Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grian loved Gaile with all his heart.

He did. She brightened up everyone’s day, even the Hermits that didn’t want her on the server at first; she helped him through low moments when he couldn’t get through them himself; and most importantly, she was simply downright cute.

So it was really fortunate she had all those things going for her as she sat proudly atop Grian’s now destroyed wing preening machine. It had scratch marks and burn scorches and even missing pieces of redstone. Yep. Remember the adorableness. Remember the adorableness.

“Now what am I supposed to do?” Grian huffed to the room, hoping his frustration would somehow be understood by his beloved pet dragon. When she only warbled happily in response, Grian groaned and began rubbing the back of his neck.

He would need to find Mumbo rather quickly. Grian couldn’t go much longer without a proper preen session and also not have any consequences. He wasn’t sure if his wings could get infected with the whole, erm, God thing going on, but considering how easy it was for a wing infection to turn into wing removal, he figured he probably shouldn’t try his luck on that one.

Grian had a bad habit of, not not taking care of his wings per se, but definitely waiting until the last minute possible to clean everything up. One of the first things he asked Mumbo for in Season 6 was a machine that could clean his wings after his friend nearly walked in on him painstakingly trying to meticulously bend over backward to do it himself. Thankfully, Grian was able to shut the door quickly enough before Mumbo saw the purple feathers, but there was no avoiding Mumbo being made aware of the whole “twisting like a pretzel to clean the limbs on his back” problem.

Mumbo shyly offered to help preen from the other side of the door if Grian would be okay with that, and Grian promptly came up with some random excuse about how touching a hybrid’s wings was very special and a big sign of devotion and whatnot. While Grian trusted Mumbo very deeply, he couldn’t bring himself to let anyone, not even a trusted friend, touch his wings. Mumbo was very understanding, but still wanted to help, and when Grian suggested the idea of a machine that could do the job, Mumbo was practically instantaneous with results.

Alas, that machine apparently didn’t mix well with hyperactive baby dragons.

Welp, no time like the present to get things done. As he began walking outside, Gaile chirped and attempted to follow. “Nope, nuh-uh, you don’t get to join me. I don’t like you right now,” he said while grabbing her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, setting her down in her bed on the table. Once the message got across to her and she curled up with a yawn, Grian felt safe enough to leave his house without a plus one joining him.

He began his strut over to Mumbo’s mountain with perfect timing, because as he stepped out of his alley, Scar was flying overhead and misjudged how close he was to his hourglass, managing to careen right into its upper half. Grian winced as his brain registered what he witnessed, and he quickly ran over to check in on his best friend, “Oie, gonna be one of those days, huh?”

Scar peeled his face off the dirt, slightly wavering as the dizziness washed out of him, “I would love to say ‘no,’ but I always jinx myself when I do.”

Grian giggled and held a hand out for Scar, to which Scar happily reached up and grabbed, using it for extra help to stand up. Grian began to speak once Scar had seemed to wipe most of the dirt off of his clothing, “Welp, I’m off to Mumbo’s place to have a chat with him. Let me know if you need anything-”

“Wait, you think Mumbo is still here? Did he not tell you?” Scar asked genuinely. Pausing for a second, Grian nodded his head uncertainly, and for good reason. Scar’s next words threw a giant piece of TNT into his plans, “Impulse and Pearl asked him to join them on a little excursion of sorts. I can’t remember if it was off-server or not, but still, they won’t be back until tomorrow at least, even if you needed his help with an emergency situation.”

Whyyyyyyyy must life love to kick him in the groin more often than not? Groaning somewhat immaturely, Grian placed his head in his hands and shook it, “Now what am I going to do?”

Scar stared concerned, “Um, is it an emergency?”

Splitting his fingers open so Grian could look at Scar with one eye, he sighed, taking them down and lolling his head to emphasize his frustration, “I mean, yes and no. It’s kind of imperative that this machine of mine is fixed really soon, but it’s not ‘get it fixed by tonight or bad things will happen’ soon.”

Scar let out a noise that signified he understood, “That’s not terrible. Mind me asking what the machine is for? I might not be a Redstoner, but maybe I could help a little.”

“Weeeeell, it has to do with these bad boys,” Grian flexed his wings and pointed to them while they were stretched. “Mumbo offered to make me a wing preening machine after he caught me struggling with cleaning them myself, and because I have a terrible habit of not doing anything relating to the backs of things,” Scar snickered, “I tend to clean them last minute, meaning they’re kind of grody right now. It’s not great for wings to be dirty for extended periods of time, but I’m not in the danger zone yet.”

Scar didn’t take the reassurance, though, “But it’s still bad if they aren’t clean, right? What will happen if you don’t fix them up?”

Grian giggled nervously, both because the reason was horrifying and because he still wasn’t sure if that reason actually applied to him, “Wings can get infected, and once a wing reaches that stage, there’s almost no salvaging it, so you just gotta-” Grian made a crunching noise with his mouth and moved like he was swinging an axe.

“Grian, that’s terrible!” Scar spoke with worry and also a hint of reprimand. To be fair, Grian was the one procrastinating such a vital activity relating to his physical health, “Are you sure you can wait much longer? Maybe we can find someone else to fix the machine, or maybe someone else can just clean them for you-”

Grian jumped back, almost defensively so, “Woah woah woah, take it easy there.”

Scar took a metaphorical step back apologetically, “Geez, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable asking that.”

Grian made a high-pitched noise, “I mean, I would totally let you or anyone else here clean them, but unfortunately, a big thing for us hybrids is to let others help out, as it’s a super special bonding thing to give such permission.”

A few beats of silence passed between them.

“Buddy, you can just say you don’t want anyone else touching your wings,” Scar explained sympathetically. “No one here is going to be upset with a boundary like that, you know.”

Grian sputtered, crossing his arms indignantly, “What? What gives you that impression? Are you trying to tell me you know more about my hybrid activities than I do?”

Scar chuckled lightheartedly, “No, I would never, it’s just that I had a few mates before coming to Hermitcraft who were also hybrids, and they asked me to help preen their wings multiple times. They tended to just flop into my lap and dramatically demand that I help them out. Kinda hard to think that it’s a universal rule for hybrids with such experience underneath my hat.”

Darn it.

Grian could feel his cheeks start to heat up awkwardly. Oh Gods, he was being caught out for lying, this always led to bad things-

Scar quickly soothed the obvious tension growing within his friend, “Grian, you’ve had a rough go at life. I understand if this is a defense mechanism you formed to get hi- people off your back,” Grian noticed the stutter there, “I just want to remind you that it really is different here because brains are gross and need that occasional pat on the back every once in a while.”

Grian could feel his fingers begin to rhythmically tap his upper arms while simultaneously squeezing the blood flow out of them. He eventually sighed and shook his head, “It wasn’t him that made me freaked out about this, though the lying habit probably came from that. It was… it was a couple of other factors, really.”

Scar blinked, “Oh?”

Well crap, there went Grian opening his big fat mouth again. Scar was obviously prompting him to continue that line of thought. From his viewpoint, it probably looked like Grian was getting comfortable opening up, and while he didn’t want to force Grian into anything he didn’t want to do, he also wanted to gesture to Grian in some way that said it was okay to keep going. While Grian would love to do that, he was also suddenly aware that the real reason he wanted to preen his wings was the fact that they were eldritch horrors no player really understood.

C’mon, think bird brain, what’s a completely different bullshit lie you could tell people? You came up with the first excuse easily enough. Seriously, there had to be something that would pass as reasonable.

Ah! What was that thing Pearl thought he was? Uhhhh- “I’m not actually a hybrid. Well, I am one, but not a parrot one.”

Scar slowly grew more confused, “Okay?”

“Here, want to follow me to my starter base?” Grian asked right away. Instead of fumbling through the totally real reason toward his reluctance about others helping him preen, he might as well show it off.

Thankfully, if he asked Scar to burn down the world with him, Scar would easily comply.

Which is exactly why the man complied even easier with Grian’s request. Once they got inside, it took them not too long to head toward a more inner part of the base, Grian tightly shutting the door as to ward off any outsiders that might barge their way in. He loved Pearl, but he would appreciate avoiding a repeat of last time with someone who might not be as understanding as her.

Scar kept studying the room, unaware of what Grian was doing to his wings, “You know, I adore your building skills as much as the next Hermit, but I am failing to see what this has to do with our conversation? Forgive me if I’m missing the obvious- woah.”

He finally turned around to be able to look Grian in the eyes and instead ended up looking behind Grian to examine the now purple wings. He couldn’t help the way his eyebrows raised and his eyes widened. He was in awe, especially because he never got to see a hybrid like Grian, and also because who knew how much trust Grian felt toward Scar to be willing to do this.

Grian shrugged and threw his arms out to hover parallel with his wings, “So, yeah, you’re right that it's a personal thing. People tend to treat hybrids fairly decently, but a hybrid that was basically magic? I didn’t want to risk it. I thought I would get treated like some circus show.”

What was he doing? He was just lying again, and this time more severely. If any word got out about what Grian really was, who knew what the ramifications could be. The best option was getting kicked off the server, and the worst? Lord-

Scar abruptly stepped closer to Grian, leaving only a foot between them, holding his hand out toward the wings and looking starstruck, “Is it okay for me to touch them now?”

Grian could only stare dumbfounded, “... Sure?”

Scar nodded, showing his thanks, before taking one last step toward Grian’s right and reached behind him to run a few fingers down an average-sized “feather." Grian’s response was immediate and involuntary; he couldn’t stop his head from twitching and his body from shivering satisfactorily even if he knew it was coming.

“Sorry!” Scar apologized, bringing his hand back. “Was that too much?”

Once Grian’s mind calmed down from the stimulation, he shook his head, “No, no, that was… amazing. I didn’t realize it would feel so nice.”

Scar was rubbing his fingers together until he understood what Grian was saying, “Oh, oh… Well, my offer to clean your wings is still up in the air if you want to.”

The next day, Grian would smack himself upside the head just about a dozen times for saying, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

The two men got situated on one of Grian’s comfier rugs, and once Scar was firmly behind Grian with his legs crossed, he decided to go all-in instead of just two gentle fingers. His hands grasped what Grian considered to be the primaries and straightened them out, making Grian let out a noise that was a mix between a chirp and a squeak. Grian quickly placed a hand over his mouth to shut himself up, but the damage was done.

Scar wasn’t upset, though, far from it if his lopsided grin was anything to go by, “You don’t need to keep quiet. This is probably a lot for you, so it’s understandable you need to make noises. Heck, noises will tell me if I’m doing good or bad, so please, feel free to squawk away.”

Grian could only nod, then he let out a happy hum as Scar continued back up. The further toward the middle of Grian’s back Scar got, the more Grian leaned forward, melting into a pile of goo right there on his base’s floor. He briefly worried that Scar would no longer be able to reach certain areas with how much he was bending, but considering the fingers never let up, he figured he was in the clear.

Scar’s fingers told an interesting story. Because of his various costumes and traveling businessman way of life, he undoubtedly ran into those who were less than pleased with the idea of having to pay for services. Thick, jagged scars laid on certain parts of Scar’s hands, a finger even felt like a chunk was missing, showcasing the actions Scar had to have taken to defend himself and his stuff during his traversing through multiple worlds.

But here he was, gently working through Grian’s wings like they were made of the finest silk in the land. He’s probably seen horrors beyond even Grian’s nightmares, but he still managed to be soft and caring, saying hello to each Hermit with a bright and genuine smile. Grian would always be happy to have met Scar, to have the chance to call the man one of his closest friends.

Then came the dirty part: the grime and muck that built up in the crevices. Grian was folded like a lawn chair, so there was no way he had enough time to sit back up and tell Scar that he did more than enough before Scar was picking his way into the ridges of the feathers. Grian’s eyes sort of bulged as the first fingernail picked at a rather large piece of dirt.

Oh Gods, was that why that part of his wing was bothering him? Right as Scar yoinked the bit of soot out, Grian could feel incredible amounts of tension drain away. It was like someone scratching an itch on your back that you could barely not reach. Scar needed to be careful, Grian was going to pass out if he got any more meticulous about it.

Honestly, Grian was definitely at least blacked out once Scar got the last little area finished and began to stand up, “Alrighty, that should be everything. Your wings feel good? Any spot that feels like I missed it?”

Grian let out a murky hum from deep within his throat. It was all he could manage before his vocal cords registered that he was a human person and not a pile of liquid, “Y-Yeah, they feel perfect, Scar. Thank you so much.”

Scar bent over to help Grian stand much like Grian helped Scar out earlier that day. Scar began to tug the edges of his jacket outward when Grian was safely standing upright without help, “It was no problem, buddy! I’ll always be right next door if you need this kind of assistance again.”

Grian nodded, walking Scar outside, “Of course, of course. Have a good rest of your day. Thanks again!”

He had to yell the last part, as Scar got his elytra out and was rocketing away to probably start whatever it was he wanted to do before he crashed spectacularly. Grian would feel bad about derailing the man’s plans if he wasn’t so blissed out. Once Scar was out of eyesight, Grian quietly shut the door and stood there disbelieving just about his whole life.

That… worked. Scar believed the lie about Grian being a “shapeshifter hybrid,” cleaned his wings no problem, and then left like he was building a simple shed, not like he just helped Grian out with one of his biggest struggles ever to date. The weirdest part? Grian loved it. Loved the attention his wings got, loved how nice and shiny they felt since a sentient player could go in and hit every nook and cranny unlike a machine could, loved the tangible feeling of being loved.

It was… nice. Too bad it probably wouldn't happen again.

Gaile chirped from the corner of the room.

“You’re not off the hook just because this ended up better than expected.”

Another chirp, more chastised, sounded out again.

Chapter Text

Grian did it again.

He kept forgetting to ask Mumbo to fix his machine, and now his wings were messed up and dirty to the point of being annoying. Granted, they might still have gotten this dirty due to his bad habit, but he wouldn't have to worry so distinctly because the machine would be working again. Hopefully, Mumbo would be present and be able to schedule a time to come over to Grian’s base. Once the damn thing was working again, he planned to be better about cleaning his wings before they reached this stage.

He just needed to first stop being dumb about getting the machine fixed, then he could stop being dumb about other things.

Gaile was off herding some goats for Doc, so Grian didn’t have to worry about her doing anything to the house while he went out. Like doubly breaking the machine to the point of non-salvageability. Yes, he was still annoyed about that. He probably would be for a long time even though he loved her.

But right now he was getting more annoyed at the fact that he walked all over Mumbo’s mountain and could not find the mustachioed man for the life of him. It was freaky because they literally talked last night, which was what reminded Grian of the whole “broken redstone device” problem. Mumbo even talked about finishing up some finer details of the mountain in the morning, so the fact that he wasn’t nearby made alarm bells ring in Grian’s head.

As Grian perched on the edge to stare out over Boatem, his vision caught the tiniest movements at the front of Treeza. Aha! Mumbo must have stopped to grab some last-minute supplies! Of course! Spreading his wings, Grian wasted no time in flying down to his and Pearl’s creation. Right before he landed, he began to speak triumphantly.

“Mumbo! Just the man I needed to s-” Grian looked up to try and make eye contact with ‘Mumbo.’

And promptly froze when he instead looked into the much bigger eyes of Keralis, “Oh, do you need Bumbo for something?”

A choking noise came from Grian’s throat involuntarily. Thankfully, he recovered pretty quickly, “I just need him to fix something for me… Why do you ask?”

Grian felt a spike of fear run through him when Keralis’ face got both sympathetic and nervous, “Ah, well, that’s unfortunate. Bumbo in there is sick as a wolf pup, so he won’t be able to do anything. He’d be lucky if he found a way to get out of bed.”

Are you serious?

Grian felt bad for his friend. Considering Mumbo was completely fine last night, the first thing he must have woken up to was a splitting headache and other sore spots. That’s something Grian would hate to happen to even his worst enemies. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that Grian tried to get his machine fixed at the one moment he apparently couldn’t!

Groaning, Grian leaned his head back while placing his hands on his eyes, “Why am I so bad at life?”

Keralis tsk-ed and placed his hands on his hips, “Hey, don’t be rude about yourself! Everything you do is great!”

Grian felt a small smile tug at his lips as he brought his hands down to cross his arms, “Thank you, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what did you mean?” Keralis was stubborn. “Because I highly doubt you’re ‘bad at life.’ There’s dozens of ways to live!”

Grian shook his head fondly, “Okay, I may have exaggerated. I was talking about the fact that I recently came to Mumbo to have him fix this thing of mine and he was caught up in something then as well, meaning he couldn’t. This is the second time it’s happened, so I’m paraphrasing. Fine, you got me.”

Keralis nodded, satisfied that his ‘love yourself’ mantra finally got through to Grian, “That’s what I thought. Besides, if this is the second time, you must have figured out something to get around the first instance, so just do it again and the problem will be solved!”

About that, “Yeah, I don’t think I can take that route anymore, but thanks for the help.”

Keralis tilted his head, “How so?”

Boy, he wasn’t going to let this go, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Keralis crossed his arms, giving Grian an incredulous look with nothing else.

“Yep, you’re not letting this go,” Grian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands. “I had someone else preen them for me.”

Keralis nodded his head, accepting that answer, “That sounds easy enough. Why exactly can’t you do it again?”

Grian let out a drawn-out nervous hum, “I’m kinda not used to other players preening me? Like, I made up this totally fake excuse as to why I didn’t want others touching my wings because I was worried what someone might do to them, and the only reason I let a Hermit clean them last time was because it had been forever since I had cleaned my wings myself, so there was no way I would hit everything like the machine can. It was a last resort type deal.”

Keralis’ bravado dropped into something more apologetic, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! If I knew it was a sore subject I wouldn’t have pushed as hard as I have been. Er, maybe I just shouldn’t have been pushing at all, you-”

“Hey, take it easy,” Grian said with a soft grin. “It’s fair that you would push considering my track record recently. Thank you for being concerned, really.”

Keralis sighed, happy that his potential grievance wasn’t too upsetting, “If you say so. Still, what are you going to do then? Can you leave your wings dirty for much longer?”

It was the same thing Scar questioned. Would Grian ever have a moment in the rest of his life where basic concern wouldn’t knock him off his socks? Or was that just something he had to relent to, which, kind of sad that generic kindness was such a moving thing for him? Even after all that has happened between his big breakdown and now.

Why was he being introspective? “I mean, possibly.” He’s already asked questions like this a dozen times. “I don’t know if an infection would hurt me like other hybrids.” He would never get a proper answer; abuse sucked like that. “I’m not a normal hybrid really-”

That was why you needed to think before you spoke, kids.

Grian cut his words off with a choking noise, his jaw staying open in panic.

Keralis simply tilted his head like an inquisitive puppy, “How are you different, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Welp, he already told Scar the same lie. Might as well keep his story consistent, “Can you… come to my starter base? Real quick?”

“Of course!” Keralis happily complied, humming a joyful tune as he followed Grian to said base. The two got inside, Keralis admiring the interior as Grian made sure the door locked and all his windows were covered. He quickly morphed his wings into their “shifter” mode and patiently waited for Keralis to notice.

Keralis took his sweet time doing so. He seemed to be really into admiring Grian’s infrastructure. “Wow, Brian, your work is impeccable as always!” He finally turned around, continuing that line of thought, “Did you have any specific thoughts in mind when building?”

Grian just stood silently, hoping the other man would see without Grian needing to say anything.

Thankfully, Keralis did, “Oh! Oh. My, those are pretty. Like stained glass, or perhaps a beautiful river with just the right kind of refraction on it.”

Haha, wow, Grian was not prepared for a compliment like that. Scar was starstruck as well, but he didn’t verbalize those thoughts into compliments. It was making Grian’s brain do somersaults in his head. Grian cleared his throat, “T-Thank you, but yeah. I’m something called a ‘shifter hybrid,’ and my wings need to be cleaned in their ‘base’ format for the cleaning to actually matter, so.”

Keralis nodded along, easily accepting the excuse as a legitimate answer, “I see, I see. Well, I hope you figure out a way to clean them soon! I’d hate for you to hurt one of these gorgeous things.”

Don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it don’t- “I mean, I guessss you could. If you wanted to. Since I’m offering. And you are here already.”

Grian was going to chain himself in his alleyway and never come out again.

Keralis looked genuinely surprised, “Really? Don’t feel like you need to do something that makes you uncomfortable. I trust your judgment, and I’m not going to force you into doing a thing you don’t want just because I thought I knew better.”

Uuuuuugh, if there was any way to make Grian cave, it was making him feel minor amounts of guilt on top of the ferocious yearning within him. Keralis obviously wasn’t guilt-tripping—Grian wanted to start some kind of game based on how much his friends unnecessarily apologized to him—but that didn’t change the fact Keralis was feeling awful because of something Grian had said. Of course, Grian withholding the info was understandable, since the action was because of past experiences, but that didn’t stop Grian from feeling bad about it either.

Suppose that was just one of the perks of anxiety, “I’m serious. As long as you think you’ll do a good job, then, by all means, I don’t have anything else going on today. Preening isn’t too difficult if you haven’t done it before; you just straighten the feathers and pick out everything that’s not a feather stuck between them.”

Keralis looked like he was hesitating, something that seemed unnatural to the speak-from-your-heart Hermit, but then a genuine smile split his face, “Then I’m happy to oblige. Where do you want me?”

Grian made sure to grab a big pillow in the room before he went to the rug he sat on when Scar was over and sitting just like he did that day. He spread his wings out behind him, somewhat flinching at the tense feathers getting stretched, before sighing. He placed the pillow between his stomach and the ground, not ready to get a crick in his back again just because he would most likely fold like a piece of paper would, “Now you just kneel behind me and get to work. Be sure to let me know when you are done. If last time was any indication, I’ll probably be preTTY-”

Out of it.

Is what Grian would have said if he finished his sentence. Instead, Keralis was behind him and already getting to work, running his fingers through the lavender limbs. It was either cute or sad how Grian began squeezing the pillow like it was a giant stress toy. As expected, the motions of actual preening were sending him into a floaty headspace, making him more prone to thinking in depth about things he normally wouldn’t.

See, Keralis was big. He was by no means the tallest Hermit—his height was pretty average—but he was beefy. Hell, he nearly rivaled Doc in terms of bicep size. Keralis, if prompted, could probably punch a hole straight through a brick wall.

Yet Keralis was not that kind of person. He could probably beat the shit out of anyone like the other Hermits could, but Grian wouldn’t blame you if you expected otherwise. After all, Keralis gave them all silly nicknames and personalized care routines. He was one of the few that could bully Xisuma into sleep when their Admin got too caught up in some kind of project. Keralis was literally over in Boatem because he was bringing Mumbo soup.

Keralis was big, but he was also soft. Which was why Grian shouldn’t have been surprised at his touch feeling like freshly-cleaned blankets. Or perhaps a better descriptor would be a brand new shiny shield. Whatever one might come up with, it still had the same outcome. Big hands meant a big message: I’m here to protect you no matter what. Grian could get lost under this surface area for weeks.

Keralis hummed, scratching at a particularly dirty feather, “Ah yes, I can see why I was so enamored with these at the start. They’re even more gorgeous when they’re all prim and proper, perfectly fitting their owner, if I may add.”

Oh Gods, not again. Grian signed up for wing cleaning, not emotional torture. He shoved his face further into the pillow, some whines spilling from his lips despite trying his best to not make noise. It would seem his best was not good enough, because Keralis tsk-ed as he kept preening away.

“Now now, don’t hide from me, Brian,” Keralis spoke with what sounded like a cheeky grin. “What’s the matter, can’t handle a little compliment or two? Even when a handsome man such as yourself deserves them? Or maybe you would appreciate being called pretty more, it suits you just as nicely.”

Pleeeeeease; seriously, what was Keralis’ goal here? The obvious answer was that he wanted to make Grian feel nice, but there had to be more. Keralis complimented other Hermits all the time, but this felt planned, focused, like he wanted Grian to turn into a blushy mess and melt into the pillow.

Keralis tugged on a jammed feather, Grian hissing from the pain. The feather felt much better, but it was still a jammed feather that Keralis just fixed. Keralis winced in sympathy, “Shh, sorry for that.” A moment of silence, and a moment of no movement from him, “Just like I’m sorry that basic words of encouragement seem so foreign to you.”

Well, Grian wasn’t sure he wanted that answer anymore.

Keralis sighed, turning the mood somewhat somber as he continued to clean Grian’s wings, “It’s so unfortunate that someone as resilient and ferocious as you grew up in an environment that tried to whittle those aspects out of you. The fact that something as easy as ‘good job’ makes your head spin is just so…”

Grian was impressed with how Keralis was careful enough not to grip a bunch of feathers in his fist as he angrily clenched the limb, moving it away from the wings as he did so.

“And yet you still are brave, little Brian,” Keralis started preening again, bringing back a more positive tone to his words. “Still an amazing builder, still an amazing Hermit, and still an amazing man. We’re all so proud of you, and proud to call you our friend.”

… The leaky tears were from stimulation. That was the excuse Grian would go with. Yeah.

The rest of the session continued as normal, Grian getting just as dazed as last time minus almost throwing his back out while bending flat to the ground, which was thanks to the pillow preventing it. Though, even with the extra help, it was a near thing. Grian just hoped the pillow would poof back to full size after how much he had been squishing it… and that he hadn’t taken one of Keralis’ eyes out. He felt that he got very twitchy at some points.

Just as it started, it was over, and a tiny part of Grian was noticeably upset. He mentions noticeably because he realized that he felt similarly when Scar’s session was over, but some subconscious part of him seemed to not want to admit it. He did not want to dig into the meaning behind that realization any time soon.

Still, Keralis’ hands left his limbs, and he let out a tiny whimper at the loss of contact. The less than human part of his brain wanted those big hands back, wanted the personification of someone sharing their coat on a rainy day to return to his feathers and comfortingly unruffle them. Alas, dirtiness is a finite thing, and Keralis had to get rid of all of it at some point.

Grian heard the noise of footsteps walking around him to stand at his front, and he took it as his cue to sigh relaxedly and lean back, using his hands as props. His head was hanging back, almost falling off with how limp it was, but he brought it up when the footsteps stopped moving. His eyes made note of Keralis’ knees at the same time a hand tousled his hair.

“Well, it sounds like someone is satisfied,” Keralis chuckled. He took the hand he was using to mess Grian’s hair and held it palm-up between them.

Grian’s brain was still lagging behind about ten steps, so it took him a second to register than he needed to use the hand to help stand up. He briefly thought that he could get up himself, but then he realized he couldn’t feel his jello-legs and decided that he did not want to careen right into the ground today. He happily took the help and ended up being more steady than he expected to be, but still not sturdy enough to stand alone just yet.

Keralis held Grian’s hand in between both of his, sandwiching the limb like he was being kind and gentle to an elderly person, “Glad to be of service. I hope that was everything you wanted and more.”

Grian couldn’t really see straight, “Mmm? Oh, yeah yeah, one hundred percent. Thank you.”

Keralis nodded, almost reluctantly letting go, “Awesome. Be sure to let me know if anything feels funny or weird. The others can testify that I sometimes give massages that pop a thing or two out of place.”

Grian shook his head dopily, “Nnnnnnnope. Everything's a-okay and ready to go. Thanks again.”

Keralis chuckled, finally heading toward the door to leave, “Good, good. I’m going to head out before I make you sound like a broken record. Have an amazing rest of your week, and be sure to have Bumbo message me when he’s feeling better!”

Grian waved goodbye, not able to say anything else at the moment.

The sound of the door closing brought a little bit of sobriety back into Grian. Oh, right, that happened for real. It was very much not a dream. Hm.

He blinked a few times before looking down at his hands for no reason other than wanting something to do. He rotated the limbs around, taking in every long fingernail and dry crack, and sighed. It seemed he managed to somehow luck out two times in a row with the whole “friends helping him preen” thing, but he needed to stop.

He was risking too much by getting Hermits involved and letting them see his so-called “shifter” wings. Besides, it wasn’t like it was going to be this way forever. Sooner rather than later, Mumbo would fix the machine, and then he could clean his wings just like he had always done! He needed to nip this “asking others” thing in the bud before it got to be too late.

It was starting to turn into a bad habit.

Chapter Text

“Oh, my GODS,” Grian screamed in the direction of Stress, who was walking out of Mumbo’s base. “Why do I keep allowing this to happen?!”

Stress could only raise an eyebrow in worry before bouncing her way over to Grian, “What’s got you screaming across a field?”

Grian felt exasperated groans come from his throat as he waved Stress off, “Sorry, sorry, it’s not your fault. I just keep putting off asking Mumbo to fix a redstone machine for me, and everytime I remember to ask him, he’s caught in the middle of doing something else! Let me guess, you came over to give him soup too?”

Stress thinned her lips, “Well, no, he’s not sick again, but Impulse told me he was overworking himself and that I needed to come over to convince him to take a nap. I think he’s going to be passed out for a while.”

“Called it,” Grian stated, comically flopping against the ground and throwing an arm over his eyes. He could hear Stress walk closer to stand over him and look down at his pathetic stature, “Why do I keep doing this to myself?”

Stress looked around the area, trying to come up with an idea that could solve his woes, but her mind ran blank, “Sorry, luv. I would love to help, but you know me and redstone.”

Grian huffed, sitting up and keeping his posture poor, not caring about much else other than his own stupidity, “You’re fine, it’s my own fault that I keep putting off cleaning my wings so much.”

Stress leaned over to help Grian stand up, grabbing his hands and hoisting him forward, “Keralis mentioned something about you having trouble with that recently.”

Grian froze, “He… told you?”

“Oh, was he not supposed to?” Stress said innocently. “He just told me that he felt bad over the fact that Mumbo kept getting incapacitated before he could fix a really important machine that helped you with that.”

Grian winced, feeling guilty he assumed the worst in his friend, “No, that’s fine. I was worried he brought something else up, but it sounds like he didn’t.”

Stress seemed to relax at that, “Oooooh, okay, that makes sense! Don’t worry, he was careful to keep everything vague.”

Grian facepalmed a little bit, “Yeah, I don’t know why I thought he wouldn’t be.”

Stress cut him off by pinching his cheek, “Hey now, it’s okay to be concerned! I’m guessing you two had a really important convo. I would be worried over something like that even if it was a close friend I talked with too. It’s not every day your world gets turned upside down on its head like… it has for you.”

Grian felt a small smile upturn his lips, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Like always!” Stress finished, making her fingers into a V-shape and holding them next to her eye in a cute pose. “Still, what are you going to do with your wings? Are you just going to have to wait to clean them?”

Grian rubbed the back of his neck, “Pretty much. I could go find Scar or Keralis to do it for me, I guess, but I’m not sure where they are on the server. It might be less time just to wait for Mumbo to wake up. Unless…” Grian quickly clicked his mouth shut as he looked over at Stress to see if she picked up on that last word.

It was hard to tell if the puppy-dog-eyes Stress was making were intentional or not, “Unless what?”

Dammit, she did, “Unless you help, but I’ve been trying to stop asking others to cover for me. Once the machine is fixed, I’m going to go back to relying on that, so I shouldn’t get used to the feeling of other players.”

Stress seemed to get confused at that, “Is that really a bad thing though? I would think having someone else preen your wings is good even if it’s only a temporary situation! I’ve helped a few gals out in the past with their ruffled feathers, so I’m pretty well versed in the art of preening.”

“... Sure,” Grian agreed with a little too quickly. “Well, thanks for getting our CEO to go to bed, he has been needing some extra shut-eye recently. Have a good rest of your week, and be sure to let me know if you need help with your guys’ business!”

Grian turned away briefly, but something in his gut told him to turn back. When he did, he saw Stress crossing her hands behind her back as well as her ankles, staring somewhat forlornly at the ground. It looked like she sighed, “Sure thing, Gri! Let me know how the wing cleaning ends up turning out!”

Stress began to walk away, and something in Grian’s chest twisted. His friends were only trying to help, and it sucked that Grian felt so anxious about the one thing they could do. Then again, none of them would be in this dilemma if Grian could just remember to literally speak with Mumbo once or twice.

Grian let out an exasperated noise, “Wait, Stress, wait!” Grian held a hand out until she looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. Shaking his head, Grian relented, “I have put off cleaning my wings way more than I normally do this time. Unlike the other ones, I probably shouldn’t mess with what little wiggle room I have, especially considering it’s even less than before.”

Stress’ eyes widened more and more, “So what you’re saying is…”

“If you really want to,” Grian spoke, holding his arms out like he was a ring leader presenting his new show, “then you can clean my wings.”

It was silent, but then Grian was suddenly being barreled into by five feet of energy that was also squealing. Very loudly, “Oh my gosh, I’d be honored to help you out! Where do you want to do this?”

Grian took a second to let the ringing in his ears stop before answering, “My starter base is where I’ve been doing it so far. Before we get started, I do need to show you-”

Then Grian was begging for his life as Stress yanked him to his base like she was a five-year-old taking her new pet for its first walk. She let go once they got inside, probably aware that Grian would need to take her to the specific spot he liked being in for preening sessions. He could tell she was barely holding back the need to twiddle her thumbs, “So what’s this thing you needed to show me?”

Grian took a deep breath before getting down to business and changing his wings to their default state. He closed his eyes as he did so, worried about any kind of negative reaction, but opened them pretty quickly once it was done and paid attention to hers, which seemed to be the size of dinner plates with how much they expanded. Yeah, that sounded about right for her.

It looked like Stress was physically struggling to not let out a high-pitched noise that would shatter all the glass in the house. She decided to place her hands on her cheeks and gasped instead, “Oh my gooosh, those are sooo prettyyyy! What are they?”

Grian cleared his throat, “These are what a shifter hybrid’s wings look like. I can morph them into any wings I want, but their normal presentation is this. To preen them correctly, they need to be in this ‘setting,’ which is why I usually don’t have others help because I don’t want them to know about my real species.”

Stress nodded rapidly, getting the memo, “Got it got it got it! Don’t worry, my lips are sealed about this. Now, let’s get to cleaning them; I wanna see how they feel!”

After that was situated, he walked upstairs with Stress close on his heels. She stepped inside the room with the still broken machine sitting in the corner after him, and he grabbed the pillow he used last time this had happened. It was on a nearby chair right as they got in, which was convenient placing on his part. He knelt on the familiar rug and got to hugging the cushion, “Alrighty, now’s your time to shine.”

Suddenly, small fingers were excitedly brushing their way through his wings, making him shiver. Heh, small. That was a fun word to think about considering, well, himself.

Stress, alongside Gem, were the only Hermits that managed to be shorter than him. Everyone else was either on the same level or much, much taller. It was kind of funny like that; the two ladies were exact opposites but in similar ways. Gem was ready to get down in the dirt and brawl a spider with nothing but her bare hands. She will gladly tie a feral wolf to a fence post until she got enough bones to tame it. Gem was buff as hell and not afraid to arm wrestle Doc until she won at least five times.

On the other hand was Stress. Stress was slim and delicate. She also spent hours in the dirt, but it was to test the soil and see how well her flowers would grow. She never was all too interested in PVP, but she still showed up to watch so she could apply first-aid to the Hermit fighting and offer some moral support in case they lost. Gem was deep in the middle of MCC competitions while Stress helped non-MCC Hermits with their face paint in the stands.

And Stress made it work. She made it work very, very well. Everyone was happy to take yoga pointers from her, they always came to her first when they needed a fancy outfit for some kind of formal event, and most importantly, she helped show how players from all walks of life could make their homes here on Hermitcraft. Quiet and reserved players like False could become best friends with loud and bubbly players like Stress, and Grian was never happier to live anywhere else.

Grian went on a tangent there, wow.

That was the beauty of his wings getting preened, he supposed. It allowed him to drift away into lines of thoughts he normally never ruminated about in detail. It started with him remembering that Stress was shorter than him, and it simply spiraled from there.

Right, Stress’s size. She was a rather stark contrast to Scar, and even more so to Keralis. Though Grian made that sound like it was derogatory; that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Stress’s smaller hands were doing wonders at cleaning Grian’s massive wings. Sometimes there were crevices not even the machine could reach because they were so small, and that’s exactly where tiny fingernails came in and did their best. The way Stress could poke and prod at places Grian forgot existed due to not being able to reach them was downright heavenly.

It was like that moment Scar plucked out a particularly sticky piece of grit but times ten.

However, partway through the session, Grian started feeling pokes that were less human-based and more, well- were those stems that were getting stuck into his feathers? He sat up quickly, his head bonking into Stress and sending her falling backward onto her butt. Grian grimaced as he heard the impact and quickly turned around, “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about little ol’ me,” Stress replied, picking up the flowers that scattered because of their collision. “Winged folks tend to have moments where they suddenly regain their bearings rather forcefully. It’s a defense mechanism I think, like your subconscious suspects predators are nearby and it readies you to run if need be.”

Grian bit his lip, “Still, I didn’t mean to knock you over. Here, let me help you pick up some of your flowers.” Grian got to work and collected around five before, “Wait, flowers?”

Stress giggled, dumping the rest of what was in her hands into Grian’s unsuspecting arms, and stood up, “Is there a mirror I can bring to you to show you something, luv?”

Okay, now Grian was about to be out of it for completely different reasons than suspected, “Um, near the chest by the door. What-”

Stress was already gone, leaving Grian to sigh fondly and get up to look for a vase to hold everything he was carrying. He managed to do so just in time, as Stress was pushing a mirror next to the rug they were on and running to Grian so she could tug on his sleeve and pull him to stand in front of it, “C’mere, c’mere, look! I know we’ll probably need to take them out before you leave, but I wanted to test how feathers looked with flower petals and I think I did a good job!”

Grian could only watch himself in the mirror with wide eyes. His translucent wings weren’t all that translucent anymore, as Stress had dotted a random assortment of flowers within their open spaces. Pink, yellow, darker purple, green, even some orange and red were all situated in various spots just about everywhere he could see. It was… beautiful; that was all Grian could say.

Stress walked around to look at Grian’s face and gasped, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

Huh? Blinking, Grian finally noticed the liquid streaming down his face. He brought a finger up to wipe it away at the same time Stress continued apologizing.

“I knew I should have asked first,” Stress chastised herself. “Here, let me take these-”

Before she could reach forward any further, Grian was snatching her hands in his own to prevent her from doing what she thought was the correct action to take, “No, don’t, these aren’t… I’m not upset.”

Stress wasn’t sure where this was going, “Are they happy tears?”

Grian shook his head. It seemed like he didn’t know where to go either, “I can’t really say it’s that, I just… I didn’t think my wings could be something I called ‘pretty.’”

It was no secret how Grian felt about them, at least to himself and Pearl. They snatched him away from everything he loved and forced him into a role he could never leave no matter how hard he tried the denial route. He had to look at the evidence every time he cleaned the damn things. They were just as bad as the scars adorning his chest and waist, if not worse.

To look in the mirror at them unashamed and flabbergasted at how nice they were was…

Stress made a sympathetic noise, “Oh, Gri, of course they’re lovely. How could they not be when they’re a part of you?”

Grian let out a wet laugh, Stress moving her hands up to cup his cheeks with him still holding on, making it look like he was holding onto his face himself. More tears leaked out of his eyes, trailing down over his hands as his smile stretched from the inner edge of each hand.

“Can you…” Grian was trying to word his request in a way that didn’t make him sound like a fumbling goofball. “Can you put the flowers back in once I change my wings?”

Stress blinked, not expecting that question, before smiling warmly, “It would be no trouble at all.”

Grian could relent to having another person preen his wings this time, especially considering just how damn gorgeous he looked walking out to the other Boatem members appearing like he just frolicked in a field of daisies.

Impulse greeted him with a smile, “Woah, G, you look amazing! Why did we never consider decorating your wings while we were hippies? That’s so cool!”

Grian hummed, happy with himself in a way he never thought was possible, “Yeah, but don’t worry. Thanks to Stress, I have lots of ideas on what to try next.”

Chapter Text

Finally, Grian was going to be able to get his machine fixed.

A small part of him was sad, but he supposed that was all the more reason to get it fixed faster. He wouldn’t have had so much regret if he didn’t run to one of his friends every time he didn’t want to face the consequences of his procrastination. He loved them all dearly, but sometimes how much they loved him back enabled certain behaviors he didn’t want.

To doubly make sure Grian didn’t forget again, he decided to actually message his friend to plan a time to meet! Wow, what a concept, right? Regardless, enough was enough, and Grian needed to be a responsible member of society. He was walking in the forest near BDub’s racetrack when he remembered to pull out his communicator.

He opened the DMs between him and Mumbo and typed out a total of one letter before he was interrupted by black scales and upset warbles. Grian sighed, “Gaile, knock it off. I’m just messaging Mumbo real quick and then we can continue playing, alright?”

Gaile had been getting a little stir crazy, so Grian decided to take her away from Boatem. She had pretty much explored their entire island, but some spots more so than others. If she were anything like Grian, being in a relatively new place would tire her out quicker than if she were in a place she knew like the back of her claws.

Seems that plan didn’t work exactly as Grian had intended, though. Gaile was still fiery as ever, “Gaile, please, I just need to type up one real quick thing and then-”

Then not watch where he was going, because he was so focused on both his device and his dragon that he was not aware that he was walking into a tripwire until his ankle was wrapped up tightly in it and he was falling from his full height into the ground. He lay there face down, his arm making a weird S-shape, as his upper arm was flat against the dirt with his forearm bending straight up, followed by his wrist also bending to be parallel with his upper arm.

His communicator had thankfully rolled away and into the waiting clutches of Gaile, because if it didn’t, it too would have been coated in the piles of sand that descended upon Grian’s prone form. Ah, of course, there was an unused prank in this area. BDubs lived nearby. Sitting up and groaning, Grian knocked his foot loose from the trap.

As he slowly stood up, he could feel practically every grain of sand that wormed its way into his pores and cracks. His hair was intensely itching with the sensation, and don’t get him started on his wings. Oh, his wings. Each feather grated uncomfortably against another one, the pebbles making the limbs feel like two pieces of sandpaper grinding against each other. “Sandpaper” was a poor word choice now that he thought about it.

He took all of two steps toward Gaile to pick her up before leaning over, aggressively running his hands through his hair and groaning, “This is a nightmare.” Get it off, get it off!

Grian tripped again, but this time he needed no help from tripwires. He was simply too lost in the agitation to walk properly, vaguely feeling Gaile make her way over to tug on the top of his head. He couldn’t stop himself from snapping, “Gaile, not now.”

A small whine escaped her, and then he heard the noise of two tiny wings flap away. Part of him felt bad. Wait, all of him felt bad, it was just that now some of it was emotional shittiness. Yay, point one for Grian. He could only curl up on the ground, shaking pathetically until his body stopped being so hyperactive. He was pretty sure Gaile accidentally snatched his communicator when she ran away, so he couldn’t call for extra help; probably karma for the way he yelled at her.

Suddenly, the noise of human footsteps came from his left, and it was just enough for his body to send more adrenaline his way to get up and lean on his arms. He watched as Ethoslab stepped into view, unaware of what he would bear witness to until he lifted his head from his feet to make eye contact with Grian.

The two of them could only stare, both due to some kind of shame. Grian felt bad that Etho came across his little breakdown, and Etho probably felt bad for intruding on Grian’s privacy. Kindred spirits they could be sometimes.

“Uh,” Etho said as eloquently as he normally was.

Grian could feel everything as his fingers clenched in the dirt beneath him, trying to grasp for some semblance of grounding (in more ways than one, haah) before he passed out, “S-Sorry you had to see me l-like this. Just c-currently losing my mind.”

Etho looked around, like the idea of what would help Grian the best would appear out of thin air, “I can see that. Do you know what triggered it?”

Grian started taking shaky deep breaths. Hoo, hooooooo, “O-Old prank that was never s-set off. Walked right into it. Sand is all up in m-my wings.”

Etho grimaced, “Yikes, that sounds less than pleasing.”

That was certainly one way of putting it.

“Y-Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend it myself either,” Grian grit out, trying to make himself no longer feel like he was dying. “Again, sorry f-for showing up unexpectedly, I’ll just-”

Grian had somehow managed to stand up again, only to collapse as soon as he thought he was sturdy. At least he didn’t faceplant this time, because Etho had run over to grab him by his jumper near his wings before he could. The tightness of the fabric was a good feeling, especially considering how much it seemed to be loosening up the uncomfortable pieces of sand lodged in between his limbs.

That was when Grian remembered how panic could have you make the dumbest decisions of your life and how much he did not care. He quickly turned to Etho, grabbing the man by the shoulders to make sure he was listening, “Etho, please, you h-have to clean my wings. Get rid of the sand for me.”

Etho started at Grian like Grian told a confusing joke before his eyes bulged in slight panic, “W-What? Dude, I can barely take care of my own hair.”

Grian started somewhat hugging himself, “I know, I k-know, I’m sorry, if this were any o-other situation I wouldn’t ask, but my body fu-feels like it is on fire and I ne-need it to stop.”

Etho flickered his vision around the area again, “I’ve literally never touched a hybrid’s feathers even once in my life. I’ll totally botch it up.”

“N-Not if I teach you,” Grian shook his head. “I c-can give you step-b-by-step instructions.”

Etho seemed to be weaning under the pressure, “... Promise to go easy on me if I mess it up?”

This time, Grian could not have nodded his head faster even if he tried, “P-Promise promise.”

Etho still seemed unsure, but through the power of feeling guilty just enough over his friend, he relented with a sigh, “Okay, I can help then. Just this once though!”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Grian said while turning around to sit with his back to Etho. “This should ho-hopefully be the last time anyone else gets involved anyway. N-Now, you just gotta kneel a-and then I’ll go more in d-depth.”

It took Etho a few seconds, but eventually, he did as told and was running his fingers through Grian’s wing, “Now what?”

Grian couldn’t tell if the twitching he was doing was from the preening or his anxiety attack, “First you straighten them out, th-that way, you can find all the m-muck and grime hidden away in the cr-cracks.”

Unfortunately, due to the obvious issue, Grian was not able to drift like he had all the other times. The gravelly sensations Etho was clearing away were too prevalent for Grian to ignore, and on top of that, Grian was too busy making sure he reassured Etho enough to keep the guy confident in his abilities. Despite the whole “having a breakdown” thing, though, it still felt really nice.

Sure, Etho wasn’t exactly the Hermit you would go to when you needed emotional help; lord knew the guy had enough problems of his own. His hands were minutely trembling, showcasing just how out of his depth he felt, just how worried he was about screwing up. However, that simply made his cleaning session a lot more exact.

In his efforts to try his best, he was making sure not a single feather was crooked nor ruffled. When he got to the part where he needed to get rid of all the dirty bits, it felt like he was examining the wings with a spyglass so he didn’t miss anything, not even the tiniest speck of dust. But that included moments like him plucking a particularly nasty piece of sand out of Grian’s wings that made Grian gasp in pain.

“Sorry!” Etho jerked away, electing to continue much quieter. “Sorry, was that bad?”

Now that Grian could actually think again, he let out a deep breath and shook his head, “No, that just happens sometimes. Wings are delicate, so there will be moments of pain you can’t avoid.”

Etho’s breathing was heavy enough to be heard, but once Grian explained what his status was, Etho was back to being calm. Well, as calm as he could be in this situation, “That sucks.”

Grian hummed, “You don’t know half of it, buddy.”

The rest of the preening session finished as normal. Grian still never got dopey like before—the leftover adrenaline made sure of that—but he could still appreciate the stimulation while it lasted. Honestly, he could have called it quits right as Etho pulled on a few feathers, as most of the irritating sand fell out then, but… he felt compelled to let Etho keep going. Mainly because the guy seemed like he needed the pick-me-up.

“Okay, okay,” Etho said. It sounded like he was speaking to himself as he walked to sit criss-cross in front of Grian, “Is that everything?”

Grian tilted his head to the side a little as he flexed his wings to check it out, “Mmmm yep! Feels like a brand new pair of clean pants! Thanks, Etho.”

Etho nodded, his hands fidgeting in his lap, “No problem. Just… sorry for what I did.”

Grian blinked, “What? You didn’t do anything wrong; I said they were good.”

Etho was reluctant to point at what he considered the problem to be, “Well, I don’t know how I achieved it, but I know the wings didn’t look like that at the start.”

Ah, yes, Grian’s list of personal hobbies included digging his own grave! It was even one of his favorites! Kill him now, please!

“Oh! Geez, sorry,” Grian quickly explained. “I’m a ‘shifter hybrid,’ meaning I can change my wings into various species of winged things. To properly clean them I need to have them in the ‘default’ mode, so to speak. I guess I forgot to warn you ahead of time.”

Etho stared at Grian unblinking before shrugging his shoulders, “Nah, you’re good. It’s not like you could come up with a cohesive thought back there. As long as nothing is wrong with them.” Etho pushed up on his knees to stand before holding a hand out to Grian, “Want some help?”

Grian took it without saying anything. Once he was standing as well, he brushed the front of his clothes down to get rid of residue sand, “Alrighty, that should be the last of it. Seriously, you did great, don’t beat yourself up.”

Etho looked behind Grian to watch as the wings morphed back into their colorful parrot look, “If you say so. Does anyone else know of your… shifter status?”

Now it was time to play damage control. Why did Grian allow the panic to make rash decisions again? “Only a few, but if you can, don’t tell anyone else. Kinda want to keep this hush-hush for personal reasons.”

Thankfully, Etho was understanding. He even pinched his thumb and pointer together to run them over his lips like he was zipping something shut, “Of course. I would be remiss to not respect how important secrets are considering, well, me.”

Right, Etho was the most reserved of all the Hermits. TFC might not hang out with others all that often, but when he did, he was pretty open. Etho could be seen around the server more than TFC, but he elected to stand on the sidelines quietly. No one could tell why; it could be some kind of habit formed from a nasty past or it could simply be social anxiety. They knew not to push, though, and Etho made sure not to push just as much.

“Awesome,” Grian finished. “Thanks again, I owe you one.”

Etho nodded one last time, “Just make sure your dragon doesn’t mess anything of mine up? I’m sure she’s wonderful, but she also likes to play. A lot. I saw her flying overhead, but I’m not sure where to.”

Crap, “Oh Gods, Gaile. I need to go find her immediately.”

Grian took off right after that, Etho waving goodbye until Grian was out of sight. Etho sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t need to say anything else, he simply went back to walking in the direction that would lead him to his original destination. He hoped Grian was able to sort out whatever it was he needed to sort out with his dragon.

Grian got back to Boatem in record time, landing haphazardly and frantically looking around for one girl in particular, “Gaile?! Gaile, are you around here?!”

“Grian?” a much different girl’s voice called out. Grian rapidly turned around to make eye contact with Pearl, who was holding onto his baby in her arms. “I have Gaile for you.”

Grian could leap into Pearl’s arms and cry. He might have if Gaile didn’t leap off of her and into his first. He grabbed his communicator from her before bringing her close so they could nuzzle their foreheads together, “Oh, Gaile, I’m terribly sorry for snapping at you. I might have been in a crappy mood, but that doesn’t mean I should have taken it out on you.”

Gaile chirped, wrapping around his neck in a way that said she forgave him easily.

Grian was so happy about everything turning out alright that he almost forgot Pearl was watching him. She had to speak for him to look back at her, “Well, glad to see that you’re okay. This little gal dropped in on me unexpectedly, panicking as if something had happened to you.”

Grian nervously laughed, scritching Gaile’s chin as he kept looking at Pearl, “Well, something kind of did, but I was able to sort it out. Thanks for looking out for her, I owe you one.”

Pearl placed her hands on her hips with a grin, “Aw, it was no biggie! Anything for one of my best friends!” She leaned over to pull Grian into a headlock, pushing her fist into his hair to ruffle it while Gaile made huffing noises that vaguely sounded like laughter. While they were in their friendly scuffle, Pearl got a little serious.

“You might wanna pull out that communicator of yours, though,” Pearl warned, making Grian jump out of her hold to do just that. “You sent something to Mumbo that got him pretty worried as well.”

Moving to his private messages with Mumbo, Grian’s eyes widened as he realized what must have happened. Right before the untriggered prank fell on Grian, he managed to get a little bit written down before it all went to shit. Too bad “little” meant “nearly nothing,” apparently.

You whisper to Mumbo Jumbo: a
Mumbo Jumbo whispers to you: ???
Mumbo Jumbo whispers to you: grian what does this mean
Mumbo Jumbo whispers to you: are you pranking me again

Grian whined, leaning his head back like a child in the middle of a tantrum.

Turns out not everything everything could go his way after all.

Chapter Text

Grian genuinely thought that this would be the day he would get his shit together.

Yes, he put fixing the machine off for the umpteenth time again, but when he went looking for Mumbo, he didn’t have a panic attack, nor did another Hermit come out of his friend’s base to say Mumbo was incapacitated. Grian was so sure that he could finally get his problem fixed once and for all. Then he went on another forever search with no results, and his hope dwindled more and more.

Sitting on a rock next to Mumbo’s waterfall, Grian sighed while rubbing the back of his neck before relenting and pulling out his communicator. During his looking-for-Mumbo journey, he briefly ran to the other Boatem bases to see if Mumbo might have been over at them. He knew Scar and Pearl were off somewhere in the server, meaning he didn’t expect to see those two already, but Impulse being gone came as a surprise, so he might as well kill two birds with one stone.

As long as it wasn’t him that was one of the birds anymore. He had been getting beat on enough as it was, thank you very not.

Grian: has anyone seen mumbo? or impulse for that matter
PearlescentMoon: what do you need them for?
Grian: well i need mumbo to fix something for me, but i couldnt find him, and in my attempts to search for him i realized impulse wasnt here either
GoodTimeWithScar: oh buddy
GoodTimeWithScar: did you still not get that fixed?

That was a terrible sign.

Grian: noooooooo
Grian: why do you ask
GoodTimeWithScar: hate to be the one to break it to ya, but ALL the redstoners are off server today
GoodTimeWithScar: do you not remember mumbo telling you about that convention they were all heading to?

If there was anything Grian could do to convey his patheticness right then more than him shriveling up into a tiny ball, he would gladly take it.

He completely blanked on that. Mumbo brought it up literally every other day; he was so excited about going to this event. Heck, all of the Redstoners were in the same boat. Even Etho couldn’t stop vibrating about going to this thing. Of course Grian would have just the right amount of luck to time his procrastination tendencies on top of it. He couldn’t even give up and just go to another Redstoner, they were all gone!

Thankfully, his communicator beeped with a saving grace.

iskall85: im still here
iskall85: decided i didnt want to deal with too many strangers today, hah
iskall85: do you think i can help?

Screw it.

Grian: might as well try
Grian: when can you head over?
iskall85: right now, pretty much
iskall85: if that is okay
Grian: yeah, that’s great actually
Grian: the sooner the better
iskall85: awesome, be over in a jiffy

Grian sighed, feeling the tension in his shoulders leak away as he leaned his head back against the rocks he was sitting in front of.

Grian: thank you SO MUCH
Grian: its at my starter base so ill be over there!
iskall85: np :)

Rushing over to his base, Grian made quick work of getting his machine down to the main floor and in an open area so Iskall had plenty of room to work. He did it just in time, too, seeing as Grian was wiping the sweat off his brow that came from carrying the thing right as someone knocked on his door. The person had only enough time to say a few words before Grian was opening it.

“Grian! I’m- oh, hello,” Iskall paused in surprise before getting into serious mode. “Alright, where’s the thing that needs fixing?”

Grian spoke as he began to walk, Iskall following close behind, “I brought it down for easier access. It’s a wing preening machine, and I think what’s mainly broken is some wiring on the inside as well as some of the brushes. Gaile decided to be funny one day and rip it to shreds.”

Iskall winced sympathetically, kneeling to get a closer look, “Yeah, babies will do that to ya. Where is she today anyway?”

Grian crossed his arms as he got situated to watch Iskall attempt to fix his device, “The gals are meeting up today and asked if they could borrow her for it. Gaile has been needing to get out more, and there’s only so much I can do in that regard, which is why I let them take her so she could get some playtime in. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stress brings her back with tiny flower crowns she can wear.”

Iskall barked a laugh, finally getting an outer panel to fall off the machine so he could see inside, “Wouldn’t surprise me either. Probably’ll be cute, though.”

“Oh, most definitely,” Grian spoke wholeheartedly. He hoped Pearl took lots of pictures for him.

Then it was silent. Iskall was hard at work examining the bits and pieces of Mumbo’s redstone, Grian watching intently. Grian even found himself mirroring Iskall a little, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his lips to show how focused he was on Iskall being focused. It allowed his thoughts to drift… elsewhere. To more areas surrounding the idea of concern.

Iskall was chatty. If you got him going about his projects or his friends or anything at all, you were accepting the fate of being talked to for the next few hours. Of course, none of the Hermits minded, and if they were on a time crunch, Iskall was good about shortening his stories so no one ended up late to anything. The joy of being a Hermit was having everything perfectly balanced; yes, including the crazy stuff.

Which was why Iskall’s silence was so… unnerving. Especially considering he was working on redstone in front of someone else, and that someone else also being one of his closest friends. Iskall was very animated when showing off his skills, using gesturing hands and large inflections in his voice, saying Look at me! Look at me! Are you proud of me yet? But he’s here, in Grian’s base, as quiet as a brick. Even Grian bringing up Stress didn’t get Iskall to rapid-fire out tangents about their numerous hangouts together.

Grian didn’t like that at all.

“So, I saw Etho a while back,” Grian began. “Weren’t you guys hunkering down together this season?”

Iskall hummed, taking a second to register the question, “Oh, yeah, definitely. The guy’s a great neighbor, even though he tends to be secluded. He’s given me advice about builds I never considered before too, so that’s a bonus.”

Then Iskall was silent again.

Grian really didn’t like that.

But before Grian could panic too much, Iskall sighed and placed the panel back. He stood up using one of his knees, turning around to face Grian with a look that made Grian uneasy. That expression meant something less than pleasant was about to happen.

“Grian, I always hate being the bearer of bad news,” Iskall started. It was true, Iskall couldn’t handle disappointing even a brick wall, “But I’m not sure this machine is fixable.”

Wait.

Grian blinked in shock, “Huh? Why?”

Iskall grimaced, rephrasing his words, “Actually, Mumbo could probably fix it now that I think about it, since he has a knack for older mechanics and this is one-point-thirteen edition redstone. With all the new changes redstone has had, I don’t really remember how the old stuff works, so he’s going to be your best bet. How long have you had this thing?”

Long enough, was Grian’s first thought. “Oh man… Dude, I am so sorry. Mumbo made this thing for me in Season 6. It never occurred to me that not updating might be a problem-”

Iskall waved Grian off comfortingly, “Eh, don’t worry about it. It’s an unspoken rule in the Redstoner circle that you should keep at least some knowledge of older redstone just in case stuff like this comes up. Considering how often Hermitcraft stays on top of things, I just figured it wouldn’t affect me. Guess I went and botched that up too.”

See, the nature of everyone forcing Grian to examine himself and his unhealthy behaviors had allowed him to pick up on certain stuff easier. Being able to look back on his life and say yikes, that was probably something he should not have done was something he reluctantly admitted to being a good thing. Iskall’s words there? Were setting off those exact same alarm bells. Honestly, it felt uncomfortably similar to something Grian had already been through, like-

Like the Expedition with Ren.

Would it be rude to leave Iskall alone so Grian could go jump into a pool of lava real quick?

For real, Grian had been seeing just how much martyrdom ran through the Hermitcraft server with his entire “recovery” situation. Everyone looked at him differently, like they should have realized he was suffering despite him hiding it with the intention of them never knowing. Some of them even looked like they should have been able to stop it from happening in the first place because some random teenager on a server most people weren’t aware existed was something that they should have been able to help.

The only one that feasibly could have done anything would have been Pearl, and even then Grian wanted to lightly smack her for thinking she could fight a God.

(Well, she might be able to, just not those ones.)

Iskall had been somewhat cagey around him recently, and the fact that Grian never considered their most recent interaction before the whole “holy shit Grian your life sucks” debacle might have had a part in that was completely on him. No shit Iskall was cagey, he probably felt like walnuts for setting off Grian during the big spiral.

Grian was so caught up in what should have been an obvious realization that he wasn’t fully comprehending his actions of walking toward Iskall and setting his hands on Iskall’s shoulders while keeping his head down, facing the floor with his bangs hanging over his eyes.

Iskall stared at Grian like Grian had lost his mind, “Dude? Are you okay?”

“I…” Grian probably had, “am such an idiot.”

Iskall jumped at that, “What? Dude, no you’re not. Are you concerned about the old redstone again? I just said that was no big deal.”

Grian still shook his head. Sure, he could try and be a little more tactful about this, but the bigger problem was trying to figure out a way to help Iskall out like he did with Ren, except less on the nose, “No, it’s not that. I’m saying I’m stupid because I’m getting torn up over not having a machine when I can just have you clean my wings for me! Problem solved!”

Wait, what?

Grian thought those words at the same time Iskall made an expression similar to the feeling of them, “Woah, Grian, that’s… I mean, not that I’ll turn you down if you’re serious, but are you sure you want me to do it?”

Grian paused. Well, the answer was not really, but not for the reasons Iskall was probably coming up with. Grian still wanted to kick the habit of others preening him before it got to be too late, and asking someone like Iskall to do it would be a giant enabler of said habit. It was almost a rock and a hard place situation Grian had landed himself in.

But… he could make an exception to help a friend out, yeah? After all, “Iskall, of course I want it to be you. You’re one of my best buds, one of my closest confidants, why wouldn’t you be perfect for the job?”

Iskall could only stare, “Well…”

“Wait, hang on, I almost forgot,” Grian interrupted. “You’re going to need to hold onto your socks for this.”

Then Grian was jumping away from his friend to turn around, stretching his wings and doing a sort of shimmy-shake. He could tell Iskall went from normal confusion to flabbergasted confusion, because as soon as the red, yellow, and blue dripped off his feathers to become purple, Iskall was no longer sputtering and instead gasping.

Grian turned back around with a genuine grin, “So, I’m not actually a full parrot hybrid. I’m what they call a ‘shifter hybrid,’ meaning I can change my wings whenever I want. Since this is their default mode, I have to clean them this way.”

Iskall was still staring at the limbs like he had been told how the universe was created.

Grian walked over and re-placed his hands on Iskall’s shoulders, this time more confident, “Only a few other people on this server know this about me. C’mon, if I trust you enough to tell you this, then can you trust me enough to say you’ll do a great job, right? All you need to do is straighten the feathers and pick out dirty things that shouldn’t be there. Etho was able to do it and his hands nervously shook only a little bit.”

Iskall looked like he was on the verge of declining, but before Grian could whip him into shape even more, “Alright, I’ll be happy to clean your wings for you.”

Grian could cheer. Instead, though, he quickly plopped down on the rug in the room and made sure he faced a direction that had his wings in an area with plenty of space. This rug wasn’t as comfy as the one he used with Scar, Keralis, and Stress, nor did he have his pillow, but hey, if his back survived not having it for Etho’s session, then he could probably live through one more pillow-less.

“You can start whenever. I’m ready to go,” Grian prompted after a few moments of nothing happening.

Afterward came the sound of slow footsteps moving closer to him. The noise of knees thumping as they hit the ground came next, and suddenly, Grian had to try very hard to not let any squeaks or chirps exit his mouth as fingers graced his feathers. He thought to himself that this time he would not get lost in the sauce, that he would be able to stick with it to give support to his insecure friend.

But dammit, he should have considered the fact that this was Iskall he was thinking about. The guy who was ready to do whatever pesky idea Grian had planned without a second thought, one of the few guys Grian could point at in Season 6 and say yep, that’s my new home, one of the few guys Grian could wholeheartedly use to define the word trust. To think Iskall could doubt his place in Grian’s life was downright a crime.

Also, Iskall was just good. His fingers were on the larger side, but not so much that he couldn’t squeeze into nooks and crannies that tended to hide squirrely bits of dirt. He was almost robotic with his movements, like he was still working on Grian’s broken machine, but it benefited him greatly. Something about the rhythmic patterns he used to adjust Grian’s feathers was a very successful maneuver on his part.

Wow, Grian didn’t even end up tipping forward! His sensitivity to this kind of thing must be dwindling, which- hang on. Wasn’t he just talking about wanting to avoid that?

“Okie dokie, I think I got everything,” Iskall suddenly stated. He began to stand, picking Grian up by worming his arms into Grian’s armpits sort of like two giant hooks. Grian was set down and immediately released, no wobbliness in his knees to be found. Shit, this was exactly what he didn’t want happening-

He turned around to show his slightly panicked eyes to Iskall, and when he realized how that could be taken the wrong way, he cooled his expression. He would have time to panic later, this was for a friend and for a friend only, “Yes, you did it perfectly. Thank you, Iskall, this will keep me sated for weeks.”

Iskall opened his mouth to reply, but since Grian had been making rash decisions all day, he figured he could make one more in the form of rushing forward and wrapping Iskall in a weak hug. Okay, thank Gods, at least some of him felt like jelly.

Iskall was frozen for all of two seconds before hugging his friend back, “It was no problem, dude. Happy to help you out.”

They eventually had to split so they could get ready for bed; Grian wanted to shower, and Iskall needed to get back to his base. Neither of them said anything as they went to the exit, Iskall opening the door and Grian saying thank you with a nod. Iskall shutting the door made it so his mind could focus on one key detail he wasn’t aware of while inside.

“Woah,” Grian blinked. “You really are perfect. I had no idea we went at that for so long it became night!”

Iskall hummed. They both watched the night sky for a few seconds before he sighed as well, “Thanks for letting me do that. I was wondering if you were starting to kind of hat-”

“Buh buh buh,” Grian shut Iskall up by placing a finger over his mouth, “If you guys won’t let my mind come up with worse case scenarios, then I need to return the favor! But seriously, maybe just ask about the status of our relationship next time. I didn’t ask you guys how you felt about me, and look what happened.”

Iskall chuckled, rolling his eyes as he put on his elytra, “You got me with that one. Welp, have a good rest of your night. We need to hang out more after this!”

They both shouted their last words, as Iskall was flying away at a rather quick pace. Grian cupped his mouth, “Yes we do!” Once Iskall was out of sight, Grian brought his hand down and spoke in what was almost a whisper, “Yeah, we do.”

Walking back inside and getting ready for bed, Grian felt his communicator beep with a message.

Mumbo Jumbo whispers to you: Scar told me that you needed some redstone fixed. Is that still true or did someone beat me to it?

A pang stabbed Grian’s heart, making him hesitate. Ah, everyone was back from the convention it sounded like. He still responded anyway.

You whisper to Mumbo Jumbo: no, it still needs fixing
You whisper to Mumbo Jumbo: what day works best for you to come over?

Even though he was expecting this to happen eventually, Grian was going to miss the feeling of real hands on his wings.

Chapter Text

It was the blackest part of the night.

Grian stood next to his finally fixed wing preening machine, staring at it like this was his first time seeing it. Gaile slept peacefully on top, letting out little wheeze-snores that emphasized how comfortable she was. It was right there, all Grian had to do was walk forward, sit down, and let the machine do its thing. Heck, Mumbo even upgraded it! It would work five times better than it did before!

And yet… Grian was unmoving, staring at the thing like he had no idea how it worked.

Well, he did know how it worked. He established constantly that he knew how it worked. He knew how it worked so well that he had practically been scrambling to get back to using it. Grr, this was exactly why he was getting more and more annoyed at himself every time he got his friends’ help with his wings.

Because the brushes connected to the device would feel irritating now that he knew what another person’s fingers could do. Because Grian kind of missed the drifty feeling that required needing another player’s assistance to stand up afterward, which the machine couldn’t cause. Because dammit, he knew his friends loved him, but there was just something so intoxicating about feeling it as well as knowing it.

Gaile let out a little sneeze before going back to calmly snoozing.

Sighing, Grian walked over to her, “I bet you broke it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted this to happen. Man, you really are way too annoying for your own good.”

Pressing a kiss to her head, making her happily hum, Grian made his way outside and started stretching his wings once he had enough distance from his base. He didn’t not want to start the night by smacking his wing into the side of the building and bruising something again. He hesitated for a second, but eventually, he was taking off and heading to one specific destination.

Since flying was so innate to Grian, he managed to get lost in his thoughts as he did so. It wasn’t until the bright lights of the lighthouse he was aiming for came into view and somewhat blinded him did he remember exactly what he was doing. He paused in the air, looking at the spire with subconscious yearning before finally biting the bullet and heading down.

He landed on the main entrance path leading to a more hut-like structure, slowly making his way toward the front door. He vaguely heard Ray whinny from his stable off to the side. Taking a deep breath and shaking some tension out of his body, Grian took one last step closer and knocked exactly three times. He jutted back, quickly realizing that trying to get rid of tension was a moot point when he stiffened immediately and closed his eyes. The only thing he could do was hear the door slowly creak open.

“Grian?” Xisuma asked quietly. “What are you doing here this late? Is something wrong?”

Taking a deep breath, Grian exhaled and opened his eyes, morphing both thumbs and pointer fingers into the shape of a gun to bring them together and gesture the shape around as he spoke, “I… need your help. With a thing of mine. That I can’t do by myself. But it’s totally okay if you want to say no!”

Xisuma took a moment to reply, “I would love to help you, but I do think you need to tell me whatever the thing is that is causing you trouble before I can.”

Ah, that’s a fair point.

Come on, moron, you literally flew all the way out here and now you can’t say it? You just look stupid- “Can you preen my wings for me?”

Xisuma seemed to be surprised at that, “Oh, really?”

Grian knew this was a bad idea, “Nevermind, I figured this might have been a stretch-”

Grian turned around and prepared to skedaddle, but a hand gently grabbed his wrist before he could take off, making him turn back around in a panic to see Xisuma looking at him softly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like your request was ridiculous.“ X elaborated. “I also didn’t say it because I don’t know how to; I used to help a few older Hermits preen in the earlier seasons. I just wanted to double-check your feelings about this. You tend to be private with your wings, not that it’s a bad thing, but I figured I should make sure you really want this before acting presumptuously.”

That made sense.

Grian blushed like a madman and turned his head toward the floor, but that didn’t stop him from shyly nodding his head, confirming why he came over in the first place.

Xisuma smiled, lightly tugging on Grian’s sleeve, “Then yes, I’d be very happy to offer my assistance. Come in, it’s cold out there.”

Grian was silent as he let his Admin move him, walking around him to shut and lock the door once they were both situated inside the base. Grian examined the place, enjoying the homely aesthetic the hut had. There wasn’t much: some small bookshelves, a few candles, and hung picture frames on the walls that surrounded pictures of each Hermit doing various things. A single chair sat next to a fire pit, and off in one of the corners was a door that probably led to a bedroom.

It felt very Xisuma-like.

Suddenly, fingers ran through his feathers, making him yelp and jump away. He turned around to look at Xisuma flummoxed, the Admin’s expression rather similar.

Xisuma could only blink, “Sorry, I guess I should have waited. I just went off the fact that most hybrids want to get down to business right away. Most prefer standing up even.”

“No, you’re okay,” Grian reassured. “I’m just… sensitive. Not really used to fingers in my wings just yet, hah.”

Xisuma struggled to comprehend that for a second, “Have you… never had another player preen you?”

Grian shook his head, “Well, no. Recently, I’ve had a few other Hermits help out.”

Xisuma still blinked uncertainly, “Before that…?”

Grian thinned his lips like he was being chastised, “That’s a little more complicated.”

Finally, Xisuma accepted that response, but not without seeming a little disappointed by it, “I see. So how do you like getting preened then?”

Grian took a deep breath, “There’s… one last thing you need to know before we start.”

“Hmm?” Xisuma was patient. Calm in the face of Grian’s internal storm.

Grian shook his hands a little as he let his wings morph like he had all the other times. Xisuma made no noise as the process finished, Grian electing to get the first word in before his Admin, “I’m a shifter hybrid, meaning these are my default wings. Only a few other Hermits know about it, so I would prefer it if you… didn’t tell anyone.”

Xisuma was back to just staring, but he got over that pause faster than he did the first one, “I promise. Your secret is safe with me, Grian.”

With that, most of the tension in Grian’s shoulders drained away. There was still a little, though, as the actual preening session still needed to happen, “Okay, alright, thank you.” Grian turned around and sat on the ground, flexing his wings a little to allow easier access to them, “Now you can go whenever you’re ready.”

Xisuma seemed to hesitate somewhat, but once he walked over and knelt, he was quick to get started. Grian twitched a little bit, minor shivers running through his body, but once they were over, he was able to truly appreciate the work that Xisuma was doing.

It felt like a smorgasbord of everyone and everything. Xisuma had the roughness of Scar’s hands, but also the delicate touch like Stress. He seemed to be as unsure as Etho, but that didn’t stop him from reassuring Grian that he was doing amazing like Keralis did, just without words. Grian couldn’t help but harken back to his experience with Iskall: it was all trust. Pure, unfiltered trust built up over a years-long friendship.

It was everything Grian hoped for and more.

“Grian, if you don’t mind me asking,” Xisuma said, breaking Grian out of his thoughts. “How did you clean your wings by yourself?”

Grian was in that floaty headspace again, so he answered pretty easily, “Mumbo made a machine for me.”

Xisuma wanted a little more, “What about before Mumbo?”

That caused Grian to freeze, making Xisuma pause as well. Before Xisuma could stop preening or apologize, Grian relented to telling some of the truth, “I… with great difficulty. Let’s put it at that.”

Xisuma hummed, continuing the session as normal. He could probably imagine what Grian did to clean the wings before ending up on the Hermitcraft server. Bending over backward painfully, pulling a few muscles to reach places that were hard to get to, probably used a few brushes or sticks to get areas that were straight-up not possible to clean with only hands. What he didn’t know was how much Grian loathed to look at them, making the process all that much harder.

But Xisuma didn’t want to turn this moment into a “take better care of yourself” lesson for Grian. Grian was well aware that some of his habits were less than ideal, and that was all he could do at the moment to start to work toward better ones. Grian came over tonight with a lot of uncertainty as to how Xisuma would take his request, and Xisuma planned to prove that Grian could still keep that faith he felt toward his Admin.

From then on out, it was quiet. The preening session finished as normal, Grian even lightly humming at one point. He didn’t really have the there-with-all to make less than human noises, so that would have to do in terms of getting his stimulation-based energy out.

“Okay, I got all of it,” Xisuma spoke, patting Grian on the shoulder comfortingly. He even shook it a little bit just to make sure Grian understood what he was saying, “Feel free to stand and see how it feels.”

Grian nodded a little too enthusiastically as he grabbed Xisuma’s hand on his shoulder and used it to stand. He was subconsciously aware of the fact that he got up no problem, not a single wobble to be found. Xisuma didn’t even need to offer more support, the Admin only needed to help yank him a little so he didn’t fall back down and that was it.

Stretching his wings out, Grian was satisfied with how smoothly the feathers ran together. He was quick in changing them back to his preferred state, also lightly blushing one last time as he said his goodbyes, “Y-Yes, they feel perfect. Thanks for the help.”

Xisuma moved to pat Grian on the back and follow him to the door, “Of course. Thank you for letting me help in the first place. Wing care is very important, they can get infected if you’re not careful.”

Grian would pay whatever God up above is torturing him by making him only be able to nervously nod as a response to stop, “Yeah, guess I got pretty lucky avoiding that, huh?”

Xisuma did that somewhat unhappy hum again, but the grin on his face stayed, “Perhaps. I heard Boatem is going to have a long couple of days this week, so be sure to get lots of sleep tonight.”

“You too!” Grian shouted as he took off again, making his way home at an average speed.

Once he managed to reach his starter base, the first thing Grian did was step inside, shut the front door, and slid down it on his back. His hair stuck upward on the wood from the action, making it look like Grian had a goofy haircut. He could only sit there breathing heavily, somewhat disbelieving what just happened.

He physically asked another Hermit to clean his wings out of his own volition. He didn’t have the excuse of a broken machine nor was he panicking and thinking irrationally. He was perfectly rational throughout the whole thing despite some moments of his anxiety spiking. He did all of that and it worked out even better than expected.

Grian eventually stood and went upstairs to go to bed. He was robotic as he changed into sleep clothes and crawled under his covers, staring at the ceiling still not sure if his brain would ever work again. At some point, Gaile made her way over and crawled under the sheets as well, curling up at his side. He felt his hand rhythmically scratch her back while he, yes, still stared at the ceiling.

Hm.

Right before he could close his eyes, his communicator beeped. Gaile let out a little sad noise when he stopped petting her, but he bumped her with his knee in a way that said he would be back really soon. Reading what caused the notification noise made his eyes slightly widen.

iskall85 whispers to you: hey, etho and i are going on an expedition tomorrow
iskall85 whispers to you: want to join?

Grian couldn’t move as he read the words on the screen, but once his brain registered what it had just taken in, he smirked.

You whisper to iskall85: why not, i dont have anything going on
You whisper to iskall85: also, are you free in a few weeks?
You whisper to iskall85: my wings will probs need cleaning again