#I can’t stand this inferno we are having

[valoale]

WILL IT EVER STOP SNOWING

I’m tired

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part X

Word count: 10,825 Warnings: Language, violence, blood/injury, victim blaming, self-deprecation, fictional racism, discussion of past abuse, temporary death  Summary: After an unwise decision, Tango and Jimmy find themselves in Hels, at odds, and up against an old foe seeking revenge. But as everything comes to a boil, Tango realizes he must finally confront his past if he has any hope of saving his future.

A/N: Hey y’all, thanks so much for ur patience. Didn’t mean for this to take so long, I’ve been dealing w some health issues, but I’m doing way better now and on break from school so here we are. I hope u enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part X - no ‘who cares,’ no vacant stares, no time for me 

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player stares at his soulmate in shock.

Tango could’ve sworn Jimmy was asleep. He checked, he checked multiple times to make sure Jimmy was well and truly unconscious before slipping out of bed. And he’d been so careful about it, moving so slowly and quietly to ensure Jimmy wasn’t woken up. All he’d needed was for Jimmy to keep sleeping for not even five minutes- just long enough for Tango to sneak downstairs, grab the supplies he’d secretly prepared earlier, go through the portal, and break it from the other side.

Yet here they are.

The abrupt silence after their mutual outburst is blanching. There’s almost a static feeling to it, like electricity gathering in the air before a lightning strike. All of Tango’s previous thoughts have flown clean out of his brain. He can only stare at Jimmy, forehead stinging, mouth slightly parted as he struggles to make sense of what he’s seeing.

Jimmy looks similarly disoriented. He sits in a heap in front of the portal, bathed in the green-yellow-red light, his wings splayed out around him. His nose is scrunched up- still wincing from the pain of Tango’s forehead smacking into his chin, most likely. The recently-obtained scar across the newly-formed bump on the bridge of his nose stands out in sharp contrast against his other, more familiar, features. He said it didn’t bother him, but Tango feels a stab of guilt every time he looks at it. Even now, it’s a reminder of the pain Tango’s brought him. Of how Tango’s failed him.

Jimmy recovers first.

“What am I- what are you doin’ here?!” he cries, rising to his feet. 

Realization dawns on Tango as he finally grasps the reality of this impossible scenario he’s found himself in.

Jimmy’s here. In Hels. Jimmy is in Hels. Jimmy is in Hels. Oh. Oh no, oh that’s the opposite of what Tango wants. This is bad. This is really, really bad. This is a whole heap of bad with extra badness on top. Jimmy can’t be in Hels, he should never be in Hels.

“Tango,” Jimmy presses, taking a step forward, “are you listenin’ to me?”

Tango jumps to his feet, heart pounding. He quickly scans their surroundings- still no players to be seen, though some of those magma cubes in the distance are getting close. He knows they’re on borrowed time; there’s at least two players in this world who are bound to notice his arrival in chat, and the clock’s ticking.

“Tango?” Jimmy says again, uncertainty leaking into his voice. “You alright?”

Adrenaline floods Tango’s body. He feels hyper aware, like all his senses are in overdrive- his skin is prickling with heat, and if it weren’t for the wither rose collar, he’s certain his blaze rods would be swirling around in a defensive inferno.

He needs to get Jimmy out of here.

Despite their difference in height, Tango’s strong enough that he could probably push Jimmy back into the portal. He’d have the element of surprise, initially. But Jimmy’s build isn’t just for show- Tango would have a hard time keeping him in the portal for the few crucial seconds required to teleport. He might even get teleported back, himself. 

So instead of attempting brute force, Tango stalks forward- though not close enough to be grabbed- flattens his ears, bares his teeth, and hisses.

“Go home,” Tango hisses lowly. “Right. Now.”

That seems to take Jimmy aback. He raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “Ex-cuse me?” he demands, putting his hands on his hips. “Now, hang on-”

“You shouldn’t be here!” Tango interrupts, his voice catching somewhere between anger and desperation. “This is-”

“You shouldn’t be here! What-”

“You’re not safe here-”

“- tryin’ to- well, neither are you!”

“- and you need to go back!”

“I’m not goin’ back without you!” Jimmy gives up on trying to keep his voice down, wings flaring out in agitation. “I thought we were in this together! I- god, Tango, we want to help you, we all just wanna help-”

“It’s not your problem!” Tango snaps, his temper rising. “Alright? It was my mistake that brought Bravo and Hels Tek to our door, you- why should you have to deal with it? What, just ‘cause we got randomly assigned to be soulmates? You didn’t sign up for all this!”

Jimmy’s expression darkens. “Yes, I did, that’s what it means to be a partner.” He reaches for Tango’s arm. “Tango, I love you-”

“I know!” Tango jerks away. “I know that, okay? But you- did it ever occur to you that maybe I love you, too? Maybe I don’t want you to put yourself at risk fighting my battles for me? Because I love you?” He rakes his claws through his hair, a mirthless laugh escaping him. “Is that- did that happen to cross your mind? That maybe for once I- I did something ‘cause I love you and not ‘cause I hate myself? Maybe I could do the selfless act of love every now and then? I mean, is that- is that so hard to believe?”

Jimmy stares at him for a moment, brown eyes blown wide. Even in the absence of their soulbond, Tango can tell he’s hurt. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Jimmy says finally, voice quiet. “I know you love me. Of course I know you love me. But Tango, honestly- can you honestly tell me that this decision wasn’t- that- that it had absolutely nothing to do with feelin’ like you deserve to be here?” he asks desperately. “No influence on your decision at all? Not a- a single part of you that thinks it’d be okay if you got trapped here again, suffering forever? Not even the slightest bit?”

Shit.

Tango sets his jaw. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Jimmy repeats, disbelieving. “Of course it does-”

“No, I don’t- you need to leave!”

“I’m not leavin’ you, I mean it!”

“I already told you, I don’t want-”

“Tango, please.” Jimmy holds out his hand. He looks close to tears. “Let’s go home. We’ll figure this out, alright?”

Tango swallows back a frustrated whine; he doesn’t have time for this. Atlas has no doubt already noticed his arrival, and he still needs to find Bravo. And the longer they stand here loudly arguing in front of an active portal, the greater the risk of discovery. It’s already a miraculous stroke of luck that the portal spawned in an uninhabited area.

Jimmy can’t force Tango back through the portal any more than Tango can force him. Besides, starting a physical fight with Jimmy would probably be his breaking point. This is hard enough already. He spends a precious second to take in Jimmy’s face; the thin line his mouth has pressed into, the tears brimming in his eyes, the scar across his crooked nose.

Then Tango turns on his heel and sprints away.

It’s a last-ditch effort kind of gambit. He’s hoping that if he loses Jimmy in the basalt delta, Jimmy won’t know what else to do but go back through the portal for help. And once he does, Tango can swoop in and break it. Problem solved.

There’s a surprised shout behind him. Wing beats fill the air as Jimmy takes flight. But Tango’s head start has already allowed him to reach the first outcropping of basalt, pock-marked with pools of lava. Without breaking stride, he leaps up onto the ledge of stone-

Only for his foot to catch on a tripwire.

Pistons go off while he’s still mid-jump. The ground opens up into a black pit beneath him. His claws scrape uselessly against the lip of basalt and suddenly he’s falling, stomach lurching, too shocked to even call out as wind whistles by his ears and he plummets into the darkness below, Jimmy’s voice screaming after him.

“Tango!”

Traps. He forgot to look for traps.

Weightless, Tango struggles to right himself. The hole is pitch black and it��s disorienting, wavering light from his dim blaze rods flickering against the walls. His mind races frantically. Even if he could pull a block from his inventory and place it down under him- and he’s not sure that he could, at the speed he’s falling- the damage would kill him anyways. No, better to see how this ends. If he’s dumb enough to fall for a trap, he should at least give it the satisfaction of killing him as intended.

Although, Tango’s been falling for more than a couple seconds and he hasn’t hit anything yet. That’s unusual. Few trappers care to dig holes this deep when a shallow pit of lava will have the same result. Maybe death isn’t the goal here. Maybe-

Light, somewhere down below. As it gets closer, Tango thinks he can see the walls of the hole open up into a larger room. But the bottom still goes down- into a pit of cobwebs. So that’s it. The trap was designed to capture players, not kill them. But why-

“Tango!”

Jimmy’s voice echoes wildly in the tunnel. Tango glances back over his shoulder to see Jimmy diving towards him, arms stretched forward and wings flattened, body straight as an arrow. 

Tango doesn’t currently have the breath to call out to him. If he did, it’d probably be something along the lines of, ‘No no no no no, why did you follow me, you idiot!’ and that wouldn’t be very constructive.

Jimmy hooks his arms underneath Tango’s, snaps his wings out, and takes them sailing out through the gap in the tunnel.

The abrupt swerve makes Tango’s stomach drop. Jimmy barely manages to avoid taking them directly into a wall, wings flaring, wind whipping around them. They tumble into an ungraceful- but not deadly- landing, tangled up in a pile of limbs.

The room they’ve flown into is large but rather crude, carved out of the netherrack and deepslate that make up the deepest levels of Hels- more of a cavern, really. A few scattered torches along the walls provide the room’s only lighting, and they’ve landed among a collection of haphazardly-placed chests- a chest monster to rival Scar’s. The center of the room is occupied by the hole at the bottom of the dropchute. Beyond it is something that makes Tango’s blood run cold.

Half of the room is covered in elaborate redstone circuitry, feeding into an empty portal frame. It’s an eerily similar setup to their own portal, and Tango is at once certain he knows who this base belongs to.

He processes this all in the couple seconds it takes him to get on his feet. Jimmy’s still crumpled beside him, uninjured but disoriented. Shit. He hadn’t planned to have Jimmy with him for this confrontation and it has him on edge, his skin crawling. The room’s empty right now, but he can’t see another way out except back up through the dropchute- it’s a precarious place to be in. He doesn’t like what being backed into a corner does to him.

“Ugh,” Jimmy groans softly, pushing himself upright. “Not one’a my better landin’s…”

“Shh,” Tango hisses.

Jimmy frowns at him, rising to his feet. “Tango, can you just-”

“Quiet!” Tango urges, gaze flicking around the room. Their sudden presence doesn’t seem to have set off any alarms, but there’s no telling what the trap was hooked up to-

Ca-clunk.

Tango’s ears prick at the sound of more pistons. He whirls around, hackles rising, to see part of the adjacent wall open up.

“Well,” Bravo says, stepping into the room, “isn’t this convenient?”

Tango had been mentally preparing himself to see his doppelgänger again, but he’s still taken aback at the state Bravo’s in. His hair and clothes are wild and unkempt, the stains on his shirt indistinguishable between redstone and blood. There’s a weariness about him, like he hasn’t slept in days, yet every muscle in his body is tense, his bruised knuckles gripping a netherite sword. Most striking, however, is his face; his green eyes are so bloodshot they’re almost red, and heavily lined with dark circles that- in a bizarre way- resemble wither stains.

So for a moment, it’s like Tango’s looking in a mirror.

It passes quickly. Tango forces the tension from his body, holding up his hands. “Take it easy, alright, I just wanna talk.”

“I?” Bravo tilts his head to the side, taking another step forward as the wall closes up behind him. “Uh, it looks like- looks to me like there’s two of you, pal.” His gaze cuts over to Jimmy, and his mouth quirks into a grin- hard and humorless. “Good to see ya, Jimmy.”

Tango bristles. “Leave him out of this,” he says lowly, stepping in front of Jimmy. “He wasn’t supposed to come.”

Jimmy makes a noise of protest. “Hang on-”

“Ohh, oh okay,” Bravo says, nodding slowly, “I- I see what this is. This is- hah, wow, this is kinda perfect.” He begins to pace in front of them, idly twirling his sword in his hand; there’s an unsettling air about him. “Lemme guess, you uh- you intended to come here alone, but your soulmate had other ideas?”

He spits the word like an insult. Tango feels his lip curl. “None of your business.” 

“Oh? It’s not?” Bravo barks out a laugh- a sharp contrast to the enraged look in his eyes. “Well, you’re in my fucking house, so, you know. Forgive my curiosity.”

Anger flares inside Tango; he pushes it down. “Look, I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot-”

“You fucking think?”

“Enough!” Jimmy shouts, wings flaring as he throws an arm out in front of Tango. “Bravo, listen to me. I don’t like you, alright, but we aren’t here to fight.”

“Obviously.” Bravo actually rolls his eyes. “I can- I can piece it together well enough, okay. You figured that you could come rescue me from Hels, and then I- everything will be peachy-keen, right? I mean, if- if you wanted me to stay here, you wouldn’t have opened a portal. Except this one,” he stops his pacing, leveling his sword at Tango, “got it in his thick head that it was somethin’ he needed ‘to do alone.’ So he snuck off by himself, on a solo mission of noble, stupid self-sacrifice, in the hopes that it’d make up for what he did-”

“Shut up,” Tango growls.

“- and that it’d keep you safe. Right?” Bravo’s voice drips with malice. “Except poor Jimmy’s too good to let you take the fall alone so he followed you here, right into my trap.”

“So what?” Tango demands with a bravado he doesn’t feel. Truthfully, Bravo’s words have opened a pit in his stomach; he hates that Bravo has seen through him so clearly. “What, I mean- you want a trophy for figuring it out? And- and why set a trap for us if your plan was clearly to get out through a portal of your own?”

Bravo scowls. “That trap wasn’t for you, actually. It’s for the damn mercenaries that’ve been comin’ after us since I split from Hels Tek.”

Jimmy frowns. “Us?”

Bravo’s face twitches. “Wh- me. Whatever.”

“You split from Hels Tek?” Tango asks, furrowing his brows. He knew Atlas and Bravo had fought back on Double Life, but he wasn’t sure if that’d be enough to make Bravo willingly take on Hels by himself.

Bravo snorts. “Yeah, I- I uh, I don’t take kindly to bein’ stabbed in the back, but Atlas still wanted a portal and wasn’t gonna take no for an answer, so.”

Tango would laugh at the irony, if he didn’t feel so sick to his stomach. “Wow,” he drawls, still unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, “so it turned out Atlas only cared about you as far as he could exploit you? Imagine that.” 

Clearly, he’s touched a nerve. “Shut up,” Bravo snaps.

“Watch it,” Jimmy snaps back. 

Unbothered, Tango glances around the cavern. “So wait, you- it’s only been like, what, a- a couple weeks since you respawned here, how- where did you get all these supplies?”

“Eh, found a new sponsor.” Bravo shrugs. “You know, I was probably only a few more days away from gettin’ my portal up and running ‘til you guys showed up. But it worked out nice this way, right?” There’s a manic light in his eyes. “I- I was gonna get my vengeance on you once I got back to the overworld, but instead, we can do it right now.”

That’s all the warning he gives before he attacks.

He’s fast, faster than Tango’s expecting. It’s all he can do to shove Jimmy out of the way, diving into a roll that brings him quickly back to his feet. He only brought one sword; he pulls it from his inventory and throws it to Jimmy without a second thought, because he doubts Jimmy prepared at all before coming through the portal and swords have always felt clumsy in his hands. There’s a reason traditional PVP has never been his strong suit.

The sword has barely left his grasp before Bravo’s springing at him again.

Screech!

Tango brings his claws up in time to catch Bravo’s blade between them. The force of the blow shudders through his arms. Bravo’s strong, too- stronger than Tango would think for a non-hybrid version of himself.

“Stop it!” Tango huffs. “We don’t wanna fight you!”

“Too bad!” Bravo sneers.

Well, if that’s what he wants. Tango ducks under the sword and brings a hand up to slash at Bravo’s face. Bravo disengages, darting backwards, out of reach- he readjusts his grip for another swing.

“Hey, lay off!”

Jimmy charges into the fray; Bravo pivots mid-swing to block Jimmy’s blade, the clang of metal reverberating through the cavern. He leans into the movement, bringing his leg up to deliver a swift kick to Jimmy’s side.

With a pained grunt, Jimmy stumbles, off-balance. Bravo raises his sword to slash again- but Tango rushes him, forcing him back. Claws swipe through empty air.

“Gotta do better than that,” Bravo tuts, flicking his sword out to nick Tango’s cheek.

The sharp pain and sudden scent of blood is disorienting. Tango lunges forward almost blindly, a snarl catching in the back of his throat. Rage bubbles inside him, and he can feel his fire trying to respond- but with the wither rose in his system, it’s like throwing a match into a well.

Bravo deftly steps around him. “There’s that famous Tango temper again!” he taunts. “Go on, show us exactly how much of a monster you are.” 

The words sober Tango instantly. He swallows back his rage; the last thing he wants to do is lose control like he did back at the ranch, especially when Jimmy could get hurt. His fire may be dampened, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.

Then his ears twitch at a furious shout- Jimmy surges into the air, wings beating, and swoops down at Bravo. “Don’t you dare call him that!”

In the same moment, Tango moves to block Bravo’s escape route, aiming for his hands in an attempt to disarm him.

But Bravo’s ready for them both. 

He ducks beneath Tango’s claws and side-steps Jimmy’s attack, jabbing the pommel of his sword into Tango’s gut as a parting blow. Wings flailing, Jimmy pulls up short to avoid slamming into Tango- and yelps as Bravo’s sword cleaves a handful of feathers into the air.

“Come on!” Bravo goads them. “That the best you can do?”

Tango hadn’t gotten much of a chance to actually observe Bravo fight during the Hels Tek invasion, and he’s sorely regretting it now. It’s clear Bravo’s got more experience with PVP than either of them. And not the type of casual sparring between friends, but genuine life-or-death fighting- fast, messy, and brutal. Even being two against one isn’t helping them much; Bravo keeps on the move, twisting through and around them with a practiced ease that leaves them struggling not to accidentally hit each other.

A detached part of Tango’s mind runs through their options. Being killed and ending up at the world spawn would be the worst-case scenario; they’d basically be gift-wrapped for Atlas to come snatch up. But he doesn’t think joining through a hacked portal would reset their spawns; after all, the Hels Tek invaders wound up back in Hels after they were killed. Of course, he’d rather not find out for certain. And if he ends up respawning back to Double Life, his entire goal in coming here alone goes up in smoke. He won’t get another chance at this- the other Double Lifers will insist on putting themselves in danger to help him, ‘cause they’re annoyingly kind like that, and everything will turn into a big flaming ball of disaster.

So it’s really in his best interest not to get killed right now.

Except, he can’t help but notice that Bravo actually doesn’t seem to be trying to kill them. Most of what he’s aiming for are non-vital structures- arms, legs, Jimmy’s wings. When he does land an attack above the belt, it almost seems like he’s holding back, leaving only shallow gashes or a blunt hit with a skillfully thrown fist, knee, or elbow.

And despite clearly being the superior fighter, he’s mainly staying on the defensive. He isn’t taking nearly as many swings as he could. It’s an endurance game, Tango realizes- he’s trying to tire them out. But why? He’s on his own, it’s not like he’s stalling for reinforcements. There’s nowhere for them to go. That is, nowhere except-

Tango’s gaze falls on the pit at the bottom of the dropchute.

Oh. Oh, that’s-

Wham!

Pain explodes through Tango’s skull.

Bravo’s taken advantage of Tango’s brief lapse in concentration, landing a solid punch on the side of his face. It’s enough to make him black out for a moment, every thought in his brain screeching to a halt. When he comes back to himself, his cheek is pressed against the floor, made warm and sticky with his pooling blood. There’s a faint ringing in his ears- above it, he can barely make out the sound of swords clashing somewhere in front of him.

Tango manages to lift his head, blinking spots from his vision.

Bravo is driving Jimmy back- back towards the center of the room where the pit is. Tango opens his mouth to scream a warning, but he’s too late. As they near the edge of the pit, Bravo suddenly steps under Jimmy’s guard, hooking a leg behind Jimmy’s foot as one hand comes up to twist his sword out of his grip. Bravo’s other arm slams against Jimmy’s chest, knocking him off-balance.

Jimmy falls backwards with a shout, into the pit of cobwebs. He doesn’t fall very deep, of course- that’s not how cobwebs work. But he is immediately stuck, wings and limbs straining as he slowly begins to sink.

“Jimmy!” Tango cries, his heart jolting. 

Oh, this is bad. Getting out of cobwebs without a sword, while slowly falling through them, will be almost impossible. Especially since Jimmy’s feathers are particularly prone to sticking to that stuff and every movement will cause him pain as he pulls on them.

“There.” Satisfied, Bravo stows Jimmy’s sword in his inventory before turning back to Tango. “Now we can finally finish this.”

“No!” Jimmy pleads desperately from the pit, already disappearing from view. “Leave ‘em alone!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill him,” Bravo tuts as he approaches Tango. “That- I mean, that’d just send you back home, right? Hacked portals don’t do the whole spawn reset-ification thing, as it turns out.” He shakes his head. “No, I- what I’m gonna do is arrange a little meeting with our old buddy Atlas to come pick you up, okay, and- and then I’ll finally get him off my back and be able to leave this fucking place for good.”

Terror shoots through Tango. If Atlas comes here, with Jimmy trapped like this…

Head pounding, Tango struggles to get to his feet. “Y- you don’t have to do this,” he says weakly. “I know I messed up, a- and I’m sorry, okay? But Jimmy had nothin’ to do with it, he- you have to let him go, please.”

Bravo’s lip curls. “I’m not gonna let Atlas get him. Believe it or not, I meant it when I said I wouldn’t let another overworlder get trapped here.”

Despite the severity of the situation, the offended disdain in his tone makes Tango snort. “Oh, sorry, uh- excuse me for thinkin’ you’d ever do such a terrible thing,” he rasps. “I- I mean, you can’t blame me, right? You- it’s not like you’ve made a great impression.”

Bravo’s eyes darken with anger, and then his fist is in Tango’s stomach. The punch makes Tango double over, gasping for breath- then a well-placed kick throws him back against the wall, pain crashing through his ribs.

“What’re you doin’?!” Jimmy’s panicked voice sounds from the pit- he’s sunken far enough down that he can’t see them anymore. “Don’t hurt him!”

Bravo ignores him, stalking forward to grab Tango by the front of his shirt. “You’re one to talk, you piece of shit,” he hisses in Tango’s face, reeling back for another hit.

Crack.

This one lands the hilt of his sword against Tango’s jaw. Bravo drops him to the ground in a crumpled heap.

“Tango!” Jimmy’s scream sounds far away.

Everything is pain. With no small amount of effort, Tango pushes himself upright, breathing raggedly through his nose. He can feel blood trickling down his chin from his split lip, can taste it stained against his teeth. His head aches. His body is shaking. There’s a cold pit of dread in his stomach, and he knows that he’s lost this fight.

But more than that, deep down, there’s the realization that maybe… he always expected to.

(It’s not like coming here without Jimmy would’ve changed the outcome. No matter what Tango said or did, Bravo was always going to react this way- why would Tango think anything different? Despite his intention to extend the olive branch, he knows Bravo wouldn’t have been satisfied to just let bygones be bygones.

Truthfully, Tango had been prepared for this the moment he saw that red light fill their portal. Bravo had nailed it right at the start; this was always going to be a mission of self-sacrifice. If giving himself up meant placating Bravo and Hels Tek, if it meant that the people he cared about would be safe, then Tango had been willing to accept it. Even if it meant going back to the farm for the rest of his life.

He’s already had ten years in the sun. That’s more than anyone else in Hels got.)

Bravo looms over him, a mad, triumphant grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna spend the rest of your days in that farm where you belong,” he says lowly, “and out of the life you stole from me. You’re nothin’ but an evil monster, and it’s what you deserve.”

A strange feeling settles over Tango.

It’s like déjà vu, to sit here and listen to his doppelgänger repeat all the horrible things Tango’s believed about himself almost his entire life, all the things he’s told himself in the mirror time and time again. It’s his words spoken in his voice out of an eerily similar face, as if all his deepest insecurities have taken form.

It’s achingly, hauntingly familiar. Like a knife tracing over old scars.

And yet, there’s something odd about hearing it from another person. To hear such hatred and conviction in that voice, to see it so plainly in his eyes. Tango’s well aware that there are plenty of players who feel the same way- not just about him, but other hostile mob hybrids, too. He’s no stranger to prejudice; he’s noticed the wary looks and distrustful glares he’s gotten on public multiplayer worlds before.

Hell, Atlas is attempting to build an empire on the very concept of oppressing hybrids, and he’s had plenty of help to do it. Not just his fellow redstone scientists, but sponsors and buyers, too. Lots of players have reason to want Tango in a farm, to exploit and degrade him. But only because they would profit from it- otherwise they wouldn’t bother wasting so much time and energy on him. Sure, Atlas probably hates him to some degree, and is indifferent at best to all the pain he’s been caused. But Tango’s also certain that if he weren’t useful, then Atlas wouldn’t give him a second thought. If he couldn’t be farmed, Atlas would never have come after him in the first place. It’s all about ambition with Atlas; he wouldn’t waste time on petty revenge schemes.

Bravo, on the other hand, stands to gain absolutely nothing from this except the satisfaction of knowing Tango is suffering. How strange, that the only player to ever really demonstrate that desire isn’t even from Hels.

And with that thought, everything falls into place.

Tango wheezes out a laugh, though he immediately regrets it- fuck, his ribs. “So that’s where I get my sadism from! Good to know, good to know.”

The smirk drops off Bravo’s face. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

Tango wipes the blood from his face. “I mean, I- we- we’ve established that I’m just a uh, a physical manifestation of all the evil parts of you, yeah? That’s what Hels are? Well, if that’s true, then every bad thing about me is somethin’ I got from you.” He grins, despite the pain of his split lip. “Can’t pour from an empty bottle, right?”

Bravo balks at him. “No, that’s not- it’s different,” he argues. “It’s- this is justified, you took everything from me-”

“So now you’re gonna do the same?” Tango raises his eyebrows. Bracing a hand against the wall, he slowly rises to his feet. “Funny, I- I thought that you were supposed to be a better person than me.”

“I am!” Bravo insists angrily.

Tango shrugs. “Well, you sure ain’t actin’ like it, skippy.”

That seems to take Bravo aback. “I- I don’t-” He rakes a hand through his hair, his breathing quickening. “It’s- it’s you, it’s this fucking place, it’s- I don’t know, it’s every-fucking-thing that’s happened in the last ten years! I- I didn’t deserve this, I didn’t do anything to deserve getting sent here!”

“Hold on, what makes you think I did anything to deserve gettin’ sent here?” Tango asks, genuinely curious. “I was spawned here as a child, I mean, what- what could a child possibly do to ‘deserve’ spawning here? What could any of us have done to deserve this?”

Ooh, Bravo doesn’t like that question. “I don’t know,” he splutters, “I didn’t make you spawn here! That was the universe, it- it must know that you- all you Hels- you’re just destined to be bad.”

Tango tilts his head. “Yeah? If that’s the case, then uh, why did the universe send you here?”

Bravo makes a sound like he’s been punched. “What?”

“I didn’t make that portal. You didn’t make that portal. We all know that the universe makes portals to Hermitcraft so why-”

“Stop it! It was a mistake! A glitch! I- I was never meant to come to Hels, you-”

“Then how has every other Hermit joined without having the same problem? Huh? Why you? Why us?”

“Shut up!” Bravo cries, almost desperate. “I’m the one in the right, here!”

“Says who?” Tango asks.

“I just- I have to be in the right!” Bravo protests, throwing an arm out. “I- I’m not like you, I’m not a Hels, I’m supposed to be the good one. If I’m mad, if I wanna hurt someone, it has to be justified, ‘cause I’m not- I’m not cruel.”

Tango just looks at him.

Bravo seems to recognize the irony in his words. It hits him almost like a physical attack; he staggers, eyes widening, face twisting with rage. “Don’t you dare fucking judge me!” he shouts as he raises his sword accusingly at Tango, voice echoing off the cavern walls. “I’m just- I did what I had to do to survive, and- and it ruined me. This world ruined me, and it’s all your fault, you bastard!”

They’re hollow accusations, built from hurt and deflected blame. But it doesn’t occur to Tango to defend himself against them. He couldn’t if he wanted to; all he can do is watch Bravo in stunned silence.

Even without the ability to set himself ablaze, Bravo’s rage is a terrible thing to behold. Tears stream down his reddened face; a mixture of fury and despair, raw and ugly. “It’s not fair!” he wails, almost a breathless scream. “Why did you get to be saved? Why did I have to take your place? What- what did I do?”

He takes another step closer, drawing his sword back, and Tango is suddenly struck by the very real possibility that Bravo is about to kill him.

“You did this to me!” Bravo snarls, wild-eyed and heaving for breath. “You and e- everyone else in th- this fucking hellscape, you- you did this, you-!” 

Bravo lifts his sword for the killing blow-

And then he pauses. He stares at Tango, and Tango stares back.

“... fuck. What am I doing?”

Bravo stumbles back from Tango, lowering his sword. He clutches his head with his free hand, a few stray tears streaking down his face as he struggles to control his breathing. His anger seems to have extinguished, finally letting the pain seep through- an expression that Tango knows as intimately as his own reflection.

Tango blinks. 

It’s a complicated rush of emotions. Bravo represents the worst part of Tango’s life coming back to haunt him; his skeleton in the closet. Fueled by prejudice and misplaced blame, he fought tooth and nail to destroy the life Tango had built for himself, brought pain and hardship to a world of strangers who’d done nothing to deserve it. He made a deal with a devil to get what he wanted and didn’t care who got caught up in the crossfire. Most of all, despite having a viable way to escape Hels peacefully, he doggedly pursued revenge out of nothing but spite and a twisted sense of justice.

Logically, Tango should hate Bravo as much as Bravo hates him.

But for the first time, Tango tries to imagine what it must’ve been like to be trapped in Hels for ten years and not knowing why.

What Bravo went through is exactly what Tango’s always feared since he escaped; that one day his luck would run out, and he’d lose everything. His peaceful life in the overworld. His freedom. His friends, and the love he found with Jimmy- maybe Bravo had people he cared about before, too. Worst of all, Bravo had already experienced the wonders of the wider universe before having it abruptly taken from him.

Tango had been spawned into cruelty and suffering. He hadn’t known anything different, hadn’t known there was anything beyond Hels that he was missing out on. But Bravo did. Bravo knew what it was to travel between worlds, to explore untainted horizons, to live under the warmth of the sun. He knew cooperation and goodwill between players, the comfort and safety of solo worlds. And then suddenly, he’d been deprived of it all, with no way of knowing if he’d ever get it back.

So if Atlas told him that it wasn’t his fault, that he could blame it all on some mysterious, evil doppelgänger… Tango understands why he’d cling to the notion so fiercely.

It’s an easy thing to blame someone else. Accepting that Tango isn’t to blame for what he’s become means accepting that maybe his understanding of Hels players is flawed, and that he might not have been as good of a player as he thought to begin with. Accepting that Tango wasn’t to blame for stranding him in Hels in the first place would mean accepting that maybe… there wasn’t a reason at all. And that kind of acceptance is paramount to altering his entire worldview.

Tango’s been through that himself, once. It wasn’t a fun process. So right now, watching Bravo fall apart in front of him, he finds that all he can feel is sympathy.

So Tango summons enough strength to step forward and wrap Bravo in a hug.

Bravo recoils at first; the kind of instinctive flinch that Tango knows all too well. A noise catches in his throat- part alarm, part disgust. “What’re you-” He tries to push away, but Tango holds fast.

“I’m sorry,” Tango whispers. “You didn’t deserve it.”

Bravo freezes. 

The air is still and silent around them, filled with nothing but the faint flickering of torches and Bravo’s shrill breathing. He’s as rigid as stone in Tango’s embrace- his muscles are so tense, it feels like they’re going to snap. After a few moments, he inhales sharply, and Tango is almost certain he’s about to receive a sword in the gut but he doesn’t let go, because he remembers what it’s like to live in this world and if he can’t even show his own doppelgänger kindness then he really hasn’t learned anything at all-

The sword clatters to the ground. And Bravo breaks.

He folds into the embrace and begins to sob. He sobs hard, shaking and gasping for breath in between, clinging to Tango like his life depends on it. Tears quickly dampen the collar of Tango’s shirt. It’s different from his earlier furious cries- this is absolute devastation, heart-wrenching and all-consuming. It’s a flood ten years in the making, finally spilling over all the careful walls that Bravo’s built around himself. And now that it’s here, there’s no stopping it.

Tango doesn’t speak. He simply eases them down to sit on the floor- he can’t support both his and Bravo’s weight right now. Bravo practically collapses, body limp, legs curled awkwardly beneath him but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. He sags against Tango and cries, and Tango lets him.

It’s slightly bizarre, holding his doppelgänger while he cries. Especially when he was attacking Tango not even two minutes ago. In many ways, it’s a disturbing echo of his own past breakdowns- he can hear himself so clearly in Bravo’s voice, the raw ache of it.

But he’s glad for it. New growth can only happen once the old is torn down. It’s a messy, unpleasant process. It won’t be quick or easy. Bravo has only just taken the first step- he’s still got a long, difficult journey ahead of him. But Tango knows how beautiful it’ll be, to come out through the other side.

And he thinks maybe he needed this, too.

Tango isn’t sure how much time they spend like that. Only when Bravo has finally grown silent, just the occasional sniffle or shaky breath, does Tango sit back enough to meet Bravo’s teary gaze.

“And neither did I,” he continues quietly. “And neither did anyone else who’s ever spawned here, that- that’s the point.”

Bravo sniffs, wiping his face on his sleeve. “But… the universe has to spawn you here for a reason,” he insists, his voice small and confused. Like a child.

Tango’s mildly surprised to find he feels no anger- just pity. “Maybe the universe is wrong.”

Distress flashes across Bravo’s face; clearly, he’s never considered that before. He pulls away from Tango but he doesn’t go far, tucking his knees to his chest. “So then... all this pain, all this struggle... was for nothing,” he says miserably. “Everything I went through... a- and everything I did... I- I was so sure there had to be a reason, that I was different from the players here, that I didn’t belong here. But I- I’m fucked up. I used to be a nice person, but…”

“Nice isn’t the same thing as good,” Tango says simply. “And I would know.”

Bravo swallows. “… how did you do it?” he asks hoarsely. “You’re a Hels, why… how come this world didn’t ruin you, too? How did you end up being the good one?”

It’s an exceedingly vulnerable question, without a hint of reproach. Tango hums, leaning back on his arms. “Y’know, I spent a long time in this world. I- I grew up where it’s kill or be killed, murder first ask questions later, everyone’ll sell you out for a piece of rotten flesh. That was just normal. That was expected. If you’d known me back then, I- I would’ve been no different from any other Hels. I set horrible traps for fun. I cost random players, people I didn’t even know, their resources and their lives in an already harsh world, I mean- it wasn’t pretty. But I was a kid.” He glances sidelong at Bravo. “I was just a teenager when Atlas took me in, did you- did he ever tell you that?” 

Bravo’s surprised expression is all the answer Tango needs.

“Nah, I guess he wouldn’t,” Tango sighs ruefully. “But the first person I thought was different- the first person who I thought saw more in me than the capacity for chaos, who offered me a home, a sense of belonging, a purpose... it turned out to be a trick. All of it, a lie. Just to get me into a horrible farm for the rest of my life, suffering constant withering and being harvested for my resources, like- like I was nothin’ more than a mob.” He gives Bravo a half-hearted grin. “You’d think that’d seal it, right? Like, that would just totally destroy any remaining faith I had in playerkind. And uh, it came pretty close, actually. But then I got out.”

He tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “The universe created a portal, and I escaped to a world where players were kind. And generous, and… gave you the benefit of the doubt. They didn’t assume the worst, they didn’t judge you based on what you looked like. It was… completely foreign. I took advantage of it at first, I mean, I- I was a total jerk. I’m just lucky they thought it was all in good fun, jokes and pranks and stuff- or, or uh, maybe they did know, and still chose to show me grace, I dunno. What I do know is that after enough time had passed… I changed. My wants, my goals, my- my entire outlook on life changed. Suddenly I wanted to be good, I- I tried so hard to be good. And that only happened ‘cause I got the chance.” 

He meets Bravo’s gaze, raising his eyebrows. “And- and I was an adult at that point, I’d grown up in Hels. I mean, imagine what I might’ve been like if I’d spawned on a normal world, grown up in the normal way. Hell, imagine if any other Hels kid got that chance. Maybe there wouldn’t be so many differences between us. Like, maybe even someone like Atlas could’ve been better.” He shrugs. “And maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he always would’ve grown up to be an asshole. Either way, there’s no way of knowing if they never have the chance.”

Bravo looks pensive, his brows knitted together. “I guess I… never thought of that.”

Tango dares to reach out and put a hand on Bravo’s arm. “I’m sorry you got sent here. If I’d known about it when it happened... well, I- I probably still wouldn’t have said anything, if I’m honest,” he admits. “Like you said, I did what I had to do to survive. But I’m sorry for what you went through, and for what my role in that was. If I’d been brave enough to speak up, maybe we could’a helped you sooner, I dunno.” 

Bravo glances away. “I… understand,” he says haltingly. “It, uh… it doesn’t excuse the way I’ve been actin’, so. You know.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “For what it’s worth, I- I don’t think ‘being good’ is somethin’ that’s like… intrinsically handed to us, just by virtue of where we spawn. I think good is a choice that we make, every second of every day of our lives. And y’know, deciding not to choose good in one moment doesn’t mean we can never choose good again.” He huffs a soft laugh. “I mean, if you ask me, that’s way more important than the world we spawn in.”

Bravo looks at him for a moment. His expression is impossible to read. Then determination settles over him, his eyes hardening, before he abruptly gets to his feet. Without a word, he marches over to one of the chests on the floor and rummages through it. Before Tango can say anything, Bravo pulls out an item and tosses it over to him.

Tango catches it, mostly on reflex; it’s a potion of instant health.

“You take that,” Bravo says briskly, stooping over to pick his sword off the ground, “while I go help Jimmy out of there.”

Then he jumps into the pit, slashing through cobwebs on his way down.

Tango blinks. Well, then. Guess that’s decided. He downs the potion quickly, grimacing at the sweet aftertaste of glistering melon, and rises to his feet. It hasn’t fully restored him, but it’s taken the edge off his fresh injuries and given him enough strength to be a functional player again, and he’s quite satisfied with that for now.

Putting away the empty bottle, he wanders over to the edge of the pit, catching the tail end of Jimmy snapping at Bravo as he approaches.

“- where you’re swingin’ that thing!”

“I’m tryin’ to help! Just hold still-”

“Don’t you tell me to- ouch!”

“You’re makin’ it worse! Hang on…”

Tango’s only just leaned over to look when Jimmy flies out of the pit. His wings are ruffled and there are a few places where it’s obvious that some feathers were pulled out, a few stray bits of cobweb still clinging here and there. But aside from the scrapes and bruises he received during their fight with Bravo, he looks none the worse for wear. He’s been gracious enough to carry Bravo out with him, though he’s quick to dump Bravo back on the ground once they’re clear of the pit.

“Tango!” Jimmy swoops over and nearly knocks Tango over, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Oh my gosh, I- I was so worried, are you alright?”

Despite the ache in his bones, Tango hugs him back just as fiercely. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alright, hun,” he reassures Jimmy, voice muffled in the crook of his shoulder.

Right now, he wants nothing more than to curl up in Jimmy’s embrace and fall asleep. Between the fight and his unexpected heart-to-heart with Bravo, he’s physically and emotionally worn out. But even though the immediate threat has been nullified, he knows they aren’t done yet.

Tango pulls back just enough to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “I’m sorry for all this,” he murmurs, reaching a hand up to cup Jimmy’s face. “I thought… if I came here by myself, I’d be protecting you- protecting everyone- from suffering the consequences of my mistake.”

Jimmy covers Tango’s hand with his own. “Did you… did you come here with the intent of givin’ yourself up?” he asks quietly.

Tango winces. “Well, I didn’t- that wasn’t my main goal, no, but uh- I- I knew it was a possibility,” he confesses. “I mean, ideally I would’ve patched things up with Bravo and- and somehow gotten the key from Atlas on my own, but… I was prepared to fail, yeah. I’d accepted it.”

Jimmy looks sad, but not surprised. “Y’know,” he starts softly, “you- you always talk about, uh… not wantin’ to hurt us, not wantin’ us to suffer for your mistakes. But I don’t think you realize that for us, the thought of losin’ you is far worse than whatever else might happen. I mean, I- I’d go through that battle with Hels Tek a hundred times over if it meant not losin’ you. And I know the others feel the same way.”

“Oh.” Tango’s throat tightens. “I… hadn’t thought of that.”

“I know.” A bittersweet smile spreads across Jimmy’s face. “I know it’s hard for you to believe sometimes, alright, but you- we’re rather fond of you, mate. So, um… d’you think you could give the self-sacrificial nonsense a rest?”

Despite everything, Tango feels himself grin. “I can try, yeah,” he says, leaning up to give Jimmy a kiss.

(On the inside, Tango is still terrified at how this might turn out. Hels is a dangerous world, and tangling with Atlas and the rest of Hels Tek is no small order. A horrible painful death is the least of his concerns- if Jimmy or any of the other Double Lifers ended up in a farm, Tango would never forgive himself.

But if today taught him anything, it’s that the people he cares about are just as stubborn as he is. No matter what he says or does, they’re going to be determined to help him, because that’s just the kind of players they are. And he could continue to try and fight it, to try and go it alone, but he’s sure they’ll still somehow put themselves in harm’s way.

So rather than fight it, maybe he can accept that they’re able to make their own decisions and take their own risks. And that working with them, rather than against them, might give them all the best chance of having a favorable outcome. They’ll certainly have an easier time dealing with Atlas if they don’t have to worry about Tango pulling another dirty, reckless move like this.)

Behind them, Bravo coughs into his fist. “Uh, hey, are you two done…?”

Jimmy breaks away with a huff of annoyance. “What?” he demands, keeping an arm around Tango’s waist.

“Just thinkin’ out loud here,” Bravo says, holding his hands up, “but uh, you- there’s no way you two are gonna be able to take on Hels Tek alone. I mean, you’ve already lost the element of surprise, I- he’s probably noticed your arrival in chat by now. And Hels Tek is several days away on foot, how- what, are you just- are you just gonna walk there? You’d barely make it a hundred blocks before gettin’ killed, what with your abysmal PVP skills.”

Jimmy scowls at the slight against them, but Tango frowns. “You’re right,” he amends. “I uh, I honestly didn’t have much of a plan besides ‘winging it’ when I came through, I- I was on a bit of a time crunch.”

“So what do you propose we do?” Jimmy asks Bravo pointedly.

Bravo rolls his eyes. “I mean, I just wanna get the fuck out of here. But if you guys are tryin’ to get the key to that collar skadoodler from Atlas, you’re gonna need help.”

“From you?” Jimmy’s distrust is evident in his voice. “Why?”

Bravo crosses his arms, shoulders hunched defensively. “I dunno, I- maybe I feel bad about the part I played in all this and feel like I owe you guys one?”

Jimmy scoffs. “Doubtful.”

Bravo opens his mouth to retort, but Tango intervenes. “Hey, I know you probably couldn’t hear everything from the bottom of that pit,” he tells Jimmy, “but uh, I- I really think we’ve worked it out, now.” He glances over at Bravo, smiling. “I think we can trust him.”

Shock flares in Bravo’s eyes, his expression sobering. He gives a slight nod.

Jimmy purses his lips. “Fine, but I still don’t like it-”

Ca-clunk.

Pistons activate, making all three of them whirl around to face the wall. Tango’s mind is already racing through the different possibilities- maybe Bravo was actually just stalling until backup came, or maybe Atlas was able to track them down on his own, or maybe it’s even a completely random player who stumbled across the base- but that all comes screeching to a halt as soon as he sees the player who steps out into the room.

Because that’s Jimmy.

Or- well- not exactly. It’s obviously not Jimmy because he’s still standing next to Tango. But it’s immediately apparent that, despite the several major differences between them, this is Jimmy’s doppelgänger, his Hels counterpart.

It seems impossible. Or at least, highly improbable, that Jimmy’s doppelgänger would be here, of all places, and now, of all times, when Hels is a massive, infinite world full of nearly infinite players.

But there’s no one else he could be.

“Bravo!” the player calls in Jimmy’s voice. “Did you- oh.” He draws up short when he sees them, seeming just as thrown by this turn of events as they are.

The first thing that jumps out at Tango is how skinny the player is. He’s practically emaciated; despite his tall frame, his limbs are no thicker than Tango’s, his big, watery eyes sunken into a hollow face- a face that, aside from the lack of a crooked nose, is almost identical to Jimmy’s. The large wings that trail behind him are black in color and poorly kept. He’s a lot paler than Jimmy is, too, almost a sickly sort of complexion. His ratty hair is a dull black, and- based on the sharp angles of the ends- was cut short very recently. 

Now Tango knows how Jimmy must’ve been feeling this whole time. It’s fucking weird.

Beside him, Jimmy’s breath catches. He takes a single, tentative step forward- though Tango is quick to throw an arm out in front of him. The player doesn’t look very threatening. He’s barefoot and dressed in rags, carrying no weapon or armor. But Tango’s still on guard. This is an unknown Hels player, after all.

The player stares at Jimmy, entranced. “Oh,” he breathes, a trembling hand coming up to tug on a strand of hair. A jumble of emotions flash across his face, too fast to read. “I see… you must be Jimmy.”

“And you’re Timmy,” Jimmy says softly, dawning realization settling over his features. “Aren’t you? Gosh…”

Tango recognizes the tone of their voices; they’re experiencing the same strange sensation he did, the first time he laid eyes on Bravo. That abrupt and absolute recognition of the self in the other. Despite meeting for the first time, there hadn’t been a doubt in Tango’s mind that Bravo was his doppelgänger. He’d known it as surely as his own name. It was something instinctual, almost primal- grounding and disorienting all at once.

Timmy. That’s the nickname that Grian and some of the other guys call Jimmy. A practical joke played on them by the universe, no doubt, to have spawned with the names they did.

Bravo finally unfreezes. “Timmy! I told you to wait for me to come get you!” he hisses, but Tango can see the guilt and shame on his face. 

“Sorry…” Timmy murmurs distantly, still fixated on Jimmy. “I was just… gosh, I- everythin’ makes sense now…” He finally turns to look at Bravo, and the faint, knowing smile on his face is devastatingly sad. “I… get why I wasn’t good enough.”

Bravo flinches. “No, no I- I didn’t mean-”

“Ey,” Jimmy cuts in, voice gentle but firm as he moves past Tango to approach Timmy. “C’mere, mate, it’s alright. Ignore him a second, hey?” He fans out a wing to block Bravo from view, nonverbally conveying that he’d like a private moment with his doppelgänger.

“Yeah, come on.” Tango takes the cue to grab Bravo by the arm, leading him to the other side of the room. “You- you wanna explain him?” he asks lowly, putting his hands on his hips. “I mean, how- where did you even find him?”

Bravo exhales heavily. “At spawn. Actually, I- we met the first time I ended up at world spawn, all those years ago. Go figure. He- he’d been livin’ there for god knows how long, just… starving to death, over and over again, ‘cause he was too scared to leave.”

Damn.

“Huh.” Tango nods slowly. “So… what were you sayin’ about all Hels being evil monsters…?”

Bravo tenses. “Shut up. He’s different.” He glances over his shoulder at the pair of avians. “I… after I was killed on your world, and- and escaped from Hels Tek, I ended up at spawn. He was still there, and this time… he agreed to come with me, so he could leave Hels with me once I got my portal working.”

“Mhmm.” Tango’s voice is terse, even to his own ears. “You, uh... didn’t happen to keep him around just ‘cause he’s my soulmate’s doppelgänger, did you?”

Bravo winces. “... maybe at first,” he admits. “But then- I dunno, I- I didn’t- things changed, alright?”

Tango folds his arms. “That’s pretty fucked up, to use him as a- a replacement Jimmy.”

“I know, okay?” Bravo hisses, but it’s lacking its usual venom. “I- I’ve had a lotta realizations in the last few minutes, alright? Gimme a break.”

Tango snorts but says nothing else, looking over to check on Jimmy.

He’s speaking to Timmy in low tones, eyes shining with concern. His demeanor is reserved, gentle, nonthreatening- he’s matching Timmy’s curled-in posture, just with less of the anxiety, more reassuring. And it seems to be working; even from this distance, it’s apparent Timmy’s slowly growing more comfortable, less afraid.

Sudden warmth swells in Tango’s chest. It’s overwhelming, meeting your doppelgänger, but Jimmy’s put all those complicated feelings aside to help a player who seems to sorely need it. His experience with Hels players thus far has been nothing but flat-out terrible, and yet it didn’t even occur to him to be wary of Timmy. Some might view that as foolish naivety or ignorance, maybe even stupidity. But to Tango, it’s a testament to Jimmy’s incredible kindness.

He couldn’t be more proud of his soulmate.

Eventually, Jimmy waves them over. “Hey, so uh, you got somethin’ to say to Timmy?” he asks Bravo, one hand resting protectively on Timmy’s bony shoulder.

Taken back, Bravo looks at Tango, who simply raises an eyebrow.

Bravo swallows. “Look,” he starts hesitantly, “I- I uh, I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you, alright? It… wasn’t fair for me to compare you to Jimmy.”

Timmy’s avoiding his gaze, fidgeting with his hands, but there’s a hopeful light in his eyes. “Thanks,” he says softly.

Satisfied for the moment, Jimmy turns to Tango. “We can’t leave him here,” he says, completely resolute. “I- I think we should head back through the portal for now, regroup with the others and come up with a- with an actual plan? So long as we don’t break the portal, we’ll still be able to come back through. Even if he,” he nods at Bravo, “is with us.”

Tango rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Right, right, yeah. I’m- the others are bound to notice we’re gone soon, so we should probably-”

“Oh!” Timmy gasps suddenly, smacking his forehead. “The others, right! Right, sorry, I uh- the reason I came to find you, Bravo, is that a- a whole buncha players just joined the world.” He cringes, apologetic. “I- I think it’s those guys you were tellin’ me about.”

“What?!” Bravo demands, sounding alarmed.

Tango whips out his communicator, eyes widening at the chat. 

The entire Double Life server has joined Hels. Which means they’re probably up by the portal right now, wandering around and looking for him in a dangerous world they’re entirely unfamiliar with, full of hostile mobs, hidden traps, and certain ruthless scientists who’d love to add a few hybrids to their collection.

Shit.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player types furiously on a communicator.

“No,” Atlas calls over his shoulder distractedly, “they won’t be at world spawn. Get me the last coordinates searched by Alisker’s mercenaries, we’ll start from there.”

“Yes, sir,” the scientist says quickly before rushing off.

It’s only been a few minutes since Atlas was alerted to Tango’s arrival in chat- him and one other player. The avian, he thinks. Obviously, this development necessitated that they drop everything and immediately pivot towards an effort to recapture Tango. Amidst giving orders to prepare the flying machines and gather weapons and armor, he’s been frantically trying to reach Alisker via whispers- without looking like he’s too desperate, of course, but he knows that having Alisker’s support in this endeavor will be critical to its success.

All the while, part of his mind is dedicated to puzzling out Tango’s motive.

He had a feeling they’d return to Hels eventually, to try and get the key for Tango’s collar from him. No doubt Tango’s finding its properties rather disruptive to normal life. The only question was whether or not Alisker’s mercenaries would find Bravo before then, allowing them to open a new portal and strike first. The latter option would’ve certainly been ideal, but ultimately, it doesn’t matter. He’s confident they’ll succeed this way, too.

(Failure isn’t an option. Not again.)

What’s most confusing, however, is that Tango seems to have come without any real backup. The other players from his world were quite formidable as a group; Tango must know that leaving them behind will considerably lower his chances of success. So perhaps he doesn’t intend to confront Atlas at all, and is simply content to live with the collar. After all, he’s still wearing the cuffs, all these years later.

The only way to open a portal to Hels- that they know of, at least- is by using a player’s data to lock onto their counterpart’s coordinates. So Tango must’ve opened a portal to Bravo. Perhaps that’s all his goal is- an attempt to make amends with his doppelgänger and provide an escape from Hels. If that’s the case, then they’re working with a limited time frame.

Because if Bravo leaves Hels with Tango, then Atlas is truly out of viable options. All he’ll be able to do is open random portals to any of Hels Tek’s counterparts in the overworld, giving them access to random worlds that Tango is highly unlikely to inhabit. That won’t satisfy Alisker, and Atlas is already on thin ice as it is. No, they need to move now if they have any chance of-

Chat is suddenly jumping with join messages, and some very familiar usernames.

Ah, there’s the rest of them.

Atlas’s runaway train of thought screeches to a halt. If the other members of that world are here now, then it seems like they’ll be going for the key, after all. Which means he can breathe again. They’ve got a difficult conflict ahead of them, sure, but he rather likes their chances here in Hels. And he’s got a much better idea of what they’re up against this time- they won’t be defeated again so easily.

Oh, and Alisker’s finally returned his message. Yes, things are shaping up quite nicely, indeed.

Atlas quickly makes the arrangements, rising from his chair and heading out of his office. The halls of Hels Tek are bustling with activity as everyone scrambles to get ready. Anticipation bubbles in Atlas’s chest. This is his last chance to be victorious; he won’t rest until Tango is locked back in that farm. And, if he plays this right, he’ll have several new additions to his hybrid-farming initiative as well. Already his mind is racing with ideas..

The minutes pass in a blur. Atlas is standing before the flying machines and barking orders, his voice echoing off the garage’s high ceiling, when his communicator beeps again. He glances down, expecting to see another message from Alisker, and draws up short.

Grian tried to swim in lava.

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Smajor1995 tried to swim in lava. 

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Smallishbeans tried to swim in lava.

GoodTimeWithScar tried to swim in lava.

BdoubleO100 tried to swim in lava.

Renthedog tried to swim in lava.

Atlas blinks in surprise. The messages are almost simultaneous; a massive die-off like this can’t be anything other than a trap. How curious...  he knows Bravo is rather fond of setting traps, as Alisker’s mercenaries have discovered firsthand. And if the portal they came through was spawned near Bravo’s location… perhaps this was accidental friendly fire?

Another message flashes.

SolidarityGaming was slain by Bravo.

Oh. Nevermind.

Atlas watches chat with bated breath. It hasn’t escaped his notice that, as of right now, Tango is still alive. And if his hunch is correct…

<Bravo whispered to you> hey. I’ve got an offer for you.

Atlas grins.

~*~

[tumbleweed-run]

PLEASE, I beg of you, I crave a story that plays after Gale had the conversation in Act 2 with Tav of him beeing wooed seing her in battle. It was the moment the Wizardman owned me...

“But standing by your side through such darkness and disrepair, it only makes me want you more.”

You blink slowly, your brain still catching up with everything that has just happened. As Gale’s words sink in he’s already turned to other matters and you groan inwardly at your delay. The others, at least, have the decency to pretend they hadn’t heard anything you two had said. And if they make themselves a little more scarce after speaking to Jaheira once again, you’re all the more grateful for it. 

You make up your mind and grab Gale’s arm, all but dragging him into an occupied room. He’s opened his mouth, no doubt to question your manhandling of him, but you silence him quickly by smashing your mouth against his. He immediately melts against you. 

This kiss is more than anything you’ve shared this far. You both have been so wary of setting off the damned orb that you’ve done little more than small pecks and holding hands at camp. This is tongues dancing, hands grasping for any place to hold. You can still smell the aftermath of the previous fight, feel it as Gale unknowingly bumps against bruises. For the most part, he thankfully seems unharmed - the benefits of being a wizard. 

The heat that had pooled between your thighs is now a raging inferno, and you can feel Gale is very much in the same state. But even as you reach for his robes he stops you, hand grasping your wrist gently. 

“Not here,” he pants, lips having barely moved from yours to speak. 

A frustrated noise escapes your lips, “you can’t just say those things,” you grouse at him, trying to wiggle your hand free. 

He chuckles, the sound rumbling across your cheek. 

“The first time we make love,” Gale says confidently as if he can’t imagine a world where this isn’t love, “we will do it properly. You deserve it done right.”

“Gale,” you plead, but it's halfhearted. You can tell he won't relent from this. 

“I will not leave you in such a state, though,” Gale promises, a mischievous look on his face, “It would not go well for us if you’re unfocused.”

He guides you backward until you bump against a table. You grab at it to keep it from toppling over, and as you do, Gale takes advantage of your distraction and quickly undoes your pants. He’s got them down to your knees by the time your brain catches up to what he’s doing. He follows them down, sinking to his own knees before you. 

“Gale,” you gasp at the sight. You’re armor is still on, still covered in blood and dirt from the battle, but Gale kneels before you, looking untouched and nearly perfect. It only adds fuel to the flames of your desires for him. 

His only response is to lean forward and press a kiss against the mound of your cunt, just for a moment, before slipping his tongue between your folds. You quickly rip your glove from your hand, tossing it off to the side, and then thread your hand into his hair. The first few passes of his tongue between your legs feel like an experiment, slow and calculating. You swear you can feel him smirk against your skin when a pass over your clit makes you jump and swear. 

He’s significantly less restrained after that, all but burying his face between your folds. The sounds he’s making cause your knees to buckle. Suddenly, you’re relying on the table to keep you up. He’s so loud and eager you swear the rest of the inn should be able to hear the two of you. The thought heats your face even as your head falls back and you spread your thighs as far as your pants will allow.

A finger slides inside of you, joining quickly into the rhythm his tongue has found, and then another. You’re moaning freely, fingers gripping the table so tightly you’ll be surprised if there aren’t grooves worn into the wood later. Your hips begin moving of their own accord, rolling forward, seeking more. Gale is quick to respond, his tongue now moving expertly against your clit as his fingers fuck deeper inside of you, finding a spot that makes you gasp and stand on tiptoe. 

It doesn’t take long and you come, cry only muffled as you nearly bite through your lip. Your hips don’t stop moving as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you. Gale moans between your legs, tongue and fingers drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible. Only once your knees start to buckle does he stop, withdrawing his fingers from you only to grasp at your bare hips to keep you upright. 

When he stands, you lean forward against him, panting, your body finally coming down from a multitude of sensations. As your head clears you reach forward to attempt to rub his cock with your palm but Gale easily sidesteps you. 

“What about you?” You ask, surprised to hear your voice as level as it is. 

“I am perfectly fine waiting, my love,” Gale says as he presses a soft kiss to your head. 

You flush at the implication that you were unable to control your own lust. A chuckle from above you and another kiss in your hair lets you know Gale might just be able to tell what you’re thinking. 

[surshica]

PINK IS THE NEW RED

: CL16

genre: fluff kinda rushed whatever !

warnings: translated french yeah

A/N: and yes i am talking about singles inferno and the lee nadine. my fav korean-american influencer 🫶 and yeah this kinda has no plot but NADINEEEEE

synopsis: charles is dating someone who was on a love show whom is known for rave parties — charles leclerc x reader (fc: nadine lee)

yn.ln

liked by pierregasly,lewishamilton and 373,252 others

yn.ln day 2 of coachella week 1!! guess what i am~ 🧚‍♀️

user52 still can’t believe you were on singles inferno and nobody picked you..

user69 THATS WHAT IM SAYING!! but from the looks of it singles inferno was like a year and half ago so maybe..

user23 nah impossible the men on there lowkey didn’t even stand a chance, they were kinda bland🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️‼️

liked by yn.ln

— view 628 more replies —

user63 liked by pierregasly? does someone have a crush?

user92 pierre is dating kika!!

user63 okay maybe pierre watched singles inferno?

— view 43 more replies —

lewishamilton much fun can’t wait for day 3!

yn.ln where is roscoe.

lewishamilton he’s at home

yn.ln ditching you for your dog

lewishamilton i’ll buy you food

yn.ln ..i wanna try your vegan snacks sir lewis hamiliton

user51 they’re literally flirting bye. WHEN DID YN GETVINTO F1?;!;?

— view 268 more replies —

user12 liked by pierregasly

liked by pierregasly

— view all comments —

charles_leclerc

liked by yn.ln,pierregasly and 1,569,368 others

charles_leclerc today was fun

tagged pierregasly,joris__trouche,audreyrublev

user34 it’s giving old money

user63 whoever styled charles needs a raise because that whole fit is 🤌

charles_leclerc i’ll make sure to tell her that

user73 HER? WHO IS HER?

pierregasly liked by pierregasly btw!

user52 okay the fact the whole grid was there…didn’t know y’all were tennis lovers too

user92 i love how it’s the whole grid and lewis is at coachella

user108 man has priorities what can i say?

user76 if you could pick from going to a tennis game in monte carlo or coachella what would you pick?

user32 mmm…coachella maybe

yn.ln sweats as professional pants we love to see it!

charles_leclerc designers choice!

yn.ln give me the number of the designer i need her to make my outfits 🤭

charles_leclerc no

yn.ln why you gatekeeping bro.

— view 628 comments —

user19 yn in her influencing arc!!

user43 “liked by yn.ln” DONT DO IT I WAS GATEKEEPING YOU.

— view all comments —

yn.ln

COACHELLA

liked by lewishamilton,charles_leclerc and 374,826 others

yn.ln coachella day 3 🥲 i’m still confused about the frank ocean performance…

tagged fembestie,malebestie

user29 women in stem who can party 😍

user75 RIGHT? like bro was an hour late and dod three performances and called it quits..

yn.ln at least he showed up right?

yn.ln should’ve put xnda up on the stage

lewishamilton okay now you’re setting me up

— view 82 comments —

user15 YOU ATE THAT. coachella? what’s that? i only know yn festival

user57 they should’ve put me on singles inferno i would’ve rizzed you up.

yn.ln my dms are always open🤷‍♀️

pierregasly someone did not like this comment😭..

user82 100-92 =

user54 98?

user42 LORD…YOU DID NOT JUST SAY 98

user92 💀

user12 i love how it’s just shirtless men in the background and yn in pink

francisca.cgomes i should’ve went with..i was over here third wheeling the whole time.

yn.ln i would’ve snuck you in if i knew you would have to deal with…them.

pierregasly NOT LIKED by pierregasly

— view 72 comments —

charles_leclerc pretty in pink 🩷

liked by yn.ln

user61 if these are the coachella fits i want to see the lollapalooza ones..BCCCC inspo~

charles_leclerc this sounds like you are going to the azerbaijani gp 🤔

yn.ln are you going to win?

charles_leclerc maybe you’ll be my lucky charm

yn.ln i’ll meet you there then!

liked by charles_leclerc

user19 DO YALL SEE CHARLES.

user69 bro got noticed by a pretty girl and can’t act properly..

— view all comments —

yn.ln posted a story

yn.ln

liked by lilymhe,fransica.cgomes and 284,739 others

yn.ln he just would not let go of me. no seriously

user59 my gf who doesn’t know is my gf is in a relationship? 🫠

user72 the cat heart necklace imma kms.

user91 now i’m invested into who this guy actually is..

user11 maybe it’s that one guy from the show, the military guy

user40 WAIT theyd be a power couple

lilymhe well tell him to stop being all cuddly we are having a girls night.

yn.ln “he said no and girls night could wait” - C

francisca.cgomes not like his opinion mattered anyways we are still going to steal you

user82 charles is screaming throwing stuff at the wall after seeing this

user99 charles : “hey alexa play that should be me by justin beiber”

lewishamilton i take it you’re here to support mercedes next gp win?

charles_leclerc me when i’m delusional!

maxverstappen1 charles you haven’t even podiumed this year plus we all know yn is here to support me~

charles_leclerc go away you are dating…yk who.😒

liked by yn.ln

mercedesamgf1 can’t wait to see you repping our merch on the paddock!

scuderiaferrari i guess someone didn’t get the memo that yn is a tifosi 💋

— view all comments —

yn.ln

liked by charles_leclerc,scuderiaferrari and 592,825 others

yn.ln pink is the new red ‼️

tagged scuderiaferrari

charles_leclerc wearing an alpines color..

yn.ln pink is just a shade of red charlie

charles_leclerc and you’re supposed to be my lucky charm

yn.ln i will be and forever am

user87 ATE!!

user96 sometimes all ferrari needs is a little pink in their lives~

— view 34 comments —

user63 PURRRR

scuderiaferrari you might need to teach little charlie over here how to dress!

yn.ln oh believe me i know…

lilymhe i love you i love this fit

lissisemackintosh OH MY🤭 listen if he doesn’t go public thenn~

user52 lizzie knows something we don’t..

— view 127 comments —

user01 normalize everyone wearing pink in the paddock.

yn.ln you’re right. @mercedesamgf1 let toto wear pink!

— view 92 comments —

user09 i love how when everyone shows up to the paddock it’s like fancy ass outfits and yn comes in with cargo pants and a white top

user16 she chose comfy not fancy

— view all comments —

charles_leclerc

liked by yn.ln,pierregasly and 2,826,927 others

charles_leclerc P1 !!! what a weekend for the team and for the tifosi! lets keep pushing more like this especially after the disappointing last few races this year! next up miami 🏆

tagged scuderiaferrari

user77 LETS GO HES BACK.

user96 🔥🔥🔥

user43 charles villain arc???

user82 NOWWW. RIGHT NEOWWWW.

user24 you best believe it!!

lewishamilton amazing driving today mate!! 👏👏

yn.ln hot people got first this race

charles_leclerc 🤔

scuderiaferrari and yall said the ferrari curse was real! 🙄

redbullracing because it still is…

scuderiaferrari nuh uh! if you have a problem with it check out cars it’s fine!!

rebullracing really? i have multiple videos of you drivers saying your car sucks.

mercedesamgf1 yoooo…chill🥶

scuderiaferrari get out of here with your long ass name

— view all comments —

yn.ln posted a story

charles_leclerc replied to your story: WELL YOU SEE THE WHOLE SOFT LAUNCH WASNT WORKING ANDD…

charles_leclerc replied to your story: did you at least like the teddy bear?;;

@ surshica | rb & follow.

[gravehags]

his mother's blood

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: EMERITUS FAMILY DRAMAAAAA, tokophobia, revelations, nihil being a fucking shitass, reader being the voice of reason, sister imperator gets a first name and it's exactly what you'd think it is

Words: 2,727

Summary: You know it's just a joke but you can't fight the dread that settles in your stomach the moment the words leave Terzo's mouth.

a/n: this was a lot!!! title comes from the ethel cain lyric "jesus can always reject his father but he cannot escape his mother's blood" :) you know for extra fun family pain

~~~

You feel as if both time and your heart stops the moment the words playfully exit Terzo’s mouth.

So when are you two going to give me a niece or nephew, huh?

The five of you were having a lovely time, sitting around the patio table in the Papas’ courtyard on the early summer evening. The sun had only just started to dip below the horizon and you were already tipsy off the sweet wine Secondo had supplied you with. As soon as Terzo says it you feel the color drain from your face as Copia kneels beside you and reaches for your hand.

“Terzo, don’t–”

You see Primo and Secondo furrow their brows, clearly aware that this is a sensitive topic not to be broached but Terzo doesn’t get the hint and nudges your arm.

“Come on,” he says with a grin, “you’d look so pretty all round and glowing–”

“Silenzio!” Copia shouts as he straightens. You know it’s the liquor that’s making the tears drop one after the other into your lap while your lip quivers and you can’t bring yourself to look at any of them.

“Che cazzo?” Terzo asks, “I’m just poking fun–sorellina, it was just a stupid joke please don’t–”

“You don’t get to joke about that,” Copia says and out of the corner of your eye you see his balled up fist shake, “I don’t want to hear you mention that again ever, do you hear me? I’m not fucking kidding, Terzo Emeritus.”

A stunned silence settles among the brothers while you hastily wipe your tears with the sleeve of your linen button down. You know there’s no way the evening will be recovered after this if you don’t explain why Terzo’s words filled you with such visible dread so you take a deep breath and exhale shakily.

“Do you guys know why Sister Imperator hired me?”

Copia looks down at you, alarmed, and once again kneels by your side.

“Amore, you don’t have to talk about this, it’s none of their business.”

“I know. But I’ve been meaning to ask them for a while…if they knew. If they knew about any of it.”

“Knew about what, fiore?” Primo asks cautiously, steepling his fingers.

“Um…so about…I don’t know a couple, few months back Sister Imperator had me come to her office where she proceeded to tell me that I was hired because–” you take another deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut and then open, “because I was chosen by your Unholy Father…to carry Copia’s child.”

Once again the stunned silence among the five of you is electric. Secondo’s jaw is dropped, Terzo looks horrified, and Primo radiates silent rage.

“What?”

“Y-yeah. She tried to convince me it would be an ‘honor’ despite the fact that I-I told her I don’t want a baby, ever. Tried to tell me I had to do it, that it was my purpose–”

Terzo stands abruptly and the other brothers follow suit. Copia remains squatted next to you holding your hand.

“Guys what are you do–”

“Quella dannata stronza,” Secondo growls, “she’ll pay for this.”

You look around at everyone in a panic.

“No, no, no you can’t let her know that you know a-and she’s backed off on the topic after Copia and I confronted her–”

“Sorellina, we love you, you know that. To know that that woman tried to force a fucking pregnancy on you–unthinkable. She should be excommunicated for even uttering the words to you. Maledetto inferno, this is the last straw.” Terzo grabs your free hand and places a kiss to the back of it. “You do not need to come, bella mia. You do not need to see this. Neither of you do.”

You gently pull your hand from Copia’s and stand, wiping off your cheeks.

“I think I - we - should be there to keep you from…from I don’t know, doing anything you’ll regret. Copia and I have already gotten our piece said with her after she tried to fire me–”

“She what?!” Secondo halfway roars. Primo is already gone down the cloister corridor and the four of you hustle after him. He leads you to an area of the abbey you’ve passed by but never entered which you assume is Sister Imperator’s wing. Primo approaches a door and doesn’t knock, instead flinging it open with such force you wince at the sound of the doorknob denting the drywall. In the large sitting room, in two high backed dark green chairs are Nihil, in his usual vestments and Sister Imperator, who wears a dark red robe snugly cinched around her. Nihil has a deep scowl etched into his wizened features but Sister only looks mildly irritated as if she’s misplaced her phone.

“Gentlemen, what is the meaning of–”

“Stronza!” Primo thunders, and you recoil in shock from the volume of his voice. Copia holds you tightly next to him by your elbow. “How dare you, how fucking dare you attempt to force a child on this girl.”

She looks at you with such raw contempt it makes your stomach roil with nausea.

“Really?” she asks, addressing you and Copia, “The two of you couldn’t keep this to yourselves?”

“The fact that they didn’t tell us sooner is a blessing to you,” Secondo snarls, stepping in front of you and Copia and breaking her line of sight. “I would have killed you myself if–”

“Silence, boy,” Nihil barks from his chair, “and remember to whom you are speaking.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, old man,” Secondo hisses, his eyes burning, “but since you insist on inserting yourself, how could you fucking agree to this?”

Nihil scoffs.

“Don’t be stupid, this was the will of the Council. Sister was simply enforcing their decision. And she was right to do so, it is an honor. One clearly unworthy of this–”

“Be very careful about the next words that leave your mouth, Nihil,” Copia says softly and for the first time in the year of knowing him you feel a horrible thrill at the idea of what he would do for you. Everyone falls silent.

“The Council knew?” Secondo says, clearly floored by this information, “Psaltarian would never have agreed to this, let alone the Director…something that is such a clear violation of the tenets of our religion?”

“Why?” Terzo interjects quietly, “Why was it so important that Copia of all people have a child?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Sister Imperator says, idly studying her fingernails. You feel Copia squeeze your arms as he holds you tighter to him. Secondo and Terzo glance at one another, clearly puzzled. Primo turns to look at you both, apologetic.

“The Antichrist need not have a bloodline,” he says softly and Copia inhales sharply next to you. You see Terzo’s jaw drop and the color drain from Secondo’s face. 

“You knew?” When Copia speaks, his voice makes you jump. “You–you knew?”

The mounting anger in his tone has you panicking, turning to him to console him but he’s staring Primo down with such fury it makes you shy away from him. At once, Secondo is at his side gripping his bicep as Terzo gently extricates you from Copia’s ever tightening grip.

“Copia, I always suspected but��”

“You fucking raised me!” Copia shouts, and the raw betrayal cracking his voice instantly makes tears spring to your eyes. You try to go to Copia’s side to comfort him but Terzo holds you snug against him with a strength you did not expect. “You were more of a father to me than this pezzo di merda–” he gestures sharply to Nihil, whose mouth is pulled in a severe frown but blessedly stays silent, “a-and you just let me grow up thinking I was some kind of freak? With no explanation?”

“Topolino, you–”

“Don’t fucking ‘topolino’ me, Primo.”

“Copia,” Primo says, softly but with great power, “I only ever had suspicions. It was bad enough that I - that any of us - couldn’t officially acknowledge you as our brother, how could I hoist this burden upon you as well? If it were true, I knew that in time you would come to realize it…I just never expected the knowledge to be wielded like a weapon by someone so vile–”

“By his mother,” Sister Imperator says, her voice loud and clear. The brothers turn to look at her, stunned, then look to Nihil.

“Even more unconscionable,” Primo says after a moment, his voice low. “To not only place disgusting expectations on the woman he loves but to expect him to blindly go along with it…where were you when he had doubts as a child? When he cried at night from his bad dreams? When we celebrated every birthday, just the four of us, convinced that Copia’s mother was dead just like the rest of ours? We expected the worst from him–” Primo jerks his head towards Nihil, “--but how dare you try to step in now forty-nine years after abandoning him, pretending to give a shit about him or his purpose. Shame on you, Mary.”

Everyone in the room inhales sharply and you’re shocked at the reveal of her true name. You expect her to look infuriated but when you glance at her all you see on her handsome face is exhaustion. You remember her words in her office about how Copia was taken from her as a baby and you’re filled with sickening remorse.

“That’s not right,” you say softly, and everyone swivels to you, “s-she didn’t have a choice. The Council insisted she give up all ties to Copia after his birth. She’s been a shitty mom, I’m not arguing that and I’m not defending her…but so much of it wasn’t her choice.”

You extricate yourself from Terzo’s grasp and walk the length of the room to stand by Imperator’s side. The brothers look stunned and Copia gives you a tiny, gentle smile.

“Listen, I didn’t tell you guys about this shit so everyone could fight about it or bring up anything else. I told you because this is a family and I wanted to be on the level with all of you. Because I want to be a part of it. I’m so…tired of the fucking tension between us,” you gesture between you and Sister Imperator, “on the topic. I’m done, I’m over it. It’s not happening and she knows that a-and the Council knows that. Right, Sister?”

You look at the woman next to you, your lips in a taut line, and her gaze softens to something that resembles respect.

“Exactly,” she says, matter-of-factly, “it’s water under the bridge, gentlemen.”

“Enough of this bullshit,” Nihil whines, and everyone jumps after having forgotten that he was even in the room. “Doesn’t anyone care what I have to say?”

You swear in the chorus of “no’s” that echo throughout the room you hear Sister’s voice and you bite your cheek to keep from smiling.

“Are we done here?” she says, straightening her robe, “Because my programs are about to come on and–”

“Yeah, we’re done,” Copia says, and you leave her side to come to his. “Goodnight, Sister. Goodnight, Papa.”

She nods at him with a smile while Nihil waves his hand dismissively, turning from his four sons to continue playing Candy Crush on his phone. Primo, Secondo, Terzo, and Copia all file out of the room but as you’re about to cross the threshold you hear your name being called from behind you. When you turn around, Imperator is smiling at you peculiarly from her chair.

“You continue to surprise me, dear. Well done handling the situation,” she says and you swear she gives you a small wink.

“Yeah uh, you’re welcome for not letting Secondo kill you, I guess,” you say with a nod before exiting and shutting the door behind you. Copia is waiting for you, giving you a look just as peculiar as Sister’s.

“What?” you ask softly, taking his hand.

“Nothing. I just love you, you know?”

He draws you in and you rest your forehead on his shoulder, his hand tenderly cupping your skull. The two of you hold one another for a moment and you both jump when you feel another body and arms enveloping you both.

“I am so sorry, topolino,” Primo murmurs as he strokes Copia’s hair, “and you, fiore mio, you should have never have had to hear any of that bullshit from start to finish.” He turns to place a kiss on the top of your head and suddenly you’re aware of another pair of arms wrapping around your little group. When you lift your head, Terzo grins at you before waving Secondo over.

“Come on you grumpy old fuck,” he says and you hear Secondo scoff.

“I’m only a year older than you, idiota,” he growls, but you feel him join the pod all the same. It takes a bit of straining, but you’re able to look up at Copia, who has his eyes shut as if he’s trying to cement the moment into his memory. It fills you with such affection, not just for your beloved, but for all the men surrounding you, and you sigh.

“Love you guys,” you murmur, and Terzo’s hand comes up to pet your hair.

“And we love you, sorellina.”

“Had you said the word, I would have killed her on the spot with my bare hands,” Secondo says, his voice muffled by Copia’s back. “I’ve been looking for an excuse.”

“That’s…actually really sweet in a fucked up way. Thanks for having my back.”

“Can we leave this hallway before we overhear Sister and Nihil fucking because–”

The five of you separate, everyone either making violent retching noises or groaning.

“That’s my mother, stronzo,” Copia finally says, giving Terzo a dirty look.

“And your father too, unfortunately,” Primo grimaces, leading the group back down the hall, “but at least you have the benefit of being able to claim a different father, topolino. We’re stuck with him.”

You wrap your arm around Copia’s waist as you exit the wing and he wraps his around your shoulder.

“I eh, don’t know about all of you,” your love begins, “but I could use a fucking drink after that. Secondo…?”

“On it,” Secondo says, striding down the hall ahead of you in the direction of the kitchen. Eventually the group makes its way back to the round patio table, and a shiver runs through you.

“Shit, it’s cold now that the sun’s gone down,” you announce, “and if I’m going to keep drinking I need something to eat because I do not want to end the night with Copia holding my hair. Let’s go meet Secondo and see if I can bully him into making me a grilled cheese.”

Primo and Terzo both snort.

“‘Bully him’ as if he wouldn’t bend over backwards for you, piccolina,” Terzo says, imitating his brother’s voice when he says the endearment. You swat at his arm.

“Stai zitto, stronzo,” you snap playfully and Primo and Copia both turn to you looking impressed.

“She’s been doing the eh, Duolingo app,” Copia explains, and you smile at the pride in his voice, “Well done, amore mio.”

“Non è niente di speciale,” you say demurely with a wide grin. Terzo cheers loudly as the four of you enter the kitchen.

“Be quiet, you fucking animal,” Secondo snarls from his place at the stove, where he’s currently pressing a spatula into two pieces of bread between which cheese oozes. Terzo turns to you and winks.

“Told you,” he says with a smirk before heading off in the direction of the wine cellar. Primo shakes his head and takes a seat at the small table in the corner and Copia pulls you into his side to place a wet kiss to your temple.

“Love you, dolcezza,” he murmurs. When his hand drifts to the small of your back you’re reminded of the first time you set foot in this kitchen and the way he comforted you after you burned the bruschetta. You look over at Primo, who yawns wide, then over to Secondo, who is singing under his breath as he flips your sandwich, to Terzo, who bounds into the room with way too much energy and carrying an alarming number of wine bottles. You look over at Copia.

“Ti amo di più.”

[yermes]

How to fix your shit for September 🍁

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Pick a meme

123

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Disclaimer: please take what I say with a grain of salt and not as the gospel. I just want to share some ideas of practicing and giving advice using the medium as often as I can with school, work, and my own personal studies and practice. But I am working on sharing my notes soon so that will be exciting! Liking and sharing does a lot 🥰

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The cards

The Inferno 💥

Self destruction tendencies will eat you alive. Theres nothing wrong with having a standard for yourself. Theres nothing wrong with having big goals, however if you absolutely rip yourself down and make yourself physically ill in the pursuit of perfection theres an issue. You don’t have to be perfect, everyday doesn’t need the perfect amount of productivity. You need to rest or else the fire of desire will eat you alive and you will have nothing physical of yourself to give and it will take the last of you.

The Moon 🌙 

Be idealistic, why can’t you do something? Why do you insist on standing in your own way. If you can think it you can bring it to reality. Study magic, study your courses, set goals and launch your plans into action. Dream big, like dream as big as you wish. Illusion will not eat you whole since you are suspecting of it. The illusion that dreams may offer you might be far fetched… which is why we supplement with actual course of action. Set goals and actually try to move towards it.

Wheel of Fortune 🎱 reversed

If you resist change you will have an awful month. Things are meant to change, nothing is permanent and things are more liquid and fluid than you think. Things are often shifting between phases of life and death and small deaths all the time. If you hang on to the idea that things existing in a fluid state can be permanent you will suffer hella bad luck. You must shift your thinking

Extras:

Story/vent:

Will so something fun on vacation

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Like the slumber that creeps to me

My first fic for @painlandweek has been posted! You can either read the first few scenes below or find the whole thing here on AO3.

Prompt: Sickfic

Length: 13.5K words

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Summary: While on a case, Charles falls victim to a cursed necklace that causes everyone who touches it to sicken and die. While his friends frantically search for a way to break the curse, a weakening Charles has plenty of time to think about his feelings for his best mate.

Excerpt:

“I fear that I will never understand the living,” Edwin says as they climb the seven flights of stairs to their office on the top floor. He hasn’t groused about not being able to mirror travel with Crystal tagging along once, which tells Charles how off-kilter tonight’s case left him. “They hear about Hell, renowned for being the worst place in existence, and they think, ‘perhaps I should create something just like that and keep it in my pantry.’ Honestly.”

“I don’t think you can blame that on the sorcerer being living,” Crystal says acidly. She doesn’t sound even a little out of breath; she’s acclimating to this climb. “You can blame it on him being a toxic douchebag who wanted to punish his enemies so badly he couldn’t wait for Hell to do it.”

“And now he’s a toxic douchebag stuck in a pocket dimension of his own making, isn’t he?” Charles probably should feel a little bad about trapping the sorcerer in the fire and brimstone hellscape in his pantry, but the way he sees it, he was an evil cunt who had it coming. Russell Mathers had been a surprisingly powerful, if self-taught, sorcerer and he’d used all that power to enact revenge on his enemies. Except, he’d had a very loose definition of what made an enemy: his victims ranged from an academic rival to a colleague that had spurned his advances to the twelve-year-old neighbor boy that trod on his lawn one too many times.

It had been the twelve year old’s spirit who had brought them the case, sobbing in their office about having escaped from the fires of Hell. Edwin’s hands shook for the rest of the day and for that alone, Charles couldn’t feel too bad for closing the door to the pocket dimension in Mathers’s smug fucking face.

“Anyway, it’s done with.” Charles pushes the memories of the raging inferno of hellfire inside the dimension away. He’s been trying real hard not to “keep things bottled up,” like Crystal accused him of doing, since Port Townsend, but this is one thing he thinks he can bottle up for now. “Sorcerer can’t hurt anyone anymore, his victims are avenged, and your wards should stop anyone else from wandering in, Edwin. Case closed.”

“Job officially jobbed,” Crystal and Edwin say at the same time, then look at each other suspiciously. Charles grins down at them. It’s adorable how surprised they both are by the fact that they’re friends now.

“And now I think we’ve earned a break, yeah?” Charles pushes open the door of the office and finds the Night Nurse standing there, standing with her arms folded over her chest and a narrow-eyed look like she’s just caught them out past curfew.

“Evening, Charlie,” Charles says brightly, just to see her eye twitch. Look, he’s mostly forgiven her for cornering him and Edwin in Port Townsend and accidentally getting Edwin sent to Hell, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think he’s earned the right to needle her a bit.

“You’re finally back. I was starting to think you were out… gallivanting.” She says “gallivanting” in the same tone she might accuse them of attending a drug-fueled orgy.

“Oh yeah, loads of gallivanting.” Charles props his elbow on Edwin’s shoulder. “Right, Edwin? We gallivanted right into a sorcerer’s house, where we saved the latest girl he’d tossed into a pocket dimension full of hellfire.”

“And kicked him in for good measure,” Crystal adds.

Charles nods. “It was a real good time. You should have been there, Charlie.”

“You would have loved the pocket dimension.” Crystal smiles in a way that suggests she would have dropkicked the Night Nurse in herself, given half the chance. Charles and Edwin may have mostly forgiven the Night Nurse for Port Townsend, but Crystal never will. She doesn’t take people fucking with Charles or Edwin kindly. Charles finds himself smiling at her dopily and has to turn away. He catches Edwin shooting Crystal a fond look and finds himself smiling dopily at his best mate instead, which isn’t any better.

“Well, now that you’re back, there’s another case,” the Night Nurse says huffily. “And she’s been waiting for hours.”

“Already?” Charles was about to suggest a night of playing Cluedo and not thinking about any fire and brimstone pocket dimensions. “We just got back.”

She glares at him. “Death waits for no one, young man. If you wanted leisure, you should have moved on to your tranquil afterlife.”

Charles grins at her. “And miss your smiling face? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Edwin steps forward with an exasperated sigh, though Charles isn’t sure which of them his exasperation is aimed at. “Who is the client?”

***

Miss Paula Morris appears to be somewhere between forty and fifty, with a cloud of long, silvery blond hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and dangling earrings shaped like goldfish. She doesn’t appear to be a madwoman, but that seems to be the only explanation for the story she’s telling them.

“So, your beau knew the necklace was cursed when he gave it to you?” Edwin stares at her across the desk, pen poised over his notebook. The living—or in her case, the very recently living—continue to confound him. “And you accepted the gift? Willingly?”

“Oh, yes.” Miss Morris smiles a little sadly. “Raymond knew how much I like spooky stuff. He was always doing thoughtful things like that.”

“Spooky stuff,” Edwin echoes.

“Oh, the usual things. Tarot decks, Ouija boards, cursed dolls.”

He suppresses a shudder. “And so he gave you a necklace that purportedly causes everyone who touches it to sicken and die within three days.”

“He said he found it on Ebay.”

Edwin turns to Crystal helplessly.

“It’s like an online auction house.” She pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll show you later.”

“Raymond didn’t think it would actually make me sick,” Miss Morris says. “Just like my cursed dolls didn’t actually put me in an eternal sleep.”

Edwin shudders again.

“So Raymond gave you the cursed necklace.” Charles leans forward, wearing that winning smile of his. “What happened next?”

Miss Morris’s smile dims. “The next day, he called me and said he felt like he was coming down with something. I felt fine until I was coming home from my book club that night and I started feeling faint. It just felt like the flu. I was tired, a little dizzy, and I had a fever. I couldn’t stop sleeping. Every time I talked to Raymond, he sounded terrible, and then he stopped taking my calls. Yesterday morning, I fell asleep and when I woke up last night, I was dead.”

Edwin gives her a moment to collect himself, cognizant of Charles and Crystal’s lectures on bedside manner. “And Raymond?” he asks after what he feels is a sensitive amount of time, at least ten seconds.

She sniffles. “Oh, he died right around the time I fell asleep. His daughter is the one who found my body when she came to tell me this morning. Otherwise, I don’t know how long I would have laid there.”

“And you’re sure it was the necklace?” Crystal asks.

“I don’t know what else it could have been. Raymond and I were both perfectly healthy up until the day after our date. Three days later, we were both dead.”

“Did he say anything about the seller?” Edwin asks quickly, because he can see Miss Morris is getting emotional.

She shakes her head. “Just that the necklace came from America.”

“Thank you.” Edwin jots that down in his notebook. “We typically do not carry out revenge missions and even if we did, the person who sold Raymond the necklace is most likely beyond revenge. If this necklace’s magic is as potent as you say, it’s safe to assume that they’re already dead.”

“What Edwin means to say.” Charles props himself on the desk, all easy charm. “Is what can we do to help you move on?”

Miss Morris smiles at him, because people are always smiling at Charles. “The necklace is still in my house and my sister and niece will be coming up tomorrow to go through my things. I don’t want them to find it and touch it. It’s a beautiful emerald necklace and green is their favorite color.. I’m afraid that if one of them finds it and takes it home…”

“That they’ll become victims of the curse too,” Crystal says when she trails off. “So you want us to break into your house and get the necklace?”

“Yes, please.” Miss Morris reaches up to toy with one of her earrings. “Allison and Maeve are my only family. I’ve already lost Raymond. I don’t want anything to happen to them.”

Edwin closes his notebook and exchanges looks with Charles and Crystal. It seems like a straightforward case, just the thing after the ugly business with Russell Mathers and his pocket dimension. The sorcerer was just the latest in a line of harrowing cases and Edwin knows his partners are starting to feel the strain. If all they have to do for Miss Morris is break into her home and steal a necklace before tomorrow, this should be a simple affair.

Charles nods and Edwin turns back to Miss Morris. “We’ll be happy to take your case, Miss Morris. But now, the matter of your payment.”

***

“Dear lord.” Edwin stares around Paula Morris’s house with the expression of someone who’s found himself back in the depths of Hell.

“Come on, mate.” Charles nudges him in the shoulder. “It’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad. How on earth are we supposed to find anything here? No wonder she can’t remember exactly where she left it. Amelia Earhardt’s lost plane is probably hidden somewhere among this rubbish.”

Paula Morris’s house seems like exactly the type of place that would belong to someone who’d fancy a cursed necklace as a gift from her boyfriend. It’s covered from wall to wall in stuff: old-timey portraits hanging on the walls, knick-knacks cluttering every surface, too much mismatched furniture for the small space. Charles kind of loves it, but he can see how it would overwhelm Edwin.

There’s a knock on the door behind them. “Are you going to let me in, or should I stand on a dead lady’s porch all night until the neighbors come over to see what I’m doing?”

“Sorry, Crystal.” Charles turns to let her in with an apologetic smile.

She looks around with a raised eyebrow. “Holy shit.”

“I know.” Edwin sighs. “It’s dreadful.”

“I don’t know, it’s kind of cute. Definitely fits Paula’s witchy vibe.”

“Should we expect to find a giant snake in the basement?” Edwin asks acidly, pressing on before anyone can answer. “We only have a few hours until Miss Morris’s relatives arrive, so we should start our hunt. Crystal, you take the kitchen and the powder room. Charles, you the living room and office. I’ll take the master bed and bath.”

Charles frowns. “You think it’s a good idea to split up? Splitting up on the last case almost got Crystal dragged into a pocket dimension.”

“I do not believe we have to worry about any pocket dimensions this time, Charles. The woman handled a cursed necklace on purpose. A magical mastermind she is not.”

“You know most people don’t really believe in curses, right?” Crystal says. “It’s the same reason little girls play Bloody Mary at sleepovers. They don’t actually expect a knife-wielding ghost to pop out of the mirror.”

“They should,” Edwin says. “Charles and I encountered Bloody Mary herself on a case in 1993. A very unpleasant woman.”

Charles shrugs. “She wasn’t that bad.”

“You only say that because she told you that you had a lovely smile before she tried to stab you.”

“I do have a pretty nice smile, don’t I?” Charles grins at him.

Edwin turns a bit pink around the ears. “She certainly thought so,” he says and turns on his heel, striding down the hall towards the bedroom.

Charles instantly feels awful. In the months since Port Townsend, he keeps finding himself saying shit like that without thinking. He doesn’t mean to tease Edwin or play with his feelings. But he can’t stop himself from testing the waters, seeing if Edwin still feels the way he did back then. They haven’t said a word about Edwin’s confession on the steps of Hell since they returned to London. It would almost seem like a hallucination his terrified mind conjured, if not for the fact that every detail still plays in vivid color in his head every time he has five minutes to himself to think.

He doesn’t want to hurt Edwin. He’d rather cut off his own hand than ever make Edwin doubt he’s the center of Charles’s universe. So Charles doesn’t know why he can’t stop trying to see if he can make Edwin blush.

“Guess we’re splitting up.” Crystal gives Charles a look that’s a bit too knowing, then picks something off the kitchen table.

“Don’t pick up any necklaces,” Charles tells her as he heads towards the master bedroom.

“Thanks, Charles, I was definitely going to pick up every cursed necklace I find. How else would I want to spend my weekend, except dying slowly of a magical illness?”

Charles doesn’t know why he surrounds himself with so many adorable, brilliant smartasses. He goes into the living room to poke around a bit. He doesn’t see any necklaces, though he does find a half dozen half-drunk mugs of tea, several lost earrings in between the couch cushions, and a crystal ball that he slips into his backpack to give to Crystal for her birthday because she’ll hate it. He’s checking under the couch when he hears a sound he’s been constantly listening for since Port Townsend: Edwin’s terrified scream.

Charles phases through the wall in an instant, cricket bat already drawn and ready to go. But he doesn’t find a giant snake, a demon ready to drag Edwin to Hell, or even a mad sorcerer with a penchant for pocket dimensions. Instead, he finds Edwin standing in front of an open closet, grip on the door white-knuckled and eyes enormous. On the top shelf of the closet, there’s a row of glassy-eyed, chubby-cheeked baby dolls.

“Bloody hell, mate.” Charles puts his hand over his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Apologies.” Edwin swallows hard as he steps back from the closet. “They just startled me. I’m being silly.”

“Nothing silly about it.” Charles looks at Edwin’s frozen expression, far too close to the one he wore while watching a demon made of baby dolls tear his body apart, then turns to the row of dolls. With a single swing of his cricket bat, he knocks the baby dolls over, sending them shattering to the hardwood floor. Bits of porcelain scatter everywhere and a single blue eye stares accusingly up at Charles. He crushes it under the heel of his boot.

“That was unnecessary,” Edwin says peevishly as Crystal comes skidding into the room.

“Are you both okay?” Crystal asks.

Edwin heaves a sigh. “We’re fine. Charles was feeling… dramatic.” But there’s a soft curve to his lips as he ducks his head and Charles feels his own lips curling into a smile in response. “You do realize one of those dolls was allegedly cursed, don’t you, Charles?”

Charles shrugs. “What are the chances Paula got her hands on two genuinely cursed objects?”

“I hope you’re right, because if we find ourselves haunted by a cursed baby doll, you and I will have words.” With one last glance at the heap of broken dolls, Edwin turns away.

Charles hesitates, not wanting to leave Edwin again, not so soon after hearing him scream. There may not have been any real danger, but there could have been. Looking around, he catches a glint of something green in the bathroom.

“Hold on.” Charles ducks into the loo and sure enough, there’s the necklace that Paula described, a gold chain with a pear-shaped emerald pendant, haloed by tiny diamonds. It sits on the counter next to the toothbrush holder, probably removed right before Paula went to bed the night she went out for a nice dinner with her boyfriend for the last time. “Found it!”

“Excellent work, Charles.” Edwin follows him into the bathroom, looking pleased, and Charles can’t help but feel the usual warm glow he gets whenever his friend tells him he’s done well.

“It was right out on the counter,” Charles says. “Not much detective work required, was it?”

“Still very well-spotted.” Edwin holds out a hand and Charles reaches into his bag to produce a magnifying glass. Edwin bends to examine the necklace closer. After a moment, he says, “I see no runes or other obvious signs of a curse, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. We can perform a closer examination back at the office.”

“Aces.” Charles reaches for the necklace.

Edwin grabs Charles’s wrist, his grip tight enough that Charles can almost feel warmth, like he’s a living boy with a living hand touching him. “Careful.”

Charles blinks down at Edwin’s elegant fingers, unsure why the sight of them gripping his wrist makes him feel strangely off-kilter. “What? This is what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

“That necklace has killed at least two people that we know of. Until we know more about this curse, caution is in order.”

“Right.” Charles looks up at him, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Mate, I’ve got some bad news for you. You might want to sit down.”

Edwin rolls his eyes at the ceiling, like he knows what’s coming. “Charles—”

“See, I’ve been dead since 1989. You were there, remember?”

“It rings a bell,” Edwin says, clearly trying his hardest to look annoyed.

“And I know it might be a shock to learn your best mate of thirty-five years is a ghost—”

“Are you quite finished?”

Behind Edwin, Crystal snorts.

Edwin turns to glare at her. “Do not encourage him, Crystal, I beg you.”

“I hope we can still be friends.” Charles can’t quite suppress a giggle. Then Crystal starts to laugh and Charles can’t help it; he starts too.

“You are both insufferable,” Edwin tells them gravely. “Can we please get on with the case?”

“Got it, mate.” Charles snatches up the necklace. At Edwin’s incredulous look, he shrugs. “Should I have asked it nicely to get into my bag?”

“I was going to suggest using a towel.”

Oh, right. Charles hadn’t thought of that. He drops the necklace into his bag and flexes his hand. “I’m wearing gloves, aren’t I? Everything’s aces, mate.”

Edwin sighs. “Crystal, please remind me to discuss Charles’s impetuous behavior once we’ve seen Miss Morris off to her afterlife.”

“You say we need to discuss that at least once a week,” Crystal says. “Twice so far this week.”

“And this time, I mean it.” Edwin looks around the bathroom with an imperious air, probably judging the smears of toothpaste in the sink and the mismatched towels. “Now, let us please exit this den of chaos. I shudder to think what else is in here.”

***

“You really do need to be more careful, Charles.”

“Can’t lecture me during boxing lessons, mate. If you’re distracted, that means you get two lessons this week.”

“That was not part of the agreement.”

“I’m the teacher, aren’t I? Think it’s the agreement if I say it is.”

Edwin huffs. It’s just before dawn, Crystal is back at her flat with Niko, the Night Nurse is off doing whatever she does when she’s not assigning them new cases, and he and Charles have a rare moment of peace. A rare moment of peace that Charles has insisted on sullying with boxing lessons, of all things. After Port Townsend, Edwin reluctantly agreed to one boxing lesson per week. He doesn’t think knowing how to throw a punch would have helped him against Esther Finch, the Cat King, or a demon from Hell, but it seems to make Charles feel better.

“You should know by now that, ghost or not, curses are not something that we trifle with.” Edwin throws a punch, which Charles easily blocks. “Do we really need a repeat of the Case of the Cursed Mirror?”

“That curse targeted ghosts specifically, didn’t it? I’m not going to get the flu from a necklace.”

“And you know that for sure, do you? Researched the origins of this curse thoroughly?”

He throws another punch and the next thing he knows, Charles has grabbed his arm, spun him around, and has Edwin’s back pressed against his chest, grip firm but gentle on Edwin’s wrist, which is pinned between them.

“That’s the third right hook you’ve thrown in a row.” Charles’s voice is low in his ear, sending a shiver up his spine. “What have I said about being predictable?”

Edwin is having trouble remembering any conversation they’ve ever had. Charles’s hip is pressed against his backside and it’s absurdly distracting.

“Being predictable gives your opponent a chance to plan their next move. You don’t want that. That’s how you end up in trouble.”

Edwin swallows. “And then you come along with your bat and get me out of trouble.”

“And what if I’m not there?”

“You will be.”

With a sound that’s half-laugh, half-sigh, Charles releases him, letting Edwin turn to face him. “Wish you had enough faith in me when it comes to cursed necklaces as when it comes to fighting.”

Edwin rubs his wrist, even though it doesn’t hurt a bit. Even if he were a human whose wrists could be bruised or broken, Charles would never be so careless with him. “And I wish you cared about your own safety half as much as you care about mine.”

“Not possible.” Charles’s eyes go soft. “I’d never get anything done, would I? I’d be too busy worrying.”

Edwin’s nonexistent breath seems to stutter in his chest. He doesn’t know what on earth he’s supposed to say to that. But before he can think of a reply, Charles steps back, stumbling over nothing and grimacing as he rights himself.

“Charles?” Edwin reaches out, ready to steady him if necessary. “Are you quite alright?”

“I’m fine, mate.” Charles flashes him one of those brilliant grins of his. “Just lost my balance.”

“If you’re not feeling well—”

“Oh, no, you’re not getting out of this so easy.” Charles raises his fists. “Try and hit me again. And if you throw another right hook, I’m tying that hand behind your back.”

***

“Charles, I think this is around where our client died, don’t you? It matches his description. The bend in the path, the pond, the bench.” A pause. “Charles?”

Charles blinks. “Yeah, mate?”

“Doesn’t this seem to be the place where our client died?” Edwin gestures to the park around them.

Charles looks down at the ground, half-expecting to see a chalk outline on the ground. But there wouldn’t be; their latest client is a middle-aged man who died of a heart attack during his morning jog, not a murder victim. There wouldn’t be a case at all, except that some prat stole the dead man’s watch, an heirloom inherited from his grandfather that he wants to pass onto his son, off his corpse.

“Seems like it,” Charles says when he realizes that Edwin’s waiting for an answer. “He mentioned the pond, yeah? And the ducks.”

Edwin pivots to face him, hands on his hips. “What on earth is going on with you today, Charles?”

“Me? Nothing at all. Just tired, is all.”

“Ghosts do not get tired.”

“We’ve worked ten cases in five days, Edwin. I was just hoping for a break after we found Paula’s necklace last night, wasn’t I?” Charles scrubs a hand over his face. His mind is filled with a kind of fog. It reminds him of the nights he would sneak out to go to concerts with his friends and still have to go to school the next morning, doing his best not to fall asleep during history class.

Edwin sniffs. “This is certainly a case that I can work on my own, if you’re not up to it.”

“Not going to leave you alone, mate. What if we’re dealing with a watch-stealing monster? Like that Fae we caught robbing houses in South Kensington?”

“I hardly think we’re going to run into another Fae with a penchant for stealing electronics.”

“I’m fine, mate.” Charles rolls his eyes up at the sky. “Let’s have a look around, yeah? Got to be at least one or two ghosts lurking around. Maybe one of them will have seen something.”

They do find a ghost, an old lady still sitting on the park bench where she died, probably around the same time as Edwin from the looks of her. She seems more interested in complaining about all the riff-raff in the park than answering any of their questions. Given the suspicious looks she gives Charles’s earring, he thinks she might consider him part of the riff-raff, so he lets Edwin take the lead.

It’s a beautiful day, late enough in the autumn that it’s bound to be one of the last beautiful days London gets for a while. Everyone seems to be out enjoying it; couples sit together on park benches, kids dart around the playground, a group of uni students are involved in a spirited, if amateur, game of rugby, joggers and dog walkers make their way along the path that encircles the pond. 

As Charles watches, a little boy dashes away from the playground, shrieking and laughing. His father lumbers after him, growling with his arms stretched out like a monster’s. A year ago, Charles would have squelched the sadness he feels at the sight. Now, he lets himself feel all the grief, anger, and disappointment that he never got to play like that with his own dad, because he had never once felt secure in the knowledge that his dad wouldn’t hurt him when he caught him.

The little boy’s father catches him, scooping him up into his arms, and the boy’s delighted scream seems to pierce right through Charles’s brain. Charles winces. All of a sudden, all the noise of the park, which had been a pleasant background hum, seems too loud. Kids laughing, parents calling out to their children, ducks quacking, the good-natured shouting of the uni students, music blaring from the speakers of a passing car. It’s all too much, like a physical pressure squeezing Charles’s head.

“Charles?”

Charles turns to find Edwin standing there, brow pinched in concern. The old woman has gone back to scolding passing children who can’t hear or see her.

“Charles, are you alright?” Edwin asks.

“Yeah, mate.” Charles grins at him. Should the sun be that bright? It like he can almost feel the heat beating down on his shoulders. He hasn’t felt the sun on his skin in decades.

Edwin’s eyes look startlingly green in the sunlight. They’re really nice eyes. Charles thinks he might tell him that, but everything is so loud around them and he’s not sure if the words come out. Edwin’s mouth is moving, that furrow in his brow deepening. Dark spots are starting to dance across Charles’s vision, but that’s alright, because he can still see Edwin’s eyes.

“I’m aces,” Charles tells Edwin, because he looks worried, right before the ground seems to shift under him and he’s falling, falling, falling…

***

Read the rest here on AO3!

[in1-nutshell]

Hello and how are you? I'm glad that we can request again but also hope you are doing well

So for my request. This is probably my first time, requesting Beast Wars, so been enjoying reading the Beast Wars, especially the 'Finding an Abandoned Sparkling' and it got me thinking of this request

Can you do Blackarachnia become a Mom to a sparkling?

Blackarachnia would take a lot of time to warm up to the kid. Also, this can take place before Blackarachnia joins the Maximal. I also imagine that the sparkling would take a lot of time warming up to Silverbolt because the baby thinks he's taking blackarachnia's time and/or love

Ty and take care!

The sparklings are back!

Hope you enjoy!

Blackarachnia with an abandoned sparkling

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronian reader

BW

The sparkling’s alt mode is a gecko.

The Predacon’s had recently acquired something new from their latest patrol.

Something Blackarachnia didn’t know about, something she needed to know about.

She thought that it was some sort of relic or more news about the Golden discs.

She was not expecting a sparkling, with a reptilian alt mode, nonetheless.

Why couldn't they be a spider?

The sparkling looks all around its new surroundings but stops seeing Blackarachnia.

They squeal and transform out of Inferno’s servos and waddles up to the spider and attempt to give her a hug.

“Beat it kid. I don’t do hugs.”--Blackarachnia

Blackarachnia pushes them away only to find them stuck on her servo.

“What in the Allspark!? Get off of me!”--Blackarachnia

Megatron smirks at this interaction.

“Thank you Blackarachnia for volunteering to take care of the newest recruit of the Predacon cause, yes.”--Megatron

“What?!”--Blackarachnia

“Why not? Look how attached they are already. Yes, you’ll do.”--Megatron

Megatron walks away before Blackarachnia can say anything else.

The sparkling happily swinging from her outstretched servo.

Blackarachnia thought this was a terrible idea.

She hates kids!

Yet the little fella was literally stuck to her side.

Curse those digits.

She did learn to live with the smaller shadow following her every move.

It was tolerable…

Despite openly saying she despised having the little one with her, Blackarachnia refused to have most Predacon’s babysit them.

Tarantulas and Megatron are at the top of her ‘Do not leave them alone at all cost’ list.

Blackarachnia kneeling in front of the sparkling.

“Okay kid, you’ll hold down the fort until I come back, okay?”--Blackarachnia

The sparkling hums in agreement.

Blackarachnia stands up and looks at Waspinator.

“Anything happens to them, there won’t be a CR Chamber that could put you back together. Am I clear?”--Blackarachnia

Waspinator gulps and nods in agreement.

The sparkling waddles up to Waspinator wanting upsies, which Waspinator happily complies.

The spider watches the two go back inside the ship.

Quickstrike walks up to her.

“Aw! C’mon Sugarbot! Why can’t I take care of the kiddo? You know you’ll need a strong and handsome mech to watch over them…”--Quickstrike

“Well Cowboy, in case you forgot, your also on patrol.”--Blackarachnia

“Oh yeah…”--Quickstrike

Blackarachnia had a small habit of doing some things without thinking about the consequences. Not with a lot of things, but some things.

For example, she didn’t think that playfully flirting with Silverbolt would mean anything in the future.

Yet, she had risked her life again and again for him.

Joining the Maximals on the spot was also something she had done on the spot.

Blackarachnia didn’t think much about it until after the battle reality had hit her harder than a missile or blast to the chassis.

Buddy, her sparkling, was still at the base.

She hadn’t told the Maximals this, mainly because her position in their ranks was already rocky as it is.

She didn’t want to know what could happen if she brought Buddy.

Everyone noticed in the next few days how tense Blackarachnia had become.

Like… she was worried about something… or someone…

It took a bit, but Blackarachnia finally relented and told the team about Buddy.

“Woah, woah, woah! You’re saying that you have a sparkling—”--Rattrap

“It’s technically not mine—”--Blackarachnia

“A sparkling in the Preds base.”--Cheetor

“Why didn’t you bring them with you?”--Rhinox

“It was kind of hard with space time was literally falling apart!... By the time I realized that they would be alone at the base we weren’t on the best terms…”--Blackarachnia

Silverbolt taking her servo.

“We’ll get your sparkling my love.”--Silverbolt

“What…?”--Blackarachnia

“You heard me, that sparkling could be in trouble and we could be their only hope! Who’s with me!”--Silverbolt

All the Maximals agree with the statement.

“All right then, we need to—”--Optimus

RING!

RING!

RING!

“That’s the proximity alarm!”--Rhinox

“Everyone to your stations!”--Optimus

Everyone gets to their stations while Rhinox and Optimus go to see who was there.

“Its Waspinator… and he’s holding something…”--Rhinox

Blackarachnia , Silverbolt and Optimus go out to confront Waspinator and…

“Buddy!”--Blackarachnia

The sparkling chirps seeing their Mama and detaches from Waspinator and waddles up to her hugging her pedes.

She kneels down and holds the sparkling close to her, for once, not minding the sticky digits on her frame.

“Wazzpinator take Gecko bot from Megatron. Wazzpinator don’t want to be Predacon.”--Waspinator

“You don’t want to be a Predacon?”--Optimus

“And how are we supposed to believe that?”--Blackarachnia

“Megatron don’t know Wazzpinator here… Megatron wanted Gecko bot to go to Tarantulas… Wazzpinator no trust Tarantulas.”--Waspinator

Blackarachnia tightens her grip on the sparkling a bit hearing her old lab partner’s name.

“… I say let’s give him a chance to prove himself.”--Blackarachnia

Silverbolt and Optimus look at Blackarachnia.

“Are you sure?”--Silverbolt

“Positive.”--Blackarachnia

Silverbolt tries to pet Buddy on the helm.

Buddy gives him a stink eye and hugs Blackarachnia harder.

“Looks like you got some competition Bolt.”--Blackarachnia

Silverbolt laughs at this fully confident he would worm his way into the sparkling’s spark faster than Blackarachnia.

Jokes on him, it takes longer to get the protective sparkling on their good side.

It’s up to Blackarachnia and Waspinator to get the two to bond.

[eyeodyssey]

MOON AGE 15 : DAMNATION (English Translation) Moon Age 15: Damnation is a 1988 short comic by pseudonymous author Not Osada, who openly drew influence from the Tokyo Grand Guignol's work in such a way that can arguably give a loose insight to the TGG's mysteriously anomalous works. While only a slight window into what could've existed in Ameya's vision, each contemporary rendering of his world of gore-soaked medical equipment and rusted metal is valuable in what it represents. As mentioned in my prior Litchi essay, the fragments of the Tokyo Grand Guignol we have now are descendants of a cultural phantom, standing as shrouded windows to a strange intangible stage that's positioned somewhere between post-Maruo inferno, industrial subculture and decadent poetry. While Osada’s manga featured notably grizzly and cruelly morbid scenarios, his stories were made explicitly for the shoujo market with a distinctly shoujo-influenced art style. Characters appear almost doll-like with their visual perfections, all while they’re often dismantled and reassembled in bizarre surgical practices by sadistic doctors. Much like how Zera expresses horror to seeing his own imperfect organs in contrast with his youthful appearance, our pristine victims share the same internals as any other slaughtered cadaver, all in a maddening spiral of narratives that contemporary readers often described as resembling descents to insanity. This fixation of the contrast between perceived beauty and grotesqueness is arguably traced back to the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s own works, with lines accentuating the youthful features of certain characters while audience members were known to fondly look back on the actors’ appearances. Litchi himself was described as being a “cute” robot despite the violence it was programed to carry out. It’s possible that this collision is inherent to Ameya’s conceptual destruction of the TGG. A known detractor to poetic writing, he called on a romantic author to pen the screenplays to the TGG’s first three plays so he could “destroy” them in his direction. The use of beauty could arguably be a mockery of it, taking these idealized dolls and leaving them trapped in worlds of fascism and hospital rooms that are haunted by the stinging stench of antiseptics and blood. Plastic hospital drapes were used in place of stage curtains and autopsy films were shown to the wide-eyed characters, who spoke of pure blood and dirty blood, the antithesis of blood, mercuro. What is beauty a representation of in the Grand Guignol’s works with the prominent fascist leanings of the protagonists? Considering the perspectives of our characters where the Hikari Club and the deranged teachers and Nazi doctors are treated as protagonists rather than explicit antagonists, the plays could arguably be read as the decay of a self-convinced beauty under fascist rule. Songs of the pure-blooded ubermensch fading into silence as the singers all collapse, lost in their own delirium as they pump mercurochrome into their hearts and try to rationalize their own organs that resemble the internals of the so-called ‘landraces’ they rendered into lifeless meat. It’s the natural conclusion of fascism, a collapse that occurs in demented violence to the face of a denial of death. I was originally split on publicizing my translation due to copyright-related complications, but after seeing the increasing gatekeeping of TGG materials at the hands of a rapidly growing market riddled with competitive spending and scalping, I feel obliged to share it to the public who (like myself) can’t afford to spend the now literal hundreds that are required to access angura ephemera that was meant to be openly available to the public to begin with. When originally finding this story, the book it was featured in was only 5 dollars. Now it goes for 60 to 200. That's ridiculous. With all the preamble out of the way, the story is under the cut...

While I made my best effort to maintain accuracy to the source material in translation despite my practically nonexistent understanding of Japanese (my translation method is a Frankensteining of language learning videos, a Japanese to English dictionary from the Internet Archive and Google Translate with a lot of localizing and dissection in between), there are several details I feel I should note for the sake of transparency. One smaller one was the inclusion of the term l * lita. It was in the original text, and I was honestly very unsure of including it in my translation as it’s a term I’m personally icked out by. While I was ultimately recommended to keep the line as is for accuracy, I wish to state that it's a term I'm personally very uncomfortable with in what it represents. The other note, which is the more prominent one in the final product, are the references to The Last Attempt at Paradise. In the original text the club members solely refer to their hideout as paradise and Eden, leaving a lot of excess space in the speech bubbles after translation when making the shift from Japanese text to English. The Last Attempt at Paradise was the name of S.P.K.’s 1982 live album that documents their set at the Off the Wall Hall venue in Lawrence, Kansas. Often considered one of their best concerts and a highlight of the industrial genre, the S.P.K. Appreciation Society of Sydney in their All The Way With S.P.K. / American Tour article describes the concert as being the group's “best performance to date”, further adding that they “Flattened (an) enthusiastic audience with massive P.A. amplification of FX bass regeneration”. This insertion wasn’t done at random, as the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s works were heavily engrained in the original industrial scene of the 80s. Both the 1985 and 1986 performances of Litchi began on a playback of the S.P.K. song Culturcide (from their 1983 Dekompositiones EP), and it was likely that use of the track that led to Not Osada’s early fixation on S.P.K.’s music. At the end of Blind Beast, in a sort of reader Q&A Osada is questioned about some of his favorite music. At the top of the list he features the tracklist of the Dekompositiones EP and the track Mekano from their 1979 Mekano / Contact / Slogun single. Interestingly enough he states that he only likes those four songs from the band, following the text with laughter in regards to their remaining discography. I’m unsure if this means he was unimpressed with their noisier work (which would be curious knowing his liking of Mekano with how it originated from their earliest noise-adjacent album) or if he was directed to their later Machine Age Voodoo material and was alienated by it. In the same Q&A he also mentions the band Funeral Party, who featured specially commissioned art by Suehiro Maruo on their Dream of Embryo single. It's apparent that he also had a copy of the compilation album Vision Of The Emortion, as the list also includes C·C·Mekka and Ego'n Mole, who were both featured in the album alongside Funeral Party's only two other documented tracks, Das Sunde and Gears - Night. S.P.K. references are sprinkled throughout this story along with Osada's other Litchi-adjacent entries. Aside from one of Zera's henchmen being named after the Mekano track, it's very likely that the frequent references to Eden are in homage to the lyrics of Mekano. The first lines of the track include the verses "One by one, odd to even. Break the scenes, rudely eden...".

Moon Age 15 was originally printed in 1988 as a two-part miniseries in the horror magazine Complete Collection of Horror and Occult Works - HELP, namely in volumes 5 and 6. While being an early work that derived from the TGG, it still wasn’t the first comic to adapt the Litchi stage play, with Das Blut : Blood and Eternal Girl preceding it with their 1986 publication in Osada’s debut anthology Night Reading Room, sharing the same year as the TGG’s early closure following creative conflicts between Norimizu Ameya and K Tagane (the group's author, who remains anonymous to this day). It’s to be noted however that while Das Blut and Eternal Girl were the first stories to feature the Hikari Club as antagonists, they are only tangentially related with Moon Age showing more distinct Grand Guignol archetypes (musings of the full moon, examinations of the Hikari club’s misogyny, idealization of technology, and even an early rendition of the Litchi robot itself). First kept solely as a brief serial, Moon Age was later reprinted in abridged form as a short story in the 1996 Blind Beast anthology. While copies of HELP are notably hard to find and demand high prices, I was given an in depth view of both volumes that featured Moon Age’s serialization by a collector earlier last year. While the drawings are still the same on a rudimentary level, the length of the serialized version is notably longer than the later Blind Beast variant, with the HELP serialization being over 40 pages while Blind Beast’s is only 24. This was the product of the manga being entirely revised for Blind Beast’s print, with the layouts being drastically altered along with basic revisions of the line art. Certain scenes that would usually take 2 to 3 pages in the HELP version were condensed to 1, resulting in a unique tradeoff where one version feels unusually spacious in its framing while the other is heavily condensed and almost chaotic by comparison. It’s only a thing that springs on you once you compare the two variants, I saw the revised version first and originally didn’t pay any mind to it. One thing that is certain is the polishing of the art. The brush work in the Blind Beast version is refined with a more elaborate sense of weight and flow while the HELP version is notably rough with the prominent use of rudimentary screentones. It reflects as a somewhat rougher variant of the art shown in Night Reading Room. It feels strangely digital, like it’s the product of early computer art. The line-by-line reuse of the decapitation scene from Eternal Girl being shown on the TVs further adds to the strange digital feel of the art style.

Similar to Moon Age, Osada's other stories of the Hikari Club featured the members luring girls to their brutal deaths. In Eternal Girl the members bring in a student and film her mutilation for a snuff film that acts as the story's namesake, in Das Blut they corner another student to the woods where they hang her, and in Jinta Jinta they kidnap a student who bullied one of her classmates to suicide before trepanning her with a strange device that's somewhere between an electric chair and a drill. Not Osada was very recently namedropped in the concluding essay of an English print of Kawashima Norikazu’s Her Frankenstein under the alternate Nagata Nooto anglicization of Osada’s pseudonym. Their name is a curious case as while there is a prominent written variant (長田ノオト), it’s seen numerous English iterations. In Osada’s own English signatures it is written as Not Osada (with the name apparently being derived from a German phrase), but other variants include Osada Nohto, Osada Nooto and Not Nagata. If I'm not mistaken, it could count as one of the first English acknowledgements of Osada's works in print.

[urfavoritedcwhore]

Not sure if you are up for that but i would love to read the break up from Henry’s POV …

oh pookie yk i’m always up for a good henry pov

break//henry winter x reader fanfic (henry’s pov)

if you haven’t already, go read y/n’s pov loves!!

warnings: swearing, alcohol

not proof read

Yet another dinner at the twins apartment, a space brimming with laughter and drunken revelry. Bunny is in full swing, bickering with me over some triviality, my attention is consumed him. I can hear y/n beside me as she holds on to my arm, her laughter, bright and infectious, pierces through the din. The atmosphere is deceptively buoyant, yet I’m acutely aware of its fragility. Though listening to bunny’s ramblings pain me, knowing that I have the women on my arm that I love brings me some sense of peace. As the night progresses and the drinks continue to flow, I find myself feeling the warmth of the alcohol in my chest. I don’t even realize at first when y/n slips away from me, i’m too engulfed in my conversation with bunny. I suppose in the back of my mind I know she’s slipped away, I can’t feel her warm grip on my arm anymore and her laughter sounds further away. I know Camilla has most likely stolen her away to discuss something, or perhaps to just have a glass of wine with her; But y/n doesn’t drink wine, she drinks scotch. A small glass with ice and lime, she thinks I pour it straight for her but I always dilute it with a bit of club soda. That’s besides the point however. The point is that Camilla simply wouldn’t steal her away when there’s no scotch left. She knows just as well as I do y/n doesn’t drink wine, and they only seem to talk while they’re having a drink together. As my mind continues to conjure up what they could be doing bunny’s words suddenly strike through my thoughts. I raise an eyebrow, not hearing what he said only the teasing tone he said it in. He nods forward looking over my shoulder with a grin, “looks like the old man is taking your girl for a spin.”, he says with a drunken chuckle. My eyebrows furrow in confusion before I turn my body towards where his gaze is pointed. Richard and y/n are in the open space of the living room, drunkenly swaying to the music from the record player. They dance together, Richard’s hands resting too comfortably at her waist. It’s absurd, I know, but the sight ignites a sense of urgency within me. I know I should dismiss it as harmless fun, but I can’t.

I feel any ounce of my inebriation wash away. I’m utterly sober in this moment. I stand wordlessly for a moment before finally speaking up, my tone sharper than intended, “that’s enough y/n. let’s go now.”. Y/n chuckles, disentangling herself from Richard and stumbling toward me. “That was fun, old man. Let’s do it again sometime!” The way she adopts Bunny's vocabulary is grating. I drape my arm around her waist, my grip tight, and turn us around, walking us toward the door. I call out my goodbyes, dragging her along before anyone can even respond. As we make our way down the hall, her laughter rings in my ears, but I keep my eyes focused ahead. Her drunken giggles don’t mask the irritation simmering beneath the surface. I can feel my grip on her waist tightening involuntarily, a mix of possessiveness and frustration swirling inside me. She seems blissfully unaware, lost in the moment, and it drives me mad. I whisper to myself a quote from Dante’s Inferno that seems to fit quite well to the situation I find myself in while keeping my eyes straight. I see her up at me slightly, “huh?”, she asks almost like a child who doesn’t understand a school lesson. I take a breath and repeat myself, “I said, ‘there are two reasons for evil deeds, one is illness, the other is wickedness.’”. She’s silent for a moment as we get into the elevator. I keep my eyes on the doors as they shut, eager to get away from this damned situation. From the corner of my eye i see her head tilt as she looks up at me, “Dante’s inferno. Canto 11, Dante discusses the nature of sin and the motivations behind evil deeds.”, she says. She sounds almost proud she knows the quote. To be quite honest, I feel a twinge of pride as well, though I make sure not to show it. After all, i’m the one who gave her a copy of that book. I simply nod once in response.

The elevator doors finally reopen. I walk out, my grip on her waist still firm. If she wasn’t drunk I’m sure she’d be saying something about how I always, “forget my own strength”, and how she’ll, “probably have bruises in the shape of my fingers tomorrow!”. This thought makes me loosen my grip slightly, I don’t want to hurt her physically, not even when i’m as mad as i am right now. She speaks again as we walk out of the elevator and into the lobby, “why are you quoting Dante to me?”, the innocence in her voice only frustrates me further. I don’t answer, I only continue to walk towards the doors. As we exit the apartment complex, I let go of her waist; The cool air hits me, sharp and refreshing, yet it does little to clear my mind. I don’t bother to open her door when we approach my car, she can do it herself. I open my own door instead and sit myself in the drivers seat. She doesn’t follow immediately, but i choose to not look at her. Approximately 15 seconds go by before the passenger door opens, and I feel the car shift slightly as she drunkenly plops into her seat. I snap my head to her, I force the words out, “So which are you, Y/N? Are you mentally ill or simply wicked?” It’s a question I know is harsh, but I need to understand why she danced with Richard, why she doesn’t see how it looks. Her surprise cuts through me, “excuse me?”, she asks, I can tell my words have sobered her up slightly. I start the car and turn my head back forward as I back out of my parking space. I press on, driving the point home. “Did you embarrass me because there’s something mentally wrong with you, or did you do it just to be wicked?” Her disbelief stings. “Are you joking?” she asks, and I can hear the hurt in her voice. I scoff, but deep down I’m wrestling with the fear that this might be more than just a misunderstanding. I steal a glance at Y/N, confusion etched on her face. “Are you joking?” she asks, her voice tinged with offense. I can feel the irritation bubbling beneath my skin, but I keep my focus on the road, unwilling to let her see just how much this bothers me. “Good God,” she continues, “he’s homosexual, Henry.” Her dismissal stings, but I can’t let it show. “So there is something mentally wrong with you then,” I retort, my voice sharper than I intend. “You don’t see the way he looks at you all the time? Y/N, he practically salivates over you.” The words slip out, laced with a mixture of annoyance and anger. She shakes her head, disbelief written all over her features. I can feel the tension in the car tightening, the air thick with unspoken words. As we drive toward campus, I can sense her confusion. “Why are you driving to campus?” she asks, and I keep my eyes trained on the road, determined not to falter. “I’m taking you to your dorm.”, I reply, forcing a sense of finality into my tone. She should understand this, we’re clearly on the way towards Monmouth house. But inside, I’m wrestling with my own emotions, the weight of my jealousy heavy on my chest. I know I’m being unreasonable, but the sight of her dancing with Richard, the way they swayed together as if it were the most natural thing in the world, has ignited a fire in me I can’t control. She deserves to understand the implications of her actions, and yet here I am, driving her away from me. “why aren’t we going to your apartment?”, she asks, her tone dropping from anger to a childlike innocence. I sigh, she needs to understand that I can’t be embarrassed like this, that she can’t act as if she’s single. I take a moment to collect my thoughts, not letting myself speak until we reach her dormitory building and park. “I need to not be around you right now y/n.”, I say flatly, feeling my resolve harden. That is, until I look at her. The way her face falls hits me harder than I expected. “I don’t want to go to my dorm… I want to go back to your apartment.” Her voice is almost a whisper, and it makes me feel like I’m suffocating.

I want to reach out, but I can’t. “I think it best if we spend some time apart. I cannot continue to be constantly worried about you going off with another man.” The words feel like a knife twisting in my gut, but they’re necessary. When her eyes glisten with unshed tears, I realize I’ve crossed a line. “What do you mean by ‘time apart’?” she asks, voice trembling. “Are you breaking up with me?”. “If that’s what you need me to call it, then I suppose. Though I would rather just call it a break for right now.” I force myself to keep my tone even, to hide the turmoil within. Don’t let her see your emotions, Don’t let her see your emotions. I watch her face shift as she processes my words, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. I can see the moment the realization hits—her breath catches. I want to reach out, to soften the blow, but the jealousy tightens its grip on me. I see a tear escape down her cheek. She nods, quickly wiping it away, trying to regain her composure, I assume. “Fine. If that’s what you want,” she replies, her voice steady but laced with hurt. I glance back to the windshield, forcing myself to stay focused. “It is,” I say, my tone clipped and matter-of-fact. I can feel her pain in the air between us, but I can't let it show. I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the weight of what I’ve said. I watch her from the corner of my eye. In the fleeting moment when her expression softens, I can see the vulnerability beneath her bravado. But just as quickly, she wipes it away, unbuckling her seatbelt with determination. “Fine then.”. She opens the car door, stepping out into the night, and the sound of it slamming shut reverberates through me like a finality I hadn’t anticipated. I want to call her back, to explain that this isn’t what I truly want, but the words feel stuck in my throat. Instead, I sit in the car, the silence heavy, knowing I might have just lost her.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The One That Got Away Timestamp: Adopting Miracle

Summary: Dean has found a friend in Miracle, the dog whose owner perished in a fire. Unable to find a suitable owner, he reluctantly takes the pup to a shelter. Can Dean leave him there to wait for his forever home, or will he have a lot of making up to do with Y/N?

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: General

Bingo Square(s): Adopting a Pet for @j3bingo and “Guess I’m just a sucker for stray dogs and naked guys.” for @jacklesversebingo

Warnings: Fire, dog licks and slobber, implied smut, ruined shoes, ruined roast dinners, a little bit of angst, fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: You thought it was over for these two, didn’t you? I did, too, but when I finished TOTGA, looked at my J3 bingo card to see what was next, and saw “Adopting a Pet, " I knew I had to expand on how Miracle came into their lives. I hope you enjoy this fluffy little timestamp! 💖

My Masterlist     AO3     Ko-Fi

This wasn’t a fire; it was an inferno, and Dean knew they’d be lucky to get anyone out of this alive. They didn’t have long to sweep the building and listened intently for Bobby’s voice on their radios telling them to get out.

“Can you hear that?” Dean asked Benny, who shook his head.

“I can’t hear shit, Captain,” Benny responded.

Dean nodded but kept inching to where he thought he heard a whine. With the roar of the flames and the creaking wood and cracking walls, it was possible what he heard was just part of the fire. Then he heard a bark and saw movement ahead of him.

“Lafitte! Over here!” Dean approached the dog, faithfully standing by his owner, barking to raise the alarm.

“Hey, buddy. It’s alright. I’ve gotcha now,” he said, crouching to be closer to the dog.

“I’ll get him, Cap. You get the dog,” Benny said, and Dean nodded, picking up the dog and making his way out of the building before it crumbled.

“We need a medic over here!” Dean yells as he exits the building, Benny not far behind with the injured man over his shoulder. As Jack and Jo ran towards them with a gurney, Dean put the soot-covered dog down and held him close while the paramedics cared for the patient.

“It’s alright, buddy. They’re gonna take care of him. I gotcha.” The whining, distressed dog broke Dean’s heart, knowing his owner would be lucky to survive the journey to the hospital, let alone recover from his injuries.

“There’s a good boy,” Dean soothed. “I’ll get you a new home, bud. A real good one where they’ll take care of you. I promise.

As hard as he tried, Dean couldn’t find Miracle a home. Bobby had been kind enough to let the dog stay at the firehouse for the past few days. Still, none of his colleagues could take him because they either already had a pet or lived alone and didn’t have someone to look after him when they were on a twenty-four-hour shift. He’d asked friends, too, and no one was willing to take on the responsibility. After five days, Dean took the dog to a shelter, and his microchip at least gave him a name: Miracle. It was an apt name for him, considering how they met.

It’d be hard to leave him at the shelter, but there was no other option. With both he and Y/N working shifts, he couldn’t see a way to make having a dog work. Sure, he only did two or three twenty-four-hour shifts a week, so having a dog would usually be fine. Still, there would be an issue when they were working the same day or night because leaving him alone for at least fourteen hours would be cruel.

But as soon as a handler reached for Miracle’s leash, the poor dog whimpered and cowered behind Dean’s legs.

“He seems to have a good bond with you,” the handler smiled. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you to adopt him?”

“I wish I could. My girlfriend and I,” it still sounded strange to say and made him grin stupidly every time he called Y/N his girlfriend. “We work shifts. It wouldn’t be fair on him.”

“We have flyers on the desk with highly rated dog walkers, and if you have family or friends who could take him when you’re working?”

“We sometimes work nights. I’m not sure we’d find a dog walker willing to do that. And my brother and sister-in-law just had a baby, so that wouldn’t work. My parents might, though.”

“Sounds like you have something to think about,” the handler chuckled.

“A dog, Dean. Really?” He’d be terrified at the look on Y/N’s face if it wasn't for Miracle licking and drooling all over her. “We work shifts. What are we—no, you know what? You. What are you gonna do when you’re working, and I’m on nights? Did you even stop to think about that?” Taking her seriously while covered in slobber and scratching behind Miracle’s ears was hard.

“I spoke to Mom and Dad, and they’re happy to come by and walk him when we’re working and take him overnight when we’re both on nights. Come on, Y/N! You think I don’t know you love dogs, that you’re literally on the floor showering him with love right this second?”

“It’s not the point, Dean! The point is, this is a huge commitment, and we’ve only been living together for two months, and suddenly we’ve, no, I’m sorry, you got a dog? What if it’s too much? What if it—”

“It won’t. I promise. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll take him back to the shelter, okay, Princess?”

“Alright, fine,” Y/N huffed. “He can stay,” she put on her best high-pitched doggy voice while pouting her lips and letting the dog lick her face, and Dean grinned, knowing he’d won this particular battle.

“Uh, you sure about that, sweetheart? You’ve gone from hating the idea to letting a strange dog lick your face in record time!” he teased. Knowing how much she loved dogs, he knew Miracle would win her over quickly.

“Guess I’m just a sucker for stray dogs and naked guys,” Y/N winked, and he frowned. Did she mean the dog? Or—

“Get your clothes off, Dean!” she chuckled. “You’ve got a lot of making up to do for bringing a dog home without talking to me first, and I’m going to start collecting. Bedroom. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, the sound muffled as he spoke while pulling his shirt over his head.

Y/N had spent hours in the kitchen cooking family dinner. She loved these when she was younger. It was the one day of the week she could let everything with her father go and just be herself. Be a kid. At least until she got home. She wouldn’t go down that rabbit hole tonight, though, not when she had a house full of people to feed.

Grabbing dishes filled with potatoes and other side dishes, she walked from the kitchen into the dining room to put them on the table. “Dinner’s ready,” she called into the living room. Dean, John, and Sam were watching the football game, and Mary and Jess fussed over Matthew.

Smiling, Y/N walked back into the kitchen, and her stomach hit the floor. “Miracle, stop that right now!” she yelled, seeing the dog on his hind legs, front paws on the counter and eating the roast chicken. “Stop it!” she yelled again and walked over to pull the dog away. “Get down from—Dean! Get in here!”

“Bad dog!” Dean said, pointing at Miracle. “No treats for you!”

“No treats, Dean. Really? That’s all you got?” Y/N huffed and directed her attention to the offending pup. “Why is it always me, huh? Why do you never do this to your dad? You just love pissing me off, don’t you? You’re lucky you’re cute,” Y/N scowled at the dog while scratching his head. Miracle whined and put his head on her knee. “And cuddly,” she grumbled.

“Who wants pizza?” Dean clapped his hands and chuckled, trying to ignore the death stare his girlfriend was throwing his way.

“Dean!” Y/N screamed, and he ran upstairs and into the bedroom. Seeing the scowl on her face, he dreaded to think what Miracle had done now. The dog seemed to love tormenting her for some reason.

“These are Louboutin’s, Dean! My favourite pair of shoes, and he’s just chewed them to shreds!”

“Sweetheart, they’re just shoes. I can get you new—”

“These are not just shoes! These are eight hundred dollar shoes!”

“Eight hun—who in their right mind needs an eight hundred dollar pair of shoes?” It slipped out before he could think about it, and as he met Y/N’s gaze, tears swam in her eyes, and her arms dropped to her sides, each hand holding the remnants of a shoe. Dean swore she’d never looked more defeated than right now.

With tears rolling down her cheeks, she stormed past him and out of the bedroom, fleeing faster than he’d ever seen her move.

“Y/N. Princess, come on! Let’s talk about this!” he pleaded, running after her. “Bad dog!” he yelled behind him at Miracle, sitting in the corner of their bedroom, looking all innocent and cute.

He got to the bottom of the stairs just in time to see her throw the shoes in the trash, pick up her purse and car keys and slam the front door behind her.

Dean sighed when he felt Miracle’s fur tickle his fingers. “What am I gonna do with you, huh? Couldn’t go for a cheap pair, could ya? You know I’m going to have to replace those, right? Eight hundred bucks for shoes! Lost her damn mind...” he mumbled as he grabbed the lead, Miracle trotting happily beside him, knowing it was walk time. 

She’d had her worst shift in a while. There had been a gas explosion near the elementary school that had sent multiple casualties to the hospital. The incident has been truly horrific and spawned multiple fatalities. These kinds of accidents were the worst part of her job.

Getting home a few hours later than usual and exhausted, Y/N went straight to bed. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but dealing with those types of injuries made her lose her appetite.

Slipping out of her shoes and pulling her scrubs and bra off, Y/N moved to her side of the bed, ignoring her usual sleepwear in favour of her underwear and the vest she wore under her scrub top.

Sighing at the golden lump sprawled out on her side of the bed, she sighed, not in any mood to have this fight with him again. Encouraging him to move with a gentle shake, Miracle raised his head to look at her.

“Time to move, bud,” she said, nudging him to get him moving, but Miracle put his head back down on the mattress, ignoring her completely, and she sighed, tears welling in her eyes.

“Dean,” she whispered, nudging him instead. Miracle might not listen to her, but she knows he’ll listen to Dean. He always does.

“Dean!” she says a little louder, and he jumps awake.

“Hey, baby,” Dean rasped sleepily.

“Can you get him to move so I can get into this damned bed?” Y/N asked, defeated.

“Alright, buddy. Time to get down,” Dean said to the dog, who immediately obeyed the command. Y/N sighed, and her shoulders sank, unable to stop the tears.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked, noticing her slumped figure and wet eyes.

“Yeah. Bad shift,” Y/N replied, climbing into bed and wrapping herself in the duvet.

“I saw the explosion on the news. Do you want to talk about it?” Dean asked, and Y/N smiled slightly at the kindness of his gesture.

“No. I just want to sleep.”

“Come here,” Dean murmured as he pulled her into his body and wrapped his arms around her.

Miracle jumped back onto the bed and tried to settle in between them again, but Y/N knew if she let him, he’d shove her out of the bed.

“Miracle, down!” she commanded, and of course, he ignored her and began stretching his paws out, trying to push her to the edge of the bed.

“Miracle, get down!” Dean said sternly, and once again, the pup immediately obeyed and jumped off the bed and out of their bedroom; hopefully, Y/N thought, to spend the rest of the night in his own bed downstairs.

“That dog hates me,” Y/N huffed, and Dean chuckled before kissing her forehead.

“He does not,” Dean tried, but Y/N only scoffed.

“Alright, buddy. I can’t live like this anymore. It’s getting us nowhere,” Y/N said to Miracle, and Dean tried to hold his laughter as his girlfriend tried to level with a dog. “We need to call a truce so we can live our best lives and coexist without me yelling at you all the time and you chewing up all my shoes and eating the Sunday roast.”

Dean looked on, amused, as Y/N crouched in front of Miracle. “What d’ya say, huh? You think we can be friends?” she said, scratching behind his ear, and Miracle barked in return.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes! Now, let’s shake on it.” Holding her hand out, Miracle quickly lifted his paw and placed it in her hand. “Good boy!” Y/N said and scratched his chin, prompting Miracle to step forward and lick her cheek.

As Y/N walked Miracle in the park, she made a mental note to herself to find another route for the winter months. It was getting darker earlier, and she’d worked in hospitals long enough to know what could happen to women walking through parks alone in the dark.

Suddenly, Miracle took off running, pulling his lead right out of her hand, and sped off towards the bushes where he’d undoubtedly torment the life out of a poor squirrel or five.

“Stupid dog,” she mumbled as she briskly walked to catch up with him. “Would never do that to Dean, would you? No, because he’s your buddy, and I’m just… I don’t even know what I am to you. A pushover, probably.”

Walking over to the bushes, Y/N hears rustling and is about to call Miracle, but a man’s voice startled her.

“Well, hey there. What’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone in the dark?” The stench of alcohol almost made her reel back in disgust, but she knew the worst thing she could do was show weakness to the stranger.

Before she could answer, she heard the patter of feet and Miracle barking as he ran from the bushes and stood before her, protecting her from the man with vicious snarls and barks.

Y/N was about to attempt as swift an exit from the park as Miracle’s scare tactics didn’t seem to be working. The dog seemed to come to the same conclusion and lunged at him.

Finally getting the drunk to back off, she wasted no more time getting them both out of there quickly. “Good boy,” Y/N praised with ear scratches. “Let’s go home, buddy.”

For the first time since she’d walked Miracle alone—because he was always on his best behaviour for Dean, he didn’t pull ahead of her. Instead, he walked calmly right by her side all the way home.

“Well, it looks like you two are getting along better,” Dean said when he came home later that night, seeing Y/N and Miracle snuggled up on the couch together.

“We had a traumatic night, and I think we’ve finally buried the hatchet. Ain’t that right, my good boy!”

Dean climbed the stairs quietly, not wanting to wake Y/N. She was supposed to finish her shift at seven last night but had to stay on until the wee hours of the morning.

He walked into the bedroom and smiled at the sight before him. Despite constant protests about the dog being on the bed, Y/N was curled on her side, sound asleep, snuggled into Miracle’s back with a small smile curving her lips.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean whispered, scratching behind his ears. “Were you a good boy for Grandma and Grandpa?”

“He’s always a good boy.” Y/N’s voice was heavy with sleep, and she smiled hazily at him. “Your dad dropped him off at about eleven. He would’ve kept him all night, but I thought I was getting home earlier than I did.”

“Sorry I woke you, baby. Go back to sleep. I was coming up to take Miracle for a walk,” Dean glanced at the pup and frowned when he remained where he was, not even his tail wagging. Walks were his favourite thing, and usually, he couldn’t wait to get outside and cause mischief.

“It’s okay,” Y/N yawned, “I should probably get up anyway.”

“Uh, no. Absolutely not!” Dean placed his hands on his hips, trying to show her he meant business. “It’s only gone seven. I got off shift early. When did you get home?”

“Four,” Y/N yawned again. “Then I took him for a walk.”

Dean nodded, now understanding why Miracle wasn’t keen to go out again. Then again, he wouldn’t leave the bed with Y/N cuddling into him like that, either. “So you went to bed when?”

“About five-thirty,” she answered.

“Nuh-uh, nope. Not a chance in hell you’re getting up right now,” Dean huffed as he shrugged out of his flannel, unfastened his jeans, kicked them off and pulled off his socks. “We are going to sleep for a few more hours.” Dean insisted before directing his attention to the dog. “Daddy’s home now, so you’re gonna have to move, buddy.”

With a huff, Miracle stood from his spot and walked to the bottom of the bed, dropping down heavily on Y/N’s feet. “Did he just give you sass? Oh, how the tables have turned!” Y/N chuckled, and Dean shook his head in disbelief.

“Apparently,” Dean huffed as he climbed into bed. “Now, come here, baby. I need some sugar!”

“Sugar?” Y/N chuckled sleepily.

“Yeah. I want some of my girl’s sugar,” he grinned, shuffling as close as he could and opening his arms to invite her into his embrace. “Come here, Princess.”

Y/N gladly accepted Dean’s invitation, shifting as much as she could with a dog on her feet, and rested her head on his chest. She hummed contentedly as he wrapped his arms around her, and she quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Eleven - Security footage reveals an unpleasant truth and Miguel makes a move Ch 12

Y/N: Miguel, you didn’t need to get me flowers, that was so sweet, thank you!

Miguel smiles and sends you a quick message back before pulling up the surveillance feed and accompanying text Kasey sent him.

Kasey: Dude is an absolute loser, my condolences to y/n, but are you sure you want to do this?

Miguel: It’s in her best interest, thanks for your help, good luck in Vermont.

It takes no time to send the security footage of Todd and Kasey to your phone along with a short message from him explaining how sorry he was to have to show you it, that Kasey fessed up because she felt so guilty.

He has to be there, has to console you if you need consoling. He knows you, knows that even though you want to leave Todd, seeing him cheat on you will break your heart.

Miguel stands outside your office, and even if he didn’t have enhanced hearing, he’d be able to hear the argument you’re having.

Raised voices, accusations thrown back and forth, you’re upset, rightfully so, Todd had cheated on you, with more than just a kiss, and he showed no remorse.

“No, are you fucking serious? You cheated on me.” Your voice is angry, seething, marked with hysterical laughter. “I’ve got the fucking footage right in front of me.”

“You’d really believe some random grainy footage over me? It’s probably photoshopped.” Todd says.

You scoff. “Photoshopped? Why would someone photoshop this, who would even do that? You think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“No, no, I’m not saying that, I’m just saying I’m hurt you don’t trust me.”

“You’re so—I can’t even—I’m done, I’m done, you know what? We’re done, it’s over, don’t ever fucking call me again.”

“You know what, call me when you’re done with your temper tantrum, then we can talk about this like adults.” Todd snaps.

“No, we’re done, it’s over.”

Todd laughs, “I see what this is. You’re just doing this so you don’t look like the bad guy, so you can go off and mess around with your fucking coworker.”

“Are you serious? You cheated on me with said coworker’s date.”

“No, I didn’t, it wasn’t like that.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, you can’t make me think I’m crazy. We’re over, Todd, leave me alone.” Then you hang up, throwing your phone onto your office couch and burying your face in your hands.

Miguel waits a few seconds then knocks on your door as he opens it slowly. “Y/N, everything alright?”

He expected you to be crying, to be heartbroken, but you simply look angry, and almost relieved.

“Yeah, I—Todd cheated on me, he tried to act like I was crazy and just making it up, but I mean you know it happened, you literally sent me the footage. Thanks for that, by the way.”

You let him gather you up in a hug, closing the blinds to your office window, and locking the door behind him without you noticing. “You deserved to know.”

You nod, face pressed to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him. “I know I’ll be sad later, but I’m just so glad that it’s over. And I’m so mad that he tried to deny it, he literally tried to gaslight me.”

Miguel smooths down your hair, humming in response.

“I just want him to hurt, but I don’t know how. Maybe I could slash his tires or put sugar in his gas tank?”

He pulls back slightly, the venom in your voice is intoxicating, he wants to see the inferno raging in your eyes.

Miguel, he thinks I’m doing this to get with Miguel, what if… Your thoughts are swirling, fantasies and revenge plots forming and unraveling as you mull your options, deciding if you have the courage.

“Use me.” He says, drawing your attention back to him. “As a man, there’s nothing worse than knowing the woman I lost is…engaging in intimacy with someone else, someone better than me, or receiving something I didn’t.”

He’s practically salivating. The images in your mind are salacious, ranging from a simple picture of his cock resting on your tongue, to a short clip of you riding him, moaning, and mewling for him, the camera focusing on the way you take his cock so well, how it stretches you out.

“I don’t know, wouldn’t that maybe be dangerous, like what if he takes it and posts it somewhere?”

“He won’t, trust me.” He cups your cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin. And he’ll delete the images from Todd’s phone immediately after Todd sees them.

You lean into his touch, and he can feel your arousal, a slight trickle, building slowly as your mind continues swirling through lewd images and ideas. “And you would be okay with it? I don’t want you to do this because you feel obligated, or sorry for me.”

“I offered, and I meant it.” He says, meeting your gaze, searching.

You shake your head and step out of his embrace. “No, no, I can’t that’s crazy. I’m not going to stoop to his level. Besides, if we did do something and send it to him, then that just proves him right.”

He mourns the loss of your warmth, the feel of your skin on his, but you’re right. He’d never want to give Todd the satisfaction of knowing he was right, of having something that like to hold over your head. “I understand.”

“I think I’ll just block him on everything and be done with it.” You say firmly, quickly blocking and deleting Todd from your phone.

You’re a better person than him, always have been and in this moment, he wishes you weren’t. Wishes you would’ve gotten on your knees for him, let him take a photo of his heavy cock resting on your tongue, or let him split you apart, juices dripping, wetting his skin, as you sang so prettily for him.

He allows you to step further out of his orbit, regaining your self-control, shyness falling over you like a thick veil. There’s nothing stopping you two now, no barrier, no mortal man, and he can sense how anxious and out to sea that makes you feel.

“Can I take you to dinner, an actual dinner, with food we both like, and no unwanted guests?” Miguel asks, reining in his own self-control, he’ll push his desires aside, he’ll always push them aside when it comes to you, to the fragility of your emotions in these vulnerable moments.

You fiddle with the edge of your phone case, not quite meeting his eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d love that.”

TL:@obi-mom-kenobi, @poutysprouty, @oharasfilipinawife, @laysmt, @cicithemess, @unabashedcroissanttreefan, @lynxslokley, @thedevax, @generalkenobitrash, @keiva1000, @wilmontana987

[inexplicablymine]

Maybe because it’s 3:42 in the morning and I’m feeling maudlin, but let me be sappy for a moment of your time dear internet.

Because dear internet, you fucking suck. There is no other way around it, from stan trolls, to the rampant isms that plague platforms, to the depths of hatred that seem to be so easily spewed from a screen, you take the pits of hell and present it to us in nice, neat, perfectly packaged bite size pieces. Dante’s Inferno might have been a fan fiction of the Bible, but you have found a way to push us, unwillingly, through the nine circles of hell all on your own.

But dear internet, in between all the faff and pieces of your mainframe that I can’t seem to stand, I have found the most wonderful people. In the dusty corners of a discord chat, discussed between the tags of reblogs, in intermittent DM’s, through AO3 comments, and a whole host of cobbled together platforms stuffed underneath a trench coat trying to appear put together… I have found community.

Even if just for an infinitesimal moment, for a shred of time, for the split second it takes to slip into something more, I am reminded that all we have in this world when it’s all said and done are the relationships we have built with others, the love we have doled out to the people around us, and the kindness we have fostered for friends we have made.

I sit here with tears in my eyes and a frog in my throat feeling thankful that these wonderful talented fantastical people from all over the globe are my friends. That I get to have them in my life. That their silly words, and laughter, and imagination get to mark up my brain and settle deeply into the grooves of who I am as a person.

So dear internet, you might suck truly, madly, deeply but some of the people hiding between your folds of code make me feel like even though the world is on fire, and gets closer to the inevitable end with each and every waking moment, I now have the kinds of people who make it worth doing more than just survive.

My community, my friends, my silly little names in my phone, thank you for making this year bearable, exciting, and brand new.

[a-french-coconut]

Here are some extracts from my Drew Tanaka fic because I want to share them with someone !

Summary :

It is profoundly difficult for demigods to find something they all agree upon. From the godly rivalry running in their veins to petty arguments, the residents of Camp Half-Blood always have some feud going on. However, there is universal truth clear in everybody’s mind: Drew Tanaka is bitch with a heart of glass. 

What they don’t know is that the girl they despise is a girl buried in corpses and expectations who only wants one thing : get Silena Beauregard out of her fucking mind. 

Extract #1 :

A first punch leaves the mirror shattered and her fist bloodied.

There’s a traitor. 

An another one sends flying all the beauty products standing on the shelves of Cabin 10’s bathroom. 

“-Oh my gods honey are you crying ? What happened ? 

-Charlie is— oh Drew I… it’s all my fault but he told me he—

-Silena, what happened to Beckendorf ? 

-HE’S DEAD DREW ! He blew himself up to sabotage Luke’s armies because someone told him they were coming ! Oh no, hum, forget I said anything sweetheart okay ? The counsellors are supposed to keep it secret ‘cause we wouldn’t want to cause a panic right ? Hey Drew ? Are you listening to me ? You can’t tell anyone about this you hear me ?” 

A third punch lands on the wall, bruising severely Drew’s knuckles but the pain is better than what’s she’s been feeling since Silena slipped up. 

There’s a traitor, there’s a fucking traitor who wants them all dead, they killed Beckendorf, they probably killed Lee and Castor and they will kill everyone else if Drew doesn’t find who it is. 

There’s a scorching inferno in her heart. She never suspected she could hate someone she doesn’t know with such passion (oh buy you know them don’t you ? Odds are the traitor already talked with you, laughed with you, trained with you.).

Extract #2 :

Drew has to refrain herself from cursing Clarisse when she finds out Silena is dead because of the stupid pride of the girl. Her sister lead the Ares campers knowing full well she could not kill the drakon. 

Why, Why would her sister kill herself ? 

“She felt guilty for Beckendorf’s death.” 

Clarisse answers the question Drew had not realized she had verbalized, eyes still glazed in pink. Why the Hades would her sister feel responsible for—

The realization comes with a pang of pain right in her heart, as if someone just stabbed her (maybe someone did). 

“Charlie is— oh Drew I… it’s all my fault but he told me he—"

(Hey  there was someone before Beckendorf remember ? The tall boy with a scar on his face ? The one Silena used to gush about until—, until… wait no what am I saying ? Silena only loved Charles) 

Her brain feels like Athena is going to come out from it. Memories of Silena and Luke Castellan laughing and whispering behind the cabins flash brightly and darkens just as fast. Why did she only remember now ? 

Her eyes wander to Silena and the answer is painfully clear : because the one who charmspoke her into forgetting is dead and so is her magic. 

There’s a traitor. 

someone told him they were coming.

There’s a traitor, there’s a fucking traitor who wants them all dead, they killed Beckendorf, they probably killed Lee and Castor and they will kill everyone else if Drew doesn’t find who it is. 

There’s a scorching inferno in her heart. She never suspected she could hate someone she doesn’t know with such passion. 

Silena is the sister Drew loves and adores. 

Silena is the traitor. 

Did it basically gave you almost everything I've written at this point ? Yes absolutely

It's far from being finished and I had to rewrite it again three times because the other tentatives were really bad but I'm getting there !

[stabbyfoxandrew]

good morning and happy wipwednesday <3

I'm so happy to see you're excited to write this week and I'll humbly request arsonist!neil

also happy valentines day (if that's what people say we don't really have that in my country) <3

WIP Wednesday (2/14) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 95)

As usual, Andrew is the first to board the Fire Bus. He taps his foot against the floorboard and waits for a couple minutes before the rest of his motley crew finally get their ducks in a row. Boyd is the next to show, dropping into the driver’s seat like a block of lead. He turns the engine over and starts tapping an address into the GPS monitor. Andrew doesn’t give it a second thought, until Renee climbs up. 

She glances up into the front and gasps, “Matt, are we going to St. Agnes’?”

Ah, that’s why it was familiar.

“Uh, yeah.” Boyd says, half turning in his seat.

Renee’s eyes widen and her hand comes to cover her mouth. “Oh no. Did they say how bad?”

“No, but it’s gonna be fine. Best in the business on our way,” Boyd smiles. “As soon as my wife gets in here.”

The passenger door opens and Wilds hops in as if on cue. “I’m ready, let’s roll.”

“It’ll be alright, Renee.” Andrew says softly. Renee nods, then says something under her breath that must be a prayer.

—

There is not a fire at St. Anges’. There is nothing at all going on at St. Agnes’, well except for Mass. Andrew isn’t exactly sure what that means, but when the truck rolls up an old guy wearing robes comes out.

“There isn’t any fire. I don’t know who could’ve called that in.” He says, looking confused. “Service is just about to start, if you’d like—”

At that, Andrew turns on his heel and returns to his beloved backseat. He’d rather lick the trucks’ tires— all six of them— than listen to that. He sighs and pulls off his coat to drop it on the bench beside him. False alarms are better than having to stand in an inferno for hours, Andrew thinks. If his evening is going to be free, he can spend it talking to a certain idiot instead.

It only takes a couple more minutes for the rest of the team to return. And once they’re inside, Boyd starts up the truck— again— and turns them back towards the station. Renee gives Andrew a look before shaking her head.

“What.”

“You know what. That was really rude. Father Paul is very nice.”

“He’s not my Father,” Andrew says, crossing his arms. “And I don’t see why he felt the need to invite us in. We aren’t vampires. Or are we?”

“Andrew,” Renee rolls her eyes, then laughs. 

“Perhaps St. Agnes put out the fire for us,” Andrew says, contemplatively. “Can’t saints do that kind of thing?”

“Actually… Maybe. But St. Florian is the saint of firefighters,” Renee says.

“And Agnes is what? The saint of golfers?”

“Nope. Rape survivors."

“Oh." Andrew sits there with his foot in his mouth for a second. "Well, good for her.”

[natlacentral]

Dallas Liu for Boys By Girls. More photos and interview behind the cut.

Photography ELIZABETH WEINBERG Fashion LUCA KINGSTON Interview CAT EVANS Grooming TAMMY YI for EXCLUSIVE ARTISTS using T3 MICRO Production TREVOR PERSON

The sky trickling in thick clouds yawns open, summoning rays of light to stream down into outstretched hands. Warm, welcoming. Palms rub together and friction sparks, filtering dark shadows into shimmering strands of energy. A glint of light swells into fiery radiance, and Dallas Liu is in the centre of it all, as both himself and as Zuko fromAvatar: The Last Airbender. He is setting his path aflame as he grows resilient and intrepid, and through it all, countering the dimmer parts of life with the brightest fire.

Filled with a charismatic and personable energy, Dallas leads each conversation with a contagious spark that you just can’t help but match. It could be the fact that Dallas and I have both been west coasters since adolescence, but there is a chilled, laid-back state right off the bat as he and I sit to chat. Born and raised in Los Angeles, Dallas started acting at a young age, and there is a fierce ambition and drive in him that is truly electrifying to encounter as his career begins to ignite. Having infinite support from his loved ones, Dallas has a steady head on his shoulders and a big heart that always makes space for others, but never forgets to leave room for himself as well.

Dallas instantly supplies the energy of a born leader, but he confesses his leadership skills have grown substantially over time, with the most growth happening during the filming of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Even though we’ve just met, a sense of pride for Dallas floods my system as he speaks about his role as Zuko, especially when his eyes light up as he admits Zuko was his favourite character growing up. What a childhood dream, indeed, for him to play the young firebender in the new live-action series! There is a cadence of sincerity and intellect from Dallas as he speaks of the close knit relationships created with the other cast members during filming. We talk about how Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, who plays Uncle Iroh in the series, took Dallas under his wing and allowed space for him to gain new skills and knowledge, both mentally and physically. Dallas speaks as though he has lived many different lives, leaping from one world to the other and always leading with intention and consideration.

Through sips of tea and banters about the weather, Dallas and I settle into a space that is cosy and comfortable as we set ablaze conversations around managing big transitions, representation in Hollywood, and the importance of forgiveness. Through it all, Dallas carries the duality of calm waters and kindled fire all at once - a gentle, warming spirit through and through. He is striking the match, igniting his own fire, and making home in an inferno of self-assurance and purpose.

Avatar: The Last Airbender releases February 22, 2024 on Netflix.

Dallas, hello! Looks like you might be in some chilly weather with that jacket on.  [laughs] Yeah, I’m in L.A…It’s in the sixties…really not that cold, but it is for here!

Yeah, Los Angeles must be getting a slight cold front like a lot of other places in the states have! Right! For an L.A native like myself, this is when we wear our trench coats and what not. Everyone's standing outside with their scarves and coffees and hot lattes!

Well, it’s so great to get to chat with you! How has your day been today? Good, thank you! Just hanging out, and the trailer for Avatar: The Last Airbender dropped today, which is super sick. I'm feeling very excited about that! I’ve been calling everyone, seeing how they're feeling. I was just happy to finally have something out after so long. I think our teaser was released last year in November, so it's been a while, and now the show's coming out in a month exactly, so I'm just happy to finally be sharing it!

Yes! And the trailer is so great, I’m really excited. I grew up watching the animated series - I’m thrilled for the live action and to watch it now as an adult! Yeah, I think especially with the way the show is doing it where we're spreading it out, with the first season being the entirety of book one, will be really awesome! There’s just too much that goes on in that first season to really compact it into a three hour film.

For sure, I agree! Well, we’ll dig deeper into the show of course, but let me give you a warm welcome back to Boys By Girls! This is your second time sitting down with us for a conversation. Your first interview was in September 2021. How does it feel to think about the time that has passed since then? I can’t believe that much time has passed already. It’s so cool…and also frightening! It all feels like a movie in itself. It’s been a whole entire journey since the last time I talked with Boys by Girls. I had only just booked Avatar: The Last Airbender, and I hadn't even really started prepping for it at that point, because they hadn't sent us the script or anything like that. Now I'm getting to talk to you guys again and the show is coming out soon! I feel like not only have I been able to grow as an actor, but as a person as well. And I'm just excited to talk to you guys again!

We’re very excited to have you! And we’ve just transitioned into a new year. What would you say the biggest transition was that you went through in 2023?  Well, this is kind of a very basic answer, but I think a lot of people in my generation are learning to not obsess over things out of our control. As long as you've done your part or done your best in that moment, the moment has passed now. So, you know, it’s about being able to accept that. What you've done is done. It's time to move on. All you can do is be proud that the moment existed and you were able to participate in it.

How do you do with transitions and change in general? Is there anything that helps with change and staying grounded?  I am definitely someone that finds change challenging, but it's something that I enjoy as well. It means that something is happening in your life. It's proof that you are really here and living through it all. This kind of goes back to my last interview with Boys By Girls, but I can't stress enough how much my family and friends mean to me through all of this change. My family and I are so close. There's no way that they'd ever let me switch up on them or turn out to be this crazy person. And with my friends, during transitions, I think the ones who can stay will stay. The ones who can't, or choose to leave, were friends with me for the wrong reasons.

For sure. Our loved ones definitely keep us in check during transitions and change, as well.  Yeah, I feel that! As you get older those numbers of friends will decrease, and you're going to naturally start looking for more friends that feel good to spend time with and keep you grounded. However, if there is this prior knowledge of your status or career, there's always a little scepticism that exists within you. Sometimes you're not really sure whether or not to fully form that friendship and trust them. But for me, luckily I have not only some of my high school friends, but people I’ve worked with. All of us working on Avatar: The Last Airbender, except for the adults, are kind of new to the industry. We're all sort of trying to figure out how to just be our best selves as actors, but also as people. All of us on the show are constantly keeping each other in check, which is really nice. That's such a precious thing.

That is really vital. I think in any career, having those sorts of connections is so important.  That's always the best thing with co-workers. Like, there's no extreme character that you’ll sometimes see in these television shows and movies. We're all people. We’re all just normal people, right? We're on the same TikTok algorithm! [laughs] Yeah, that's when you know they're for life: getting on the same algorithm!

That’s true compatibility! And, on the subject of friendships, one of the biggest themes in Avatar: The Last Airbender is the importance of community and friendship. How was your experience with building a community and support system during the filming of the series? I'd have to say in the beginning it wasn't too difficult. I was calling my mom every day, calling my manager every day, and staying in touch. And, you know, sometimes when you're put in those specific environments with new people, you go through this struggle bonding with the other actors and actresses. We also went through a boot camp for martial arts training, and we worked on scripts for a little bit. So, I'd say in the beginning it wasn't too difficult for me to make those connections.

However, later on in the process, when we were about four or five months into shooting, that's when I really relied on Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, who plays Uncle Iroh, when I was on set. Then when I was off set, it was Ian Ousley, who plays Sokka. Him and I were actually roommates, so after months of shooting, we finally decided, yeah, let's move in together! Like, why not? Our characters rarely interact in the animated series, and when the main three were on set, I was at home, and then we'd just go back and forth. It was funny, he and I would always have some tea and just debrief the day after one of us would come home from work. It was totally like a real life couple activity!

So, you are playing Zuko in the new live-action series Avatar: The Last Airbender! What are you looking forward to most with the release of the series?  For this release, I'd have to say [I'm most looking forward to] the relationship between Zuko and Uncle Iroh. When Zuko is on his own, he's kind of this crazy, mad, angry teenager, right? He's going through a lot and he's experienced a lot. But when he's with Uncle Iroh, he seems to be more in touch with his senses and his emotions a little bit better, although he is still quite lost identity wise and in what he actually wants for himself. But I think everyone has felt that way in some part of their life, especially in their teenage years. That'll be something a lot of people can relate to - that feeling of being angry with whatever you might think is the cause of your problems, although not necessarily being fully self aware.

In the teaser, you get to see Ozai and Young Zuko fighting in their Agni Kai. I'm really excited to see people watch me play the younger version of Zuko as well. I think that'll be a fun twist, because younger Zuko is obviously, as you know, way different from bald ponytail Zuko. [laughs] I'm stoked for that. And I'm stoked for people to see Uncle Iroh in general. Paul Sun-Hyung Lee is a super talented actor that helped me grow and become a leader on set, which was really big for me, because I didn't really understand the role of a series regular. Although they have this title of a regular character, and you know they're going to be in almost every episode, I didn't know what the role was when you're not on camera, and how your mood can affect the rest of the crew. So that was really, really valuable for me.

Zuko is portrayed as an “anti-hero” in Avatar: The Last Airbender, even though, in a lot of ways, he’s just a complex character going through his own coming-of-age and personal growth. What would you say are Zuko’s greatest internal struggles?  Personally, I had to really understand Zuko. I had to know every single part of the series. Even going back and watching YouTube analysis videos of his character was so beneficial for me. You see in the animated series of the first season, he's kind of just a hothead all throughout. So what I wanted to make sure I did was give Zuko some sort of depth as a real person. Because, yes, we are living in this fantasy world - you have all these crazy animals and spirits that are involved. But at the end of the day, these characters are human beings. They eat, they sleep, and, as a plus, they can bend. And, sure, bending is the whole thing about Avatar, but I wanted to give a real performance of me, a human being, as Zuko. He's been my favourite character since I was young! I wanted to sort of dissect my childhood and my own personal relationships, even though they’re incredibly different from Zuko’s, to see if I could use any of those past memories to my advantage. Although not all of them were very useful. Imagine if I was like, yeah, I burned my face! [laughs] No, just kidding. But, yeah, I think trying to relate to Zuko is going to be hard for anyone just because the trauma that he experienced was so extreme. But I worked with what I had. I had a lot of source material and I had a few performances to look at. I used everything that I could at my disposal.

What do you cherish the most about being a part of the Avatar: The Last Airbender world? Hmm, that’s a great question. Can I ask you to answer that question for yourself first? [laughs] I need time to think!

Oh gosh, turning the tables on me! It is definitely a difficult question, because there’s so much about the world that comes to mind. As a kid, it was the escapism for me that felt super important. Also, the whole idea of bending being this certain outward form of expression, like what art is for people, that was big for me to see as a kid. It’s why I love being an artist, and I think that carries through the series beautifully.  Dang, those are some great answers. Now I don’t know what to say! [laughs] Just kidding. Yeah, I totally agree with that. I think for me, my favourite part about the whole entire series is probably the individual journeys each character goes on and the storytelling within that. The way that each character's journey sort of ties in together and brings them to that one final battle. And it’s not only just the physical battle, but it's mental for each of them as well. I'd have to say, also, I love how much the fantasy world really does relate to the real world. There's a lot of beautiful themes in the series.

That’s a really lovely answer! There are themes in Avatar: The Last Airbender that are a bit grittier, like conflict and war, disability, discrimination, and grief. How important do you find these topics to be to the series and plot? And also exposing these topics to younger generations through the series?  I think it's so important, however I don't think it's the most important thing about the series. It's of course vital to give youth some sort of exposure to those grittier topics, because it does exist in the real world. It is, in a way, preparing them for these big world issues, right? Like, you're a kid, so typically you're kept in your house, taken care of by your parents, going to school. It's this simple life, but obviously as you get older, everything just becomes more complicated. It's tough to deal with all of that tragedy and evil that exists. However, what you see during those wars and the outcome of these amazing stories is that they're all good endings, so I guess that helps out the kids quite a bit. I mean, you don't really think about the genocide and violence in the series too, too much as a kid. You're like, ah, dang, they got wiped out. As an adult, you're like, oh my Lord! But, I guess because you're a kid, you don't really think too deep into it. So I think with every darker theme in the series, there's a lot of lighter themes to combat it. And, as a kid, you want to hold on to those light themes. It certainly balances out everything. I feel like the light certainly outweighs the darkness just because it is, at the end of the day, a kid series.

The nations in Avatar: The Last Airbender are influenced by East Asian and Inuit culture, which are respectfully showcased in the fantasy world. How do you think this series is providing a stage for representation, especially as a show that is revolutionising television for younger generations specifically? I think it's doing it in the best way possible, especially our live action series with Netflix. You see these Asian and Indigenous cultures, and it's something that everyone can relate to. You're seeing that representation in the faces, in the world building, in the costumes, but deep down at heart these are characters that everyone can relate to, or have met someone that they can relate to, that has a similar nature to all of these characters. I think that's where not only Asian and Indigenous cultures would like to move forward in Hollywood, but minorities in general would like to experience that well roundedness in the characters. I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's cool we get to play ethnic characters that aren’t just only ethnic characters, but real human beings, you know? Their ethnicity isn’t the only thing about them, and not the thing that is being solely focused on. Their ethnicity is not their story.

Especially being in America, although those ethnic stories are extremely important to our story in Hollywood, it's cool we get to play these roles that don't exist in the real world, but everyone, no matter what race you are, will relate to these people. I mean, that's the whole reason I fell in love with the animated series as a kid. For me, I knew these characters were similar to me culturally, but to get to see them just live out their life in a fantasy world where none of that stuff really matters, it's just the world that they exist in, I think is so cool.

Now for a fun (and thematic) question…what natural element would you say you resonate with the most?  Hmm. This is so lame because I say the same answer every time, but it's so true. I'd have to say fire. I mean, it's a good one. And, yeah, that's just what people have said about my looks all my life. [laughs] No, no I’m joking about that! It's definitely the opposite. Definitely the opposite. But with fire, not only do I think it's the coolest, but I'm a Leo, I'm a fire sign. It just kind of all adds up.

In your previous conversation with Boys By Girls, you express your love of boba. I have to ask, what’s your go-to boba order? Ah, I think over the years it's gotten more and more simple, actually. Now I go to this place called Chicha San Chen. And boba is Taiwanese, but this place really emphasises that they're Taiwanese. For a boba shop, they're Michelin star rated or something like that. It's insane. If you're ever in LA, or I think the other location is in Vancouver, you’ve definitely got to give it a shot. It is so good. I usually always go with a black tea. At this place you can throw in cream or mousse, which is sometimes so nice with it. Then I like to get either fifty or seventy-five percent sugar, depending on the day. You can also order hot tea boba at this shop, and it's super good on chilly days… like this where it's 65 degrees [laughs] [It's for] when you're wearing your puffer jacket and beanie, and you're like, ooh, I need a little hot drink in my life. But then if I get iced, I always do less ice. Yeah, that's the order. Black milk tea, or jasmine milk tea, of course, is great as well.

If you could manifest this new year in one word, what would that word be?  I would have to say “forgiveness.” I pray for forgiveness because I think especially after coming out of COVID, people are trying to figure themselves out, and everyone needs forgiveness. Whether it's a person that has done you wrong or someone that you may have done wrong, knowing that maybe either one of you had a part in it and simply giving them that forgiveness and closure could go a very long way. Whether they're aware of whatever happened or not, I think to get that off of your own chest, or for them to get it off of theirs, is a small gesture that really can go a very long way. I think forgiveness can impact everyone very, very deeply.

That’s a stunning perspective and way to move into this new year! Thank you for the lovely chat, Dallas, it’s been such a pleasure. And I’m so excited to watch the show when it comes out!  Thank you, I appreciate it so much. This has been super fun!