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tunastime · 1 year ago

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Restful Dreaming, Mr. Freelancer

hi everyone :3 so um. I may have gotten very much into rvb smiles. and you know what happens when I really love something! and when I really love some guys from a something! yeap. here we go again. I just think caboose could be friends with everyone. I'm a caboose enjoyer what can I say. I love him.

Washington follows the Blue Team back to Valhalla, where he tries to get some much needed rest. Emphasis on tries. (3828 words)

When Tucker and Caboose find the unused, fourth room in the base, it’s Tucker that sweeps his arm out and gestures grandly to the room around them. It’s not very large—bed, closet, table, desk, bathroom. Enough space to walk around in—enough blue-white light to make sure nobody goes insane in somewhere so dark. Caboose goes on about how they’re almost neighbors, listing off what they could do being so close, gossip and sleepovers and the like, and Tucker goes on about how that’s nice, Caboose, and sure thing, buddy, and both speak to a Wash that’s not listening. He’s looking over the room, filtering in through a fine layer of yellow, just enough to change the hue from cool to warm, and something settles in the slope of his shoulders. He turns after a beat, folding his arms.

“You’re certain I can stay here?” he asks. Tucker shrugs.

“Yeah, I mean…” he starts, in the way that Tucker always seemed to do when he was on the edge of a decision that ultimately made him uncomfortable. “Just repaying the favor. Plus you’re the only one who really knows how to get Church outta that thing.”

“Epsilon,” Wash corrects. “And it’s a memory unit, not a thing.”

“Sure,” Tucker shrugs. “Whatever.”

“We still don’t know where that thing is,” Wash says, but it’s without any of the usual bored sting he might’ve normally laid on. He can feel the worry in the room like water around the ankles, like it invaded his boots. He steps side to side for a moment, trying to shake the feeling.

“We’ll find it!” Caboose pipes up, nodding several times. “We’ll find Church. I know we will.”

Wash sighs.

“Yeah,” he says. “I hope so.”

There’s a beat of silence. Wash feels his lungs work against the tight feeling in his shoulders all the way up until the point where Caboose breaks the silence.

“I’m going to go make lunch,” he says. “I’m starving.”

“Good point, Caboose,” Tucker agrees. He turns to Wash as he adds: “You, uh, let us know if you need anything. You’ve got the tour, now, so…”

Wash nods.

“Right,” he manages. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

The silence leftover is mostly full of the sound of air circulating through the room and pulling into his helmet. Washington stands in the room in that long moment, finding his head spinning just enough to rock his balance. He’s not so sure he should even be standing, but Tucker had handed him enough med-kits to keep him running, and his bones felt mostly in place, despite some nasty bruising up his shoulder and back, all the way down his right hip and thigh and knee. He pulls himself from his stuck spot, finally gathering the strength to unlatch his helmet. Both thumbs hook under his chin until it clicks, and he sets it in the armor stand.

The thing about the armor is that they’re not necessarily supposed to take it off. It does come off, huge chunks of titanium alloy perfectly compressed to fit each wearer, to sit comfortably against layers of computer arrays and magnetic fasteners, bolts and straps and sealers. As soon as he starts pulling, chest pieces and arm braces come loose, and he sheds the exosuit slowly. Underneath is the cool-black bodysuit. That’s the part that really shouldn’t come off. It did, every once in a while, when there was enough time to spend recalibrating, readjusting, resyncing. The suit and all its layers, down to the skin, down to the channel of his spine, from tailbone to nape of neck, aligned with sensors and biocomponents along a fine, white scar to a thick, but equally healed one at the base of his skull, took time to adjust to. That time was precious.

But it didn’t matter with this suit. There was no connection. The suit would simply communicate without having to know, would respond to forces it knew best, and rely on what he had without a physical, grounding connection. He was free of it. The scar and its components would fade from his body. They’d be nothing but a memory.

Carefully, Wash dissects the titanium bodysuit—kevlar—coming apart at the seam, carefully fastened, skin-tight. It’s uncomfortable at first, adjusting to the air of the base, without the suit’s micro-adjustments for temperature and humidity, but he eventually shirks free and places everything in the armor compartment.

He feels light. He also feels exposed and a little small. He searches for any sort of replacement, sleeping clothes, uniforms, anything plastered with UNSC across the arm or chest or back. When he does find it, he’s quick to pull it on and over his head. The shirt falls crooked across him, pants similarly too large, and he has to wonder what sort of Spartan these were made for, knowing how he certainly wasn’t the smallest soldier he’d met. It’s something, though, and he doubts he’ll be wearing it for very long. In fact, he finds himself tugging it off as soon as he figures out the shower, and douses himself in hot water long enough to get the plastic smell off his skin.

Without the shadow of the day, his reflection in the mirror takes on a sunken quality. His eyes are dark and tired, lines stretching out underneath them, and the already-pale, now-bony quality of his face does little to hide it. He’s turned all sharp angles all too quickly. But if he’s got anyone to bitch to it would be himself. Well, maybe Caboose and Tucker would listen. But they probably wouldn’t understand. Epsilon might’ve ratted out his bad sleeping habits to Caboose, were he still around to actually see them. But he very well was half the reason they existed, so, touche.

Besides, now Wash was looking out on a bed that was impossibly too big for him. He pulls back far too many layers of blankets and pushes aside pillows and makes himself a space between it all.

The lights are dim, casting long, fine shadows in the cool light. They dim further to a blackness as he settles, lying back in the few pillows and pulling still-starchy sheets around him. His tired body all but sinks into the mattress, body aching at every joint from overuse, begging to stay and to be comforted. It's there he lies for a moment, adjusting to weight and pressure, air and texture around him. He sighs. It’s the longest exhale in what feels like a very long time. The back of his throat, up through his nose, starts to burn.

He squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a sharp breath in.

Washington’s hands come up on instinct, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes as he fights back a sound from deep in his chest. It’s hard—it feels so stupid to call this hard, because he could just crack, just for a second. Just for a moment of relief, and—he does, shutting his eyes tight still and willing in a breath through his nose as he turns his face into pillows that he hopes were nobody else's and probably never were and never would be again. Nobody knows he’s alive. Not Command, not Project Freelancer, not the Meta—Maine. Not even Epsilon. For now. The weight off his shoulders was so instant it nearly winded him, on a bed seemingly too large. It was simply him, unshackled, and the blue-white armor in its case, and Caboose, and Tucker. And the base around him was quiet.

Washington lets his body relax. Sleep comes like a heavy blanket.

His second week’s worth of sleep doesn’t go as well. Tonight, Wash is still awake. It’s not of his own choice—if it were he’d already be asleep, curled into the plush pillows and firm mattress. He stares up at the ceiling. His eyes are dry, and it’s not all that comfortable to blink, actually. He’d prefer to focus on sinking into this nice bed, but he’s having a bit of a hard time. What he means by nice bed is that he’s gotten so used to sleeping on the ground or in the back seat of a moving Warthog or the jet or his cot so folded and unfolded that it stopped being comfortable, or the bunk that was just the right size but not nearly deep enough to fit him without moving, that having actual room to move around is really good. It’s really good, actually, and he’s not sure when the last time he had such a nice sleep was.

He’s not even sure when he woke up that first day, aside from the fact that it was Caboose waking him up and it was still dark out—or had just gotten that way. Maybe he’d slept that whole day. But he wandered around the Valhalla base instead, swallowing down the ache low in his spine. He mapped the rooms in his head, twisting around the circular hallways. Kitchen, armory, five rooms, garage, a small central living quarters that remained barren and empty, aside from bits of broken computers, radios, and robot parts. The floor still smelled like cleaner, remnant from the UNSC’s thorough cleaning.

Anyway—he’s still awake in his own room. His eyes hurt. He’s looking into the dark grey ceiling and wondering if sleep might crawl its way back to him when there’s a knock on the door. There’s a brief pause before it happens again. He frowns, scrubbing at his eyes as his brain fights the fog settling over it.

“Agent Washington,” a voice says, feigning a whisper through the sliding door.

“Caboose?” he whispers back, furrowing his eyebrows. Isn’t it late? He looks over to the bedside table, reading the dull red numbers on the clock—yeah. Late. “What are you still doing up?”

He hears Caboose sigh. If he thinks hard enough he can imagine him leaning against the metal frame, cheek pressed against the door, looking about as pathetic as he sounds.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, part tired and almost part sad.

“Why’s that?”

“I—” Caboose lowers his voice even further. “I had a nightmare.”

Wash blinks slowly, sitting up, eyebrows still furrowed as he frowns. He counts himself lucky that his head isn’t spinning from lying down too much. Sighing, he presses his fingers to his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them, trying to make the blurry room come back into focus.

“You—” he tsks as he words jumble in his brain, hazy with sleep. “Why did you come here?”

“Can I come sleep with you?” Caboose asks, completely ignoring the previous question. Heels of the hands to his eye sockets. Alright. Fine. He waves uselessly at the door, knowing full well Caboose can’t see him. Then it clicks in his brain: response. Right.

When Wash goes to give him an answer, it’s replaced by the sound of his bedroom door sliding open and shut and Caboose wandering in. The muddled dark obscures his silhouette more than usual and the normally wide slope of his shoulders was much more drawn in than Wash was expecting. He’s partially shrouded by his own blanket, wrapped around him as he steps in.

Wash feels something rolling around in his chest as he watches Caboose shuffle over, like his brain isn’t absorbing the situation properly. He mostly just feels lost. He’s still sitting up, slouched forward, mouth a fine line. His arms pool in his lap, head tilted just so as he observes Caboose in front of him. This is weird, right? Not in a bad way. It’s just weird.

Caboose stands there, frowning just a little bit, enough to almost be a pout, mostly looking at the bedside and not at Washington.

“I—” Wash starts, trying to protest. Caboose looks up at him for a moment with wide, brown eyes, and Wash feels his chest tighten. He shuts his eyes, sighing out of his nose. Then he pulls the covers back, gesturing vaguely to the space next to him as he lies back down. If there was one thing he’d learned from Caboose, it was that there was no arguing a point once he’d made his mind up. He was as stubborn as he was strong, and the man wasn’t slight.

There’s a beat of silence as Washington gets comfortable again against the mattress again, feeling Caboose move to his left. He worms around a bit, knee bumping the outside of Wash’s leg, elbows knocking together as Caboose makes more of Wash’s bed his own space. With Caboose’s arm now pinning his own, he clears his throat.

“Caboose,” he says firmly.

“Washington,” Caboose says, like his name holds the same weight as it did so long ago. At least someone’s impressed.

He sighs. Caboose is a heavy, warm weight against his side, and although he clings to his left arm like his life might depend on it, Washington couldn’t necessarily call it bad.

“You can either get comfortable,” he says slowly. “Or I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“Okay,” Caboose says quickly, wriggling further over. As his head lolls, it falls against the bone of the high of Wash’s shoulder. He ends up curled up in the space Wash’s side leaves open, head on his shoulder and arm over his ribcage. He’s heavy, holding himself and Wash to the mattress as he relaxes. Wash’s arm ends up pinned under him, bendable at the elbow, enough to shift around and find a comfortable spot to rest it. Caboose manages to pull the blankets over them both haphazardly, lying part on him and part over Washington’s torso. He squeezes his eyes shut. Caboose cannot be serious. This can’t be his solution, right? He takes a long breath in. Caboose finally says:

“Thank you, Washington,” in a soft and sleepy voice mostly muffled by his shoulder.

Washington sighs.

“Sure, Caboose,” he says, resigned. “Glad I could help.”

Caboose hums, sounding comfortable. In the time it takes for Caboose to finally knock out, how short of a time that was, Wash finally relaxes. He lets the weight around him settle him on the mattress, tired and heavy, and lets his eyes close. He can’t catch the edge of sleep just yet, but he can lay here, quiet and still, so that Caboose can sleep. He matches the slow rise and fall of Caboose’s shoulders, feeling his muscles slacken as he drifts off. Maybe it’s nice, actually. The weight against his side, pressure to the muscles that ache, warmth and heavy comfort. He can’t remember the last time someone shared the same bed space as him—those bunks were too small to really fall asleep next to somebody in, and sleeping in shifts wasn’t the same as someone sleeping against you.

He can faintly feel where Caboose’s cheek is crushed against his shoulder, where his arm rests over his chest, hand tucked against his other side. When he looks over, Caboose’s eyes have shut, face relaxed in sleep. There, he leans, pressing his cheek to the top of Caboose’s head, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe it is nice. Maybe being needed for something so innocent as comfort could be nice. His chest twists, something as painful as it is warm weaseling up next to his lungs.

It reminds him of Invention. Nobody really wanted to leave York alone after the accident on the training room floor. He could fall or trip, he could miscalculate and hit into something harder than expected. They spent time crammed into the bunk spaces, shoulders to shoulders, to hips, to legs over knees, trying to catch sleep in between missions, how little time that was. Washington found himself in these moments more often than not, and now more than ever it seemed that touch was a thing not often disseminated. But he had it now, and he let himself have it. He let Caboose snore into the hollow of his shoulder and tuned it out as he tried to rest.

In the morning he’ll ask him what bothered him so much that he couldn’t sleep, or why he thought Wash could help. It wasn’t important now.

For now, he just tries to sleep.

Wash feels heavy.

He blinks his eyes open, the world coming to in barely-there light and soft blankets. There’s a weight over him, warm and solid. Caboose still sleeps soundly even as Wash shifts to stretch pins and needles from his left arm. The world stays still, held in a quiet balance. In it, Caboose breathes slowly and evenly against his shoulder, torso still haphazardly thrown across Wash’s chest. He’s curled his hand in a loose fist, snagging part of Wash’s shirt.

Washington sighs. There lingers a heavy, groggy feeling over his mind that he thinks he’ll have a hard time shaking, remnants of running too hard, too fast without stopping. He fought so hard only to again come up empty handed, aside from the now-bitter taste of his freedom. But for now he focuses on this moment. He rests his cheek against the top of Caboose’s head.

As he does, Caboose hums, waking enough to tense and relax again.

“Good morning, Caboose,” Wash manages tiredly, lying still. Caboose doesn’t move either, except to shift his cheek to a more comfortable position.

“Hello, Washington,” Caboose says, slow and sleep-thick but cheery. “You let me stay!”

Wash huffs out something, maybe a laugh and maybe a sigh.

“You’re surprised?” Wash asks, staring at the ceiling. It takes a minute for Caboose to answer, and in that time, Wash’s eyes shut, too heavy to hold open. Caboose draws his arm back from his chest.

“Tucker’s not very cuddly,” he says, only partially answering the question. “I can’t really judge if people will like it.”

“I take it not many do?” He asks. Caboose shrugs, somewhat stilted, speaking in that long, sighing way that he does.

“It varies.”

Wash hums.

“Right.”

In a beat of silence, Caboose unravels himself. He sits up, swaying a bit, shuffling around. It leaves a cold hollow where he used to lie, and Wash pulls his arm back from where it used to curl around him. He folds his hands over his sternum as Caboose sits up and shifts back.

“How did you sleep!” He asks, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees. Wash nods, finally blinking his eyes open.

“It was fine,” he says slowly. “How did you sleep?”

Caboose shrugs again.

“I slept okay—” he says. “You scared off all my bad dreams I think.”

Wash snorts, furrowing his eyebrows. Caboose blinks down at him with wide eyes. It’s almost catlike, the way he watches over him, like he’s waiting for Wash to reach out and force him to move out of his space. He’s still slightly blurry, courtesy of the sleep in Wash’s eyes.

“I did?” Wash asks. Caboose nods, looking sincere

“Yep.”

Wash looks away, huffing out. Something turns in his chest, warmly at that.

“Well that’s good,” he says. Caboose nods again. He’s just far enough away that in the dim lighting Washington can’t really read his face, but it seems soft and comfortable and Wash tries to remember if that’s a good thing. There’s only so many times you see someone’s face while being out in the field that you sort of just learn reactions based on tone and less on body language. After a beat, Wash says, haltingly, brain trying to find the words:

“Caboose, what… what is it that you had a nightmare about? What—why did you come to me?”

Caboose shrugs, waving his hands back and forth. He’s not looking at him.

“Oh, you know, just about Church and Epsilon, and Tex, and you, and everyone dying and exploding and dying again,” he sighs, shoulders falling, looking distinctly less bothered than Wash expects him to be. It puts something cold-to-cool in the pit of his stomach. “But it’s okay, you’re still here! And nightmares are afraid of you.”

Wash swallows.

“Oh,” he says lamely. It doesn’t feel right, all of a sudden, to just be sitting here. Caboose tilts his head at him.

“Did you have a nightmare, Agent Washington?” he asks, leaning forward a bit. He squints at him. Wash stares back, eyes wide. “You look kinda pale.”

“Um, no,” he says plainly. “No I don’t… normally dream.”

“Oh,” Caboose says. His face drops. “That sounds sad.”

Wash shakes his head.

“It’s fine.”

Caboose hums, tapping his hands on his knees.

“You can tell me if you ever have a nightmare,” he says, smiling, a pleased look crossing his face. “I can come and scare it away.”

Wash snorts, a smile creeping onto his face. He folds his hands together, tracing out the edge of his thumb with his other thumb. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks up at Caboose.

“Are you looking for an excuse to sleep next to someone?” He asks, a curious lilt to his voice. Caboose blinks, eyes falling to his hands. He shrugs.

“No…” he says. Then, “Maybe.”

“Well it…” Wash sighs, shutting his eyes again. “It was nice. Thank you, Caboose.”

“Mhm,” Caboose says sleepily.

There’s a moment of silence. Wash moves to get more comfortable, shifting back to rest his head properly on the pillows. He can feel his body sag as he does, that tired tug pulling on his shoulders and hips and eyes. He drums his fingers against his sternum, watching Caboose. Caboose’s eyes slip shut for a moment as he leans hand against his hand.

“I’m uh…going to try to get some more sleep,” he finally manages, clearing his throat. Caboose stays still, as if he’s fallen asleep again, shoulders weakly rising and falling as he breathes. “Caboose?”

There’s no answer. Caboose leans sideways as Wash goes to reach for him, folding like he’d lost all his core stability. As he crumples, he falls forward, half onto Wash in front of him, half into the bed itself.

“Caboose,” Wash tries again. Caboose doesn’t move, sinking further into his side.

Wash sighs. Caboose stays, solid and heavy and thrown over his chest. He feels like a little kid again, sharing a room with his sisters, or he feels like it’s some time back in training, both cats making their home on his chest. Caboose was kind of like a cat. If a cat were a dog, were late to the punch, were the same level as unable to catch the joke as he was. It was kind of sweet. Wash shifts him ever so slightly, until he’s leaning into his side again, head against his shoulder.

Caboose yawns, sighing out against his shoulder, shuffling to get comfortable. Wash curls his arm over his back, hand cupping around his shoulder, smoothing his thumb over the seam of his shirt. Caboose makes a little noise, a little sigh, and falls quiet. The world, too, is warm and quiet. Somewhere in that warmth, a soothing feeling washes over him.

Just a little more sleep, he thinks. Then he’ll get up.

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb caboose #agent washington #michael j caboose #rvb wash #rvb washington #rvb fic #fics #text #so for context this takes place in season 9? end of season 8 into 9 #but i'm all the way in the chorus trilogy at this point so >:3 wheheeh #BITING TUMBLR VERY HARD FOR DELETING MY FIRST DRAFT WITH ACTUAL TAGS < they saved it to the wrong blog #whatever here we go again!! i am still scared this time but myke and shepherd are holding my hands so its fine #tunastime is an rvb fan who would've thought wow #spins around so fast and falls over #i can't wait to be insane about myke's art next yippeee :3

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pearlescent-poppies · 6 months ago

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Hello!

And welcome to Day 2!!!!

Forgot to put this here yesterday but there is a playlist for the fics of this event! So you can enjoy some carefully selected songs while you read!

To preface today’s, I know I said they’d get more Christmasy as time goes on, but this is the only exception!

Anyways, pretty short message from me today! But I hope everyone enjoys (and please once again leave your thoughts with me here or on AO3):

Day 2: QPR Mumscarian, Gift Exchange

For: @starrysilv3rse

I hope you love this Silver! They’re so silly!!!!

(Fic under the cut)

Scar hums along to the Christmasy vinyl record he has playing as he stirs the pot of homemade hot chocolate on the stove. It’s Christmas Eve, and with the big celebration the hermits do every year, Mumbo, Grian, and himself have taken to celebrating a little early. Just for the three of them.

They throw on Scar’s collection of Christmas records, don their best ugly sweaters, and enjoy the company of their partners. It’s perfect and so predictable after all the years they’ve done it that it just feels all the more special. Though- he does have a bit of a surprise this time around.

———

“Scar~” Grian calls in a sing-song as he enters the train. Wings folding against his back gracefully and into a heart shape.

“Gri!” The taller exclaims, signature grin growing brighter, “How was the flight? And come in here so I can kiss you,” he chuckles.

With his own set of laughs, the avian rounds the corner and happily bounds over to Scar. He has to pause for a moment to take in the sight, the elf has always been pretty to Grian, it’s just a fact of life, but especially like this. Wearing a tacky sweater, long hair tied back into a bun with pieces left to frame his face, and his cane in hand. Sue the guy, he may be aroace but both of his partners are ridiculously attractive, he still has standards thank you. “How have the preparations been coming along? Not overworking yourself are you?” He teases.

“Oh, not anymore than usual,” Scar turns to wink. The blonde is sent into a fit of adoring giggles and he finally closes the distance to peck Scar’s lips, having to use his wings to get him a little air since his partner isn’t expecting it.

“Well hello there,” the elf says in response and pushes the pot of hot chocolate off the burner to avoid scorching. With that properly taken care of, he wraps his free arm around Grian and leans down for a more proper kiss, though not a lingering one.

“Hello Scar,” he greets in return, relaxing into the arm around his waist, “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, your stuff is all looking amayzin’ though this season!”

Grian scoffs playfully, “Says you Mr. Biome-Maker! Absolute madman. Thank you though.”

Just as they’re about to continue talking, a half crashing sound rattles through the caboose and Grian and Scar share a look. Well that could only mean one thing.

Sure enough, in comes their third. Mumbo has a Santa hat on his head and a sweater that looks like a suit. “Ack! I’m so sorry I’m late! I’m so sorry I’m late. Oh goodness, oh gosh, this is just pants,” he continues to stumble through his words.

“Mumbo! Slow down! You aren’t late, I quite literally just got here too,” Grian laughs.

“Oh! Well that’s good! Hello,” he greets after processing the avian’s words.

“Hi Mumbo,” Scar rolls his eyes fondly and lets Grian to press a kiss to Mumbo’s cheek.

Mumbo coughs violently at the action and shouts, “SCAR!”

The elf snickers, “Mumbo we’ve all been together for almost 7 years now, you should be used to a cheek kiss.”

“W-well- well-” he stutters, trying to come up with a justification. As Scar walks back into the kitchen to serve the hot chocolate and sugar cookies he’d made, Grian presses a kiss to Mumbo’s other cheek.

“You’re silly. How are you? Haven’t seen you much since Wild Life?” He questions and takes Mumbo’s hand, guiding them to sit on one of the couches.

“Good! I’ve been very good!” He says with a smile, “I’ve missed you and Scar like crazy though, honestly it’s rubbish we haven’t been spending much time together.”

“Agreed,” he sighs and melts into his partner’s side and cuddles up to him. When he looks up at Mumbo’s face, he’s wearing a slight pout, and it’s cuter than it has any right to be. He then has a moment of realisation and sits up with a groan, “We gotta put our presents under the tree,” he nods towards the aforementioned decoration.

“Nooo, but I’m comfortable,” his pout deepens playfully and he pulls Grian back against him when he’s about to stand up.

“But Muuumboo,” he huffs back and drawls with a smile visible in every inch of his face.

The vampire just laughs and kisses his cheek, “Hi Grian.”

He softens, “Hi Mumbo.” The avian wraps his wings around the two of them and lets them both indulge in the cuddles for a moment before he speaks again, “No but seriously, the walk isn’t far and Scar is gonna be in here any minute now. You don’t wanna ruin tradition, do you?” He jokes with a raised eyebrow. When Mumbo shakes his head, Grian says, “That’s what I thought.”

Really Mumbo was just being dramatic, it was about a three minute ordeal and suddenly they were back on the couch and cuddling again. The vampire even presses a kiss to Grian’s nose.

It had taken him a long time to feel comfortable just giving out affection like that, but now he does so easily. Or well- as easy as it gets with Mumbo. He still blushes every time without fail. His partners wouldn’t have him any other way though.

Soon, like Grian had said, Scar is joining them. He places a tray of cookies and three mugs on the coffee table, then joins the cuddle pile.

———

It’s a few hours later when they actually start their gift exchange, having taken the time to just catch up and laugh and simply enjoy being together like this.

Though they do get to the merrymaking: everyone has three gifts (a limit had to be put in place after they were opening gifts for what felt like hours on season 8) from each person. They have an order too, Scar, then Mumbo, then Grian. Not for any particular reason, that’s just how it’s always shaken out.

By the end, Scar has gotten a new set of paints and paint brushes, earrings and matching hair clips, an orchid (yes, a real one), a fancy watch, a snow globe with the Scarland castle in it (that brought tears), a 3d model of his train, and finally, a new Jellie plush, this time wearing his BAM outfit (Grian always gives him one as a seventh gift, no matter how many times he swears up and down it’ll be the last year).

Mumbo is given a new toolset he’d been eyeing, a new Polaroid camera, a tie blind box (it ends up being printed with cacti which sends Grian and Scar into a fit of giggles), a fidget ring set, a Grumbot alarm clock (which he loves more than anything, it’s his son, and!!!! It was programmed by Grian which got lots of love and praise), and some framed photos of the three of them to decorate Mumbo’s home in his base (which was accompanied by lots of praise for his builds this season).

Finally, Grian, had been gifted a new microphone (he’d been mentioning Ariana Griande needing to return for awhile), a set of charcoals for his drawings, a box set of his favourite fantasy book series, a couple new sets of chains for his glasses, his own mini Grumbot, figures of all of his snails, and in a play by Scar to turn the bit back at Grian, a parrot plush wearing his Bad Boy outfit (he’d complained, but he loves it with all his heart).

Now that they were sufficiently teared up and laughed out, Grian and Mumbo expected to go back to their cuddling, maybe turn off the vinyl still playing and turn on a film. But- Scar had other plans.

“Mumbo? Grian?” Scar spoke softly, fidgeting with his hands.

“Hm? What is it?” Grian asks with a birdlike tilt of his head, his little head wings following the motion, with one extending out.

“I uh, have one more present for you both. Or well- I guess it’s not really a present so to speak. Just something if you want it and,” He continues to ramble, only stopping when he’s cut off by Mumbo.

“Scar, buddy, deep breaths. You’re okay,” he assures gently, in a way it only seems he’s able to do with his partners.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” the elf murmurs and takes a couple deep breaths. Once he’s recovered, a shy smile and a pink blush covers his face, “You know I love you both so much. These last years with you guys have been the best of my life,” Grian catches on, and reaches for Mumbo’s hand, eyes wide as he listens, “I know we aren’t a romantic couple, and this is kinda one of those romantic couple things, but-,” he stands, fumbling with two things in his pockets before he gets to one knee and opens two, black velvet ring boxes, “We’ve never really cared about what others think of us, and I know I want to spend the rest of my life by your sides. All that said,” he takes a deep breath as a tear slides down his face, “Will you both marry me?”

Grian is the first to react; as he covers his mouth with his free hand and looks away, wings fluttering with the force of trying to keep himself from either dying with laughter, or crying his eyes out, maybe both. “I was gonna propose on new years,” he admits tenderly.

Scar’s jaw falls open, “No! No you weren’t,” he giggles, tears falling properly now.

This is when Mumbo finally recovers from his blue screen moment. He practically squawks at both declarations, “No way, there’s no way! Oh goodness, oh gosh! You two- I- I was planning for Valentine's Day! No, there's no way!” He repeats.

His own cheeks are bright red and he’s got this over dramatic look of flustered shock on his face. It’s more endearing than words can describe and so very Mumbo. It also serves to make both of the man’s partners pepper his face in kisses to turn him into an even bigger mess. Though Scar still stays where he is, on one knee for the loves of his life. Maybe they aren’t romantic. But love has many meanings, it is different for everyone. For them, it’s this blurred in between place of not completely platonic, not completely romantic. Something indescribable, but a collection of all of their beautiful shared feelings for each other. So Scar asks again, “Well I guess I beat you both to it! So, is that a yes?”

“Yes!” They both shout at the same time. They share a look between the three of them and start laughing again. It’s the best thing to do together after all.

After a round of teary giggles and kisses, Scar gets to slide the rings he’d chosen on his fiancé’s fingers.

The rings are the exact same, though in different metal colours. Dainty bands, with a little red ruby heart. Grian’s in gold, and Mumbo’s silver.

“It’s beautiful Scar, I love it,” Grian smiles and pulls him in for another quick cheek kiss.

Mumbo echoes his stuttered agreement, “Gosh, Scar, I mean- wow, I mean- you’re perfect- IT’S perfect, but you are too of course, and I- gosh I love you. Both of you” Scar leans in after the jumble of words to give Mumbo a couple of bunny kisses before finally settling on the couch with the both of them again.

Now it’s finally time to wind down. They pop How The Grinch Stole Christmas on the television with Frosty The Snowman, and Rudolph on deck to watch next. They eat more cookies, drink more cocoa and simply enjoy the rest of their Christmas Eve.

Brought together and relishing in this next step of their lives. It’s a moment they’ll take with them for the rest of time, basking in the knowledge that the best gifts in the world are the one’s sitting right next to them.

#Briar’s 12 Days Of Christmas #hermitcraft #mcyt #fan fiction #hermitshipblr #hermitshipping #hermitcraft season 10 #mumscarian #qpr mumscarian #grian #grian mc #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo

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jaybaumansbuzzcut · 3 months ago

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There is that episode where they get stuck on top of the mountain in the house in winter and decide that they’re all gonna fuck, and Mr plinkett is gonna be the “caboose”, and Jay just passively sits there and accepts being the bottom. That’s kinda hot.

ah yes, the daisy chain. stuff of legends.

kinda surprising that jay would just passively accept his fate as a bottom when we all know that he is clearly a top.

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charaznablescanontoyota · 8 months ago

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I'm curious about what never quite made it on screen - did you have any characters, train cars, or scenes you really had hoped made it into the show but didn't get their 5 minutes in the spotlight for whatever reason?

genuinely only a couple things either got scrapped in favor of stuff i/other players were more interested in or never got shown because they were a "i don't think the players will go this way, but just in case, if they do". the only stuff i can think off off the top of my head is stuff i've talked about in various places but just to collect it all together:

the fruits basket subplot i talked about over here

the characters some of us ALMOST played on the baseball away team (i almost played mr. spender from paranatural instead of winry, riley almost played madoka instead of luffy)

if some characters had ended up stuck in the pods during the casino steward fight they would've just gone to the caboose and seen everything in there in episode 12, which was something i was 100% prepared to happen. and then it didn't lol

teen millions knives was almost an apex member in the ruined city (i actually told the players he'd be there) and then wasn't because i didn't want to manage 5 npcs in combat

we briefly talked as a group about the party returning to the arts and crafts or fall festival car (due to train car shuffle) for downtime after the ruined city but i ended up throwing them the karaoke car instead

the casino was originally going to be "an episode where we break format and just play skull (card game)" bc i wanted the party to play a bluffing card game as sort of a character study. and then the casino uhhh expanded in size, scope, and plot relevance lol. and then we did a poker episode that was basically the original concept so everyone got the best of both worlds

oh actually here's one i don't think even the cast knows. i was originally going to put an abandoned roped off lounge with a piano in the casino car because riley at one point asked me for an opportunity for shadow to sadly play the piano. and then i think i forgot due to all the other shit that happened during casino pt 1

#interstitial infinity #infinity spoilers #interstitial spoilers

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smelly-welly69420 · 9 months ago

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introduction post yada yada welcome to my yap-sesh

It's kinda long so I put it under the cut :)

I freely block anyone who wants to come on here and be a dick. I don't need your stinky unwashed ass vibes on here

Hiii I'm Apollo!! He/she/they. I'm a lesbian but fictional men get a pass I guess. Adhd + dyscalculia (both diagnosed). I'm British cuppa tea innit luv 👹👹🇬🇧🇬🇧

I mostly just reblog things relating to things I like :)

Always got my ears on so feel free to talk in the askbox!! Drop questions or headcanons or just general conversation!! I don't bite :)

Blinkies were made by me using blinkies cafe :)

I make stimboards sometimes (pls send in requests if you have any!!)

Fandoms:

▪︎The Rocky Horror Show

▪︎Little Shop Of Horrors

▪︎Cabaret the musical

▪︎Starlight Express

▪︎CATS the musical

▪︎Dungeon Meshi

▪︎Pokemon

▪︎Undertale + Deltarune

▪︎Resident Evil 7+8

▪︎Palia

▪︎Stardew Valley

▪︎Date Everything

▪︎Beneath The Trees Where Nobody Sees

Interests and hobbies:

▪︎i'm a vinyl and cd collector!!

▪︎i also collect pokemon tcg

▪︎dentistry (especially all the tools and equipment!! I like learning about them :3)

▪︎CB radios and the associated slang (the pink blinkies are cb slang!!)

▪︎zoology (animals)

▪︎entomology (insects)

▪︎death and the general macabre and grotesque :)) I'm a vulture culture enthusiast. I love all sort of gothic oddities

▪︎trains :D

My selfships (a whole ass 9 of them) (I'm a sharer!!) (I keep these tags separate from the character's main tags which I use for non-selfship posts about them):

▪︎riff raff 🖤🕯 (Riff Raff from The Rocky Horror Show) (he's my primary f/o!!)

▪︎orin 🦷🩸 (Orin Scrivello from Little Shop Of Horrors)

▪︎skimble 🐱🚂 (Skimbleshanks from Cats)

▪︎bv 💰💥 (BV The Brake Van / post 2018 Caboose from Starlight Express)

▪︎salvatore 🐟🦴 (Salvatore Moreau from Resident Evil: Village)

▪︎shane 💜🐣 (Shane from Stardew Valley)

▪︎holm 💧🧡 (Holm Kranom from Dungeon Meshi)

▪︎otto 🤎🇧🇪 (Otto from Beneath The Trees Where Nobody Sees)

▪︎lux 🌤🦋 (Mr Ring A Ding / Lux Imperator from Doctor Who)

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frootloopscos · 1 year ago

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An Accident?!

After a while playtime was over for the little gremlins. (Y/N) sighed before clapping their hands together twice, "alright kiddos, Mr. Trein says it's time for lunch!" They said with a smile, "everyone line up at the sink so we can wash our hands and then eat!" The kids smiled, quickly running over to the sink in the countertop. (Y/N) walked over and helped them all wash their hands while singing the ABCs song.

Once every kid has their hands washed they all lined up at the door as (Y/N) and Trein grabbed their lunchboxes from the mini fridge. "To the lunchroom. Show Mx. (Y/N) where it is." Trein said to the kids, Sebek looked at (Y/N) with a small glare before suddenly grabbing their hand. "I'll lead you to the lunchroom human!" He said, being the caboose had its perks for the little half-fae. (Y/N) smiled, "thank you so much bud." They said as Ace began to lead everyone to the lunchroom.

The lunchroom was a decent size for a daycare, there were many kids that (Y/N) thought were interesting. Sebek tugged on their hand leading them over to a table. "Woah! Okay bud." They said following him and letting him sit down. "Mx. (Y/N)! This is Waka-Sama!" He said pointing at a young boy with horns on his head, he looked much older than Sebek. Maybe a middle schooler? "It's lovely to meet you Mx. (Y/N), my name is Malleus Dracona." The boy said, the enby smiled, "hello Malleus, Sebek I'll be back okay? I have to help Mr. Trein hand out the lunchboxes." They said handing the young boy his lunchbox before going around and helping the Trein hand out the other lunchboxes.

Once all of them were handed out, (Y/N) went back over to Sebek. "Hey bud I'm back." They said bending to his height. "Mx. (Y/N)! Sit down with us!" He yelled pointing to the seat next to a boy who looked a few years older than Sebek, "Sit next to Silver!" He said with a smile. (Y/N) nods and sits down, "it's nice to meet you all." They said looking at the group of three.

TIMESKIP

Lunch came and went rather quickly, after lunch the kids line up at the door, an attendant walked over and clapped his hands. "Stay pups! Single file line as we go outside." He said before leading them all out of the lunchroom and onto the playground outside. (Y/N) followed with a smile, wondering how their kids would play with the older kids.

The attendant from before, rather attractive with dual colored hair, half buzzed on one side and the other looked almost like a bob from a certain angle. Oh boy those eyes though. (Y/N) shook their head to rid the thoughts they were having before going up to the attendant. "Hello there, my name is (Y/N) (L/N), the new hire here." They said with a soft smile. The attendant looked over and nodded "Divus Crewel, a pleasure, I hope the pups haven't been causing you any trouble yet? You will be helping me tomorrow."

(Y/N) shook their head, "no no, they aren't causing any trouble, one small fight but I have a plan to fix the issue the kiddos had." Crewel nods at their words, "good."

After a bit of the kids playing outside the bell rang signaling them to all line up to be taken inside. It was then that (Y/N) noticed a certain duo for the class they were helping was gone. Going over to Trein they tapped his shoulder, "Ace and Deuce seem to be missing from the group, would you like me to look for them?" They asked him, the male nods, "that would be much appreciated thank you." (Y/N) nods and leaves the group to search for the little troublemakers.

Luckily, it didn't take long to find them, hiding together and giggling inside of the spinny slide. "Ace, Deuce, it's time to go inside." (Y/N) said to the duo, "NO!" Ace yelled, "I don't wanna go back inside! Nuh uh!" Deuce looked to the redhead with furrowed brows, "but we have to, it's the rules." He mumbled, Ace just stuck his tongue out at his friend and slid down the slide to run away. "Ace!" (Y/N) yelled in worry as they watched the boy begin to run away before he tripped over the short plastic barrier surrounding the play area. Ace began to cry as he held his knee, Deuce scurried out of the slide and ran towards his friend with (Y/N). The adult knelt down to the child's height, "let me see it bud," they said softly and inhaled though their teeth seeing the injury on the boy.

"Alright kiddo, I'm going to pick you up okay? I'll carry you inside so Mr. Trein can help you get patched up." They said before gently picking up the crying child (haha crying child) and carrying them inside like they said they would. Walking to the classroom with Deuce holding onto the back of their shirt. Upon entering, all eyes were on them, the kids quickly began to crowd around the small group. "Children enough, it's map time please go lay down." Trein said as he walked over to (Y/N).

The kids quickly dispersed themselves into their nap area, grabbing blankets and pillows before making themselves comfortable. Meanwhile Trein helped (Y/N) take care of ascend scraped knee's, Deuce adamant in staying by his friend's side before he would lay down for a nap. Trein didn't want to use any magic to heal the knee's because of his parents not wanting magic to be used on Ace without them present. Ace told both caretakers he was okay before he and deuce weee allowed to lay down with the other kids.

——————

Hellooooo! Sorry I've been gone for a long time again guys 😭

Word count: 993

Published to wattpad: Aug. 29th, 2023

Published to tumblr: Feb. 1st, 2024

Edited: N/A

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