian pulled out a golden feather from thin air. Grian’s smile was fond and his words sincere. Grian, golden and shimmering, standing before him in his room. Mumbo could almost see him.

“Mumbo?” Grian frowned, nervously peeking over to whatever had the other’s attention. For a moment, Mumbo was just staring into nothingness, right at the foot of his bed. Mumbo did mention he was light headed and he looked sort of pale. Maybe he was just hungry. “When’s the last time you ate?” On closer inspection, it looked as if Mumbo hadn’t slept in days. His eyebags were dark and heavy, eyes almost sunken in.

Mumbo blinked, shaking his head. He grumbled softly to himself as if he didn’t hear the question. "There's just... Something missing. I feel like the solution is staring me right in the face.” His ears twitched, turning his head in Grian’s general direction,  “When this all started, I made the potion with the intention of becoming immortal. Do you think somehow interfering with that made... Them? Upset?” Mumbo pointed up into the air, his eyes squinted in trying to remember the name. “What was it—Watchers?”

Grian’s face dropped, his tail now laid still on the bed. “....What does that have to do with anything?”  Mumbo backtracked from his sudden demeanor. “Well, h-hold on! I swear I brought it up for a reason!” Mumbo’s legs guide him to stand above Grian. “From what you have told me, the way they work is… sort of simple, really. You ask for something, they give it to you with a price. It comes out twisted, or it's fulfilled in some unexpected way,” Mumbo once again began to pace around his room, his hands wringing each other. “I, erm, hate to bring this up—but you know the world you created?” Mumbo turned to face Grian, “ You said something about the fact that it had a set story,” His brows furrowed as he tried to recall, “No matter what you did, the story just continued.” Grian’s shoulders began to relax, his eyes drifting away from Mumbo and landing on the floor. The logic wasn’t far off. A small hum escaped him as he gave it a bit more thought. He never really considered the possibility of each world he entered having their own set stories. Grian always knew the world he made with Scar was a story of his own but was there a possibility that this world ran by the same logic? Each Hermitcraft Server did end up having their own stories to tell, but Grian assumed that happened naturally. Did this mean that everything that has happened was planned from the start? Is that why Midas was so angry? Grian had no choice other than to participate in the story he created. Was Mumbo doomed to the same fate? “You’re saying since the Watchers had something planned with you, and I interfered. That's why you think this is happening?” Grian’s voice wavered, “How am I going to help at all? Won’t I just make things worse?” Mumbo froze, his ears drawing back. His mouth opened to say something, but all that came out was a huff. Holding his hand under his chin to think, he tried his best to think of anything to say, but his mind just kept racing. He then remembered the dream he had. A beat of silence passed through the room before Mumbo sprang up at the question. “Wait. Maybe that’s it!” Mumbo’s hands grasped the avian’s, squeezing them tightly, making Grian pull back in surprise. Their eyes locked in on each other. “Grian! Remember when I kept changing to various creatures because I was eating them? HA! The answer WAS staring at me the whole time!! YOU! You’re the solution!” 

commission by: d0not-disturb (Tumblr/Tiktok)

Grian smiled nervously, squirming in the other's grip. “Uh...” He wanted to speak, but nothing came out. Partially out of shock, but mostly from confusion. Mumbo began to smile, his eyes were completely locked on his own, making Grian sink back even further. “Grian, when I ate you, our souls became one—exactly as you said! What if the solution is the exact same? What if...” His eyes darted to the other's neck. There was a twinge of guilt in his expression before quickly looking away. A pink hue cascades over him. “Seriously?” Grian groaned. 

It made Mumbo yank his hands away in turn, holding them to his chest. A sigh escaped Grian.

“No, no. I'm not mad at you. It just makes way too much sense… Of course they would stoop to something as stupid as this.” Grian’s hand crept his way to his own neck, preemptively trying to protect it. 

Despite his facial expression, Grian’s heart was now racing. The thought of Mumbo getting that close, the thought of his teeth against his skin. He shuffled uncomfortably on the bed. No, he didn't want this. At least, he couldn’t admit it. This is exactly what Midas would have wanted and there was no way he was giving in so easily. Yet if he were to deny this, would Mumbo’s illness just get worse again? “I know you’re hesitant, and I completely understand, but I think there's a method to this. There's a logic to how their rules work.” Mumbo now sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, looking up at Grian. His tail instinctively interlocked with the other’s, the gesture making Grian falter a little. His expression softened. “If we can figure that out, I know for a fact you could create magnificent things. You can choose to use your power to create something extraordinary. Something wonderful! You could make worlds that can bring joy and excitement to others. You could summon creatures that no one thought of. You could make—” Mumbo's voice lowered–swallowing the lump in his throat, “—something that could help someone like me?” “I… Uhm.” Grian’s tail tightened and coiled around Mumbo’s. His stomach twisted into knots, staring into his golden irises. God, his heart was now racing. Mumbo was keenly aware of this fact. Mumbo's ears twitched as Grian’s heartbeat practically thumped like a drum. It was a beautiful symphony. “You can choose to use your power for something good.” Mumbo repeated. He watched Grian expectantly, his eyes flickering. With a beat of hesitation, Grian let out a shaky sigh. “Fine, I guess I'm willing to try anything once,” He placed his hands onto his lap and turned his head, revealing his neck to the man. Grian felt himself swallow hard... Part of him was already regretting this decision, his stomach feeling uneasy. “If… If this goes wrong, we stop instantly. Got it?” Mumbo’s eyes widened. He had never seen Grian in such a vulnerable position before. This was now a whole new level of trust. The intimacy was one thing, but for Grian to trust his word and to let down his walls for just a moment? Mumbo swallowed the lump in his throat and used his palms to propel himself off the ground. 

“You have my word. I promise.”  He wouldn’t dream of breaking that trust. 

Placing himself beside Grian, the weight of the bed shifted, dipping the two closer together. They didn’t dare make a sound. The squeak of the bed made them shuffle with uncertainty. “Are-Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Mumbo murmured. God, of course Mumbo wanted this. He would love nothing more. Being this close, he was starting to have second thoughts. He really wished this could have been done under better circumstances. Yet Grian kept his neck exposed. Grian shakily inhales. “I want… to get over my fear of them. I’ve been running away for so long, it's becoming tiring. I wanted nothing more than to create. I just...” His eyes glossed over, lost in thought. His voice trailed off, glancing at Mumbo. His expression faltered once again, quickly snapping his head away with a sigh. “I just hope you’re right.” Mumbo almost falters “Same here.” 

Inching closer, he adjusted his position to place his hands besides Grian on the bed. Mumbo’s mustache gently grazed against the crook of Grian’s neck. His warm breath cascaded against Grian’s skin, making a small shiver run down his spine. For a moment, Mumbo sat in place. The two sat in an uncomfortable silence as their hearts pounded in rhythm. Grian began to shuffle in place, tilting his head back. “Are you… going to do something?” Mumbo inched away. “Well, I-I’m getting there!” His voice raised in a squeak; in all fairness, he really didn’t expect to get this far. Grian was practically in his palms, and the two men were now tangled in a sweaty nervous mess. In retrospect, he wished he studied vampires a bit longer. Maybe his book would have shown him the correct way to drink from someone without fully harming them. Leaning closer, his lips pressed into Grian’s neck–his skin warm and soft. ‘Am I doing this right?’ Mumbo’s eyes closed with a sigh. A soft small gasp managed to escape the avian, Grian’s hand reaching from behind and softly grabbing a hold of Mumbo’s head in anticipation. Baring his teeth, Mumbo sank them into Grian's skin. He applied a small amount of pressure, then, slowly, fully sank them in. A grunt of pain sounds from Grian’s mouth. Grian hissed through his teeth, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to handle the pain. Mumbo’s gloved hand glided over and gently clasped over Grian’s own clawed hand. He methodically rubbed his thumb over the other's worn palm. Soon, Grian began to relax, sighing softly in relief as Mumbo finally began to remove his teeth from the inflicted wound. As Mumbo pulled away, his eyes flickered to a familiar sight. Coming from the puncture wound, a golden sap and a delicious, sickly-sweet smell. His tongue grazed against his teeth, swallowing what little amount of blood he had in his mouth. Is that what he had been smelling this whole time? Grian’s blood? He started to feel shameful from how hungry he was becoming. Yet he couldn’t help himself, diving into the wound. Mumbo would just have to make sure not to over do it, he just needs enough to fix himself. Grian’s face felt hot. He wanted nothing more than to tell Mumbo his feelings.... but maybe after all of this he would. After he was absolutely sure everything would be ok.

For a moment, Mumbo couldn’t even speak, blinking as he stared at Grian. Mumbo’s hand naturally guided over to the fallen man, extending for him to grab hold. He was in such a rush he mustn’t have noticed him in the commotion. Yet as his hand laid out before the other, he was only met with silence. 

He watched as Grian quickly tucked his arm away, abruptly reminding him why he was so cross in the first place. Mumbo's brows creased. “Grian…” His fingers curled into his palm, “We need to talk.” His tone grew stern, practically looming over him. A shadow cascaded down upon the avian, as the moon was overwhelmingly bright, framing Mumbo in the dark. The blonde's expression twinged, his eyes avoidant. As Mumbo spoke to him, his posture straightened, each word seemingly made him taller. Or maybe it was as if Grian was shrinking himself. Quickly, he uses his hands to push off the ground, a hiss escaping his lips. Clenching his fist, he turned it over to reveal the source of the stinging sensation. 

Luckily it was just a small scrape. Small beads of blood pooled from the injury, glistening from the moon's haze. Grian lets out a small sigh of exasperation. “I don't have time for this Mumbo, I’ve been very busy…” Grian’s voice began to falter. His eyes flick up, drawn to an ever growing shadow looming over him. Mumbo, his once friendly figure, was drastically different. Long bat ears sprouted where his human ones once were, and a long slender cat-like tail flicked impatiently. A sharp inhale was taken through Grian’s teeth, he had almost forgotten Mumbo's new appearance.

Mumbo commission by: wampyrclown (Twitter/Tiktok/Tumblr)

Before he could even begin to process what was happening Mumbo was quick to interject. “That’s absolute bull and you know it,” The man’s nose scrunched, his arms now crossed, “You have been doing nothing but going from home to work for the past week.” Grian’s brows furrowed, his eyes widening slightly as he looked up. He stared at Mumbo in silence for a moment before finally being able to force something out. “What on Earth are you going on about?” A slight breathy chuckle left his lips. Has he really been watching this whole time? His stomach twisted in knots at the thought. Was he really that desperate to talk to him? For a moment, Mumbo just stood there. His expression contorted as he looked away. Now that the words left him, and he was saying it out loud, it sounded pretty bad. “What else am I meant to do Grian?” His tone shifted, getting higher as he tried to explain himself, “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks! Not a single word of why!” “So… you decided to stalk me?” “Well, I wasn't stalking you! I was just… watching.” Mumbo began to trail off, “From very.. very far away…” He quickly shook his head, trying to retain his train of thought, “The point is, I just wanted to know if I did something wrong!” His voice faltered, “What did I do to make you not want to be around me anymore..?” Silence, once again, began to fill the space between them. Grian’s lips parted to say something before ultimately deciding to keep quiet. There was hesitation in his movements. His hands  crossed under his arms, as if hugging himself. “You didn’t do anything, Mumbo..” Grian couldn't even make eye contact. He couldn’t bear to see him like this. The more that he avoided the conversation, the more Mumbo seemed to pry— and as much as he wanted to give an explanation, nothing came to him. He began to chew on his cheek in an attempt to keep his mouth shut– the weight of it all felt overwhelming. He couldn't dare bring all that baggage to Mumbo and expect him to help unpack. “Well… obviously something happened!” Mumbo’s tone grew to desperation. The avian’s eyes locked with the taller man’s golden irises, flickering with light. “We need to talk, y-you can't just.. Keep running away..” Mumbo was now unfathomably close. The blonde's breath stifled, voice stammering as he felt his heart pound. It felt as though it was going to pop right out of his chest. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He couldn't help but feel his face get warm from how close they have gotten. After all these years of yearning, wishing to get closer to Mumbo, this wasn't exactly what he had imagined. Mumbo’s nose began to twitch. A familiar aroma wafting into his nose. 

‘Where on earth is it coming from?’ His eyes darted around to identify where the sickly sweet scent might be originating, ultimately landing on Grian’s hand. A beautiful golden sap rested on it. He cocked a brow. Maybe it was honey, Mumbo thought to himself, inching closer once again. The motion makes the blonde's face drop, his pupils now fixated on the man’s lips. 

Oh god, he knew that look. 

It was a familiar one, one of intrigue and admixture of hunger.  ‘It must be the effects of the love potion making Mumbo act,’ Grian thought to himself. His stomach once again twisted. This was everything Grian could have wanted and more. His dreams were just at arms length. Yet it was hell. Heaven was looking upon him; If he were to indulge in that fantasy, he surely would taint it. The taller man reached out hesitantly, gripping onto Grian’s wrist. Each finger curling and sending a shockwave of adrenaline through the avian's body—begging, screaming at him to run away. Mumbo keeps his investigation going, turning the other's hand and looking into his palm, brows furrowing.

art by: the__spiral (Tiktok/Twitter)

Everything seemed to happen so fast. Before he even had a chance to react, Grian had grabbed hold onto Mumbo’s forearm, twisting his wrist and arm around behind his back, making Mumbo yelp in return. A sharp exhale escaped the blonde's mouth, almost in shock. The two men stilled. “Uhm.. Grian…?” Mumbo tried turning his neck,  “I think this is a bit unnecessary.” 

A small twisted smile painted on his lips, mustache curling. He managed to squirm a bit underneath the other's grip—surprisingly calm for the position he was in. His feet shifted his weight as he chuckled slightly. Though Grian couldn't tell if it was out of nervousness, it was an obvious underreaction. How on earth was he so calm when he was seconds away from being thrown around? With a sharp gasp, Grian opened his hands, releasing his grip. The swift motion causes Mumbo to slip, stumble, and faceplant onto the ground; letting out a slight groan in pain. “Ugh.. Ow…” 

All Grian could do now is stare. Slowly his feet began to stumble backwards. “No.. No, no, no..” Grian’s breath hitched, pulling his arms into himself. Mumbo finally managed to pry himself from the ground. Trying to gather himself, he sat on his knees. His gaze being led by Grian’s voice, his brows creasing as he watches him stumble back. “Grian, it's okay, really.. I'm not even that hurt—” “No! I didn't want to hurt you at all!” The blonde began to cry out, “This?! This is what I've been trying to avoid! I shouldn't have helped you..” He hesitates, “I shouldn’t even have gotten this close to you.” He swallows, looking away. As he turned, he couldn't help but longingly stare into the thick forest beyond his house. Its silent solitude practically was lulling him in. “I.. I don’t understand.” Mumbo's heart sank. The avian sucked air between his teeth, letting out a sigh. His arms drifted, landing on his sides with a slap. “Of course you wouldn’t," Grian spat out. “You wouldn't understand, even if the reason hit you square in the face.” The words leave him abruptly. Turning heel, his feet begin to try to make some distance. Grian’s face contorted to a grimace. Perhaps he was being a bit too rash, but he just had to get it through Mumbo's head one way or another. “No! You can’t just—Grian!” Stumbling forward, Mumbo propelled himself off the ground, reaching out. 

As Grian’s steps quicken, so does Mumbo’s.

Soon, the two are speed walking, then sprinting. Nothing left but trails of dust and dirt left in their wake. The forest air carries the sounds of crinkling leaves and pebbles being strewn, echoing throughout the trees. 

Their feet fell heavy. The avian maneuvered swiftly, leaping over branches and ducking between foliage, a few of which managed to whack the mustached man straight in the face. 

A growl leaves Mumbo as he spits out a few leaves.

There was no destination in Grian’s mind, and at this point, his feet were moving on their own. He could barely catch his breath. His lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. Panting at the cold night air, each inhale brought a sting to his throat. All Grian knew was that he had to get away. The last time he got close with someone—the time he truly thought he had a connection with Scar—Grian was forced to kill him with his bare hands. Forced by the Watchers that gave him power, the same Watchers that promised him freedom. The very same Watchers that had prying eyes on his and Mumbo’s chase. Frustratingly, each action only seemed to draw more and more attention to him. Grian knew deep down that he would never be able to escape them, but now they were dragging his friends into his mess. His mind could only conjure horrible scenarios, his throat tightening. This only motivated him to move faster. Now ducking between trees, twisting between them. 

He could barely manage to hear Mumbo.

“Grian!! Please!!” Mumbo practically cried out, his feet staggering as he tried desperately not to trip over anything else. It didn’t help that his height was giving a clear disadvantage in the moment, stumbling over roots as he attempted to duck under branches. Mumbo just didn't understand why Grian was so quick to run away. Maybe the mistake was deliberate, but it was still a mistake. It was something they could easily talk about—work though. Though before long his legs finally came to a halt– hands resting on his knees as he gasped for air. “Stars,” Mumbo spoke through breaths, looking out to the night sky almost as if to speak to them, "I've got to get into better shape.” He gulped for air, the pounding in his ears began to subside. Though curiously, he could still hear pebbles and branches being strewn about. He looked down at his own two feet to check if they were still moving. 

Of course they weren't. What a silly thought to have. Mumbo’s head raised up, ears tilting towards the commotion. His senses were still something to get used to. For a moment, it sounded like Grian was still running beside him. Amongst the commotion, something piqued his interest, his ear flicking at the small trinkling of a bell. Slowly, he adjusted himself. Looking into the dark forest, a wave of nostalgia hit him. This felt all too familiar, didn't it? The thick brambles and foliage called out to him, slowly luring him deeper into the greenwood. All he had to do now was follow that trail.

It finally seemed as though Grian had lost Mumbo. His feet slow to a halt as they shuffle through dried leaves. The air was thick and oppressive, each breath seemed like a hopeless intake. He barely had a moment to gather his surroundings before a familiar voice rang out to him. “Why are you running?..” His very own voice seemed to call from deep within the forest, echoing throughout the thicket—making the blonde snap his head towards the direction. 

He could make out a figure in the darkness, fading just as fast as appeared, resulting in Grian growling in exasperation. He frantically looked around, twisting and turning to no avail. “You’ve wanted this for so long, yet you’re running away? Why?” The voice was thick with contempt. “Drop the high and mighty act and show yourself!” Grian spat out. His hands tightening into a fist, his knuckles almost turning white from the pressure. His usual confident tone wavered slightly. “What ever are you talking about?” a small hum rang out, sinister and sly. “Drop it! I know you don't talk like that, just drop it!” “Fine. Whatever.” The doppelganger’s voice fell flat, bordering on monotone, “Now, can you explain why you’re ruining my story?” Grian could hardly believe what he was hearing; Midas had a common disregard of what he wanted, sure, but this was bordering on plain apathy. It was starting to get dangerous.  “Your story?!.. It's my life!” Grian practically pleaded out as he stared into the seemingly endless forest. Maybe coming into here really was a bad idea. With how on edge Grian was, the shadows of the forest were already playing tricks on him, shapes growing and shrinking, reaching out to him. His breath hitched, holding himself close as he tried to ground himself. Fizzling through the fog, a figure appeared before him, its light broken. A sinister smile plastered on the doppelganger's face.

“Awe, come on. You’re acting as if you’re not enjoying it a bit.” Midas cocked his head, golden locks falling over his face, cascading like a river. His once endearing smile was now sick and twisted. Grian was left speechless, his mouth agape, yet nothing left him. This was met with a soft chuckle from the figure, inching slowly closer and closer to him. “How long have the two of you been pining for? And you're sitting here and acting as if you’re not enjoying how desperate he's getting.” Midas began to slowly circle Grian, their feet both now in motion. A dance between the two began, both maneuvering around each other. Both not wanting the other to leave their own view.  Midas’s unwavering assurance was starting to make Grian’s palms sweat. 

Where on earth was this confidence coming from? Did he have something to do with how Mumbos was acting? As if the Midas could sense what the avian was thinking, it began to speak. A chuckle leaving the beast. “Oh, I have nothing in particular planned for you. Not yet, at least. I was just stalling.” Grian’s brow twitched, his stature relaxing slightly as he stared the other down. “What?” Snap. A small creak of a twig just manages to catch the avian's attention. His eyes opened wide, looking hopelessly into the desolate forest. An endless void stood in front of him with no apparent indication of human life. If his heart wasn't pounding before, it was practically ready to pop. The only discernible thing he could make out of the deep forest was two little gold dots staring directly back at him.

Grian was luckily lucid enough for his feet to begin his escape, stumbling over himself. A low, deep growl emanated from the forest. The sound of shuffling gets closer. “Oh no you don’t!” A voice called from behind him Before Grian could make any real distance, the chase gets cut short—the other leaping and pinning him down onto the ground. “If you’re not going to talk, can you at least listen?!” Mumbo's usual slicked back hair now laid unkempt, strands fallen over his face. The moonlight once again framed his figure with a soft glow. A lump formed in Grian’s throat—staring up at the disheveled man. At this point, did he really have a choice? Each attempt he made to wedge a gap between the two of them was deemed hopeless. His head turned to avoid his gaze, eyes now locked onto Mumbo’s movements. “I don’t know what's gotten into you. Hell, it doesn’t even matter at this point! I'm not going to let you ruin our friendship over some stupid potion!” Mumbo spat out. His body was trembling from adrenaline. Two pairs of eyes now interlocked, their breathing still heavy from the chase they endured. At least Grian now seemed to be willing to listen. He barely attempted to move as Mumbo trapped his torso between his hands. Grass blades poked Mumbo's fingers from how tightly he was gripping them. For a moment, Mumbo hesitated; He really never expected to get this far. His words stammered as he stared at Grian who was in between his palms. “I don’t care if it was an accident—on purpose—it doesn't matter.. Whatever happened, we can talk through it!” It was wishful thinking.

If it was as easy as talking through a few things, Grian would have done it already. “I don't think this is something I can just simply talk about..” Grian’s voice was soft but layered with a growl from a sore in his throat,  “I’ve been dealing with this for years.” Mumbo's eyebrows furrowed, turning his head to look away, taking his words into consideration. After a moment, he spoke. “Alone?” The blonde was quick to protest, “Well—no, of course not,” but there was hesitation. Mumbo’s words rang almost as clear as Gem’s. The words that fell out of Grian’s mouth were the very same excuse he gave earlier today. His brows furrowed. Grian didn’t want to admit it, but maybe they were right. Maybe he really was doing this all on his own. If he really wanted anything to change, he would have to take those steps towards it, but it was terrifying. For so long he had kept up these walls, secrets to protect himself. Could he really trust himself to let them down? Would Mumbo forgive him? “This.. has nothing to do with the potion.” The avian's words were slow and calculated. “Do you happen to remember, way back when I told you that I was a realm hopper?” The time seemed so distant, it was hard for Mumbo to recall. Grian had always been vague about his past. There had been sprinkles of information about a bad homelife, a terrible school and a rotten job, but any more prodding got Grian in a disorganized state with a distant stare. There was one time Mumbo happened to ask how Grian ended up in hermitcraft. Maybe this is what he is referring to? Asking resulted in a small but firm nod from Grian as confirmation. “Well.. I was only telling half of the truth in all honesty..” His words began to trail off, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m a watcher.” The word felt familiar to Mumbo, yet there was a cloud of confusion hanging over him. Sure, he's heard the villagers mention it before, though he’s never gotten any specifics. The word meant practically nothing to him. “That's nice and all.. but what does that mean exactly?” Grian’s face contorted for a moment, his nose crunching before stifling a chuckle. He wasn't sure if he should be insulted or relieved he never heard of such a thing. He decided on the latter. “Before Hermitcraft.. before any of this. I was just a normal human, with stupid ambitions,” As Grian began to explain he relaxed into the earth, tilting his head to look into the night sky. His eyes glazed over each individual star, connecting them as he went. He continued, “I was stuck in a dead end job. No ambitions or goals. At least, that’s what everyone seemed to tell me. What I was really passionate about was computers—telling stories.” The taller man's ears perked slightly. That clearly caught his attention. A small weary smile planted on Grian’s lips before continuing. “I wanted more. More than I could get. I wanted a new body, a new life.. and that's exactly what they promised to me.” Grian could almost feel the cold desolate office space he was cramped into. “They’re beings that can create realities, then bend them to their will. Anything and everything I could ever want is at my fingertips.” Grian’s arm extended, lifting his palm face up for Mumbo to see. A warm and familiar glow began to emanate from his finger tips, sparks of gold dust flaking off and dissipating into the air. Mumbo's eyes soften slightly, in awe of the sight. “That's amazing..” Mumbo breathed. The avian's hand quickly clenches, extinguishing the light. A hiss escapes his palm. “They also feed off of emotion. Typically negative ones,” Grian’s face twisted with scorn, watching as smoke lifted from his hand. “They’re parasites.” Mumbo's lips spread out thin, looking away for a bit. “Thats.. less amazing.” A soft chuckle escaped the avian's lips, “You could say that again.” Through the silence, Mumbo watched as the blonde's chest rose and fell. He often caught himself watching Grian, but now, it felt different somehow. 

Every flaw, every imperfection seemed to be a brush stroke on a piece of art. Even with sweaty palms and messy hair, heavy breaths, Mumbo deemed him perfect in every way. Mumbo knew these feelings, they were familiar to him, but maybe he just didn't know how to place them before. He cared for Grian, but the distance between them drove him crazy. Was he scared of losing him? 

Of course he was. Grian’s eyes were glazed over, deep in thought. Mumbo couldn’t even imagine what was going through his head. How he just wished to know what was haunting him. Maybe, just maybe, he could take a fraction of that pain away. But how do you even begin to comfort someone when you can't find the words? How do you help someone when you desperately need help yourself? “But.. you don’t do that. Do you?” The words leave Mumbo without a second thought. Grian pulled back a bit in surprise, his expression twisting. It was a genuine question, maybe a bit abrupt, but there was no malice coming from it. “Well, no..” Grian’s words were hesitant—unsure of himself—almost as if he'd never thought of it before. Do pranks count? Before Grian could even begin to contemplate the thought, Mumbo continued on. “You want to know something, Grian? I don't think you’re anything like those beings you speak of. I mean, the fact you care this much says at least something about your character, right?” A small, weary, but genuine smile curled on Mumbo’s lips. “But what if I hurt you..?” Grian’s voice cracked slightly, his jaw clenching from stifling back tears. The taller man's brows furrowed, sitting on the question for a moment before once again speaking up. “Well, of course you will hurt me.” Mumbo almost doesn't give the statement a second thought, before catching Grian’s expression. The blonde stared right through him, making Mumbo stammer. “B-but I'm going to hurt you too! It’s inevitable, there's no way we can guarantee not hurting each other! Through those moments, we will learn where we lack empathy and communication..” Mumbo began to trail off, his whole body somehow left sweatier than he did before. “Stars, I really am bad at finding words..” Mumbo let out a pitiful whimper, grumbling to himself. “No, I think I understand what you’re getting at..” Grian once again rested his head, looking back to the sky. He blinked a few times to clear the tears from the corners of his eyes. “So.. I'm assuming you know about the potion then?” Grian’s gaze was avoidant. Mumbo winced, clicking his tongue as he recalled events earlier that day. “I had a talk with Scar and Cub about it.The potion actually turned me into a fruit bat.” The taller man solemnly stated, hanging his head a bit. ‘Wait. What?’ Grian’s view was quickly returned to the other, his brows creasing. “The… potion did that?” He asked in disbelief. That just didn’t make any sense, especially with what he and Gem talked about earlier. The ingredients were specific, only used in love spells. Surely, Gem would have mentioned something, especially if there were elements of transformative magic in the potion. “It’s funny actually, I was coming over your way because I smelled something.” Mumbo hummed softly. He sat back on his calves, tilting his head as he spoke, “Everything feels different now. I can hear better, I can see better and even taste better! I don’t think I've felt this good in months,” Mumbo’s hand slowly began to grace Grian’s hand, slowly enveloping it and squeezing it, “You’ve been so worried about hurting me. When actually, if you really think about it, the potion helped a lot more than expected.”  Slowly, their fingers interlocked. Mumbo’s thumb gently grazing itself over the back of Grian’s hand. 

“Just imagine what kind of things you could do when you’re doing it on purpose.” Mumbo’s eyes locked into the others, getting lost in them. “But—” Grian hesitates, trying to force out his words, “That’s just not possible.. Gem said it was a love potion..” As the words fell from Grian’s mouth, a realization hit him. If Mumbo truly was only reacting from a potion, none of these feelings would be real, right? But through his worried words, Mumbo smiled back at him, an unwavering confidence that was a bit unusual from him, but nonetheless welcome. A red hue was plastered over his face. “Whatever potion it was, It helped. I feel better. I think I understand myself a bit better now, too..” Mumbo's words stammered as he tried to explain himself, “When you avoided me, I realized I didn't want to lose you. But not as a friend. I didn’t want you to leave my life. I wanted to be the person you went to when you needed to talk about something. I wanted you to crave my presence as much as I craved yours.”  There was hesitation. All Grian could do was stare, watching Mumbo’s iris flare with a golden glow. “I loved you long before the potion, Grian. Nothing will change that fact.”

[Authors note: This chapter is horror-centric and is a little bit scary! keep this in mind ][Content Warning for: Obessessive behavior and physical altercation]

“Scar, do you mind if I take another look at that scan? Could you grab that for me?” Cub yawned. It was a bright and early morning. The sun just made its way over the horizon, and the birds were beginning to wake up. The baby animals outside were beginning to play and packs began to eat the meals prepared by Scar. Despite the noise, it was peaceful. Scar, of course, was wide awake, an early riser. He hummed as he made his way through the clinic, grabbing various files and a fresh hot brew of coffee for Cub. This was his favorite part of the day, preparing for whatever it wanted to throw at him. “I’ve already got it right here,” Scar placed the folder neatly onto the table alongside the mug of hot coffee. Cub was already flipping through the pages, grabbing the handle of the mug and taking a swig. A soft hum buzzed from him. 

“Everything seems in order. He rested his head in his palm. “From the looks of things he was in the process of a transformation, but it was halted. Later on, another transformation took place.” He raised a brow as he looked up to Scar, who was now leaning on the desk, “Like, everything he said adds up. Well, almost everything.” “I don’t know man, this just… feels fishy,” Scar shifted in place, peering over and looking at the desk, “I feel it in my gut. Something about all of this feels off. I mean, I have heard of faulty potions before, but it was a completely different transformation!” Scar’s brows furrowed as he placed his hand on his hip. There was a certain assurance plastered on Scar's face. Scar may not have been as experienced with magic as he was, but he really had a knack at it. If something was wrong, Scar was usually able to discern it. It was like he had a sixth sense. A small smile slipped on Cub’s lips. “What are you thinking?” “It definitely has to do with some sort of outside force. If the potion was faulty and no magic was in it,” Scar shot a look at the other, his brows furrowing. “Something else has to be inflicting magic onto him… right?” Cub’s expression shifted as he took this into consideration. His eyebrows furrowed as he once again looked at a picture of Mumbo’s eye. He thought about Mumbo's features once more: Bat ears; claws; his teeth were normal… although the most that stood out to him were his tail and eyes. Could that be a clue? Cub lowered his voice. “If that's the case, he would have to be cursed in some way, or, best case scenario, made a deal with something.” He tsked his tongue as he grabbed the polaroid from the stack of papers. Swiveling his chair, he slid across the room, scooting to a projector. “Mind turning off that light?” They would have to get a good long look at these photographs again.

Stacks of papers, polaroids, and sticky notes lined across Mumbo's ivory bedroom walls. The pages worn and yellow from years of use; Pictures taken with various hermits, rewarding a job well done after a build or a machine was finished; Post it notes of simple reminders: Grab cobblestone, stop by Ron’s, finish super smelter. The more Grian saw, the less it made sense. Some of the notes were just complete nonsense ramblings. Scribbles and vague concepts that Grian couldn't wrap his head around. Blueprints to machines with no purpose and schematics to build them. Beside the blueprints, there were many with the same prolific ramblings. Mumbo’s handwriting was a mess, slanted and a bit loose as if he were dragging his hand across the page. It warped and transformed onto the paper. Could he have been falling asleep when he was writing this? Grian’s throat felt dry as he began to read one of the notes to himself. “What is the moon without the sun? With its golden hue shifting over the horizon, I lift my arms and accept what will become. No longer will I have to question, no longer will I have to fear. The sun is the answer.” A familiar feeling of unease and despair washed over Grian. He knew this was a bad idea, all of it, from the very beginning. The book. The potion. Letting Mumbo bite him. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how far he ran,  it seemed as though the watchers were right on his tail. No amount of avoidance was going to stop this from happening. Grian finally managed to swallow the lump in his throat, a shaky sigh leaving his lips. He would take one last moment to assess the situation he was in. There was no way that these papers were here the last time he was here, right? Were they? No, there was no way. He would have to have seen the disjointed ramblings on the wall clear as day. Grian was sure that it was only posters and polaroids. His eyes locked onto a few that were definitely not in Mumbo's handwriting. Notes reminding someone about meetings, or other builds they wanted to finish. Those were definitely his own. There was no doubt in his mind, but there were a few that didn’t seem to fit in. Reaching his hand over, Grian tears a sticky note from the wall, and holds one of the papers with his forefinger and thumb. His brows twitched, pinching together as he tried to place together why the calligraphy looked so familiar. 6PM Grian, Dont be late!! It was a simple note, short and sweet. The paper was thick, handmade felt, with a rose hue dyed into it. Why on earth would Mumbo need something like this? Did he just stumble across it and decide to keep it? Grian’s shoulders tensed, the paper crinkling in his hands as he realized its familiarity. No. This was Gem’s handwriting. A gentle reminder to a meeting he now most likely missed. His hand drifted to the wall and lifted up a few posters.

Another note from Gem, then another from Pearl telling him that he needs to finish fixing his mailbox. Mumbo was deliberately keeping these from him.

With each footstep against the cobblestone pavement, Mumbo felt lighter than air. A soft hum left him, lifting his head high. To him, everything felt brighter, more colorful. Mumbo’s eyes gently held shut, deeply inhaling and feeling the air enter his lungs. Every sensation he had was heightened. Every emotion he felt flooded him. A sigh escaped him and his shoulders relaxed. How freeing it felt to know that he now was himself again. Despite the change of his appearance, he felt a sense of euphoria knowing that Grian was the one to change him–to make him whole. Mumbo wondered if he ever felt this way before. For a moment Mumbo was able to forget the months of ache and worry he carried. It was all washed away by the warm tides of the sun. The market in main-street always had a bustling energy. Although it was a small town, everyone knew each other by name. And any time of day you would be able to hear people happily cheering ‘Good morning!’ from across the street. But most of all, word got around fast. Mumbo wasn’t necessarily the type to be extroverted, but he always made an attempt to make conversation to who was willing to listen. He was an active member in the community and had a pretty strict routine he abided to. So it would come as a shock when one day Mumbo stopped showing up. It wasn’t long before rumors got around that Mumbo had practically disappeared. No one had heard from him in weeks. In the market, popup shops had sprung out. Their wares were on display for all to see. Some vendors held fabrics and dyes while others held food or jewelry. All types of artisans sold products made with love and care, but what Mumbo was most focused on was the farmers. Walking to one of the stalls, Mumbo glanced over the various shimmering vegetables and fruits. They were freshly cleaned, dew still dripping from one of the cabbages leaves. A small hum left him. Curiously, he grabbed one of the apples in the stand, giving it a small sniff. 

“You touch it, you buy it.”

Mumbo’s head snaps up to the comment, noticing a stout shop clerk staring him down with their brow raised. A small nervous chuckle leaves him, his cheeks tugging to force a smile, “Oh! Of course,” His hand swiftly reaches into a small leather satchel, rummaging as he grabs a small coin pouch. Humming softly, Mumbo takes in consideration of the other produce.

“What type of vegetable do you think would be good for blood loss?” He asked, leaning in a bit closer to one of the baskets. It had been so long since he had a proper meal, he almost forgot what a balanced one looked like. “What?”

Mumbo’s eyes quickly darted back up to the cashier, whose face was shrouded in deep confusion. The side of their lip was tugged down, leaving them baffled at his question.

“I’m sorry—blood loss? Did I hear that correctly, sir?” They interrogated him. Mumbo’s neck and face flushed red at the question. Their eyes then give him an up and down, making his ears droop down.

How long has it been since Mumbo talked to another person in the village? ‘Were they always this intrusive towards people? Was it me? Is it how I look?’ Thousands of thoughts cross Mumbo's mind as a lump makes its way into his throat.

“Uh, actually, nevermind! Heh heh… Forget I said anything.” Mumbo’s hand hastily shoved a pile of coins onto the table—way too many for a single apple—then gave one last quiet apology. With his tail between his legs, he quickly scampered off to the next on his to-do list. An awkward encounter would never deter how happy he was! Mumbo would just have to stop by somewhere else to get a meal. Until then, Mumbo’s feet guided him to a familiar building with worn and faded bricks, snug betwixt two other buildings of the same material. Reaching out, his hand grabbed hold of the rusted handle, jostling it, and pushing the worn, white door despite the bit of resistance. A small ring of a bell echoed through the shop, then rang again as Mumbo closed the door behind him. “Well, do my eyes deceive me?” A hearty voice cheered across the store. A loud thump echoed through the room as a cardboard box was hoisted onto the counter. An old man with curly white hair and small circular glasses on the bridge of his nose, a similarly colored beard and mustache that nearly covered his upper lip. His white skin allowed the faint view of blue veins in his hands, slowly fading out the moment they relaxed from the box he was carrying.

“Mumbo Jumbo, is that you?” Ron asked, swiping the dust from his palms with his apron. A coy smile slipped across Mumbo's lips, a sheepish chuckle escaping him. “Bringing out the full name, are we?” Walking over to one of the tables in the middle of the room, he began to scavenge through the boxes, thumbing through the vinyls. “It’s nice to see you too, Ron.” “I haven't seen you in quite a while! Why, you look...” Ron began to trail off, adjusting his glasses. He squinted. “Are my eyes playing tricks on me or do you look, erm, different?” Ron hesitated, grabbing a few items from the box and assorting them on a shelf. A few glass figurines clinked together as he carefully placed them. “Ha! Oh, I know, isn’t it wonderful?” Mumbo boasted, making his ears perk up. One of his hands fluffed up his hair a bit, reveling in his new form. “I’ve never felt better!” Studying Mumbo for a moment, Ron gave out a soft sigh. “Well, at least you feel well enough to go out again! Last time I saw you, you didn’t seem like yourself…” “Y-Yes, well…ha..” Mumbo’s brows twinged, a small ping of panic fluttered in his chest as he remembered the weeks that passed. His hand pinched a corner of one of the albums, pulling it out of the box to examine it closer.

"I've never felt more like myself.” The words leave him softly, almost reassuring himself. Returning his attention to the box in front of him, Mumbo’s tail now flicked a bit impatiently. Grabbing another vinyl, he studied it for a moment before walking over to the front counter. “Erm, do you have anything more.. Relaxing?” He places a pair of albums onto the glass and pushes them forward, leaving Ron to palm them. “Hm? None of your other waltz vinyls relaxing enough?” He questions. 

Again, with the questions? “No, that's not it—I’ve got someone important over! So this vinyl needs to be extra special.” Mumbo's finger tapped the counter to emphasize his point. “Ah, something special for an extra special someone, hm?” Ron gave a knowing look. He does a single clap with his hands and walks over to another counter, “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” Another nervous chuckle escaped Mumbo. He stands by the front counter and allows his feet to shuffle in place. Mumbo wouldn’t necessarily consider himself a perfectionist, no, rather more so the opposite. As long as his machine worked, he didn’t care. Yet with Grian… When it came to Grian, he couldn’t risk just ‘acceptable’. No, he needed to go beyond. Mumbo needed to be impressive, he needed to be big, he just needed to be more. He needed to prove he could do more. With the two of them, there was a friendly sense of rivalry with their creations. Grian would build a tall home, Mumbo would have to build something bigger—something better. This was different. Mumbo wasn’t trying to be better than Grian. There was something to prove, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Ron placed his hand on the vinyl. Mumbo nearly jumped in place. When did he come back so quickly? 

"What's wrong with these?” Ron asked. “Huh? Well,” Mumbo hummed as he snapped out of thought. “They just need to be more..” His words trailed off, before making a vague gesture, “relaxing.” Looking over the vinyls again, a short chuckle left Ron. “ Well, both of them are good in their own right. I don't think you can get more relaxing than these.” He lifted one of the albums that was labeled ‘Piano With Nature Sounds’. “You said this was for someone special, right?” “Yes?” “Well, I believe they would trust you to pick what you think is best. You trust their word, right?” Ron then placed the album back onto the counter, pushing it towards Mumbo. The two albums now laid in front of Mumbo. A beat of silence passed between them as Mumbo took another look. There was some truth to Ron’s words, though Mumbo wasn’t too sure how he felt about it. Maybe it was silly of him to think that something as simple as getting music could be done wrong. At the end of the day, he just wanted everything to go right. Why couldn’t he trust himself to make a simple decision? Mumbo’s gloved fingers tapped against the counters. “When I was about your age, I knew the feeling all too well, especially when it came to a special someone,” Ron crossed his arms, a smile plastered on his face. “My wife, only the stars know what I'd do without her. She's the light of my life.” 

He began to trail off as he reminisced. “When we were young, she wanted this big, beautiful garden. Big. She wanted nothing more to spend the rest of her days tending to the beds of her sunflowers… and me? Well, all I wanted was to spend the rest of my life with her. To do anything to let her shine. It had gotten to a point where I, too, thought nothing but her garden!”  Ron reached his hand over, grabbing onto both of the vinyls Mumbo had picked out. “I thought nothing more than the vines that creeped on our fences, and the weeds that crowded our lilies. The only thing that stopped me from worrying was her telling me she wanted to see me shine, too. I had been so passionate about her, I didn’t stop twice to be passionate about anything else. I didn't even really know what I wanted out of myself. Heh... After that, I had to take some time to think about things, and that's when I decided to get this shop.” Ron placed the albums back down, “Sometimes, even with the small things, you have to let yourself shine through.” Mumbo gave a few small blinks. “That was… very insightful, actually. I.. I think I understand what you’re getting at.” A sigh escaped Mumbo, him grabbing one of the albums definitively. He peered over the vinyl. “Thanks.” “Ah, no need to thank me, lad! One of my reasons for opening my shop was for talking to people like you. Spreading a bit of wisdom is just a perk of working.” A smile spread across Ron’s face, which made his eyes squint. “Now, how much do I owe you?” Sliding his satchel down his arm, Mumbo reached into his pocket for his coin pouch. Ron held out his hands in protest. “Naw, please, take it!” “What? No!” Mumbo quickly began to rummage through his coinage, placing a few on the counter, “I-I couldn’t possibly—” Ron’s hand gently placed itself on top of Mumbo’s. “Think of it as a gift.” He then patted Mumbo's hand firmly, holding it. Mumbo opened his mouth, then he sighed. A soft, genuine smile spread across his face. He places the vinyl into his satchel. “Thank you.” With a wave, Mumbo guided his feet to the exit. The street had a quiet hum, people bustling as they walked to their destination. The warmth of the sun bounced off the stone paths, and Mumbo swears he can feel the soothing warmth seep through his shoes. There was one last thing to do on Mumbo’s list: Food. Although, the question remained what kind. Shuffling a bit, Mumbo came to a decision on his next destination. Maybe a stop at the butcher shop was in order. Mumbo had the perfect meal in mind.

No more secrets, Grian decided. The two would put an end to this endless loop of keeping things from each other, even if Grian had to do it by force. He was determined not to let this get to him, to not run away, and it was apparent Mumbo needed him more than ever before. But what was he supposed to do? The more he avoided hurting Mumbo, the worse the situation became. The more he leaned into it, the worse Mumbo became. Grian once again looked over the wall covered with papers and letters. There's no way a love potion did all of this, right? 

A simple love spell couldn’t make Mumbo simply teeter on obsession. At least, he hoped not. Could it have been a side effect of changing one of the ingredients? Just another stupid mistake. Grian winced. Grian squatted down and began his investigation through Mumbo’s dresser. Pulling a drawer open, he shuffled through its contents. Maybe the book Mumbo brought home would have something in it. Sure, it wouldn’t simply have the remedy inside, but it should at least give Grian a better understanding of what he was working with. Maybe, just maybe, it would give him a clue to how to fix Mumbo. Then, a speck. A flash of gold flickered. Grian’s hands grasped onto the familiar book, pulling it out of the dresser into the light. Hands trembling, he placed his thumbs on the fore-edge of the paper. There was no time for hesitation. What page was it on again? Grian opened the book. Empty. Empty? No. No, that couldn’t be right. Grian’s hands fumbled through the pages, looking for an answer that simply wasn’t there, then slammed the book shut. There were words on these pages before, right? Strangely enough, multiple pages were torn from the spine. Was this the same book? He examined the front cover. Plastered in gold, it was written in Galactic. The title of the book read: Midas. Grian’s nose scrunched. A moment ago, the title was completely different. He was absolutely sure he grabbed the Vampiric book—he remembered it clear as day. The words on the pages and the title practically disappeared all together. It vaguely reminded him of the woman who sold the book. She, too, disappeared. Grian slowly pried the book open again, separating the pages. The book was now filled with words, its dark ink stained on the ivory paper. Oh, there was no doubt about it: King Midas really had the Golden Touch! He thought it too good to be true. After this he touched the lilies that bordered the walk. They turned from pure white to bright yellow, but bent their heads lower than ever, as if they were ashamed of the change that the touch of King Midas had given them. His daughter walked towards him, then started running, with arms out to give him a hug. But just as her hand reached him, she, too, had become a golden statue. Suddenly all his bright treasures began to look ugly to him, and his heart grew as heavy as if that, too, were turning to gold. A small stifle emerged from the back of Grian’s throat. His grip on the book only grew tighter. This was all just another sick joke, wasn’t it? This book was just another tool of theirs. They were watching him. They were watching the entire time. Their eyes felt like pins on his back, making his hair stand on its end. The room around him began to dim, the shadows slowly growing in size. Grian sat still as he felt himself sinking deeper. Deeper. Until nothing but void surrounded him. His eyelids sank shut, his brows furrowing. “Grian, I—” “Just… leave me alone. Why won't you just leave me alone.” Grian opened his eyes, looking at the familiar golden glow. Midas stood before him. “I know you’re angry, but I can only suppress their eyes for so long. You know we can’t keep this up—” Grian uses all of his strength, slinging the hardback book across the room, straight through Midas. It bounces off the wall and lands on the ground with a heavy slam.

“YOU don’t know anything! I-I can keep this going for as long as possible! I’m not giving into their stupid fantasy! YOUR stupid fantasy!” His teeth bared. “I’m never letting anyone get hurt by you again!” “God, you can’t even listen?! You have no idea what you’ve done! You have no idea what you’re doing! If you would just listen—” “The last time I listened to you, you forced me to kill my best friend! I'm done listening. I'm done letting you shove me around.” Grian grew quiet, swallowing as he felt his throat became dry. “I just want you to leave me alone...” A beat of silence passed between the two. Midas shifted its weight uncomfortably, crossing his arms. “Fine.” Grian’s brows pinched, his lead lifting to meet the others' gaze. ‘Fine’? “Do you think I want to stay tethered to you..?” Midas’ voice echoes. “Having to wait for your every want and whim? Have you ever thought that I might want something, too? Want something more than to hide?” Midas turned away, holding himself tighter. Its head hung low, his view firmly planted onto the ground, “To be something more than a coward.” He spat. Grian swallowed the lump in his throat. A breath left him as he felt his face get cold. Slowly, he dragged himself from the ground. Grian’s mouth opened, wanting desperately to say something, anything, but nothing left him. He couldn’t defend himself. He was a coward. “So if you hate me, why don’t you just… get rid of me?” Midas suggested. A beat of silence passes between them. Grian hesitates, voice softening to question, “What… What would happen?” Midas’s head lifted. “What would happen if you disappeared?” Grian repeated. Midas’s eyes finally met Grian's, his brows furrowed. There was an uncertain sadness in his eyes. “I…” It hesitated, almost as if he, too, didn’t know the answer. Click. A familiar sound echoed through the home, violently ripping Grian back to reality. The sunlight that beamed from Mumbo’s bedroom window practically blinded him, forcing him to shield his eyes with his arm.. A small groan left him. Then, another familiar sound echoed. A long creak emitted from the hinges of the front door. Mumbo was home.

“Grian!” Mumbo’s voice rang through the empty halls of his humble home. Only silence answered him back. Mumbo’s brows pinched, shuffling awkwardly by the doorway. Grian must be sleeping. Slowly, he took a deep breath and exhaled. Hopefully he didn’t keep Grian waiting for too long. Maybe he just rested while Mumbo was out running errands. Walking to his kitchen, Mumbo placed his satchel on the counter with a light thump. His home was dark, it seemed the redstone wiring wasn’t working, but it wasn’t the top of his priority. So long as some of the lights worked, he would be fine. He would have to fix them when he had more time. He just simply didn’t have enough of it. Not now at least.

As he was about to make his way to the bedroom, a small glimpse of his clock wall collection caught his eye. Mumbo was so used to their sounds, it was background noise to him. They all ticked with a rhythm of disarray—all of them were off-time. He must have been so caught up with everything he didn’t notice the redstone caused a short circuit. Had he really let it get this bad? Mumbo’s head gently shook the thought away. He will fix them later. He would fix everything. Opening his bedroom door, he was left face to face with Grian. In front of him was the book, and all of his letters Mumbo stole. Mumbo's expression fell flat, his lips forming a small thin line. “Mumbo... we need to talk.” A nervous chuckle escaped Mumbo as he stood in the door frame. “Ha… uh. Seems that you’ve found my, uhm..” He wringed his hands together. “Your collection?” “WHAT? No! No, that’s.. Oh, goodness, is that what you think?!” “What else could I possibly think Mumbo? Y-You went through my belongings! You went through my mail! You went through my TRASH!” Grian promptly stood up. His tail whipped back and forth, the force pushing some of the letters towards Mumbo's feet.Mumbo put his hands up in protest.

“Gosh, Grian, please listen! I…” He pauses. “I got these things because.. I was just—I was hoping you would come looking for them. I just wanted to talk—” “Well, now we're talking.” “...Right.” Mumbo swallowed. A peering silence passed between them. Mumbo’s shoulders tensed as he straightened, his tail coiled around his leg tightly. Grian took a deep breath, shakily letting it escape him. “Look, I... It doesn't matter. What I'm worried about is this.” Grian reaches up onto the wall, grabbing a note and pulling it down, “This is your hand writing, isn’t it? What does it mean? ‘The sun is the answer’?” Mumbo’s brows twinged, an expression of confusion plastered on his face. He looked Grian up and down for a moment. Then, his lips slowly twisted into a smile. “Oh, is this supposed to be some sort of, like, pop quiz?” Grian froze, his grip tightening on the paper. “My love, of course I don’t know what it means, you made me write it.” Mumbo reminded him. Grian hesitated. “I made you write it. Me?”  Mumbo slowly walked over, grabbing hold of Grian’s hand. He slowly drifted Grian to a small desk in the corner of his room. “One late night, you found me asleep here at my desk. You took my hand, and the words drifted from your pen.” His hand clasped around Grian’s, his grip tightening, “You were as beautiful as ever.” He whispered. Grian violently ripped himself away, the paper falling from his hand. “I-I haven’t! We haven't seen each other since yesterday, Mumbo. I haven’t seen you in weeks!” His breath hitched. The paper fluttered to the ground. Mumbo faltered, taking a step back. He tries to keep a smile on his face. “You have been visiting me in my dreams.” He said with certainty, rubbing his thumb across his palm. 

Mumbo didn’t care how crazy he sounded, he knew what kind of power Grian held. There was no way that it wasn’t Grian. There was no way those dreams weren't real. All of those feelings, all of the talks, the promises he made. Grian can't just say they didn’t happen. Every time Mumbo woke up, he would find evidence of Grian being there. Items being moved and shoved around. Notes being left behind. Was Grian expecting him to ignore everything he saw? Everything he experienced? Grian shuffled, his feet instinctively dragging him back. His eyes were now wide with fear. Mumbo inched closer, his voice was soft.“You told me you wanted to be together forever. You said I love you.” His voice was tethering to a tremble, hands clenching open air. “Grian, please, don’t tell me that meant nothing.” Only silence answered his question. Grian stood by the desk like a deer in headlights, his eyes met Mumbo's golden ones. They were unfaltering, staring right through him and his charade without a shroud of doubt. They’re too much; pinpointed to his eyes with every bit of movement.

“I didn’t say anything like that.” Grian swallowed. He never wanted anything more than to scream it through the roof tops, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t risk putting Mumbo through loving him and its consequences. It was abundantly apparent that any sort of slip up would be catastrophic. It's already gotten so bad. The corners of Mumbo’s eyes welled with tears, his nose scrunching. “I don't believe you. I heard you, I saw you! I–” His hands scrunched with frustration, Mumbo’s eyes squeezed shut. “We made a deal.” A resiled silence—just for a moment. Slowly, Mumbo pried his eyes open, only for Grian to grab a hold of his shirt collar, slamming him onto the desk. Pens and pencils clattered onto the ground. Mumbo grunts, his lower back hitting the wood, the wind knocked out of him.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” “Grian?! I—” “WHO?! WHO DID YOU MAKE A DEAL WITH?!” Grian pleaded with bared teeth, pressing Mumbo farther onto the desk. Mumbo's eyes opened wide, stammering, “YOU! I-I made a deal with you!!” “I HAVEN'T SPOKEN TO YOU UNTIL YESTERDAY!” Grian shook Mumbo, “SO WHO DID YOU—?!”  Grian trailed off, his brows furrowing as he looked away. “So… who did you…” Mumbo breathed heavily. “It... It looked like me?” Grian asked tentatively. “It-It was you! Your voice, your hair, your eyes. You looked angelic.” Mumbo couldn’t help but stare at Grian’s features once again, his nose scrunching. A sad look was painted on him. Grian’s hands slowly drifted away from Mumbo’s shirt collar, swinging to his side. His stomach sank into a deep dark pit inside of him, twisting and turning as he started to put the pieces together.

No.

It couldn’t be Midas, could it? Only he was able to see him. Only he was able to talk to him, so… How could he? Grian’s voice trembled.  “I need to go.” He began to hasten out the room. “Grian, ” Mumbo pleaded. He lifts himself from the desk, his footsteps followed suit, “Grian, please, you’re weak.” Grian began to walk faster. God what was he going to do? He couldn’t actually leave Mumbo here could he? “Grian, you—you can stay for a moment. Just for a moment.” Mumbo's voice wavered. “I could cook you something.” Is he really going to run away again? Is he really going to hide? Grian’s thoughts warp inside his mind. “Mumbo, please…” “I bought you some music! I... I had dinner planned out,” Mumbo continued, “You could stay the night, Like..” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Just like we used to. Just like that one night.” Grian stopped in his tracks. He was holding it all together so well before, but this was just becoming too much. The thought of losing Mumbo became overwhelming, it practically consumed him. Grian took a deep breath, desperately trying to hold his emotions back. “If we keep doing this, I’m going to kill you,” Grian slowly turned his head. He doesn’t try to look at Mumbo. “I don’t know what I'd do with myself if that happened.” “Grian, if you leave me, I'll die without you!”  Mumbo stifled back a sob. To him, it was a fate worse than death. He couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing Grian again. Would he die alone?

He can’t do this, Mumbo’s mind cried. We were doing so well! What went wrong!? Tick. Tick Tick. Tick. In the room next door, clocks ticked with disarray. With each second, an off-time, unharmonic tick ghosted the men’s ears. Grian’s eyes drifted to the living room wall, then back to Mumbo. Grian’s hand then grabbed hold of the door knob. Tick Tick. Tick. Tick. “Please.” Mumbo reached his hand out, “Please, we can fix this—” Grian pulled open the front door. “I’m sorry. I really am.” Without another word, he stepped outside and closed the door. Grian was a coward. 

He always had been. Tick. Tick. ..Tick. 

…Tick.

It had been days if not weeks at this point. Mumbo was left with more questions than answers; In the span of a night, he had changed. His appearance, his attitude, his hunger. He felt fundamentally different. Something was off. Potion effects were known to be instantaneous, but they took hold overnight. Every time Mumbo thought he had come to a conclusion as to why, it fell apart. He thought, ‘Maybe the magic may have been delayed’. Yet these types of cases were unheard of. It just made no sense. Though, to be fair, Mumbo was never good at magic. It fascinated him, sure, but he could never quite figure it out. It had its own rules, its own boundaries—but even then it didn't always stick to them. He much rather keep to redstone, it felt safer and more calculated. Even so he felt as if there was a force dragging him back in—captivating him. He couldn’t stay away. For the past few days, Mumbo found himself preoccupied trying to decipher the golden book. Yet no matter how much he researched he came to a dead end. The Villagers were no help either, their words vague and cryptic. Watchers? Or was it Observers? His head began to spin, his stomach churning. It seemed like after he fixed one problem, two more would rear their heads. First, being sick from a virus, but now he just couldn't seem to keep anything down. Normal food didn't seem to have an appeal to him anymore, yet he couldn't bring himself to actually hurt anything. To slay it, and consume it seemed like an entirely other daunting task. And to top it all off, Grian was now distant. 

At first, it was general excuses of having to help someone, or that he was busy with a project, but now he was just being blatant—completely turning heel and speed walking off as soon as he caught a glimpse of the taller man—now it felt deliberate and malicious. ‘He could have at least made some attempt at an excuse’, Mumbo thought to himself. His nose twitching and scrunching a bit as he watched the other make his escape. His tail flicked in annoyance. It had gotten to a point where Mumbo had begun to sneak around Grian himself. Hiding behind buildings and peeking around corners to try and figure out why Grian had been so standoffish. It wasn't his proudest moment, he would admit. A twinge of guilt tended to follow him around. ‘Would this be considered stalking?’ Mumbo shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Grian had the same routine every day, work to home. One path. No detours. It was like he was trying to avoid everyone completely. Today was different. Instead of taking the usual route, he decided to make a different path, taking a sharp left and walking to the rustic wooden docks. Grian had taken a moment to rummage through his belongings.

Mumbo trailing right behind him. Finally, he would catch Grian in a moment of vulnerability and confront him. There would be nowhere to run. No excuses—just two adults talking. Mumbo had already planned out the conversation in his head. He shuffled behind a few buildings, peeking behind the corners and observing. Eventually, he finds himself behind Grian’s fishing hut. His palms began to sweat, pushing aside the twinge of guilt in his stomach. Subconsciously, he knew what he was doing was wrong. However, he felt as if there was no other choice. He needed to know why Grian was avoiding him, he needed to know if he did something wrong. He needed him to be direct. It was driving him mad. His weight shifts, preparing himself. Yet he's hesitant. Something feels off.His feet glued to the ground, stuck in place—watching. It wasn't out of nervousness—no—something subconsciously was telling him to stay put. 

Mumbo didn’t look like it, but he was the type to believe in superstition. Logically, he knew it was out of pure anxiety, yet he couldn't help but listen to this small thought. Then, sure enough, another voice called from far away.

His breath hitched.

Pulling himself further behind the hut he pressed his back firmly against the wall, trying to be as small as possible. His hands quickly grabbed hold of his tail and held it close. “Grian?! Grian, where are you?!” An angry but familiar voice called from the path. Mumbo’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to place it.

‘Was that Gem? What was she doing over here?’ Shuffling from the fishing hut grew louder and disorganized. From the sound of it, Grian was practically scrambling. Things clinking and clanking together before the blonde bursted out of the building, then quickly running off to the right.

“Grian what are you—oh. Ohhh no.” Gem stopped in her tracks, looking Grian up and down, then let out a sigh. “Are you stress fishing?” Her hands fell to her hips. “What? That's not a thing. People don't stress-fish.” The man was completely avoiding eye contact. His view firmly fixated on the bobber that was cascading against the lake waves. “You stress-fish.” Gem reiterated.

Plopping herself down, both their feet now dangled above the water. The wood creaked from their weight.

“You have been avoiding everyone recently.. It’s almost the end of the season. Scar said he found you passed out at his base, and you haven’t shaved in about a week. Obviously something is wrong.” Her voice grew a bit stern. 

Grian wasn’t the type to respond to tenderness. You couldn't be subtle. If you wanted answers from him you had to be direct. 

The blonde grimaced. 

“What isn’t wrong..” he muttered under his breath. As he stared into the water he could see his own warped reflection.

“And that! You’re being so deprecating!” Gem snapped. Her voice raised slightly, “I know sometimes you need your space. And I get that, but.. I’m worried—” She catches herself,   “No—EVERYONE’S worried! So many people are worried..”

Gem turned her head back to the water. “I just don’t want you to think you’re alone. You don’t have to be, you know?” 

A small plop came from the sea, the bobber now submerging. Grian was quick to reel it in, tugging at the rod. “I know I'm not alone.. But..” His voice dropped, holding the line and checking it—a glittering book attached. Gem scooted a bit closer. The title was smudged, but they could barely make it out. Efficiency four. Not exactly what he had in mind.

Grian sighed, flicking his hand up—a small purple light emerged—haphazardly, he tossed the book into his inventory, the rift flickering shut after. “But..?” Gem reiterated. It seemed like she wasn't going to let it down.

“I.. feel like I keep hurting people. Unintentionally.” He once again cast his rod into the water, his grip tightening. Waves carried the hook, shadows of fishes passing under, uninterested.

“Last time I visited Mumbo.. he was going on about immortality and I panicked. He was making a potion and..” Grian hesitated. “I… changed an ingredient.” He winced. Gem’s face twinged, wanting to say something, but she kept her lips sealed. Nodding, she waited for him to continue.

“I already know what you’re going to say. I know I shouldn’t have, but—god, I really didn’t know what to do! I didn’t want him to go through anything I’ve been through! .. Or what Scar did..” Grian’s shoulders began to tense, shrinking into himself. 

His mind called back to that night. He had woken up with Mumbo snugly in his arms, clinging somewhat desperately from the nightmare he endured. His embrace was soft and protective. Looking down he had noticed Mumbo too was clinging onto him. Their legs were interlocked. Grian had never felt so safe.

In the back of his mind, he knew this feeling would never last. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly sat up and examined the other. His eyes tried to adjust to the low light.

Mumbo's features had changed. He ran his fingers through Mumbo's thick dark hair, reaching and rubbing his ears, their tails interlocked. The sun had just begun to peek through the bedroom curtains, the light resting softly on the mustached man's face. For a moment, Grian held the other in his arms. He could have prevented this. He could have saved him. Yet, he didn’t. No matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does. Everything he touches dies.

His hand trailed back to Mumbo’s cheek, gently caressing it. 

He failed him. 

Tears began to well in his eyes. He blinked desperately to clear his vision. His breath quivered. Watching Mumbo, his skin began to desaturate, going from a fair ivory to a now sickly grey.

At least, he could have sworn it was.

No, it couldn't be–he tried to reassure himself. His balled fist wiped his face, hopelessly trying to clear the hallucination from his eyes. Grian’s chest tightened.

He wanted to sob. 

He wanted to scream and yell ‘till his lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. Yet nothing came out—his mouth dry. Nothing but a pitiful whimper left his lips.

It was happening all over again. His friend once again left in his arms. Blood once again left on his hands. “Scar..” He finally managed to choke out with a sob. Gem wrapped her arms around him tightly, a soft gasp of air escaped Grian’s lips as he returned to reality. His shoulders slumped over–His breathing quivered. “Take a deep breath, G.. you’re not there anymore…” She reassured, rubbing small circles on his back. His breath slowly eased back to normal, head now leaning against her shoulder. Looking out to the sea, he stared at the water once again. Almost as if reminding himself he was here by the docks,not back in the desert. This was never easy for either of them. It was uncomfortable. It was messy. Gem wasn’t sure how to properly reassure Grian. In reality there's never a real way to do it. All she could really do is sit and be a shoulder to cry on, even if it were just for a moment. Silence enveloped them both. The sun now starting to set, casting a brilliant amber hue on the land. There was a light breeze in the air sweeping leaves onto the ground. For a moment, it felt like there was nothing else in the world but them.

Behind the fishing hut, Mumbo couldn’t help but feel guilty. Realistically he knew he should be upset. Actually—he was. He just couldn’t keep a grudge now knowing that Grian had a reason for it. The mustached man contemplates, a moment passing. It might be best to come back to the conversation at a later date. Besides, he could barely think. His stomach clenches and twists, overwhelming him with nausea. He almost forgot the lack of food he’s gotten. His mind now falls back to the other issue at hand. Hunger. Where on Earth is he going to be able to find easy and sustainable blood? He could never bear the thought of asking one of the actual Hermits for help. Hurting anything was the last thing on his mind. Heck—he had a whole season dedicated to peace, love and plants! He wasn't just going to suddenly give up now. For the past few weeks he had been tiding himself over with meat bought from the shopping district, yet the blood was never enough. Funnily enough, it made him feel queasy. Though that must be from the quality, surely. He slowly turned his body in the direction of one of his neighbors' bases. 

A thought occurred to him.

‘Scar has a zoo, right?’ ‘Surely with him having a mixture of both animal and monster exhibits, he might have some spare food for vampires..’ His brows furrowed, placing his hand on his chin. Logically, his line of reasoning felt sound. Without a second thought, he began his way off. He looked around, making sure no one could see him in the process, his stomach now guiding his feet. He would just have to come back to this later, when he had all of his thoughts gathered. “We’ll figure this out together, okay? Tell me what ingredients you put in it..” Gem redirected the other. Grian blinked, attempting to ground himself. “Oh.. Let me think…” Sitting up a bit he began to recall the list, “Well I think a few of the basic things: Salt, roses, cinnamon..” His voice trailed off. Hoisting back his fishing rod, he whipped it back into the water. Maybe if he kept his hands busy, he could keep his mind off things. Gem counted on her fingers–listing off the ingredients in her head, “Alright, that makes sense so far.. But what's the ingredient you changed?” Every ingredient given so far seemed simple enough–they weren't even strong enough to make a spell on its own. Her brows furrowed slightly. What on earth could have made Grian so shaken up? “It was a blood orange.” Grian mentioned casually, his gaze still fixated on the water. Gems posture straightened, her eyes widening slightly. “..And you replaced it with?” She leaned a bit closer, making Grian pull away instinctively. “Uh—a regular orange..?” He could already sense he screwed up somehow. Sweat began to bead at his forehead. Gem used her forefinger and thumb, grabbing the bridge of her nose. Hissing slightly from her teeth. 

“Yep! Yep, don’t freak out.." She tried to reassure the other, but he had already begun to spin out. “I'm already freaked out, Gem!” Grian’s tone raised slightly, the woman putting her hands up slightly in protest. Grian’s voice faltered–toning himself down,“Just… Please tell me what I did wrong.” He let out a defeated sigh, his hands now clinging to the wooden rod. He must have heightened Mumbo’s illness, or worse– hexed him. His mind only rounded back to the worst case scenario. “Okay! Okay, so… You might have actually… made..” Gem began to wince, her voice faltering slightly. “..a love potion?” Her lips pulled back to a nervous smile–once again putting her hands out slightly to calm the other. The blonde stared at her for a moment, eyebrows furrowed. Surely, he must have misheard her. “What.”

Mumbo stood, looking up at the overwhelmingly large vet building. He had never been to one before, and to say it was intimidating was an understatement. Sure, there were a few Hermits that had to go to the vet every once in a while, he just never thought he would be added to the roster. His shoulders tensed slightly from embarrassment. Hesitantly swallowing his pride, his hand grabbed hold of the door handle, swinging it open. “Welcome! Welcome in, take a seat—uh.. Mumbo?” Calling out from the front desk was Scar, grabbing a few supplies from the drawer. He perked up in interest, now leaning over the desk. “Well, if it isn't the mustached man himself! What can I do for you?” Scar politely tipped his safari hat. 

Mumbo returned a timid smile. “I was wondering if you had any leftover blood bags? Or even a blood vial would do..” His body instinctively curled around himself, holding onto his torso. His stomach tightened. Scar’s face contorted, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Blood bags? What on Earth do you need those for?” His eyes dragged up and down, seeing how large his ears have gotten. “Oh. That's new, right?” Scar pointed over, “I didn't happen to miss that?” “Yeah, no, these are new…” Mumbo chuckled a bit, softly grabbing told of one of them. “I.. may have changed myself into a vampire.” The taller man's weight shifted slightly, his tail trying to hide itself. Scars eyes carefully squinted, looking the taller man up and down once more. “Vampire...” Scar reiterated, still pointing at him, his gaze interlocked.

Mumbo started to shift uncomfortably. “Uhm yes, that's why I've come by. Thought you would have some left over blood—” Mumbo's voice faltered when Scar held out his palm. “Hold that thought right there, Mumbo. I'm going to uh.. Just…”  He quickly motioned over at a few of the chairs behind Mumbo. “You know what? S-Sit down for a second.” Mumbo turns around to the quaint waiting room. It was small, but there were a few magazines and posters to look at. The ceiling lights above buzzed, hurting Mumbo's ears. “Hey, Cub! I'm going to need you over for a moment!” Scar cupped his hand to accentuate his voice. “Cub’s here?” Mumbo queried as he made his way over to one of the seats. As he sat down, the metal squeaked under pressure. “Yeah! He likes to help around sometimes when he's bored.” Scar leaned his weight onto the desk, “He likes to do all the technical stuff while I get to actually hang out with the animals!” Scar flashed a small smile, dimples forming in his cheeks. The Vex reached down and pulled out one of the drawers, taking a few sheets of paper. “I’m sure he's going to want you to fill these in.” Lifting himself from his station, he walked over to Mumbo and handed some paperwork to him. The taller man eyes quickly darting over the information. “It’s just some test stuff so we can make sure we’re giving you the best care we can offer.” Scar crossed his arms, leaning against the wall beside the other. As Cub walks in, Scar is quick to pull him aside and explain the situation, keeping their voices quiet. After filling out the information, Mumbo waited expectantly as the doctors went through the documentation. Looking through it, they were left stumped—once again walking away to talk amongst themselves. They decided it would be best to do some further testing, bringing him back to do blood work, x-rays, and a multitude of photographs of his eyes. Finally, they sat Mumbo on an examination table, his body uncomfortable as he waited. The room was once again small and dimly lit. It was a bit grungy with little furniture, which made sense in retrospect. It was a vet after-all, not a regular clinic. He wondered how often he would need to visit this place if he was going to need food. It felt like hours at this point. He thought he would never go home. Was this all truly necessary? ‘Might as well start planning on moving in..’ Mumbo thought, trying to entertain himself. He was growing bored from sitting in one place, tail flicking back and forth impatiently. There was a bit of commotion from the two doctors, whispering to each other as they shuffled through his papers. Cub spoke out loud, “There’s your problem: you may not be a vampire after-all.” Silence filled the room, Mumbo’s eyes widening. 

The stout man began to speak, “I was checking your X-ray chart—like your teeth for example. Usually, vampire hybrid teeth tend to grow and protrude from either the top canines, or the bottom ones. Yours however,” Cub motioned over to the taller man, “They seem to be the exact same size. Which makes me believe that you might actually be a fruit bat instead.” Mumbo's face paled. All of this work, all of this time—the spell was a complete flunk? Something always seemed to go wrong with him. With all of this bad luck, he was starting to consider he was cursed entirely. A groan escaped him. “You see, fruit bats aren't that much different evolutionary wise. They may have sharp teeth, but if you’re turning into one.. well, your teeth wouldn't need to change.” Cub walked over to his desk and sorted through, pulling out a pen. “That was my first clue. That, and the fact that you don't have bat wings, you don't burn in the sun..” Cubs voice tapered off, eyes trailing over the documents, then once again at the photographs of Mumbo’s eyes. There was just something that wasn’t connecting; All of the features Mumbo was presenting made sense, except for his eyes. Something was different. Mumbo wasn’t saying something.“W-well… I thought that was just a myth, no?” Mumbo’s brows furrowed.  “Do they not glitter in the sun?” His hands now intertwined, twiddling his thumbs. “Oh! I think I heard Grian talk about that once! They do that only at the Twilight hour!” Scar called out from the other side of the room, rummaging through a mini fridge. A few cans and glasses clinking from pushing them aside. “I have no idea what the two of you are talking about, but that's just completely not true.” Cub peeked up from the photographs, deciding to press it a bit. “How did you manage to do this in the first place?” Mumbo never had the opportunity to talk about this before. He wasn't exactly sure where to start. Gingerly, he tried to explain. “I’ve.. been sick. For a while. I was aging rapidly. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me– and I figured after some time it might have gone away on its own.. but one thing led to another..” “Ahh, I get it. One second you’re chasing fairies, next thing you know you’re making a deal with them.” Scar solemnly nodded. Mumbo's brows furrowed, “That’s.. strangely a good comparison?” His mind rounded back to that golden creature. How it glimmered and sparkled, casting a beautiful light on him.

Did he have something to do with this? A small hum left his lips. “Don't mind him..” Cub took a moment into consideration. Reaching from behind his ear he grabbed a pen, making it click. The stout man began to write down a few things on a small piece of paper. “He's right though, you know. A lot of us have gotten ourselves into a situation similar to yours.” He hummed softly. “Sometimes when you’re backed into a corner you do desperate things.” Cub’s eyes flicked up, looking the taller man over. Mumbo swallowed a lump in his throat. At least it was comforting to know that he didn't seem silly in this situation. Scar walked back, his heels clicking against the cold tile floor. He was holding something. As he got closer, it was revealed to be two objects, an apple and a vial of blood. A sickly sweet aroma emitted from the fruit, making Mumbo's mouth practically water. His nose twinged slightly. Quickly, he slapped his hand against his mouth. He didn’t expect to act so instinctively. He quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of the feeling. “I’ve got a vial of blood, just like you wanted. But I think we both know what you really need.” The Vex tossed over the objects. They slip into Mumbo’s hands, causing him to juggle them before he could catch it. Both of them held a beautiful crimson color. Mumbo’s shoulders slumped slightly as he looked them over. “You know Mumbo, if you really wanted to live forever, you should have turned into a lobster.” Scar simply put, making the man snap out of his dissociation. “What?” Mumbo’s brows furrowed, looking up. He half expected Scar to be just spouting nonsense. “Well, like, you know lobsters cells regenerate so fast! They are known to live for thousands of years. They don't die from old age!” Scar motioned to him, desperately trying to explain himself. “I swear I brought it up for a reason!” Mumbo's gaze fixated on Scar for a moment—only leaving a small blink or two in response. A small hum left his lips. 

Why didn't he come here sooner? 

That seemed like a fairly easier idea than what he had.  Mumbo carefully began to inspect the vial, turning it slightly in his hand. He didn’t want to admit it, but the sight made him a bit queasy, watching the thick liquid press on the glass. He swallowed. “You two won't say anything about this, right? Not a word?” Mumbo lifted his head, looking at the two. They both perked up in interest. The doctors gave a glance to each other. “Hey man, if you want to be known as a vampire, the secret stays here in this room with us..” A small sly smirk pulled on Cub’s lips. “Deal?” The taller man reached his hand out for a moment. He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly pulls his hand away, yelping as he sees a blue glint in the doctor's eyes. “WOAH! Hey! NO—not falling for that. No deals.” Mumbo instinctively curled his arms into himself and his tail clinged to his leg, making the two giggle in return.. “Sorry man, I was just trying to mess with you.” Cub returned his view to the desk, hand gliding his pen through the paperwork. “Of course we will keep it a secret. No promises needed.” Mumbo let out a small sigh. Sitting up, he once again looked at the objects in his hands, starting to make his way out. “Take care, Mumbo! If you need anything, my doors are wide open!” Scar cupped his hand, waving goodbye as the taller man walked away. Mumbo giving a small, timid wave in return. As much as he wanted to convince himself he wanted to drink the vial of blood, he couldn't help admitting how enticing the fruit was. He didn't even think apples could smell this good. His hands twinged. Originally the ritual was just to escape his illness, but Mumbo couldn't help but admit the idea of being a vampire was alluring. A grumble escaped him in frustration, reluctantly sliding the vial into a pocket of his. Walking outside of the Veterinary, his hands tossed the apple into the air. Catching it one last time, his arm used one of his sleeves to wipe it down in small circles. The scarlet fruit shimmered, luring him in. Bringing it closer, his teeth sank hesitantly into the fruit. It wasn’t long before Mumbo had quickly taken another bite, then a few more. Never before had he tasted grace with such a flavor—with each chomp he could feel his energy returning to him. His face was sticky from how messily he had consumed it, juice now dripping from his chin. He tried to lap it up, licking his lips, he hummed in satisfaction. When was the last time he was actually able to eat food like this? Looking up, he had almost forgotten he was standing in public—sheepishly now covering his face—luckily, no one seemed to be around. ‘At least the food situation is sorted..’ As Mumbo trekked his way through the tall forest, he was left with time to think. Leaves crunched underneath his feet. With a full stomach and a clear head, he made his way back to Grian’s base. From what he understood, Grian had deliberately changed an ingredient in the potion—possibly for a good reason. Yet, there was still a breach of trust. Mumbo didn't understand why Grian couldn't have just explained himself, surely he would have understood in the moment. Surely. Plus it didn't explain why Grian was so distant lately. Now would probably be the best time to confront him and actually put all of this behind them. It was dark now, moon light dappled through the tree leaves, resting on his skin. Night time came so rarely on the Server, it was hard to ever appreciate it. Looking up to the sky he took a moment to bask. 

The night sky seemed endless, thousands of stars sprawled across twinkled and gleamed down on the Hermitcraft Server. In Mumbo’s mind, he liked to imagine they were other worlds looking back at him. It comforted him in a way—to think that something, or someone, was looking up at the very night sky as him. The moon was just as beautiful. Though, he was having difficulty putting exactly why it was drawing him in. Then it suddenly hit him. No—the moon itself wasn't beautiful—it was its light. Its light was drawing him in. He tilted his head back a bit, basking—its warmth was almost as great as the suns. Sadly though, all the moon was good for was reflecting that light. 

What is the moon without the sun? His feet mindlessly continued to follow the scarce dirt path. As they moved, a sickly sweet scent wafted over to him. His ears perked up. Peeking over the wheat field, his eyes squinted to identify the location of the fragrance. Curious, his nose began to guide him, leading him into the field. It seemed to be emitting from behind the fishing hut. 

His brows furrowed. 

Maybe Grian left a bag down somewhere. He was always leaving things behind, leaving them for Mumbo to collect. Small scraps of papers, feathers, metal bottle caps and what not. Maybe he left some spare fruit around. The boardwalk was silent, only the sounds of waves crashing against the shore were left alongside the tapping of Mumbo’s Heels on the dock, and leaves scraping about. A small, confused hum left the mustached man's lips. There didn't seem to be anything laying around—yet the smell was stronger than ever. 

“Have you ever worked on anything mechanical—like this, Grian?” The taller man nodded over to the clock he had been working on, various cogs and screws strewn about on his desk. “Mechanical?” The bird queried, taking his eyes off from the book he had been reading. “Well, I mean, I used to work with computers. Not sure if you would call that mechanical though.” He explained as he placed his wine glass on a coaster. Mumbo slowly leaned back in his chair, placing down the screwdriver he was holding. “Com-puters, hm?” The word felt a bit foreign to him, playing with how it sounded in his mouth. “What did you do then?” 

Grian clicked his tongue, looking up for a moment to think. How do you describe computers to someone who had never been around them? 

“Well, essentially they’re like these medium-sized box machines. They have a digital display,” The mustached man’s eyes lit up—sitting up slightly in attention as the blonde continued, “I used to get paid to fix other people’s issues, on their own device.” 

“Ah, so a mechanic! Kind of like me!” The mustached man gave a cheery smile, the ends curling slightly. Turning back to his desk, he continued his work as Grian spoke. 

“Kind of? Never was interested in it that much though.. I liked making games with them.” 

“Ah, so like Tango then.” Mumbo hummed softly. He could only imagine what kind of games the other could make with a machine like that. 

Shuffling slightly in his seat, he parted his shirt. Usually, he would be uncomfortable to be this indecent in front of someone, but the room had become a bit too stuffy for his liking. Plus, Grian was probably the last person to be uncomfortable with an unbuttoned shirt. 

Well, maybe—except for Scar.

"Oh my god, what happened to you?" The sudden seriousness in the blonde's tone made Mumbo jump, then burst into laughter. "Huh?! I'm being serious! you have huge scars on your chest!" To Grian, it felt like a straight forward question. 

Majority of the other Hermits had scars from momentous occasions such as battles or explosions… Sometimes stupid redstone mishaps. Was it crazy to be a bit concerned? 

Though when he leaned closer, the scars looked to be done with great precision. The taller man practically folded in half, now beginning to wheeze. 

The hangout had lasted so long into the night, they couldn't tell if they were drunk off alcohol or sleep deprivation. Maybe it was both. Either way, every little thing made the two giggle and burst into laughter.

The avian's brows furrowed as he crossed his arms and sank into the couch, blood rushed to his face. His tail slowly began tapping against the couch. Eyes flickering down, he quickly grabbed hold of it. It was almost embarrassing how easy it was to read. 

“Hold on! Let me explain." Mumbo wiped away his tears, stifling back his laughter. A small sigh escapes his lips. Shifting his weight he started his lecture, he instinctually pressed the tips of his fingers together, tapping them in a rhythmic motion. He reminded Grian a bit of a wind up toy.

“I had gender reassignment surgery! Also known as top surgery.” 

Snapping out of his thoughts, Grian returned a confused look for a second. Cocking his head to think, his hair fell over his eyes. The taller man watched his face, Grian’s brows creasing. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head. Slowly, but surely, "Mumbo. Are you coming out as a Trans woman?"

Mumbo's hair stood on end. His lips spread into a thin line. "What?! Okay—you have to stop jumping to conclusions, mate." He laughed out, though his tone suggested he was serious.

"I'm a man! Transmasculine?" The man opened up his unbuttoned shirt slightly for a better look at his scars. "Oh! God, that makes more sense..” The wings cascading on the sides of the blonde’s face instinctively covered his eyes. “Sorry. I can be impulsive when I drink.." 

Neither of them had been paying attention to how many drinks were poured; the two were just having such a good time. Nights like these really did make everything worth it though, Grian thought to himself as he swirled his drink. If only he could experience this every night. The liquid swirled around the glass. "I mean, I guess I'm flattered that you thought I was born a man? This was made by yours truly!"  Mumbo made a vague gesture at himself, sitting tall, then took a bow, resulting in a chuckle—the exact reaction he was intending. "Well, I mean.. I got Doc to help me with the surgery part.. but the rest was me! Honest." He returned to playing with his fingertips. Silence dissipated through the room. Mumbo watching expectantly and Grian shuffling in awkwardness. "So like.. How did you know?" The words fell out of the bird's mouth a bit abruptly, making the other produce a small confused hum in response.

Grian leaned in with his arms now resting on his knees, attention fully now on his friend. The other’s posture straightened. "Hm? How did I know what?" It was a simple question, sure, but it was a loaded one. Mumbo had a habit of watching people's facial expressions, trying to predict how they were feeling. It worked majority of the time—he liked to think so anyways. Though with Grian it was an entirely different story. Mumbo could never quite place exactly where his head was at. He was always so hot and cold, yet it never drove him away. To him, Grian was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

"Like.. did you always know? That you were a man, I mean." The bird’s hands clenched, feeling his palms begin to sweat.

The taller man's eyes flicked down, shifting his tone slightly. “Well.. I personally found out pretty young– but that's not everyone's experience..”  His hands trailed off and started picking at his gloves, playing with the rim. His mouth opened to say something before a bell chimed through the room. Then, many more. "Goodness, is that really the hour? It's gotten late.." Mumbo turned to one of the many clocks that littered his living room wall. The ticking had become background noise underneath them talking and the waltz vinyl they had on. It wasn't the methodicalness of the clocks that he enjoyed, it was the inner workings. He absolutely loved to take them apart, see how they worked, and put them back together. They were all miniature redstone machines—to him, at least. 

Mumbo had clocks of all shapes and sizes: Some bought, homemade, digital, and some completely made out of wood. All of them pristine, All of them exactly on time. 2 O'clock AM.

It would have been a beautiful symphony of chimes and organs if it hadn’t interrupted the two.

Though, sadly, as all good things do, their time had come to an end. 

"We could always continue the conversation in the morning?" Mumbo offered, walking over to his record player. Carefully grabbing the vinyl and placing it in its case almost mindlessly.  Drifting through the room, he began to gather the glasses and other miscellaneous things to clean. "Oh! Yeah, sure." Grian managed to squeak out, his gaze a bit glossed over. Mumbo started to finish the last bit of the nightly routine. It was becoming more apparent by the second that the other had no intention of going home. No matter. Mumbo would simply gather some essentials for Grian. After cleaning the dishes, he collected blankets, unsure which type Grian would like. Drifting back into the living room he saw the other, stuck in his place. "Are you ready for bed, Grian? Do you need some extra clothes?" He asked aloud to get the bird’s attention, tossing a few of the blankets onto his forearm. "Bed?" The bird’s head snapped back to the other, "Oh. Am I sleeping out here?"

Mumbo's stammered. "Well, I mean, you could always sleep in my room?" he suggested. Silence filled the space, making Mumbo awkwardly shift in his shoes. Grian considered this for a moment. It seemed like the other was expecting him to sleep. Tonight would probably be hell, but the thought of staying at his friend's house was comforting at least. Slowly, he stood up and reached out, stretching his arms. "That doesn't sound half bad.." He purred softly, sliding on house slippers before walking over. Mumbo glanced over at the couch ‘Would that mean I sleep here then?’ 

His mind began to bubble and froth with thoughts, each new one zapping a synapse.  

‘Do I have to?’

Like a match, the thoughts ignited a fire inside of him, flicks of anxiety rising in his chest. It was a familiar feeling no doubt, but he had never been able to place it before. Did he want to sleep next to Grian?

Locked in place, his stomach tangled into knots. The feelings rushed to him so suddenly it almost made him nauseous. Maybe it was the alcohol making him feel this way. Slowly he managed to pry his shoes from the floor, leading the blonde back to his room. ‘My stars, what am I doing..?’

A small huff escaped his lips, once again trying to regain composure. Realistically, he shouldn't be so nervous about this. But before he knew it, they had made their way to his room. The space is what you would call an organized mess. The walls were plastered with papers, posters, and various things that he found interesting. Some with mechanical builds—presumably his favorites. 

Others were piled notes he collected from Hermits through the years, reminders and doodles strewn about. Shelves lined up the walls with trinkets and oddities. Everywhere you looked there was something interesting to stare at. 

"I have some extra clothes in my closet if you need any." Mumbo placed the blankets he was holding neatly onto the bed. Drifting over, he collected both him and Grian some clothing before the bird could protest.

"No, I'm fine..“ Grian’s voice tapered off, eyes fixating behind Mumbo. The latter had closed the door behind them.

“Wait. Are you sleeping in here too..?" The griffin raised a brow. 

Mumbo was shy about any form of intimacy, even between friends. Grian could barely give a hug to the mustached man before he would start squirming or fidgeting. 

"Is that ok? If not, I can go into the living room! I just," His voice trails off, trying to come up with some sort of excuse, but falls short, his voice trailing off into a pitiful whimper. His hands interlocked, playing with his fingers to quell his nerves.

None of this was planned. Originally he wasn't intending on sleeping next to him, but it had been so long since he slept next to another person—and the thought of it being Grian..

Sweat beads on his forehead. 'What if Grian says no?' 

'What if Grian hates me for suggesting something like this?' 

'God this was such a stupid, stupid idea.'

"No! No. You're fine." Grian quickly reassured, hesitantly admitting, "In all honesty, I kind of need the comfort right now.."

This wasn't something he would have normally said to anyone. No, normally he would bottle these emotions until you could see the cracks form. He decided to chalk it up to the fact he wasn't sober, and absolutely nothing else. Surely, he would have done this with any of his other friends. His mind called back to those lonesome nights with Scar. The desert was cold and unforgiving, and Scar’s embrace was warm and welcoming. 

Loneliness was normalcy—Grian almost forgetting what it had been like to make a connection with another human being. Though with Scar, it felt almost destined. The two clicked so easily, it made sense to cling onto him for comfort. Surely, this was no different.

Mumbo couldn’t help but agree with Grian’s statement, slumping over in relief as he handed over a baggy tee and some shorts. With his enigmatic virus he desperately needed the reassurance that if something were to happen... 

No—he shouldn't think that way—nothing would happen. He would figure it out as soon as he awakened in the morning. For now, he returned to his routine, scooting to his bathroom to allow Grian some privacy.

Walking to his sink he twisted the cap, steam hissing. Resting his arms against the rim, he cusped his hands together to collect the warm water. His mind started to flood. First the usual thoughts, things like what he would need to do in the morning, what should be prepared for breakfast.. Then, Grian. Curiously, his mind kept circling to Grian. 

The way his blonde hair curled and fell over his eyes. His soft jawline and facial hair. The way his wings curved around his hips.. God, he really shouldn't be thinking this about his friend, should he? He couldn't help but feel guilty—but no matter how hard he tried, he just kept rounding back to Grian. At this point he couldn't tell if he was hot from his thoughts or from the steam filling the room.

The way Grian's tail flicked around when he was lost in thought, or annoyed. The way that he would burst into laughter at any of Mumbo's silly little jokes. The way that every single season, there was something different about him.. He started to wonder: What else was new about Grian? What was he hiding behind that loose sweater of his? Mumbo's breath hitched—quickly turning off the tap and panting softly.

'What was that?! Why did I think that?!'

Staring at the mirror, his hands clenched onto his mouth as if to keep his thoughts to himself. He couldn't let the other know he was thinking something like this—especially if they were going to sleep together! Or next to each other? Whatever, to him it was equally intimidating.

In an admixture of nervousness and excitement, his chest began to tighten. Looking at the reflection, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of gold. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, inching closer.

"Mumbo?" A voice called out from behind.

The mustached man let out a small yelp. Quickly moving his hands from his mouth to his eyes. He had half expected the other to walk in indecently. Peeking through his fingers, he could see the other was in fact fully clothed in the same black tee and shorts he gave him.

"Jeez, you're jumpy today! You were in here for a while.. And you weren't answering.." His eyes started to look the taller man over. Mumbo’s face was pretty flushed from the steam in the room.

Grian’s eyes squinted. 

The man stammered, trying to regain his composure. "I'm fine! Just.." 

His voice trailed off, view sweeping over Grian. His clothes were a bit big for him, falling loosely on his figure.

 "Got lost in thought." He swallowed the lump in his throat. He had to fight the urge to hide his face, as if the other could see straight through him and his thoughts. "I'll be out in a moment, okay?" Forcing out a smile, clasping his hands together almost pleadingly—then crumpled once the other had left, resting his body over the sink for comfort.

These feelings needed to get under wrap if he was going to go back out there. Maybe returning to his routine would bring some normalcy? Starting to undress, he slid off his white button up, then reached down to unlace his girdle. After a shower, he would then slip into some nice red silk pajamas. Finally, one last look at his reflection.

'Get your feelings under control. When you wake up, you will figure it out.. Then everything will be fine.' He nodded at himself as if to agree with the thoughts. His heels twisted towards the door. He hesitantly grabbed onto the bathroom handle and opened the door. The only source of light emanated from behind, causing a sliver of light to cascade onto the floor. 

Steam slowly dissipated into the space, the cold prickling his skin. The silence was deafening. As he walked out he took a quick peek over at his bed. It seemed as though Grian had already made a claim to a spot, his chest rising and lowering softly. Mumbo stares. He could see that the other had arranged multiple blankets in a way that resembled a nest. Grian was tucked away, curled up. He must have fallen asleep while Mumbo was busy. 

‘Poor thing..’ 

With baited breath he snuck his way in— careful to not wake the other with the shift. Grabbing the covers, Mumbo leaned his weight onto the bed, sliding onto it. A small sigh of relief escaped him, body now fully relaxing onto the bed. He had almost forgotten how tiring it was just doing basic tasks now. Soon, he wouldn’t have to worry about that. The two were now laying inches apart. Fearing he would accidentally break the unsaid boundary between the two, he didn't dare move any closer. The distance felt like they were miles apart—but it looked like Mumbo was going to have to settle. Watching the other’s chest rise and fall, he felt his eyelids begin to fall heavy. His eyes slowly trailed down his body.

Grian’s tail was swaying back and forth unconsciously. Mumbo couldn’t help but feel a bit entranced by the movement. If Grian ever found out the word ‘cute’ were being used to describe him, he would probably slice them alive. Mumbo would keep this secret to the grave. 

Slowly but surely, sleep began to catch up with him. Every blink brought him closer. He thought to himself, ‘If only every night were like this’ 

Exhaustion caught up with him at last, falling asleep.

Wandering. 

No destination in mind—only motion.

He had found himself in a forest. The trees morphed into one another, forming different bigger and smaller trees. 

The air was thick. 

The path never stayed the same.

Despite this, he found himself perfectly calm. 

He was searching for something. 

A chime of small bells echoed throughout the greenwood—they sounded familiar. His mind kept calling back to all the various clocks on his living room wall. He thought maybe it was one of them. Maybe the sound would lead him back home.

Every turn took him deeper within the forest, each path winding into another. He was starting to feel disoriented. Not fully paying attention to what was ahead, his foot gets caught on a root. Falling forward, he braced for impact—instead, he fell into darkness. “You found me!” A soft giggle echoed through, bouncing off the walls. "Grian..?" Mumbo's view was fuzzy.

 He tried to blink it away. His view focused.

The space slowly came into view. He was now laying on his bed, and it was incredibly dark. The only light in the room radiating from the being.

The figure's expression softened, its eyes squinting as if it was smiling. "So you understand me then? You can see me?" Grian's voice rang from the foot of his bed. 

The creature moved gracefully. As it moved, a small ringing could be heard. Its form shimmered and shined like a star, and by god it was beautiful; The creature made everything around it seem light, his hair flowing and weaving softly like waves. There was no denying it was Grian. His voice, his attitude.. Who else could it be? It slowly began to climb onto his bed, its ethereal light following. 

The angel was sitting on top of him now, making his breath hitch. His hands twitched, instinctively trying to grab him, but he remained still. The creature slowly leaned closer. 

Was he in sleep paralysis? Every sensation felt so real. His heart began to race

The angel spoke again, repeating itself, "Can you see me?" Its head cocked to the side curiously, looking down at him. There seemed to be no concept of personal space for it.  Mumbo couldn't help but feel endeared by the creature, even if he was nervous. Hesitantly he answered, "I—yes? I can see you.." Mumbo managed to squeak out. Their noses were touching now. A small hum was released from it, leaning back and sitting back up. You could see right through the being’s torso.

"I knew you would," A giggle echoed from the star. "Of course you would.." Gingerly trailing off, its gaze never left the man, enhancing Mumbo's feelings even more.

For a moment, the angel's expression twinged. Mumbo couldn't quite place what it was exactly. Was it sadness? No—it was more of a look of determination. Its hand now trailing down to Mumbo's chest, its hands grabbing the fabric of his shirt. It pleaded softly,

"Promise to do me a favor,"

Mumbo's eyes widened. His lips tightening into a thin line as the star once again leaned closer, inches apart. Reaching its hand out, it gently cupped Mumbo's cheek. As it held him, it left small traces of a glitter like material on him. The star whispered, "I can help you.” Its tone suggested it was bargaining with him. 

“That potion you made.. It didn’t seem to work quite right. I could pull a few strings, you know..” A golden feather materialized before them—the angel reached out, grabbing hold and showing it off proudly. Examining a bit closer, it appeared to be a quill. It was almost hard to believe something so beautiful—so brilliant—would need to negotiate with something like him. Mumbo’s breath hitched, latching onto every word being spoken. Never had he felt so enamored by something’s presence. Mumbo swallowed the lump in his throat. “Anything.” He breathed out. Every word he spoke felt like molasses sticking on his tongue. Doing anything in this state was almost impossible. Despite this, the message seemed to get across. The other smiled in response. “Good.” The angel used its hand to leverage itself back up.

As it pressed down, the other began sinking through his bed. Letting out a yelp, his hands twitched and reached out for the being to grab hold. The darkness beneath him felt endless.

A smile was the only thing he received from the angel. 

“Remember your promise. ‘Til we meet again, my Starlight.” Mumbo could feel his body start to slip. He desperately reached for the angel, sinking into the abyss. The angel's light slipped further and further away from him—though his warmth remained. He basked in its light for as long as he could, feeling the sun on his skin.

Whatever it wanted, he would do everything in his power to do it. But until then, he would rest.

The warmth soon began to spread against his skin once again. Groggily, his eyes opened and focused on his now sunlit room. His fingertips grazed against his cheek. As his hand came into view, it was exactly as he expected. Yep. Clean. Definitely a dream. He must have been so desperate, he wanted something to save him. His hands rubbed the corners of his eyes, trying to rub the sleep and desperation off of them. He was starting to feel a bit hopeless. Mumbo opened his mouth to say something, yet as his body turned, he found there was an empty space. The blankets formed where Grian had slept. His brows furrowed. 

Did he do something wrong? Maybe it was too forward of him after all. Slumping his legs over his bed, he forced himself to stand up. It was hard to believe Grian wouldn’t have at least said goodbye to him.

‘Maybe something came up’, he hoped. Was it bad to hope something else happened? 

He manages to find his way to the bathroom, shuffling his feet on the cold tile floor. 

Sadly he would have to put his emotions behind him for the moment. For now, he would have to figure out what to do. Since the potion didn’t work, a new plan was desperately needed. It was either that or completely decipher an ancient language. Both tasks felt equally daunting. 

His hands began to work, grabbing the tap and twisting. A violent screech emitted from it, making the man flinch. What on Earth was that? The sound felt like nails on a chalkboard. ‘Did it come from the tap? No, surely not.’ He began to investigate. 

A squeak or two was not uncommon for the sink. He knew he had not been fair with it—not giving the proper love and attention it needed. The sink definitely was in desperate need of some oil. But still, it was unrealistic that the sound came from it and not something else. His brows furrowed.

Staring at his mirror in disbelief, he grabbed onto his face—touching his skin to make sure it was real—two bat ears sat on the sides of his face, replacing his usual human ones. Maybe he was still dreaming? Using his index finger and thumb he grabbed onto one of his ears, pinching it. 

“Ow!” Yep, definitely not dreaming.

His head twisted, looking at every detail. It seemed that overnight, his full head of hair changed, returning to his dark color—Alongside his facial features, no more eye bags, no more stress lines. Completely and utterly himself. 

Well, excluding the new bat ears. ‘Vampire bat ears?’ 

The gears in his mind began to turn, recalling a faint memory returning from the night before. That gold creature—it mentioned something. 

‘Didn’t it say the potion didn’t work? If that's the case, why do I look different?’ His brows furrowed, staring at his reflection. Peering into his mirror he turned to his cheek, using his index finger to pull back his lips. 

Was his mind playing tricks on him, or were his canines sharper? ‘Maybe it helped?.. Either that or somehow the magic was delayed..’ His hands still prodded his face, fearing that they somehow forgot him. Luckily for him, it seemed his appearance was here to stay. On the other hand there was now another issue—

He was now a vampire. 

Cold, white and desolate. That's how Grian would have described his cubical.

Grian was no stranger to these kinds of dreams, in fact they seemed to be a common theme with him. Each nightmare had been a terrible reminder of his home. The late nights struggling to develop his own personal passion project, losing sleep over work, and losing those who he had thought were his friends. No matter how hard he would try to repress the memories of tireless nights of isolation, they would rear their ugly head. Their images shifted from vague memories of his childhood to more prominent ones—liminal familiar locations such as home and school. He was thankful no one was ever there.

As the haze settled, Grian’s focus fell onto a bright screen. It was a large, white, boxy computer—the edges of the plastic now yellow from its years of use. Various spreadsheets were floating on his screen, but none of them interested him. He couldn't read them if he tried anyways; He figured they were just old worksheets he never got around to finishing.

This was one of his more common dreams, stuck overnight at his office. It wasn't as distressing as the others—At worst it was just unsettling, he thought to himself. With nothing happening Grian felt boredom begin to creep in, grabbing onto the mouse and clicking around instinctively. He wondered if the computer in his dream would still have the stuff in the real world.

“What are you doing? Shouldn't you be finishing your game?” A voice rang out behind him,

A hand reached from behind and gently placed on his shoulder. Their form shimmered and winked like a flame, a beautiful golden light and warmth emanating from it. As Grian turned, he could see the creature: A cartoonish looking figure with simplistic eyes and multiple pairs of wings, mirroring him. Its hair was longer than Grian’s, it seemed to resemble.. A sun? A lion? Grian couldn't quite tell, but either way he considered it a very feminine haircut. He couldn't place exactly why it made him feel so uncomfortable.

“What was it called again… Third life?” The creature mused, trying to get a reaction out of the bird.

“You know very well that you’re the reason I can't anymore.” The avian simply put, now clicking whatever he could. Anything to just ignore him. His eyebrows twitched. It was just another nasty reminder of his past mistakes. If only Grian could forget him too.

“Oh Silly, you know you came to us first, right? Besides, there's no difference between you and I.” The figure hummed. There was some truth to its comment, though Grian would never admit it. Sure this being looked and sounded like him—in his humble opinion the two were nothing alike.

Grian knew that when he accepted a deal with the watchers he would change, he would be irreparable. He never expected he would have been split, nor considered what that would have meant for him. Maybe he was too desperate to care. He remembered how it felt as his psyche slowly peeled in two. Grian’s consciousness and his ambition. Him, and Midas.

“And I keep telling you to shut up. Looks like neither of us are going to listen.” The blonde began to grimace. It was rare nowadays that Midas would visit—though there was a time where the two of them were close—that time was long gone now, a distant memory for the two. “Why are you even here?” He glanced over at his warped self, a bit of disdain in his voice.

“Can I not stop by and visit my good ol’ friend?” The angel began to chuckle a bit, placing its hands on Grian’s shoulders, leaning a bit closer. As the creature moved, sparks of dust flaked off of him, shimmering slightly in the light. The avian returned an unamused look. “Ah, but I guess you’re not going to take that excuse, are you..?” Midas began to slink away, “In all honesty, I just wanted to be a bit closer to the show.” What? What on earth did he mean by that? Grian tried to open his mouth to speak—his consciousness was slipping.

“Are you ready for it too, Grian?” Its words echoed. Before he could react, Grian felt himself slowly begin to sink into the floor, the darkness enveloping him. He heard his name morph and change till a familiar voice began to speak to him.

“Grian..? Grian, get up! Are you ok…? Did you decide to take a lil’ nap?” The words echoed in his head for a moment, trying to place exactly where he had heard that voice before.

“Scar..?” A small groan escaped the avian's lips as he began to sit up. A small yelp was heard from the other, making Grian jolt awake.

“WOAH! You look,” Scar’s words began to falter, hesitating as he got an annoyed look in return. Grian’s hair was licked in an awkward way, making it fall over his eyes. His eye-bags suggested he was possibly sleep deprived.

“Fine! You look great actually! Heh… Did you uh.. Fall asleep here?” There was a hint of concern in the Vex’s cadence as he gave an awkward smile. Grian was notorious for coming over to Scar’s base late at night, helping with small chores and whatever else he could. The Vex of course wouldn't complain—though, in the back of his mind, it felt as if Grian was running from something. Whatever it was, Scar would gladly be that place of refuge.

Once or twice Scar had brought up the fact that Grian was up later than usual. He would get a quick “I'm fine!” in response, usually followed by “What about you though?” Then quickly scatter across the base to help feed animals. Scar wouldn't push it, he was glad at least Grian felt safe enough to go to him.

Though he thought it was a bit peculiar that he found Grian like this. Grian tended to be a stickler for his appearance. Not that he was a perfectionist—it felt more as though he had an appearance to uphold. Scar on the other hand never cared for such things.

“I guess so..” The avian took a moment to bear his surroundings—putting the puzzle pieces together. He must have fallen asleep while looking for Scar. “I was trying to wait and see if you knew where Mumbo was..” Grian covered his mouth, letting out a soft yawn,

“I haven't seen him in a while.” It wasn't uncommon for Mumbo to disappear on his own for a bit, he was pretty independent. Although he would have to go over to his base to check if the mustached man returned. It's been a few days, hasn't it?

“You haven't? Well, last time I saw him he was at his base.” The Vex curled his forefinger on his chin. When was the last time he visited?

“I think he said something about not feeling well..?” His words slowly trailed off, a thought popping into his head, “Hey! Why don't you give Mumbo a visit?”

Wasn’t half bad an idea, Grian shrugged. “I guess I haven’t really seen him in a while..” He began to stand up, dusting himself off slightly. He’s usually a bit more discreet about staying up late to avoid sleep, he couldn't help but feel a bit sheepish. Grian prepared to take off, yet froze as the other grabbed onto his shoulder.

Scar’s voice softened, “Take it easy, ok?”

Mumbo practically began to skip into the room, Grian trailing behind him. “Alright Grian, let's get to work!” A smile spread across his face.

The avian nodded, and began to read the list—Mumbo grabbing ingredients as he spoke. As Grian began to read the book out loud, he started to hesitate; He knew the word he was reading, it was plain as day—‘Blood orange’ couldn't be anything else—yet, he falters. He couldn't help but think about the night prior, his nightmares faintly flashing in his mind.

He can't stand here and let Mumbo ruin his life. He just can't.

He messily thumbed through the pages for the moment. Silence filled the room as he contemplated, then begrudgingly began to speak. He swallowed. “An orange. The last item is an orange.” He simply put, trying his best to sound convincing.

“An orange?” Mumbo echoed back. The other ingredients made sense to him; Salt for amplification, cinnamon for success, Roses for healing.. Not that he knew much about witchcraft of course. That was more of Gem’s thing.

“I mean, that's what it says, Mumbo, I'm just reading from the book.” The blonde shook the book at him, making the other smile nervously.

Maybe he should just be quiet and listen to Grian? He's the only one that can read the book after all.

“Fair enough!” The mustached man lets out a soft chuckle.

With baited breath, Mumbo began to look through his chests. Oranges weren't too common since they tended to grow in colder climates. He usually bought them off villagers that were traveling through. Not that it was impossible to cultivate it here, Mumbo just wasn't as familiar with fruit farming compared to the other Hermits. His hand shuffled for a moment, leaning his arm deep into the chest until finally grabbing something. He gasps, holding it up in the air for Grian to see.

“BEHOLD! My last orange!” His voice boomed through the room. The avian couldn't help but crack a smile, then fell into a giggle. “What? It's the last of the season! Very proud of it." Mumbo walked over, keeping it above his head as if holding a delicacy.

“Well, I'm glad you’re taking this seriously.” The bird mused, watching as Mumbo placed down his items onto the table. Stretching out his arms, he cracked his fingers in preparation.

“Of course I am! Never been more serious in my life.” He began to move in a methodical motion, his hands swiftly working.

First, he began by grinding the herbs with a mortar and pestle. He twisted and pressed them into a fine powder, clinking the pestle on the side to get the excess off. Next, he moved onto slicing the oranges into quarters, squeezing it into the wineglass. Finally, with the blade in his hand, he paused.

Slowly, he began to inch it closer to his hand, pressing the blade against it. Grian eyes widened, tensing and turning his body away, desperately looking at anything else in the room.

A sharp hiss escaped Mumbo’s teeth. Facing his palm into the glass, his blood trickled from his inflicted wound into it. To his surprise it dripped into the mixture, pooling into a beautiful gold. His eyes lit up in wonder. As quickly as the gold hue appeared it faded away, steam slowly bubbling from the drink.

“Augh—you could have at least given me a warning!” Grian scolded, still facing away. The mustached man winced, letting out a quiet ‘sorry’ as he began to wrap his hand in bandages. He usually wasn’t disturbed, but the sight of blood made him woozy. A whimper escaped his lips. He would just have to simply tough it out.

“So.. it’s done?” Grian glanced over at the potion. He couldn't lie, it looked pretty impressive. He leaned over the table to get a better look, the potions bright crimson color now settling into a maroon.

“I suppose all that's left to do is… Drink it?” Mumbo placed the glass between his middle and ring finger, swirling the liquid inside. His gaze fixated on the drink. After all this work, he's hesitating?

Mumbo knew what needed to be done, there was no doubt in his mind, Yet his grip continued to tighten around the glass, a tinge of anxiety in his chest. What if this doesn’t work? What would he do then? His view trailed back to Grian, trying to ground himself.

“Well?” The blonde watched expectantly, Mumbo quickly snapping his focus back to the potion. He begins to sweat.

He's right. There's nothing else to do but find out. Mumbo took a sharp inhale.

“I’m getting to it! I'm getting to it.” His voice trailed into a sigh. Slowly but surely, he raised the glass up to his lips, but not without giving a quick toast to the other.

“I couldn’t have done this without you, Grian.” Mumbo grinned. The other tried to return the gesture, but underneath there was a shift in his expression. Mumbo couldn't quite place it. Was it sadness? No, surely it was worry. He couldn't help but agree with the bird. He was worried too. Despite this, he knew this drink would be the solution. Just drink it and get it over with—simple enough.

Slowly, he began to drink the mixture, the liquid was thick and gritty. The texture quickly made the man grimace. He somehow managed to swallow, shivering. He quickly shook his head to get rid of the flavor.

“Eugh—! Bleh—YEP! That’s rank.” He groaned, placing the glass down.

Thankfully, he was able to drink it. Despite his accomplishment, silence began to fill the room. Grian’s eyes darted—Looking from the wineglass to the other. The taller man knew exactly what he was thinking, he was thinking it too. He didn't feel any different. Maybe he accidentally read an ingredient wrong? No matter what, he shouldn't let Grian worry about it. Mumbo would simply research it on his own.

With furrowed brows he began to smile. Despite being worried, he decided he should enjoy his time with his friend.

“Want some?” He offered the glass over to Grian, smirking as he gagged in response. “Fair enough!” Laughter filled the air as the two moved on to other activities. The two reminisced, passing along stories. They listened to some of Mumbo's old records, and poured a few drinks into fresh wine glasses. Tonight—even if it was just for this night—the two felt like themselves again.

Tada! Heres Chapter two. I hope it doesnt seem too short! I promise this chapter is a set up for something bigger. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me!! Quick shout out to stroepwafels on TikTok for COSPLAYING MIDAS MUMBO?!?! HELLOOO?? literally had to do a few laps around my house!! lolol.