#connor scribbles

[mumboyumbo]

“you're still here? it's over.”

he says nothing. just sits beside him on the rotting log. his hand rests hesitantly over his shoulder, touch just barely ghosting over.

“go home.”

he frowns.

“go.”

“i don't want to. i want to stay with you, tango. you're my— my soulmate, my rancher.” he breaks what felt like silence with a plead. maybe it'd be enough.

tango smiles. it's sad, doesn't reach his eyes. “it's over, jimmy. we aren't soulmates anymore.”

jimmy scoffs. he turns to face him, grabs both of his hands, and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist, right where the faded gray heart is. tango huffs a sigh but there's nothing malicious about it. never from tango when it's jimmy.

“you'll always be my soulmate, tango. even if the game is over, i ... i love you. you're my home.”

tango squeezes jimmy's hand. nothing else is said, because nothing else has to be said.

[boogeyblade]

Team rancher, "proud"

it was the end, jimmy thought, as a searing pain from nowhere lit every nerve in his body on fire, tearing a cut scream from a burning throat. he realizes only seconds later that the thought is irrational. he's died before, so many times, as his friends continue to remind him — but it never gets easier. maybe it's the death games that do it, the lasting memory of his final moments before permadying in increasingly pathetic ways.

this time, it's not a permadeath. it's a first death of three possible ones, because this time there's no randomly assigned number, you get what you get; what everyone gets. this time, it's not even his fault. not entirely, though maybe him being an omen of death had something to do with it.

this time, he's left laying at spawn, the feeling of a fresh scar crawling over his skin. things had gone black, and then not — he's met with the night sky, stars glittering where there aren't trees to cover them. he hears just a little bit away, the sound of desperate movement. he sits up, dazed from what felt like a creeper explosion — maybe it was tnt? no, not this early in the game. hopefully.

his hands meet grass as he pushes himself up to his feet, and the blades feels sharp. his nerves are fried, at least in his hands. he assumes that maybe whoever his soulmate is, held up their hands in front of their face to stop the damage. it didn't work, obviously. but there's something peculiar, a tingling sensation below his eyes, trailing down to his chin.

“hellooo?” he calls out, finding himself trembling a terrible thing, and a frown catches him when there's no response. at least not one he can hear, so he sets off. just circling spawn, really — and he gets a glimpse of what he assumes is light from a torch, but when he draws closer, it's not. it's.... tango, he thinks his name is. hunched over, breathing heavily, shaking. however, the thing that stands out the most, is the way tango's hair spikes up, ends ablaze, forming into a cluster of sparks and light, trailing off into smoke.

“hey— tango? you there?” he tries, stepping closer. a branch breaks under his shoes. tango snaps around, and jimmy catches sight of red eyes, furrowed brows, and sharp teeth.

“ji—jimmy?” he hiccups, sniffling. oh. oh, he's crying— and the tears are evaporating on his face. jimmy assumes that's where the tingling feeling is coming from. they can share pain, but something as small as this?

“yeah, hey, bud, you alright?” he comes closer, and tango tenses up.

“hhhhh. oh god. jimmy, im so— i didn't mean— it came out of nowhere! just dropped out in front of me, i barely had time to react —!”

“hey— dude, c'mon. i don't blame you. it's okay, you did your best.”

tango just ... stares at him a moment, head tilt, and jimmy thinks he looks a little bit like a cat. it's endearing, kind of, and jimmy feels blood rush to his face at the thought. ohhhh. that's an embarrassing thought to have right now, that this guy he's barely spoken to is— cute!

tango catches on, and he laughs a little bit. he's still tense, but the flames seem to be dying down a tad. “deep breath, jim.”

“aren't i supposed to be telling you to take a deep breath right now?” jimmy shoots back, and tango shrugs.

“ehhh, i dunno. doesn't matter. uh, for the record,” the tone shifts drastically, “i'm sorry. i didn't mean to get us killed.”

jimmy shakes his head but he doesn't voice the elephant in the— no, canary in the mine would be a little bit better of a phrase for this — instead; “dude, i don't blame you, you did what you could. im proud of you, i think.”

“—ya 'think'?”

jimmy's wings bunch up behind him, and he furrows his brow. “no, no, i think— i think that im proud to be soulbound to you!”

this catches tango off guard, and it makes him laugh. the tears are long forgotten now, and the flames have died down enough to be comfortable again, and they realize that they've spent so much time talking about this and not enough time getting their stuff back, so with a quick fist bump and a promise of not dying again, they seperate.

when they reunite again, and laugh together over their speculations about the future, jimmy thinks that— yeah, he is proud to be his soulmate.

[boogeyblade]

someone, mumbo realizes, has put mistletoe over the doorways of every shop, home and room in boatem.

it's not necessarily a problem. not yet, at least, because everyone else is busy doing their own things, and mumbo seldom sees other boatem-ers during the day, and even rarer does he encounter them in a store or a closed space. so realistically, he won't end up under mistletoe with anyone.

but there was a problem, regardless. mumbo wanted to end up under the mistletoe with someone. a specific person, actually, which made it even MORE of a problem and oh goodness— mumbo was, to put it lightly, in a bit of a pickle.

he had just collected his profits from harmless harvests and had decided to spend the day shopping. he needed to restock on rockets and black dye needed for some concrete anyway, so might as well get everything today. he figured he'd start at boatem, and visit iskall's for some more prismarine, and maybe even check out the new additions to the big eye crew's beachside town.

he was shuffling through the contents of a chest in iSOAR, picking up a few stacks of rockets that would hopefully last him the next few days — not that he absolutely needed rockets, with the state of the server nowadays, he could pretty much fly wherever from just the moon's gravity — and he tosses some diamonds in and turns to the door.

it opens, but not of mumbo's doing — and he realizes, with a flushed face, that grian was standing on the other side.

“ griaaaaaann.... ” he greets, eyes darting from his face to the mistletoe above the door, and he takes a step back, tugging nervously at the collar of his shirt.

grian blinks. an eyebrow raises and he glances up at the mistletoe, and goodness, mumbo can recognize the mischievous glint in his eyes. “ mumbo? why're you backing away? do i look that bad — ”

“ no! goodness no, grian, you look, uh, great, you look great. ” good save there, mumbo.

grian tilts his head and mumbo knows there's no getting out of this with his dignity intact.

“ then why, pray tell, have you gone all red? ”

if there ever was a time mumbo wished he wasn't family friendly, it would've been now, because maybe saying a swear word would've conveyed emotion enough.

“ i, uh, it's cold! it's cold, grian, that's all, come inside before you're— oh— ” he trails off, and feels his face growing hotter as grian tugs mumbo forward, so they're both under the door together. he can't get his eyes off of the mistletoe, not by choice, but because he didn't want to risk looking grian in the eye because oh goodness, he's panicking —

“ what's the matter, mumbo? ”

“ uh, haha, would you— look at that, above us, the um— mistletoe, we're under ... mistletoe. ”

grian visibly stifles a laugh. he raises a brow, feigning a look of shock and mumbo only knows it's faux because he knows grian. “ huh! would you look at that indeed. ” he rolls his eyes and mumbo is burning up from embarrassment when grian asks, “ are you going to do something about it? ”

mumbo's breath catches in his throat and he manages a gentle, “ if you want me to, ” and now he's looking grian in the eyes. grian stares back expectantly.

“ well, on with it. ”

so mumbo, in a moment of boldness which he's no clue how he mustered — brings a hand to the low of grian's back and pulls him close. grian huffs, his face reddening, whether from the cold or the closeness, mumbo isn't sure, and mumbo leans down and presses their lips together. it's a little clumsy at first, but they ease into a rythm and mumbo is positive that time has stopped for them and only them, because grian is wrapping his arms around mumbo's shoulders and it makes him shortcircuit.

when they pull away, it's slow, and mumbo watches in awe as grian's eyes flutter open, a dizzying smile on his face, and mumbo's sure this is the best day of his life, positively unaware that scar is standing behind them, looking awkwardly at them until —

“ ’scuse me, lovebirds. glad to see the mistletoe worked, but i need some rockets! ”

[boogeyblade]

what better time to plug my swagdoons fic if not with the revelation that reddoons visits tumblr sometimes?

anyway, read you and me, read the tags n all etc etc

[mumboyumbo]

do u think. keralis and bdubs found each other in the rubble. and held hands and prayed to whatever gods above that they'd make it out even tho they knew deep down they wouldn't . and keralis is bleeding out and bdubs is holding him, sobbing his eyes out

keralis reaching out and calling him bubbles, smiling thru it all, and right before they both take their final breaths . they wake up to find themselves in the ship ? and they're panicking and they see tango and they're screaming to be let out bcos it hasn't set in yet That it wasn't real ? bcos i think .

[boogeyblade]

etho and iskall have a message board. it's used mostly for practical things, gift exchanges and hastily scribbled notes to iskall, “sell tridents at your shop! 20 diamonds each!” accompanied by a few little goodies here and there.

they didn't see each other around the base very often. they were both busy with their own projects, building insane farms and redstone machines, building onto the landscape around the base — so they didn't always have time to hang around.

not that either of them minded so much that they HAD to change it, and there definitely wasn't a lack of trying, but .. iskall thought it'd be nice to get to talk face to face with their base mate more often! especially after that bold note they left for etho — a joke, that's it, a joke about giving etho head if he so ‘ needed ’ it — they expected SOME sort of ... response. maybe they wanted one. maybe they wanted to see if something would come from that, but! that wasn't the point of this.

no, the point of this endeavor was to leave a different kind of note. see, iskall had a great idea, the idea to write a poem or something to possibly express to etho their— their feelings. because, well, they sorta maybe had feelings for their base mate? and had virtually no idea how to deal with it, so when cubfan of all people mentioned using the IOU from cleo to get a poem written about his canyon, well... they thought they'd ask her.

and she redirected them to joe, saying it wasn't entirely her thing, that joe was actually the one to write it, and he was much more proficient in writing sappy things — maybe iskall blushed a little too bright when she said that, but! that has nothing to do with this. definitely not, and maybe they were also stalling, but that wasn't important either!

anyway, they asked joe and joe, being the kind person he was, coached iskall a little bit on writing one. it was short, very short, but they hoped it would work. joe was — joe was a good writer! they would've asked him to write one FOR iskall to give to etho but joe was very adamant that it had to come from the heart and iskall — didn't love etho, did they? — with virtually no clue on how to even start writing from an organ, begged joe to teach them.

so, that brought them here. with trembling hands as they set down a lectern from their inventory, and the poem — scribbled down in a book, onto the darned thing — their face felt so hot! what if etho saw it and it wasn't up to par? agh! nerve-wracking!

so they put down the poem and left before etho could come home and read it in FRONT of iskall, which would probably kiII them on the spot, so they spent the rest of his day working on maybe finally sorting out the villagers?

it was safe to assume that village sorting was mind numbingly boring, and that their mind had betrayed them something fierce so all they could think about WAS the poem. speaking of, the poem was just— it was stupid, so maybe they'd just remove it and—

oh. oh. it's gone, it's gone from the lecture and iskall's brain flips to overdrive. that's scary, right? etho— he read it! oh no, oh no oh no oh no oh no—

“ iskall? ”

they freeze. when did they get on the ground? turning, slightly, to look behind them at the source of the voice which was undeniably etho, and force a smile —

“ hallo, etho, ” they greet, and both of them know instantly that something is wrong, obviously, iskall was very clearly on the verge of some sort of anxiety attack.

“ i got your poem. ” came etho, and he approached iskall and sat down cross legged beside them, hands in his lap. iskall glanced off.

“ i was going to take it back, i'm sorry, ” the words just— came out, and etho withdrew slightly — agh, all iskall did was mess up. “ not that i didn't MEAN what's in it, i meant it, ” they stumbled, breathing out shakily and glancing away, away from etho.

etho laughed. it wasn't mocking, not at all, it was light and airy and it made iskall's heart skip a beat. “ are you okay, iskall? ” he asks, placing a gloved hand on their shoulder.

they glance to his hand and to his face, and filled with sudden boldness from whatever vault god that was probably watching them, they lean in, pull down his mask, and kiss him.

iskall has kissed someone before. two people, actually, season 7, they kissed grian and mumbo. it was — it was an experiment! it was nice, but nothing like this. this kiss had iskall lightheaded and their heart positively thrumming in their chest, and even moreso when etho kissed back and wrapped his arms around their shoulders and oh ... oh ! that's— THAT'S what a kiss should feel like, that's what sparks! feel like!

they pull away, regrettably, but it's worth seeing the flushed look on etho's face, the way his lips looked— iskall couldn't look away, it was amazing. it was— what was the word mumbo said? the one iskall liked? bang— bong— BONKERS! it was— mega bonkers, yes, that made so much sense. it was mega bonkers and had iskall warm in the face.

“ i liked your poem, iskall, ” etho muses, cupping their cheek in his hand. they feel like their brain has just shut down, and all they can do is kiss him again with a smile.

[boogeyblade]

ethubs and 34?

when the day met the night — p!atd

sometimes, when the moon had just risen over the horizon line, etho would sit on the front steps leading to the door of the snowfort. he'd sit with his jacket off, instead tied around his waist and his mask slightly lowered, just enough that his chin and upwards were visible.

he'd sit until he heard someone else stir, which more often than not happened to be skizzle or tango. he'd hear them inside laughing or whispering to each other in hushed tones, it'd make him roll his eyes and return inside to scold them for being so loud. bdubs needed his sleep, he always got a little grumpy if he didn't get the eight hours he insisted on — and since etho so dearly loved cared for him, he'd oblige and let him sleep.

tango and skizz would always startle at etho's appearance, especially the lack of a mask but over time they'd learn not to say anything. it wasn't often etho would lower it, even less so letting others see. team best had always kind of silently agreed that etho had his reasons for being so secretive, so after the first few days they'd learned to stop pushing.

he'd wave them off and make up an excuse about needing some supplies he left near the bed, and tango would tease him about wanting to go see bdubs — he wasn't wrong, but etho would prefer not to dwell on it. they were in a death game, one where alliances and bonds were supposed to mean nothing when someone turned red. luckily, no one in team best had reached that point yet, but etho had been apart of a game like this before. he knew it as well as everyone else did. it was only inevitable, so feelings were pushed aside and ignored. for the greater good, of course.

he'd slip quietly into the room bdubs slept in, and pretend for a moment to rummage through chests before he'd decide to sit on the edge of the mattress and watch the sleeping form of bdubs. it gave him peace of mind, sometimes, knowing bdubs was safe in bed. it was an assurance that he wasn't off doing something stupid or dangerous, which knowing him, the terms were always synonymous. but he wouldn't change it for the world.

he'd readjust the blanket on him, and press a kiss to the top of his head before raising his mask once more and slipping his jacket on again.

on his favorite nights, bdubs would be half awake and he'd stop etho from leaving the room with a silent tug to his sleeve. etho had learned a long time ago that saying no to him was always hard, he'd always use — what was it, that tango said? puppy dog eyes? — on him. even despite that something told etho he'd stay anyway, and he'd allow himself to get pulled into bed and bdubs would turn and curl into him, hands grasping at etho's jacket as be drifted back off to sleep.

even during the night, bdubs made everything feel ... warm. fuzzy, even, which was always a funny conclusion to reach. the fuzzy mossy time king, or whatever bdubs would call himself, making etho feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

he'd pull him impossibly close and hold on to him like it'd kill him to let go, and maybe it would. not that etho would dare risk that, not that etho would dare risk bdubs.

they'd sleep for a few hours before bdubs would pull etho from bed and they'd get ready for the day. sharpen weapons, strap on armor and prepare plenty of food. sometimes they'd sit around and lounge for a few hours, knowing the other factions were either too preoccupied with things of their own. etho would yawn, and bdubs would glance over to him with a stern expression that he'd never act on. bdubs knew as well as anyone that etho was hyper vigilant to the point where he'd deprive himself of sleep to keep others safe. sure, the phantoms sucked, but he'd live.

on his favorite days, skizz and tango would go off outside to scout for materials or set up traps, and according to bdubs, make out — so etho would be left alone with bdubs and they'd just— sit there. they'd talk about whatever, though always skirting around the darker and more pressing matters of the boogeyman or the game itself, but it was nice regardless. etho could listen to bdubs ramble for hours, especially when he dropped the wild inflictions in his voice and he'd just ... talk. etho would find himself physically close to bdubs, their shoulders pressed together or their fingers brushing together in a way that they weren't quite holding hands, but it was still enough to make etho's heart hammer in his chest.

and oh, on his favorite days, during his favorite moments, bdubs would smile. it would be genuine, not something played up for laughs or what have you, instead — it was the kind of smile that would make his eyes crinkle and etho's face red. they'd sit side by side, backs against the trees and bdubs would smile. his eyes were just as gorgeous, and they'd sit there and talk until the sky was golden and they'd lace their fingers together and say nothing about it.

bdubs would raise a hand to etho's face, fingers brushing sympathetically over the bags under etho's eyes and he'd ask etho to promise to try and get more sleep. etho would laugh it off, as well as laugh off the urge to ask bdubs to promise that he'd never leave etho's side, that they'd be together until the end. it was much too serious a talk to have.

at the end of the day, skizz and tango would return and they'd recount what they'd seen, inside jokes upon inside jokes on their tongues and etho would stare wistfully at the sun, bdubs. and bdubs would catch the eye of the moon, and smile that heartwarming smile and they'd chuckle to themselves. tango would give them a curious look and skizzle would laugh, but the duos had their own secrets to keep, and that was just fine, even if it wasn't.

[mumboyumbo]

the log creaks as bigb sits down. etho spares him something short of a glance, and sighs heavily — no one says anything. but etho passes him a golden apple which bigb takes with a silent thanks. the night sky is dark above them.

the next few minutes are spent just staring into the crackling flame. etho knows bigb has something he wants to say, but void only knows why he'd chosen etho to talk to of all people. maybe it's because the other members of the red army are— elsewhere.

etho's had a sneaking suspicion about impulse specifically. he's seen the man leave late at night more than once, shady eyes scanning the fortress for signs of other life — and of course, he never sees etho. people seldom do.

bigb clears his throat. he tosses the core of the apple into the fire and shifts to face etho. etho says nothing.

“ hey, man, ” he greets. etho huffs in response but offers a kind smile beneath his mask, one he knows reaches his eyes. bigb visibly relaxes.

“ so, i wanted to talk to .. you, about um, ren and martyn. ”

not what etho was expecting but intriguing nonetheless. “ what about them? ” he asks, voice gentle. bigb shrugs and clears his throat again.

“ have you ever noticed that they're... you remember when we were talking with impulse? and he asked what martyn got out of their— whole thing? ”

etho shrugs. “ yep. i remember that. ”

“ and you remember what martyn said? ”

“ you mean what he didn't say? ”

bigb nods. “ yeah, that. he didn't have an answer, i guess. not a convincing one, anyway. ”

etho shifts in his spot. he crosses one leg over the other and watches in amusement at bigb mirrors him. it's nice to know that he trusts him, but he supposes that's what makes the red army so special. minus impulse, of course.

“ guess he didn't have one, why's that important? ” it feels like bigb is skirting around the point of the conversation. the fire sparks beside them.

“ there's something else there. i don't know what but, i feel like they've ... they're more than just king and hand. whether they realize that or not. ”

etho pauses, an eyebrow raised — okay, yeah, bigb raises a good point. etho's never cared enough to question just why martyn sticks to ren's side like glue, or why the king's eyes are almost always on martyn. he's seen martyn stand close to ren and readjust the straps of his armor, and the way martyn's hand is always hovering above the hilt of his sword when ren talks to someone else, even if it's an ally. he's always ready to jump into battle for his king, walk right into enemy fire if it means protecting ren.

it's not hard to miss. “ i think martyn knows. but i don't think he wants to admit it. ” etho mutters, brushing a hand through white hair.

“ i can see that. do you think he knows they're doomed? ”

that catches etho off guard. not many things do, not anymore, but bigb gets the gears turning in his head. “ i ... yep. that's why he hasn't done anything, right? he's too busy mourning someone still alive to try. ”

bigb nods. his attention is once more on the fire, rather than on etho and for that etho is thankful. something heavy hangs in the air around them.

“ do you think they'll win? ” bigb asks.

it's not a question about if the red army will win, for they both know that answer — they're not as loyal to one another as martyn and ren are, the king who had wholy devoted himself to his hand, and the hand who had done the same for his king. the red army is all any of them have left anyway.

etho grimaces. he doesn't know how to answer that. who knows who'll win? maybe the crastle people will pull through last minute, maybe the deadly duo of grian and scar will reign victorious, but ... the red army? ren and martyn? it's...

“ i don't know. ” he finally settles on a reply. it's as honest as it could be, he thinks. but it's not something either of them want to hear. let alone think about.

“ is it bad that i hope they don't? ”

etho looks up at bigb. he can tell the man is close to tears. his bottom lip trembles.

“ no. it's not bad. ” i hope they die together, side by side, so neither has to kill the other. so they're not alone. “ i think it's only fair. i dunno. ” it'd be cruel for them to be separated in any way. like many things, it remains unsaid.

neither adds anything else. they watch as the fire dies out and as the sun creeps up into the sky in silence and they begin their preparations for the day. it's not mentioned again, because everything that could've been said had been.