“Accidentally ate a box full of magnesium, too embarrassed to admit it.”
Cleo reads a strip of paper, nods, and puts it in a cardboard box.
“Aging rapidly from the stress of having to balance around Etho existing.”
Pearl reads the next one and puts it in the box as well. They’re sitting overlooking Tango’s base. Trees are husks around them. Below them, Tango pauses in his work to watch what they’re doing.
“He just has a really bad fever. It’ll be red again when it goes down.”
“Oh, I like that one!”
“I know, right?”
They place another strip in the box. It’s clearly getting quite full; it’s stuffed to the point that paper is poking out of the sides. It’s painted with an angry face that, if one squints, looks kind of like Tango.
“What on earth are you two doing there?” Tango calls up to them.
“Stuck his head in bleach while trying to make the woods spookier and the male-pattern baldness means it’s not growing in again,” Pearl says, reading another one.
“What?” Tango says.
“It’s a suggestion box about why your hair has gone tragically white so young,” Cleo says. They pull out another slip of paper. “Got so scared of his own creation that his hair turned white on the spot.”
“What?” Tango says, significantly squeakier.
“Oh, this one is also good: got an appropriately tragic and dramatic and Byronic disease, but got better again after it made him all pale-er than normal,” Pearl says.
“Eh, I don’t know. A little overcomplicated, don’t you think?” Cleo says
“It’s because I’m a vampire! Look! I’ve got fangs now!” Tango says.
“Don’t see how that’s possibly related,” Cleo says.
“Didn’t you always have fangs?” Pearl says.
“Besides, who says vampires have white hair?” Cleo says.
“Seems unlikely, really,” Pearl agrees
“What do you mean unlikely! Weren’t you two literally just vampires? WHO HAD WHITE HAIR?”
“No I wasn’t. You’re crazy,” both Pearl and Cleo say at once. There’s a beat of silence as the two of them look in each other’s eyes, Pearl’s wide and glistening with mischief and Cleo’s soft, loving, and full of horrors.
“I think you might be my soulmate, Cleo,” Pearl says.
“We are on the same wavelength,” Cleo says.
“Oh, screw you!” says Tango, stomping off in a huff. The two former vampires watch him go.
Pairing: Etho/Tango
Length: 1.4k
Tags: Zelda Minish Cap AU, Link!Tango, Blazeborn! Tango, Minish!Etho, He's just a tiny guy
Summary:
After Tango saved the world and Princess Zed with the help of Etho, his nagging hat turned Minish, he has finally earned himself a break.
Only for his nap to get interrupted by his tiny friend visiting.
--
Knowledge of the game isn't required to understand the fic <3
While playing through Minish Cap with my buddy, we of course Slabtekificated it <3 So we made a whole AU for it lol
If you haven't played Minishcap, all you need to know is Etho is a tiny picori, thumb sized guy who got cursed and turned into a bird like hat that Tango wore during the adventure. Now that the curse is lifted he's back to just being tiny.
Read it on Ao3 or under the cut
Everything has been back to normal for a bit now. Princess Zed has been dragging Tango around town earlier this morning until he had to attend his afternoon duties (whatever those may be, sometimes not knowing is better with Zed) and Tango finally has some time to himself.
With the world saved from Vaati, monsters are gonna and the animals around are peaceful again and Tango managed to find a soft spot of grass somewhere where he has his own peace and quiet, away from the bustling castle town.
Now Tango has finally time to dedicate himself to his own studies.
Or at least he tried to.
Despite his back aching as he lays down, notebook placed in the soft grass besides him, Tango lets the sun wash over him. The warmth always feels natural to him, matching his flames.
Even if his body will punish him later, Tango falls asleep on the grassy floor.
The sun is still high up in the sky when a noise, followed by a rather annoying sensation wakes him up.
Red eyes blink open, desoriented for a brief moment, mind immediately trying to reach for a sword that isn't there anymore.
"How much can a guy sleep?" Sighs a familiar voice, then Tango feels a slight sting at his calf.
He blinks a few times because he knows that voice, but it sounds a lot quieter now than he's used to.
Carefully, he lifts his hand and puts his glasses on, from where they were resting on the notebook. Everything up close came into view much clearer now and as he leans forwards, between the blades of grass, smaller than a leaf from a nearby tree that has fallen down, is a not so familiar face.
He's not used to seeing Etho like this and not on his head, tugging at his hair with his beak-like mouth whenever he wanted to annoy Tango... Sometimes Tango wonders how he can miss this.
But seeing Etho here in all his tiny picori glory raises some fondness within Tango.
Careful not to accidentally brush against his tiny friend, he leans down, getting his face a lot closer to the ground, even if his body is clearly not a fan of him doing so, joints aching.
How did he manage to run through the whole kingdom just a few weeks ago? Adrenaline sure had its effects on his body.
"Oh, hi. Didn't expect you here... Poking me with a stick?" Tango realizes it's not actually a stick but a sword. "Or just trying to murder me in my sleep. Could've just said you missed me."
He can hear Etho's chuckle as he puts the sword away, into the sheath nestled at his hip. "I needed to wake you up somehow."
Etho crosses his arms and Tango finds himself reaching out, just one finger gently moving towards Etho who raises his hand in return. It's an odd form of greeting or affection but it's theirs, even if they haven't seen each other since their adventure ended. It just comes naturally.
The small hand rests against his finger. "So, what brings you out here? Except for poking me with a blade?"
Despite not having seen Etho's actual face much, he notices how he's smiling, can hear it in his voice, the same way he did when they were out, saving the world.
"Uh, nothing." Etho breaks the contact, sitting down on the floor, dangerously close to the small creak flowing nearby.
"Just fishing." Tango sees the tiniest shrug.
"And you couldn't do that in your forest?" The words are laced with a fond skepticism btt Etho shrugs again. Tango notices he has a fishing rod with him, a stick and some silky string but he trusts that it works well.
"Been there done that, you know?" Etho says absentmindedly, casting the rod into the water. "And besides, gotta catch different fish sometimes."
Tango's eyes travel from the tiny man, to the flowing water that has been the background noise of his afternoon.
With his eyebrows scrunched, he asks, "Are there even any fish in there?"
The cream is barely deep enough for Tango to set most of his lower arm in.
Etho just replies with a noncommittal "Hmm."
For now, Tango adjusts so he can lay next to where Etho sits, watching the way the string vanishes into the water.
Occasionally he can't keep his eyes from sticking to Etho, wanting to take in every bit of how he actually looks. He did regret not doing that the last time they were together but he was a little bit too occupied and out of breath from fighting for his and Zed's life, as well as the entire kingdom.
"What are you even catching? Plankton? Krill?" Tango can't help but ask after a few moments of silence. It's a nice contrast to the constant bickering he was used to with Etho.
For the first time since he sat down, Etho looks up at where Tango is lying on his stomach. "First of all, rude. Second of all, everyone knows they only live in salt water."
At this, Tango can't help but laugh, shaking his head. Meanwhile Tango's flaming tail comes to rest around where Etho's spot is, close enough to emit a soft warmth.
"No way, they're in all waters" comes the eventual reply to which Etho looks at him like he lost his mind.
They fall into the same type of banter that became so familiar during their adventure till Tango eventually had enough.
He dips his hand into the running water and sprinkles a few droplets towards Etho, drenching him entirely.
"Hey, just because you're all big and such-" His complains get interrupted by Tango wordlessly settling his warm tail closer around him, trying hard to resist the urge to annoy Etho or knock him over.
One soaked picori has to be enough for a day.
"Then tell me what you're catching," Tango asks, not in earnest interest but because it would keep Etho talking and here for a bit longer before he returns to his forest.
As Tango listens to the strategic bait colors to catch certain microscopic fish, he fishes out his notebook again, taking notes on a contraption he kept thinking about, inspired by some of what he saw during his adventure, made by the picori.
Having drowned out most of Etho's words, Tango nudges him, now mostly dry, with the non-writing tip of his pen. "Hey, mind taking a look at this for me?"
They fall into a long conversation, Etho sitting on the corner of his page, patiently explaining mechanisms and smaller devices to Tango, who rapidly takes notes.
Neither of them notices the sun starting to set behind the trees before the sky is tinted orange and pink above them.
"I should-" Etho starts but Tango interrupts him impulsively. "You shouldn't walk home. In the dark I mean. Monsters and... Stuff."
He can't even admit to himself that he doesn't want to say goodbye again.
"You could come to my house. I can make you a tiny bed or something." Tango laughs, sitting up and holding out his hand for Etho before packing up his notes.
This earns him a scoff. "Tiny bed, right."
Still, Etho steps on, Tango gently raising him up.
"Or we could take a leaf with us if this would make it feel more homely for you," he teases, slowly getting up, legs aching from laying on the floor for so long.
"Let's go then. Should I carry you in my pocket?" Tango asks, getting ready to deposit Etho in the comfortable warmth only to be met with a glare of mismatched eyes "Now that's just patronizing."
There's a playfulness in Etho's huffy tone.
Instead, he settles on Tango's shoulder, leaning against his neck casually as they walk home.
Inside Tango's humble abode, they find themselves working some more on the notes, till the candle on the desk burns low.
Etho yawns, stretching his arms above his head before looking around.
Tango's bed is right next to the desk so apparently the best course of action is to let himself fall right onto the soft mattress.
"Yeah, go ahead, make yourself right at home" Tango groans, wrapping it up for tonight.
When he moves over to the bed, Etho has already taken refuge on his pillow, fast asleep with even breaths.
With another sigh, Tango joins him, careful not to crush him.
When his head hits the pillow he truly realizes how close Etho is. For a brief moment he considers laying down elsewhere or at least turning away but against his consciousness, he stays.
With a single finger gently reaching out, he nudges part of his blanket over Etho, leaving his hand close by protectively.
Tango isn't used to this but he feels like this might grow on him quicker than he'd expect.
“What a strange glitch.” Grian commented as he looked into the very far distance and saw the expanse of their season ten world. It was surreal to see their old world like this, a phantom of what once was.
“It’s kind of cool though.” Scar said, looking into the distance along with Grian. “I like being able to see my old base again. See, look! There’s my train! And the zoo gate!” Scar pointed out excitedly.
“I can even see Big Ron’s from here.” Mumbo said, a hint of nostalgia in his tone. “And, of course, Joel’s city in the distance.” Mumbo said with a slight laugh.
“I guess it is nice to see my old fishing spot again.” Grian admitted, able to see a little bit of it from where they were all standing. “Still strange though.”
“Well, we shouldn’t have it for long. Xisuma is working on getting whatever glitched out and made this happen fixed up. So I’m sure by tomorrow it’ll be gone.” Mumbo said and then equipped his elytra. “Anyways, I should get back to my base. I still have a lot of planning to do for this next bit.”
“Oh, same here!” Scar said. “I still have a few more details to work out.”
Grian nodded but kept his own wings tucked behind his back. “I’ll see you fellas later then.”
Mumbo nodded and took off. Scar equipped his own elytra before turning back to Grian. “Are you going to stay here?” Scar asked, tilting his head slightly. Grian simply shrugged, looking back into the distance and toward the phantom season 10 world.
“For a bit longer. Like you guys said, it is kind of nice seeing into the past.” Though season 10 wasn’t that long ago, it still stirred up some feelings in Grian when looking at the old world. It made him want to stay just a little bit longer. Scar nodded at Grian’s answer and then waved as he took off and headed back toward his base.
Grian sat down on the hill he was on and simply…looked. He was pretty familiar with a lot of the server, what with having done the world tour and all. It was nice to look back on, though as he looked his brain kept supplying him with ideas for his current base. Grian hummed and took out his ideas notepad, jotting a few down that had come to mind.
He glanced up again, scanning the phantom world for a moment before going back to his notepad. But the second before his eyes had fully looked down, a small bit of movement had caught his attention and he looked up again to try and hone in on it, before freezing in his spot as he realized the implications of that.
No, surely he was just seeing things. Grian’s eyes moved over where he thought he saw something move. Funnily enough, it had been near his old base. He looked but nothing moved again and Grian slowly relaxed again. Of course, it had just been Grian’s imagination. If there had actually been movement then the implications of that would have been…
There it was again.
Okay, Grian’s eyes had been firmly set on the distant world and there had definitely been movement coming from his old base. But…but that wasn’t possible. It was a phantom world. A visual glitch! It wasn’t physically there. Trying to fly to it just pushed the world back further, like it was always out of reach.
Grian followed the movement he had seen, trying to make it out. But it was hard to tell with it being so far away. Grian glanced around him, making sure there was no one around before he allowed his eyes to glow purple and, essentially, zoom in on the movement.
It was still hard to make out, until the movement stopped, right on the water of Grian’s old fishing spot. Grian’s breath caught in his throat as he met a pair of eyes that were oh so familiar…
It was another Grian, staring right back at him with the same glow of purple in his eyes.
Well, this was a bit more than a visual glitch, it seemed.
I watched Grian's newest video and the phantom season 10 world gave me ideas. I quickly had to convey them with this little fic. Basically, my thought was, okay, but what if it was actually season 10, with the past hermits and all.
This was very fun to write. I most likely won't write any more but the idea is definitely a fun one to play around with.
watching mumbojumbo for the first time and tell me why i expected him to be this big brash cocky guy and he's actually this very soft spoken giggly brit???? mumbojumbo. one of minecraft's most revered and talented players. the god of redstone. the envy of all integral pillar of the hermitcraft. and he's just some guy
"For all that you did to keep me alive, you may slay me and take the enchanter."
Grian flinches, a full-bodied gasp wrenched from his throat. His sword, gleaming and dripping with Bdubs' blood, stills. Crimson drops stain the waters below.
"No," He says, so soft that Scar almost misses it. "No, I can't. I literally can't."
Why not? Scar tries for a smile, "Sure you can."
The sword lowers further. "No, no I can't—"
"You just stab right here," Scar points. Water splashes a little as he shuffles forward on his knees, angling the sword toward—
The blade is wrenched away from him. "Scar!"
Scar looks up.
Grian stares down at him in horror, eyes wide with unshed tears. His wings, vivid and colorful like a parrot's, are spread like he wants to flee.
Somehow, that thought— the thought of Grian running from him rather than towards him— scares him more than dying by Grian's hand. Blade. Whatever he wants, really.
"Gri," Scar whispers. "C'mon. I betrayed you, remember?" This should be easy.
Grian opens his mouth, closes it.
Then, "Let's go home."
What? "But—"
"I want a fair fight," Grian says, something desperate settling in dark eyes. "No swords, no armor, just fists."
Scar stares up at him for a few moments, just drinking in the sight. Light catches in sandy strands like a halo, and for a few moments, Scar feels like a believer— knelt in front of a pulpit, a worshipper in the face of the divine.
Eventually, Scar finds his voice.
"But of course," He says, taking Grian's hand in his own. "I'm sure Pizza would love to watch."
Grian relaxes, laughing a little in response.
Scar doesn't really know what they talked about on the way back. He's pretty sure Grian doesn't either.
(Surrounded by cacti, Scar misses. And misses. And misses.)
(Call me selfish, Scar thinks, pain blooming into spots in his vision. The wind has been knocked clean from his lungs. But I'd die for this view all over again.)
(Above him, Grian weeps, his head crowned by the desert sun.)
