Wrenalt - Wels - Tumblr Blog

everyone knows scar is a vex hybrid and that vex are basically just particularly mischievous fae, and part of the whole being a fae thing means gift giving and taking care of others is a very very important way to show love. with the more lavish and expensive and pretty the gift the more romantic intentions behind it. cue bdubs getting mysteriously getting shulkers upon shulkers full of golden carrots, diamonds, flowers he's never even seen before, ornate clocks, and all other manner of things. he has no clue what's going on or why it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside nor does he have any clue as to why scar looks like he's going insane when bdubs talks about his "secret admirer" or why scar is so invested in what they brought him. eventually cub had to step in, after all he can only watch his fellow vex and business partner suffer for so long. he sits bdubs down and gives him a little lesson on vex culture, and suddenly everything makes sense and he feels like an idiot. well no better time than the present to fix such a misunderstanding especially since he very much does reciprocate the feelings. cut to bdubs buying scar the most beautiful, ornate, expensive, matching earring, necklace, and hair piece set he could find to fit just how he felt about scar. let's just say no one has ever seen scar blush harder.

They end up not being able to talk to each other until one of them works up the nerve to kiss the other

"it's the grian dreamslayer map" "ohhh my god"

in case anyone didnt catch it in grians recent episodes, there used to be a mumbo mustache deep inside The Rift

key words here being, “used to”

i know people have been making the jokes about “Grian opened The Rift in order to get Mumbo back in Hermitcraft, only to bring in one thats distinctively Not The Same Mumbo” for funsies, but. the rift isnt the only mumbo related thing thats changed since his return…

I watched xB for the UHC. I did not watch Joe Hills. and yet. and yet.......

Trying to start an #ethosupport chain on twt if anyone is willing to help out!! https://twitter.com/dragonheart2497/status/1501542396328296449?s=20&t=hS6XuKR2ktLAD_idW6jzhw

PHIL TELLING HIS TEAM TO AVOID GRIAN AT ALL COSTS BECAUSE HE’S A TEAM ALL ONTO HIMSELF

Joe, looking at an End Gateway: "I gotta say, one of my favourite things about the end is these mirrors, y'know? Most mirrors don't really capture what I feel is like, my true essence. But when I look into these mirrors I'm like.... yeah. That's Joe Hills! Anyway, can't be too narcissistic in this recording--"

joe i spend so long thinking u should be the one normal human on hermitcraft and you say THIS?

Reblog if you honestly have NEVER sent anon hate.

It pains me that only 14,000 people can honestly reblog this

i just realised my "plush doll possessed by a watcher" design for grian kind of implies that he wouldve been like. a regular guy once? which has angst potential but im just gonna clown on him dgKMGk

The Hermitcraft tarot card deck I did a few months ago! I am really proud of these so I’ve decided these are gonna be the first ones to make it into tumblr :D

Etho, as an arctic fox hybrid, screams at the person he likes romantically.

Bdubs, as an oblivious dumbass (affectionate), wonders why Etho always seems so excited to see him.

(The other hermits are watching and laughing at Ethos’s plight. Maybe one day they’ll clue Bdubs in. Maybe.)

They probably won’t, though it seems to have increased in volume, because the screams seem to happen way to often and wait did Bdubs just scream back, they take a quick glance at Etho and see how flustered he is

Doc x Reader x Bdubs where reader has a bad day and just needs some comfort and they take care of her, pretty please? Whatever you want to add, I just love these two <3

I had fun with this! Lots of fun.

Warning: One animal death, light swearing, and some non-s*xual bathing

Just not your day

Doc x Reader x Bdubs

You had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. LITTERALLY. You usually had Bdubs on your left side, with Doc on your right, but Bdubs had gotten up before you. So, you’d gotten up on the left side, not the right, which led you to promptly trip over the clothing Bdubs had dropped on the floor. Limping into the bathroom with your now carpet burned knee, you grabbed your toothpaste you share with Bdubs only to find it empty. Grimacing, you pulled out the cinnamon toothpaste from Doc’s basket. Gross.

Plodding downstairs with your now slightly stinging mouth (how Doc used that garbage you’d never understand) you set about making breakfast. A loud squawk come from the backyard, and you ran out in time to see a fox dragging away one of your chickens, already dead. Trying not to cry you turned and went back in to find your breakfast smoking in the pan. Distracted you’d turned the knob on the stove the wrong way and now had a black breakfast to show for it. After fixing that mess you decided that you’d just order breakfast somewhere.

Stress had caught you on the path and invited you to join her on her patio for breakfast, sympathizing with the rough morning you’d had. At least you had something in your stomach now. And Stress could brighten anybody’s mood.

And then it got worse; from falling into a huge patch of sweet berries, getting shot at by a random drown in an underground lake, a zombie busting your lip open with a random chunk of cobblestone as it flailed about try to eat you, to your backpack getting caught on a hunk of dripstone and ripping open spilling your stuff everywhere (you never did find your damn lunchbox. Four days later it would show back up with Ren after he found a zombie walking around with it.) You forgot your wallet, you couldn’t find any diamonds in the caves, and then to end The Worst Fucking Day Ever (trademark pending), Jeven fell on you. Now neither of you were hurt per say, with him being a slime hybrid and all, but phasing through his body left you wet, cold, and miserable. And you broke down. There were cries of “GET DOC!” and “WHERE’S BDUBS?”. Hands rubbed you with towels to dry you off, but you just wanted to go home.

Strong arms picked you up. You buried your face in the soft fluff that had been rubbing your cheek. Doc. It was Doc. His long stride carried you home quickly.

Once home you found yourself surrounded by a sweet smell as Doc stripped of your now sticky clothing, and you were lowered into a warm- Oh it was a warm bath. Bdubs was perched on the sink, having run ahead to fill the tub, watching worriedly. He spoke first. “So, what happened? You want to talk about it?” you nodded as Doc grabbed a bottle of shampoo to start cleaning the slime out of your hair. As Doc scrubbed you recounted the day you’d had, pausing only when Doc instructed you to lean your head back to rinse out the shampoo. After slathering your head with conditioner, Doc lovingly scrubbed the leftover slime from your face and body. Standing you up Doc used the showerhead to rinse you off, before wrapping you in a fluffy towel and roughly drying your still dripping hair. Helping you into one of Bdubs’ shirts, and a comfy pair of shorts, Doc picked you up bridal style again and carried you to the bed. There dinner was waiting. Bdubs was grinning. “Well, breakfast in bed is a thing, so why not shake it up and have dinner in bed?” You smiled as your mouth watered. You reached for your fork only to have it plucked out of your grasp. Doc rested his hand on the pillow behind you as he offered you a bite to eat. “Nein pet, let me baby you.” Flushing you allowed yourself to be fed, meanwhile Bdubs had decided his baby’s tootsies need to be massaged. After all it was such a bad day.

By time dinner was done you were yawning. You spoke up. “I feel silly. I started crying over some stupid stuff, huh?” Doc shook his head as Bdubs frowned. “Sweetness, little things can build up you know. Now shreep....things will be better in the morning.” You fell asleep with Bdubs snuggled up against your back, nose buried in your hair and Doc’s lips pressed against your forehead, as Doc sang softly......

Honey, you are my shining star Don't you go away Wanna be right here where you are until my dying day

s

scar.......mr capitalist man

-👑

‧₊ THEY SAY THE BEST THINGS ARE FREE

PAIRING: C!GoodTimesWithScar x GN!Reader

 SYNOPSIS: (Modern AU) You’re an up-and-coming designer, he’s a billionaire playboy with a taste for expensive clothing. Could I make it any more obvious?

WARNINGS: Fluff and angst (with a happy ending), self-doubt, very mild language

A/N: You can have a little capitalism, as a treat. I may have, perhaps, gone a little overboard with this fic. Also, fun fact- I listened to Money by That Poppy and Malibu 1992 by COIN on loop while writing this. The vibes? Immaculate. 

You considered money a... funny thing. The wealthy seemed to only get wealthier, while the poor, poorer.

To you, It was a virus, wrapping thick green roots all over people’s lives and digging in until there was nothing else left for it to take. Once a person had gotten a taste of wealth, of abundance, it was impossible for them to go back. Impossible for them to stop themselves from digging deeper and deeper into a pit of debt and desperation as they chased that ‘big break’, that pipe dream of having everything they could ever possibly want.

You had watched your parents be destroyed by it, sacrificing their dreams to take care of you. You had watched them give up so many things for you, working from sunup to sundown to scrape together enough finances to get you through school and into a prestigious design college.

You loved them all the more for doing so, you really did, but because of it, you found yourself slightly resentful of the people born into luxury. The people who didn’t have to choose between good housing or a good education. Of course, you couldn’t blame them for existing, exactly, but the constant interaction you had with them certainly didn’t help.

As one of the highest-marking graduates from your college, you were immediately hired by Gorgeous Inc., a custom clothing company whose services were among the best in the business. Their clientele list was a constantly rotating roster of celebrities, millionaires, and influencers that had all collectively decided to throw their money at an outfit they would wear only once.

The first few months on the job had been hell if you were being honest. You had started out as an assistant to one of the top clothiers, shuttling fitting supplies to and from appointments and trying not to piss off any of the customers too much. 

Despite your best efforts, even when you weren’t the one saddled with the undivided attention of whatever trophy wife had booked a session that day, you still had to deal with plenty of tantrums. It seemed like none of these people had ever been taught how to behave when things didn’t go their way, even going so far as to smash the beautiful (and expensive) champagne glasses the company had custom-made on the ground in a fit of rage. So, yeah, your opinion had some real-world experience to back it up- especially when you considered that that wasn’t even the worst you had seen. 

Eventually, you managed to work your way up the company hierarchy. You had never cared much for office politics and hadn’t done nearly as much kissing up to your bosses as some of your colleagues, but when clients started to become more and more interested in your work specifically- well, it was in Gorgeous Inc.’s best interest to promote you.

Of course, with your promotion to managing long-term customers, it was inevitable that you would run into him. Scar Goodtimes, the CEO of ConCorp Enterprises. 

Known for his love of couture clothing, and his even greater love for his cat Jellie, Scar was one of the most prominent figures in the upper circle- part of a highly exclusive group of the egregiously rich known as ‘the Hermits’. (Everyone wanted to be a member, nobody could afford it)

With fame comes plenty of gossip. You’d heard plenty of things about him in passing, but the thing that stuck out the most in your head was his status as the upper echelon’s ‘most eligible bachelor’. Despite his great fortune, the man had never married- stringing his starry-eyed admirers along with as much effort as batting an eye.

You weren’t about to lie and say you weren’t slightly apprehensive when his secretary had reached out to schedule an appointment with you. After all, if the people you had to deal with so far were merely ants compared to him, you could only assume that his behavior would be much worse. 

With every scrap of professionalism you had left in your body, you made the promise to yourself that you would give him nothing- no reason to possibly blow up on you. You were going to be the best Prime-damned consultant he had ever met.

Naturally, your whole plan fell apart as soon as you set foot into the room you had booked for your first meeting. As with all of Gorgeous Inc.’s fitting rooms, the decoration was opulent, yet tasteful. Your shoes sank into the plush carpet as you approached the sitting area near the center of the space, several soft-looking armchairs arranged in a staggered circle around a mahogany table.

You were early, as you always were, taking the extra time to set up for Scar’s- Mojang above, you still couldn’t quite believe you were fitting him- appointment. With an ease that only came from months of practice, you laid out the binder filled with fabric swatches and clothing designs that you never seemed to part with. The object was barely even able to close with how many ideas you had managed to stuff in it, and it was a miracle that it hadn’t exploded and sent paper flying everywhere already.

You jolted when the door opened, recovering almost immediately and turning with a polite smile towards the person who sauntered in. Your customer-service façade faltered as your eyes met his, every thought fleeing from your head as your breath hitched in your throat. 

Oh no, he’s hot. 

You had always been skeptical of how much the billionaire’s looks had been played up, but meeting him face-to-face wiped any and all doubt from your mind. His eyes, a stunning shade of green that reminded you of emeralds or lush rainforest foliage, glittered with an almost curious gleam as they pinned you in place. With inhumanly soft-looking hair and the barest hint of stubble brushed along his jaw, he radiated a confidence that sucked the air out of the room.

What parts of your brain were still functioning had the good grace to remember to shake his hand as he offered it to you, desperately scrambling to regain your composure. You were somewhat successful, gaining enough conscientiousness to introduce yourself with a pleasant incline of your chin.

“I’ll be excited to see what wardrobe we can come up for you,” you said, keeping your tone even and polite to disguise any residual panic that might slip in. You had to physically stop yourself from tensing as he chuckled, breaking eye contact with you for the first time since he entered to glance around the room.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?”

It was easier to ignore Scar’s… intense… presence when you were able to slip into the grove of your work, your smile becoming more and more genuine as you went through the design process. You were pleasantly surprised by just how knowledgeable the brunette was when it came to fabrics and composition, able to release some of the tension in your body when you realized that you wouldn’t have to talk him down from any impossible requests.

Of course, all of that stress came piling back on your shoulders the minute you had to take his measurements. You had never really thought about just how much you had to touch people in your line of work, but now you were painfully aware of every centimeter of your body that touched his, warmth leeching through the layers of his suit into the air between you.

Your hands were steady as they wound the tape measure around Scar’s torso, but internally you were freaking out. Every time you had to lean into his personal space, you were praying that he couldn’t feel how hard your heart was beating from the proximity. 

It certainly didn’t help that his eyes seemed to be boring holes into your back as you moved around, tracking you as a predator would prey. It was so disquieting, in fact, that you tripped on the coffee table and went tumbling into his chest. Scar’s hands flew to your waist, steadying you as you regained your balance. You took a moment to process what had just happened, your mind blue-screening, oblivious to the way the billionaire’s hands curled into the material of your shirt.

“I am so sorry, sir,” you rushed out, stepping out of his hold and smoothing over the black turtleneck you wore as part of your uniform. He let go slowly, almost reluctantly, a strange expression flashing across his face before it smoothed back into neutrality. “It was an accident- I didn’t mean to crash into you like that.”

Scar waved you off, a dangerous gleam in his eyes that only added to the embarrassed flush that was working its way onto your face. “It’s fine, really. We all make mistakes.”

You finished what was left of the session in a rush, the feeling of eyes on you only adding to your haste to get out the door. You were certain that you would be fired as his consultant, what with all the mistakes you had made, but after a full day of nerve-wracking radio silence, you finally received a message:

‘When can you schedule another meeting?’

So, from then onwards you were subjected to a series of events that made you question your own reality. You were hired on as Scar’s permanent liaison to the company, working with him on any and all of the clothing pieces he commissioned and seeing them through every step of production. It was quite the step up for you- under normal circumstances, it would take people in your position several more years to directly work under someone as influential as the CEO.

Meetings with Scar were surprisingly… pleasant, almost. The man was infinitely patient where others were not, and knowledgeable about your line of work, so the weirdness of his behavior wasn’t necessarily in regards to that. No, it was completely different from anything you had experienced before.

Scar was polite, far more polite than any other person of his status you had ever met. He insisted on opening the door for you wherever you went, waving your protests that it was supposed to be your job to do that for him off with a wink and a grin. On more than one occasion he arranged for food to be brought in for the both of you while you did your work, warmth spreading through your body whenever your hands accidentally brushed while looking through papers.

The man also happened to have very little concept of ‘appropriate spending’. As you had learned through articles and your own time with him, Scar had inherited Concorp from his uncle, and had enjoyed money and power throughout his entire life. Things that seemed egregiously expensive to you, he would buy without a second thought.

One day, without any prompting or warning, he presented you with a pair of brand new fabric shears because ‘it looked like the old ones were getting a little dull’. They were quite obviously hand-crafted, with glossy silver blades and a handle carved with a design like clouds.

“S-sir!” you squeaked, your feet rooted to the floor. You were unable to get your body to do something, anything, other to stare slack-jawed at the gift in the brunette’s hands with a mixture of trepidation and awe. “I can’t possibly accept something like that!”

Scar chuckled, a fond smile dimpling his cheeks as he shoved the box into your awaiting hands. “You’re too sweet, sugar. I’ve already bought ‘em, and it would be a real waste if you didn’t use them. What would I do with something like these?”

He waved his arms around emphatically, earning a small giggle from you. “I would have no clue what to do with them at all! It’s better for both of us, really.”

You sighed in defeat, pointedly ignoring the triumphant expression on the billionaire’s face as you tucked the box carefully beside your other supplies. “I guess you’re right, sir. Thank you.”

“Hey- haven’t I told you a million times before to just call me by my name? ‘Sir’ makes me sound... old.”

“Sure it does, sir.”

“Hey!”

You found yourself looking forwards to your meetings with the man, your professional smile slowly turning more real as he cracked joke after joke. It was hard for you to justify the excitement you felt as the appointments drew ever nearer as enthusiasm for a new project, sometimes even cutting short previous appointments to spend just a few more minutes in his enthralling presence.

The man was like a star, effortlessly pulling you and so many others into his orbit with every smile, every little moment that he looked at you like you were somebody worth listening to. It was so, stupid. So, so stupid of you to allow yourself to drop that shield of professionalism that had protected you time and time again. To let yourself befriend the man. To believe that he cared about you at all.

You had seen his type before. A rich man charming his way into someone’s life with lavish presents and pretty words, only to discard them like a child would a toy. A rich man blowing into your life in a whirlwind of laughter and light touches, only to storm out just as quickly. A heartbreak waiting to happen.

Despite how much it hurt, many nights spent biting back tears all over him, it was best for you to take a step back. Distance yourself a little. Rebuild the heavy brick walls around yourself that he had managed to charm his way past, and keep him out for good this time.

Bit by bit, you started to pull away from him. Your meetings which were once filled with amicable and easy-flowing conversation had shifted in tone dramatically. Your replies to anything he said or asked were polite, yes, but clipped, nipping any possible small talk in the bud. You fully resigned yourself to the role of ‘distant but helpful assistant’, shoving the parts of you that had laughed at his jokes into the deepest recesses of your mind. 

You weren’t here to play, anymore- not when you had wasted so much time pining over a man who could never love you like you wanted him to.

It was clear that Scar noticed the absence of your comforting presence by his side, a hollow space where you once stood. You caught the glances he sent your way when you weren’t looking, an expression that looked suspiciously like hurt flickering through his eyes (although you knew better than to believe that he could possibly be worried about you).

It shouldn’t have been as big a surprise as it was when the presents started rolling in in earnest. 

It seemed like every other day a new package or trinket was innocently sitting on your desk whenever you arrived at work, always accompanied with a small note from the billionaire who (most likely) had no idea about the butterflies that spawned in your stomach just from seeing him, hearing his voice. You had saved every single one, ignoring the pang in your heart whenever you caught a glimpse of his chicken-scratch handwriting out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey.”

You jolted in your seat, a nauseating mix of butterflies and dread stirring in your stomach. That voice- a light timbre that you equally adored and feared- could only belong to one person, the last person you wanted to see right now. You twisted around to see Scar leaning against the doorway, hands tucked into the pockets of a pair of maroon corduroy pants that you had designed. “Um, hi?”

He shot you a grin (your heart skipping a beat), tilting his head to the side in a dog-like, but still so distinctly Scar, manner before stepping into your office. He rounded your desk, planting his arms against the smooth wood and staring down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes- fern green seeming to see straight into your soul. You hesitantly folded your hands in your lap, praying to Prime above that he couldn’t see the tremor in them, and arranged your features into the most neutral look you could. “Can I... help you?”

He blinked as if snapping out of some sort of trance, and shook his head to reorder his thoughts. “Yes, actually. Did you- did you like the glasses I sent you?”

Oh, the glasses. You had mentioned off-handedly one day that you were having problems with the sun getting in your eyes when you were driving, an annual issue that came with Daylight Savings. You should have known by now not to give the man any ideas, because barely twenty-four hours later and a brand new pair of Iskallium Premier sunglasses was waiting for you on your desk. Iskallium Premier, as in the number one couture glasses brand in Java.

You bit your lip, only just missing how Scar’s eyes flickered down to your mouth, and repressed the urge to slam your head against your office furniture.

“Yes, actually. I, uh, I appreciate the gesture, but…” you sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You did not want to do this confrontation. “I can’t take this.”

“Nonsense,” Scar said, mercifully leaning out of your space. “I ordered it directly from Iskall himself, just for you.”

Prime above, sometimes you forgot this man was just as, if not more, stubborn than you when he wanted to be. Unfortunately for him, this was not an argument he was going to win.

“No, sir- I genuinely cannot accept this. I know you mean the best, but you should just give these to one of your other employees. Not me.”

For the first time since you’d met him, Scar looked genuinely lost, brow furrowed and lips parted in surprise as he stared, wide-eyed, down at you. Despite your inner turmoil, your face was a mask of ice and marble as you met his gaze. You were not budging.

Scar shut his jaw with an audible ‘click’ after a moment of tense silence, still not breaking eye contact with you as he took a step back from the desk, furthering the distance between the both of you.

“Are you sure?” he said, searching your expression for any hesitation, but coming up empty. You fisted your hands, straightening your spine as much as you could to meet him head-on.

“Of course, sir.”

He exhaled slowly, face closing in a way that felt almost disappointed as he pulled away. Saying his goodbyes, the brunette took one more look over his shoulder before sweeping out of the room.

You locked your office the minute the sound of his footsteps faded away, curling up into a ball against the door and sobbing. You felt like glass, splintering into a million tiny fragments that could never be repaired. You felt like you were drowning, unable to breathe under the weight of your own emotions.

You had pushed Scar away to keep yourself from getting hurt, but every day you were with him but not with him, you were bleeding out from where you carved your heart out and handed it to him. 

You called in sick after you managed to drag yourself home, clutching your phone in shaky fingers from where you were huddled under your blankets. You could only hope you had hidden the sound of your sniffles well enough- Mojang knows how fast gossip spreads through the corporate chain. At least you wouldn’t have to contact Scar (you refused to acknowledge how you almost started to cry just thinking about him)- your boss would do that for you. 

The next few hours were spent wallowing in your own despair, eating straight from the ice cream carton, and watching whatever cheap rom-com movies you could find on television. Oh, if only your parents could see their pride and joy now- reduced to a teary, sensitive mess, all because you fell in love with a man who had never known a second of your struggles.

You fell asleep to the quiet murmur of the TV speakers, surrounded by tissues and an empty box of chocolates you had bought for yourself after valentine’s day.

The second day wasn’t any better than the first. You barely managed to force yourself into the shower before you collapsed back into bed, staring up at the ceiling. Now that you had no more tears left to cry, you were just… numb. Your chest ached, a hollowness that threatened to consume you radiating through your body.

You could only blink as knocking rang through your apartment, lazily flopping the arm you had thrown over your eyes to the side to stare blankly at the door. You were roused from your lethargy when whoever outside knocked again, this time with so much force they were practically banging on the cheap wood.

Calling out for them to ‘Give you a second’, you shuffled over and swung open the door to come face-to-face with sharp green eyes, soft brown hair, and a face lined with worry.

Oh.

Oh no.

“S-Sir?” you said, suddenly very conscious of just how much of a mess you were. Your eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red, a clear sign that you had been crying, and the oversized shirt you had been wearing as pajamas was rumpled and covered in tear stains.

“Can I come in?” he asked, and you suddenly noticed just how out of breath he was- as if he has run a marathon before he stopped at your apartment. His chest was heaving under the silk button-down shirt he wore, his normal suit jacket tucked under one arm and his hair sticking out at all angles. Your fingers twitched. You wanted to touch it.

Instinctively, you stepped to the side, allowing what could arguably be the source of all your problems to enter your home without any fuss. You played with your hands, self-conscious as Scar took in your living space for the first time.

Your apartment was small, with plain cream walls and slightly ratty carpeting. You had tried your best to brighten up the space with colorful window curtains and a few pieces of art you had gotten on sale, but it was hard to look past the cracking in the plaster ceiling, or the way floorboards creaked with every step.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted, unable to stew in silence as he inspected the room any longer. Scar jumped, unprepared for the sudden disturbance of his thoughts, but shook the surprise off in record time. He spun on his heel, crossing the space between you and gently grasping your upper arms. Your breath hitched as his face drew inches from your own, the brunette’s eyes burning into your own.

“I was worried,” he murmured, voice cracking slightly. “They told me you were sick, and you weren’t answering your phone when I texted or called, and-” he cut himself off, turning his face away with a sharp exhale.

Your gaze wandered to where your phone was splayed across the couch, and you winced. You had been too distraught to consider charging it, and it was clear that it had died right before Scar tried to contact you.

Scar looked back up at you, something so vulnerable in his eyes that it threatened to make your throat close up. “I asked around and they told me you were crying, and when I look at you I can see that it’s true. What happened, sweetheart? Who hurt you?”

He was so genuine, so sweet in tone and touch, that it shattered what little self-control you had regained.

“Why do you care, Scar?” you cried, wrenching your arms out of his grip as fresh tears dripped down your face. The billionaire’s face went slack, shock spreading across his features as you curled into yourself. “Why do you care? I’m your assistant, for Mojang’s sake! You don’t have to worry about me- I’m just another person on your payroll.”

Scar’s face crumpled. “I care,” he said, stepping forwards to cup your face in his hands. “Because I am in love with you.”

You stopped breathing.

“What?”

“I am in love with you,” Scar repeated, thumb swiping at your cheek in a gentle motion. “Prime- I think I always have been. When I first saw you, I could hardly take my eyes off of you. I knew that you would be someone I would want to cherish for the rest of my life.”

You screwed your eyes shut, allowing yourself to be tucked into his arms. Squeezing your arms shut, you finally allowed yourself to admit what had been tearing you up inside all along: “You asked me who hurt me. It was you.”

The arms encircling you tightened, the man holding you releasing a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Is that what-? I- oh gods. I’m so sorry, love. I never meant- I didn’t want-”

You tightened the grip you had on his shirt, effectively shutting Scar up as you pulled him as close as you could possibly get. “It’s okay now. You’re here, and that’s all that really matters.”

You could figure everything- the forced distance, your tangled feelings, your guilt- out later. For now, you were content to hold one another as you finally released every single emotion you had bottled up over the months you had broken your hearts over one another. 

You would be okay, because, in a world where money rules all, you gave your hearts away free of charge.

4 minutes of Etho having ✨attachment issues✨(???) ft. Team Canada, enjoy!

Friendship :’]

The fox and the hound, tales as old as time.

or something like that anyways here's a bout of hyperfixiation for @hermitshiprarepairweek Ren/Etho

a compilation of traditional team canada stuff ive done in a span of 3 weeks

you can see how normal i am

this was posted so yall could see how normal i am

wings and back muscles practice

i have room in my brain for 1 rendog doodle. go

These are the only doodles I have for the new hels x thing, gonna draw him soon :)

mumscarian... crime au... fluffy... headcanons... need... more... please...? °-°

pfff, sure thing! :D

- scar and mumbo quickly discover that they should not give grian caffeine under any circumstances

- the first (and only time) grian had caffeine, he was all over the place. it was wild. grian would not leave either of them alone, and he was super hyper

- also the three of them all have little mementos of one another. scar's got a red feather for grian and a personalized fountain pen that mumbo got him years ago. grian's got mumbo's tie and a suit jacket that he stole from scar. mumbo's got a pocket watch that scar gave him once with personal engravings, and a bird shaped pin from grian

- also scar will absolutely show grian and mumbo off at meetings. mumbo not as much because he works better if people generally don't know who he is/his existence, but grian?? follows him like a lost puppy, and will stand at scar's side with scar's arm wrapped around his waist

- scar likes to give grian and mumbo little gifts. it's nothing big or extravagant since that makes the both of them uncomfortable, so it's small things

- mumbo's got a little garden that he tends to, and grian and scar are working on adding a little pond to it. they like to hang around and "bother" mumbo while he works on it

- more often than not, grian will rope mumbo into pranking scar

- grian's got a huuuge sweet tooth, scar is the first to learn this. mumbo finds out by accident. he gets him a lil treat after a stressful job and grian's face absolutely lights up. mumbo totally commits the scene to memory and makes sure to get grian sweets more often

The Jingler revealed!

Cub: Yeah, go ahead, Jev, yeah. Jevin: Were you... the Jingler? Scar: *snickers* Cub: Jingler? ...hmmmm... Impulse: Was that... Season six--? Cub: Yeaaaaah, it was me. Scar: OH MY-- Jevin: I knew it Impulse: WHAT? Scar: --GOSH HE ADMITTED IT Jevin: I knew it! Impulse: WHAT?? Cub: *laughing* Scar: Hold on, I gotta go send a message to Grian. Be right back-- Impulse: No way... Jevin: I knew it. Cub: It was me, it was me the whole time. Impulse: After all these years... You finally admit it. Cub: Yup. Impulse: Wow...

Joked about breast window

Actually kinda dig the idea

He can now become Raiden Shogun