Griangst One-Shots

Forbidden Feathers

Hurt/Comfort 

Grian POV

    This shouldn't be happening. I stared at the large, brown wings on my back. Why are they back? I cut them off a long time ago! This can't be happening. It's a dream. Wait. I know why. Cubs potion. He said it was a prototype healing. It grew back my wings. No! I don't want them back! I need to cut them off again. The hermits can't find out! Their going to experiment on me, or kill me, or lock me up, and I just can't take that chance! I have a blade in my bathroom that I use to, well, do something with. I can use that. I grab the knife, and put it to my wings. The razor sharp edge presses to my forbidden feathers. I love flying, but I love freedom more. It doesn't hurt for long. "Grian?" Oh no. 

     "Grian what are you doing?" Mumbo rested his eyes on my wings. "What are those?" No. No he  can't see this. Mumbo stared in horror at me. He hates me now, doesn't he? He's going to- "Grian, why do you cuts on your arms?" Wait, what? Why does he care about those? Does he not see my wings? "Grian, why would you cut yourself?" Mumbo whispered. 

     "I'm a monster Mumbo" I reluctantly answer. "I don't deserve to li-"

     "Don't you dare finish that sentence Grian!" Mumbo yelled, taking me by surprise. He dashed forward suddenly, throwing the knife away from my hand and pulling me in to a much needed embrace. "Don't you dare undervalue yourself." I was too stunned to speak. He-he doesn't care I'm an avian? He still loves me? I grab him as tight as I can, with both my arms and wings, sobbing. 

     "Why do you not want your wings?" Mumbo asked me after a while. 

     "Th-there were these p-p-people who s-said that avians were e-ev-evil, and s-someone believed t-them and t-tried to k-k-ki-kill m-me." I cried. It's a wonder that he understood me with all the stuttering and sobs. "I d-didn't want it to h-happen ag-again." 

     "It's ok Grian. No one on Hermitcraft would hurt you. Your safe here." Mumbo comforted me, running his hand through my hair gently. "No wonder you love flying so much." We just stood there until it got late. "Maybe we can cut slits in your sweater so you can wear it still?" 

     "Yeah." I mumble. "That might work." Mumbo cuts this strips out of the red sweater that I love to wear. 

     "That should work." Mumbo declared. "Try it on." I slip in the sweater, my wings fitting perfectly through the holes. "Is it good?" 

     "Comfy as ever." I confirm. 

     "Good, because we have somewhere to go." Mumbo stated, grabbing my hand. 

     "Wait, where?" I splutter, "What do you mean?" 

     "To thank Cub and Scar." 

     "Oh, ok." Wait. 

     How does he know it was Concorp?