Summary: Mumbo’s mole duties are finally addressed.
Doc’s grip on his arm is sudden and tight.
“We need to talk.”
His voice is menacingly low, and Mumbo can feel himself getting charged from Doc. ‘Oh, this isn’t good,’ he thinks as the German practically drags Mumbo out to the battle field. He doesn’t put up much of a fight, but it’s still difficult not to stumble with Doc’s quick pace.
Ren is waiting by a seemingly stable chair once Doc and Mumbo are there. He also doesn’t look pleased, but his gaze is a bit softer than the charged man dragging the redstoner.
Mumbo is virtually thrown down into the seat. Doc’s glare is sharp and Mumbo can’t keep eye contact for longer than a couple seconds.His eyes turn to Ren’s, a bit pleadingly. Ren doesn’t offer any consolation.
He’s been found out.
“Uh. Well, what’s this,” Mumbo laughs nervously. He doesn’t know what to expect.
“You know what this is,” Doc’s voice is hard as steel and as cold as it too.
Mumbo gulps. He hears pistons move under his seat and suddenly he’s falling. He hears the shatter of a splash potion and feels the effects of poison. His yelp of surprise is a bit late and is cut off with him hitting the ground.
‘A trapped chair, huh? Clever,’ his thoughts run rampant but this is one that sticks out. He’s surrounded by apparent never ending grey. He sits up, brushes his shoulders and straightens his tie. Might as well look as presentable as possible for what’s about to happen.
“Mumbo...” Doc’s voice comes from out of the grey and Mumbo can barely pinpoint where from before the man is standing in front of him in the small space. Ren follows silently. He still looks sorry, but he doesn’t say anything.
Mumbo turns to Doc. “Did you really think you could hide from us, Mumbo?” Doc has his hand on his trident. Not a good sign. Mumbo’s hands clench into fists at his sides. It doesn’t take a psychic to tell he’s scared.
Doc gives Mumbo a smile. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a small book. The so-called “Mole Orders” from G-Team he’d given to Ren. Doc holds it out to Mumbo and the suited man hesitantly reaches out. He takes the book and flips open to the page of writing, obviously scrawled by Mumbo’s hand. The smudges of redstone on the page doesn’t help much either.
He sighs as he closes the book. He clears his throat and says, “Well, you see, G-Team--” he says the title with a forced tone of distaste “--they asked me to make some traps on the battle grounds, so I told you about it- how I’ve made the traps- to warn you not to use them so I could gain your trust-”
“I think,” Doc interrupts, “that your ‘double agent’ duties are more.. triple agent duties, no?” His smile is wide and very fake. His trident is by his side now, and there’s small arcs of electricity flickering between the points.
Mumbo gulps again, feeling sweat gather on his brow. He risks a glance away from Doc to Ren, who looks more confused than anything. He’d just gotten back from taking care of urgent repairs in the HRN to have Mumbo blabbing about some “mole duties.” It makes sense that he’d go to their leader.
Mumbo curses himself in his head. ‘I was never cut out to be a mole in the first place,’ he frowns in real distaste for himself and the situation. He eyes Doc’s trident warily. The electricity arcing between the points is still there, now consonant with no flickering. His eyes flash up to Doc’s, and they do not look pleased at all.
The hair on Mumbo’s neck stands up with the electricity coursing through the air, and he has no doubt that Ren’s hair is too. He takes a step back, almost tripping over the chair and his back hits a wall. The space is even smaller than he’d thought. He’s trapped.
Ren visibly tenses with panic as he watches the scene unfold. Doc takes a slow step towards Mumbo, his hand gripping the trident tighter, his dark eyes boring into Mumbo’s wide ones. There is no smile on his face now.
-----
“Hello!?” A high-pitched British voice calls from above. Mumbo almost falls in relief.
Grian’s here. He’s safe.
Doc stands up straight and his trident stops sparking. He looks extremely dis-pleased by this timing. “Stay. Here.” He points at Mumbo with a scowl. Mumbo flinches back, not wanting to be shocked. “Don’t come out until I tell you to.”
Doc leaves as quickly as he had first shown up, Ren lingers for a moment to give Mumbo a sorrowful look. Mumbo glares in return. Ren wasn’t expecting that response apparently, as his eyes widen in shock before he scampers off with Doc. Seems Mumbo can be scary when he wants to as well.
There’s faint conversation from above. Doc had put on his happy façade again from what Mumbo could hear. He suspects Grian doesn’t know why he’s been called here by the opposing team’s leader yet. This will be disappointing on both ends.
He hears their steps on the ladder. He stays put. The last thing he needs besides Grian being disappointed in him is Doc snapping and frying them all.
He listens to them chat for a moment longer before Doc’s voice rings out, “Mumbo!” That must be his cue. He schools his face, takes a breath and walks through the fake wall, trying to be prepared for whats sure to come.
He’s met with a face of such disappointment that it stops him in his tracks. His line of a mouth is replaced by a small frown. He hesitates to move any further than he has.
He doesn’t know which side to stand on. They’re equally unwelcoming.
Grian starts to sigh but cuts himself off to help stabilize his tall mustached friend. Ren had pushed him.
“Oh, Mumbo,” Grian let’s his sigh out and turns to Doc, knowing what the German wants. Payment.
Mumbo stands quietly behind Grian as negotiations are made.
“No Joe on their side to rush over and give him a second wind, no soothing touch to tell him it’s okay. Just him, the blazing sky, and a grass that is starting to look too green.” [wels pushes himself too hard and it hurts.]
A gasp, a single step missed because of slippery ground, and he’s done for.
The arrow tears through him like a knife through butter, splitting his skin and burying itself deep, deep inside his side. It hurts, god, it hurts so bad. It feels like he’s going to fall apart. He’s got armor, yes, but how much does iron armor really do against the power of a fully charged fully enchanted bow that Grian’s just aimed at him? He’s a good fighter, he knows, but there’s only so much Wels can do to evade an aerial assault and Grian’s just gotten his lucky break.
He resists falling to his knees, curling over, and crying like he wants to. He’s not a fool, he knows what being down a member means, especially in a team where they’ve got less people in the first place. And…they don’t have a healer. No Joe on their side to rush over and give him a second wind, no soothing touch to tell him it’s okay. Just him, the blazing sky, and a grass that is starting to look too green.
Get up, he tells himself. Get up. Get out there. Fight.
It’d be so easy, he thinks, to just lie down and let his teammates help. Let False cover him while Impulse helps him back over, or ask Xisuma to rewind time, or just simply stagger back to base by himself (but he knows, there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to get all the way back. it’s futilefutilefutile). It’d take so little to call out, let out a pained cry like he’s biting back and have their leader command his friends to his aid.
A knight never takes the easy way out. A knight’s duty is to serve his lord, and his people, and he will not let them down. He must not fail, he thinks. Don’t let them down.
But it hurts, it hurts so bad that he don’t think he wants to be here anymore. He wants to be far, far, away where nothing can hurt him and he’s safe again just having fun with his friends and he doesn’t have to worry if the tiny winged fellow he just lent some item frames the other day could be preparing to gut him open like a fish. It hurts, doesn’t it? To see how fast everything falls apart, how fast just one mistake can lead to a world of hurt? But his job is to push past that hurt. A knight does not fall.
He thinks that it’s getting worse, he can feel the blood seeping through his fingers that he’s pressing tightly to his body like that’ll make it hurt any less. His armor and dark underclothes hide it, he hope. He prays. He grits his teeth, gingerly moves behind a hill, and prepares to remove the arrow—can’t have his team asking awkward questions.
Wels takes a deep breath, bites down on a stick, and pulls.
Blood fills his mouth, his ears ring, everything hurts hurts hurts and he wants it to stop so so bad. The arrow was barbed, the son of a bitch, and it hurts so much his skin is coming apart and soon the armor will be the only thing left. There’s a quiet scream ringing in his ears, he’s trying to see who it is before realizing he’s the one screaming and there are tears in his eyes, there are tears running down the metal, and hot, hot blood coating the entire side of his armor. He’s said that he shouldn’t show weakness, but everything hurts so much—he’s never felt this kind of pain before, never felt the kind of pain that makes you feel like you can’t move or breath or do anything for fear of it worsening and every time you move each one of your muscles screams wrong, please, don’t, not anymore, and it takes a moment for him to realize he’s the one whispering those words out loud.
He wants someone to make it better. He wants to be able to get away from it all, to be able to ask to be taken out of the field, to be able to rest at base with some water and all traces of blood gone from the shining, shining armor. Wels wants someone to tell him it’s okay, he doesn’t have to take all this responsibility.
But of course, nobody does. Why would they?
He gets up, and warm blood runs down his body and pain screams in his mind like the very action of getting up is impossible. It’s not, he tells himself, and ignores the spots flashing in his vision.
It’s over the top of the hill that he sees Xisuma, exhausted and leaning on a nearby tree, gesture to him. “You…hah…feeling alright mate?” He gets out, and gestures to his general hunched over posture.
Wels feels intense guilt rush through him for even thinking that he should ask to rewind time for something as trivial as an arrow wound. He steels himself, and shouts out, “I’m fine! Just was catching my breath for a bit.”
“Good! Actually, if you can…mind taking out Stress or Iskall over there? They’re causing us a lotta trouble…” He doesn’t know if he can even get over there. But. His teammate is depending on him, he can’t let Xisuma know his failure.
He can’t talk, or he thinks he might throw up. He gives a thumbs up, and starts to try to get anywhere near them.
Every step hurts, every step feels like his body is going to deconstruct and fling itself somewhere far into the stars and the universe. He’s not sure whether it’s his own will or the armor holding himself up at this point, but he soldiers on anyways.
He finally, finally gets near them. He doesn’t think they notice. He launches himself into the air completely ignoring the spots that flash and the burning hot-cold hole in his side and the blood drying sticky to his armor. He brings his sword down, an executioner at the table, and he doesn’t know whether he’s killing himself or the others.
It hurts, he wants to say. Please, can I have help? Can you make me feel better? But that’s so pathetic and weak and not at all helpful. He manages to get a hit on Stress before she sends him flying with ice, and that’s when he realizes that will might not be enough to keep him going.
He’s lying on the ground, ice coating his armor and the ground around him like some sort of twisted armor enchantment. It’s so cold, so so so cold and he can’t tell whether this is better or whether the burning heat of earlier is preferable. He’s just so tired.
There’s tears dropping onto the ground. He thinks it’s him. He can’t stop them anymore, can’t force them back. Doesn’t even have the energy to try to get up for a second strike.
He thinks his armor’s sprung a leak, maybe. He sees red swirl out around him, in some sick facsimile of finger paints on paper. He dips his finger in them and moves them around in the ice, forming small patterns.
He can’t move. Why can’t he move? Why did he need to move?
You can’t stop, you know, he tells himself. You’re a knight. You’re not a burden, are you? Just a pathetic weakling who can’t even fulfill his destiny? He knows. He knows he’s not quite enough, that he’s bleeding out on a bed of cracked ice and that he feels like his spirit is increasingly drifting from his body.
Joe, he croaks, but he doesn’t think he made any sound. He’s past saving, probably. Nobody around to help.
He thinks, if he can’t be of use, he could at least put Stress out of commission. He forces himself up. He can’t feel his hands.
He moves towards Stress. Jumps up with mechanical accuracy. His mind is overloading.
Brings the blade down. Twist at the last second. He’s not real, can’t feel anything at all.
Stress collapses. He starts moving, stiff-legged march, to his side of the field. He lied, he can feel the heat of the blood inside his armor.
He’s coming over the dip in the ground, marching, and he sees the sun dyed red and the grass behind him red in some weird mockery of a snow golem, and he laughs. Laughs and it hurts more so he laughs again.
His shirt is soaked, but he can’t really feel it. Just feels the weight. His armor’s a dull red.
He thinks he’s hurting, can’t tell anymore, just knows that his atoms are falling apart and his world is so bright and he’s failed his teammates.
Wels stumbles in front of Ren, still mostly unscathed, and looks at him with eyes with nothing behind them. “Please make it stop. Please. I’ll do anything, I know I fucked up, just make it stop.”
Ren takes a look at Wels, looks at the trail of blood, and freezes up. “I—man, what? Are you okay? What do you need?” His voice is pitching up in panic. “Wels, listen, we gotta get you to Joe or something. Or back to base. I’ll take you back, let me just let Doc know,--”
He’s cut off be Wels grasping his wrist with a blood-stained hand, knuckles turning white from the force. “No, they can’t know I didn’t do my job.” His voice is little more than a whisper. “I can keep going…”
Ren decides it’s not worth it. “DOC! Please, you gotta come quick man, Wels got hit or something and now he’s bleeding out here and I don’t know what to do!” He shouts across the field.
Doc looks over, distracted, and almost gets hit by Iskall. “WHAT? But Wels seemed fine when I saw him earlier—hold on! I’m heading over.”
Wels is swaying on his feet, eyes starting to go completely blank. “I’m fine.”
It’s in the next instant that Wels collapses, and Ren rushes to catch him before he hits the ground. His eyes are rolled back in his head, his skin is paper-white, and that’s before he notices the giant wound in his side. It’s—it’s bad.
He thinks he knows now why Wels was so pale and out of it.
Doc comes over, and he lets out a horrified gasp at the condition of their teammate. “...What happened? Why didn’t he let us know?”
“I think he didn’t want us to know, Doc…” Ren hesitantly says. They both sit on their heels, an awkward silence settling over the group. There’s still sounds of metal clashing behind them. “I guess, I’ll be taking him back to base?”
“God, please do. He’s so messed up, he shouldn’t have been out here fighting in the first place…” Doc says. “I’m so sorry, man,” he whispers in an aside to the completely unconscious Wels.
Ren picks up Wels in an awkward kind of side-carry, because jesus that armor was heavy, and prepares to head back to base. He thinks about what Wels was doing, and why he didn’t just tell them. He’ll talk to him after he wakes up, Ren thinks.
Until then, his top priority was going to be making sure that Wels’ wound and his stuff is taken care of until he gets better. That’s what friends do for each other.
Genre - Frustration/Comfort (when it’s not angsty enough to be hurt/comfort)
2674 words I spent too much time on
Stress, Iskall, Ren, and Grian (aka, the god squad)
This had to be the worst day Stress has had in a long time.
Early in the morning, she filled a backpack full of water from around her fortress and froze it into solid ice. It was freezing cold against her spine, water seeping through her cardigan. With the cold water seizing up her muscles, she leaped through the nether portal in the basement of her fortress.
The effect was immediate as the purple haze cleared from her brain. Any water on her clothes evaporated quickly away, but the ice in her pack stayed frozen. She knew as long as she stayed away from any fire or warmth, she would be just fine, at least for a long while. The bag constantly sizzled as anything that melted off of the ice evaporated quickly, making her constantly look like she was on fire from a distance.
There were chests in the nether that lined the walls, filled with concrete and carpets and glass. End be damned if she couldn’t at least help a little with the nether hub, even if she wouldn’t be using it very often. She grabbed a few stacks of glass, slowly feeling the weight of her heavy bag push down her shoulders and started to ache.
She had gotten through three stacks of glass before she was starting to sweat much more than what was healthy. Her mouth was dry as a desert and she could feel bile in her throat. The ice was not working. She felt like she was going to throw up.
She dropped the bag of ice on the ground, hearing it sizzle as she sprinted towards the nearest portal. She felt light headed and dizzy. Her skin felt like it was melting.
Stress leaped through an unlabeled portal without checking where on the map she was, landing on the overworld with a thump as her chest made contact with the ground. She suddenly felt cold, but still massively dehydrated. She struggled to stand dizzy and nauseous.
“Stress?” a voice called from somewhere that she could make out with her mind in a haze. “Are you okay? How long were you in the nether?”
The voice was getting closer and she could hear footsteps on grass. She braced herself on the portal, feeling the cool obsidian glass on her fingertips that slowly froze at the touch again. She opened her eyes, not remembering when she closed them. Walking towards her was Grian. She sat in front of iTrade, the building towering her in her dizzy state.
“Stress, are you okay?” Grian asked, putting a hand on Stress’ shoulder.
“Um,” she muttered, her voice quieter than normal. “No? Don’t think so.”
“Sit down, don’t throw up,” he said quickly, making an attempt to guide her towards the ground.
She sat on the grass in front of the portal. There was still morning dew on the ground that soaked her. She quickly froze it over, not wanting to get her clothes wet. She heard Grian rush away to who knows where as she sat there. The only sound was the fluctuation of the portal.
Grian didn’t take too long to get back. By the time he did, Stress at her knees pulled up against her chest and the entire ground around her had covered up with a layer of frost that mad the gravel crunch under his feet as he ran back to her.
He crouched down next to her, the morning dew melting at his touch, and handed her a glass bottle of cold water. “Drink it slowly or you’ll throw it back up,” he told her.
Stress barely managed to control herself from drinking all of it at once. She nursed it slowly, her head was still light and was starting to ache, but she took that as a good sign. She slowly drank it down and eventually, Grian brought her a new bottle of water before telling her that he had to go work on something and that she shouldn’t overwork herself at all. She only gave a mute nod and continued to drink the cool water.
About thirty minutes after she left the nether, she felt much better than she had, the moisture in the air and the ice at her fingertips helping her more than she thought it would. She still had a headache that pushed against the back of her eyes and she was a bit dizzy when she first stood up but she was able to quickly take off with her elytra. She wondered if the wind felt bad with her, considering it only took one rocket to take off.
She felt incredibly frustrated. The ice was supposed to work. She’d tested it before for shorter periods of time and she never felt any effects. She wasn’t able to help more than the smallest fraction with the nether hub. She was at a loss. A loss of daylight and a loss of resources.
As she flew over the shopping district, she remembered that she was out of quartz and quickly landed in the central area of the stores, just at the foot of the pond of dead coral and just out of reach of Captain Etho.
She first checked the Grian’s shop, it was the closest. All bought out. She then checked Zedaph’s. Nothing left. Her headache was getting worse as she realized that she would have to find some other way to get quartz, and there was no way she was going back into the nether.
She grabbed a small device out from her pocket and started to type out.
StressMonster101: does anybody have quartz? I can pay.
She didn’t expect a response, so she went to take off back to her base. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she was in the hair, unable to grab anything from her pack. She felt a buzz in her pocket too, indicating that someone was all texting the device. She sighed and quickly landed somewhere in the medieval district. It was hard to see anything past the forest that surrounded her.
rendog: I have some quartz I could give you for 2 diamonds per stack.
Rendog: Not blocks.
StressMonster101: Thank you! Are you at your base?
rendog: At the village I’m working on.
Stress pursed her lips. She, firstly, didn’t know where that was and, secondly, didn’t know why Ren would think that she would.
StressMonster101: I don’t know where that is
rendog: Meet me in the shopping district
She gave out a slight sigh and took off again straight up. The rush of the air in her ears made her head pound and she squeezed her eyes shut as she ascended. She could just barely hear the faint sound of a firework going off as she broke the tree line and shot up into the sky. As she felt the cold air rush against her and throw her air back, she also heard a faint yelling in the distance. Unable to open her eyes against the wind, she turned down for a slow dive and opened her eyes once more.
She only got a fraction of a second to see a red and brown object speeding towards her and making an impact with her side, sending her and the object falling to the ground. Judging by the familiar screaming it also gave as they began to fall, the object that hit her was indeed Ren colliding with her midair.
Both of them tried to pull up, but the tug Stress felt on her shoulder strap that kept the Elytra on her made her quickly realize how quickly Ren and she had gotten tangled up in their wings. Looking down at the quickly approaching tree line, she also realized how quickly they were descending into the trees.
They weren’t very high off the ground in the first place, making their fall through the trees quick, but not as painful as it could have been. In the blink of an eye and the snap of a few tree branches, Stress found herself back on the forest floor, all the wind knocked out of her and her elytra still strapped securely on her back. She couldn’t say the same for Ren. There was groaning coming from a few feet higher in the trees and when Stress looked up, she could see her fellow hermit draped over a tree limb, missing both his elytra and his bag.
It took a few seconds for Stress to compose herself. Pushing herself off of the ground and trying to clear her head of the headache that was only growing. The ground was covered in frost already, some reaching up against the trunks of the trees around her like climbing vines. Her elytra felt much heavier due to the fact both Ren’s elytra and bag were attached to it. Slowly, she detached it from her back and untangled the items before readdressing the RenDog in the tree.
In her busy work, Ren head started to get up and was leaning against the trunk of the tree. The light around him was darker than it should have been like a shadow was cast over him that wasn’t actually there. He held his head in pain, along with his stomach where he had hit the tree branch.
“Are you alive?” Stress asked, still sitting on the grass inside of standing.
“Barely,” Ren joked, opening his eyes. He was quick to compose himself and jump down from the tree, barely wincing at the pain that shot up through his legs from the rough landing. “So, you needed some quartz?”
They both laughed the pain away, commencing a small and quick trade. Stress’ head still was splitting with pain, though, so the quicker that transaction could take place, the better. More than ever did she wish the railway was finished so she could take that inside of trying to fly back to her base without crashing into the side of buildings. Which is something that she did several times. She clipped against the corner of one of ConCorp’s farms and one of the icebergs around her and Iskall’s base. Eventually, though, she landed on the top of her base.
She decided that it would probably be best to sleep this headache away rather than do any work, lest the odd lighting of the lower tunnels send her head spiraling in pain more than it already was. She descended down to the basement, where most of her things still were as she hadn’t moved much of it since finishing most of the actual base.
As she reached the ground, she looked out on an entire mess of things. As usual, there were snow golems everywhere, but significantly less than normal as the nether portal was still open.
“Damn it!” she yelled in frustration, her headache peaking in pain. The frozen ground rippled and wavered, sending shock waves up the wall. Where the ripples concentrated, towering spikes of ice grew from the walls and floor and ceiling. It skewered golems, broke the portal, and threw chests onto their side.
She immediately felt an incoming call buzzing in her pocket. She quickly clicked the button on the side, sending the call to her earpiece. At first, all she heard was rushing water, the sound easing her head temporarily before a voice cut in.
“Hey, Stress,” Iskall said in a slightly nervous tone. It was very hard to hear him, he seemed to be underwater. “The surface of the water above my base has seemed to frozen over and I can’t get out.”
“Are you okay?” Stress asked quickly, her bad mood turning to panic that made the ice spikes shrink and twist into sharper, spindly shapes that curled into thorny vines. “I’m coming right over.”
“Hey, chill out,” he joked. “It’s super cold down here but I have a conduit. Calm down for a bit, I just wanted to see if you were alright.”
Stress sighed, her shoulders dropping in relief. She sat down on her bed and flopped backward. Her legs dangled off the side as she laid horizontal with her bed. She pulled a pillow over from the top of it and set it under her head, feeling almost immediate relief.
“I have a really bad headache and some of my snow golems wandered into the nether because I didn’t close the portal,” she complained. “I also wasn’t able to get enough quartz and almost passed out in the nether… It hasn’t been a great day.”
She heard ice breaking on the other end, making the pain in her head spike suddenly. She visibly winced, but the sound of water went away and the sound of the cold wind replaced it.
“That sounds like a horrible day!” Iskall sympathized, no longer muffled by water. “I’ll be over soon with soup and healing potions.”
Stress laughed and curly up in her bed, throwing a few blankets over herself. “I’m fine now, getting some rest,” she assured. “You don’t need to come over.”
“If you say so…” Iskall said, trailing off slightly. “Talk to you later, Stress.”
“See you later,” Stress said, hanging up as she drifted off into sleep.
Stress awoke to whispers and she thought she was going crazy. Her eyes snapped open to the cold, open area of her basement and quickly scanned over every inch of her base. Chests were still thrown to the side but the ice spikes that head grown from every available surface head melted into slightly risen ice humps that made the floor uneven and bumpy in some places. It hadn’t been the first time this had happened.
She sighed, calming down from her surprise of waking up. She laid back down, staring at the ceiling of her base and the imposing height above her. She saw wings flapping at the ceiling as she closed her eyes to go back to sleep.
Her eyes snapped open and she sat upright in bed, looking up towards the flapping wings. High above her head were three figures, trying poorly to blend into the dark ceiling. Flying up there was a Grian holding an Iskall and a Ren in hand. Iskall was shushing both Grian and Ren, who were whispering, a sound that echoed off of the walls of the basement without much effort.
“Quiet, quiet!” Iskall tried, exclaiming it a bit too loud.
“Guys, she clearly sees us,” Ren said.
Ren was the first to let go of Grian, gliding down on his own elytra and landing on top of the messy pile of chests that Stress was going to have to clean up. Grain flew down, bringing Iskall with him as they both landed on the semi-solid ground of ice.
“We brought soup!” Grian exclaimed, fishing a canister from his pack, along with a couple of bowls.
“And cookies!” Ren added, grabbing a small sack from his side bag.
“And quartz,” Iskall said, taking a shulker box out and setting it on the ground next to her.
Stress swung her legs out of bed, taking the blanket with her as she sat on its edge. She tapped twice on the shulker box and looked inside. Inside was 19 stacks of quartz slabs. Just what she needed to finish the tunnel.
The smile on her face was as bright as the sun. She threw her blanket off, the fabric landing in a pile at the foot of her bed. She leaped over the shulker box and threw herself at Grian and Iskall, who were the closest to her, being actually on the ground and not on a pile of chests. The hug was clunky, Grian and Iskall’s shoulders making hard contact and Stress hitting her forehead against Iskall’s ear, but her chest bubbled with happiness from everything that surrounded her.
“Awe, I don’t get a hug?” Ren asked, climbing down from the pile.
“Get in here you dunce!” Stress exclaimed, laughing along with Grian and Iskall.
Hey anon? You are a genius.
First time in forever writing something happy! A bit rusty at this ^^”
[Fluff/Comfort]
[Evil Xisuma, Xisuma, Joe Hills, Rendog]
Evil Xisuma was invited by Joe Hills to meet him at the shopping district in the middle of the night. There was a lot more people waiting for him than just Joe, as it turns out.
--
Pop!
A letter suddenly teleported in front of the helmeted man’s face.
Ex grabbed onto it, why would Joe send him a letter in the middle of the night?
Especially that he knows tonight is his “remembrance night.”
The man tightly gripped onto the empty picture frame he was holding and sat up from the carpet in his room to place it onto the small nightstand next to his bed.
That’s enough for today, thanks for your help.
The feeling of nostalgia disappeared, as memories of other universes faded from his mind.
Ex opened the letter and pulled out a piece of paper.
Ex,
Mind coming to the Shopping district? Got something to show you.
Sincerely, Joe Hills.
He folds the piece of paper and shoved it into one of the bags on his belt. Ex groans, as he stretched and something popped back into place. He began to make his way up the ladder that leads to the ocean surface, quickly grabbing a boat, he made his way towards the main island.
It was a breezy, cold night. The sky was incredibly clear, with stars freckling and dotting the dark sky, alongside with a thin, crescent moon. The ocean only had small waves, gently pushing Ex along in his boat as he rowed. He rowed into the dark, reflective sea, with fishes under startled and swam away quickly. It was quiet.
Suddenly. A use of firework shocked him, it was so quiet that they sudden burst of sound had almost knocked him off of his boat.
It was none other than Iskall85.
“Y’know Exy, we should hang out more often!” He said as he flew around in a circle to slow himself down, slime trailing and sinking into the ocean behind him. Before suddenly taking off again into the dark night, disappearing into the stars.
Ex was confused, at the same time, did not know how to react towards it; he called him Exy just again, even despite telling him not to multiple times. He didn’t know whether to felt annoyed or flattered. Either way, he continued rowing.
-
It returned to quiet again.
Ex was taking a break, as that he had just arrived in the shopping district. He was currently at the front doorsteps of the stock exchange, sitting on the stairs. Rowing a boat was much more labor intensive compared to flying, and he needed his breaks. He should probably make a dirt hole base at one point… Maybe even live with TFC for a while, he probably wouldn’t mind-
“Yo! What’s up Z dog!” Rendog appeared from nowhere, glowing as always, hanging upside down from a tree that was in front of him, a pair of sunglasses dangling from his ears, barely hanging on.
“Ren. It’s literally the middle of the night. Why do you have sunglass-” The realization just hit him; “Did you just call me Z?”
“Yea, duh.” Ren said, then immediately proceeds to drop onto the ground face first. Ex couldn’t help but smile behind his helmet. “Besides. It makes sense, doesn’t it? We can’t just keep callin’ ya “evil” all the time! Besides, you aren’t even that evil anymore!” The bearded man plopped down next to the helmeted one onto the stairs. Smiling cheerfully as always. “Plus the fact that Z sounds just as cool as X, don’t ya think?”
“Right.” Ex said through a small smile.
It was sweet of Ren to be talking to him like this. They haven’t interacted much, but every time they did, Ex couldn’t help but smile, it’s just something about this optimistic glowy energy he gives off.
“Have you seen Joe? He sent me a letter sayin-”
“Speaking of that!” Ren said, and suddenly blindfolded Ex. “Don’t panic now! Ren diggity dog is here to guide ya!”
Ex shook. He was confused, but not scared, he knew he could trust Ren, he was like that in his timeline too, always friendly and trustworthy, sometimes a bit too friendly, but he was kind. “This better not be a prank, Ren. Joe-”
“Joe this, Joe that! It’s not like he is your dad!” He couldn’t see Ren right now, but he was sure that he was probably doing some extra hand motions with his other arm. As that he was holding him by the shoulder to make sure that he wouldn’t fall.
After almost what it seems about an eternity of walking in darkness and Ren yapping, they have finally stopped.
“Uh- Ren? Where exactly are we right now?” Ex asked. The air was still cold, they were still outside because he was sure that they hadn’t passed any doors.
The bandana that was covering his helmet was pulled off quickly without a word, only for Ex to see a smiling Rendog with one of the widest smiles he has ever seen, before moving out of the way quickly to bring everyone else into view; well, mostly everyone, there was some who couldn’t make it. Xisuma was nowhere to be seen, and Ex couldn’t help but be a little disappointed by it. They were practically brothers.
But the most wonderful thing was not the fact that everyone was here; while it was wonderful, there was a whole outdoor picnic. Set up in the middle of the night. It almost seemed like a dream.
“Howdy, “son”! It’s about time you showed up!” Joe said, stepping forward, laughing at his own joke, and pulling Ex into a deep hug. Ex hugged back, a wide smile crept up on his face. “Thanks “dad”.” he greeted back, taking off his helmet and stuck his tongue out like a little kid.
Suddenly, everyone joined in a group hug, surprising the scarred man. Ex at this point was tearing back up again. He has never been felt so loved in so long. He hugged back to the best he could. It was so warm, so loving. He suddenly straight up started to sob.
They were all shouting endearing encouragements and nicknames at him, he didn’t know how to take it. He was a crying mess at this point, smiling to the point where his face felt sore.
The banter continued on for a while, everyone just had fun. The original purpose of him being there is forgotten; it’s just friends being friends, doing stupid things, sharing memories.
Nothing could make this night better.
Suddenly, usage of a rocket sounded, and a blast of wind came through as someone practically crash-landed into the party. That, someone, was none other than Xisumavoid. Who was scrambling up to his feet. He didn’t even have his helmet on, he looked so happy- Ex was confused-- He had never seen him this way before, he almost always had his helmet on, Ex was the one to usually have it off.
“Ev-- Z! I got somethin’ for ya!” He yelled, waving something in his hand, before running up to himself and handing him the piece of paper. “For you.” X smiled tiredly, Ex took it carefully, almost as if it would break if he held it too hard.
It was a picture of his friends.
Iskall has an emerald eye instead of blue; he shared a similar trait of blue-tinted fingers with Stress, both wielding ice powers; and Jevin had slime bending, he was making himself into a weird shape again, as always. There were so many more little differences he could point out.
At some point. He had started to cry again.
A tear misses the photograph before he finally realized he was practically weeping.
Ex smiled happily.
He has never been this happy.
“Thank you. Everyone. Thank you, I can never thank you enough…” He cried while smiling.
Summary - Rendog is a creature of the night. For the first time, Grian shares Ren’s lonely night with him. (Inspired by Ren’s cover of Lua, by Bright Eyes)
Word count - 1.7K
Ren, with rockets in hand, flew up and out of his base, making sure that it was nearing sunset. Finally, Ren thought to himself, daytime couldn’t seem to pass fast enough. He flew to the nearest shore, ready to just spend a calm night to himself on the beach.
For Ren, going out during the day took quite the toll on him. Being in such harsh, direct sunlight only gave him headaches and brought him dizziness. He could handle dozens of torches, or staring into pools of lava, but something about sunlight brought Ren to an unforgiving state of nausea. Mumbo, amidst the end of his mole duties, gifted his sunglasses to Ren. These did improve his day-to-day life significantly, but nothing as drastic as to rid the incessant headaches.
He landed on a patch of grass along the sand, and he took a moment to take off his shoes and his elytra, just to rid the extra weight. He rolled up his pants before stepping on the shore, knowing it was inevitable he would end up wading through the water. The waves were small as they hit the shoreline, providing him with the comforting sound of movement and motion, letting him know that he was not the only thing with life on the quiet night.
As he took a seat into the damp sand, letting his hands sink down beside him, the moon began to rise in his line of sight. It was a clear night, with nothing but hundreds of millions of stars twinkling in the sky, and a full moon coming into view. It was beautiful, the most perfect night Ren could’ve asked for.
A full moon always brought a new type of energy onto Ren, something that even after years and years of experience, he was still never quite clear on predicting its effect at any one time. There were always trends he picked up on - the ability to see miles past what he can during daytime, a heightened sense of smell, even faster reflexes than what the night brought him normally. It was hard to differentiate the effects of a full moon versus the effects of nighttime in general, but one thing was for certain - the night made him stronger.
His eyes worked like a night vision camera. It could work during the day, sure, but its abilities shown best once the sun was down. Hermits could splash themselves with night vision all they wanted, but nothing could compare to the all-seeing eyes of Ren at night.
His teeth were sharp like those of a wolf, an untamed and unhinged creature. He could tear zombies apart with nothing but his teeth latching on to exposed skin. He could eat rotten flesh and never feel the effects of poison. To him it was another meal.
He could run as fast as his legs could take him. He could run endlessly without stopping, at speeds unmatched by anyone or anything the hermits had seen. He could run for hours on foot, never stopping, with rotten flesh hanging from his mouth as a source of protein if needed.
Ren was a wild animal, with nothing comparing to the werewolf abilities the man had once the moon rose and the sun had disappeared. He was strong, and fierce, a force not to be messed with. He could snap at a moment’s notice, and Ren himself would never even know.
But Ren was not only a creature of unforseen powers in the night, but he was also a creature of grace, of nature, of the given world. He was a creature of light.
He has a glow to him, only to be seen when light is lacking. He could create spheres of light, orbs of photons, all from his bare hands. A gift as his could only be found within a god, within a divine being, but here he sat, throwing up balls of white light out of sheer boredom.
Ren was powerful, a man who could both control the darkness of the night and the creation of light, and bend and shape both to his own will, to work with him. His strength and his abilities brought positive light to his name, his kind soul earning him many friends by his side. He was loved by everyone, and seemed to bring nothing but fascination and joy to those around him. What was he to be upset about?
Ren was alone.
"When everything is lonely, I can be my own best friend."
As a creature of the night, Ren lost a lot of valuable time to spend with his friends. It physically pained him to go about life during the day. It was the most awful feeling in the world. He felt useless, he felt as if he contributed nothing to his friendships. While everyone worked on projects together, and spent time with one another, Ren was confined within his base, with nothing but the cave walls to keep him occupied. His sorting system had the most perfect redstone, every inch of his walls were immaculate, because what else was he to do? When trapped in a cave during every moment the sun is up, what else was he to do aside from sleeping?
At night, everyone was asleep after a busy day out and about. Ren, however, was wide awake. It would be him, pacing around the cold and darkened world, wondering what would be different if his friends were here, night after night. Occasionally he and False would share nighttime adventures; False being Ren’s neighbor could see when he was out and about.
He always found joy in creating builds at night, however. Knowing that the hermits would wake up to a new addition to the railway network, or a new build in the medieval district, or a sudden surplus of diamonds within their shop, always brought him joy. He felt like Santa Clause, each and every night, and that was the one spark of joy no one could take away from him.
"What was easy in the evening by the morning’s such a drag."
Everything came to Ren during the night, his inspiration and his ability to build, his creativity, his joy, it all happened by the sunset. He could run freely and build freely with perfect vision and without a pounding headache. But once the morning came around, he was reduced to nothing. He immediately went to hide. He does it in the name of his health, but at what cost?
Is he truly any healthier?
Ren stared into the ocean, his legs pulled up to his chest. He wanted to do something, he wanted to be productive, but he felt no motivation. Once the morning came, all his efforts and energy would be useless.
"It was so simple in the moonlight."
He felt himself drifting away with the sounds of the moving water and the swirling of his own thoughts. He caught himself in a half-asleep stage after he heard another person in the distance. "Is someone there?" he called out, secretly praying that his senses hadn’t led him astray. After hearing no response, he turned to his sense of smell to find the source of what he heard.
"...Grian you know I can smell you, right?"
"You sly dog, you!" Grian shouted at Ren, swooping out of the sky and landing swiftly beside him. "I sometimes forget that even my sneaky-sneakerson skills can’t outperform your K-9 senses," Grian huffed as he tucked his wings tightly behind him, as to not whack Ren with his feathers. "No one outsmarts the diggity-dog, you should know this by now!" Ren exclaimed. They were both giggling at Grian trying to act pouty, which was an act he could never quite pull off.
"What are you doing out here man? It’s super late at night, you should be catching up on your sleep," Ren turned to face Grian. "Well, I kinda slept during the day so I could hang out with you, it has been quite some time since we last saw each other."
Ren was quite frankly taken aback by his response. He felt tears form in his eyes, and he had no clue what to do. Ren never really expressed his emotions so openly, but everyone knew he was quite the soft guy.
Grian could see the tears in Ren’s eyes glisten in the moonlight, and immediately went to bring Ren in for a hug, extending his wings to wrap around him for added comfort. Caught up in Grian’s kind gesture, he could do nothing but cry. He hated crying in front of others, as something in his instincts told him it was a weakness, but he knew it was perfectly healthy, and he knew he could confide in Grian.
For a few minutes they embraced, Ren profusely trying to compose himself so they could carry on speaking with each other, but Ren struggled to pull it together. He had become so accepting of having the nights to himself, accepting of having his friendships exist but never acted upon, accepting of being physically alone. Aside from False, no one had taken such an effort to spend time with him. He and everyone around him had come to a silent agreement he existed on his own schedule, whether he wanted it to be that way or not, that was simply how it was.
Ren sniffed and looked up. "Thank you. Just thank you Grian. This means more than you could imagine." Grian smiled at him, radiating nothing but happiness. "You are very welcome buddy. I’m very thankful to spend this time with you."
"I know everyone always talks about the concept of the ‘lone wolf,’ but nothing about it applies to me. I don’t know what I would do without someone like you around." "I think you’d just go about, doing lone wolf things whether you wanted to or not. It’s kinda in your instincts." "Thanks, captain obvious," Ren replied, shoving Grian’s arm.
The two always found peace and laughter in each other’s company, and nothing changed, despite the time they had spent away from one another. While they hadn’t known each other forever, their souls seemed to go way back. Ren created spheres of light for the two to admire by the shore, and the wind took it upon itself to send them dancing throughout the air. Everything seemed simple, and the universe seemed at peace.
Maybe the night was not as solemn as Ren once thought.
Summary: War is stressful and sometimes you just need a little break. The problem is that the other team is unlikely to agree.
The air was chill, colder than the nights before it. The moon was gone from the sky, stars taking its place on the new moon. The ground was covered in frost, reaching from its central point, a silent, seething figure on the sandy river shore.
The fight had started as a skirmish, another chance encounter. She had only been about fishing, something she used to calm her nerves during trying times such as a war. She heard the footsteps, felt the chill down her spine reach the dew covered grass and spread in tendrils. She watched the river freeze over, her fishing line stuck in place as she set down the fishing rod to her side.
The footsteps had stopped when she started to get up, the tendrils of frost reaching outward from where her hand touched the ground. Her observations had been as sharp as cracked ice, ready to strike like an icicle set into an awning.
She turned calmly, her face not one of anger but expectancy. She knew she should’ve done this by her own base, where the fish were sparse but the night was quiet. She was scared to fall too far from the G-Team base, though, worried that they may need her at a second’s notice. She wasn’t very surprised that she was the one that needed them.
Her brown eyes tinged blue met with two pairs in the unlit night. She could hear zombies groan and skeletons clatter in the distance, but none of the three humans made a noise.
There was Impulse, standing with his hands clasped behind his back and glowing brighter than normal. A yellow aura surrounded him, wavering with the heat that came off of his form. He was ready to summon his weapon from behind him at the drop of a hat, the smirk on his face threatening and cocky.
Behind him, a few meters back was Ren, in his prime. His eyes glowed slightly, a charged power inside him giving them a silver tinge. His lips curled up in excitement, teeth bared and legs ready to sprint. He carries a sword with one hand, the blade gleaming in Impulse’s bright aura.
“Hello boys,” Stress said sweetly, testing a smile. “Great night for fishing.”
They could all see the reaching tendrils of frost covering the ground. The wide break it had around Impulse wouldn’t go unnoticed either, though it was only some frost.
“Would only be better if it was raining,” Ren joked, Stress understood the implication.
Her hand, still next to her side, slid into her right back pocket. Inside sat a little button, one she pressed with a simple click. She kept her hand in her pocket, attempting to not look suspicious. It was a 1v2, the odds against her. She needed help, any that would come. She knew she would still have to stall.
“What have you come all the way out here for?” she asked, her voice as relaxed as she could force it.
“To send an ice queen out of commission for one, maybe two days,” Impulse said matter-of-factly. “Think you know anything about it?”
Stress licked her lips, sliding her foot to the side and widening her stance as she removed her hand from her pocket. “What’re you planning for tomorrow?” she played along.
“Nothing yet,” Ren replied.
She saw him start to move but she struggled to catch the movement. A trail of ice started to follow him, nipping at his heels as he sprinted circles around her. She knew better than to take her eyes off of Impulse, though. She saw that glow burn brighter, a red-hot light coming from behind his back.
Preparing her other hand, she glanced quickly to Ren. She immediately glanced back at Impulse, throwing her left hand up into the chilly night air. The frost that had surrounded him solidified and strengthened, shooting upwards in a series of tightly knit spikes that reached their peak mere feet above Impulse’s head. A jail cell of ice, layers upon layers keeping them solid to the ground. It would do little to cage one of the three fire elementals without a little help.
She pulled away the hand that chased Ren’s movement and clasped it with her other. They unclasped, slowly moving apart, matching the pace at which the layers of ice thickened, turning a crinkled blue with frost covering its edges.
With her attention drawn away, Ren changed direction sharply, pushing up grass in the pivot. He kicked off into a sprint again, shining iron sword extended as he held it ready in his right hand. Stress heard his approach, turned too late as she caught the gleam of the sword in her eye before it caught in her side. Iron as cold as ice sliced through her side. Blood soaked her cardigan, though the wound was ultimately superficial. She was still blown back, moving away from the blade and doubling over. She set a hand on the wound, her hand and clothes tacky with blood.
The frozen cage was melting, water flooding the ground as a hot yellow glow came from the inside and through the cracks. She heard the whip crackling and sizzling against the ice. Stress straightened up and faced Ren. She just had to buy some time.
Ren was now about fifteen feet away, blade out and dripping, held carefully in one hand. His stance was wide, one leg more bent than the other as he readied himself to sprint again. He wasn’t at his strongest, but just barely. The new moon only hindered him slightly, but he was still stronger than any of the rest of them.
His leg bent more, he was ready to sprint. As he kicked off, Stress flung her hand towards him, watching a sheet of ice cover the ground between her and Ren. He attempted to stop short but quickly felt the ground come out from under him and his stomach drop to his feet. His back hit the sheet of ice, sending a resounding smack echoing in the night air.
A louder crack came from Impulse’s direction. She snapped her head back to him in time to watch several of the spikes that the cage was made out of slide from their supports and shatter on the ground. Dull light came from Impulse’s form, sending Stress’s heart going ten times faster.
Rapid footsteps came from her left, Ren’s direction. His boots crunched the frost they walked on. She needed to focus on Impulse though. She stepped back, trying to create some more distance between him and her. She saw the light of the G-Team base glimmer in Ren’s sword again, a warning she appreciated but ignored. Her eyes were trained on Impulse. Out of panic or determination, she wasn’t actually sure.
Ren stopped short of Stress, yelling out in pain. He hit the ground, spun backward by his arm. Her eyes tore from Impulse. Ren was flat on the ground, groaning and holding his shoulder. He had let go of the sword so it was sitting at his side.
There were footsteps running rapidly from the G-Team base, armor clanging that reminded Stress that she had left the base without it. She didn’t have time to address them as Ren started to get up, propping himself up with the arm that wasn’t in intense pain.
Stress ran up to Ren and kicked the sword away by the handle. She knelt towards the ground, pressing her knee against his chest to keep him in place. She aimed her hands down at his wrists and shot, forming bolts of ice into restraints that would keep him much longer than they would Impulse. Speaking of… She heard the crackle of fire the clang of sword against iron. She pulled her attention away from Ren, confident that the restraints would hold.
Only one had joined her on the battlefield, at which she sighed in relief. The others needed their rest. Most had been injured in a recent battle. Although they were quick to recover, it wouldn’t be smart for any of their injured to run out onto the battlefield again. Instead, Jevin had joined her, swinging his sword with more force than was normally possible. Impulse was glued in place, feet stuck to the ground and unable to move his limbs with as much accuracy as he usually would have. He lobbed heavy blows of fire in Jevin’s direction, barely missing each hit as Jevin dodged out of the way.
Stress ran back to her fishing outpost and threw open a chest. Out of it, she yanked a quiver of arrows and a loosely strung bow, which she was quick to tighten. She shoved an arrow into the notch, brushing over the flinthead and feeling it chill and sharpen under her fingers, ice coating the tip. She let the arrow loose, watching it fly towards Impulse at top speed. As it entered the area around him, it dropped with the sudden change of gravity. She was lucky when hit his thigh. This time she aimed high, hitting him the right arm. A smile pulled at her lips, knowing they had the upper ground.
A flash of light to her left blinded her, and from the surprised noise, it seemed Jevin as well. There was a distant thump, a few feet away from where Impulse once stood. When Stress’ eyes readjusted, she saw Impulse thrown against a knoll, though with almost no physical side effects besides being thrown off for a second. He quickly recovered, pulling himself to his feet as Jevin continued to try to recover his vision.
Impulse sucked in a breath. Stress’ heartbeat skipped. He blew outward, holding a finger in front of his mouth like a whisper. The resulting flame carried outwards in a cone of fire, encompassing Jevin in the blast.
Jevin yelled out in agony. Stress could hear bubbles pop sickenly, making her stomach churn. When the fire cleared, Impulse having run out of breath, she saw the slime that made up Jevin’s form bubble and steam, boiling in the intense heat. He was grimacing in pain, kneeling down with a sword in one hand and the other on the ground as he pushed himself up. Impulse looked cocky for a few seconds before Jevin made a sharp nod upwards.
Impulse flew into the air, turning upside down at first in surprise before gaining control over his position again. He looked down to see the ground far, far below him. If he fell now then he would be fine, but if Jevin used his power further…
He sucked in another breath subtly, watching Jevin get up and look away temporarily. He was weak, it was clear.
“Doing alright Stress?” Jevin asked, though from the grimace he still held and the fact his form still bubbled and steamed it would be smart to worry for himself.
“Yeah, I’m-” she started, her brow knitted in concern.
A yellow-hot light caught her eye. She pushed off from her standing position, sprinting towards Jevin. The ground under her turned to ice, spreading out like vines with each step, reaching the river in her speed and power. Heat drew closer, making her sweat profusely, her head started to get light. Her breathing was quick and she barely worked up the energy to keep sprinting.
She jumped, the step where she took off spreading ice that quickly shot up into sharp spikes to follow her feet. She felt her hands connect with Jevin’s shoulder and push off, sending him sprawling against the ground and barely out of the range of the cone of fire that was quickly incoming.
