#//yeah his self hatred is really coming out of him right now

[flamesignite]

He pulled his hand back from him when the other pulled away from him as he gave him a sad look. He knows the other wants him to be upset, but he had no right to be upset because the things he’s done he can’t take them back, and the inner self hatred he feels for himself show.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, Atem. I don’t have a right to be upset for how you feel. That’s what I am, a murderer, a war criminal. Those titles will follow me for the rest of my life. I can’t take back what I have done, and you have a right to feel the way you do about it. If you don’t wish to be with me for this reason alone, I understand.” He looks at him seriously.

“This is something I have done and I’m holding myself accountable. It won’t change the past, it won’t bring back the people that are already gone because of me. I still wish to make everything right, even if I die in the process. That’s why I took this path, because I don’t want to see anyone suffer and I don’t wish to kill anymore people in such a way again.” He takes a shaky breath.

“I’m glad you were honest with me. Whether you understand or not why I think that, it’s because you’re a good person with a good heart. When you cause someone pain you feel guilty too. I don’t expect you to just sit there and accept the things I’ve done. Nobody should accept it, the things I did were terrible and should be condemned. I was naïve and a fool to think at first what we were doing was just following orders. I should have stopped them from doing this, I should gotten replaced, but I was too much of a coward.. so I went through with it, I continued to do as ordered, when I did it I wasn’t myself, i wasn’t the young teen that I used to be with dreams of protecting my nation. I was a monster, a murderer, following orders. I never forgot the people I’ve killed. I remember all of their faces. My brain doesn’t let me forget. These haunting memories will follow me for the rest of my life.”

He looks down looking at the hands as they shake softly as he whispers. “This is why I never wanted to get close to anyone. I don’t deserve it, and if you don’t wish to be with me because of this, I won’t stop you. If you hate me truly, if you don’t wish to be with me because of all that I’ve done, you don’t have to stay. I want to be with you, but if you really don’t want all of me, if you don’t want any of my demons that will follow me for the rest of my life even after death, I won’t stop you from walking away right now. “ He swallowed softly, his shoulders trembling.

“What right do I have? I never deserved any of this, yet when you accepted me for me, I was surprised.. Especially after seeing the archive… you still stayed, you even said that these blood stained hands deserve to hold the person I love. I won’t force you to stay if you don’t want to. I love you, you’re my everything. You’ll always be my everything. It’s up to you.. I don’t have a right to ask for your hand. After all that I’ve done… I don’t deserve happiness.”

This was his inner self hatred coming out of the wood work, it hadn’t been as bad as it usually was because of Atem always being there to make him happy and tell him how much he meant to him. With the real feelings Atem had though, they came back ten fold, reminding him how much of a pathetic piece of garbage he thought he was.

"What are you doing?!" Atem snapped back, flinching at Roy's touch as soon as he felt it, shifting away from him. As he looked at Roy, his eyes were no longer flickering red, but that familiar softness of purple once again, hot tears streaming down his face (he had to have run out of them to shed by now).

"I just called you a murderer! My own fi- my boyf- y-you... I called you heartless and a murderer! I just said that I don't forgive the actions I have no right to pass judgement on! I belittled the desire of someone who wants to start a family with me because he destroyed so many families, so many innocents, in a single snap!" Roy may or may not have heard that during the outburst but he definitely heard it now. "And you have the audacity to try to comfort me and tell me it's okay?! What is wrong with you?!"

Everything was out in the open thanks to that dark other, as once again he succeeded in exposing Atem for who he really was: a walking contradiction, a failure of a supportive partner, but most of all... a weak, pathetic, and overemotional Coward.

"The one thing I told myself to bite my tongue on... because I wasn't involved. Because everyone else had looked past it. Because Aibou forgave you! The one thing I told myself to never even think about, not for a second, because I didn't want to hurt you! I didn't want to undo everything we had built because I couldn't look past what you've done! And you're telling me it's okay?" He felt his arms wrap around himself, a sign that a certain emotion was starting to creep up on him. "This isn't okay! None of this is okay! Listen to what I had just said! Does none of that hurt you? Make you sad, or angry, or... something? Anything?!"

"I... I should have never watched that archive, and just lived in ignorance. At least then... things would have been easier. Now..." Hitched breaths were coming out of him as his voice choked up, body starting to wear out from all his crying. "I've ruined everything."

[imaginariumwanderer]

Mkay last post before logging off. Featuring silly pixel art I made w/ my mouse.

This chart was actually made out of pure self-indulgent a while back with no intention of being posted, I ended up scribbling(?) all over the thing. Hopefully it's readable when zoomed in.

It's "my ship in 5 minutes" but I can make it 30 if you want. WARNING: Tons of sappy yapping+pixel art download under cut.

About "tropes": The trope is called Angel-Devil shipping, oh but I don't think PV is an angel. He's more like a God for SM (at least that's my preference)… Thinking at all the possible tropes that suits them make me really wonder why some people consider Shadowvanilla a crack/pro ship. Enemies to lovers or villain/hero ships have been pretty archetypal since the day of olds. Compared to all the ships I've encountered in the past… Shadowvanilla is more or less the "slightly out of the norm" on the "problematic ships scale" <- typing this out make me feel like an old fandom veteran haha

About "how it happens": I have no idea where to put PV on that chart. He's the one who approached first, but not out of romantic intents, him falling for SM is as unexpected as can be. SM fell first and slowly, and in 'slow' I meant decades upon decades. It's inevitable, painfully so, spending all those years watching over this cookie who's so perfect in his imperfections, how could one not feel something? Of course it's not so simple, that 'something' is a horrid mixture of disgust, envy, hatred, understanding, both the need to preserve and destroy… And maybeee the tiniest crumb of affection? SM realized something around the first couple hundredth years mark, he then spends the next thousands in denial of it. No matter. Whether it's PV or the Soul jam, his birth-given rights. SM knows what he wants and he WILL get what he wants. (He's wrong on both fronts. And somewhere in the back of his mind, SM knows that. But he'll never admit it. He'll never ever admit anything. Until it's too late. In a way, the same goes for PV)

About a certain someone who's not clingy, but would die for attention: I think PV gets lonely easily. As he's hyper-aware of himself and considerate of others, appearing clingy is the last thing PV wants. So PV would put extra efforts in taking care of those around him, be it cookies, animals or the greenery in his garden. A healer is always busy, always helpful. If he's always needed by others then he would never be afraid of being alone. Ironically enough, this ended up making PV come off as a little overbearing. As of late, the only ones able to see through the facade are Hollyberry cookie and you-know-who.

Other scattered thoughts: These two are completely different yet can't be more similar, on the various sliding scales they're either stuck to one another or are flung to both ends. On another note, honestly I can't see these two doing anything domestic together, the most I can see is cooking, which is basically the same as magic in the cookie world. Anyways, are they in "love"? Are they dating? Not really, no. It's more of a a parasitic-turned-symbiotic-soulbond, a will-they-won't-they-destroy-the-world situationship (iykyk) I do enjoy relationships that's hard to put into words. Their feelings are somehow romantic, somewhat deranged and something much, much deeper.

My desire to ship these two comes from the desire to see them grow beyound their archetypes. Being with PV does give SM the chance to be horrible as can be, yeah, but I'd like to think SM does have a personality outside of being a villainous tormentor. He spends so long observing others, and now for the first time he's being seen. Now SM have met someone who can see right through him, who can glimpse into those dammed vulnerabilities of his. Being with SM does let us see PV in his darkest moments, but it's at the same time the moments where PV can shine the most, to prove SM that his ideals isn't naïveté or simple platitudes. In canon, SM+PV works well as enemies, but it is the many contradictions born when romance is added into the mix that got me shipping. They simultaneously break down and bolster one another's greatest traits. Like binary stars, they orbit around the other, so close yet so far apart, lest they collide. They could've been so perfect for each other. But not in this life, or the next, or the next...

Pixel art time! I have way too much fun w/ Smilk's many faces, his and PV's combined came to around 22 expressions. These are quick to made due to their small size (25x25 px). Zip file includes both the og and 75x75 sizes. I don't mind if any Vanilla milkshakers might use these, just please remember to read the my art terms and conditions first! (which can be found in my About)

Some disclaimer: some images may have different names. This is the first time I'm using Getuploader so sorry if something broke.

Link

[steviewashere]

I don't know when I'll have the time to write this, but:

CW: Minor Mentions of Blood, Character Illness (Hanahaki), Use of Queer as a Slur

Hanahaki AU. Steve develops hanahaki over Eddie. It's not because, oh, Eddie's probably straight and doesn't know I'm into guys...

No, it's because, oh, Eddie doesn't want to be very close to me due to previous hangups he has.

Cut to Steve coughing up dark purple, almost black petals. Soft and wet and sticky to his fingers. Then, after some time, they become small buds. Small black rose buds with gentle, prickly thorns sprouting in his throat.

People around them find out quickly, very quickly, that Steve is experiencing Hanahaki. Everybody, sans Eddie himself, finds out they're related to Eddie—even as these black roses symbolize hatred, even as they come close to death and mourning in their meaning—they're still perfectly Eddie in color, shape, and beauty. Obviously, since nobody wants Steve to, y'know, die, they tell him to confess to Eddie.

However, Steve is faced with a secondary option at one of his doctor visits. A surgery. The petals can be removed, the thorns torn out and tossed, his lungs cleared...but his brain shocked empty of all traces of Eddie. All traces. He wouldn't know Eddie as he is now. He wouldn't know Eddie from when Dustin would ramble on and on and on about his new guy best friend. He wouldn't know Eddie as the mischievous troublemaker in high school.

And he especially wouldn't know Eddie as his childhood best friend that he drifted apart from many, many years ago. Nobody but them knows that part.

And soon, through decision, through the fear of death...Steve chooses to forget that part, too. He chooses to remove Eddie from his conscious. Every last part of him. With the decision made, the party members keep Eddie away, Robin goes through Steve's room and hides anything he has of Eddie's—including a little memory box of their childhood photographs, little trinkets he'd receive from Eddie, doodles and crushed flowers...crushed flowers that look similar to the ones Steve coughed up with a note attached to them: "For the prince to my prince. Mama said they're for royal people, and I thought they were beautiful. These are for you, because you're beautiful, too."

Steve kept all of it. Tucked neatly away for nobody but him to see. All these delicate, baby confessions of two queer kids in rural America, waiting for the right moment; though never getting that after a fall out in their relationship.

According to Eddie, the two drifted away due to rhetoric Steve's dad was spouting; rhetoric that was being passed on and spat right at Eddie's face from Steve's mouth. Even if he saw Steve change during and after Vecna, he'll always remember the last big fight in their friendship; the day he was called a queer.

When Eddie finds out, he's beyond devastated that Steve would make the choice to forget him. He gets it, Steve didn't want to die. He knows. But now he doesn't even have a spot in Steve's life? It cuts deep, it hurts.

He knows so much about Steve. Little details. Favorite things. Where his moles are. How he styles his hair. What he looked like before braces, before Tommy, before high school bullshit, before all the traumas. He knows who Steve really is, sweet and nurturing and nearly unbearably kind.

And now Steve doesn't know him. Doesn't love him.

He wishes he knew, because then they wouldn't be in this mess.

But Eddie gets to fall in love with Steve all over again. Shake his hand and introduce himself. Even though he wishes they could meet each other as kids, just like they did. Because Eddie remembers a dorky, geeky, self-conscious, timid little kid quietly asking him if they could play princes on the playground. And Steve remembers Eddie at twenty-one, full grown and stubborn; not the same shy kid, not the bubbly kid...just a man haunted.

But! Plot twist!!!

What if, yeah, Steve does forget Eddie...initially?

He meets Eddie again, for the first time. He gets to know Eddie. He begins a friendship with Eddie.

And then he begins getting these awful...awful migraines being around Eddie. Flashes of fractured, half-formed memories of some kid with big brown eyes and a shaved head, of a kid crouched down in wood chips trying to find a guitar pick he had dropped. Little glimpses of smiles: some with teeth missing, some with teeth growing back in, some with blood-stained lips, some with a blue tint. There's splintering voices, a little boy's and an older man's and a squeaky, pubescent voice—he hears his own name crackled around the edges, hears Prince Stevie cooed and King Steve snarled, soft words whispered through choking sobs and whip wild yelling.

He looks Eddie straight on at one point, his face open with concern, but all he sees is an angry, sobbing, red-faced, wet-faced little Eddie talking with Steve, "You think I'm...I'm a dirty queer? Why would you say that to me? No...no, Steve, keep your voice down, keep your voice"—and then, quieter, a whisper—"I thought I could trust you. I know I like boys, but that was a secret. You're an asshole, Steve. Go fuck yourself."

And when he blinks again, Eddie's concerned face staring back at him, all Steve does is cough and cough and cough. Eventually, he's hunched tight into himself and spitting directly into Eddie's palm. Out comes a fully formed black rose.

A bud that hadn't bloomed, that hadn't been removed. Sharp thorns and wet petals and an eye that swirls and swirls and swirls.

It all comes back to him, then, staring at that flower, floundering backwards, catching Eddie's eyes in a daze.

It all comes back to him.

How much he's always loved Eddie Munson.

Anyway, just like, a hanahaki surgery gone wrong, I guess. Like they all think it works until, y'know, it doesn't. They get close again and it floods back in. The very thing he tried to get away from.

I imagine that after Steve coughs up that fully formed rose, Eddie squishes it in his palm. The thorns cutting up his hand, the petals crushed between his fingers. And then he just...eats it. Like fully puts it on his tongue, chews it up between his teeth, and swallows the whole damn thing—yes, even the thorns. There's blood in his mouth, petals between his teeth, blood and drool on his hand.

And he lunges forward to grab Steve's face, to kiss him so roughly they could be devouring each other. And all they taste in each other are the bittersweet ghosts of black rose petals and the metallic harshness of one another's blood; Steve had hacked up blood, too, from the thorns cutting his throat.

And when they separate?

"You were the first boy I ever fell in love with," Eddie confesses, "you're the only boy I've ever loved. There's been nobody else in that place, Steve. Only you, after everything, have remained."

Okay. Now I'm done. I promise I'm done rambling. Would this be interesting as a fic? I don't know. It's fine.

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: jiaoqiu is shot on the battlefield. ❀ ˎˊ- jiaoqiu x gn!reader ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 1.2k ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: themes of war, major angst (it's not heart wrenching tho idt), jiaoqiu self hatred yay ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: yeah so this is all snobs fault btw. got obsessed w war themes and now im back in the building. have i ever written one nice thing for jiaoqiu that was fluffy and happy? no clue man ❀ ˎˊ- img credits

❀ ˎˊ- taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo , @moineauz , @kurogira

Sometimes, Jiaoqiu wishes he’d never wake up.

Death is a mercy at times like these. When his days are filled with rushing from one tent to another, lips spewing commands that are more muscle memory than words, and the constant feeling of bandages and flesh and dried blood under his calloused fingers, there isn’t anything he wouldn’t give up for a break.

Except he wouldn’t.

Because he is a healer.

And because he is a healer, he would give anything in the world for just another day.

He would pluck the berries from the antlers of the Plagues Author Themself, he would steal the stars, he would strip all of the flesh from his bones and offer it in their place if it meant his patients would make it home alive, if it meant that he wouldn’t have to watch another family crumble to the ground, fathers and mothers screaming for their babies, for the sons and daughters that would never again come home.

And so he runs. He ignores the exhaustion that lays like a weight on his back. He brushes aside the pangs of hunger that threaten to eat at his stomach. He forgets what it means to hear, truly hear, for in this wasteland they call a battlefield, everything is a haze. Voices, calling, crying, shouting, screaming, all blend into a numbing buzz that is just as familiar to him as the sound of his mother’s cooking.

And every night, once he is granted just the smallest bit of respite - not out of kindness, but out of necessity; no one needs a healer that can barely stand - and his eyes finally close, he wonders - would it really be so bad, if he passed here and now?

It is a selfish thought, and a terribly shameful one. He hates it more than he hates the smell of blood. Compared to his comrades, who risk having their heads bitten off if they’re lucky, or taken in as slaves if they’re not, he has it easy.

He doesn’t have to exchange blades with death.

He doesn’t deserve to wish for reprieve.

Not then, and not now.

Not when you’re looking at him like that.

His vision is blurry as he’s jostled back and forth. Adrenaline shoots through his veins like the bullet had through his stomach, so all he can feel is temperature. First, it’s hot. Then, it’s cold. His hands feel sticky. His limbs are limp.

He ought to be in a stretcher, but he doesn’t mind that he isn’t. Better to use it on someone else.

One of his ears is trapped between his head and your chest. On his right, all he can hear is your heartbeat, beating faster than the beat of a drum. It brims full with terror, fear that you should’ve long lost by the second week here.

He hates it.

He knows he shouldn’t move. Moving will only make it worse, and it will risks opening the wound wider than it already is.

But Jiaoqiu knows from experience that when one bleeds, it is not just blood that they lose, but also their rationality. He shifts in your hold, wincing as knives cut through the adrenaline. Your voice is muffled in his clogged ears.

And yet still, he scrapes together every bit of strength he has to lift his hand towards your face.

They say that when death comes, one’s life will replay before their eyes, to remind them of the life they lived. Jiaoqiu had never been one to entertain such superstitions, but now, he might start to believe.

A buried memory resurfaces.

The Yaoqing is bright. Artificial sunlight is warm on his skin. Maple leaves flutter down in a flurry of red, embracing him in their storm. The sky is clear - oh, so clear, and starskiffs are arriving to and fro.

If he could just- close his eyes, he could smell the sweet and savory scents of the various restaurants that lined his favorite alley. His ears twitched, straining for just a second, for the off chance that maybe, just maybe, he would hear the elders calling his name, fussing over how skinny he was and insisting that he eat more. Once upon a time, he’d found them endearingly annoying. Now, he would do anything just for them to chastize him again.

And then, there is you. You stand on a bridge, wind caressing you like a lover, your clothes blowing in a way that makes you nothing less than divine. You are younger, still full of life, and when you turn with the sun in your smile, he melts at the warmth.

And then he blinks, and there you are - grown, bags dragging at your glassy eyes, all of the fat of youth stripped away. And there he is, eyes hazy, body limp, veins sucked dried.

What have they done to us?

Your lips move with words he can’t spare the energy to read.

“Stop crying,” he whispers as his fingers ghost your cheek and his blood stains your skin. “Tears will save no one.”

Don’t waste them on me. Save them for someone who matters.

I know that, he imagines you say. Even through his blurred vision, your face is as clear as day. He can see the furrow in your brows, the broken glass in your gaze, every crinkle, every little imperfection that he’s burned into his memory.

So much agony, so much heartbreak. So many emotions that are not suited for the battlefield. Not when gunfire still rings into the open night sky, not when the air is filled with the clashing of swords and the smell of iron.

He wishes he could wipe the tears away. He wishes he could be strong like the Reignbow Arbiter and shoot all of your troubles away with a single arrow. He wishes that he was as strong as the Aeon, so that something as far away as “curing war” would be child’s play.

But he is mortal, and his strength is leaving him quickly. His hand falls like a dead weight as the sky is replaced by the tan cloth of the tents.

His breath scratches against his lungs. His eyes are beginning to close.

“Jiaoqiu!”

Is that you?

“Doctor, please- you have to keep your eyes open!”

He knows that, he wants to bite back. But it isn’t so easy, with the weight of the world pulling down at his lids.

Your arms leave him, and disgustingly warm cloth replaces your embrace. Already he misses your hold. In your arms, he’d felt safe, protected. On this bed, where both miracles and funerals are held, his fate is left to a coin flip.

He wonders as his comrades rush to him.

How long had it been since the last patient had lain here? Surely not longer than a few minutes.

There are hands upon him. They move with methods his own know so well, only this time, it is he who must be saved.

It is all he can do to keep his eyes open, and stare blankly at the tan sky. And for a moment, if he can allow himself to slip into the delusions of bloodloss once more, it almost looks like the blue of his memories.

What have they done to us?

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[toastytrusty]

ok i know I'm a few days late now BUT! full thoughts on hickey davechella.

his undiagnosed playlist is mostly instrumentals. could represent how disconnected he feels from reality, could represent him repressing his emotions/ignoring his issues/masking his true self/whatever. you get it

the non instrumentals on undiagnosed are really upsetting. was lowkey crying listening to Black Holes In The Sand. gives credence to the disconnected from reality theory

also Come Over. is the vibe self hatred, self pity, something else? lots of family issues certainly but we'll get to that later

I Would for You (on undiagnosed) is also on gibson's playlist. lol

The Sound of the End of Music (on undiagnosed) is a mash up of This is the End and The Sound of Music. This is the End was on tozer's playlist. lol

an undiagnosed hickey attatching himself to other people and mirroring them rather than developing his own sense of self? likely story. morphing how he thinks they are and what he thinks they like into something else entirely? even more likely

The Angel Gabriel on undiagnosed. just everything about that. why is he listening to christian hymns. i' m gonna freak out

the songs on undiagnosed that can only be described as Weird Noises. Shell Cameo, which is a single piano with? shower noises? in the background? Weather Three immediately after that, which is just. 12 minutes of doom sirens. he likes weird noises

Glory Only Once also very similar. anyone else hear the ominous whistling? 😂

so many orchestral pieces. what a cultured young lad

Vexations: Vexations: Thème being almost complete silence. kind of similar to the instrumentals possibly representing a disconnect from reality. there's just nothing

The Unanswered Question has a lot to unpack. i don't wanna ramble Too much about music history and the significance of this song but. it is a piece in conflict with itself, asking itself questions and leaving itself unsatisfied. it's about the inherent terrifying disorder of existence. it's about finding comfort in solitude and silence. you ever think

Don't Smoke in Bed. just. everything about that song. yeah

now on the treatment playlist. his music taste fucking rocks. we got ella fitzgerald we got father john misty we got jeff buckley we got the beatles we got peter gabriel we got bruce springsteen. he is cooking

first song on treatment, What Do You Think Will Happen Now? feels like affirmations and something he's trying to convince himself of rather than something he yet believes. prefacing the playlist with a new positive worldview, representing his journey with getting treatment? perhaps?

he immediately has more weird noises on treatment. Hocket for Two Voices: I.— is very short and i am sure there is lovely musical theory behind it that i am not smart enough to comprehend but it is kinda just weird noises to the untrained ear. A Boy Called Conjuror is also like this. a love of weird noises transcends therapy!

I'm 89 falls into a similar category. he just listens to people talk. he is clearly still quite lonely

there is still a good amount of instrumentals on treatment, but the vibe is Decidedly different. big Maybe It's All Going To Be Okay energy. Forever Held made me cry the first time i heard it

most of the songs are not instrumental though! very lyrical. something about him approaching and processing his issues.

the songs about love on treatment. All The Right Reasons is very deeply moving Made me cry a bit. Love Love Love actually made me take my headphones off stand up and walk across my room but maybe i'm just too mountain goats pilled

side note for that: the song called Love on undiagnosed is an instrumental. love was something abstract and impossible to define or put into words before, but now it feels a lot more real.

It's Only A Paper Moon was very moving. he just needed someone to believe in him

Because the Night. i laughed. even treated modern hickey yearns for cannibalism as a metaphor for love. i'm joking. mostly

we still got christian themes in treatment! they are, however, less overt. like it's become a part of something else and can peacefully exist alongside him, rather than being so blatant and forceful. the jeff buckleys, father john misty (kinda.), etc

SPEAKING OF THE JEFF BUCKLEYS AND THE FATHER JOHN MISTY. New Year's Prayer is a heavy hitter. it's hard to pin down the exact vibes but it's somewhere between coping and accepting. if you get it. and Bored in the USA is one of the most reminscent of show hickey's pysche, imo. it's steeped in fear and regret and a resigned kind of hope

in line with the religion stuff. the orchestral piece, Gnossienne: No. 3, references gnosticism, a religious doctrine that supposes divinity can only be found in rejecting the material world (because it is evil) and the god that created it (because it is evil), and instead finding salvation in some secret hidden being through a different kind of spirituality. lol

Nobody's Fault but My Own is kind of heartbreaking honestly. it shows how much he Is healing and Is processing and Is taking accountability and changing the way he views the world. one of the most impactful imo

Kansas City felt very reminscent of show hickey's relationship with london

Mercy Street. so much to unpack. the daddy issues. the remorse. the begging for forgiveness.

even more family issues because the last song on the treatment playlist is My Father's House. it felt kind of like an ultimate culmination of the thesis of treatment being him facing his issues and being forced to confront and process them. there's an element of being too late to right the wrongs of your past, but there's also the element of accepting that, and forgiving yourself

now. the radioheads on both albums. both second to last song on their respective playlist. How to Dissappear Completely on undiagnosed, How to Dissappear into Strings on treatment. the first one was kind of viscerally upsetting and felt very in line with how disconnected the entire undiagnosed playlist was, almost like he doesn't feel real. one of the few lyrical songs on a mostly instrumental playlist is about how much he's Not a part of the world around him. smth smth the only thing he can put into words is that he has no words. however, How to Dissappear into Strings is Not! lyrical! it is entirely instrumental, on an otherwise predominantly lyrical playlist. like he's not thinking about dissapearing anymore, or he can no longer put words to it. it's still there, some things can't be magically cured and made go away forever, but it's less, now.

aspects of both playlists being very similar, sharing sounds and themes and artists, felt very much like healing not being linear, and treatment not entirely changing who you are. it's clearly the same person behind each playlist, with different experiences shaping them differently, but the same nonetheless. it's really beautiful

and to close out, i just want to say how meaningful this whole experience with hickey's playlists was to me. it was genuinely so truly truly moving to witness a character that is clearly severely mentally ill be given the grace and opportunity to heal and overcome their struggles, rather than it being homogenized into the rest of them. so often characters like this are not treated with the same potential to overcome, and are condemned to just being Like That forever, as if their struggles are inseparable from their essence and something that defines them. they are wholly characterized by being quirky and insane and inconsolably evil. but that clearly was not how this was treated at all (and never how hickey has been treated by the show), and being able to witness hickey's journey across these two playlists was very cathartic to me, and i appreciate it. a lot.

[reverie-starlight]

new character added to the archive hehe. I should write for him more, he's such an interesting lil guy and I just adore him :(

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. hurt/comfort (?). fluff (?). kokonoi is going through it but at least he has you <3 this is pretty short, as are most character warm ups on this blog. happy birthday 2 him!!

3:17 AM

kokonoi stares at the ceiling with some unnamed emotion pooling in his stomach.

he’s completely still, not wanting to disrupt your sleep as he walks the halls of his mind trying to figure out what’s keeping him up. the feeling is familiar, he knows he’s felt it before, but the pathways he envisions are foggy and clouded with the sleep he keeps denying himself.

he releases a guttural noise, a mix between a groan and a sigh that’s louder than he intended, and lets guilt join the blend of emotions as you stir awake.

instead of soothing you back to sleep, he watches you sit up and check the time on your phone- which is selfish, he admits, but he’s a bit relieved that he can catch a break, even if it’s brief.

“baby?” your voice is gravelly, your speech slow and slurred. “are you okay?”

he swallows the lump in his throat runs a hand over his face. “y-yeah, I’m good.”

you rub your eyes and yawn. “why are you still up? are you feeling alright?”

there’s no annoyance or frustration in your tone. despite being abruptly woken up in the middle of the night, your first instinct isn’t to get upset with him, it’s simply to ask if he’s okay.

you’re sweet. he’s always known and admired this, but now it’s painfully clear to him that he doesn’t deserve-

oh. so that’s it.

he sighs. he shouldn’t burden you with this… you’re barely awake, but he can’t stop the word vomit from coming out now that he has listening ears. you make everything better.

he really is selfish.

you blink owlishly at him in the dark and stay quiet for a beat, then two, before you pull him in and rest your cheek against his curls.

“please don’t say that, hajime, none of it is true.”

he releases a shaky breath. “but-“

“baby,” you start, moving back and cupping his cheeks in your warm palms. “I love you,” you whisper. “and I think the absolute world of you.”

“you shouldn’t,” his voice breaks. “I’m- I’ve…” he struggles to fully admit to everything he (and probably countless others) considers a shortcoming of his.

he’s only good for money. he always stands behind others, never in front- does that make him a coward? one flaw after another floods his mental maze and he feels his lungs filling with water that he thought into existence.

you dive in and save him, pulling him back onto the sands of reality.

“I don’t care about what you’ve done or what you think of yourself at three in the morning, hajime. I love you anyway. more than enough for the both of us.”

you take a firm stance on that, not wavering one bit.

he stays quiet, letting your words register, easing his mind and his heart.

he’s not fully there yet, he knows there will probably be more nights like this to come, but at the very least right now your words are reassuring.

his silence lulls you back to sleep, and this time he watches you with no traces of guilt.

if his own mind wants to trick him into another episode of self loathing, at least he knows you’ll be there to coax an easy smile back onto his face and clear his heart of any lingering hatred.

sleep finally embraces him not long after that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@emmyrosee @softshuji (hope it’s okay I’m tagging you both!!)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

jason trying to flirt and reader freaking out gives me life. (dw jason i bet she wants to kiss you too (if she doesnt i might))

When you hesitated to name a book, afraid of being mocked maybe. Or afraid to be vulnerable, Jason took a shot in the dark. Looking up at the shelves. Looking for something well loved. Something you'd keep where you could reach it whenever you wanted comfort. Something you held close to your heart. That you'd read and reread. Worn but not destroyed. Venerated. It would almost feel like something sacred.

Every lonely kid had that book.

And when he locked eyes on it, he smiled. He got up off the floor and walked across the room, aware that he was being watched. He could feel a prickle of warning. A crackle of anxiety tugging at him. And he forced himself to breathe. Yeah, it was a kiddie book. A whole set of them. But, you liked books with happy endings.

"Convert me?" Jason hummed, "I never really liked fairy tales."

"No?"

"It's kinda hard to worry about chivalry when you live like I did," he said sitting back down- suppressing a pang with difficulty. He hadn't thought about his mom and dad in a long time. He kept them buried. It was easier. To not remember the way cancer had a smell. And the way that without insurance drugs just managed the pain. And his dad drank because it hurt. And because it hurt and he drank he couldn't hold a job. And because he couldn't hold a job he just kept doing crimes.

Books had to have a point. Fairy tales and delicate little "girl books" felt ephemeral and frivolous. Austen. Shelley. Poe. Homer. Christie. All that had a point.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's alright," he said exhaling roughly. It wasn't about him. And when he felt you try to pull back, trembling from the strain he shook his head and sank to the floor. "Don't worry about me, okay. Not right now anyway."

"It hurts-"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But if I read this for a while maybe I'll forget-"

"You can borrow-"

"I was going to read it to you," he mumbled, cheeks heating. He meant to just come in and start doing it. He'd hoped you'd just curl up with him and doze off.

"Oh."

"Is that okay?" he asked, not sure what to make of your reaction. Or your feelings. They're still a snarl- and mostly self-hatred.

"Yeah," you murmur. "Your voice is nice when you're not being mean."

[bones4thecats]

Sorry, maybe you can do, Tfp Predacons x Predacon femme reader, where the Predacons compete for the reader's love

TFP! Predacons Fight for Predacon! S/O

Characters: POLY! Predaking, Darksteel, and Skylynx Requester: 🐻Anon A/N: I'll call you 🐻Anon just because I like bears and they fight more than a dove or dragon do (I use character emojis first, okay?!) Anyways, hope you like this!! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Just fluff <3 ⚠️ P.S: The Predacon! Reader is based on a Chimera (specifically two pieces of art I found on Quora and InCryptid Wiki)

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Predaking + Darksteel + Skylynx ═══════════════╝

🐉🐻🕊️ This was getting very annoying for you. You, as a fellow Predacon, understood that having a more rough-and-tumble personality was normal for your kind. But the way that these three were handling it was beyond you

🐉🐻🕊️ You were in your alt-mode, one resembling a 'Chimera' as Raf once said, just watching as the trio 'play fought'. But you of all beings understood that with each hit they laid on another another, they meant everything personally

🐉 You were closest with Predaking. He was created a little while before you, and since you both arrived to serve Megatron together, your bond was by-far the strongest out of all other Cybertronians you had met and befriended

🐉 Unknowingly to you, the self-proclaimed King of Predacons had begun to see as more than an ally and fellow Predacon. He began to see you as a potential sparkmate, not because of his dream of your kind rising back up, but because he loved you

🐻 Darksteel on the other hand, was a pain in your aft. He would constantly mess with your different appendages. And I mean that

🐻 This guy would sneak up behind you whenever you were resting and just randomly mess with your horns, serpent-like tail, and your hooves. And whenever he wouldn't stop, you would snap your deadly tail at him, which made him laugh, say bye, and fly off

🕊️ Finally, with Skylynx. He did not like you at first and the same went with you, you kinda hated him. Not as much as you did Megatron for keeping you hostage and trying to kill Predaking years prior, but it still wasn't a small hatred

🕊️ But, as time passed, you both grew to enjoy one another's company. You would fly by and talk about how you were on your last nerve with Darksteel and how you were so close to beating him to scrap-metal, much to the lighter-Predacon's amusement

🐉🐻🕊️ To sum it up; Predaking liked you because you grew together and were really close, Darksteel liked you because you could be kind-yet-deadly when provoked (entertaining), and Skylynx liked you because you shared some things in common yet were different enough to be fun around

🐉🐻🕊️ But, as you grew close with the trio, they began to notice how they treated you. Predaking would be around you the most, huddling up next to you in your alt-modes to recharge, Darksteel would play-fight and fly around with you, and Skylynx would spend more time talking and acting like best-friends with you

🐉🐻🕊️ Unfortunately for you that day, the three mechs all asked you observe their strengths and deem one the winner. You knew what they really wanted, they wanted you to watch them fight for dominance and pick one to bond with. That all leads you to now

🐉🐻🕊️ As they all put their full-potential into this fight, you heard an engine rumble behind you. You stood and saw that it was the Autobot you were closest to, Bulkhead, driving towards your form

"Bulkhead. It's nice to see you after a while." You said, a playful smirk coming on your face.

"Yeah, same to you, Y/N." He replied.

🐉🐻🕊️ Your smirk turned into a genuine smile as you sat back down, this time in your bipedal-mode and patted the spot next to you for him to sit down and speak

🐉🐻🕊️ Bulkhead sat down and looked as the three Predacons continued their fight, they tails, wings, or claws swinging left and right as they either dodged or got hit. He chuckled as you groaned in annoyance

"Now you know how Ultra Magnus felt whenever Jackie did something against his orders." He joked.

"I suppose."

🐉🐻🕊️ As you and Bulkhead spoke about the finalization on territories for the Autobots and Predacons, the mechs had finally narrowed themselves down to their final attacks. Darksteel and Skylynx attempted to hit Predaking, making him transform and pin them down with his large clawed-feet

"Well, I guess you have a winner now." Bulkhead announced, making you look up and down at the three mechs' final stance.

"I'm not surprised. He won against them last time, why would this time be any different?"

"Fair. Anyways, I should get going. Ultra Magnus said that he would bring by the territory-mapping for you guys to finalize in about a cycle, is that okay?"

"Yep. See you, Bulkhead!"

"See ya', Y/N!"

🐉🐻🕊️ You looked back at the guys and sighed, noticing how they were now beginning to wrestle on the ground, screaming about how they would win the spark of yours no matter what

🐉🐻🕊️ Rolling your optics, you transformed and began flying down to where they were before lifting your back legs, kicking Skylynx away, taking your claws and scratching Darksteel while punching him back before using your serpent-tail to grab Predaking and take him down to the floor before transforming once more

"Quit your bickering, you sound like a bunch of sparklings." You demanded.

🐉🐻🕊️ The three each groaned in pain as your tail swayed and and you walked away to where the remains of Team Prime were working, leaving the guys to heal themselves

"They like me best."

"They do not!"

"Yeah, they like me best, Skylynx!"

"Shut up, Darksteel!"

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part IX (act II)

Word count: 15,401 Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts (not really, Jimmy’s just a listener and doesn’t know it), strong language, internalized racism, past abuse/experimentation, dehumanization, self-hatred, kissing, mature implications (fade to black), voluntary decapitation Summary: The Double Lifers have successfully thwarted the invasion by Hels Tek, but not unscathed. Now that Tango’s been outed as Bravo’s doppelgänger, the remaining threads are starting to unravel, and Jimmy suddenly finds himself fighting to save Tango from his own inner demons. Can their love survive the fallout?

A/N: This chapter had to get split into two parts bc Tumblr sucks, here's a link to the first half if u missed it. Hope y'all enjoy, please reblog/comment if you do!

Also please don’t think too hard abt the technical portal/redstone junk. I’m throwin a lotta random terms and conditions out there in the hopes of creating a feasible explanation for how portal travel works, and how Hels differs from other worlds in that regard. It’s possible there are contradictions or other things that I didn’t fully think through, but these details aren’t really important. Just try to suspend ur disbelief. - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part IX (act II) - no tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony

~*~

“Right then. Uh, thank you all for coming on short notice.”

Grian’s tentative welcome is met with a chorus of rather subdued greetings from the Double Lifers. Everyone is gathered in a loose semicircle around spawn, standing in their respective soulbound pairs and groups. Jimmy would’ve preferred to have this conversation sitting down, inside somewhere, but Tango had insisted on spawn.

Only now does Jimmy realize that the open nature of the forest clearing at spawn is less enclosed than a room filled with fourteen people would feel, and he understands.

Tango hadn’t been very talkative on the way over. But every time he said something, it was with that same forced ‘Everything’s fine!’ kind of attitude. It’s really starting to frustrate Jimmy, making him want to grab Tango by the shoulders and shout, ‘No, actually, everything’s not fine, and that’s okay!’

But he doesn’t think that’d be well received at the moment.

Tango, standing beside Jimmy, is still maintaining his fake nonchalance. To an untrained observer, he’d actually look quite casual. Simply standing with his hands in his pockets, listening intently to Grian with a plain, but not unpleasant, expression. The only indication Jimmy has that he’s at all uncomfortable is the complete lack of movement.

He doesn’t fidget, doesn’t pace, doesn’t shift his weight- all things that might otherwise be taken as signs of anxiety, but are usually normal for Tango. The stillness, though subtle, is concerning. It means he’s tense and on-guard. As if expecting an attack at any second. Which, to be fair, Jimmy doesn’t blame him for. 

But more concerning is the fact that Tango can so easily and convincingly pretend that everything’s fine. He must’ve had a lot of practice.

(Ten years, remember?)

(Of course he’s a good liar.)

(Surprise, surprise.)

Grian clears his throat. “So, as we all know… there was an attack yesterday by some strange fellas who came in through a hacked portal of some sort. I’ve locked the world down for the moment, but until we know all the who’s, why’s, and how’s, I’m afraid that’s only a temporary solution… since I’m sure you all don’t wanna be stuck here forever.” 

He says it matter-of-factly, not a hint of any frustration, annoyance, or other ill-feeling in his voice. But Jimmy sees Tango’s face twitch anyway. Unsurprisingly, the guilt is getting to him.

“But that’s why we’re here,” Grian continues, taking a more upbeat tone. “Tango has kindly agreed to explain a little better what’s goin’ on, so hopefully, we can get to the bottom of this and uh… come up with a plan for moving forward.” He gestures invitingly towards Tango. “Tango?”

(Here we go…)

Tango clears his throat. “Right, yeah, thanks.” He takes a small step forward, casting a quick glance around the clearing. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I spawned in a world called Hels, where every player is sort of an evil counterpart to an overworld player elsewhere in the universe. At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the Helsknight fiasco.”

Jimmy can actually see the sudden realization that settles over all the present Hermits- minus Pearl, who seems as out of the loop as the others.

Grian’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, that makes so much sense…”

“Oh, dudes,” Ren breathes, running a clawed hand through his hair. “Not gonna lie, I completely forgot about that…”

“Same here,” Impulse says, looking stunned. “I mean, it was over and done with so fast, and Wels didn’t seem worried, so I guess none of us really thought to look into it? Man…”

Scott puts a hand up. “Um, what’s tha’ Helsknight fiasco?” he asks, frowning.

“Oh, right.” Tango scratches the back of his head. “So, you guys know of Welsknight, right? One of our fellow hermits?” At the group’s hesitant nods, he continues, “On Hermitcraft’s seventh world, there was this player who randomly joined and attacked Wels. None of us ever saw him, but when Wels explained the situation later… he said Helsknight was some kinda evil clone, and that he came from a place called Hels.”

Murmurs of surprise and confusion ripple through the group. Jimmy longs to put a hand on Tango’s shoulder as a reassurance, but based on how tense he is, that’d probably set him off.

“Wait, really?” Pearl asks, her antennae curling in surprise. “What’re the chances of that?”

“I know,” Cleo agrees, “it was really strange, in hindsight…”

“So this Helsknight guy,” Joel says, knitting his brows together. “He’s what Bravo was talkin’ about, one of those Hels players? Like all the other people that came through the portal?”

“Yeah,” Martyn chimes in, “I- I noticed a lot of uh, ‘Hels’ in the names in chat. Or like, ones with ‘bad’ or ‘evil’ kinda vibes.”

“Yep.” Tango nods stiffly. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t know Helsknight or- or how he joined Hermitcraft, but it was obvious he was Wels’s counterpart. I mean, he said he was ‘all the darkest parts’ of Wels, right?” He folds his arms. “Well, I’m that for Bravo. A sort of uh- a personification of his badness, I guess.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bigb cuts in, holding his hands up. “So- so you’re sayin’ that we all have these… Hels versions of ourselves?”

“Evil doppelgängers, yeah,” Tango amends. “I mean, I don’t know why it’d only be for some players and not others, and Hels is plenty big enough for every player in the universe to have a counterpart. You go to any of the major cities around spawn, and it’ll definitely feel that way.”

“What’s this… Hels world like?” Pearl asks, her red eyes wide with a sort of morbid fascination.

Tango’s expression darkens. “It’s an ancient world, infinite and deadly. The overworld and nether are fused into one crazy, messed-up realm full of these weird hybrid kinda biomes, and- and you can’t access the end. The bedrock ceiling makes it so hostile mobs spawn basically everywhere, but you can’t find naturally spawning passive mobs for like, hundreds of thousands of blocks around spawn, ‘cause the early players murdered them all. And no portal travel in or out- at least, that’s what we thought.”

Jimmy’s starting to see why Bravo described Hels as ‘an inescapable prison of horrific violence and suffering.’ 

Grian raises his eyebrows. “No end?”

“No portals?” Bdubs echoes disbelievingly.

Etho, who’s been listening with rapt attention, tilts his head. “That Bravo guy, he mentioned something about my, uh… my doppelgänger?”

Tango shrugs. “He must’ve met them at some point in the last ten years, yeah. I- I dunno, I never did.” He pauses, creasing his brows as he glances around the circle again. “Actually, I don’t think I ever met any of your guys’s Hels. Or, if I did, I don’t remember.”

That makes Jimmy frown. “What do you mean?”

Tango gives Jimmy a sidelong look. “I uh, I wasn’t really that social for most of my time there, I spent my childhood being a general menace- most kids do, actually. There’s no infrastructure to look after kids, we- they’re basically on their own. So you can imagine it’s- it’s an interesting world to grow up in.” Idly, he kicks at a clump of grass. “Bunch’a little monsters runnin’ around unsupervised, causing chaos, trying not to get brutally killed by hostile mobs and players, it was great.”

Horror seizes Jimmy. “That’s awful.”

“That’s just how it was,” Tango says bluntly. “I mean, try setting something like that up without an admin, right? See how that goes.”

“Wait, Hels doesn’t have an admin?” Grian repeats.

“Nope. At least, not when I was there.” Tango shrugs. “They hadn’t for a long time before I even spawned, so- so the whole place was basically anarchy, every player for themself.”

Aghast, Scar shakes his head. “What in the world…”

“How long did you spend living like that?” Impulse asks softly, his eyes sad.

Tango’s avoiding everyone’s eyes now, staring off somewhere into the middle distance. “Oh, probably ‘til I was like… fifteen or sixteen? Somewhere in the teen stage? That’s when I met Atlas.” A bitter smile splits across his face. “He told me he was recruiting for his redstone company, Hels Tek, and- and of course he threw in lots of cheap flattery, blah blah blah, and in my young, naive stupidity, I fell hook, line, and sinker. Turns out all he wanted me for was a blaze farm.”

There’s a brief silence.

“What?” Jimmy asks, confused. Is that what Atlas had meant about a farm design? Did they just want to force Tango to make farms for them? He knows Tango’s a bit of an innovator in that regard, but that’s an awful lot of trouble to go through for something that could easily be done by someone else.

“He… wanted you to build a blaze farm?” Impulse asks slowly, brows knitting together.

Tango laughs; a sharp, dry exhale. “No, no. Not to build one. To be one.” He reaches a hand up to tap one of the blaze rods hovering around his head. “I uh, I dunno if you guys have noticed, but these things here aren’t just for show. They’re real, functional blaze rods, and they just so happen to be respawnable.”

Jimmy’s stomach drops.

Oh.

(There we go, now they’ve got it.)

(Makes sense, right?)

(Honestly, it’s so obvious…)

The clearing is deathly silent now. All Jimmy can hear is his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Everything is clicking into place, all the strange things he’s seen and heard suddenly making perfect, horrible sense.

They used Tango as a blaze farm. An actual sentient player, reduced to nothing more than a simple mob. A player with complex thoughts and feelings, with creative ideas and passions, with hopes and fears and dreams. They locked him up like an animal to use for profit- and even now, ten years later, he still can’t fully escape from it.

Jimmy has a sinking feeling he knows what Tango’s nightmares are about.

Tango keeps talking. “They didn’t start with that, of course.” There’s a bored sort of quality to his voice, like he’s merely commentating on the weather. “There was this uhh awkward phase where I thought I was helping with redstone experiments, when actually I was the test subject.”

It’s kind of surreal, actually. To be standing here and talking about this so casually. It’s like Jimmy’s having a nightmare he can’t wake up from.

“And once I caught on, well, they uh- they didn’t exactly have to play nice anymore,” Tango laughs. “That’s where I got these fabulous accessories.” He waves a hand, cuff jangling around his wrist.

Jimmy feels sick. They put the cuffs on Tango to lock him in a farm. To think he’s still had those on him, all this time-

“After that,” Tango continues briskly, “it still took, like, another year of testing for them to develop the most optimized farm.” He delivers the information almost disinterestedly, studying his claws. “It was a pretty smart design, nice and compact.”

Jimmy glances around the clearing. Amidst the shocked, horrified faces, he finds Impulse- who seems to be focused on taking slow, deep breaths, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

(Uh oh, no Impulse to the rescue…)

“Wither roses dealt constant damage,” Tango rattles off, “triggering my blaze rods to respawn as quickly as they could be skadoodled away by hoppers, and they had regen on an automatic clock to keep me alive- though there was a backup respawn anchor for any accidents.”

Wither roses. Of course. Jimmy can picture it, in his mind’s eye; Tango chained up among the ashen flowers. What must it have felt like, to be withering all the time? His health constantly wavering between the icy blackness and the regeneration, every minute of every day. How absolutely miserable.

Jimmy somehow finds his voice again. “How… how long did you spend like that?” he asks hoarsely, stepping next to Tango.

Tango won’t look at him- though he’s carefully watching out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, I dunno… four or five months, maybe?” 

Months. Jimmy’s heart aches. He can’t even begin to imagine what that existence was like. To spend all day trapped in a farm that’s constantly hurting him- and by wither effect, no less. Not to mention how dehumanizing the entire concept is on its own.

“How’d you get out?” Jimmy asks tentatively. “If- if you don’t mind.”

Tango snorts. “Yeah, so, one day, the charge on my anchor ran out when no one was around, so I was able to kill myself to get back to world spawn. And that’s when the portal to Hermitcraft appeared.”

Etho steps forward. “I thought Hels didn’t allow portals?” he asks, his voice as cool and unreadable as his partially-concealed expression.

Jimmy’s taken aback, his feathers puffing up unwittingly. He doesn’t understand how Etho can grill Tango about technical details in such an upsetting situation. In fact, he’d almost think that Etho doesn’t care at all- except the question makes Tango pause. In his expression, Jimmy can see his mind working, and realizes what Etho has done.

By circling back to a scientific topic, he’s provided Tango a distraction. Something less personal for his mind to focus on, and take everyone else’s focus off of him. Already, Jimmy can see that Tango’s less tense as he starts to explain.

“We didn’t have portals in Hels, but we knew the concept from data-mining.” Tango spreads his hands. “Locked comm commands, hidden recipes. But portals to Hermitcraft are made by the universe, right? So- so whatever is preventing Hels players from making portals, it- the universe can circumvent it. ‘Course, at the time, I didn’t know how it appeared or where it was gonna take me, but I went through. And apparently, somehow, a portal appeared in front of Bravo that took him to Hels at the same time. The universe must’ve tried to send Bravo to Hermitcraft, glitched ‘cause of Hels’s wonky portal technology, and swapped us by mistake.”

Etho hums noncommittally. “So it was an accident.”

(Oh, sure.)

(That’s what they think…)

(Yeah, he ‘accidentally’ didn’t tell anyone the truth for ten years.)

Jimmy angrily pushes the thoughts away. So long as Tango didn’t intend to strand Bravo in Hels, that’s all that matters to him.

Tango gives Etho a funny look. “I mean, that’s not the point? Bravo’s been trapped in Hels ever since, ‘cause of me. This whole invasion thing was my fault, they were tryin’ to get me back for the farm and help Bravo escape Hels, and... I dunno, get back to his life? Or, the life I stole from him ten years ago.” He shrugs. “So yeah. Secret’s out, sorry I’ve been lying to some of you for a decade, now, and- and sorry you all got dragged into my mess. I didn’t mean t- well, anyway, that’s- that’s what happened.”

“God, Tango,” Jimmy breathes, reaching a hand out, “I- I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Tango asks incredulously, jerking away from Jimmy. “Wh- for what? That’s just what Hels is like, okay, if it wasn’t the farm it’d have been some other terrible thing, so y’know, it’s- it’s whatever.” He lets out another harsh laugh, raking his claws through his hair. “If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry, I mean, I- I’ve been lyin’ for ten years and-”

“They put you in a farm?!”

Everyone jumps. Impulse’s voice is suddenly several octaves lower, quite a bit louder, and warped with distortion into something truly demonic. His pupils have eaten up the rest of his eyes, turning them solid black. The teeth bared in a scowl look bigger and sharper than they used to, and the hands at his sides have sprouted claws. His horns and tail have grown longer, too, and Jimmy can see what looks like dark, leathery wings sprouting up behind him. His entire body is outlined by a bright golden glow, like his skin has abruptly become as hot as lava, and the absolute fury in his expression burns even fiercer.

Ah. This must be ‘full demon’ mode.

Bdubs quickly jumps in front of Impulse, grabbing him by the shoulders to ground him. Jimmy instinctively steps in front of Tango, wings snapping out to shield him from view.

But the damage is already done. Jimmy hears footsteps, and by the time he looks over his shoulder, Tango is gone.

“Tango, wait!” Jimmy turns to follow him, but a hand suddenly grabs his arm.

Martyn is there. “Don’t chase him,” he says lowly, “he’ll only panic more.”

Jimmy wants to argue, but the severity in Martyn’s solitary eye sobers him. “Alright,” he relents, folding his wings. “I… guess I’ll give him a few minutes to calm down…”

“Right, then.” Martyn gives a short nod, putting his hands on his hips. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Tell me about it,” Jimmy mutters, gazing back over the clearing.

Impulse is starting to settle back down, Bdubs in front speaking to him in low tones while Etho and Joel each hang onto an arm. It looks like his extra demon-y features are reverting back to his usual state, though he still looks furious.

Grian is sitting against a tree, wings splayed out around him. He’s massaging his temples like he’s warding off a headache, his eyes squeezed shut, groaning, “How did I not see this coming?” while Scar, crouched beside him, rubs his back soothingly.

Ren is pacing back and forth across the clearing. “I should’a killed more of those guys,” he growls, tail lashing, ears pinned flat against his skull.

“Hey, you did all you could,” Bigb says comfortingly. “I was the one that got us killed. If I’d kept my shield up, he wouldn’t have gotten that shot on me.”

“I wish we’d realized that Atlas guy was in charge,” Martyn laments, crossing over to them. “If we’d stopped him from leaving, we could’a gotten a lot more information.”

“I wish we’d known Tango was dealing with all this,” Cleo says bitterly, her crossed arms resting on her knees, Scott leaned against their side. “I mean, honestly… ten years and we never knew? That’s- that’s- that’s rubbish. We’re rubbish friends.”

“Hey, hey now,” Jimmy says, lifting his voice to address the group, “this wasn’t anyone’s fault, okay? You guys have been great friends to Tango- otherwise, he wouldn’t have stuck around for so long, right? It’s- it’s just his way, to try and deal with things on his own without askin’ for help. You know that.”

Cleo exhales slowly. “Yeah, I know. Still sucks.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy glances over at Impulse, who seems to have recovered himself back to normal, sitting cross-legged next to Bdubs. “You alright, Impulse?”

Impulse gives a slight nod, expression guilty. “I’m sorry. I- I almost never lose control like that, I just got so angry… not at Tango!” he quickly clarifies. “Never at him. I- I just… thinking about what they did to him, everything he went through…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Bdubs murmurs, squeezing Impulse’s hand. “That’s- it’s freaking crazy, right? With th- hyaugh, evil Hels world, puttin’ people in uh, in farms… sheesh.”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Jimmy assures him. “I know you didn’t mean anythin’ by it. I’m sure Tango does, too, he was just so on-guard the whole time… he just got spooked, that’s all.”

“Jimmy,” Pearl says urgently, fluttering over to him while tailed by her small pack of wolves, “d’you know- uh, is- is everythin’ Tango said true?” she asks, concerned.

Jimmy swallows. “It’s true. I mean, I- I didn’t know about the farm specifically, but based on what I overheard Atlas say- it makes sense.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And gosh, I didn’t know how awful Hels was, but the way Bravo talked about it…”

“But, um…” Bdubs pipes up hesitantly. “Just- just ‘cause Tango is Bravo’s… uh, Hels… doppelgänger, whatever… doesn’t mean he’s evil, right?”

“I know!” Jimmy cries, throwing his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell him! He doesn’t believe it. He thinks he’s a monster for what he did, killin’ those guys and burnin’ down the ranch.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Martyn scoffs. He’s coaxed a still-seething Ren to lay down now, absentmindedly stroking Ren’s ears as his head rests in Martyn’s lap while Bigb starts to braid his hair. “It was self-defense, yeah? A bunch of strangers invaded your home, and he defended it. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

Jimmy has a feeling it’s more to do with how Tango killed them and how the fire got started, plus the fact that Jimmy got hurt in the process. But Tango didn’t share those particular details, so Jimmy’s not about to now. Besides, in his opinion, that doesn’t change anything.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says ruefully. “But he still blames himself for what happened. For all of it.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Cleo deadpans. Then she pauses. “Or- sorry, his feelings aren’t stupid, but I- I hope he knows that none of us feel that way.”

There are exclamations of agreement and similar sentiments from the rest of the group, which helps ease some of the tightness in Jimmy’s chest. He knows his friends, and knows they’re all good people who wouldn’t judge Tango like that, but it’s been hard not to let Bravo’s words get to him.

“I’ll tell him,” Jimmy promises them. “I’ll try to make him understand, he just- I think he’s always been afraid this day would come, that he’s just been tickin’ down borrowed time.”

“What d’you mean?” Grian asks, rising to his feet. “It’s not like he knew they were coming, right?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s more like… he’s always had that possibility hanging over him.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Impulse says quietly. “The first time he saw a communicator portal open, you would’ve thought he was being sent to his death. It… makes sense, looking back now.” He puts his head in his hands, sighing. “Man, there were so many signs…”

Grian walks over, pulling his communicator out. “So hang on, the world itself is called Hels, yeah?”

“Yeah, why?” Jimmy asks.

Grian doesn’t respond, silently scanning his comm with his brows knit in concentration. And then something very strange happens. For a moment, it almost seems as if Grian’s eyes flash purple, and Jimmy hears his voice in his head.

(There it is. Hm, firewalled. Gonna be tricky.)

Then Grian pushes his glasses back up, and it passes.

“Right,” he says briskly, putting his comm away. “I can’t find the world, so the portal thing checks out. But since Tango’s cut this meeting a bit short, do you have any other information? Anything the Hels guys might’ve said or done that we should know about?”

Jimmy blinks. Grian’s just looking at him expectantly, giving no indication that there’s anything out of sorts. Jeeze, he’s used to having random thoughts, but the stress of everything must really be getting to him if he’s imagining his friend’s voices, now.

“Um, actually,” Jimmy says, “the collar they put on Tango… he said it’s using some sort of… modified wither rose to dampen his fire? It’s uh, also dampening our soulbond.” He clears his throat, glancing away. “As a- as a fun little side effect.”

“Have you tried removing it yet?” Etho asks, stepping around Impulse with his hands in his pockets.

“I did, earlier,” Impulse chimes in from the ground. “Just with my hands, but uh, he acted like it was hurting him.”

Jimmy nods. “Yeah, Atlas locked it on him with a key, and I’m pretty sure he still had it when he left. So I think that might be the way to get it off.”

“Well,” Joel cuts in, straightening up from where he’d been leaning over Impulse’s shoulder, “surely not the only way, right? I mean, you could always…” He makes a noncommittal noise, and draws a finger across his neck.

Jimmy bristles, wings flaring out. “What, decapitate my soulmate?!”

Joel holds up his hands. “Hey, hey, we don’t know if that thing’ll respawn on him!”

“His cuffs do!” Jimmy points out.

“Yeah, but isn’t it worth a shot?” Joel counters.

“I… I guess,” Jimmy relents, letting his feathers smooth back down. “But I’d rather look into a few other options before jumpin’ straight to decapitation, if you don’t mind. Tango’s been through enough as it is.”

Joel backs off. “Alright, fair enough.” 

“Okay…” Grian turns to address the rest of the group. “Well, um… this has been an interesting revelation, to say the least. I think we’re gonna have to do a bit more research to figure out how they got here before we just… open the world back up. So that means we’ll all be stuck here a bit longer, is that- is that okay with everyone?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Bdubs says vehemently.

“Yeah,” Impulse agrees, “whatever it takes.”

Further murmurs of assent ring out from among the group. Everywhere Jimmy looks, he sees faces full of sympathy and understanding, not a single trace of resentment or annoyance to be found. God, he loves his friends.

“Thanks, guys, I appreciate it,” he says gratefully. “I’m gonna go check on Tango, but we’ll keep you updated if anythin’ changes.”

“Right, okay then.” Grian claps his hands together. “Uh- I guess that’s all for now?”

Nodding, Jimmy turns and takes to the sky, leaving spawn behind him.

His mind is still reeling from all the heavy revelations, his stomach twisted up into knots, but he’s at least comforted by knowing that his friends are behind them. Seems that the fears Bravo tried to instill were completely unfounded, nothing more than vicious, desperate attempts to sow division between Tango and the others. Jimmy really shouldn’t have doubted them.

(That went… surprisingly well.)

(Give it time.)

‘Oh, shove off,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

He finds Tango back at the spare room in Impulse and Bdubs’s house.

Thank goodness for that. He hadn’t exactly been sure if Tango would consider this a safe place to go. But with the ranch destroyed and the world on lockdown, it’s not like he has a lot of options.

Tango’s sitting on the bed with his back to Jimmy. At a glance, he seems relaxed, but his legs are curled under him in a way that’d allow him to spring up in an instant. And the way his pointed ears swivel back toward Jimmy tells him Tango is quite alert.

(So deceiving…)

“Hey, Tango,” Jimmy says softly. “You alright?”

“Oh, hey.” Tango doesn’t turn around just yet, shrugging a shoulder. “Sure, yeah.”

Jimmy lingers by the bed for a moment, uncertain. “Um, Impulse didn’t mean to lose his temper like that,” he offers. “He wasn’t mad at you, he was mad at the situation, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just, in the moment- I- I- thought…” Tango sighs. “Anyway. So- so I guess I should head out, huh?”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “What? What’re you sayin’?”

“It’s over, right?” Tango asks, his voice tight, shoulders hunched by his ears. “They don’t want me around, and I don’t blame ‘em. I mean, once Grian opens the world again, it’s only a matter of time before another portal from Hels opens up. And- and who’d want to go through all that again, right? So don’t worry, I get it, it was my fault, so-”

“No, Tango, I promise- none of them blame you, alright?” Jimmy sits down on the bed- not too close. “None of them believe what Bravo was sayin’ about you. None of them think you’re some… some evil monster that deserves to be locked up in Hels.”

Tango finally turns around. His body is coiled with all the tension of a drawn arrow. “That’s ‘cause they didn’t see me- what I did- back at the ranch,” he says sharply. “They don’t know the whole story.”

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. He knew Tango would hold that against himself. “Well, I do, and I-”

“No, you don’t.”

Jimmy blinks. “Wh- oh, you mean the Helsknight thing?” he asks, furrowing his brows. “Look, honestly, based on what you told Bravo, I don’t blame you for doing that. You were just scared you’d get sent back, that doesn’t make you evil. I know you-”

“No, you don’t,” Tango says again, more intently. “You don’t know everything about me, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “Wha’d’you mean?”

Tango smiles without humor, a hard look in his eye. “You wanna know why I like making those- those crazy mob farms? Why I try to kill them in creative, fun ways?” He tilts his head. “Because I like it. I like to make their deaths entertaining. I’ll even sacrifice efficiency for it, I’ll go out of my way to do it. And I- it doesn’t stop there, I’ll kill passive mobs for no reason. Cats, frogs, things that don’t even have drops, for absolutely no reason. That’s not normal.”

Despite himself, Jimmy feels a chill run down his spine. “That’s not… those are just mobs, it’s- it’s not evil…”

(Are you sure about that?)

Tango exhales sharply- a short, bitter laugh. “Okay. You know why practically all my mini games end in death? Huh? You wanna guess?”

Distress shoots through Jimmy. “Tango-”

“I like to watch players die, too,” Tango says. “And I like it to be entertaining. I enjoy it, that’s- that’s just plain sadistic.” He rakes his claws through his hair. “That’s what I am, I’m a- a sadistic monster, okay, I always have been.”

“Stop it, don’t say that!” Jimmy protests, his heart twisting. “You’re not- people actually sign up for those games, you know. And it’s not like death is permanent, it doesn’t matter-”

“So?” Tango interrupts harshly. He jumps off the bed and starts pacing. “What- does that make any difference? Doesn’t matter if people enjoy them, okay, my- my reason for making them is wrong. Designing games is fun, sure, but I- that’s never what it’s been about. I like to make players struggle, and suffer, and die in the end. I like to watch them experience pain and fear in a trap of my own creation. I like the feeling of control it gives me. No matter how you look at it, that’s- I- I’m messed up.”

Jimmy can’t take this anymore. He rises to his feet. “Tango, stop, that’s enough,” he says, his voice stern. “I know I haven’t known you very long, but-”

“Yeah,” Tango snaps, rounding on Jimmy, “you haven’t! That’s the whole problem! I’ve kept a huge chunk of my life secret from you, my own soulmate. I’ve kept it from the Hermits, too- my friends of nearly a decade. I’ve deceived and lied to everyone I ever cared about. I’ve pretended to be this- this benevolent game maker who just wants everyone to have a good time, I’ve kept so much of who I really am hidden ‘cause I knew that if you guys ever saw the real me, you’d hate me.”

Jimmy’s mind is reeling. Tango’s clever eye for game design is something Jimmy’s always loved about him, the way he could create fun challenges even amidst the throes of a death game. After all, the first time they really interacted was when Jimmy died to his ‘Dare to Flare’ challenge back on the Third Life world. And that had been a laughably simple game compared to some of the things he’s done on Hermitcraft.

Even though it ended up costing Jimmy a life, the rush of adrenaline had been thrilling. And even though in hindsight, he knew it was a deliberate ploy by Tango to thin out his competitor’s lives, Jimmy’s never resented him for it.

So to suddenly realize there might’ve been more to it… that Tango might’ve actually enjoyed watching him burn to death- beyond the simple satisfaction of having outsmarted his competition, of course- is… unsettling, to say the least.

(What a start to a relationship!)

(The red flags have been there from day one.)

(A sadist and a liar, lucky you.)

But nevertheless, Jimmy holds his ground. “I don’t hate you.”

Tango tenses. “You should.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jimmy insists. “I love you, Tango.”

“No, you don’t!” Tango snarls, and the hurt in his voice is raw and ragged and bleeding. His eyes are burning with rage, and Jimmy’s almost certain that if it weren’t for the collar, he’d be on fire right now. “Alright? Just shut up! You love this- this version of me that I’ve presented, okay, this lie I’ve been living. You love Tango the friendly redstoner, who makes ridiculous high-pitched noises when he’s flustered and who’s funny when he’s mad and who can’t fight his way out of a one-block hole. You don’t love the sadistic blaze hybrid that sets things on fire and- and rips people’s throats out with his fucking teeth, don’t be stupid!”

The silence that follows is deafening.

(And there it is!)

(Finally showing his true colors.)

(He did try to tell you…)

For a moment, Jimmy is too stunned to speak. Tango’s never yelled at him before, not seriously, and the sting of his words is almost a physical thing.

Tango seems just as shocked at his outburst as Jimmy is, his face paling as his anger quickly extinguishes. The next words out of Tango’s mouth are almost guaranteed to be an apology, but Jimmy isn’t letting him off that easily.

“Now hang on just a second,” Jimmy says lowly. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel about you. I’m a grown player. I’m not some poor, innocent idiot that you’ve manipulated into loving you, alright? And it hurts that you’d think so little of me, that I’d stand here and just lie about my feelings to you.”

(Ooh, someone finally grew a backbone-)

Jimmy silences the thought, violently forcing it out of his mind. He’s got no patience for that sort of thing right now.

“I’m sorry,” Tango whispers, “I didn’t-”

“And what’s more,” Jimmy continues, gaining steam, “do you really think I’m the type of person to judge someone so harshly for things outta their control? You honestly think I’m some- some shallow, heartless jerk who’d turn on you, just like that? Or- for that matter, you think the Hermits would? After ten years of friendship, you have that little faith in them?”

Tango’s eyes widen. “No, no it’s- it’s not like that,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care that you’re from Hels,” Jimmy presses, taking a step forward. “I don’t care what you did in the past, or that you kept it from me. I don’t care if some random guy thinks you’re just the manifestation of all his evil- frankly, I think that says more about him than it does about you.” He comes to a stop in front of Tango. “I love you. The teeth, the claws, the death fascination or- or whatever you wanna call it- I love all of it. All of you. And I wish more than anythin’ they hadn’t got that damn collar on you, so you could feel that love through our soulbond. But you’ve felt it before, right? Before I knew? Well um, it hasn’t changed, I promise you that.”

Tango stares back up at him. Now that the anger’s gone, he just looks scared. “You don’t-” His voice breaks. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I do,” Jimmy answers, unwavering. As difficult as this conversation has been, this part’s easy. “I promise, cross my heart.”

Tango shudders, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Please,” he whispers, “don’t… I can’t- if I let myself think that but you don’t mean it, I- I can’t handle that. Please. Just tell me now, okay, get it over with…”

Understanding settles over Jimmy. Creasing his brows, he takes a slow, deliberate step forward. “I mean it,” he says, lifting a hand to cup Tango’s cheek.

Tango trembles, but he doesn’t move away. He swallows, licks his lips. “Say it again?” he asks, almost a plea, his eyes darting to take in every inch of Jimmy’s face- like he’s unsure whether he can truly believe what he’s seeing, almost searching for any hint, any trace of doubt in Jimmy’s expression.

There isn’t any. Jimmy leans in. “I love you.”

Something glimmers in Tango’s eyes; a warm light Jimmy hasn’t seen since before the ranch burned. 

Something like hope.

Love rises inside Jimmy like a wave- love and the sorrow of shared grief, the fierce determination to withstand it, and the agony of all the past suffering he can’t take away. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating, this sudden rush of emotion. A whirling maelstrom that makes his head spin. But his love burns brightly through it all, a sole lantern against the storm.

Maybe he can’t make Tango believe he’s worthy of love. But he can give it anyway.

Jimmy moves slowly, tilting his face down towards Tango���s. He keeps his eyes open until the very last second, giving Tango plenty of time to move away or say something to stop him, to give any sign at all that he isn’t feeling the same.

There isn’t any. Their lips meet gently, like a familiar greeting. Like the way sunlight falls through the window every morning.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Suddenly Tango’s kissing him back, fervently, pushing against him. Jimmy’s legs hit the bed and buckle, sending him backwards, Tango falling on top of him. His hands cling to Jimmy’s shirt, twisting in the fabric, and his tears wet Jimmy’s face, salt on his tongue. Above the pounding of his heart in his ears, he can just make out the words Tango’s murmuring between kisses, breathless and desperate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Jimmy pulls him impossibly closer, whispering, “I never doubted.”

They don’t need words after that.

~*~

“Jeeze, they weren’t kidding,” Tango mutters, taking in the ranch with wide eyes.

The ranch looks even worse than Jimmy had been imagining. Nearly the entire first floor is gone, just a wide-open plot and their lonely front door sitting ajar. Aside from the odd block here and there, it’s just empty. A couple trapdoors from the furniture in the living room. The smooth stone slabs that made up their kitchen countertops. An occasional unbroken glass pane floating where there used to be windows.

It’s not a home anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination.

Up the intact cobblestone staircase, the second floor has only fared slightly better. Some of the walls are still standing, charred and moth-eaten as they are. He thinks most of the bathroom’s interior was spared, as it was primarily made of different stone materials. Polished andesite and the like. The chests in their storage room made it, of course, even though the room itself didn’t. And their bedroom seems to have gotten the worst of it. From down here, he thinks it might just be the bed itself that’s left.

The roof is gone, leaving their cobblestone chimney awkwardly sticking up from the ground to nowhere. The path up to the house and the surrounding fields have been torn up to make a ditch. Necessary as it was, it’s quite the eyesore. And to top it all off, one of the custom trees that Scar helped build has been hastily chopped down, due to its proximity to the nearby forest. There’s just a couple of logs and solitary leaves left floating in the air.

It hurts. Everywhere Jimmy looks, there’s another source of heartache. Another precious memory that’s been turned to ash. It’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

But he’s also aware of Tango standing beside him. He knows how much Tango is already beating himself up for the fire, and the last thing he wants to do is add to that guilt.

Jimmy turns to give Tango a rueful grin. “Talk about your fixer-uppers, ey?”

Tango exhales slowly. “Man, it’s so…” He glances at Jimmy, expression pinched. “I’m sorry, you worked so hard-”

“It’s fine,” Jimmy says, shrugging. “It’s just a building.”

Tango hesitates. “It’s… alright to be upset. This was our home, and I- I got all ‘rahhhrr angry-burny rage mode’ on it and-”

“Not your fault,” Jimmy says, voice gentle but firm. He puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s the Hels fellas for attackin’ us in the first place.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise, scuffing the upturned dirt with his boot. “Sure.”

It’s clear he’s not convinced, but Jimmy leaves it there for now. Their conversation from yesterday is going to take some time to fully sink in. He crosses over to a haphazardly-placed double chest near the front of the ranch and crouches beside it, lifting the lid with a creak.

“Martyn said everything they were able to save is in this chest here, let’s see…” He rummages through the chest’s inventory. A lot of it is random junk; miscellaneous blocks, half-stacks of wheat, dropped weapons and armor from the fight. But there are a few good finds, like some of the clothes from their closet, a couple of flower pots, one of his framed embroidery pieces...

“Oh, hey, look at this!” Jimmy calls excitedly. “My gloves!”

He pulls the gloves out, looking up from the chest to see Tango standing over him. His eyes widen when he sees them- happily surprised at first, and then the familiar dawning of guilt and regret.

“You uh… maybe I should take those back, for now,” Tango says quietly, his ears lowered. “Or- or maybe just forever, yeah.”

“Ey, stop it, no take-backs,” Jimmy chastises him, slipping the gloves on. “Gloves couldn’t have prevented that fire, anyways. And I like wearin’ ‘em, because that way it’s sorta like I’m holdin’ your hand all the time.”

A grin tugs at Tango’s mouth. “Aw, that’s real cheesy, honey,” he teases, even as a faint blush colors his cheeks.

“Yeah, but I mean it,” Jimmy says loftily. “I’m keepin’ them.”

Tango holds his hands up, chuckling. “Alright, alright…” His gaze travels back towards the ranch, up towards the storage room with its rows of chests. “Guess we should still have plenty of materials to rebuild, huh?”

“Should do, yeah,” Jimmy says, straightening up. Having the gloves back is an immediate comfort, despite the fact he’d only gone two days without them. He foldings his arms, gaze sweeping critically over the remains of the ranch. “I guess for now, we’ll just focus on the structure? Y’know, get the place liveable again and worry ‘bout the decor and landscapin’ later…”

“Oh, that’s what you think!”

The loud voice makes them both jump. Jimmy whirls around to see Bdubs- of course, because there’s absolutely no mistaking that voice.

“Bdubs!” Jimmy laughs, clutching his heart. “What- what’re you doin’ here?”

Bdubs puts his hands on his hips. “I- I can’t believe what I’m- ‘no interior decor’, yeah right! You’re not gonna get outta that very- so easy! I tell you!”

Tango snickers. Luckily Bdubs’s sudden appearance hasn’t seemed to cause more than a brief startle. “Oh, yeah? You gonna help out, then, shorty?” 

“Hey!” Bdubs barks incredulously- though it’s clear from his expression he’s not really upset. “I’m tryin’ t- augh, n’you- you stu- yes. Yes, yes, I’m here to help, of course. For goodness sakes. I- how kind, are I! Sweet, kind Bdubs…”

“And handsome, too,” Jimmy adds cheekily.

That makes Bdubs beam, puffing his chest out. “Yeahhh, c’mon baby!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Tango groans.

“Oh, stop it!” Bdubs huffs. “Anyway, Impulse would’ve come, of course, but he and Etho- the redstone guys, you know, uh, they’re havin’ a- a- little chat, little brainy-thing… brainstormin’ ‘bout the portal stuff with Grian. But never thy fear! I saw you guys head out and, in my eternal wiseness, have already called in the forcements!”

Jimmy exchanges an amused look with Tango. “Well, any help is appreciated,” he amends.

“Sure about that, Timmy?” calls Joel’s voice, as the man himself appears over the hill.

And he’s not alone. Cleo’s taller figure looms over him, Scott and Pearl walking on either side of her as a small pack of wolves weave between their legs. The trio is followed by Martyn, Bigb, and Ren- the latter seeming to have recovered his friendly disposition and wagging tail. Finally, Scar emerges from behind a tree to round out the group, calling out a cheerful, “Hello there!”

Joel comes to a stop next to Bdubs and claps him on the shoulder. “We figured you two could use the help, what with you not bein’ builders and all.” Cheeky man.

Jimmy snorts. “Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically. But slights at their building skills aside, he’s actually quite touched.

Tango blinks. “You guys… all came to help out?” he asks, sounding amazed. 

“Of course!” Bdubs declares. “We ha- we help!”

Cleo shrugs, giving a hapless grin. “You know, I- I- I really don’t know… why Bdubs invited me? I’m not that great a builder. But I can supervise, I guess? And- and heckle. Always heckle.”

“And reach tha’ tall bits,” Scott offers, lightly elbowing her hip.

“And reach the tall bits,” Cleo laughs. “Right. Yes.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Martyn chimes in, slinging an arm around Bigb’s shoulders, “since that portal stuff is way over my head.”

Bdubs pulls a face. “Uh…” He speaks to Jimmy and Tango behind his hand, despite making no effort to lower his voice at all- for comedic effect. “Normally, I would’ve offered my perfect redstone prowess to uh, to help the other guys out with their little portal thing, you know, but eugh- I knew someone would have ta’ keep all these jokers in line.”

“Ah, of course,” Tango replies sagely.

“Well?” Bdubs turns expectantly to the others, throwing his arms up. “Get movin’ then! Sheesh! Stand around, waitin’ for- for no raisin…”

“Yes, my liege,” Cleo drawls, rolling their eyes.

Ren claps his big paws together. “Yeah, we’re burnin’ daylight, my dudes!”

Pearl’s fuzzy wings unfurl from beneath her red cloak. “Let’s see what we’re workin’ with!” she says excitedly, fluttering up to the storage room.

Just like that, the other Double Lifers descend on the husk of the ranch. Placing down temporary chests and crafting benches, sorting through the remaining resources, filling in the ditch with dirt. Multiple conversations start up immediately as everyone sets to a task, and the atmosphere is comfortable- even if a bit strange.

Jimmy can’t recall a time when this many of them have worked on a project together. Not on Third Life, not on Last Life, not here. Something like this just wouldn’t be possible during a death game. Large gatherings between different groups are always fraught with tension and uncertainty, by the fear of a trap or a backstab or a fight breaking out.

But it’s nice. Pearl is hovering above the second floor, working with Cleo to build the walls back up while Scott prepares some stairs and slabs for detailing. Scar and Bdubs are already bickering about how to do the landscaping while Joel grumbles at them, waist-deep in the ditch with Bigb and Martyn placing dirt. Ren’s started tearing down the damaged trees, clearing room for replanting, and Pearl’s wolves mill about, filling the air with curious sniffs and yips.

Tango’s watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, and it suddenly occurs to Jimmy that this is the most people Tango’s been around since the difficult conversation at spawn. Impulse was checking on them throughout the rest of the day, of course, and a few of the other players stopped by now and again, but not in big groups or anything.

Jimmy steps closer to Tango. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

Tango looks at him in surprise. A smile spreads across his face, and he takes Jimmy’s hand. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, it is.”

Jimmy smiles back. “Then let’s get in there.”

~*~

Jimmy lets out a low whistle. “Dang, this looks even better than before!” he says, craning his head to look around the room.

After a full day of building and the gradual dispersal of the other Double Lifers, Jimmy and Tango are now seeing their new bedroom for the first time. They were around for the bulk of the structure building, but once it came time for the interior, Bdubs and Scar had insisted it be a surprise. Everything about it is perfect, from the custom furniture to the quilted wool rug to the fancy frame Scar built around their double-wide bed.

Tango clears his throat. “Maybe, uh- maybe we can just…” He kicks one of the beds with the toe of his boot. “... scooch this over a little…”

“Nope,” Jimmy declares, sweeping Tango off the floor and onto the bed. “Nice try, mate, but you’re stayin’ right here next to me.”

“Okay, okay, fine! I ju- don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Tango huffs, but he’s grinning as he says it.

~*~

“Alright, fellas,” Grian says, clapping his hands together, “here’s what we’ve got so far…”

Jimmy leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Tango is a little tense beside him- probably just nerves. But it could be worse. They’re gathered in the living room of Impulse and Bdubs’s house; Grian perched on the arm of the sectional across from Jimmy and Tango, Impulse and Etho sitting adjacent to them. The familiar setting and fairly limited company seems to have helped put Tango more at ease for what might end up being a tricky conversation.

“We’re... pretty sure we know how the Hels peeps got here,” Grian continues, “but there are a few things we need to clarify, first.” He glances at Etho, inclining his head. “Etho, you wanna explain?”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Etho stands up. “Tango, may I see your comm, please? I uh, just need to look at it for a minute.”

Tango blinks. Anxiety flashes across his face for just a brief second before disappearing. “Oh. Uh, sure?” He pulls the item from his inventory, holding it out.

Etho takes the communicator. “So,” he begins, sitting back down, “you said that in Hels, players can’t make portals with their communicators, right?”

Tango gives a short nod. “That’s right. That comm isn’t the one I spawned with, they took that from me at Hels Tek. X made me a new one, after I got to Hermitcraft.” He gives a dry laugh. “I told him- I told him I lost it. Which, I mean, that’s- it’s technically not a lie, just... not the whole truth.”

Jimmy gives him a sympathetic look. He might no longer be worried that the others will reject him, but this still can’t be easy to talk about.

Etho studies the communicator, his mismatched eyes narrowed in concentration. “So after you got a new comm, you were able to use it to make portals?”

“Yeah,” Tango says, “it uh, it’s taken me to each Hermitcraft world and everything in between, no problem. Hubs, solo worlds, creative- you name it.”

Etho hums. “Can you use your comm to travel to Hels?”

“No.” Tango glances away. “I’ve looked for it, a few times. Never shows up.”

That brings a couple more questions to mind, but Jimmy files them away for later.

“Interesting.” Etho seems to be delving deep into the communicator’s hardware, typing rapidly. “So uh, the portal issue isn’t centered on players that spawn in Hels, just their communicators. And since overworld communicators can’t find Hels, there must be something about the world itself preventing it.”

Tango knits his brows together. “I suppose…?”

It’s at this point that Grian leans forward. “Have either of you heard about firewalls?” he asks.

Tango shakes his head, but Jimmy’s heart jolts. He has heard that word before; just the other day, when he thought he heard Grian’s voice in his head. But that’s not exactly something Jimmy wants to bring up right now. Or ever, maybe. His weird, random, intrusive thoughts don’t need to be anyone else’s problem.

“Um…” Jimmy pretends to think about it for a moment. “I think I’ve heard the term somewhere before, but I- I dunno what that actually means.”

“Right.” Grian spreads his hands. “So firewalls are a sort of added security measure that admins can use when making a new world. It’s like, an impenetrable barrier ‘round the world that makes it basically impossible for anyone unauthorized to join via portal.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, eyes widening. “What- why haven’t I heard about this? Do all worlds have these?”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “Well, firewalls are kinda outdated. Developments in server security and comm travel have basically rendered them obsolete. I mean, when’s the last time you heard of a private world being raided, besides ours?” He shrugs. “Plus, it’s a real tedious process to set one up, so they aren’t used often. Mostly for multiplayer worlds that are invite-only, if an admin is particularly concerned about hackers.”

Jimmy holds out a hand. “So wait, hang on, this- what’s this got to do with our situation?”

Impulse catches his eye. “If you try to join a firewalled world without permission, it doesn’t show up on your comm.”

“Oh,” Tango says, realization dawning in his expression. “You think Hels has a firewall?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of,” Grian says, nodding. “However, it’s a bit odd, ‘cause firewalls are usually just one-way… meaning that they keep players out, but they don’t stop players from leaving. So if that’s what’s goin’ on with Hels, it’s a firewall unlike any I’ve ever heard of- where it’s meant to keep players in, too. I’m not exactly sure if that’s why comms made in Hels can’t make portals, or if that’s due to something else entirely, but uh, that’s my best guess.”

Tango runs a hand through his hair. “That’s… I mean, this is the first I’ve heard of firewalls, but that doesn’t sound impossible…”

“So,” Jimmy speaks up hesitantly, “so how did the Hels Tek guys open a portal here?”

“How, indeed?” Etho repeats, finally looking up from Tango’s communicator. “Well, we know the portal was red, not purple. That’s like a comm portal, the way their light syncs up with the world they lead to. But uh, you know, the players coming through had items and armor on them, and they didn’t show up at world spawn. Their spawns didn’t reset, either, they uh- they kept spawning back on the other side. That makes me think this was actually a hacked nether portal, not a comm portal.”

Tango frowns. “Hang on, we- we didn’t have nether portals in Hels, either. I mean, how- there was no point, the nether and the overworld were combined into one realm.”

“Right.” Etho’s got that look in his eye- the glint of an idea about to take off. Jimmy’s seen it in Tango countless times. “You know how nether portals work?”

Tango coughs into his fist. “Oh, right, of course I know all the uh, super technical skadoodle bits, but- but maybe you should go over it.” He jerks his head towards Jimmy and Grian. “You know, for these uh, non-redstone people here.”

“Please do,” Jimmy chuckles.

Etho’s eyes crinkle upwards, like he’s smiling behind his mask. “Basically, they grab the coordinates they’re made on and translate it to nether coords, and vice versa. From what you’ve told me about Hels, being a fusion of the nether and overworld realms, a nether portal couldn’t work ‘cause it’d be like… giving it coords to a place it already is? It’d just crash and never ignite. But if you gave a nether portal frame coordinates to a different place… like, say, a different world…”

Even with Jimmy’s scarce knowledge of portals, it’s easy enough to catch Etho’s meaning.

“That’s crazy,” Tango protests. “How’d they- how could they possibly have gotten coordinates to Double Life?”

“I don’t think they did. I think they got coords to you.” Etho leans forward. “Think about it. The portal didn’t open at spawn, it opened down the hill from the ranch- where you were. I think that was intentional, considering you’re the whole reason they came.”

Jimmy’s mind is spinning. “But... how? And how’d you figure all this out?”

Etho shrugs a shoulder. “Uh, educated guess? Like, just kinda based on the things Bravo said, and what Tango’s told us about Hels and the players it spawns. But um, looking at his comm just now basically confirms it for me.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, surprised. “How?”

Etho tilts his head. “Communicators are pretty special items. They’re unique to the player they spawn with- even a replacement communicator like this one. It might not have the hard locks on it that prevent it from summoning portals, but it’s still unique to you. And based on its data, I can tell your player data is a little different. I think it has to do with you being from Hels.”

Tango hesitates. “Okay, and…?”

“If you and Bravo are really counterparts,” Etho says, “then I’d expect your data to be similar. Like, the same word in different languages, in a metaphorical sense. So if Bravo’s data was fed into a nether portal, it’d translate it to your data, and open a portal at your coords. Plus or minus a few blocks, probably.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So… you’re sayin’ they used Bravo to open a portal to Tango?” he surmises.

Etho nods. “I’d need Bravo’s comm or a look at his player data to confirm, but that’s my best guess, yeah.” He holds the communicator back out to Tango.

Tango stashes the communicator in his inventory. “So wait, what about- how does the firewall thing factor in, here?” he asks. “If it stops comm portals, wouldn’t it stop a nether portal, too?”

“Yes and no,” Grian answers. “A firewall works by constantly scanning for portals. If it finds one trying to form, it’ll crash it. If a nether portal was used to travel between different worlds, rather than two realms on the same world, a firewall would recognize it all the same.”

“But,” Etho continues, “if they somehow figured out how to stabilize the portal… like, by sending a constant stream of updates… it’d constantly reset the scanner of the firewall. Sort of like an update suppressor. That way, the uh, the firewall can never actually register the portal as a problem and shut it down. So that’d be one way they could keep a hacked nether portal open, even in the face of a firewall.”

Tango exhales slowly. “Okay…” he says, “and how do we stop them from doing that ever again?”

Impulse winces. “That, we’re not sure about. I mean, if Bravo wasn’t there for them to grab a signal from, I guess that’d stop them. However they built a portal, it probably needs his data to function.”

“Oh, well, great.” Tango throws his hands up. “No way he won’t help them again, he hates my guts. Only reason they haven’t come back yet is ‘cause Grian locked the world down, I- I guarantee it. But we can’t just all stay locked in here forever, you’ve all got lives and other worlds to get back to.”

Jimmy frowns, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Tango, anyone who’s got a problem with you has a problem with all of us.”

“For sure,” Grian agrees.

“Besides,” Impulse says, shrugging, “not to toot our own horns or anything, but I think we handled ourselves just fine against them.”

“You mean Pearl’s wolves handled them,” Tango says flatly. “And you guys had the element of surprise. I guarantee the only reason they went down so easy is ’cause they weren’t expecting much resistance. They show up again, now knowing what they’re up against, and that’s- that’s gonna turn out a whole lot differently.” He crossed his arms. “I need to leave, before Grian opens the world back up.”

“And what, just wait for them to come after you?” Jimmy demands, his wings puffing up. “Absolutely not.”

Tango makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. “It’s- you understand it’s only a matter of time, right?” he stresses. “Maybe it won’t be right after Grian lifts the lockdown, okay, maybe it’ll be days, or weeks, or months. Either way, it’ll happen eventually, and when it does… whether it’s- if that happens here, or back on Hermitcraft, or the next Life world... the result will be the same. People I care about will get caught in the crossfire, I- I’m not lettin’ that happen again.”

Jimmy pauses, wings drooping. The distress in Tango’s voice is sobering. There’s no question that Tango cares fiercely about his friends, and the guilt for putting them in harm’s way must be staggering. But still, he insists, “We don’t mind stayin’ put-”

“For how long, though?” Tango asks pointedly. “I can’t ask you guys to stay here forever. Like, I- I can’t stress enough how obsessive Atlas is. He came for me after ten years, okay, he’s not gonna just give up or lose interest. There will always be the risk of them opening another portal to me, so long as Bravo is in Hels.”

“So what if Bravo wasn’t in Hels?” Impulse cuts in.

Tango gives him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Impulse’s eyes are alight with excitement as he gains steam with his idea. “What if we went to Hels and got him out? That way, he’s not mad at you for being stuck there anymore, right, and Hels Tek can’t use him to make another portal.”

“What, you mean we open a portal to Hels?” Tango asks, raising his eyebrows. “I- I thought we already established that our comms can’t take us there, what- how are we supposed to get there?”

“The same way they got here,” Etho says. “We use your data to open a hacked nether portal to Bravo. Ahah.”

As intimidating as the prospect of encountering Hels Tek again is, Jimmy has to admit it’s probably the only solution. They can’t just ignore the problem and hope it goes away, not if it means Tango could get randomly attacked at any moment. And with all of the Double Lifers together, they stand a much better chance of succeeding.

“That’s a great idea!” Jimmy exclaims. “We grab him, shake Atlas down for the key to the collar while we’re at it, and get out. Problem solved.”

Tango doesn’t seem nearly as enthused. “No way. Absolutely no way. That’s- that’s way too dangerous, if you guys get stranded there- and Atlas is already looking for more hybrids to make farms with, he was about to take Jimmy for a feather farm!”

A brief silence follows this revelation.

Grian grimaces, ruffling his wings. “Oh, woof.”

“What?” Impulse asks, taken aback. “That’s why he had Jimmy chained up, too?”

Jimmy blinks. “Oh, is that what he meant?”

“What’d you th- you didn’t know?” Tango asks incredulously.

Jimmy holds his hands up. “Hey, hey, I didn’t spend much time thinkin’ about what he said to me!” he says sheepishly. “I was more concerned about you.”

Tango pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh. Oh, great. Well yeah, that’s what he wanted you for, to stick you in a feather farm skadoodler for all eternity.”

Jimmy swallows. No wonder Tango’s been so against the idea of them going against Hels Tek again. Death is no big deal- they’d simply respawn. Few injuries cause lasting damage. But being trapped in a farm like that, with no means to escape…

“Well,” he says, “that still doesn’t change my mind. You’re his number one target, okay, you can’t go without backup.”

“No,” Tango huffs. “Let me do it. I- I know Bravo shouldn’t just be left there forever, but that’s not your guys’ faults! It’s my life, my mistake, you guys shouldn’t be putting yourselves at risk like that-”

“Tango,” Jimmy interrupts, “we’re not gonna make a portal to Hels and just send you through alone-”

“Well, I’m not letting you guys come with me!” Tango shoots back. “Most of you guys are hybrids or monsters, too, and I’m not gonna risk Atlas turning you into farms.”

Grian clicks his tongue. “Ey, we wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “and what’s the alternative? You just take off to some solo world until Hels Tek comes a’knockin’?”

Tango shrugs. “I mean, I’d be fine with that-”

“No,” Jimmy says firmly. “I’m not lettin’ that happen. This is our only option, to put this problem to bed forever, and we stand the best chance if we do it together. We have to take it.” He grabs Tango’s hand. “Please, Tango.”

Tango hesitates, staring at their intertwined hands.

Now more than ever, Jimmy desperately wishes that he had some sense of what Tango’s thinking- even just the slightest insight to his thoughts, the faintest impression of an emotion through their soulbond. Especially since he’s had his confidence in reading Tango so thoroughly shaken over the last week. It’s scary to consider that he might not know Tango nearly half as well as he should, that Tango can so effectively mask his true feelings even from him.

“... fine,” Tango says, after a small eternity. “Fine, okay, we- let’s plan an invasion to Hels, sure.”

Jimmy gasps. “Really?”

“But,” Tango says warningly, “we gotta go about this extremely carefully, alright? No willy-nilly ‘rushing in blindly without a plan’ nonsense. And- and once we’re there, if at any point I tell you guys to flee, you- you best be fleein’, got it? With extra flee. No stupid heroics of noble stupidness.”

It’s a chance. That’s better than nothing. “Yes, alright!” Jimmy cheers. “Thank you!”

(Yay, we’re going to Hels- said no one ever.)

(Do they know what they’re getting into?)

(Oh boy, here we go.)

Etho shrugs. “Whatever you say, Tango, you’re the uh, you’re the Hels expert, here.”

Impulse folds his arms. “That’s a dirty condition you kinda tacked on the end, there,” he mutters, “but I’ll accept it.”

“Alright then.” Tango gives a tired sigh, but the corners of his mouth are curling into a smile. “I- I guess we’re doin’ this. We’ve got some room in the basement at the ranch, we can build it there.”

“Excellent.” Grian grins. “Let’s build a portal to Hels, fellas.”

~*~

Jimmy’s startled awake by a shout.

Heart pounding, he squints into the dark room. As his eyes struggle to adjust in the scarce light, he can just barely make out Tango sitting upright in bed. His rapid, shallow breaths wheeze through clenched teeth, faint sparks emitting from his dim blaze rods as they try to ignite.

“Tango,” Jimmy whispers, sitting up, “you okay?”

Tango’s breathing hitches. Then he turns to collapse against Jimmy’s chest, clinging fiercely to his shirt. His entire body is trembling. “Nightmare,” he manages to get out.

Jimmy’s heart twists. He knew it was only a matter of time, but that doesn’t make it any easier to see. Gently, he wraps his arms around Tango, then his wings for good measure. “I got ya,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

Tango tucks his face against Jimmy’s shoulder and falls silent. Maybe he’ll want to talk about it in the morning, maybe he won’t. But for now, Jimmy just holds him, and hopes that’s enough.

~*~

Jimmy stares at the redstone circuitry laid out before him. “I understand none of this.”

Though it’s only been a few days since they started work on the portal, they’ve already made a lot of progress. Impulse and Etho have been over basically around the clock, with Bdubs and Joel tagging along more often than not. They’ll watch the redstoners work until they get bored, and inevitably wander upstairs to bug Jimmy. Grian checks in on them every now and then, and the other Double Lifers have popped by for little visits, so it’s been a lot of activity at the ranch. Lots of people coming and going.

It’s strange, but not necessarily in a bad way. Almost like an actual pleasant community feeling. Neighbors helping neighbors and all that.

A dedicated digging session has left them with a bit more space in the basement, allowing them to section off a separate room from Tango’s sugar cane farm. They finished it with a stone floor and simple wooden walls at Bdubs’s insistence (he considered it unacceptable to just leave it all as freshly-dug dirt). An obsidian portal frame (complete with corners at Etho’s insistence) stands empty against the back wall, leaving abundant floor space for the redstone- of which there is plenty.

Redstone dust wires criss-cross through rows of repeaters and hopper lines. It’s all far beyond Jimmy’s capacity to understand, of course, but even Tango seems a bit baffled. He’s claimed many times that his understanding of redstone is surface-level at best, and that his real skill comes in applying the various components and systems in creative ways. But he’s at least been able to help with the construction, the actual placing of redstone components.

“Right,” Tango laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s- lemme see if I’ve got this right…” He points at a long line of redstone dust. “Main circuit to the portal.”

Impulse nods. “Yep.” 

Tango steps gingerly around the redstone, gesturing towards a rather complex looking amalgamation of observers and comparators. “This nonsense over here will turn my skadoodle bits into a fireable signal.”

Etho, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, chuckles. “Pretty much.”

“And this,” Tango waves at the hoppers, “will count out the final coords before they hop on the main bus line to the portal.”

Jimmy nods hesitantly. “Okay… okay, cool, so- so is it done, then?”

“Not quite,” Impulse says. “We need a player detector.”

Tango creases his brows together. “What, like a- like a pufferfish? A skulk sensor?”

“No, more like a- a whole separate system,” Etho explains. “It’s more than just registering your presence. We need something that can read your data, pick out your coordinates, and send them to the portal for translation to Bravo.”

Tango exhales slowly. “That… sounds pretty complicated.”

“Oh, it will be,” Impulse says, folding his arms. “I mean, just think about how much data each player contains, right, all the codes that dictate our behavior and biology… we don’t wanna overload this thing, so it’ll require some heavy-duty filtering.”

“Not only that,” Etho continues, “but uh, if that firewall thing turns out to be a problem, we’re gonna have to figure out a way to stabilize the portal, too. That’ll take some tinkering with different power sources til we find the exact right input to override the firewall’s checker.”

Jimmy winces; he’d been hoping for a quicker solution. It’s already been over a week since the invasion, and he knows Tango hates being stalled. The sooner they get this problem taken care of, the sooner they can stop worrying and get back to their normal lives. Jimmy himself doesn’t have anywhere else to be, but the other Double Lifers do. And even if they don’t mind the unexpected stay-cation, it definitely bothers Tango that their lives have been disrupted for his sake. Goodness knows he’s already got enough of a guilt complex.

But Tango simply gives a bemused smile. “Well, let’s get started, then.”

~*~

“Are we really sure we wanna do this?”

Jimmy winces at Tango’s tone. “I know, I know,” he says regretfully, “it wasn’t my favorite idea either. But if it can get that collar off’a you, we gotta try, right?”

Trying to remove the collar manually had resulted in a sharp, shooting pain through Tango’s neck at the slightest movement. Trying to remove it with redstone had proven unsuccessful- clearly, it was designed to be insulated against any outside signals. Trying to pick the lock had resulted in nothing but a lot of frustration. So that left them with their last resort.

They’ve moved outside, round the back of the ranch, to avoid getting blood stains all over their newly refurbished house. A random bed has been placed down to provide them with a quick and easy respawn, their items temporarily stowed in a chest. Impulse holds a Sharpness V sword, tail flicking as he watches them apprehensively.

“I’m only gonna do this if you’re okay with it,” he tells Tango seriously. “We can go back to the drawing board, come up with some other things to try…”

“No, no,” Tango shakes his head, “I don’t- you shouldn’t be wasting time on this, you’re already working pretty much nonstop on the portal.”

The frustration in his voice is evident. Impulse frowns. “I don’t mind…”

“Well, I do!” Tango says, crossing his arms and glancing away.

Jimmy exchanges a look with Impulse before putting a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder. “I know there’s a chance it won’t work,” he starts quietly, “and we’ll have killed ourselves for nothin’. No one likes gettin’ their head cut off. But it’ll be over quick, we’ll respawn straight back here, and then at least we’ll know we tried everything.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “Hey, I- I’m not afraid of a little decapitation, alright, I just… I feel kinda bad putting you through this, you know?” Guilt creeps into his expression. “It’s not your neck that the stupid thing is stuck on. You shouldn’t have to-”

“We’re in this together,” Jimmy tells him steadily. “So if you’re willin’ to try it, I’m happy to die along with ya.”

Tango manages a faint laugh. “Jeeze, honey, you- you don’t have to make it sound so dramatic. We aren’t on a three-life system anymore.”

Jimmy shrugs. “Well, that’s how I feel! Honestly, if there’s even a chance this’ll get that thing off’a you, I’m down.”

“Alright.” Tango takes a quick, steadying breath. “Okay, I wanna try.” He glances at Impulse. “Uh- commence the chop-ificating, then, I guess.”

Impulse nods; he’s keeping his expression and general demeanor calm, reassuring. “Okay, then. So here’s what I’m gonna do…” He carefully sets the edge of his blade along the rim of Tango’s collar, so that the metal is just barely touching skin, and then pinches the collar between the fingers of his other hand. “I’ll give it one quick, clean slice, and try to pull the collar off your body, okay?”

Tango tilts his chin up. “Okay,” he whispers. He’s nervous, now; every muscle in his body is rigid.

Jimmy reaches for his hand. “I’ll be right there with ya.”

Impulse tightens his grip on the sword. “Tango, gimme a countdown whenever you’re ready.”

“Alright.” Tango exhales shakily, closing his eyes. “Five... four... three... two...”

Jimmy closes his eyes and squeezes Tango’s hand.

“One.”

Pain slices across Jimmy’s neck- an intense, searing burn, like he’s swallowed a bucket of lava. There’s a rush of vertigo, the world spinning off-kilter around him. He’s instantly thrust into darkness, that all-consuming void with which he’s rather familiar.

And then it’s over. He’s back, sitting on the bed with Tango in a piled heap of limbs. 

Jimmy sucks in a breath. Now that everything’s stopped spinning, he can see that the collar is still around Tango’s neck.

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, sweeping Tango into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Tango’s laugh is muffled against his shoulder. “Worth a shot, right?”

Impulse, standing a few feet away and holding a bloody sword, looks dismayed. “No good,” he says as he walks over, putting the sword away. “Your body respawned before I could pull the collar off. But uh, that’s… not the only issue.”

That makes Tango look over. “What is it?”

“I caught a look at the inner face of it,” Impulse says, frowning, “the part that’s actually touching your skin? And, um… it looks like there’s a bunch of little… spikes on the inside of the collar?”

“Spikes?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I don’t know how else to describe them?” Impulse rubs the back of his neck. “Um, they’re black in color, not super big... probably thinner than my pinky finger but not like, needles or anything…”

“Oh.” Tango blinks. “It’s the thorns. They’re wither rose thorns. That’s how it works.”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “What?”

Tango spreads his hands. “When Atlas locked the collar, it must’ve caused a- a bunch of thorns to pop out and dig into my neck. But they aren’t- they don’t have the full strength of wither rose, so that’s why I’m not getting the full wither effect, and after a while, you know, they sorta- they numb the area, so I don’t feel them. But when we start yanking on the collar, it forces them deeper into my skin, so it hurts.”

“Oh... my gosh,” Jimmy breathes, aghast. “That’s- that’s horrible!”

The whole concept of the collar is already inhumane- to treat a fellow sentient player like a simple animal. But this? This is just plain evil. 

Impulse seems to be trying very hard not to get upset again. “Well, then,” he says, voice tight. “That rules out my next suggestion, which was to just go at it with a few sharp axes. I don’t wanna like, hammer those thorns deeper into your neck...” His expression turns thoughtful. “What if we try and get something sharp between your neck and the collar, slice off the thorns all the way around? Then we could-”

“No,” Tango interrupts. “Look, I- I appreciate the help, but if we tweak this thing the wrong way, it could probably jab an artery, or puncture my trachea, and then I’d respawn and be right back at square one again! No, I- I think we’re done.”

Impulse looks like he wants to argue, but Jimmy catches his gaze, giving him an imploring look. 

“Alright,” Impulse relents. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “we’ll get that collar off, I promise.”

“It’s fine.” Tango’s avoiding Jimmy’s eyes. “It... might not be the worst thing, you know, to have my fire locked down. Considering our fancy new house and all.”

Oh, they can’t have that. Jimmy puts a hand on his shoulder. “Tango,” he says seriously, “your fire is a part of you, and I’m not gonna rest til we’ve got it back.”

Tango sighs, but when he looks up, his eyes are fond. “I know.”

Impulse exhales slowly. “Do you... wanna try and get the cuffs off, then?” he offers.

“What?” Tango jolts. “Why? They aren’t hurtin’ anything.”

Impulse holds up his hands. “Hey, it’s okay, I just thought... if they’re from that terrible place, maybe you’d wanna get rid of ‘em?”

“And y’know,” Jimmy chimes in, “it’d be a lot easier for someone else to crack them off ya, couple good swings with an axe, maybe…”

“That won’t work,” Tango says stiffly. “They’ve been on me for so long now, been through so many respawns that if I’m not the one to remove them, it- they’ll just keep coming back.” 

Impulse inhales through his teeth, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Oh, man.”

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks, his heart sinking. He isn’t overly familiar with the universal rules that determine what does and doesn’t respawn along with a player, but Tango seems pretty certain.

“Yeah. They’re basically part of my data now.”

“Oh.”

The unspoken question is glaringly obvious: ‘why haven’t you removed them yet, then?’ The cuffs seem just as well-made as the collar, but surely there’s a way to cut through them. At least, he should’ve been able to find a way sometime during the last ten years- even if he wasn’t comfortable asking any of the Hermits to help him.

But Jimmy can tell Tango’s already hit his limit for today. It’s a subject he’s always avoided discussing in the past, so they’ll just have to wait until he’s ready.

(Oh, gonna make that mistake again?)

‘Shut up,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

“Need some help, hun?”

“Ack!” Jimmy gives a start, accidentally yanking out the feather he’d been teasing. He whirls around. “Tango!”

Tango holds his hands up. “Sorry, sorry!”

“Jeeze,” Jimmy laughs, catching his breath, “I- I thought you guys were still working on the portal!”

“Well, yeah,” Tango says, closing the door behind him, “but Etho thinks we need a redstone ore block and we didn’t have any layin’ around, so he and Impulse went mining.” He crosses over to sit on the bed, curiously studying the feathers strewn about. “Doin’ some preening?”

“Um...” Jimmy ducks his head sheepishly. “Yeah, just- just the uh, burned ones... they’re startin’ to itch.”

Tango gives him a sad smile. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to hide it from me, I- I won’t get all weird mega guilt-trippy about it.”

Jimmy softens. “I just... I know you’ve been beating yourself up about it, that’s all.” He gazes at the burned feather in his hand. “It was an accident. I don’t blame you.”

“I know.” Tango runs a gentle hand over one of Jimmy’s wings. “Can… can I help?”

Jimmy smiles. “Sure.”

~*~ 

“Wait, are you serious?” Tango asks, eyes wide. “You think the portal’s ready to go? Right now?”

Grain nods. “Yeah, I do.”

Jimmy glances between them with raised eyebrows. They’d called Grian over for a little update on the current state of the portal project- now complete with the fancy player detector system that the redstoners have been painstakingly building over the past week. But once Etho explained that the final step was stabilization, Grian had dropped a bomb on them.

“I’ve uh… been doin’ some research,” Grian continues, “and I’m pretty sure that Hels has a firewall that’s just been sorta… inverted? It’s still a one-way barrier, it just stops players from making portals out rather than in. ‘Course, it’s still inaccessible by comm portal, but our little set-up here should circumvent that. Once we’ve gotten the portal to lock onto Bravo’s coords, there shouldn’t be anythin’ stopping it from forming.”

Etho scratches the side of his mask. “Well, if we don’t have to stabilize the portal, that’ll definitely simplify things,” he says. “We might actually have everything we need already.”

“Couldn’t hurt to fire it up,” Impulse agrees, glancing at Tango. “Just to give it a little test drive? If we do get a portal open, we can easily shut it down right after. We don’t have to actually go through it.”

Tango hesitates. “But wouldn’t Grian have to lift the lockdown?”

“Yeah, I will,” Grian amends. “But I’ve actually just finished settin’ up a firewall, so when I lift the lockdown, we’ll still be protected. We’ll be able to leave through any portal we want, but no one else can get in without bein’ on the whitelist.”

“Wait, really?” Tango looks surprised. “Why- did you let the others know? I- I’m sure they’ll wanna get back to their other worlds.”

“Ey, I only just finished it!” Grian defends. “I wanted to let you lot know first, so there wouldn’t be any panic or confusion if people started randomly leavin’ through portals. I’ll inform the others, but uh, I’m pretty sure they’ll wanna just stick around til we get this done. Especially if the portal’s ready to go. All that’ll be left to do is come up with our plan of attack, and we’ll need all hands on deck for the actual mission.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says easily, “Hermitcraft can wait.”

Tango chews his lip. “I… I guess we can try it,” he relents.

“Great!” Grian pulls his communicator out. “Gimme a second to lift the lockdown, okay…”

Jimmy turns to Tango, taking him by the hands. “Hey, is this alright?” he asks softly. “We don’t have to try it today if you don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Tango assures him, squeezing his hands. “It’s just- it’s a bit sooner than I was expecting, you know? But this is good. I mean, if this works, then this whole business will finally be over.”

Jimmy’s eyes trace the collar around Tango’s neck. “Yeah. And not a moment too soon.”

Obviously they’ve still got a pretty significant task ahead of them. It’ll be no easy feat to storm Hels Tek, not if they’ve got as much muscle backing them up as they did for the invasion. Atlas is one slippery fella, and it might be hard to get Bravo to listen to them long enough to cooperate. But getting the portal in working order is another hurdle down, so they can shift gears towards the impending mission. And once that’s done, there’ll no longer be a threat hanging over them.

Suffice to say, Jimmy’s looking forward to getting back to his domestic bliss.

“Okay,” Grian says, glancing up, “lockdown is officially lifted. Go ahead.”

“Alright, Tango.” Etho pushes away from the wall. “Uh, just hop onto the redstone ore block whenever you’re ready, I guess? Everything should be in place.”

Tango exhales shakily, looking nervous, but he manages to give Jimmy a smile. “Here goes nothin’...”

Turning away, he steps onto the redstone ore block, which immediately lights up. It starts a sort of ripple effect along the dust that connects it to the rest of the redstone, triggering all kinds of ticking and flashing. It’s all Jimmy can do to follow the signal as it travels towards the portal frame-

Static fills the air, and the portal ignites. Swirling red light fills the frame.

“Oh, nice,” Grian breathes.

“Yes!” Impulse cheers. “We did it!”

“Okay, uh, Tango?” Etho nods at him. “Go ahead and step off the block, now.”

Tango doesn’t respond. He’s staring at the portal with an unreadable expression clouding his gaze, almost as if in a trance.

Jimmy quickly hurries to his side. “Tango,” he murmurs, gently shaking his arm, “come on.”

“Huh?” Tango jolts. “Oh, oh right, sorry!” 

He steps aside, and the portal remains lit. Impulse grins. “Alright, looks like we’re good,” he says, stooping over to hit a button next to the portal. A piston extends across the redstone line, and the portal extinguishes.

Jimmy lets out a breath of relief. An irrational part of him had been worried that Hels players would immediately start pouring through. “You okay?” he asks Tango quietly.

Tango nods. “Yeah, sorry,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I’m fine, it just… kinda hit me all at once.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says, “I definitely wasn’t expecting to have a working portal today, either. But hey, good job guys!”

“Yeah, nicely done, fellas,” Grian says, sounding pleased. He starts typing on his communicator. “I’m gonna let the others know we’ve got the portal workin’, and tomorrow… we’ll all meet to start planning our invasion of Hels. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with a solid plan to get Bravo, get that key from Atlas, and get out.”

Tango snorts. “Oh, sure. Easy peasy.”

“Don’t worry,” Jimmy says, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “We won’t go through til we’re all good and ready, yeah?”

Tango’s expression softens. “Yeah.”

“Right.” Grian puts his communicator away. “Get some rest, everyone, and we’ll see you tomorrow. Details in chat.”

~*~

<Grian> portal done. meet @ impulse and bdubs tomorrow at noon for hels invasion plotting. all ideas welcome

<PearlescentMoon> Ooh :0 

<InTheLittleWood> wait seriously? already??

<Renthedog> YO amazing job on the portal guys! :D 

<BdoubleO100> oh THANKS A LOT for volunteering us to host GRIAN!!

<Grian> :P 

~*~

Later that night, in the dark quiet of their room, Tango rolls over to nestle his head beneath Jimmy’s chin, claws bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

Jimmy hums. “For what?”

“For… not givin’ up on me.”

“What’d’you mean?”

“I mean… you know, I- after everything I did, and- and everything I said…”

“I already told you, that doesn’t matter to me.”

“Yeah, I know. But when I realized the secret was out… that things were- that we couldn’t just go back to normal… I mean, I was convinced it was over. Everything, my- my new life, my freedom, my friends. Us. But you never gave up hope.”

“Of course. It’s been a long road here, alright, I- I’m not givin’ that up without a fight.”

Tango tilts his chin up to look at Jimmy, red eyes glowing in the dark, and leans in to meet his lips. They kiss slow and sweet. Warmth hums in Jimmy’s chest.

This hasn’t been an easy journey, and he knows there’s plenty more challenges still ahead. Even if the mission to Hels goes well and they achieve all that they want to, the experiences Tango’s been through won’t magically go away. It’ll take time. Healing isn’t linear. But with everything out in the open now and the support of their friends, Jimmy’s hopeful that Tango can start to unlearn his self-hatred. Jimmy will be there every step of the way.

All too soon, Tango pulls away. “We should get some rest,” he whispers, settling against Jimmy again.

“Yeah,” Jimmy sighs ruefully, draping a wing across Tango. “Gonna need all two of my brain cells at full strength.”

Tango huffs a soft laugh. “Love you, honey.”

Jimmy closes his eyes, smiling. “Love you, too.

~*~

Jimmy wakes up to a cold bed.

That immediately sets off alarm bells in his head, because since when has Tango gotten out of bed before him? Then he opens his eyes and realizes it’s still night; a faint crescent moon hangs in the starry sky visible through their window. Their room is dark and empty. Tango is nowhere to be seen.

The alarm bells become a siren.

No, no, no, no, no.

Jimmy springs out of bed, sparing a second only to grab his shoes off the floor before throwing the door open. His heart is in his throat as he flies down the stairs to the main level- all dark and empty- and hooks the corner to wrench open the basement door. 

Already he can see the chilling red glow from the portal cast across the wall, a shadow of bleeding light, and a million curses scream through his mind. His stomach feels like it’s knotted in on itself and his lungs are burning for air, he’s moving faster than what seems physically possible and yet not nearly fast enough as he crashes down the stairs and bursts into the portal room, mouth opening to cry out-

Just in time to watch Tango vanish into the red light.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player walks through a portal.

Tango’s heartbeat pounds in his ears. He’s already started shaking- if it weren’t for the wither effect flowing from his collar, he’s certain his blaze rods would be igniting right now. It’s a bizarre mix of emotions. The scent of ash and the sight of netherrack are comforting, in a way. Familiar. But it’s also terrifying, because there’s no mistaking where he is.

(There’s a reason he doesn’t like hanging out in the nether.)

Fear threatens to swallow him. He pushes it down; he’s got a job to do.

Forcing a steadying breath through his clenched teeth, he takes in his surroundings, ears pricked cautiously. He’s definitely not at spawn- he’s at the border of a basalt delta, actually, fine gray particles fluttering through the air. Aside from the portal behind him, there’s not a structure in sight. No sounds save for the distant bubbling of lava and the distinctive slap of magma cubes.

Tango frowns, chewing his lip. The portal was supposed to take him to Bravo, so he must be around here somewhere. Why he’s not at Hels Tek, Tango isn’t sure. Maybe they’re out on an errand run? Either way, he ought to start looking around.

But first, he’s got to break the portal so no one can follow him. Everything he’d packed made it through with him, thankfully, so he equips his pickaxe and turns back to the portal-

Just in time for Jimmy to emerge, running straight into him.

The collision knocks Tango to the ground, pickaxe flying from his hand, his forehead stinging where it smacked against Jimmy’s chin. Blinking spots from his eyes, he pushes himself up on his elbows with a groan. Once his vision stops spinning, he locks eyes with Jimmy, who seems just as shocked as he is.

Both of them shout at exactly the same moment.

“What are you doing here?!”

~*~

[stxneflxwers]

worthwhile.

cw. hurt/comfort. feelings of worthlessness / self-hatred. lowercase. self-indulgent.

"i'm worthless."

aventurine didn't want to believe his ears. but he couldn't ignore what he heard, either. he didn't know how to respond, though. he was an expert in "comforting" others with what they wanted to hear. but you're different – so very different. now, he finds his throat dry, his tongue wordless.

"haha, sorry! i don't mean to talk like that... well, not too often, anyway." you wave your hands defensively, a wry and empty smile touching your features.

"don't lie to me." he blurts out.

"...huh?" you blink, dull eyes temporarily widening.

"i said – don't lie to me." he echoes, softer this time.

"sorry. i'm really sorry..." you grimace at your own mistake, holding back pent-up tears that span a lifetime of delusional self-hatred.

you really are worthless, aren't you? you sigh inwardly. the softness, the concern pitted in his voice goes unnoticed. and then he steps closer to you, his vibrant yet all-knowing gaze searching your expression.

"don't say sorry, either," he whispers, "i just... i want you to realize your worth. and i know this is a load of bull coming from me of all people, but..." he starts with bated breath before forcing a deep breath, "...you are worth so much. you're alive, right? you're worthwhile. you're worth every damn broken bone and mended heart."

your mouth hangs open, and silence becomes you. now you're the one with the dry throat, the wordless tongue. and then you smile, as tender as your heart may be.

"you should try saying that to the mirror, you know." you tease lovingly.

"yeah, yeah," he chuckles softly, waving you off, but he won't forget, he never can. "...but, please..." he pleads, a rare sight indeed, "treat my friend with a little bit more respect."

"i..." you sputter before a sunny grin graces your features, bright enough to lead him through his own darkness. "i will. but, you'll have to treat my friend with a little bit more respect, too. deal?" you offer your hand for a shake, a promise.

"deal–" he takes your hand, and you pull him into a tight embrace.

"thank you... my friend."

[pedriache]

awkward!arda x awkward!reader and they’re just both so awkward that it makes them laugh and it’s just eeeeuuuuugggghhhhh TOOTH. ROT.

Heavy - Arda Güler.

Pairing: Arda Güler x Fem!Reader

Summary: After an awkward moment at the beach during a join family vacation with yours and Arda’s, you retreat back to your bedroom in embarrassment. But when someone knocks on your door, the last thing you expected to come out of it was a kiss.

Word count: 866

Disclaimer/s: cursing, kissing, nothing but fluff!

A/N: Based on ‘Heavy’ By The Marías !

Face hot and breathing ragged, you slam the door behind you. Memories of the events that happened only ten minutes prior plaguing your mind.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m fine!” You rambled out, body still limp in his arms. You’d stumbled over your own two feet and face planted right onto the ground.

Arda, with his quick reflexes, he was already by your side, helping you up. “Are you okay?” He’d already asked you nearly four times by now.

Your face burned red as you’d started up at him, forgetting how close you two were. Faces inches apart, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

“Sweetie, are you alright?!” Your mother gasped from somewhere behind you, causing you both to scramble upwards and apart from each other.

Clicking the lock on your door, you rub a hand over your face. What the hell. Scrambling toward the bed, you face plant onto the pillow, screaming into it.

Why were you such a loser?

Three gentle knocks on the door snapped you from your self hatred. “Leave me alone!” You yell out.

The voice that calls out your name from the other side of the door, has you even further on edge. “Can you just open, uhm, open the door.. please?”

You slowly but surely tug yourself off the bed, inching your way toward the door. Biting down on your inner cheek, you let out of a huff of breath, opening the door just wide enough for your face to fit between.

Arda stands there, hands in his pockets with a tight lipped smile. He’s rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes. “The.. whole? Door?”

Oh. Right.

Opening it wider, you clear your throat. “Right, sorry.”

It’s quiet. Awkward. It’s tense..

“Uhm..” Arda starts slowly, “just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You give him your most reassuring face, although you know very well it came off as a grimace. “I’m completely fine, don’t worry! Thank’s, though!”

Another uncomfortable pause.

Then another.

“Do you want to go get ice cream?” Arda blurts out, cringing at the way he spoke.

You feel your cheeks burn brighter, “yes!” Too quick. That was too fast.

The teenager smiles, “okay! Do you want to go now, or..”

You make sure to wait a little bit before nodding, “yeah, just let me put on some shoes, uh.. You can come in..” Stepping aside, you give him the space to walk into the room.

Arda accepts, taking hesitant steps inside. He stands by the door after it’s shut, shuffling on his feet like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Quickly slipping into your shoes, you grab your purse and make your way back over to him. “Ready.” He opens the door for you, letting you walk out first. Cute.

“I saw a cool parlor down the street, figured we could go there?” He was trying to make small talk, the slight waver in his voice showing just how nervous you made him.

You smile at the bricks on the ground, “sounds good to me.” You weren’t the only one nervous here, although neither of you could set your own awkwardness aside long enough to notice the others was just as prevalent.

The rest of the walk was quiet, but surprisingly sweet. Arda would point out a few cool shops, and you’d gasp at every stray animal you saw.

Finally arriving at the ice cream parlor, you ordered your flavors. You chose strawberry, he with vanilla. In a moment of amusement, you grin. “Wow, so you really are vanilla then?”

It was a dumb joke. A lame, boring, dad joke. But he laughs. His head tipping back and his eyes crinkling at the sides. Oh, you are so screwed.

“You know, i’m not as vanilla as you’d imagine.” He retorts as you two make your way back outside to the seating area.

Eyebrow quirked in curiosity, you hum. “Oh? Is that so? What, have you..” feigning a gasp, you clutch your hand over your heart, “drank? At your big age?”

Arda grins down at you, his eyes twinkling with humor. “A sip or two.”

The longer you spent with him, the more you both grew comfortable with each other. He got your humor, laughed at your stupid jokes, he was perfect.

“Oh you got a little..” Arda trails off, using his finger to wipe away a small smudge of pink on the side of your lips.

Breath hitched in your throat, you stare at him. He’s so close, his vanilla scented breath fanning your face. Arda swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

He whispers your name, soft and sweet, just like him. “Can I—“ His eyes flicker to your lips, then back to you.

“Yes!” You squeak out, nodding your head.

Without needing to say another word, his lips are on yours. They are smooth, gentle against your own. You almost forget to breathe as your eyes flutter shut.

Only pulling away when you realize you needed air, you find that he’s smiling. You’d never seen that smile before. You know for certain then, you’ll never love someone the way you will love him.

DTS , @halfwayhearted & @zanxi

And remember, if you ever want tagged in specific or all things I publish, lmk! ^_^

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 11:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Angst. Canon violence

--------------------------------------------------

Three days had passed since the argument with Hunter that sent you storming from the Marauder with anger blazing hot in your veins. Two days since you’d left the planet, intent on putting all your focus towards the job Cid had given you.

One day had turned your anger into a suffocating heaviness of guilt and grief. Now it was something else - it felt strange and unnatural - or maybe it was just nothingness. Whatever it was, you wished the anger would come back. Anger was tangible, it gave you something to hold onto. Anger had a conviction - a purpose. Whatever it was that you felt now, slipped numbly through your fingers, floating aimlessly and as silent as the vortex of hyperspace you currently traveled through.

They didn’t come for me.

---

You had waited around Cid’s for a full rotation - unsure what for.

Did you really think they’d come looking for you?

Did they even want to?

“Give it up, kid.” Cid advised as you’d found yourself glancing over at the door for the thousandth time, “Dark and Broody ain’t coming after ya.”

You looked at her sharply. How did she know?

Cid shrugged, “Don’t look at me like that, Hotshot. I’m not stupid, you know. I’ve seen the way you look at him.” She smirked, “It’s the same way he looks at you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Then tell me why he hasn’t come.”

Cid threw down her washrag, looking annoyed. “You’re the idiot who ran away. He’s smart enough not to bother a woman who’s mad at him.” She scoffed, “Or he’s stupid enough not to go after the woman he obviously cares about.”

That’s when the anger came back, flashing brightly like the flame of a candle exposed to the air just before it fizzled out again. “You’re wrong. He’s not here because he doesn’t care. None of them do.” Disappointment settled like a boot on your chest.

Cid let out a bored sigh. “Then quit moping around and do something! I’ve got plenty of jobs around here and no one to do them. Might as well get paid if you’re just going to be miserable anyway.”

You looked at her quizzically then groaned. “Alright… where do you need me to go?”

---

The ship shuttered as it dropped out of hyperspace, pulling you back to the present as you came into orbit around the moon Cid’s coordinates had directed you to. You chuckled bitterly.

Well joke’s on them. I don’t need them either.

---

“Omega, come on! We need to make a supply run in town,” Hunter called down the ramp as he slung his pack over his shoulder. He frowned as she made no move to get up, though he was certain she’d heard him. He set his pack down and walked over to her. She sat on the ramp, resting her arms and chin on her knees, as she looked blankly out at the empty road.

“Omega..” he sat down beside her.

“It’s been three days, Hunter. Where is she?” Her muffled voice broke his heart. She’d been crying and he had no words to comfort her.

There had only been two times in his life that Hunter found himself with no idea what to do.

The empty numbness that dug its relentless claws through his skull screamed at him in an overwhelming self-hatred after their first real mission failure which left Wrecker clinging to life.

Failure. Coward. Pathetic.

It was the same feeling now that spread through his bones. I should’ve run after her. Now it’s too late. Mission failure once again.

The gut-wrenching flood of emotion that came with being a parent and falling in love was more unyielding than any enemy he’d faced before. It’s the one thing they didn’t train us for. At least when an enemy combatant refused to cooperate, there were many ways to get what you wanted out of them. Hunter didn’t know how to react when it was his own thoughts that refused to comply.

“I don’t know, Omega.”

“She’s coming back though, right?” She looked up at him but he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.

He spun his vibroblade anxiously. “I hope so.”

“Wrecker went out looking for her, you know.”

Hunter straightened in surprise, turning to look at her. “He did what?”

Omega wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sat up. “Yeah. He left this morning. He said he was gonna find her and make everything better again.”

As if on cue, Wrecker came barreling down the road, skidding to a stop just shy of the ramp panting and out of breath. Hunter stood up as Omega dashed to his side.

“What is it, Wrecker? Did you find her!? Is she okay?!” Her eyes were wide and Hunter was glad to see some of the hopeful spark return. He just hoped that whatever news Wrecker brought wouldn’t snuff it out again.

Wrecker collapsed onto the ramp. “Phew… I’m never running like that again!”

“Well?” prompted Hunter, still nervously twiring the blade through his fingers.

“Huh? Oh yeah! I found out from some scumbag that Cid sent her on a mission. Said it was real dangerous.”

“What.” Hunter tensed. Suddenly that pitiful feeling of futility was gone, replaced by something he was all too familiar with. He slid the vibroblade back into its sheath with a deadly click, mouth set in a fierce line of determination.

“Did he say anything else?” Omega asked.

Wrecker laughed. “Yeah. When I hung him upside down from the roof, he cried.” He turned towards Hunter and his smile faded into a growl. “Hunter, he said it was a suicide mission. He said nobody gets outta there alive. That’s why I ran all the way here.”

Omega gasped, “Hunter we have to go after her! She might not know it’s a trap!”

Hunter had already strapped on his pack and secured his blaster.

“Tech, Echo! Start the ship.” He called out. “I’m gonna go have a little chat with Cid.”

Loosened by the adrenaline as he ran, a sudden moment of clarity fell upon him. He’d been thinking about this all wrong.

You were not a mission in which to succeed or fail. You were a part of him - the missing link in his short mess of a life - and he would do everything it took to get you back.

The door to Cid’s Parlour opened with a slam. Cid nearly dropped the glass she was cleaning as she looked up to see Hunter striding over to her, fire in his eyes. The only two patrons in the room fled, feeling the mood of the room sour almost immediately. Cid set the cup down in obvious annoyance. “Hey! You can’t just storm on in here, scaring away my customers like that! I’ve got bills to pay here.”

He didn’t seem to hear her as he pointed a sharp finger in her direction.

“Where is she?”

Cid smirked, deciding to play coy. This could get interesting, she thought as she dried her hands, making sure to look as unbothered as she possibly could.

“Where is who? You gotta be more specific.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes, “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

She tapped a finger on her chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… I really don’t think I do.”

Hunter sighed, exasperated. “I don’t have time to play your games, Cid. Tell me where you sent her.”

Cid sighed, suddenly bored of whatever ruse she’d cooked up to mess with him. “Fine.”

Hunter clenched his teeth. “I need to know, Cid. Now.”

“Cool your jets, Dark and Broody.” Cid rolled her eyes. “Your girlfriend’s fine. She asked me for a job and I gave ‘er one.”

Hunter’s face darkened. “Where. Is. She.” His white knuckled fist slammed down on the counter. “I promise you I won’t be so nice if I have to ask you again.”

Cid raised her hands in a mocked surrender. “Look, I promised her that I wouldn’t tell any of you lot where she went. She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Hunter's hands shot across the bar, vibroblade suddenly poised in a violent threat at her throat. His voice was dangerously low. “She could be in real danger. Tell me where you sent her. Now.”

Cid gulped, backing into the wall, knocking a bottle onto the ground where it shattered. She glared then raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright fine! Put the knife down and I’ll tell you!”

Hunter lowered the knife. Cid nervously rubbed her throat. “Geez… I can see why she likes you so much. I sent her to a small moon in the Sullest system. Doesn’t even have a name. Hardly anybody goes there at all.”

Hunter glared daggers.

“Relax, Dark and Broody. She’s not in any danger. It’s just a simple snatch and grab. The mines over there are full of stuff worth a ton to the right people.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Just give me the coordinates.”

Cid sighed, “Already done. Get outta here, lover boy.”

Hunter rolled his eyes as he turned to leave.

“Hey!” Cid’s voice called after him. “You owe me for that bottle. Corellian Whiskey is hard to come by these days!”

--------------------------------------------------

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[puzzleglum]

To share at least one post for the 10 year anniversary of The Glass Scientists, here's a theory for the next few pages!

I believe Fake!Jasper is finally gonna show up. Sage confirmed a while ago that we'd see him eventually. And I think his words will carry more teeth than those from the other "fake" constructed-image people in Jekyll and Hyde's head. He's likely still gonna have a face, because the real Jasper hasn't been knocked off the pedestal Jekyll put him on, yet.

What does Fake!Jasper represent? Mainly, the Good Leader, and Jekyll's shame of not living up to that ideal. Jasper knew just what to do to get through to the Lodgers, and convince them all to get back to work on the Exhibition, remember?

Fake!Jasper could be really nasty. He could be the voice in Jekyll's head that's saying: now that you've sacrificed yourself, you are FINALLY a Good Leader. You did it. Don't you dare be selfish and take it back! They don't need you anymore. You're replaceable. The real Jasper can handle things without you.

Remember Jekyll's last words to the Society, before he buried himself in his mind?

Yeah. Oof.

Another source of shame is how Jasper called Jekyll out on his wallowing, over Lanyon AND the Lodgers. Because he was right, Jekyll was wallowing. And in particular, I'd like to point out how Jasper challenged Jekyll's belief that it's simply impossible for queer people to be happy, and find lasting relationships.

Look at these thoughts Jekyll has, waking up the morning after he FINALLY took the risk of telling Lanyon he truly wanted him. Thus getting back together, after so long of suffering, and pining for him in silence.

So another thing Fake!Jasper could represent is Jekyll's shame and frustration over not saying anything to Lanyon, about his true feelings, for 15 years.

The real Jasper isn't perfect at leadership either, or navigating the troubles that often come with being queer. But the "fake" people, that represent constructed images and the shame of not living up to them, aren't about being real. They're voices in Jekyll's head that poke at him for not being "perfect" and "good" and living up to impossible, pure ideals. Perfect boxes, that nobody actually fits into fully. And yet Jekyll wishes he did.

Shame is Jekyll’s prison. He's always comparing himself negatively to his idols, the people he admires. He feels like a fraud, an imposter who tries to emulate them, but always falls short in some way. Not a real aristocrat. Not a real scientist. Not a real leader. Henry Jekyll is basically impostor syndrome personified.

He needs to let them go. To ignore them. Their control over him, the shame of not living up perfectly to ANY of these ideals. Nobody does! Remember when Fake!Lanyon talked about the reason he lost his face?

Where do these impossible ideals even come from, if nobody actually lives up to them? That, too, is a question that likely needs to be answered in the narrative.

As for me, I think it has a lot to do with Jekyll's anxiety, self-hatred, perfectionism, and tendency to negatively compare himself to others. He often thinks others must be better than him in some way. Uncritically listening to these voices is another way Jekyll tends to harm himself.

Note that Jekyll called Hyde a mistake before, and now that's echoed by Fake!Lanyon. These voices say things that Jekyll believes about himself, deep down. That's why dealing with them is important.

It's only right that Hyde should have to face them now, theme, character arc, and narrative wise. These insecurities are some of the reasons Jekyll chose to bury himself away, resigned to his own fate. Hyde needs to argue back against these voices--or at least acknowledge and understand them and what they TRULY are, and so figure out how to properly ignore them--before he's ready to face Jekyll. Hyde will need to gain some insights into their own head (their psyche, why they are the way they are), if he wants to have any hope of convincing Jekyll to come back to the waking world.

However it's gonna go, I'm very excited to see this confrontation between Hyde, and Jekyll's voices of shame and insecurities continue! Thanks for reading, and please share any thoughts in the replies or tags! I love reading people's feedback!!

(Also, if my arguments don't quite cohere, please feel free to blame it on me being sick while I wrote this. Agh! I'm very tired of the fact I got sick again within a two month period. Sigh. Writing needs must, sometimes.)

[arsonlookers]

Broken Marriage

childe x reader ANGST [modern au]

[ warning: A LOT OF SWEARING PLEASE BE REMINDED AND TALK OF INFIDELITY ]

You two have been in a healthy and romantic relationship for over 6 years, you're marriage looked perfect from an outsider's even your parent's perspective. Childe was blunt and sarcastic and cold sometimes but he was loving and sweet at times, and you can tell he truly cares.

Over time for one year and a half, you noticed that Childe had slowly been growing colder and driving away from you. He seemed extremely uncomfortable when he walked in the room and he'd always make excuses for staying out late. He didn't love you the same anymore for this past year.

He comes home late as he usually does and goes to his little office room where he always usually stays

"Childe?" You called out to your husband from the other room. "Are you okay?" You were met with silence and for a moment you thought he didn't hear you. He finally spoke over the sound of his computer.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He replied but his tone was obviously irritated.

look at his door room totally not convinced, you already know what is going on you just want confirmation on why the hell is he acting like this this time.

so You enter his little office room and look over at him. He was leaning back on his chair, looking at his screen and typing away. You couldn't read his expression but you had a feeling something was wrong. again

You walked over and gently touched his arm. "I know you're not okay. Please talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, babe."

He didn't tear his eyes from his screen, his voice was quiet but you could hear the coldness in it. The last time he called you "babe" was a month ago.

SO full and irritated by this kind of behavior he has with you. You are so done now, you are done being PATIENT with him, and all his tantrums.

You coldly say to him "Did you really think" You glare at him

This time He finally looked away from his Screen and turned towards you. His face was cold and serious, the exact opposite of his old loving self. He seemed to be holding back a lot of words.

you continued "I'd just forgive and forget...no" This time you are ready to spill the secret he has been holding onto you

The look on his face remained unchanged. After a short pause he let out a sigh, like he was preparing for a speech.

"Look, I don't know how to be any clearer, but I've just been feeling different lately. I don't feel the same about you anymore."

" After all this course of a year, After catching you with her that day, Your blood should run cold" You continued

Childe's look went from cold to pure hatred as the words "her" left your lips. He gripped the sides of the chair, his knuckles slowly turning white.

"Her?" He repeated and you could see his lip twitch.

"Oh don't you dare pretend now Childe" You glared hard with range but still keeps your calm cold tone as you said that

"so cold" Looking down at him from where you are standing "You,…you two-timing, cheap lying, wannabe"

Childe's hands gripped even tighter and he slowly stood up from his seat. This wasn't the man you knew, this was a stranger.

*"You're nothing but a dirty whore who can't keep her legs closed." His voice was low but it was clear how much anger he had stored inside.

feeling offended and hurt by what he said you Slap him hard on his right cheek for what he said.

He flinched and his face immediately turned red to match his mood. His eyes narrowed and he glared up at you with hatred. He rubbed his cheek and stepped forward, he seemed like a different person now. You didn't know how far he'd go but you had a gut feeling he'd do something worse if you provoked him further.

'but I am not scared of him at all' You thought as you stood your stand and face him with your own coldness and glare "You're a fool if you thought that I'd just let this go"

Childe was clearly annoyed by your lack of fear. He let out a short scoff and grabbed your arms.

"You won't let this go? Is that a threat? Because I'm warning you right now, you don't want to see what I'm like when I'm angry."

"Oh Childe I think you already are " you glared at him "You have been like this…you have changed…" mocking him "You not the same person I married 6 years ago"

Childe's face scrunched up from your mocking. He leaned closer to you, so that his face was inches from yours.

"You're right, I'm not the same person I was 6 years ago. You're not even the same person. This marriage has gone nowhere but downhill for the past year and I don't think it's going to go anywhere. We both deserve to find someone that's right for us and that person isn't each other."

feeling like something inside you boils from his statement "God you’re just so obvious, Is that why you Already CHEATED on me huh?" questioning him with a tone of mocking

Childe let out a low growl, his grip on your arms tightened.

"Why can't you just keep your whore mouth shut? It's not my fault you aren't good enough for me, it's not my damn fault for liking her more than you. If you just tried to be better instead of playing the victim all the time…"

something inside you was breaking but at the same time too cold and indifferent from what you are feeling currently just anger and disappointment coursing through your veins

"Do you really think I needed it? Your fcking opinion means nothing to me" with venom through your words

Childe's face was filled with pure anger, he was shaking now and you could see the veins in his neck starting to bulge. He was completely losing control.

"Then why the hell did you even marry me in the first place?! Why would you let me waste 6 years of my life on you if you don't even care about what I think?"

You look at him dumbfounded as if you are hearing to the most stupidest things you have heard of

"That is because I didn't marry a cheater before Childe!? Just why did you change?! what did you see in her that I don't have?? "

Childe looked down at you with a frown. The anger on his face seemed to fade a bit, like he was beginning to pity you now.

"I didn't change I just realized things about you. I realized that I married the wrong person. You're weak and insecure and it's honestly pathetic. And if you want to know what I saw in her, she's everything you're not."

This time you can feel the little love you have left for him is starting to fade and break away from what you are feeling changed by hatred, shock, sadness, anger, and all negative emotions you feel in the course of your life

"…..wow" in a sarcastic tone "Really wow" The look of disbelief was evident on your face

As he sees your reaction he didn't like it one bit so he said it again

"Do you want me to say it again for you? If your dumbass didn't get it the first time."

Childe's voice was dripping with sarcasm but he wasn't lying. He was beginning to think you were even more pathetic than he first thought.

"Did you happen to forget, all the little details Like texting her In the middle of the night?Beside me!? Did you really think I'm that DUmb HUh?! HAHAHAHAHA fck Childe I didn't know I also just married a person who literary would be so fcking idiot " You backfired him back

"The texting during the middle of the night wasn't even the worst of it. I really didn't think you were that blind, but if that's the case, how did you not realize I've been seeing her more often than you. Your dumbass didn't even realize I didn't come home some nights because I was with her."

You could feel his hatred coming back into his voice again and his anger was starting to get to him.

'wow the audacity to get angry at me' You thought but at the same time what he said sounded so ridiculous and so outright sound like a joke to your ears

"pffftttt haha" you tried to surpass the need to laugh at the moment

"I should have guessed you wouldn't be able to handle the truth. I mean are we surprised? You can't even handle the fact that you're not good enough for me anymore."

He leaned closer to you again, his face being mere inches away from yours. The look in his eyes was scary, it almost seemed like he was going to hurt you if you said one more thing.

"HHAHAHAHAHHAHA you think I'm that surprised anymore?! What are you an idiot? you would think that "I" didn't know that my fcking husband is fcking another girl behind my back DIDNT know?! oh, let me tell you Childe" Pointing at his chest

"I fcking knew from the start I fcking knew all your business trips are just trips In her house to just fck her, and pretend you're both married, Don't even get me started with your list and list of hotels receipts just to fck her there you horny little shit!?"

Childe was now completely losing it. His grip on your shoulders was now so hard that his nails were digging in your skin. His breath was shallow and you could feel the heat emitting from his rage. The look in his eyes has completely changed, he was pure anger now.

"You knew? You knew all along and you still stayed? You are a bigger idiot than I thought. Is that why you weren't able to satisfy me? Because she was doing it better than you?" he mocked looking down at you with range in his eyes

But all you can feel is the need to let him know about what you truly feel at this moment. feeling a little sting inside your heart for hearing him say that but also feels your whole being, being able to let it all out.

"maybe?! Maybe LOVING THE FCK OUT OF YOU IS MY IDIOTCY . That's my fault you little shit. MY FAULT FOR EVEN STANDING UP TO YOU FOR ALL THE DRAMA THE PAIN THE TORTURE YOU HAVE FCKING GIVEN ME ALL THIS TIME!? YOU ASK ME WHY I STAY? AND SAY I'M AN IDIOT FOR IT??? HAHAHAHAHA SORRY FOR BEING AN IDIOT WHO LOVES HER FCKING CHEATING HUSBAND BECAUSE SHE CANTS JUST LET GO TO HER BELOVED AJAX?! you fcking shit " pinches his arms so hard that you are sure to leave a nail mark on it to make him let go of your arm

Childe lets out a roar of rage, his grip on your shoulders is still strong but he's starting to lose his strength since he can't keep on holding you back. All of the years of being patient with you have lead up to this moment now and he was finally snapping. He yells the next words with anger and hatred.

"Beloved?! You call being cheated on for the past year "love"? Love? You've got to be kidding me! You're just as dumb as I thought you were. I am so glad I'm getting a divorce!"

hearing this made you blow up and just doesn't care anymore so you reply with "OH YEAH?! THEN FINE I'M DONE?! YOU FCKING WHORE OF A SHIT AND A HORNY FCKING PIECE OF GARBAGE GO TO YOUR TRASH CAN WILL YOU MAYBE "SHE" CAN HANDLE YOU YOU PIECE OF UNRECYCLABLE TRASH?!" slaps him again* "Get YOUR FCKING HANDS OFF ME!?"

Childe's face went from anger to shock and pain as the second slap landed. His grip on you tightened again, his fingers tightening around your shoulders, his nails piercing your skin. Your words seemed to sting him but the pain just made him angrier.

"Shut your whore mouth, you stupid c*nt."

Hearing it you just can't stop talking back at him "OH YEAH!? ARE YOU TALKING TO YOURSELF?! Congrats!! YOU KNOW YOURSELF THAT MUCH!?" you sarcastically replied

Childe's body clenched and he grunted as the insult hit him. He didn't say anything but the fact that it hurt him was clear. Without warning, his grip let go of your shoulders and he pushed you away with such force that you fell backwards onto the floor. His eyes looked at you with nothing but hatred now.

So you stand up by yourself from the cold floor "bastard till the end" Cold glare as you contact his eyes with yours.

Childe stood there for just a moment, looking down at you. He was about to leave the room but he paused, as if he had something more to say.

"You're right; I am a bastard all the way through. I don't like you. Hell, I never even loved you in the first place. The only reason I married you at all is because I felt sorry for you."

Something inside you is now...empty after hearing what he said to you. feeling stabbed inside… again and again inside your pitiful full of holes and broken heart

"is that so… then let me tell you Tartaglia I only married you because I did loved you and I meant the Ajax that I married not the cunt like you .. So let me remind you clear EVEN if you married me because of pity I dont fcking care"

"Oh really? You don't care if your husband married you out of pity because you're as pathetic as they come?"

Childe took a step forward, getting closer to you again.

"I knew you were stupid, but I didn't think you were that stupid. Who the hell would love you if I didn't? You're not loveable."

with range blinding your vision third slap came from your right hand in a flash of the eye harder this time "Leave already you FCKING CUNT?! "

Childe flinches again, this time showing more of his pain. He seemed to be more in his feelings than he was before. He looks away and scoffs, he could've just left but he stays, as if he can't seem to walk away.

"Fine, I'm leaving. But before I do, I'm going to give you one last piece of advice: Don't be so fcking annoying. Maybe then someone might love you."

You look at him leaving the door

"then some advice from me is. Don't be such a fcking horny cunt who can't be satisfied by one woman. then maybe the only possible woman to love you truly and won't leave you for the rest of your lifetime." Slammed the door hard in front of his face

Childe's face scrunched up in anger as your words hit him once again. He wanted to say more, he wanted to get the last word in but, at the same time, he was ready for this to be over. He slammed his fists against the door loudly before finally walking away.

THE END[?]

Well, looks like this marriage is definitely over. The two of you seem to be going your separate ways now and it looks like there's no hope of reconciliation. Although the two of you have made harsh remarks at each other, it's clear that there is still a bit of underlying feelings.

You would be stuck with these memories of being cheated on and emotionally abused for years to come. The pain from all the events leading up to the end won't be easily forgotten for you, but that also isn't something that will stay with you forever you convince yourself. That, you will find someone better and have a healthier relationship, just like you wanted from your relationship with Childe.

Overall, it's safe to say that there are a few lessons to be learned from this story: don't stay in a relationship out of pity, and don't cheat on your partner!

If you want a Happy ending it's in the Comment section

A/n: Hi Ars here! I just wanted to say that I don't really know if this is counted as angst??? I mean that was pretty intense I tell you. Well, I don't really know for now since exams are over I think I will slowly start to work on my other drafts as well but at the same time take a break from the stress life has gifted Given to me. I feel like being sucked by mosquitos after answering problems 😢

P.s : hidden easter egg : search for the references :>

Anyway, help me decide if I should continue or no? Thank you Have a great day ahead of you!!!

©2024arsonlookers: do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[cutestbow]

Summary: y/n has to tell Jack the truth, (based off of the song futile devices)

Notes: I’m finally back!!, also very unedited so please excuse any mistakes!!

Warnings: self hatred, guilt, basically leading someone on. And that should be it if not let me know!!!

It’s been a long long time since I’ve memorized your face.

Laughter echoed throughout the dimly lit apartment i had been in for the last 4 hours, i had told myself id go home twenty minutes ago but that never ends well when im with my friends

“So y/n? hows jack going?” my friend asked, the question gaining attention from the others as if they had been wondering also.

“Oh it’s going well, he’s a really good guy.” I shrugged smiling at the thought of the brown haired boy.

“Thats it? You’re not going to give us any special details about him?” She groaned to my vague response.

“Yeah, like he doesn’t have a beauty mark on his left cheek-“ another one had chimed in

“No, his upper right lip!” I blurted out embarrassingly fast.

All chatter had stopped in that moment, the only noise being the tv that had been faintly playing in the background.

My face burned red from my sudden comment, if my friend no cited she hadn’t said anything about, she just smirked and took a drink from the glass that had been sitting in front of her.

“Well at least Christian’s out of the picture.” She stated once more before diving into conversation with one of the girls sat at the table.

I nodded but it didn’t feel right almost as if it weren’t genuine.

It’s been four hours now since I’ve wandered through your place.

Jack had left his apartment hours ago but i still remained after hours of him begging i stay and just watch the game from his house, so that’s where i had been left at now

Walking through the halls of his somewhat clean apartment, for someone who lives by themselves he really did try to keep some type of theme going.

I laughed at a photo he had kept near his bed of him and his brother when they were younger, it was a photo of when they lived in Canada the setting being somewhere snowy and the three brothers looking confused and unready for the photo.

I sat the photo back down and looked over at the clock that had also been on the side of his bed, i sighed walking out of the room and back to the couch to watch the puck drop.

And when i sleep on your couch i feel very safe, and when you bring the blankets, I cover up my face.

It was normal for me and jack to have our annual movie nights on friday, and work had kicked my butt the following week and I hadn’t planned on going this Friday but i knew jack had been looking forwards to it stating that he found a new movie that we might like so I couldn’t decline.

We had been laying on the couch, my head on his shoulder and eyes slowing opening and closing once and a while, i quickly snapped out of that stare once the arms that had once been wrapped around me were gone.

“Where are you going?” I asked as jack got up from his spot on the couch.

He didnt reply and disappeared into his bedroom, i had went to get up before he reappeared again, this time with a large comforter.

I sighed with embarrassment and guilt, “Jack im fine.” I said

“No you’re not, you’ve had a busy week. If you were tired, you could have stayed home.” He responded, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

He layed me back into the couch carefully wrapping the comforter around my tired body.

The droopy state from before slowly coming back

I shouldn’t be doing this.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

I let out one last sigh before I closed my eyes.

And i would say i love you but saying it out loud is hard. So I won’t say it at all.

It had been a beautiful day, and usually on days like these Jack would tend to drag me out of my apartment to go on a picnic.

I carefully set a blanket down over the patch of grass we thought would be perfect spot to settle, I watched as he set the basket down and very carefully pulled each container of fruit and crackers out.

Jack had always been easy to talk too I never had to filter myself around him, but I didn’t deserve a person like him.

I watched him as layed propped up on one shoulder talking about anything and everything, slowly biting into my cherry. I paused for a moment before rubbing the bitten cherry against his cheek leaving a pink stain.

I laughed at his reaction going to wipe it away before quickly getting pulled down and the previous cherry being rubbed on my face now

I laughed attempting to push him away but it was no use he was stronger.

“Now we’re even.” He spoke, smiling down at me.

we stared at each other for moments, three words I died to say lingered at the tip of my tongue but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to him.

And I won’t stay very long,

Tears rolled down my face as I found myself in-front of a door I’ve been faced with for months now, my heart banging against my chest.

I waited for a moment before the door swung open to a half awake Jack, his eyebrows furrowed in worry at my distressed state.

“y/n, what’s wrong?” He asked softly pulling me into his apartment, I pulled away slowly.

“I’m sorry jack” I cried lowering my head

“You’re so good to me, but I just can’t seem to-“ I sobbed uncontrollably, unsure if he could even understand me.

“I know.” He responded softly. My head shot up realization and guilt washing over me.

He knew the entire time, but why?, the question repeating over and over in my head.

“I’m so sorry jack” I cried, the sobs becoming more violent as he pulled me into an embrace.

“It’s not your fault,” he shook his head

“I just can’t see how I’m supposed to love if I can’t love myself.” I spoke once my cries softened.

“I want to love you,” I said pulling away, watching as tears threatened to spill from his eyes

“But I just can’t” I finished, attempting to wipe the spilling tears away.

He nodded in agreement giving me an understanding smile

“It’s ok” he reassured me as if I wasn’t breaking his heart.

“I understand if you’re mad or annoyed with me I don’t know why I’m like this” I spoke lowly, the lump in my throat making my words shaky.

Jack embraced me once more, this time hushing me

“If you knew why did you stay, why did waste your time if you knew you’d get hurt in the end.” i questioned

He sighed, “because the thought of not having you at all hurt to much.”

But you are the life I needed all along.

I smiled as me and a group of my friends stumbled into a bar we had been dying to go to for the past month.

the smell of alcohol and burnt out cigarettes washing over me in a second.

I watched as a few of the members separated going there own ways, leaving me a one ther girl.

We had decided to settle at the little bar ordering two beers for night.

I grabbed the cup swiftly taking a sip before setting it back down onto the table. I skimmed over the bar watching as people danced and played pool.

My heart immediately skipped a beat once I was met with a familiar pair of blue eyes that had been staring at me from across the bar.

I hadn’t seen or spoken to Jack in a year. Or really since that one night in his apartment. I would say we ended on good terms.

My face burned red as he waved at me with a soft smile.

I waved back, nervously smiling. I watched as he began to mouth something.

“You look beautiful.” he mouthed slowly

“I feel beautiful.” I excitedly mouthed back.

He laughed at my response from across the bar.

“Good.” he nodded.

[elainsgirl]

if the next book is really about the valkyries with gwyn at the centre, i’m sorry but that’s just terrible writing. it makes zero sense for sarah to write a book about nesta and her friend group yet again, when elain hasn’t even had her time to shine. why don’t they keep her name out of their mouths and throwing insults left and right about her. really tells you a lot about their shitty ass behaviour. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: they don’t care about elain. if they did they’d know she doesn’t want to leave the night court. her family, her friends, her home. azriel, even. and she certainly won’t leave for lucien, or with him. it’s like they’re projecting their wants for her/on her because if she leaves then she’s away from azriel, (the man she canonically wants and is romantically interested in but they again choose to ignore that and close their damn eyes.) and if that happens then azriel can find his real mate, right?

i swear they have selective reading and it really grinds my gears when they accuse us of doing shit or spewing nonsense when it’s literally fucking canon. right there on the page. sjm said it was obvious, like, how the hell can you just twist her words like that and think acotar 6 will be about azriel with a side character who he has shown no interest in besides being a friend mentor? they’re projecting hard and it shows. it’s not that difficult to think that the book will be about the third archeron sister with the third bat boy, and hints were left in previous books. what’s not clicking? or is their hatred for elain blinding them?

sorry i’m just… really upset right now 😂😭

Awe anon, there’s no need to be upset:

Here’s reasons why the next book can’t be about the valkryies:

Each spinoff is a standalone, interconnected through plot only. Meaning you will be able to go from acofas -> acotar 5 without reading acosf as you can do with most interconnected standalones, think of the Twisted series by Ana Huang. However, if the next book is about the valkryies…by default you would have *had* to read acosf, another reason why Gwyn cannot be an FMC, this defeats the purpose of it being a standalone.

HOFAS - Leans into the prison and made weapons plot, something the valkryies aren’t needed for nor apart off.

This quote by the end of acosf is literally telling you what is to come:

Do you see the Illyrian plot mentioned here? The valkryies can be useful in war as a fighting unit but that doesn’t require an entire book on them.

Now it is repetitive and bad writing for the next book to basically be the same as acosf instead of focusing on the million other subplots Mass has going on. Through Elain, she can explore a new friendship dynamic, a role, a new training scene etc.

Yeah, we’ve all known since forever that they dont care about Elain. 9/10 out of them are fake and only see Elain as a way to get a Lucien pov and take her away from Azriel. If they actually paid attention, they know their interpretation of Elain doesn’t align with canon. I mean…they listened to her when she claimed she didnt kill the king yet ignore Elain when she said she doesn’t want a mate and the NC is her home w Nuala and Cerr as her friends. They pick and choose what fits their narrative hence why its always changing and antis have come up with so many different plotlines for the next book as well as contradicting each other. On the other hand, if you look at elriel, elriels have always been consistent with their plots, characters, theories and takes.

Eluciens use Elain as a self-insert and project THEIR love and attraction for Lucien onto her which is why they claim she’s losing her boldness and shrinking back because “she just cant handle how down bad she is for him” which makes no sense but its not like they care. And we also know they have selective reading comprehension because they’re STILL arguing that Elain didnt kill the king despite the literal Publishers disagreeing w them.

They’re rlly being bitter about elriels just existing and enjoying the interactions from BB. Calling us toxic and spamming the comments when in reality we’re just excited because this is a lot of interaction we haven’t gotten before meaning something must be coming from Sarah. They hate the fact we’re bringing up elriel…when the brackets included elriel but also elain and az are part of the OG series and have had many iconic moments there.

mhm, pairing Az with a side character we’ve just met is crazy. This whole “21 chapter” thing should tell you how careful and considerate Mass is with her foreshadowing and connections, there is no way Mass would have introduced Azriels mate/Li in a spinoff, Gwyn would have been introduced much earlier. I mean…emerie was in acofas. I think there is a lot of attention on the wrong side character.

Mass laid it out clearly in the bonus: “Tell me how 2 brothers of mated to 2 sisters whilst the 3rd is given to another?” Is thats not blatantly telling you that, in a series where the theme of 3 is very significant, 3 brothers will end up with 3 sisters. Its obvious as Mass said it would be.