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sinfulwrites · 1 year

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Halloween Festivities

Happy Halloween, everyone! I rise from the crypt to bring cute little Halloween themed drabbles. I hope you enjoy!

Costumes:

Bubba Sawyer

Your expectations were admittedly low when October came around this year. You were sure you would have to forgo celebration in the Sawyer home; did they even celebrate the holiday?

In a way, the answer was no. Sure, the bones littering the home as decor could pass as Halloween decorations, but there were no pumpkins or bats to be found in the home. No candy, no movies, not even any pie despite Drayton’s constant ramblings of a so-called “award winning” pumpkin pie. Then again, everything Drayton said had to be taken with a grain of salt.

One tradition seemed to reign supreme in the Sawyer home, however. Costumes.

Waking up that morning you were greeted with the shocking sight of Drayton in a chef’s outfit. Roughly sewn together, and albeit missing the big hat, but you could tell what he was going for. Chop Top was sporting a new wig with a tie dye shirt and headband. Most likely taken by some unfortunate trespassers. Your lover, Bubba, was sporting a brand new mask he had made the night prior; one with black lipstick and an attempt at winged eyeliner on the eyeless lids, with some purple eye shadow to bring it all together. He was wearing a long black shawl over his nicest dress pants with the broom in his hands wherever he went. He was a beautiful witch, in your eyes.

It was just you who was lacking a costume, though you had an idea quickly brewed into your mind. With some quick improvising, you were eagerly waddling over to your lover in the kitchen, one of his masks on your face with his chainsaw in your arms and one of his aprons on. You had underestimated the strength needed to hold it, but you somehow didn’t drop it.

“Look baby, I’m you!”

Bubba let out an excited squeal when he saw you, holding your cheeks over the mask and taking in your quickly thrown together costume. His apron was like a dress on you! He thought it was adorable.

Just… Put the chainsaw down. He doesn’t want you getting hurt.

Jesse Cromeans

Extravagant holiday parties were the new norm after getting together with Jesse. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, so you never stayed long, but they were quite enjoyable for the time you did go. Besides, the after parties he always had waiting for you in bed were always more enjoyable.

Halloween had Jesse showing a rare level of excitement. The man loved to dress up in costumes, one could argue his whole aesthetic was exactly that. He will gladly take a day of wearing a mask without getting weird looks for it. This year he got a custom ram skull mask made, painted in a black chrome with a red pentagram painted on along with a luxurious robe he wore over his classic dress shirt and pants, lined with various medallions and gems to go along with his theme of some kind of cult leader. Jesse was rather proud of it, and he looked incredible in it.

You were rather proud of your own costume too. You kept it a surprise from Jesse, so you were rather giddy to approach him at the front door in a pair of his own dress shirt and pants, in your size of course, with one of his chrome skull masks stuck to your face with the medical adhesive he used to put the mask on his own face. You had his briefcase in your gloved hands too, though you left it empty. Admittedly, you had no idea what he kept in the thing, it was always empty when you saw it in the closet.

His expression was robbed from you by his mask, but you saw his shoulders shake in a chuckle at the sight of you. You puffed your chest out with pride and placed your hands on your hips so he could take in the sight, as well as teasingly mock his own attitude. If you’re gonna look the part, you’d better act it as well!

[Cute.] Was the message he flashed to you on his phone, and you grinned behind the mask.

“Thanks. Shall we go?”

Jesse nodded, and held the door open for you before the two of you left his pent house and made way to the garage to get his car.

“By the way… Can you even see in that thing?”

[Kind of.]

“So… How are you gonna drive?”

Jesse had no response to that, he simply held the garage door open for you. He did shrug his shoulders after a while, though. Wonderful…

Movies:

Bo Sinclair

There were no trick or treaters around in Ambrose to entertain this time of year. While you could have driven to town for some festivities, you instead decided to indulge the Sinclair tradition of watching scary movies this time of year. Each of you got to pick a movie to watch; Lester chose Dawn of the Dead, Vincent chose The Exorcist, Bo chose The Shining, and you had picked Scream. The urge to choose Halloween was strong, though.

It would be a marathon, starting at 9pm and only finishing once everyone’s movies were watched. The third bowl of popcorn was being made around 1 am when The Shining was inserted into the old DVD player. The exhaustion was beginning to set in on you, Lester had already fallen asleep in the middle of Vincent’s movie in the recliner. Vincent himself put the next movie in, but was tapping out now.

“I’m tired. Going to sleep.” Vincent signed to you on his way to the basement.

“Goodnight.” You responded through a yawn.

The infamous shot of Jack Torrence peeking through the hole in the door stared you down for a couple minutes before Bo sat himself next to you, placing the bowl of popcorn in your lap. Bo took a glance around the room before chuckling to himself and wrapping an arm around you.

“Guess it’s just us.” He said before shrugging. “I ain’t surprised. I’m always the last man standing for these movie nights.”

You snuggled right into Bo’s side, wrapping an arm around his stomach while chuckling to yourself. Bo hit the start button for the movie, dropping the remote on the coffee table before snatching some popcorn.

“Not this year, I’m still here.”

“Sure, darlin. You look ready to pass out any minute.”

Your attempt at a fake gasp was interrupted by a yawn.

“What? No, I’m fine…” Yet another yawn slipped past your lips.

Bo rubbed your arm as he just shook his head and focused on the movie. Even when tired though, you weren’t going to let him doubt you.

“I am fine.” You reaffirmed. “Besides, I wanna watch Scream. I’m not going to sleep.”

“Mhm. Sure, darlin.”

Your stubbornness was prevalent, but the exhaustion was quickly overtaking you. It wasn’t long after the title card of the film before Bo heard soft snores under his arm. The man simply smiled down at you and stroked your cheek with his knuckle before placing a kiss on your head.

Bo turned back to his film, deciding to finish his marathon before taking you to bed.

Asa Emory

“Happy Halloween, bye bye now!” You finally shut the door on the latest batch of trick or treaters rolling through the neighborhood with a heavy sigh, the candy bowl in your hand gliding out of your grip and onto the table placed by the front door. The scent of an apple pie wafted through the antique cladded home, but you felt you didn’t have a moment to even enjoy it without having to get up and answer the door once again. Your feet dragged to the kitchen where Asa was, slicing into the finally cooled pie he had made for tonight.

“I’m sick of answering the door. I think I’m just going to put the bowl on the porch.” You planted yourself at the dining table, your head laying on the wood once your butt was planted.

“You told me not to do that because someone will take the entire bowl.” Asa pointed out while cutting into the pie.

You sighed. “I know, and it’s true. I’m just complaining.”

The pie was finally cut and plated, and your eyes were finally able to behold it when Asa slid it in front of your face. He pet your head as it was laid on his table while shaking his head at your exhaustion.

“Just put the bowl outside. We’ll cut the lights and watch a movie.”

The sight of the pie made it hard to continue refusing the easy method and give in to his suggestion.

“Can you make a take one sign for me?”

“No.” Asa answered before taking a slice of his own pie. “But I’ll put on a movie.”

You groaned to yourself, but willed yourself up after taking a bite of the delicious pie slid in front of you.

With your candy bowl and sign placed on the porch atop of Asa’s antique chair, you came back inside and cut the lights in the house. The only light illuminating the home was the TV beginning to play a movie. You came into the living room with your pie and sat beside Asa to watch the movie with him. The sound of whistling filled the room following the opening credits of the film, though it wasn’t an opening you were familiar with.

“What are we watching?” You asked.

“Hostel.”

You’d never seen this film, but you had heard some people talk about it before in the past.

“Isn’t this just a gore porn movie?”

Asa shrugged his shoulders while eating a piece of his pie. “You’re not gonna wuss out because of some gore, are you?”

“N-No. I like gorey movies.”

“Mhm.”

The movie was rather misleading at first, and you were about to write it off as a shameless boobfest, but when the plot really took off you realized where the movie had gotten its reputation. The gore had increasingly intensified until you were finally jumping and hiding into Asa’s arm. While he didn’t comfort you, he let you hide into his bicep as he watched his movie with a stone cold expression.

You could have sworn you heard him chuckle, though.

Pumpkin Carving:

Michael Myers (2018)

Halloween was always something to be feared in Haddonfield. With each year that passed, no one was certain if the Boogeyman would return and kill again. You were one of these people once. Your parents would scare you with stories of the Boogeyman to keep you in line. As a child, you were terrified of that story. Now as an adult, your parents would have a heart attack if they knew who you let into your more intimate life.

The spooky holiday wasn’t as scary as it once was with the evil on your side; and only your side. The sad part of Halloween with Michael was the lonely night. He was gone for the entire night most years, and sometimes he is gone for an extra day or two after Halloween. Michael was around during the day, though, and you took advantage of it any way you could with your forbidden lover. This year, you chose to carve a pumpkin.

Michael was very intrigued by the pumpkin you brought home with you that morning. It was pleasantly round, and the perfect size for a big pattern. It also had a curly stem.

Michael took the pumpkin from your hands, letting you show him the carving tools you had stashed under your arm.

“Want to carve a pumpkin with me?”

The white mask moved briefly in a nod.

A simple, traditional pumpkin design was chosen by the two of you, and Michael was already getting to work on the pumpkin. Instead of using the carving tools, Michael instead used your kitchen knife to begin cutting the hole around the stem for you. You peeled the lid off, and Michael immediately put his hand in the pumpkin to begin pulling the seeds and guts out. You took turns with him to gut the pumpkin until it was hollowed out for the pattern. You used the pick to add the pattern, and Michael used his knife to cut out the triangles and smile onto the pumpkin. The nose had an additional line on it, resembling a knife. You were sure it was on purpose.

A tea candle was placed into the pumpkin before it was put on your porch, to be lit once nightfall hit. Michael accompanied you on the porch, watching you angle it how you wished with a tilted head. His head straightened out when you stood back up and began shuffling closer to him.

“Will you say bye before you leave?” You asked Michael.

He didn’t answer you, but you didn’t expect an answer. You just smiled to yourself and laid your head on his shoulder.

“... Just be careful, okay?” You whispered into his shoulder. “I don’t want to see you all beat up again…”

Your request was met with even more silence, but you did feel a stiff arm wrap around you and pat your back. That simple gesture was worth more than any words, especially coming from Michael. It was enough to make you teary eyed.

Vincent Sinclair

“Hey, will you remind Vincent to tell me what movie he picked?”

You looked up from the bat decorations you were planning on hanging in the kitchen when Bo stepped in and made his request.

“Oh sure. Ain’t busy or anything.”

“Great. Thanks.”

You internally sighed. Even on Halloween, Bo was a dick. A loveable dick, but a dick nonetheless.

Your paper bats were placed on the pool table before you made your way to the late Victor Sinclair’s office to make your way down the trapdoor to Vincent’s workshop. His various wax molds sculpted on the walls all fit the Halloween spirit in your mind, even if it wasn’t deliberate. Vincent’s art always tipped into the creepy, and you personally enjoyed how it all looked. He had a very creative mind, with the artist talent to execute it flawlessly. Even if he had his own doubts and insecurity about it.

You were excited to see your partner hunched over his work desk in his stool with a pumpkin. A closer look of the pumpkin made you realize he wasn’t carving a pumpkin; he was molding a pumpkin made of wax. There was a drawing beside him, showing a pumpkin with bulging teeth and realistic eyes that the wax made much easier to create. Though you were confident Vincent could pull it off with a real pumpkin as well.

“This is amazing, Vince.” You said to him.

Vincent jumped, nearly dropping his wax pumpkin and making you jump as well.

“S-Sorry, sorry! I thought you heard me.”

Vincent made sure his pumpkin was alright before he got out of his stool so he could stand by you and hold your hands. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his back and stuffing your face into his chest. His soft hands ran along your head and down your back before returning the embrace.

“Can I watch you make your pumpkin?” You asked into Vincent’s chest.

Gently pulling you off his chest, Vincent signed to you. “It will take a long time.”

You smiled at that. “So? That’s the opposite of a problem.”

Even this long into a relationship, Vincent was still flustered by your vocalizations of love. He could only nod in response before giving you a quick peck on the head over his mask. Vincent pulled away to bring his second stool over for you to sit on. You gladly took a seat next to him, and once he was settled in his seat, you placed a kiss on his wax cheek.

You couldn’t see it, but his face had erupted in red under the wax mask.

Eating Candy:

Jason Voorhees

Halloween was never a thing for Jason. His mother never got to take him trick or treating before the tragedy happened. The most he ever experienced of the holiday was random candies his mother would bring him this time of the year. That was years ago, though, and the holiday had long passed Jason’s mind. The concept of days and months have passed as well, he never knew what day it was, he didn’t have to.

You knew what day it was, though, and you wanted to celebrate it with Jason. He seemed indifferent, though. Not even a “Happy Halloween.” You figured he just didn’t celebrate it; understandably. What could you even do with him out here? Maybe he would like carving a pumpkin, but it was too last minute to get a pumpkin.

Instead, the answer lay in the small bag of candy you had in the backpack you had when you made a sudden permanent residence in Crystal Lake. There were only a handful of hard candies left, but it was plenty to share with Jason, who was wiping his machete clean after a hunt of a deer earlier that morning.

“Hey Jason?”

Your large lover turned around to face you, the excitement to see you clear in his body language after he stuck his machete in the dirt and came over to you, his large hands cupping your cheeks and stroking them with his thumbs. A smile melted onto your lips, but you couldn’t let yourself melt into it since you had something to give him. Gently peeling one of his hands off, you place some of the candies into his hand. Jason eyed them curiously before tilting his head at you. You just smiled at him while unwrapping a candy for you to have.

“Happy Halloween, Jason.”

Jason blinked at you for a moment before looking back at the candies. The memories of his mother came flooding back after forgetting them all these years, and he couldn’t stop the tears from pricking at his eyes before he unwrapped a candy and stuck it under his mask to eat.

“Happy Halloween.” Jason signed to you, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug to hide his tears from you.

But you knew. You simply rubbed his back and kissed his arm as you both sucked on the sugary sweets.

#slasher x reader #michael myers x reader #jason vorhees x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #asa emory x reader #hope you all had a good halloween!#I had a great time walking around scaring kids in my Michael costume and watching Halloween with my gf #also I've recently watched Hostel and I loved it #satisfies the gore hound in me

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captainschaos · 6 months

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dreaded grin, cold light

wrote this fic for @k-asternix for the @mcyt-halloween gift exchange!! it was a little out of my comfort zone since I really only watch mumbo/scar/grian through life series, but I decided to go for it anyway and had a blast :] a little platonic soulmate action with some spooks on the side, hope you enjoy!

(also worth noting, this will likely be part 1 of 2 for your gift!! unofficially since I don't think it will be done by tomorrow, but I do have a second piece in the works and can tag you when I post that too ^_^)

word count: 3851 This will likely be posted to ao3 too! I'm new over there tho so wanna make sure I get all the parts right before I put it up, will edit to link that here when I do ---/---/---

The atmosphere of the Deep Frost Citadel has always made Mumbo feel at least a little on edge. Sure, he often felt such glee here too, laughing with the other hermits outside the dungeon door, smiling and barely containing their excitement as they all wait for their turn to run the game, but there’s also… an unease. It is not hidden that the Citadel is a hostile place, with its spines and glaring eyes abounding in the crevices of its stonework walls, but it’s deeper. Maybe it’s just the chill that always makes it a bit uncomfortable to sit in one place for too long inside it. Maybe it’s the groans that come from deep in the place’s belly where the dungeon churns with hunger. But no matter how much he loves Decked Out, and how often he will always return to this place with joy, Mumbo just can’t seem to shake the underlying twist at the pinprick in the center of his belly that something is not quite right here.

But still, it’s a place he loves, and he loves being with his friends here. So right now, he sits with Grian in their shared room, listening as Grian goes through his deck.

“I mean, I’ve just about got all the commons covered, so I get to get into the fun stuff now, y’know?”

“Mhm,” Mumbo hums in response, smiling down at his own small deck he’s shuffling through while he listens to Grian.

“I’m just not sure…” Grian sighs, though Mumbo can hear that it’s a playful kind of half-feigned irritation. “It’s nice to be able to choose, but now I have to make decisions, which-”

Grian’s words are cut off, and Mumbo glances up quickly as he hears the feathers of his wings rustle slightly. The harpy’s wings and shoulders are tensed for only a fraction of a moment as Mumbo looks at him, but he quickly shakes it out and picks up another of his cards.

“Are, uh- you alright, Grian?”

“Oh, yeah.” He shoots Mumbo a reassuring grin. “Scar just tripped over a berry bush I think. He’s running the dungeon right now.”

“Oh, uhm… Right.”

Of course. Ever since Double Life, Scar and Grian have had a soullink which lets them feel the other’s pain. There had been signs they were soulmates for a while before that, but it was that iteration of the great death games that had cemented it in a way that was unignorable. Mumbo sometimes wishes he had been there, wonders who he might have been matched with, but it is what it is. He and Grian are soulmates too, even if they don’t share this.

Less than a minute passes before Grian hisses with a shallow gasp of pain again, and this time Mumbo catches the momentary glow of the pale, spiked halo that signs the action of his soullink. It’s silvery, like the vex magics that line Scar’s smile, but with a bronze undertone that complements Grian’s dusty-brown hair and feathering. It almost looks thorned. Certainly painful.

Even before Mumbo can say anything, Grian laughs about it. “Scar’s just fallen off something, the idiot. He’s not going to be able to take a hit from a ravager, I can tell you that much.”

“Sounds like Scar,” Mumbo says with a half a chuckle in response. But it’s hard to cover up the unease he’s feeling.

It’s always hard to watch though. Seeing Grian in pain, when there’s nothing to do about it… it makes Mumbo’s stomach twist. But there’s an element of love in it, and Grian always says it’s fine, not to worry, and always laughs and shakes his head affectionately after he winces. So as Scar continues his run through the depths of the dungeon, Mumbo watches and listens, biting his tongue, as Grian narrates each unfortunate twist of the vex’s journey. When Grian grabs his arm and announces Scar must have healed up, because that couldn’t have been anything but a ravager bite, Mumbo’s insides twist in knots. The Citadel feels colder than ever around him when Grian shakes out another berry prick, but there’s an affectionate smile that Mumbo just can’t quite understand. There’s an unsettling feeling of watching through a window that shouldn’t be there while Grian narrates with uncanny specificity as Scar trips and fights through the dungeon, a journey that should be known only to the stomach of Decked Out, but has wormed its way through the soullink to Grian and now squirms in Mumbo’s gut. He feels off. So when there’s a shudder, and Grian clutches his chest and his wings spread in automatic response, Mumbo can’t help but jump to his feet and go to his friend.

“Grian!”

“I’m fine!” As Mumbo reaches out for his soulmate, Grian’s hand comes up to block him through a flat-palmed gesture, and he shakes out his feathers. “You don’t need to worry, Mumbo, I’ve told you this! It’s all–”

“Well THAT was a nightmare!” Scar says with an enormous smile as saunters up to Grian and Mumbo’s cubby. “All the ravagers in all the wrong places, just awful. I do not recommend trying to get an artifact through there right now.”

“Seemed it, buddy!” Grian says jauntily. He looks at Mumbo with one last look, clearly trying to calm him, but it somehow just makes him feel more queasy when Grian goes back to talking to Scar like it’s all fine. “It was Willy who did you in at the end there, wasn’t it?”

Mumbo knows what just happened though. Scar barely had to feel the dying, the world snatching him up as soon as his soul cried out and shuffling him comfortably back to the bed to respawn. That’s part of how they all set up their respawns, it’s all designed to mitigate the pain. But Grian…

What did he feel?

Mumbo can’t help but feel sick at the thought of it.

But deeper down, in a more selfish part of him, he wonders if it’s the fact that he’s the only one who has no way to know that makes him feel sick to the stomach.

Maybe it’s just the Citadel getting to him.

Yeah. That must be it.

---/---/---

Scar hums to himself as he shuffles through a shulker box, pulling out a bundle of pumpkins to set out between himself and Grian.

“There we go! Where would you like them, buddy-ol-pal?”

“Pretty much everywhere!” the harpy announces giddily. He’s already got rolls of black and orange and green wool streamers wrapped around his arms as he looks up at the entrance of his base with both hands proudly on his hips. The Halloween colors are blooming all around Grian’s base, and with Scar and Mumbo’s help, they’re just coming to pop more and more.

“You got it!” Scar hefts up a pumpkin under each arm, tutting as the enchantment on his leg braces fizzes under the weight. Not his fault he’s so strong! He taps his foot to realign the runes, and then whistles as he picks a nice spot by the door for these two lovely golden gourds.

“Hm… do you think that should go a bit higher, Scar?” Grian asks.

“What should?” Scar responds as he straightens up and brushes the pumpkin-dirt off his hands. He looks over to Grian, then follows the line of where he’s pointing. The harpy’s gesture leads up to where Mumbo stands up in the ring surrounding Grian’s nether portal. A bit precarious, but his elytra is folded snugly against his back, ready to catch him should he fall, and he keeps at least one lanky arm clasped to the stone ring around him at all times. More specifically, Grian is pointing to the enormous fake bat the mustached changeling is holding up, showing where he plans to hang it from the top of the portal. “Oh. Hm hm… probably just a bit! Don’t want it to hit your head if you come rocketing out of there with a piglin on your tail, you know.”

“Good point. Alright–”

And with that, Grian locks eyes with Mumbo across the distance, and there’s a glow. Soft and warm, almost violent in hue with the depth of the shade, a red light seems to pool in Grian’s mouth as he looks up at Mumbo, lips parted slightly. The changeling in turn looks back, and even from this far away Scar can see the glow that shows the message has been received, and sure enough he shifts a bit so that he can raise the decoration higher before securing it with string. Scar turns to see Grian blink a few times, and then he gets back to his own work throwing streamers over everything in reach, smiling softly to himself.

Scar knows, there’s no need to be jealous. Grian and Mumbo have their soulmate bond, and Scar has his own with the harpy, but… he still wonders. He can’t help it, shoving words in different spots to create every configuration of what might pass between them that he can’t hear, through their sharing of thoughts. It is nice that at least there’s the glowing sign when it happens, so he’s not completely left out of the loop, but there’s still… there’s just still some unshakeable feeling about it. Something uneasy. Something that makes the ground feel unstable under Scar, like he doesn’t quite know where to step without falling. It’s silly, he knows. But knowing what he doesn’t know doesn’t seem to help much.

But nevermind all that! He has pumpkins to throw around after all, and he delights in putting them in as many ledges and nooks as he can reach without Grian being able to. Realistically, the harpy has the wings to reach any of it, but that doesn’t stop Scar from laughing as he has to hop to readjust one of the jack-o-lanterns Scar’s placed a bit askew. But like punctuation throughout this, there are the moments where Grian looks over Scar’s shoulder, and there’s a momentary rush of adrenaline as he wonders if there’s a creeper behind him, and then he sees the glow in Grian’s mouth.

It casts shadows that seem to accentuate every sharp edge to the harpy’s teeth.

“Mumbo’s just about done,” Grian says after one of these moments. “You think we’ve done our work here?”

“Oh, for sure!” Scar announces, putting his hands on his hips as he looks over their handiwork. “Looking mighty spooky here, friend. A nice spread of tricks and treats.”

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here and maybe grab a bite to eat then, huh? All this work has certainly got my appetite up.”

Scar keeps smiling, but as Grian talks, he can’t seem to look anywhere but at his teeth. There’s a pinch in his stomach.

“Sounds good.”

---/---/---

Mumbo sits alone in his vault, at a desk he tends to keep reserved for redstone planning. There are sketches laid out in front of him, pages and pages of blueprints that are more like redprints with the lines of redstone scrawled across them, but none of them are right. His head is in his hands, his changeling claws just barely pressing into his scalp as more of a grounding pressure than anything, but there is something bothering him.

And the maddening thing is, he doesn’t know what.

It’s an aching, something that he keeps thinking is hunger, but he’s been eating. Golden carrots at first, he always keeps a bundle of them at his desk for this purpose, but they didn’t help. He snapped his teeth through piece after piece of the clicking-crunching things, the sound of them breaking rattling like brittle bones, but they seemed to glide right past the sensation rolling in his gut. After biting through a handful of them, he thought maybe he was just having a different craving, so he went to find some steak, but that did little besides give a new ripping instead of the crunching. He even tried golden apples as his desperation grew, but he almost felt he was being taunted. He was hungry, and yet eating did nothing to help him.

And the churning in his stomach is only growing.

---

Scar sits in one of his many workshops hidden throughout the back areas of Scarland, looking over the plans for the latest and greatest ride to come. Or at least, he’s trying to. At the moment he’s holding his head in his hands, palms pressing into his forehead, the heels of his hands smothering his eyes as he tries to rub away the weight that seems to have settled on his eyelashes. He can hardly even look at his plans, much less process them, as his vexish wings flicker behind him in a visual representation of his struggle to just keep himself upright, as something tugs at him.

But he has no idea what.

He’s trying to keep on his smile, despite the fact that there’s no one in the room, just to keep himself sane. It’s solidly into the evening hours on the server, sure, but he’s had plenty of rest. And yet there’s an aching when he peels his eyes open, and it feels like folds of weight have been hung over him to pull him, smother him, to the earth. Every bone in his body feels like a support beam about to snap, and he would swear his spine creaks as he tries to straighten up. It seems like fatigue, but he knows he should be fine. He makes sure he rests, he knows he should be fine, and besides, he even tried sleeping. He laid down in one of the spots he has set up in case of occasions like this, closed his eyes, and… nothing. The silence was maddening. There was nothing to disturb him, and yet, no sleep came. So now he sits here, listening to nothing, looking at nothing, and yet he remains. He feels chained to the ground itself, every movement is a dragging, and yet his mind remains, stagnant and stale in this state.

And the weight around his neck is only growing.

---

Mumbo is trying to focus. He is desperately trying to focus. But it feels like something is trying to rip him in two, the way this strange, poltergeist of a hunger is clawing at him.

Still, nothing is working. Mumbo’s tried potions now, splashing them and drinking, hoping for something to put even just a dent in the hunger tearing at his insides. It did nothing for the aching in his gut, the tightness in the back of his throat, like a hand clenched around his neck. He leans now against the door of his vault, trying to use the coolness of the metal to drag his mind away from it, but there’s no thinking about anything but the hunger. It’s grating at his mind. Panic is starting to form a new core to the grinding in the pit of his stomach. A fear, a wondering- what if this never leaves? What if there’s no answer, what if this is it? He has no idea what’s caused it, so what if there’s no way to end it? There’s a hopelessness beginning to emerge, like an animal crawling out of a cave. He doesn’t want it to be there. But even worse, he’s scared there’s no defeating it.

His gut drops if he thinks too much about it.

---

Scar wants to focus. He really, truly wants to focus. But it’s just impossible, it’s impossible! He’s absolutely positive now that there’s nothing he can do about it.

Nothing has worked. Scar’s flipped on every beacon in the area now, hoping their powers might do something to rejuvenate him, but it did nothing. It had no effect on the horrid grip around his temples, the feeling dragging him toward the floor. His limbs feel like lead, and he now sits in his wheelchair, just trying to ignore the feeling of weight and dulled senses pulling at him. A kind of claustrophobic desperation is welling up at the center of it all. The dread of not knowing how this will end, the panic of having no idea what’s happening to him, the cause of this weariness. He should know how to fix this. He should be able to fix this. But still…

His chest tightens if he thinks too much about it.

---

There has to be a solution. There has to be.

The changeling just wants to fix this. He just wants to know what’s wrong with him. He just wants to know what this is, haunting the space just under his ribcage.

It’s consuming him. He hardly even realizes when the hunt carries him out into the night.

---

There has to be a solution. There has to be.

The vex just wants to end this. He wants to know what’s happening to him. He just wants to know what this is, consuming the space just behind his eyes.

It’s haunting him. He hardly even realizes when the need takes him out into the night.

---

Two figures tumble into opposite sides of an alleyway. Teeth bared, stomachs snarling and snatching, skulls lolling toward the ground, they lock eyes with one another. And in their horrid torments, enveloped in the cold night, something snaps in place.

---/---/---

Grian happily carries a shulker box full of building materials as he walks down the path toward the shopping district. He knows he could fly, it’d be much faster, but it’s such a nice day! He wanted to enjoy it.

“G!” a voice calls, and he stops and spins to try and find it. There are no buildings around this part of the path, but he quickly spots two figures not too far off the road, waving to him. He jogs over, and finds Mumbo and Scar laying on a blanket in the grass, side by side in the laziest of friendly ways.

“Hello, you two! Enjoying the beautiful day, are we?”

“Certainly better than last night was,” Mumbo says with a lighthearted but slightly concerning chuckle. Scar pipes up to help clarify, or at least attempt to, before Grian can say anything concerned though.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, it’s all fixed up now! And it did us more good than bad, didn’t it?”

Mumbo laughs again, this time with a bit more vigor. “Very, very true.”

“Wait- what happened? Everything’s alright?”

“Yeah, yeah! Here, we can show you,” Scar pipes up again. “Watch this.”

With that he rolls over a bit to look at Mumbo, who just smiles and keeps still. After a moment of Scar’s concentration, there’s a glow, and Grian looks down to Scar’s hand where the light seems to be cupped in his palm. Matching, Mumbo’s own palms seem to mirror the glow, and Grian would recognize that silverish light anywhere, though this particular iteration seems to have a very slight green undertone, copperish and almost mimicking sunbeams underwater.

“Soulmates?!”

“Soulmates!” Mumbo and Scar affirm, in sync, causing a ripple of giggling.

“Not sure exactly how recently it, y’know, popped up, but yep! And I can use it to tell you that… Mumbo needs to talk to you.”

Grian finally moves to sit, making a spot for himself between his two soulmate’s legs, but leaving the near-touch they have between their shoulders so they can all sit as together as possible. “So the link’s something need related?”

“Yeah, well,” Mumbo begins, somehow managing to twiddle his fingers even with his hands making a pillow under his head, “I think it might have been at least partially shaped by… what we were missing, from our soullinks with you. Not that you aren’t amazing!” Grian nods understandably, waiting for the explanation to finish. “It’s just- Scar and I were both seeing how you connected with the other, and it- it made something to be left out of, I guess? Or maybe just made it easier to notice what we were missing, I’m not sure it just-”

“We were missing the link to each other,” Scar finishes for Mumbo. A glow fades from his palm again, not as strong as when he was focusing on it, but a sign Mumbo may have been in need of a bit of silver-tongued rescuing. “I had the pain, he had the thoughts, and so we bridged the gap.”

“Thinking about each other’s pain,” Mumbo says with a grateful smile given to Scar. “That’s the way I’ve been thinking about it, at least.”

“So… how did you figure this out, exactly?” Grian asks.

“Oh, ah- well, Scar hadn’t eaten in far too long, and I thought I was getting ripped apart from the inside out!” Mumbo laughs, rolling so his elbow can jab into Scar’s shoulder.

“Hey! At least I take all the cat-naps a man could need, one of us needed some shut-eye so bad it was driving me up the wall!”

And at this, Grian laughs. He was asleep plenty early last night, and must have stayed asleep through any inkling of this event. But of course, these two managed to get supernaturally attuned in precisely the right way to bully each other about taking care of themselves. As much focus as Mumbo had on him, he knows Scar and Mumbo have their very own, very unique friendship. And he has no need to be jealous- he knows they love him in equally wonderful ways.

“Oh, you wonderful idiots! How’d you get that mess sorted out then?”

“I practically tackled Mumbo into bed of course!” Scar says with his hands thrown in the air.

“But not before I shoved about a stack of steak into your mouth!” Mumbo shoots back through giggles.

All three of them are laughing, and Grian pats a hand on each of his soulmates’ nearest knee. “Well, glad you seem in much better spirits now. Can I see the soullink work again?”

“Sure! Here, I’ll give it a go this time.” Mumbo turns to Scar and scrunches up his face comedically as their palms glow once more, and the two barely hold back giggles as their foreheads nearly press together. “Hmm, I think Scar’s hungry. For… Grian brainsss…!” he announces with a punctuating wiggle of his fingers for extra spooky effect.

“What! No no no, that’s your thing, Mr. I-Am-What-I-Eat!”

The group collapses into a fit of giggles, and Grian falls onto his chest between his soulmates, wrapping an arm around each in a wonderfully clumsy hug. Scar throws an arm up over Grian’s head to reach around to Mumbo, and the changeling in turn reaches across Grian to playfully swat at Scar’s other hand as he gestures wildly. They remain like that for a while, safe and comfortable in each other’s presence, smiling and talking all too loudly for reasonable interaction. But affection has no need to be reasonable, in the face of unreasonable obstacles, even if those obstacles have been thoroughly overcome. It’s the absurdity that will keep them running strong. It’s the laughter after the dark that will always bring them back to each other.

#grian #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #mcyt halloween #captain's words #this was super fun!!!! like I said out of my comfort zone a bit but I had a good time :D #I always loveeeeee some queerplatonic soulmates so I just had to do it #you also said you loved like hybrid headcanons and stuff so while I didn't get into it much I did include mine- all the hermits are fae !#of different sorts yknow I very briefly mentioned each of my hcs for this trio :]#you also said you like angst/hurt/comfort so I went for some of that hehe #all around just had fun with this n hope you enjoy !!!#and also jade thank you again for organizing this!!! it was super fun :DDD

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