First shot of 2021!! Excitement noises!!

So I watched Soul (great movie btw) and had this idea not long after of a hermit dreaming of playing an instrument but having a kinda bad instructor then losing confidence, then later being brought back up by another hermit. Thats the basic TL;DR

Plus we all need more platonic Mumbo+Stress in our lives.

Warnings:
-Stress' teacher is awful (they're just overall unhelpful as an instructor)
-Stress' expectations of herself are kinda high (inexplicit but it's there)

@ me if I miss anything

I don't actually play the violin so I'm sorry violinists if this is innaccurate. I am just a simple Band Kid.

1607 words

~3rd POV~

Ever since she was a child, Stress really only had one dream. It had all started ages ago on one of the most uncomfy swing down chairs surrounded by tons of people she hadn't known. Her father had insisted she would enjoy, but her short attention span was already giving out, with all this noise, an empty stage, Stress didn't understand at first. She remembered vividly the chatter of the crowd, followed by the chilling silence leading up to the first notes singing across the auditorium. How beautiful it sounded, how much it caught her off guard. When had people appeared under the bright spotlights? What were they holding?

Stress found herself lost in the music, swaying back and forth with the squeak of her chair as it tried to fold her tiny child form back with it. She didn't understand what was happening, just that she enjoyed the sound. Stress tried her best to study every instrument, most wood looking in the front, with long skinny things people held towards their mouths. Towards the back of the crowd on stage, everything seemed to be more shiny, with buttons and slides as opposed to strings. Her eyes kept falling back towards one section in particular, where people held what looked to be a tiny guitar up at their chins, the other hand holding a long thing that was held against the strings.

It's sound was beautiful. Like a bright yellow, mixing and dancing through the air with all the other sounds until it was a sharp, metallic, shiny grey in a sea of instruments by the time it reached her ears.

Stress later learned this instrument was called a violin.

Ever since that day, Stress hoped that she could one day make someone as happy as she was just by listening to the notes sway and dance as they sprang through the air and towards eardrums. Unfortunately, her chance never came. That dream was quickly crushed and turned to a puddle like liquids under the warm light of the sun. Her instructor was never pleased. There was always some problem with how she held herself, or what she was doing.

"Your posture is terrible."

"You're holding the bow wrong."

"You didn't play that note right."

After awhile, going back to lessons just to be put down instead of taught seemed pointless. Stress found herself more often discouraged whenever she held the instrument in her hand. That happiness she thought she would feel was instead boiling to frustration when instead of answering her questions or dealing with her concerns, her instructor would brush it off and still force her to play note after agonizing note until Stress could feel warm tears spilling down her face with all the criticism.

So, Stress' dream was quickly abandoned before it could blossom. What was the point? All her notes screamed in pain and crunched instead of singing. That yellow she imagined was slandered, dragged through the mud until it was so watered down as an ugly and dark green. Why should she try if she obviously was never going to get better? What was the point if she couldn't sound as brilliantly yellow as she wanted? Stress packed her violin away in the back of her closet, stuffed behind shulker boxes and chest monsters that would never see the light of day for years and years to come.

Running into Mumbo was an accident. Stress had been singing to herself as she quickly shook away the faint feeling of nausea that she always experienced with traveling through nether portals. Without thinking, she took a step off the floating portal island and took a rocket out as her elytra caught the wind. Stress launched forwards into the air, turning and scanning the jungle briefly for the skull she called home. Instead of flying into open air, Stress felt something smack into her from behind, her elytra twisting around it and sending them both hurdling towards the ground with such a heavy force that blinded her with confusion for a moment.

"Wha-" Stress started, twisting to try and see behind her. She was cut off by a laugh, but it sounded more fearful than anything.

"I'm sorry! I didn't see you!" Mumbo screamed.

"Mumbo!" Stress screamed back. "Let go before we hit the ground!"

Panicked and shakily, Stress lit a firework rocket to try and blast away. She was successful, body flying away from the ground just mere seconds before her death. Her companion, however, did not seem to escape with his life. Stress took a moment, drawing in a deep breath as she tried to land safely. All of Mumbo's items were scattered across the green jungle floor, intertwined in leaves and brush. She picked them all up thoughtfully though she did not avoid laughing as she took an extra moment to eye the torn elytra threads as she packed it all away in a shulker box and started her flight towards not her base, but Mumbo's.

She found Mumbo in his storage room, arms cradled around his chest as he drew in deep, shaking breaths. The pain was momentary, but blinding. Stress plopped down the magenta box next to his figure.

"I'm sorry," He spoke after a moment, rifling through his things, getting himself situated. "I really didn't see you."

Stress giggled. "It's alright, we all make mistakes."

Mumbo's eyes flickered to relief, chocolate brown softening as he stood on his feet, shining purple decorating his body again. "Yeah," he sighed lightly before adding, "mine just tend to turn out deadly."

Shaking her head, Stress moved to pick up her shulker. It bumped something on its way up, knocking over what looked to be some sort of black case. Stress recognized it immediately. "You play violin?" The mustached man stopped, turning to see what Stress was looking at as she placed the case properly back where it had been leaning.

"Yeah," he blushed. "Not often or anything, I'm not too good,"

Stress knew that feeling. Old memories resurfaced, ones she could hardly remember. They crawled out from the darkest corners of her mind, shouting and screaming for attention all at once. Stress brushed it off with a laugh. "Yeah, I used to play pretty badly, too."

Mumbo laughed at that. "I bet you weren't awful,"

"My instructor once compared me to the likes of a dying dinosaur?"

Skeptically, Mumbo laughed. Not because he thought what Stress had said was funny, but because she honestly couldn't tell if it was a joke or not. "It just sounds like your instructor was awful. I bet you really aren't that bad, want to try?"

Stress shook her head, but before a verbal response passed her lips, Mumbo was already holding the instrument in his hands, plucking the strings and listening carefully as he tuned. "Mumbo really, I shouldn't."

"That's nonsense! Here, I'll play first if you're nervous." The redstoner held the violin up, resting on the chinrest. Truth be told, Mumbo felt like he was the nervous one. He had really only played for Iskall, but he didn't want Stress to feel like she couldn't play. After a moments hesitation, he brought the bow up and played one note, sliding on the neck and playing another until he produced a shaky, slow, but wonderful sounding rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He only gained confidence as he played. The sounds floated across the air like a fresh summer breeze, orange and sparkling and practically as citrus in taste. Stress's stomach boiled with a faint feeling. Mumbo was far from terrible. How was it so easy for him? How was he able to sound so good so effortlessly?

The moment was over as quick as it had started, brilliant orange fading away back to reality as Mumbo smiled faintly. "Simple, yeah? I wanna hear you play."

Stress hesitated at the man's outstretched arms, carefully taking the violin and almost cradling it in her arms as if it were a baby. Like the slightest thing done wrong would shatter the world. "I really don't know how to play-"

"I know you can," Mumbo smiled. "You just don't think you can."

Stress closed her eyes, drawing the instrument to her chin with shaky hands. Had Mumbo noticed she was shaking? She held her breath as she added the bow, crunching over the strings and getting an almost unrecognizable note, squished and inky black, mixing with other strings. Stress opened her eyes as she felt hands on hers, guiding.

"Relax your shoulders," Mumbo said gently. "That sound is happening because you're putting too much pressure on the bow. Also don't hold your breath. Just be in the moment."

The mustached man taught her through a simple tune, talking and guiding as she played. His hands were never far away, always fleeting and making small corrections. Mumbo always explained what for, what Stress needed to do. It was simple to understand, never raising above a casual conversation level, always in a tone she relaxed at.

Stress didn't know how long it had been, but she was playing on her own. Slowly, but by herself. Her fingers walked over the fretboard, obsessively playing and relaxing more and more. She couldn't help but notice her sound wasn't yellow like she had hoped, it wasn't even orange. Stress sounded more ocean-y. Light blue, wavy, but still dull. Like cyan concrete, but not as strong. She admired the color. When her movements stopped, Stress looked up at Mumbo. His eyes were bright, smile large.

"I knew you could do it." He said, rather teasingly. Stress didn't mind. She smiled back.

"Thank you." She said. Maybe she would try and find her old violin.

~~~

:D