#although he could do underground tests

[redpenship]

a double flash event near empire territory has been detected by satellites

[yandere-sins]

Can I request a reluctant reader taking care of a very sick yandere? Yandere can be any character of ur choice >.< tyia

Thanks for requesting! ^-^

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"You're hurt..."

The stench of blood, dirt, and sulfur filled the air in the underground hideout as you climbed off your bed, the heavy metal around your ankles rattling when you moved. You watched as the silver-haired man collided with the wall before sinking to the floor, his body sparely illuminated but his hair shining brightly, giving away his position. Your gut churned with hesitance, with the instinctive need to avoid all evil—especially the one that had threatened and abducted you. But it had been so long since he left. So long that you've been stowed away in secret. You were, unfortunately, drawn to him like a moth to the light.

Even though you kept your distance from your captor, your words barely a whisper as if not to disturb the man sitting on the ground, holding the side of his stomach, Calcharo flinched at the sound of your voice, cranking his head back to look at you. His gaze was unreadable, his whole face a mask free of emotions. But judging by the pool of blood collecting next to him, the wound must have hurt, even if he showed no signs of it.

"I promised I'd be back—" he mumbled as a ripple of tension tightened his muscles, everything in him readying his body to get up from his spot. As if greeting you properly was needed at that moment. But with his teeth bared, the gaping wound stole all of his strength, making him sack back to the dusty ground with a muffled groan.

"Give me a moment. It'll heal."

Curiosity killed the cat as you stretched your neck, bile rising to the top of your throat at the nasty sight of the gash. Even Calcharo's big hands—that you remembered so vividly squeezing and pulling at your body—weren't enough to cover the wound completely, blood soaking all of his clothes and staining the floor. Wasn't there medicine for that kind of injury? Although, seeing a doctor would probably be more appropriate. If it wasn't for the awkward situation you were in, you'd have freaked out at even the thought of seeing someone so badly injured, yet all you could do was stand in one spot, a good five steps out of his reach.

Even when you fiddled with your hands, wrenching and holding them, you were less anxious, knowing he wasn't in the condition to harass you that day. He'd been gone for a while, leaving you to your own devices and the evergrowing boredom. But you were still undecided if you preferred him being back and constantly hovering over you, watching and testing your reactions, or the loneliness and isolation you experienced, chained up and hidden away who-knew-where when he was gone. Both were unideal; both were destructive behavior on his part. You didn't have much choice in it, but him coming back severely injured was a situation you hadn't grown accustomed to yet.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

His head jerked upwards, eyes narrowing at you suspiciously. Yeah... you surprised yourself, too. You weren't the type to offer help, especially not to him. You were his captive, nothing more, nothing less.

"Or not..." Hands falling to your side, you fiddled with the seam of your shirt instead, avoiding his gaze as always. To Calcharo, you were an object to be observed, one he owned now but still couldn't help but expect to be betrayed by. As if you were going to pull a knife out any second now and stab him, even after he immobilized you with the chains around your legs. He was that kind of man; that much you had learned about him, even if it barely seemed to graze the surface. You began hating the feeling of his eyes on you the moment he revealed himself to you in this shabby hideout, his gaze so incisive it hurt. As if his eyes were daggers that he dragged through your flesh, stabbing over and over in an attempt to rip out your soul for him to observe.

"There are some bandages behind the mirror in the bathroom."

Torn from your thoughts, you couldn't help but stare back at him, even as his head fell forward again, his gaze disappearing. You two didn't have that kind of relationship. You didn't help him when he was in need, so you felt surprised at the simple instructions. They held no weight as if he didn't care whether you followed them or not—as if he expected you not to, rightfully so. Glancing at the blood, you thought that a bandage might be useless, that he needed stitches at least. But Calcharo said nothing more, pressing his palm harder against the wound without making another sound. Your head turned towards the door leading to the bathroom, and although it felt wrong to consider helping him, a compassionate part of you recognized that he needed you, your feet slowly turning away, picking up the pace as you disappeared from his sight.

The mirror caught your reflection as you flicked on the light. You had seen better days that much was sure. You weren't famished, the bags under your eyes more from anxiety and stress than lack of sleep. However, the green glow of the light didn't do you any favors either, and although you didn't think of yourself as ugly, you could only wonder what your kidnapper saw in you that he had to take such drastic measures. You were just you. That seemed to have been enough for him, even if it was strange.

The chain around your ankle felt twice as heavy as you wondered how long you'd be in this situation. Would you ever be free? Would he let you go if you helped him? Calcharo had always been silent when you asked him for his reasons. He'd sit by your bedside and wipe away your tears if you cried, begging him to be reasonable, but he never gave you the answers to console you. That was the kind of man you had offered help to. Someone so cold and selfish.

Opening the cabinet, you realized you had never looked behind the mirror before. Why? you wondered, but you were surprised at the amount of medical equipment. There were a couple of first aid kits and a box of resonator-only medicine and tools. He had every shelf stocked fully, and although he only asked for a bandage, you took at least one of everything you could find.

Calcharo was eerily quiet when you returned to his side. It made your pulse rise momentarily as you feared he might have died in the minute you were gone. The chain you were strung to clattered as you ran over, dropping to your knees next to his, dropping some of the extra weight from your arms to the floor in a moment of panic. You realized your closeness too late, anxiety shivering down your spine with how little distance there was between you two. But your focus shifted instantly, relief filling you as Calcharo looked up at you again, his eyes dropping to the items crammed between your arms and body. He scanned over your haul, and you immediately felt silly for worrying about him at all. He was perfectly fine, it seemed.

But what would you have done if he died?

You didn't know how to get out of here in the first place. Calcharo had never shown you any keys to undo your chains or to open any doors. There were no windows, and if you got out, there was no guarantee you wouldn't be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by Tacet Discords going for your throat. These thoughts made your heart sink with a sense of panic as if reality was finally hitting you over your head. Or perhaps it was the thought of living with a corpse until you found your demise here as well. Either way, you were glad when he reached for one of the packages, revealing some round pills that he slipped between his lips, glancing up at you for a moment as if to make sure you were watching him swallow them. You fiddled with the medical utensils until you found another package, wanting to give it to him, but he shook his head as you held it out.

"Just use the bandage."

"You want me to do it?" you asked, reluctant to simply act. Glancing at the first aid kit, you were sure you'd find some there, but so far, Calcharo had always handled himself around you. Even when you had an outburst, trying to hit him, he'd let you slap him across the face rather than stop you. You'd half-expected him to retaliate when you stumbled back, recognizing his strength as superior and bracing for the impact, but it never came. He had always remained calm and composed, even with the glowing red hand-mark across his cheek.

It was the same with food or bathing. Calcharo always had enough rations stocked, and if he was back at the hideout, he made you meals all the time, only eating your leftovers or getting something for himself after you had your share. And he never took a shower first, ensuring you had all the warm water that would eventually turn cold (sometimes you let it run out of protest). You thought it might have simply been resourcefulness, but you began overthinking your beliefs now that he wanted you to do something for him.

"Are you sure?" you asked him again. There was a sense of exhaustion when he looked up at you, and much to your own surprise once more, you quickly snatched the first aid kit when he reached for it. "I can do it! Just didn't think you'd want me to..."

Calcharo let out a short grunt before lowering his arm again, not fighting you on this, but his eyes followed every one of your movements as you fiddled with the first aid kit. Ridden with sudden determination, you almost dropped all the contents on the undoubtedly nonsterile floor, only catching the bandage midair while some of the tools clattered to the ground. Quick as lightning, Calcharo caught a small pair of scissors before they could graze your leg, his bloody fist wrapping around it so tightly, you could see his knuckles whiten through the red sheen.

You gulped, watching him drag the scissors and his arm back to his side, too afraid to straighten your gaze and see the wound in full glory. When you agreed that you could do it, you had temporarily forgotten about the truly gut-wrenching part of medical treatment, and suddenly, you were even less sure about all of this.

Calcharo grumbled under his breath, noticing your sudden stiffness. His free hand reached out to touch yours. "Open it," he muttered, and his words put your body into motion. Following his instructions was so much easier than working through the thoughts that made you hesitate. He grabbed the start of the bandage from your hands once you unwrapped it, waiting for you to get onto what he was doing as he placed it over his naval before pressing it down onto the wound.

There was some visible comfort in the way his shoulders rose tensely as he covered the wound, but he dragged the now bloody bandage over the gash with skilled precision. As if he had done this countless of times, and you were almost certain he had. You reckoned that his life must not have been easy if he got so used to hurting himself for the sake of simply healing. But you quickly reminded yourself not to sympathize with him. To not forget how he wronged you despite this moment of unusual humanity. Usually, he appeared to you more like a monster, but right then, he was but a wounded soldier, and perhaps your parents had been right; you were too good-hearted for your own good.

Dragging the bandage to his side, Calchero stopped, huffing as you had stopped unwrapping more of it. He pulled his legs in so he could push his torso off the wall before he looked up at you. Gulping, you knew what you had to do. It wasn't like he wouldn't do it himself, but it was honestly ridiculous that you sat there frozen in place now that you had come so far. Inching closer, you positioned yourself between his legs, hesitating for a split second more before you reached out your arms, wrapping them around his front to reach behind Calcharo.

Carefully, perhaps with less pressure than he would have liked, you wrapped and pulled the bandage from his back to his front again. Calchero released it once he noticed you taking action, but when you reached the blood-soaked gash again, it was his hand that did the dirty work, pressing the bandage down. There was about one more round that you could make, and you quickly guided the wrap around him once more before making an amateurish knot on his healthy side. It was far from perfect, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his blood coating your hands now, too. It didn't feel like you helped him, but it was what he had wanted.

Placing your hands on the ground, you wanted to get up again, get some healthy distance between you two, and clean your hands if you got the chance. But before you could even slip one leg out from underneath you, Calchero's whole body suddenly collapsed forward. In a spurt of a moment reaction, you grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing your own between his collarbones to brace against his weight that could have easily buried you underneath it.

"H-Hey!" you called out, unsure what was happening, when you suddenly felt him inhale deeply, his hot breath releasing against your chest, sending shivers down your spine. And then, he chuckled.

"I didn't think you would."

His voice vibrated against your skin as he spoke them directly into your body. You didn't know what to say nor what he meant, but you felt the goosebumps rise across your arms and neck.

Calchero lifted himself just enough to nuzzle his face between your neck and shoulder, his weight so heavy as it rested on top of you. All you could do was curl your fingers into his body, and you cursed yourself for not immediately pushing him away, a small part of you afraid you might agitate the wound.

"Didn't think you'd care about me."

"I don't," you clarified, sounding pouty rather than confident. It had been a mistake, after all. You should have just let him sort out his own mess and stop being a busybody and help. Then, you wouldn't be in this situation now, your pulse throbbing in your ears as your heart began to beat faster with the anxiety and discomfort.

"I'm glad," he muttered. "Glad you care."

"I don't!"

This time, you did push. At least you tried. Calcharo didn't move an inch away from you, his head resting on your shoulder, his body threatening to bury you underneath if you didn't stay solid in your spot. The thought of Calcharo trapping you on purpose crossed your mind, and you hated yourself for not seeing it coming, walking right into the trap. And even if not, he was clearly exploiting the situation for all it was worth!

Of course, he'd take advantage of your kindness. Of course, he'd use your naivety and kindness to exploit you for something he wanted. Even if you questioned why it had to be you, why he kidnapped you of all people, his intentions—albeit disciplined—had always been clear. Although he held himself back from doing something regrettable so far, you had caught him touching you often: touching your hand while passing you a plate with food, brushing away hair from your face right after waking up, and letting his fingers glide over your arms or legs while you had dozed off, just to name a few. You should have been more careful. Should have listened to your body telling you to stay away. It might have just been something akin to a hug, but you should have never allowed him to go this far.

What if he took your kindness for consent?

"Please stop," you mumbled, feeling the tears shoot into your eyes. You didn't need to turn your head to know his eyes had opened, probably after hearing the sob in your voice. You wished you were stronger, able to push him away. Wished you could have fought him and caused him to stop liking you—wanting you. Wished you never even thought of him as anything but a monster.

"Just a little bit longer," he mumbled, lips brushing against your skin. Even when hiccups shook your body, Calchero didn't move, didn't budge. It seemed he didn't care anymore, getting exactly what he wanted. All you could do was sit there and wait for it to end, just like always. You felt his gaze vanish, the closeness allowing him to observe you differently, without needing to see when he could instead feel you.

His arms wrapped around your body, and you felt more trapped than ever, the feeling only registering when he said two more words that day,

"Thank you."

[tiredoffeelinglost-writes-shit]

Fire in My Blood

Bane x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Word count: 4908

Warnings: 18+, Non-con drug use, fuck or die (sort of), slight dub-con (but not really), unprotected sex, mainly PWP, unbeta'd

A/N: my first time writing smut so be gentle

You woke up in bed, slow and groggy. The pain in your head was rolling through you in waves and you thanked your drunk self for at least closing the curtains so there wasn’t too-bright sunlight burning through your eyelids. Idly, you hoped that whatever you couldn’t remember doing last night was worth a hangover this size. You shifted to cradle your head in your hands but your hands didn’t move. Panic washed over you, sudden and icy. Your hands were trapped above your head. 

Forcing the panic aside, you tried to take in your surroundings. You didn’t want to open your eyes yet, in case you were being watched, so you listened hard for something, anything, to tell you where you were. 

No footsteps, no shuffling, no breathing outside your own. Aside from our hands, you were lying comfortably on what you assumed was a bed, complete with a pillow under your head and a blanket that smelled freshly laundered. The room felt bigger than your bedroom and you could hear a kind of white noise outside the walls, getting louder and softer in intervals like–

Waves. Water. 

You must be near the docks. Probably one of the abandoned warehouses frequented by one of Gotham’s handful of criminal enterprises. 

Speaking of criminals, you thanked your lucky stars for the recent training in analyzing and understanding your environment from the man that still sent chills down the spine of most Gothamites. 

You didn’t understand how you had caught Bane’s attention but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It took some time between your underground meetings and the handful of times he visited your apartment through the fire escape but you had molded a sort of companionship. He was gentler with you when you weren’t training. The glimpses you got of Bane the Man and not just Bane the Weapon had inklings of longing for something more worming their way into your heart but you squashed them to the best of your ability. You knew who Bane was and knew he could never see you as something more than what you had. 

Taking a steadying breath, you slowly opened your eyes. Only a sliver of the room was visible through your eyelashes at first but you didn’t see anyone else around. You blinked your eyes open and looked toward your hands.

Plastic zip ties held you to the metal headboard, biting into your wrists. You flexed lightly, testing their strength, when a door to your left opened and a man in a long white lab coat walked in.

Jonathan Crane was an objectively handsome man. The whole evil mad scientist thing left a lot to be desired although, knowing him, he probably had a drug for that too. His attention was on a clipboard he was carrying. Talking to himself in soft murmurs, he strode confidently over toward your bed. 

“Ah look who’s awake!” He finally looked up at you and smiled, full and genuine. “Perfect timing.” His gaze raked over you, cool and calculating, and it made your skin crawl, suddenly aware that you were dressed in only your bra and panties from the night before. The thought of Crane undressing you while you were unconscious had bile rising in your throat. 

“What am I doing here?” you fought to keep your voice steady. 

“I needed a guinea pig for something I’ve been working on lately. I was out looking for suitable candidates last night and saw you out with your friends.”

Something must have shown on your face because Crane waved his hand dismissively. “They aren’t here. They had too much alcohol in their systems and it would’ve taken too long for it to metabolize. I couldn’t risk that altering my results.”

Now your blackout made more sense. You had been out with a small group of friends at a bar just celebrating the end of the work week. Things had gotten a little fuzzy but you just assumed it was due to one too many margaritas. Crane must have slipped something into your drink.

Anger flooded you. “You kidnapped me to use me as a test subject?”

“You shouldn’t sound so ungrateful! You’re helping the cutting edge of science! Of understanding the human brain!” He sounded so earnest as if he truly believed in his work without a care in the world that he kidnapped you for it. 

The panic you had been fighting down, hit you like a train. You were trapped on a bed with a madman who had plans for you and no one knew where the hell you were. You wondered how long it would be until anyone found your body. You had to get out. 

“I needed you to be awake before I started the test, though,” he explained. “It will be much easier to judge how quickly the effects start if you're conscious.” He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a syringe and vial. The pale purple, syrupy liquid in the vial seemed to swirl as Crane pulled it into the syringe, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

With the dose measured out, he turned back to you. You shifted as far away as your binds would allow, inadvertently pressing yourself further into the mattress.

“You’re a smart man,” you tried to reason with him, “You know who I spend my time with.” 

Explicitly connecting yourself to Bane wasn’t something you wanted to do - whatever you two had felt tenuous at best - but desperate times call for desperate measures. No one would be dumb enough to touch someone with any direct connection to the man, right?

“Oh, yes, I know,” Crane’s smile was predatory, “and I’m counting on him coming to save his little pet.”

His palm pressed the side of your face into the pillow, keeping your neck extended even as you thrashed against the bed. The needle pierced the tender skin and Crane’s eyes glittered in the dim light as he released the drug into you. 

“You crazy bastard!” Your wrists were bleeding freely now, slow trickles running down your forearms and dripping onto the sheets as you continued to try and pull yourself free.

Whatever he gave you didn’t hit all at once. It started in your chest, warm and slow, and radiated outward, but warm grew into too hot all too quickly, curled around your lungs and ribs, and squeezed. Your breath stuttered on the next exhale. Part of you expected to see smoke trailing out between your lips. Liquid fire pooled low in your stomach and you were suddenly, painfully, aroused.

“What the fuck?”

Your heart pounded in your ears, overpowering Crane’s monologuing no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on it. Fire raced in your veins and you pulled against your restraints, sparks licking your wrists. 

Through the haze in your brain you could barely make out Crane talking about Lust and Fever and Sex and Orgasm and Death. Even firing on all cylinders, you didn’t know if you could find a good combination of those words. 

Something in the distance caught his attention and he grinned like a shark, all predator and sharp teeth. Crane knew what it meant too. 

“He’s gonna tear you apart,” you hissed. 

“Oh, on the contrary,” he spoke slowly and looked in your eyes, making sure you understood every word, a condescending lilt in his tone, “I think he’ll send me a thank you gift after this.”

He left with a chuckle that sent a chill down your spine even with the growing furnace inside you. 

With Crane out of sight, you squirmed to try and break the zip ties again but the new sensations had you gasping. Your wrists didn’t hurt so much anymore and what little pain made it through to your awareness landed just on the side of pleasurable.  The blanket underneath you rubbed against you everywhere, everywhere, and your cheeks flamed when you noticed the wetness in your panties. You tried to force yourself to lay still - to stop and think about your next move - but your hips rolled anyway, searching for friction you wouldn’t find. 

You squeezed your thighs together, chasing the orgasm you could feel rushing at you just beyond your reach. The coil snapped and it flowed through you like cool water down your parched throat. It broke the haze just briefly. You gasped a breath like coming up out of water.

If it was possible for you to blush further, you would’ve when you opened your eyes and were met with Bane’s. How much had he seen? 

The man stood over you, stoic as ever, and gave nothing away. He watched you silently, taking in everything.

“This is not one of his usual toxins.” He finally spoke. It wasn't a question but you shook your head anyway. 

“He said it was something he had been working on.” You swallowed hard, fighting a shiver. "He didn't start really talking until he had already drugged me and I couldn’t focus. Something about fever and sex and death but..." you trailed off, nervous and unwilling to really finish that sentence. Shaking your head was a mistake you learned as nausea hit you. “Needed a test subject.”

Bane nodded slowly, hard eyes glinting off the light as he looked around the room. “There’s a camera,” he mused. “He’s watching.”

“Sick fuck,” you seethed. 

Bane huffed out something that could’ve been a laugh and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. You startled both of you by moaning lowly. His touch was like a soothing balm and lit match against your nerves at the same time. 

His eyes were on your face but his fingers didn’t move.  

“Fuck, I’m sorry- I don’t know-,” you stuttered. “Can’t think- Too fucking hot.” You clenched your teeth, cutting off the half-formed thoughts you couldn’t stop.

Calloused fingers brushed across your forehead and you bit back a whimper. 

“You have a fever.”

You nodded, eyes shut tight. There was a heavy pause.

“You are…aroused.”

You turned your face away from him but nodded again, shame rocketing through you. Tears fell against your will.

“Please just get me out of here,” you whispered.

The zip ties snapped easily under his hands and you had to clamp down on your mind straying to thoughts of feeling those rough fingers on your skin again. Your core throbbed at the mental image alone. You couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together, breath hitching. Vaguely, you realized you were gasping out a string of apologies when Bane shushed you, just a hiss leaking out of his mask.

“You are not in control of your body. Do what you must.” The words came out stiff, barely contained anger tingeing them but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you.

Dark eyes met yours as you searched his face, needing to see if he was serious. His sincerity was open and unwavering. The weight of his hand settled on your stomach, the warmth of his palm bleeding into the coil inside you and snapping it just as soundly as the zip ties. 

Your eyes rolled back and you groaned as that cooling wave shook through you, quieter this time. 

“It will be easier if I carry you out but it may be…uncomfortable for you.”

“Do what you must,” you parroted his words with a weak smile, hoping for levity.

A silent nod was the only reply and he was wrapping you up in the blanket you had been laying on. The texture was scratchy and it insulated the heat of your skin but you bit your tongue. Strong arms lifted you effortlessly. You buried your face in the blanket and settled against his chest as he moved. 

It was a position you had found yourself in before. You had a habit of falling asleep in places you shouldn’t and he often carried you to a place that wouldn’t have your back or neck screaming at you when you woke up. On one particular occasion, you had fallen asleep slumped over on the couch in your apartment and floated to awareness being lifted and carried to your bedroom. You felt like a child again, protected and cared for. Your nose pressed into his jaw, just under the line of his mask. He had laid you gently on your bed, still unmade from the morning, and brought the duvet up to your chin. You had tried to fight your way to full consciousness.

“Stay,” you breathed, afraid he wouldn’t hear. Afraid that he would hear and leave anyway. After a beat, the other side of your bed dipped with his weight, half laying, half sitting up against the pillows. You had rolled into him, soaking up his warmth. Later, you would  blame pressing your face into his chest on the fact that you had still been on the wrong side of consciousness.

His hand tentatively rested on your shoulder as if he didn’t know what to do with it. You let out a light hum, hoping to reassure him. A smile almost slid over your lips when his palm slid down along your spine to settle at the center of your back. 

Just before you slipped back into sleep, you swore you felt him press his mask against the crown of your head. 

“Little one,” Bane’s voice brought you out of the fog in your brain, “Are you with me?” 

You blinked your eyes open and lifted your head from the blanket cocoon. 

“Always,” you replied. You became mildly aware that you were in your apartment but you didn’t remember how you got there. How long had you been lost in your head?

“My men are taking care of Crane,” he said. You both knew what he meant but the fewer specifics you knew, the better. “Barsad will make sure that nothing from the camera he had in that room will be seen by anyone.” His grip on you tightened. “He will never touch you again.”

He deposited you on your bed and was standing over you once again. He didn't show any outward emotion. You didn't know what to say or how. 

"I'm sorry." You said anyway. It came out small and weak. Hell, you weren't even sure what you were sorry for. Getting kidnapped? Not being able to get out of the situation yourself? 

Your head was too full of feelings you didn't understand. You couldn't think straight. You had never been more aware of your own body before. The lingering feeling of Bane’s arms around you, the godawful blanket. You swore you could feel your blood flowing in your veins. 

Light fingertips ghosted across your forehead, pressing lightly on the creases between your eyebrows, and your eyelids fluttered closed. You bit your lip. 

"Does it hurt when I do this?" He moved his hand from your forehead to your wrist. His thumb rubbing just under the wound that the zip tie left. 

You shook your head, not trusting your ability to make any noise that wasn't wholly embarrassing. 

"I need to hear you say it." 

You swallowed hard. "No, it doesn't hurt. It’s like my body can't decide if it feels amazing or like I'm holding it next to an open flame." You rushed out. 

“What do you need?” he asked after a heavy pause.

A simple question that had your head spinning. Rapid fire flashes of his large frame over you, under you, those rough hands all over you, inside you. You bit down on a moan, nearly biting through your lip.

“Just talk to me. Please.” It came out shaky and too vulnerable. 

His brows furrowed. “That will not help with the effects of the toxin.”

Resolutely keeping your lips shut tight, another tear escaped down your cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb. 

“I cannot just sit by and do nothing when you’re suffering.”

You shook your head, the action making your head swim. “I can’t ask that of you. I won’t.”

His hand settled on your stomach. The pressure sent waves through you. The fire in your core roaring anew.

“You don’t have to ask. You just have to let me.”

Your glassy, tired eyes met his dark, earnest ones as you searched for something, anything, that would give you reason to say no. You weighed the option of just letting the toxin do what it would instead of ruining what you and he had. 

But you couldn’t deny that you wanted what he was offering.

“Okay.” You nodded lightly. 

You hissed as he shifted the blanket off of you. It felt like sandpaper against your highly sensitive skin. His gaze flicked up to you but kept on his mission, lightly tracing his fingers up your thighs. It might've tickled a little if you had a better handle on your nerves. 

There was only a slight pause in his movements before he was bending down to pull his boots off and then joining you on the bed, kneeling in front of you. His eyes searched your face as he spread your thighs, placing one of your legs on either side of his hips. You fought down every bit of embarrassment you could feel burning red on your cheeks and looked away.

“No,” he spoke softly but clearly. A calloused finger under your chin turned you back to meet his gaze. “Don’t look away, little one. You need to stay present and tell me if I do anything to hurt you or if you need me to stop. I want to help, not cause more harm. Understand?”

Only after you gave a small nod did he release your chin and return his hands to your inner thighs, higher than before. His thumbs rubbing small circles mere inches from where you needed him.

His eyes caught on the damp patch darkening the fabric of your panties. He made a single slow pass over your center with his thumb. You bit down on the inside of your cheek and let out a rough exhale, your fists curling into the sheets.

“Try to relax,” he rumbled, gaze flicking up to your face and back down. “I understand this must be unpleasant for you but fighting the toxin will prolong the effects and may make it worse.”

A whine escaped your clenched teeth as you forced your muscles to relax. His thumb began slow, even circles over your clit, like a reward. Pleasure rose quickly now that you had stopped pushing it down. 

 “Nothing said or done here will leave this room,” he assured you. “You are safe to do what you need to get through this.” He hooked a finger around damp fabric and pulled your panties to the side. The first brush of a callused fingertip sent a jolt up your spine. “Tell me that you understand.”

Your hips rocked minutely, chasing his touch. “I understand.” 

“Good girl.”

His finger slid inside you in one push and your walls tightened around him, sending you over the edge again. You couldn't be embarrassed about the noise you made even if you tried.

The toxin’s haze faded marginally again. In all honesty, you had hoped that an orgasm brought on by someone else would have been all it would take but, of course, Crane’s concoctions are never that simple.

As many times as you indulged fantasies of Bane in your bed, though you would never admit it aloud, you didn't want it to happen like this. Not when it was only like an obligation for him. 

The finger steadily pumping inside you became two and the stretch brought you out of your thoughts with a whine. 

Bane slowed but didn’t stop. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just a lot,” you reassured him, moaning around the last word when picked up his pace again. “It’s like I’m feeling everything double or triple.”

“It’s good then?” 

He curled his fingers slightly, searching. 

“So good.” You choked on a gasp when he found the spot inside you that made your toes curl. Those rough fingertips massaged tight circles around it while his thumb copied the movement around your clit. 

Moans flowed from your lips unhindered. One of your hands reached down to clutch at his wrist while the other tightened in the sheets. 

You could feel the crest coming but it was just out of reach. Your head thrashed on the pillow, grinding your teeth. 

"Fuck, I can't. It's not-" you stopped with a whine, tears gathering in your eyes. Your hips rolled of their own accord in search of friction.

“It’s not enough,” he finished for you. 

"Crane told me that you'd send him a thank you gift for this." You blurted out. "Like this was something you wanted."

He froze. 

“He’s wrong, right? Of course he is,” you rambled, squeezing your eyes shut tight. “You don’t want this. Why the hell would you? I’m just me. An annoyance even on a good day, a hindrance on any other. I’m not-” 

Pressing his hand over your lips, he stopped your rambling. 

"Not like this." It was quiet but you heard it, you knew you did. Your gaze met his again and you just stared at him for a heartbeat then two, willing yourself to take a chance. Telling yourself it would be worth it. 

Fuck it. If it goes wrong, you can just blame it on the toxin.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling yourself further toward him. Your heat pressed against the obvious tent in the front of his pants. His hand fell from your lips as you dragged yourself up to him, close enough to share breath.

“Please.” You ran your nose along his cheek and quickly unhooked your bra. His eyes flicked down briefly once the lace was removed and laying on the floor.

“Little one,” he murmured.

"You're the only person I would trust with this." You pressed a firm kiss to the front of his mask.

A harsh breath hissed out from behind the grate. He took only a brief pause to gather himself before moving off the bed stripping quickly. Your eyes raked over every inch of newly exposed skin. Lightly tanned, criss-crossed with scars, and stretched over his wide frame and well-built muscles. You’d seen him shirtless before under much different circumstances and it was a sight you had guiltily used on nights when you were alone and you knew this was something that you would add to your shameful late night fantasies until the day you died. 

His cock slapped against his stomach as his pants hit the floor. The sight alone had a whimper crawling up your throat. He was thick, flushed red and leaking, and you couldn’t tell if the need to feel him inside you was more the toxin or your own. 

Your breath caught when his fingertips curled into the top hem of your panties. His gaze held yours until the lace joined his pants on the floor and he returned to his spot between your thighs.

He wrapped a hand around himself, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Are you with me?” His eyes searched yours.

“Always,” you breathed. 

He filled you slowly, measured, careful, and watching your face the entire time. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you and he was acutely aware of the size difference between the two of you. His fingers flexed against your thighs, keeping you still in his grasp. 

Even with the toxin’s effects on you, the stretch of Bane filling you had a twinge of discomfort filtering through the pleasure otherwise washing over you. 

He finally bottomed out and you let out a low groan. You couldn’t decide where to keep your hands and they flitted from his shoulders to the bedsheets to his forearms to his abs, anything you could touch. Maybe if you found something to hold on to, you could keep yourself from floating away. 

Bane grunted as you clenched around him and minutely ground his hips into you. 

“Shit, move please,” your fingers dug into his forearms. 

You expected him to be rough and fast. Simply chasing release with his mission as a sole focus. But this was something else entirely. He was still focused but his mission was you, not just getting off. He was curled over you, forehead pressed into your shoulder, caging you in with his forearms and rolling his hips into you. It felt amazing.

But it wasn’t enough. You could tell he was holding back, even if it was for your sake, and, if this was the only time you got to experience Bane like this, you wanted all of him.

“Bane, baby, please.” You gripped the back of his neck and pulled his face up from its hiding place. Flicking your eyes up to meet his wild ones, you planted a firm kiss onto his mask, running the tip of your tongue along the grate. “I’m not gonna break.” You dug your heels into his ass, urging him on. His eyes darkened at your words, pupils already blown wide. His hips snapped forward with a grunt, forcing a gasp from between your lips. He levered up on his knees, towering over you, as he pulled out almost entirely and wrapped your hips in a bruising grip. 

A growl slid out from behind his mask as he looked down at you.

“Fuck yes,” you moaned out. Your eyes rolled back when he filled you again, impossibly deeper than before. 

Long gone was the caring pace he had set before. Every one of your favorite fantasies of rough sex with Bane couldn’t compare to the real thing. Part of you was already excited to see the vibrant bruises you’d find on your hips later. 

Bane’s angle was perfect, the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot with devastating precision. 

“Oh fuck, right there, please.” Your fingers curled around his wrists and your back arched up off the bed. 

You bit your lip hard to try and stop the string of embarrassing whines escaping with every powerful thrust. 

“No,” something akin to a snarl clawed out of Bane’s throat.

He pinned your wrists above your head, holding you fast with one hand. He ran the thumb of his other over your bottom lip, spit-slicked and bitten red, and pulled it from between your teeth. 

“I want to hear every single noise of pleasure you make,” he growled. 

You caught his thumb between your teeth and curled your tongue around it. His fiery gaze dropped to your lips as you sucked, drawing the calloused pad deeper into your mouth.

“I’ve heard those pretty sounds fall out of your lips countless times, I’ve heard you call my name at night, don’t you dare hide them from me now.”

He hooked his thumb behind your teeth and pulled down. A hard snap of his hips forced a loud cry from between your lips. 

“Good girl.” He chuckled darkly.

He released your jaw and trailed his hand down your neck. His fingers found your nipple, spit-slick thumb circling the bud before pinching it between rough fingers. You squirmed beneath him as he twisted and pulled, the bite of pain only serving to amplify the pleasure coursing in your blood. He showed the same treatment to your other nipple and you fought weakly against the hold he had on your wrists. 

“Please, fuck, please,” you moaned. At this point, you didn’t even know what you were begging for. Your head was fuzzy with the tightening of the coil in your stomach. Each drag of his cock inside you, each grind against your clit, feeling wholly and solely overwhelmed by the man above you, nothing else existed outside this moment. 

“Let go, little one,” he purred. He reached down and rubbed tight circles over your clit. “Give it to me. Let me feel you come on my cock.”

You screamed his name as the knot in your core snapped hard and your vision went white. Bane snarled and buried himself to the hilt finding his own release as you lost yourself in the waves of your orgasm crashing one after another. 

Floating back to yourself, you felt a firm body under your cheek and tentative fingertips tracing along your back. 

The toxin had burned itself out, no longer smoldering in your core. Now, you were afraid. Was all that just because of the toxin? Had Bane just reacted to you? Of course, he had offered but what if none of it really meant anything to him? Hell, it probably didn’t. Just a means to an end.

You didn’t realize you had started shivering until Bane moved you to lay over him and wrapped his arms and the duvet around you. 

You slid your hands under his shoulders and pressed your face into his neck. 

“Are you with me?” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

A beat of silence and his arms tightened around you. 

“Always.”

The talk that both of you knew needed to happen, could wait just a little while longer. For now, you were content to stay in the moment. You placed a slow line of kisses down his neck and pressed your nose into the juncture of his shoulder instead. 

“Sleep now, little one,” he rumbled beneath you. 

Just before unconsciousness took you, you felt him press his mask into the crown of your head. 

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Old Therebefore 🐍🕊️ | A Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place after the events of S&B S2

My masterlists

Characters & Pairings: gang leader!reader x Crows (platonic). Kaz Brekker x reader (slight tension)

content warnings: profanity, mentions of violence and death, typical SOC themes. | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4k

Premise: it’s not often Kaz Brekker needs assistance to a job involving anyone other than his Crows. Yet, there is always a first. When a job comes involving not only a high cash prize but also chances of coming out alive slim, Kaz accepts it is out of his skill level. So, what does he do? Take a risk by recruiting his top rival since Pekka Rollins was run out of town….she’s got the charm of a snake with a voice of a songbird. 

Note: so as you can tell by the title of the imagine and song linked, I saw the new hunger games movie (back in November) and literally could not stop thinking about this song/scene. Then of course my hyperfixations like to collide and wallah: here is the end result.

Disclaimer as always: the song and lyrics belong to Suzanne collins and all the SOC characters belong to Leigh Bardugo

---------

“You know, Kaz, I know better than to question you on most things,” Jesper scanned his surroundings, voice low with slight concern. “But I can’t help but wonder why you’ve decided to drag us to the ‘Snake Pit’ tonight.” The sharpshooter sipped his glass of rum after a close inspection, “mind telling us.” 

Seated around him, Inej, Nina, and Wylan expressions bore the same unease. All on high alert the moment Kaz led them through the doors and down the spiral staircase into the Barrel’s infamous Snake Pit. 

Located deep on the opposite side of the Crow Club, the Snake Pit was an underground bar/club. Home of the legendary crime gang, the Blood Serpents. They’d been around since Kaz was 15, their leader to have been the same age as him. Yet the public knew very little of the notorious boss. Only by their code name. 

The Snake Charmer

Of course, this information made Kaz lose his mind at times. Unable to identify his anonymous rival who’s bested him on multiple occasions. If the opportunity arose, Kaz would pay any amount of kruge to find out who the Snake Charmer was. It’d been well over a decade. His patience was running thin.

Finally, the wait would pay off in the form of a messenger boy. 

Knowing Inej was too recognizable, Kaz sent a young member of the Dregs--who was under the radar to the other gangs--to infiltrate the Snake Pit the week prior. The boy returned hours later to relay a crucial piece of information. Now, Kaz was to test that theory. 

Clutching his cane, the crime boss did not spare a glance to his fellow Crows the second they entered the Pit. Even when they took claim to a rounded booth in a far corner by the bar. His attention was occupied. Analyzing the club and its features. Mentally noting the Blood Serpent members, who were identifiable by their red snake tattoos on their hands. 

One of which was the bartender that served them drinks. A young woman about their age, she wore a maroon pin-stripped 5 piece suit although the blazer was forgone. The tattoo was on full display. Kaz assessed her lingering on him when she pushed the tray of drinks toward Jesper. Likely recognizing him and by default the rest of the Crows. The bartender didn’t say anything after, only giving a nod before moving to the next customer. 

To the other Crows, they thought Kaz’s intense stare on the bartender was either because he thought she was attractive or making note she was just another member of the Serpents. But, what they did not know was Kaz figuring out if she was the Snake Charmer.

“A woman?” he questioned the boy, narrowing his eyes. “You are telling me the Snake Charmer--leader of the Blood Serpents--is a woman and works under the guise of an employee at the Snake Pit. Are you positive?”

The boy nodded profusely, “Yes, Mr. Brekker. I can assure you it was no man singing that song. She sounded like a siren if I must say. She calmed the snakes like it was nothing-- I see why they call her Snake Charmer.”

So a woman was responsible for a lot of Kaz’s failures. Not to mention winning the territory he’d hoped to gain when Pekka was defeated. They’d come to a settled agreement through a middle man. An action that annoyed Kaz. But he knew better than to wage war with the Snake Charmer. 

So far the women in the gang he’s managed to identify besides the bartender were two serving girls, a door bouncer, and two poker dealers. A total of six. Of the men, most of them were standing on the walls and mingling along the floor. 

Bet she didn’t expect him to enter her den. 

The Snake Pit was exactly like what the boy described. Dark wood floors and walls up to the high ceilings. Dangling chandeliers, poker tables, two bars on either side. Booths aligned the walls. The most notable and unique trait, however, was the glass snake enclosure right smack in the middle of the floor. It was cylinder shaped at the bottom, lining the floor to the ceiling where it branched out on either side to resemble a tree. Plants and dirt filled it. 

As did ten serpents. Ranging from tiny garden snakes to a python.  

Jesper cringed when his eyes landed on it. Wylan looked deathly afraid. Nina found it amusing. Inej thought it was fitting. Kaz was pleased to see it. To him, that was ammunition.

Kaz answered Jesper with one word that told the whole story, “Business.” 

“What business could you possibly have with the Snake Charmer?” Inej questioned, hand on her side close to her knives. “Don’t you think we should be discussing the plan?”

“And we are,” Kaz rebutted, leaning into the booth with his gaze set on the enclosure. “We’re here to flush out the Snake Charmer.” 

Jesper choked on his drink, meanwhile Nina and Inej looked at Kaz like he was crazy. “You’re fooling us aren’t you?” “Boss, jokes aren’t really your thing--.” “You’re insane, Kaz, if you believe that’ll happen.”

“You see that enclosure?” He cut off their rambling. All responded with a look of, ‘Of course we see the ginormous Snake habitat in the middle of the club full of our enemies.’ Kaz nodded to it, “we need to destroy it.”

Once again, Jesper choked. This time on his saliva. “You’ve lost it,” he ignored the glare from his boss, “Did going through the fold change you, Kaz? Clearly you’re not actually thinking we let loose a dozen snakes,” he leans forward to whisper, “we don’t even know if they’re venomous. If their bites don’t kill us, surely their owner will.” 

Analyzing Kaz, Inej lowered her tone, “what are you not telling us, Kaz?”

Giving one last scan of his surroundings, Kaz addressed his Crows with the truth of why he brought them to the Snake Pit. “I have a lead on who the owner of this establishment is.” Their reactions were immediate, Kaz continued. “A week ago I sent a young messenger boy here to scout out the place--find anything that could help identify the Serpents boss. During closing he snuck into one of their storage closets,” Kaz attempted to locate said closet, somewhere behind one of the bars. 

Kaz paid close attention to the bartender and the poker dealers. “At some point in the night, one of the snakes got loose. Or,” he turned to Jesper and Inej, “my theory is they use those snakes as a means to get information on people.”

“Great,” Nina sighs, “you want us to free the Serpent's torture method. Well done, Brekker. Excellent plan if I must say.” The heartrender received a glare, but Kaz did not entertain it further.

“As I was saying,” his tone was stern, making the others hold onto any additional comments. “The boy overheard the panic of one of the Serpents. Turns out, the Snake Charmer doesn’t take kindly to her pets being mishandled.”

“I can see why,” Jesper mutters, glancing at the enclosure. 

Kaz gripped his cane, watching the female bouncer approach the bartender and exchange words. “He then heard a woman’s voice. Singing.”

Wylan raised a brow, “Singing?”

“Whatever it was, it calmed the snake. Allowed her to return the animal back to its case. The boy said he heard arguing between a couple members who hoped to clean up their mistake before the boss discovered it.” Kaz shifted in his seat, “didn’t end well for them.”

“Did you get a look at her face?” Kaz peered out his office window, facing the direction of the Snake Pit’s location. Moonlight shining down, almost as though the Saints wanted him to see the building. Behind him, he heard the boy clear his throat.

“No, Sir.” He stuttered, tensing at the sight of Kaz lowering his head. “The door didn’t have any cracks or holes I could see through. I tried looking underneath, but only got a glimpse of their shoes.”

Kaz pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought. “What happened after she finished singing? How’d you get out?”

“Once the snake was handled, she ordered them to her office. She sounded….calm, but you know how you just know when someone is masking their anger. That’s how it was when she addressed them.” Kaz hummed, indicating he understood the boy’s implication. Considering he was guilty of such.

“And then?”

“I waited a few minutes until I was sure they were gone. The direction they went sounded like it was the far left of the club--opposite side of the spiral staircase that’s both the entrance and exit. I think there's a secret back entrance where they were because when I came out it was completely empty.”

Kaz found the secret back entrance. Camouflaged as a bookcase. He was able to spot the hinges carefully placed to where the light made it difficult to see them. But Kaz Brekker knew the art of illusion in the back of his hand. 

“This is what’s going to happen,” he became serious. The Crows lean in to hear him while maintaining their alert. “We need to expose those snakes from their enclosure. They’ll be our bait. From there we wait. If my theory is correct, those snakes only answer to their master. Or charmer in this case.” Kaz paused to locate the female workers in the club. “Her act as an employee is a ruse.”

Jesper followed his gaze, once again becoming riddled with unease. “You’re implying the Snake Charmer is either the bouncer who let us in, the gal who served our drinks, the serving girls working the floor or one of the poker dealers?”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying, Jesper.”

“Why would she do that?”

Nina snorted, sipping at her whiskey, “Isn’t it obvious?” she didn’t wait for an answer, “no one would pay a second glance to a worker. They are either too drunk or too naive to assume the pretty bartender or serving girl is the boss of one of Ketterdam’s deadly gangs.” She gestured to the serving girl closest to her. “My money’s on her being the Charmer.”

Jesper scoffed, “no way. To be a ghost and retain anonymity all these years you have to have a great poker face.” He states the obvious, “it’s one of the dealers.” 

Inej rolled her eyes, “are you seriously making this a competition?”

“You don’t think it could be the bouncer?” Wylan asked, scratching the back of his neck to relax the tension he felt. 

“No,” Jesper replied with a wave of a hand, “that would be obvious, don’t you think? Although….,” he rubs his chin, “considering they let us in -- and we know how much you and the Snake Charmer have been rivals so to speak all these years, boss -- you don’t think by letting us through that we walked into some sort of trap?”

Inej immediately straightened, “Jes has a point.” Nina stopped munching on her calamari, waiting for Kaz. She too realized the potential threat.

Kaz, however, remained relaxed. “It’s not the bouncer, but I know the Charmer has already been notified of our presence.” Wylan’s worry intensified.

“What makes you think that?”

“As we’ve been talking I noticed all the women working the club have interacted at some point. Some making it obvious to point us out,” He was referring to the bouncer nodding her head to the one serving girl. “Others are more discreet.” That was to the poker dealer and bartender. 

“And yet,” Jesper groans. “You still want us to make a scene. We are literally in a place crawling with snakes--pun not really intended.” the table rolled his eyes at him, save for Wylan who found the joke amusing. “Point is….you want to unleash the Snake Charmer’s serpents into a club full of innocent people--.”

“Innocent,” Nina scoffed under her breath. 

“What if one of us gets bitten?” Jesper kept his gaze on Kaz with mild concern. “I don’t believe for a second the Snake Charmer will kindly hand over the antidote to save our lives. She’ll take pleasure in watching us suffer a horrible death.” Picturing the scene, the sharpshooter downs the rest of his drink, cringing in the process. “Saints, this is not how I pictured I’d die.”

Kaz rolled his eyes, “No one’s dying today. No mourners.” Everyone glanced at each other.

“No funerals.”

“Right then,” It was time to work. “Here’s what we’ll do….”

A prayer slipped past his lips before Jesper inhaled deeply and let the bullet fly. The sound caused gasps from around him, though he was quick to hide the weapon in its holster before one noticed.

“Who did that?!” came a shout from the bouncer. Patrons were already making their way toward the exit. Not wanting to get caught in a crossfire. 

Jesper occupied himself with his rum, glancing over his shoulder to Inej, who signaled to him the bullet did not penetrate the glass completely. Sighing, he downed the contents, waited until it was clear, and shot again. 

The second bullet hit the glass with a loud clunk. Once again alerting the occupants of the Snake Pit. Many searched themselves for any sign of blood for fear they were shot by an unknown assailant. 

“C’mon,” Jesper whispered, peering at the enclosure. He saw the evidence of his bullet, a chip in the glass near the bottom. If he could time it right, without someone getting in the way, he’d hit the mark. 

Meanwhile employees of the club were trying to calm the crowd, “everyone please remain--.” Another shot rang out, more shouts echoing. Kaz’s patience was running thin. Their door to escape started to close as he noticed the security begin to close in on the Crows. No doubt suspecting they were to blame for the chaos. 

Kaz Brekker coming to the Snake Pit with his most trusted advisors for only a drink? Yeah right.

Then, almost in slow motion, the sound best described as ice cracking filled his ears. All eyes turned to the enclosure. Fear surfacing as they witnessed spiderwebs painting the glass. Then all hell broke loose when the glass gave way, allowing the beasts freedom from their isolation. 

Screams ensued. People climbing from the floors onto tables and chairs. Hissing from the snakes intensified the hysteria. Kaz even found himself moving when the python pivoted in his direction. Jesper of course found himself on top of a chair the moment the glass shattered. Inej was high up on a balcony on the opposite side of the club. How did she get up there? No one knew. Wyalan was close to Jesper. He too found safety on a stool. Nina meanwhile was listening to the heartbeats around here. The number decreased each time a patron made it up the staircase and out the door. 

Seconds passed and no sight of the Snake Charmer. Kaz was getting worried. Fearing the plan was a failure. His worry increased when he found himself scurrying on top of a poker table. Distracted with trying to find the workers he suspected of being the Snake Charmer to realize the cobra had got close to him. Had he not acted fast, the man’s leg would’ve fallen victim to its fangs. Catching Jesper’s eye, they shared the concern evident in their expressions. Wondering just how the fuck they were going to escape the situation. 

Suddenly his prayers were answered in the form of an angelic voice. Causing the screams to disappear…..

“You’re heading for heaven, 

The sweet old hereafter, 

And I’ve got one foot in the door. 

But before I can fly up, 

I’ve loose ends to tie up, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore.”

Heads turned, facing the direction of the sound. Their expressions turned into pure shock. Kaz may have had his suspicions, but it still came as a shock to discover he was right all along. 

Ketterdam’s notorious crime boss, leader of the Blood Serpents….was the Snake Pit’s bartender. 

Walking around the bar, crunching against the glass of broken bottles on the floor from the hysteria of customers fleeing to get away from the snakes, the woman kept her gaze on slithering animals. The hissing continued as she inched closer, however she did not seem fazed at all. Her singing continued.

“I’ll be along, 

When I’ve finished my song, 

When I’ve shut down the band, 

When I’ve played out my hand, 

When I’ve paid all my debts, 

When I have no regrets, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

The hissing got quieter. The animals turning so they were in line with the woman. Slithering slowly but surely toward her. Confirming to everyone she was their master. Their charmer.

Off to the side, a few of the Blood Serpents rushed in with crates. Pushing people aside. Meanwhile the woman got to her knees, leveling down to the snakes who were now moving toward her. Eyes locked, face serious. The Snake Charmer was obviously trying to keep herself together. But Kaz felt the rage seep off of her. 

“I’ll catch you up, 

When I’ve emptied my cup, 

When I’ve worn out my friends, 

When I’ve burned out both ends, 

When I’ve cried all my tears, 

When I’ve conquered my fears, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

The snakes smaller in size slithered up her outstretched arms. Covering both limbs in a tangle of scales. One slithering up to encase her neck, almost like a necklace. The Cobra took claim to her waist. The python circled her, almost like it contemplated joining its fellow serpents. 

Around Kaz, he made out the faint gasps of customers who had yet to depart. Glancing around, he witnessed them all in states of shock and awe. Even his Crows were at a loss of words. 

As was he.

The Snake Charmer’s voice turned strong. Echoing through the entire club as she belted out the next verse. Bringing chills to everyone’s arms.

“I’ll bring the news, 

When I’ve danced off my shoes, 

When my body’s closed down, 

When my boat’s run around, 

When I’ve tallied the score,

 And I’m flat on the floor, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

Rising from the ground, she was covered by the creatures. Her python has wrapped itself around her leg. Its tail was on the floor while its head perched by where the cobra had secured itself on her belt. From the neck down the Snake Charmer was a sight to behold. Revealing why the nickname was not only because she was the leader of a gang filled with snakes. 

It was because she was gifted with the talent of charming their namesake.

Moving toward her subordinates holding crates, no doubt to keep the animals contained, the woman passionately sang the final verse. Giving it all she had. 

“When I’m pure like a dove, 

When I’ve learned how to love.”

Tone dropping, she leaned to lower the snakes into the crates. Gently as though they were newborn babies. Kaz caught her stoke the pythons head, her singing so low it was good the place was dead quiet. 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, the snakes were safely stored in the crates. Lids dropping shut with the gang members hurrying from the floor to transport them to another room. No one moved. Any and all eyes focused on the woman in the pinstripe suit. Back turned to the Crows and other patrons, but from the fearful look of her door bouncers, everyone silently prayed they’d make it to the morning. 

Moving her neck in a circle, a low crack from the joints that had been stiff, she slowly turned to face the audience. A clenched jaw and fury in her eyes made it clear what was going through her mind. Especially to Kaz, who was fighting to not look away when she instantly met his gaze.

Oh, she knew alright.

“Well…” the Charmer’s tone sent chills along the Crows' bodies. “You’ve certainly got my attention, Mr. Brekker.” Her spite was evident. Complete rage. Likely planning every means of torture she wished to bestow on her rival and his comrades. 

It was so quiet. So thrilling. Nobody dared to move a muscle. Patrons watching the stare down between the King, and now the unmasked Queen, of the Barrel. It was captivating yet terrifying. Wondering who would make the first move, and if it will end in a blood bath.

Then she snapped, “Everyone out!!” The floor cleared in seconds. Leaving only Serpents and Crows. They knew better than to attempt an escape. Plus the moment their boss addressed Kaz, the Serpents had circled them to prevent any sudden attack. 

Kaz remained composed. Watching closely as the Snake Charmer moved to the bar to pour herself a drink. “Before I kill you, Kaz Brekker, and your little birds too,” she did not look at him, paying attention to the liquid filling the glass. He tightened his jaw. “I want to hear you explain to me why you brought yourselves to my club,” bringing the glass to her lips, she downed half the alcohol in one gulp. Drawing her eyes up to make contact with him, “And destroyed my babies' home.”

Her footsteps echoed, walking toward the center of the floor where Kaz stood. “You’re a smart man.” She took another sip, this time slower. “Not only did you manage to draw me into the light, but you knew exactly how to do so.” A smirk plastered on Kaz’s face. A bold move considering the threat lingering at displaying his smugness to the Serpent Queen. Her lips were in a thin line, “What brings you to my den?”

Straightening his posture, Kaz stepped closer. Their distance is only a mere foot from one another. Making everyone--Crows and Serpents alike--suffocating from the tension between the two. 

“You won’t be killing us tonight, Charmer.” If only he knew her real name. Only having her title felt like she had some reign on him. Superior in a sense. The whole Barrel knew him as Dirtyhands, but Kaz Brekker had his own reputation. For her, people can now put a face to the name Snake Charmer. A beautiful woman with the voice of an angel. So powerful it made snakes bend to her will. 

Also, people would be shaken by the fact the deadly gang leader served them drinks during their visits to the Snake Pit. Hidden in plain sight. Listening to them spill their drunken secrets. 

Kaz leaned closer, the scent of her perfume hitting his nostrils. Jasmine. A flower known to attract snakes. He understood why she wore it. The smell was alluring. As was her presence, but Kaz dismissed the thought as quick as it came. “Doing so will result in you losing an important job I’m willing to negotiate your assistance on. Believe me, the reward is more than generous--enough for the both of us to share.” Now he got her attention, confirmed by the way her head slightly tilted, brow raised. 

“Humor me, Brekker.”

“Have you ever heard of jurda parem?”

[gege-wondering-around]

Random Snippet

cause why there are no more tagging on wips wednesdays and such for me, i'm a sad author now (im just being dramamtic, do what you want i'll post my brainrot regardless <3)

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“What a bitch for attention, I never thought Hale would be into that…” 

But little did those lowlife men know about the secret untangling before their very one blinded eyes.

Sat on the man’s lap, perhaps or not, just for the sake of the act, softly spoken orders swam through the boss’ ears, chanting choruses of victories yet to arrive but sure to come; especially so if led by the quiet guy crossing his legs so deliciously on the newfound dominating spot he had acquired.

“Send them down to the barracks, down the sewers; through the underground they should all arrive without much hitch to the target.” 

What plans his doll could craft, high of a labor almost close to his own and for which he thrived to witness in actions, uncaring of possible contingencies; Derek would do anything to achieve to behold that painter’s smirk his boy made anytime some sort of joy occupied his veins.

Besides, restraining himself from giving such a divine doll everything he wanted was impossible; he’d do anything if it meant having Stiles cradling arms around his neck, almost relaxing while on display for everyone to envy, being caressed with everyone looking. His boy seemed to control his blushing cheeks only on business occasions, or he’d be flattered by the rough pals stroking his thigh.

Still, Stiles wanted to test how far he could pursue Derek to act according to his will, empowering his position for everyone to see with unfazed eyes; some more blood on his slim hands wouldn’t be too bad, cold season was about to arrive and they had yet another hour to pass by.

Another thin, although pleading wish drilled through the man’s ears: “I don’t like how they speak of your doll, Sir.” 

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@patolemus my sweet, adored moot, this is very little but i hope you'll enjoy this while you wait so patiently for the whole thing to be born (thanks again for your offering children🫂)

and since who says i can't, if anyone wanna post a 'random snippet' please do - and im gonna tag people cause why not - , still who can stop me from tagging my beloveds anyway as well @dontcallpanic @hellameyers @patolemus @seaweed-water @demonicfaerie @oldefashioned @jadezdominion @sterekloverforever

so, if you wanna join in the 'random snippet' please do!

p.s. if you saw any mistakes, you didn't <3

[hollow-lime-green]

Can you tell us a little about your D&D stuff? -sincerely an avid dnd player who loves hearing about other people’s characters

aaaa sure!

briefly - when I do actually get to be a player, I fucking love playing rogues. god i am so basic and easy, catch me playing a tiefling/changeling rogue 100% of the time. i am a power gamer though, and i'll take a lot of feats to do all sorts of weird bullshit (and the 2024 thief buffs are going to make me insufferable. fast hands has always been my favorite ability in the game, and now thief is finally good for real and not just by dm fiat).

i like every class except artificer and monk (fine just not for me), but rogues have my heart. in every game, skyrim to borderlands to d&d, I like being a pain in the ass from a long distance away. i don't get to play a lot, so i don't have a lot of characters that i'm super tied to, but right now, i'm essentially playing a cabal of tiefling/changeling rogues (one for every subclass) that are running the underground of my friend's city in a westmarch style progressive series of oneshots he hosts at our local game store.

mainly, though, i have always been a perma-dm of my groups, although I am trying to find a group that rotates better because as it turns out, being a perma-dm can absolutely fuck with your interpersonal relationships. i had a really awesome d&d group in undergrad that I DM'd for, and I have a lot of great memories from that. we played on campus for the first two years, then on roll20 for a few more years after that. unfortunately, as most d&d groups do, we died to the BBEG known as Adult Life Schedules.

since then, I've been DMing semi-regularly at a local game shop, sometimes playing, and I've made a lot of in-person friends. we play both at and outside of the shop, but almost all one-shots, although when I eventually move away from this current location, I will probably try to drag them into an online campaign. lots of dm talk and pictures under the cut, since this will be kind of long. :)

Props!

as a dm, i am very prop focused, i love a good prop. it's the engineer girlie in me. sat night I ran a 12th level one shot for my friends to test out some of the new 2024 rules at high level, and what I'm most proud of was my hidden magnet bridge (see below) - this is a progress pic but I do generally keep my sets pretty minimal aesthetically. anyway this was super fun because i set it up as this precarious bridge that they needed to get across and do some puzzles (hence the set), and then i ambushed them with the hidden magnets (actual reason for the set).

this is one of my faves from maaaaany years ago. i could do it better if I tried it again, but it's tough. this was for an encounter where an enemy was locally changing the direction of gravity, so the set rotated. it was surprisingly stable but difficult to play on due to the fact that you have like 270 degrees of the table that can see and then whoever is behind the wall (the dm) can't see shit. this was during my in-person UG years, so baby engineer but still making it work.

this is something I've done more recently that is more minimalist but insanely effective as a minigame. i had some players navigating through a space field, so they had to plot a course through this minefield and peel off the tape stickers one by one to see if they hit a danger. again, left is a progress pic. they all got blacked out. the right one was actually my dm key during the session lol, so I knew what they were gonna hit before they hit it.

I do a lot of mini prop pieces to go on top of my battle map as terrain, mostly cardboard just to give height and make things a bit more dynamic. and i'll usually have some lair action that rotates or takes away some of that terrain. one other thing I'm playing around with is this plexiglass transparent overlay designed for water combat, so I can put biiiiiig bad guys underneath the party. that one is for a oneshot based on the game DREDGE (which I highly recommend by the way - fishing survival cozygame with an eldritch monstrous flair). this lighthouse works as a sanity indicator, so as the party loses sanity (due to the eldritch fish), I can change its color.

i have no idea how i've run this game like 7 times and yet I can't find any pictures of it, but I have a one-shot that is based on Potion Permit (another farming sim cozygame) where the players collect these tiny cardboard tetris pieces and have to use them to complete tetris piece recipes to make potion and Save The Town From Illness! players love a prop, players love a minigame, and i love running those things as well.

Characters!

I have a lot of DMPCs that I love from my long campaigns, but DMPCs can be irritating, so i have shifted away from character-driven things for my oneshots. when I go back to doing campaigns, I'm going to try to do them better? I don't know, getting people invested in OCs whether it's writing or ttrpg is always sort of a challenge. players get invested in the bonds between the party but not often in their actual NPCs. So I'm not going to yap about them too much, but I'll list the concepts of my fave DMPCs:

blind bard who sees through a force field cantrip like cat whiskers - later becomes a seer (like divination) at the cost of losing his blindsight due to Player-Caused Apocalypse. becomes an unwilling consort to an archdevil who rules the wastelands after Player-Caused Apocalypse.

red hag who used a wish spell to free herself of pacts of loyalty but as a consequence cannot form lasting relationships with any creature, and cannot wish again. trying to make a Deck of Many Things to get more wishes and fix this (doomed)

half-fey archer with the mantle of the summer court trying to avenge her parents killed by the winter court, warrior softened by the touch of a woman (autumn fey cottagecore mom friend with an aussie accent). they were fun because the party actually got really invested in them and they got to complete their love story :)

spellthief rogue champion of the gods caught in a messy 'the parents are fighting' situation where the aspects of law and chaos fight. she is going to make a return when i start my next campaign because it's going to be a time loop situation, and she'll be the one resetting the timeline and trying to make off-screen changes (killing monarchs, planting magic items) to affect the future.

[suzukiblu]

WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

Kon is too trans for this pregnancy shit

the one where Clark is trans and Kon is not

transfemme Kon and her Amazon soulmoms

Cassie has a sexuality crisis, Kon has a gender one, and Circe makes everything worse

the one where Kryptonians have omegaverse genders, but nobody told Match

( why yes this week is WIP Wednesday: Sex And Gender Is Weird And Complicated Edition™ )

snippet from "Kon is too trans for this pregnancy shit":

Kon slams his bedroom door just shy of hard enough to crack the doorframe, melts the pregnancy test in his hand into slag with his heat vision, and then throws its remnants into his trash can and hides in his bed. Because he’s pregnant. Because he’s an idiot. An idiot who is pregnant. Pregnantly. 

Fucking Christ alive, how could he be this fucking stupid?! 

Just–Kon has fucked up a whole lot of times in his life. This time is probably the worst time that didn't get somebody else hurt, though. Well, like. Not hurt-hurt. 

Somebody is definitely getting hurt here. 

Kon kind of just . . . doesn't tell people that he's . . . that he isn't technically . . . 

He flirts? A lot? Like, a lot more than he really should. But he flirts with girls a lot. And he is very, very careful about how close he lets those girls get. And he . . . and he . . . 

Just–when he actually wants laid, when he really gets the itch, he doesn't go out as Superboy.

There's a reason he never got anywhere with Cassie, after all. Or with Tana or Knockout. Or with . . . anyone he ever actually, like . . . gave an actual fuck about the opinion of or was gonna see again. 

He’s not a real guy, after all, so . . . so how could he have? He’s not . . . 

When Cadmus was still a thing, he didn't have to worry so much. It wasn't hard to get treatment and whatever, and his files were all very firmly locked down. And when Cadmus went underground, Serling deleted all those files and hooked him up with a little machine that replicates hybrid-appropriate T before she cleared out, because Serling is the fucking best like that and literally the one true ally, as far as Kon's concerned, so . . . yeah. And the replicator has mercifully kept working for him, at least so far, so all he's ever had to do was hide the thing in the back of his closet and make sure the Kents never catch him pulling any of the blue K needles out of their little lead-lined case or injecting himself with said needles. Fuck knows what they'd think if they ever did. 

Probably that he was a drug addict or something. That seems like the most logical conclusion for them to jump to. They sure as shit know he's not diabetic or anything like that, so . . . yeah. 

They'd definitely think he was a drug addict. 

He's sure Clark would, if nothing else. 

Although that'd probably be less of a disaster than this, really. At least if he was an addict, he could go to rehab or something. For this . . . 

What is he supposed to do about this?

[busycucumbermelon]

Five vampire siblings, with one obsession

Summary : you never thought that your standoff-ish attitude and how you learned to behave at Sunshine Academy would backfire on you, especially in this way: having five people obsessed with you was far from easy.

Warning: blood,broken bones, very traumatized reader, vampires, threatening, sketchy jobs/illegal jobs, tell me if I missed any

Description of a Demi humans just in case Demi-humans once looked like animals, but have morphed over generations into human-like beings with animalistic features. story starts below this.I hope you love it or at least like it.🥰😊

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Author note

If you want a series or something with these characters, please give me ideas or requests as I'm not really sure what to do with them. Additionally, if you see that I have misspelled any names or the spelling isn't similar, please let me know as I'm unsure how to properly spell them and have been winging it myself.

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Since you were six, you lived at Sunshine Academy, trained with Demi-human to serve owners. Occasionally, they allowed humans for tests, experiments, or their underground fighting ring, where many patrons enjoyed watching humans being pummeled to the ground. You survived it all, but the Academy decided to sell you off since you weren't making enough money for them. Everyone knew you'd survive, which ultimately led you to your current situation.

With your best friend becoming a  servant, to two of your five new owners - although you preferred to call them kidnappers - you struggled to adapt to this new life as one of their prized possessions.

Sadly, your indifference toward pain, your fighting skills, your ability to quickly solve problems, and your inability to be vulnerable with anyone besides your best friend - their servant - ultimately ended up pushing them all to the point of obsession. In their minds, you had no flaws except for that one: you didn't know how to be vulnerable with anyone other than your best friend. To them, you were the perfect plaything, and they used your skills and talents for their own benefit.

You also had a good mouth on you, and you weren't afraid to argue back with anyone, especially if you knew you were in the right. This often resulted in all of them being at each other's throats, which could be seen as both a win and a loss for them, and you.

This was a good opportunity to teach them how to share, which of course annoyed all of them. The only reason they were all together was because their mother had important news to share that she wanted to tell them at the right moment. In the meantime, the siblings tried to just sit it out so they could inherit the house. Well, it was not a house—it was a castle, and now, they had to deal with each other's constant presence on a daily basis, which was making them go stir-crazy.

Milmira and Marissa were the oldest siblings, and they were the new owners of your previous best friend, and still your best friend. This meant you spent a lot of time around the two of them, and luckily, they didn't feel like changing the name you had given him (Reiner) so that's the name he stuck with.

When you and Reiner first met, he was the same age as you—four years old. However, he had already been taken from his parents and sold into the Sunshine Academy.

Reiner was a ram Demi-human, and surprisingly enough, the two of you got along pretty well. Reiner was also the main reason you met some of your other friends back at Sunshine Academy.

Reiner, he became a servant to two people who would constantly interrupt your conversations and override the fact that the two of you were even talking. These two people would tell Reiner to either leave the room or to go do a menial task for them. Due to Sunshine Academy's intensive training, Reiner had a sense of loyalty and commitment, and he would do whatever he was told.

Marissa and Milmira were the only twins in the group, and they were used to sharing everything, including you. Without your knowledge, they had come to an agreement that they would also be sharing you. However, this arrangement felt like a complete surprise to you.

That's when you felt that you needed to take a break from them, or, well, try to do so to the best of your abilities. Even though you tried to find ways to distance yourself from them, the siblings had a discussion and decided to take away the room you had been designated. This meant you would have to hop rooms and sleep with one of the siblings or with a servant. However, luckily, you had made a bond with a few servants, which made your situation a little more bearable.

Occasionally, a sweet otter from the kitchen would allow you to share her bed or sleep on the floor in her room. You didn't mind sleeping on the ground, as it was something you had often done at Sunshine Academy. In addition, there was an overly clumsy deer who would let you sleep in his room at times, although it depended on whether he wanted you to or not. Of course, if neither of them wanted you to sleep with them, you would have to go to one of the siblings' rooms or Reiner's.

At times, when you would put up a fit, Reiner would get punished for it. This happened because the punishment would hit close to home for you. Additionally, since your training at the Sunshine Academy made you used to pain from them, they couldn't punish you by breaking bones or anything of that nature.

After a week of being standoffish and grumpy, while Reiner tried to calm you down and get used to his role as a servant, the twins instituted your first punishment: You don't remember much of the punishment itself, except Melmira giving you a soft apology before her fist met your ribs. Although you barely even said anything besides a small "Oh," you felt the crack and heard it, but you didn't move a muscle or indicate any signs of pain.

This unsettled all of them, as they were used to humans screaming in pain, while you just sat there. You didn't even move to stop her hand.

The twins each had very different reactions, as they were used to sharing everything, feelings included. Melissa, on one hand, was torn between feeling awfully proud and excited to see what else you could do, while simultaneously worrying what Sunshine Academy had taught you, as you were a human who shouldn't have been there in the first place. On the other hand, Milmira also felt worried and tried to bring up the topic, only for Melissa to brush it off.

In contrast, Milmira was worried about your closeness to Reiner from the beginning, as your attachment to him hinted at possible unresolved attachment issues. After she had broken your ribs, she became even more certain that something had happened at Sunshine Academy that the rest of the world was not aware of. Milmira was the more gentle and considerate twin.

Marissa and Melissa had vastly different reactions to seeing one of the siblings getting in trouble or drama occurring. While Melissa often wanted to stay out of it or watch from the sidelines, Marissa would cheer it on and add fuel to the fire. Meanwhile, whenever you tried to tell her that these situations aren't anything to be happy about, her excitement would often overpower any reasoning.

This was one of the reasons why the twins often got into long fights with their siblings, as well as one of the reasons they didn't like being in the castle—they were used to traveling and going wherever they liked. This would also be beneficial for their careers, although they had never told you about them, as none of them really informed you about their respective careers.

After a few days, you started to figure out more about them. You were used to studying people, especially since you held a high rank at the Sunshine Academy. On a few occasions, you slipped up and mentioned that you knew more than they had told you, and although no one said anything, your actions implied that you had been watching and studying them quietly.

Although Marissa never really noticed or paid attention to this, Melissa actually did take note. At first, Melissa thought you might just have a good memory or be observant, but now she had her suspicions. She knew that something was up, but she wasn't sure exactly what it was yet. She also didn't know if her siblings had discovered it either.

Krollien also discovered this, and he was the next to give you a punishment. However, before that happened, he decided to give you time for your ribs to heal and see if he could investigate your mysterious past and figure out what it was that you were hiding.

Krollien took this time to get to know you, much to the dismay of his head servant Jessie. You soon learned that Reiner was the twins' head servant, which meant he would have to be around them 24 seven, further limiting his interactions with those outside of this seemingly exclusive group.

This new information made you even more hyper aware of your surroundings, and how the rest of your stay would likely go, although none of them truly saw or noticed anything. You were, after all, quite good at bottling up your emotions, even with them all spending so much time with you.

Just one thing, to continue occupying your mind: why was everyone so upset about being in the castle, and why were they all supposed to be in the castle in the first place? Whatever it was, it seemed like it was taking forever...

While you wanted to figure out everyone and how you fit into their weird life, you knew you'd have to start with Krollien. Even though he was in a bad mood, his mood seemed to lighten when you were around. You soon realized that he hated being in the castle and seeing his siblings everywhere.

Whenever you tried asking him a direct question such as, 'How do you fit in to all of their weird lives? If they were all so obsessed with you and hated each other, how would they share?' He would simply laugh it off and tell you that you'd see in due time.

When he wasn’t trying to spend time with you, he was budgeting and doing other things you didn’t really understand. budgeting especially because at the time he was using terms, you didn’t get understand

In the middle of falling asleep,you would learn he ended up taking a vineyard to live in from one of his clients after not paying him back. this was when you started to have a grasp on what he actually did for work.

You thought you were pretty good at math so occasionally you’d offer to help him with something math involved. this was usually to Jesse’s dismay. as Krollien would always tell her to go away, so he could talk to you for a little bit free of interruptions

Even though this would often result in you teasing Krollien about his nickname for Jesse, which was "Bunny," something that he felt was supposed to demean her, you thought it was romantic and sweet, and you would occasionally bring it up when he annoyed you or if you wanted to annoy him in return. This would often make him frustrated and slightly embarrassed, and his response to this would always make you laugh.

Krollien’s frustration stemmed from the fact that his little sister, Lilybet, would often make the same joke before he left the castle. Although he might have found it amusing at first, it eventually began to grate on his nerves, especially as she continued to do it again and again.

The more she and lilybet got to know each other, the more she started to understand her circumstances. Lilybet didn't have a job outside of training servants - unlike her siblings who all had different illegal and legal jobs. When she wasn't training servants, she was mostly just trying to be the perfect daughter - something her mother did by having her wear very frilly dresses, which she constantly complained to you about.

Now she was starting to understand her siblings' worries, but she decided she would not worry about it too much and simply continue to get to know you. She was still competing with her siblings to see who’s official pet you would be - even though their mother told them to share, they all knew they weren't going to do that.

She especially hated the constant comments from her younger brother, Silus. Although they lived in the same house, there was still a sort of rivalry between them. All of the other siblings had already left and created their own estates, but the two of them remained there, waiting until their mother died to see who would get the estate. Still, this didn't mean there wasn't a lot of tension between them, with Silas always blackmailing her, and she doing the same in return.

Lily had a confusing behavior. After a hard, rough day, she wasn't usually very cuddly and often just wanted everyone to stay away from her. However, she let you stay. Occasionally, she wouldn't let you leave her arms after a really rough day. She would only get more and more annoyed if it wasn't her day with you.

Lilybet genuinely adored you, but when she had heard about her siblings hypotheses of your past could be she was less interested in how it affected you mentally and more about how it changed you physically. She knew you had a pain tolerance that was almost unbelievable. What else could you do? You didn't even flinch when your ribs were broken.

She brought you along on head servants' tests and training - occasionally giving references. One day, she decided that you would be the challenge - not as a real threat, but simply to teach the servants not to judge an opponent simply based on appearances. It happened only once, and something in you did change, although it was brief. For a second, Lilibet was genuinely scared for the servant's life.

Another person also saw you that day - albeit out of curiosity and a bit of fear. You're different than anything else that has ever been created or painted, making you much more intriguing. This made you even more special and the perfect subject to paint.

 Silas was an avid fan of art, specifically his interest in humans. He was very much into tattoos and the beauty of the human body. However, his tattoo-covered body always caused distress among his siblings and the mother. Still, he made it his goal in his business to show exactly that - the beauty of life in all its natural forms.

To you, his way of showing his affection to the world was definitely not beautiful. Silas would beg to differ, though, your days with him were mostly spent with him painting you. While he was kind of.... To put it simply, rude, his head servant told you that this is simply his way of showing he liked you. If he didn't, you would have been dead by now.

Silas didn’t praise often, and he was always filled with snarky responses; teasing manners; and occasional compliments on your features whenever he was painting you. In general, he was rude, and just a person you liked to stay away from. Unfortunately, you were now his household pet. While that word was very demeaning and beneath your status - no, you refuse to believe it - it seemed to be true.

You were not claiming yourself to be above any of the other servants in any way, shape or form. You didn't understand why this was happening to you. Why you had to be the chosen pet? Why not some other human? Why you?

Anyways, let's go back to Silus. We can talk more about the mental torment later.

Silas is very different compared to his siblings. He doesn't care what his mother thinks, and he barely cares about any of his siblings' opinions. His relationships with his siblings are relatively good besides Krollien - the two are completely different and hate each other, as they are complete opposites.

Just like the rest of his family members, he was not exactly a morning person. Silus was also different than his siblings when it came to restraining his strength with you, perhaps because of your past. Whatever the reason, he had a good excuse to not hold back when he was with you.

Whenever you tried to move out of his grasp, he would either pull you closer or tighten his grip on your waist. The twins would always comment on the purple hand marks on you, each sibling having their own way of putting their mark on you. However, these hand marks would last until you were with Silas again, right before he renewed them. These marks weren't even fully healed before they appeared again

Though the marks were not sexual in nature, you hated just lying there in bed. Silas, on the other hand, would happily stay in bed all day, unless it was for his work which he would brag about to you, or when he was painting. You were always his muse, but if you weren't there to model for him, his paintings would usually become inspired by nature instead. The only exceptions were when his siblings intervened because they were not letting him spend all of his time with you.

Silas wasn't always affectionate, but he would show a sudden softer side when it came to you. He would perform actions that were definitely out of character for him, and if anyone made a comment about how he did it for you, but not for someone else, they would not be around for very long afterwards.

Every one of Silas' siblings had their own 'special thing' they would do only for you. This moment only made their mother realize that she may have just made her own life a lot harder. She still saw you as a pet, but she feared that if she didn't have control over all her sons and daughters, they would continue to act as if you were on a pedestal, and she would lose any chance of gaining their true obedience.

Many of the family members, including Lilibet, had opinions on their mother that weren't very positive, many of them negative. Lilibet tried to gain her respect, but it was just for the money, and many of the servants had their own opinions on her - most of the opinions were not positive in the slightest. Their mother knew that you might just be the child who makes them realize that she doesn't offer them as much as they believe. In their minds, she is their mother, after all.

To the mothers, you weren't really much of a threat. You were a lowly human, and she could easily kill you if she wanted to. In the past, she had killed her children's previous human lovers after all. This time, however, something was different. Their infatuation with you quickly grew and turned into an obsession, and they could not seem to get you out of their minds - especially after you became aware of this obsession. It was hard to get five obsessed vampires away from a single human.

[ashoss]

apollo's blessing to babs is that he doesn't smite her for using the Oracle name without asking for his permission first LMAO (i say this as a joke, but i could genuinely imagine apollo saying this to babs when he visits her to test her character. babs resists the urge to roll her eyes or try to argue that she didn't HAVE a way to ask him/didn't know she had to ask in the first place. she's been holding her verbal own against this god; she isn't gonna screw it up now)

but jokes aside, i could see his blessing being related to the idea of that he's a god of knowledge (in the reasoning/self-knowledge kind of way) and supporting the idea that Oracle!babs is a tech expert/information broker. like an "anywhere the light touches, you'll be able to see" sort of thing. any time she's hacking into something and gets hit with a mental block, the connection comes a little faster and the block goes away. if there's a place she's trying to get a visual on, she'll be able to find a camera/microphone/whatever even if it seems near-impossible as long as it's a place under the sun (basically as long as it's not underground or hidden via magic/gods). she won't be prophetic, she still has to do the work to look and make the connections herself, but apollo greases the wheels and makes it go a little faster. + maybe he throws in some healing as a bonus because she impressed him, like she heals slightly faster than the average person

god yeah ive been thinking about the apollo/babs dynamic. i think it would be super interesting to go more into

i do like the blessing being knowledge related! i do think he wouldnt give her something insanely op like being actually prophetic or anything but him "greases the wheels" is really good! everything ur saying is honestly really good oml

sort of on a different tangent-

im unsure atm where this would take place in the pjo canon? if i want them to take place in the same universe - like if it is a possibility for the current demigods like percy, annabeth, etc... to run into any of the batkids? i think i might have it a bit connected, but then that brings into question where the Trials of Apollo fit into the DC timeline.

because pre-ToA!apollo and post-ToA!apollo are different. pre-apollo is more selfish, godly- despite being one of the more human-like gods he still sees humans as like,, toys. post-apollo has more of an understanding of them, understanding their plights and feelings because of that time spent as lester and with the CHB kids.

i feel like pre-ToA apollo might not have given babs that blessing the same way post-ToA apollo might have, but if i have ToA take place before babs becomes oracle, meaning before the killing joke and death in the family that kind of messes up some of the vibes i wanted to go for. percy is 17 in ToA, and (unsure if i DO want percy and the gang to be involved with the batkids in this au) i feel like he would be the same age or around the same age as jason, to me it makes a lot of sense to me- but if ToA happened before apollo offers babs the blessing that would make percy AT LEAST 2/3 years older than jason. so im not 100% sure on things. although percy as older than jason would be interesting.

or pre-toa apollo did it because it thought of babs as something cool he could play around with- use his blessing on her like a experiment or something idk D:::

[desultory-novice]

hello! out of curiosity, do you have any headcanons/theories/etc. concerning how moonlight mansion’s secret laboratory area factors into the dmk connection? if you don’t mind my asking, i’d love to hear your thoughts if you have any :>

Not...yet. Not a full one, anyway. I will say that the secret lab was in the back of my mind as I was writing my initial post.

Was tempted to say it belongs to someone else. King Dedede is always portrayed to be a secret gear-head but the tubes...

(Photos for those unaware of Moonlight Mansion's secret underground lab)

If... If Dark Meta Knight never had his own "Dark Halberd" and Moonlight Mansion was only his home base... Well, the Halberd is run on Wheelie technology (like the lab has Sparkies) and has similar trap/breakaway passages on it like the basement does...

Although if DMK didn't have his own Revenge of Meta Knight-style coup on Dream Land in the wings... what the HECK was he planning on doing with THIS stuff??! (All of a sudden, the idea of Susie and DMK bonding doesn't seem that strange after all...)

I've also thought a lot about DMK choosing Radish Ruins for the site of his second ambush. If it's a sign that he's got a barely concealed interest in ancient technology and old cultures as MK does...

(I was also thinking about how Moonlight Mansion is a hub to just two realms: Onion Ocean and Candy Constellation. Onion Ocean could relate to the sunken Halberd but I don't have anything relevant for Candy Constellation. It is one of the more tech-y of the realms so that could be where he got the equipment at least...)

If the Mirror enhances the negative, perhaps... MK's interest in the past was taken a bit too far in DMK? Perhaps he wasn't just content to observe it, he wanted to try and reproduce some of it?

...Then again, we're also talking about the guy who, when given a crayon and told he could draw whatever he wanted chose SWORD.

(I tease. Though him drawing a sword badly is still the funniest thing ever)

And, you know, perhaps he just needs a lab to keep the Halberd up and running? This baby is not gonna maintain itself!

Although, hot damn, that test tube is full of GREEN liquid isn't it...?

:Dess begins shaking violently:

EDIT: Last minute thoughts!! If he's got portraits of the realm bosses up, maybe he was...running experiments to try and connect the realms?? Or power the cellphone batteries...??!?

(Who DOES make those batteries? Maybe it IS DMK?!)

[tsarisfanfiction]

Truth Comes Out of His Well (Chapter 11)

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Lee Fletcher, Kronos, Apollo, Apollo Cabin (and many more) As always, @stereden is responsible for the accompanying podfic! You can also blame her for the end of this chapter :P << Chapter 10 Listen to chapter 11 on AO3

The demigods had started to fight back.

For what had felt like forever, Silena and Michael’s reports – especially Silena’s – had more or less boiled down to “camp life is going on as normal”, which had relieved Lee and pleased Kronos.  Lee still disagreed with Silena’s blind belief that if the demigods just stayed out of the war, they wouldn’t get hurt, but he wouldn’t disagree that the less of a target they painted on their own backs, the safer they would be.

Living out camp life as per usual, training and playing Capture the Flag – albeit with vastly reduced numbers during the winter, as Lee recalled well – meant that Kronos seemed to be content to leave them alone, and anything that had Kronos leaving Lee’s family and friends alone was a positive in his book.

Lee himself was not doing too well, admittedly.  He had lost a lot of weight, muscles atrophying from inaction – the brief spells of freedom to go to the bathroom did a little but nowhere near enough - and being chained up the rest of the time meant he couldn’t even do any exercises to keep in shape.  His diet was enough to keep him from starvation and keep his brain sharp, because Kronos clearly wanted Lee’s mental faculties intact, but it wasn’t ideal, either.

Worst of all was the fact that he hadn’t seen the sun since being captured.  He had never worked out exactly where in the world Kronos was keeping him, but it was far enough underground that the sun never came close, not even a distant warmth just reaching him through the corridors.  What he had worked out was that Kronos had more than one base, and a way to move between them both quickly and also undetected by the gods.

The biggest clue for that was the Princess Andromeda, a boat he’d heard mention of back when he was still at camp, and also heard mentioned in passing as Kronos barked out orders.  From what Lee could tell, that was where a lot of the monsters were kept – which was a relief.  The other demigods ranged from neutral to cruel but they had enough fear of Kronos to not hurt Lee, except with sharp words and venomous tongues.  Years of instincts told Lee that if a monster came across him, his much-reduced healing abilities would be tested, and he wasn’t certain that was something he could survive.

Although there were times when he’d wondered if it would be better if one of them did stumble across him and put him out of his misery.  Kronos wouldn’t be able to use him anymore, then.

Lee wasn’t stupid.  He hadn’t caved and told Kronos what he wanted to know, not once, but clearly Kronos still thought it was worth having him listen in to all his spy reports.  He hadn’t physically reacted to lies in years, but with so many forced overloads, Lee was aware that he had almost certainly developed a nervous tic – not that he’d worked out what it was.

Thankfully, for the most part, Kronos’ various spies told the truth.  That made sense – they’d be poor spies if they didn’t give accurate information – but Kronos clearly had enough paranoia over the possibility of double-agents that he had resorted to using a lie detector anyway, unluckily for Lee.

Michael was probably the least truthful, but they were all small things, a lack of certainty when he claimed it, and other similarly unremarkable things.  Silena, on the other end of the scale, was meticulous in her truth-telling, almost honest to a fault.

As far as Lee knew, Silena was also the only spy, including Kronos’ lesser used ones, the ones that kept an eye on the gods and some demigods who weren’t at camp over the winter, who knew about him.  When Kronos took a report from Michael and the others, he settled himself on the ever-present outcrop of rock which he posed on like a king.  A tyrant, if Lee was being specific.  It was only when the face materialising in muted colours was Silena’s that Kronos moved, instead lounging next to Lee, looking so much more like Luke, so that Hecate’s spell picked him up on the visual transmission, too.

Lee hated it.  He hated the way Kronos still moved and posed like Luke, not always but enough, and always when he was after reactions, or the sadistic pleasure of watching his victim force themselves to suppress their reactions, because they knew it wasn’t Luke, despite appearances.  He hated how Kronos posed next to him, like he and Luke were chilling against the side of a building somewhere, rather than Lee being chained to a wall and Kronos inhabiting his once-friend’s body.

Silena didn’t outwardly react, but Lee knew her well enough to know that the sight hurt her, anyway.  There were things he didn’t know about the daughter of Aphrodite, now, because she’d lied to him for so long, but one trait that kept shining through, even in her spying, was how much she cared for people.  To call it a shame that she’d channelled that care into some twisted belief that if she worked with Kronos she could protect people would be a massive understatement, but Lee hadn’t particularly inherited his father’s talent with words.

Music and healing weren’t doing him any good, not now that his healing spluttered and died at anything greater than bruises, and truth…  Well.  Truth was what had put him in this situation in the first place.  Lee didn’t hate it, because it was from his father and he could never hate anything Apollo gave him, but part of him didn’t think too kindly about that particular ability of his.

Then again, it had always been awkward, knowing when someone was lying.  He’d alienated many classmates as a kid, before he lived at camp, by not knowing when it wasn’t worth calling out a lie.  It was also why he didn’t advertise it at camp – he didn’t need everyone looking at him, on edge every time they told a white lie.  He’d alienated a few campers, too, before he’d learned when to keep his mouth shut and ignore a lie.

Lee did at least appreciate that Silena went out of her way not to tell a lie – more or less the only thing he still felt positively towards the daughter of Aphrodite for.

Unfortunately, that made it all the more obvious to Lee when suddenly, Silena did lie.

“I don’t know,” she said, pulling all the perfect expressions to mimic her own face when she spoke truths.  “The head counsellors have narrowed it down to two opportunities, but they haven’t decided which one to take, yet.”

They were talking about cutting off some of Kronos’ reinforcements, and Lee dearly wanted to get back in contact with camp himself to tell them that it didn’t matter, the titan just called more up from Tartarus to replace his depleted ranks.  They would be much, much, better off keeping their heads out of the way and not going out of their way to target Kronos.

Before Lee had been snatched, camp had always been reactive to Kronos.  Lightning bolt stolen?  Send a trio to retrieve it.  Camp defences failing because the tree they were currently tied to was dying?  Send Clarisse out to fetch the Golden Fleece.  An invasion of camp?  Fight back.  Now, it seemed like the head counsellors were getting more and more proactive.

Lee wished he could say he didn’t expect that of Michael, but Michael had always been trigger happy and quick to lash out, impersonating the old adage of how offence was the best defence.  It was one thing that Lee had never fully managed to stop him doing, and it didn’t surprise him that his younger brother had fallen into the safety of familiarity.

He wasn’t even surprised that Clarisse was reportedly touting similar sentiments.  She and Michael had always been more similar than either of them would admit even on pain of death, after all.  The two of them working together would’ve been something to celebrate, in other circumstances.  As it was, Lee wished they weren’t enabling and egging each other on.  Sooner or later, they’d come up with something that had Kronos furious enough to retaliate.

With Silena suddenly lying, he got the sinking feeling that she, at least, thought it was going to be sooner rather than later.

He also realised she was relying on him to not broadcast her lie to Kronos, even though she didn’t look at him once.  She rarely did, any more.  Lee didn’t know if it was because he looked so awful she couldn’t bear to look – his hair was longer now than it had ever been, and he was sure his skin looked bleached and sallow, even in Hecate’s visual transmissions – or if it was guilt, the acceptance that she had thrown away their friendship for good and that Lee could only forgive so much.

Lee didn’t do it for Silena, but he did it for the demigods risking their lives to whittle down at Kronos’ army, even if it was a futile endeavour.

The grilling he got once her report was over was the most intense it had been in a while, leaving Lee in no doubt that Kronos had noticed something, but Lee hadn’t given in yet and he certainly wasn’t going to cave with demigod lives potentially on the line.

Even when Kronos pushed and pushed and pushed, and the by-now familiar torment of multiple lies being thrown at him by a crowd of uncomfortably eager demigods lasted so long that Lee was sure he’d blacked out before they were done.  Even if he hadn’t passed out, he’d certainly lost awareness.

Coming back to his senses, face tight with dried tears and aching cheeks, and wrists screaming from where they’d still never lost the habit of fighting for freedom when his senses overloaded, to see Kronos still waiting, golden eyes burning and arms crossed in a way that was for once less Luke and more terrifying titan, was different.  So was the way Kronos resumed the interrogation immediately, pushing and prying and pulling to get the details of Silena’s lie out of him.

Lee had no idea how he held on.  The continued lack of physical violence likely helped – if Kronos had snapped and decided physical torture would be more effective, then Lee wasn’t sure if he could have done – but eventually Kronos stalked out of the room, glowering and presence oppressive even as he walked away with a single, terrifying, parting shot.

“You only have yourself to blame.”

To blame for what?

The next time he saw Kronos, several meals so likely at least a week later, the titan was no happier, and Camp Half-Blood’s target had been hit.

Lee actually heard the account from Ethan, who had scoffed about it as he watched Lee eat his food tentatively after his attempted healing session ended almost before it began.  His wrists were weak, and permanently ringed with red welts and various shades of bruising, and hairline fractures in the bones weren’t sealing up.  Still, he had long since stopped taking for granted the freedom to eat at his own pace, feeding himself instead of being at the mercy of someone else.

Ethan hadn’t been impressed at what the campers had done.  In another circumstance, Lee would have found it hilarious, but all it really inspired was dread, instead.  A contingency of monsters had been travelling via coach, heading for the Princess Andromeda to meet with Kronos and receive their orders.  None of them appeared to have been particularly bright, but the implication was that Kronos thought them at least capable of following orders.

Someone had snuck into the coach’s toilet and rigged the flush to set off a series of Greek Fire bombs, annihilating the coach and turning all of the monsters to dust.  The part of Lee that had been a camp counsellor for many years saw the unholy combination of cabin eleven and cabin nine in the carnage – cabin nine to set up the mechanics behind the trap, and cabin eleven to sneak it into position.

Specifically, Lee would have pointed fingers in the direction of the Stolls and Beckendorf, if he was still at camp.  It was the exact sort of uncontrolled chaos that the trio could get up to, even if Beckendorf at least pretended to be above Hermes cabin levels of shenanigans.

Lee had known the son of Hephaestus far too long to be fooled by that act.

Above all, though, the biggest hint to Beckendorf’s involvement was Silena’s lie.  She hadn’t lied about any of the other planned attacks, which had left Kronos in a position to counter them, even if his idea of counter so far seemed to be throwing more monsters at the problem – and with Clarisse and the Ares cabin so frequently leading the charge, that wasn’t doing a whole lot.  Beckendorf, however, she had always been close to.  Her crush on the other boy had been blatantly obvious to everyone, with the possible exception of the boy in question, and the same was true of the reverse.

Even now, Lee could see Silena risking everything to try and protect him.

Ethan’s recounting of the events from what he knew bordered on entertaining – certainly satisfying, from the point of view of someone who was no more eager for Kronos to win the war than he had been before he’d been captured – but when Kronos swept into the room later, after Ethan had re-shackled Lee and left, there was no entertainment at all.

There was fear, which slowly evolved into horror.

“You’ve been very stubborn, Lee,” Kronos acknowledged.  Normally when he spoke like that, he leaned into the way he was inhabiting Luke’s body, but the body language stayed all wrong, more accurate to the titan inside.  It didn’t bode well.  “I do admire your loyalty to the gods.  Perhaps if more demigods had your devotion, I wouldn’t even be here, but fortunately for me, you are an oddity, and not the normal.”  His tone lightened for a moment, before snapping into something dark and sharp.  “However.”

Golden eyes burned and Lee wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t on the receiving end of a titan’s intensity.

“This little rebellion of yours ends now, Lee,” Kronos told him, a truth, something that he believed with his entire being.  He’d said several things to that effect before, and Lee hadn’t stopped yet.  “I have entertained your pitiful attempts at stonewalling me for the past year” – gods, it had been a year? – “but my patience is now at an end.  You will co-operate with me from now on.”

Lee got the sense that something very bad was about to happen.  Kronos was too certain, too angry, for it to be more of the same, and that meant the odds of it actually being something that could break him were much, much higher than he liked.

Kronos snapped his fingers, an action that sometimes accompanied part of Lee’s body – often his mouth – freezing in place, but nothing happened to Lee.

There were footsteps instead, heavy and loud and uneven, like someone didn’t want to be walking.

Alabaster walked in, his face unbearably smug, but it wasn’t the son of Hecate that had Lee’s insides slumping all the way down to the cave floor in despair.

No, that was the demigod in his grasp, cuffed and writhing in a desperate yet so clearly futile attempt to escape.

Gods, please, no.

Chapter 12>>>

[galactic-rhea]

Test Flight (ficlet)

Okay, I know I SHOULDN'T be brainstorming let alone writing AU things when I still haven't watched the movies or finished the series, I apologize.

But I just was possesed by writing this funny interaction of:

"Han Solo loses all of his confidence when he needs to make a good impression for Leia's parents. Aka Padmé and no-evil-Anakin( not evil but still sharper at the edges and very serious because of the horrors)" and I figured I might as well just post it.

Word count: ~ 1k Warnings: None. (Possibly some OOC because like I said I still haven't watched the movies, although i tried my best, sorry)

It must be made clear that Han didn’t exactly agree with any of this, he wasn’t eager nor looking forward to being welcomed into Leia’s prestigious family. If anything, he would rather go on with their lives far away from Naboo’s aristocracy and what not. And for starters, he wasn’t sure he was going to be welcomed, per se.

But Leia had been insistent. And there was nothing on that planet or the whole galaxy that could change her mind. So he had no other choice but trying to look for the best of his clothes, which he suspected would get the snobbish aristocracy laughing at him.

Well, maybe not Leia’s family. She was quite an oddball, and it seemed to run in the family, as neither of her parents, or Luke, for that matter, seemed to be normal. First there was Senator Amidala, whom Han had seen just briefly and watched some of her speeches through holograms.

For an aristocrat and a senator, there were quite the wild stories of her being in the middle of an open fire; she being the one holding a gun.  And second, she seemed…strangely just, for a politician, that was it.

But Senator Amidala wasn’t the one he was both intrigued and concerned (even though Luke insisted it was their mother the one in charge). Leia’s father was no other than famous, or perhaps infamous, depending on who you asked, Anakin Skywalker. Legendary war hero, retired jedi and turned aristocrat of Naboo after marrying Senator Amidala. 

He was a secretive, and shady person, and Hans had never seen him, all he knew from him were among bar rumors and telltales. The only thing he was sure of, was that he was  particularly adept at training his own children in his own ways, and if rumors were true, he also led some underground operation of rebels in Naboo.

But he forced himself to not believe in these. After all, Luke and Leia spoke of their father as a fairly fun guy. 

As he stepped out of the speeder and looked up to appreciate the palace, he sighed. Yes, perhaps he should be more concerned about the senator than some failed jedi that fell into a scandalous affair.

He was escorted by guards through long hallways until Leia materialized at his side, seemingly from one of the upstairs. He felt as though it was easier to get lost in such a place than into any forest he had known. 

“Hey,” he greeted. 

“Hey,” Leia smiled and leaned closer to him to speak without being heard by the guards. “I already softened them. All you have to do it’s not make a fool of yourself for an hour or so, it should be easy even for you, right?”

“I never make a fool of myself,” he retorted with a cheeky smile.

“Huh huh.” They both turned in time when Luke appeared from other of the hallways,  waving his hand and loudly greeting them

“You better don't pick up on Luke,” Leia rolled her eyes and twisted her lips as if the thought was too sugary and cheesy for someone like her. “He’s their dumb baby boy.”

“That will make things harder,” Han chuckled as they watched Luke approach.

They shared greetings and a few meaningless words before finally moving onto the dining hall. A giant room with a table several meters long. 

“You don’t look relaxed,” Luke pointed out, and if Luke was pointing it out, it meant he was doing a poor job at being calm. He wasn’t even sure what was worrying about this whole ordeal. At worst, Leia’s family would forbid him from their private parties, right?

He had had no time to answer when the opposite doors opened and everyone directed their attention towards the pair now approaching them. Han squared his shoulders, while Leia and Luke did not so much as to minimally change their stances.

Senator Amidala was regal and with a long white dress adorned with different shades of golden. She held a kind smile, and her hair and makeup was remarkable. A stark contrast to how little makeup Leia would usually wear. 

And at her side, towering over her for several inches; Anakin Skywalker strode in perfect coordination with his wife. He had a mild, barely noticeable limping. And if Han hadn’t trained his eyes to immediately search for weakness on anyone who enters his vision, he probably wouldn’t have ever noticed. 

Skywalker’s eyes were cold and his semblance stoic. Not exactly what Hans was expecting from a retired, or more like, fired, jedi. His whole presence filled the room with certain heaviness, as if the air had become charged with static and with each step, Hans felt more and more uneasy, struggling to remain still. 

“Senator, Amidala,” Han bowed his head slightly, then he turned towards the retired jedi and vacillated. How was he supposed to call him? He took several seconds to address Anakin before he could come up with something. “Mr….Amidala?”

He supposed a senator’s surname held more importance than a retired jedi’s one, right? 

It seemed to be the wrong answer, though,  by the way Luke scoffed and Leia turned her eyes away from him. The senator seemed amused, as she turned to look at her companion, but Anakin’s expression barely changed.

“Shall we begin our dinner?” With no amability or whatsoever, he spoke in a low, raspy voice, and Hans wondered if it was the aftermath of an old battle wound.

They all got on their respective seats and started dinner rather awkwardly. Senator Amidala would be the most talkative, prompting questions towards her children and a few directed towards Han. If it weren’t because Leia’s father wouldn’t take his icy glare away from him, it would have been a rather pleasant dinner. He figured it would be best if he was the one to start the conversation with Skywalker.

“I heard you’re a skilled mechanic, sir-”

“How old are you?” General Skywalker cut in dryly as he started cutting his steak.

Han hesitated, pondering his options. He could always lie…But given Anakin Skywalker’s reputation, he wouldn't be surprised if the man could somehow read minds as well.

“Twenty five,sir,” he answered simply. 

"I see..." He answered emotionlessly and then carried his eyes towards Leia, who , if anything, seemed mildly curious, rather than intimidated. "Perhaps you should be socializing with people of your age, instead of chasing after older people, don't you think, youngling?"

Leia's brows joined together in an offended glare. However, the corner of the retired general curved upwards; bordering into a smile. Senator Amidala, however, was rather obvious, as she brought her glass of wine towards her lips in an attempt to hide a mischievous smile.

“I don’t chase,” Leia let out an airy huff and held her father’s gaze. “They all get into a line and I choose.”

“What line? Hans is the only one who could stand you,” Luke raised his voice, and it was hard to understand if his question was serious or he was merely attempting to rile up Leia. 

“I fought all the others in the line, actually,” Han smiled with a wink, hoping his intervention would avoid any argument between the siblings. 

“Cute,” Senator Amidala smiled, approving of Han’s sense of humor. She turned her attention onto her husband with a raised eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with your steak, dear?”

General Skywalker’s eyes shone with a hint of amusement for a heartbeat before his expression returned to cold stone as he looked down at his plate; he had already run out of parts to cut. “Yes. Insipid…” He returned to glare at their guest. “Dull.”

“Do you want mine, pa’?” Luke offered, probably breaking every single dining rule known to aristocracy. 

“No, Luke.”

Han shifted on his chair and tried to focus on eating; the faster they finished dinner, the faster he could run away from Anakin’s unbearable deadly look.

Leia cleared her throat, leaning towards his father, who immediately turned all of his attention onto her.

“Dad, I bet you didn’t know Han is a pilot.”

Anakin hummed, considering this and then landed his seemingly eternal glare back onto Han. 

“I did not. Is that true?” 

Leia turned her face to Han and gestured, twisting her mouth as she spoke silent words. Words that Han didn’t understand, not even a single one. He frowned as he tried to piece the words together until he realized Anakin’s impatient hum. 

“Yes…Sir. I’m.” 

“Are you good?” Anakin pressed, reaching with his robotic arm a glass of wine.

Han raised his chin with a wide and confident smile. “The best.”

The general’s expression changed, as he stopped mid-drink and lowered his glass. He curled his lips into an authentic cocky smile. Strangely enough, the smile of someone who’s used to laughing and playing around, and it made him appear almost like a different person.

“Oh, really?” He scoffed, leaning against the back of his chair. “Let’s have a race, then.”

Han blinked, unsure about what to answer. He looked for Leia’s guidance and help, but she had her head turned towards her parents.

“Ani,” Senator Amidala gave her husband a look. 

“He says he’s the best, I wanna know if he’s lying.” He shrugged. “If he didn’t lie, there’s nothing to fear.”

“We’re having dinner.”

“We just finished dinner, m’ lady,”  he gave a quick glance at Luke and Leia’s plates to point out his words. Then landed his eyes on Han. “So, what do you say…Mr. Solo?”

He supposed he would rather show off his skills at piloting (even if it meant to embarrass Leia’s father in a race) than to stay any single minute at this horrid frivolous dinner. He put down his fork and jumped onto his feet. 

“It will be my pleasure.”

Following his movements, the retired jedi rose up from his seat almost as if the frivolous dinner was just as annoying to him as it was to Hans. He pulled away his cloak in a swift movement and pulled his hair away from his face. 

Senator Amidala shook her head, but there was the faintest amused smile in her lips as she rose up as well and glanced at the twins.

“We'll need good seats.”

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 2 - West Ham Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 1 Summary: What happens when a chance meeting happens again (and again)? Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language and outrageous flirting 🤷🏻‍♀️ Author's Notes: It took me over a month to write (blame the capitalism and full-time work) and it's twice as long (over 8k), but it's here, eh? These two did not seem keen on shutting up and the result is chaotic, but then that's London for you. It also features a cheeky POV change because there's no rules and everything is a simulation :) Also, if anyone's interested, the dance she mentions in scene no 1 and shows Neil is 'Cupid's Variation' from Don Quixote ballet. As seen for example here. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

To say you have not thought about Neil every day since that encounter would be a lie. As it turned out, he was wrong. It was not difficult to remember him, tormented daily by the memories of that exact shade of blue or the way the strands of his hair fell over his forehead. Rarely the one to lie to yourself, you did not even try to get rid of those thoughts. After all, it was harmless. Hopefully.

A week later, on another dreary Wednesday morning, when the only reason for excitement was this autumn’s production of Don Quixote and the roll-call announcement in your inbox, you made it to the St. John’s Wood station with a slight shortness of breath. The morning walk was always an opportunity to admire how ordinary neighbourhoods of West Kilburn transformed into the poshness of Maida Vale and St. John’s. Alternatively, it was a way to check whether your fitness levels were still up to par. That morning, it was the second option.

Happy to blame the annoyingly engaging 5 minutes crafts video that popped up on your timeline just as you were supposed to be getting dressed, you shouldered your way past lingering tourists and through the ticketing gates. That was the only issue you had with the station. Its proximity to the most famous crossing in all of England (if not all of Europe) meant that day in and day out, hundreds of clueless individuals stood in your path. The best you could do was not trample them as you rushed to the platform, all too aware of the passing minutes.

Luckily, the gods of TfL were merciful. As soon as you stepped onto the platform, that familiar rush of warm air from the tunnels made the hair sweep into your face. You breezed through the rehearsed choreography – locating the door, letting the disembarking crowd through, stepping into the cart. It was easy, almost done with your eyes closed.

That Wednesday morning, you were glad you did not test the theory and kept your eyes open. The cursory glance around the cart got cut short when your gaze landed on the familiar dirty-blonde head, bowed over a book. You froze, eyes already doing their job by following the outline of the man to make sure it was not just your wishful thinking. Once you did it twice over, you knew it was no mistake. It was Neil. Sat by the window, blissfully unaware of your staring.

And you did stare. At the sharpness of his profile, the broad shoulders clad in a perfectly fitting shirt and the strong forearms, again bared by the rolled-up sleeves. Although it had only been a week, you drank the sight of him like a woman parched. Without letting yourself think too long of the consequences, you crossed the aisle and sat down next to him:

“I haven’t forgotten you. Are you proud?” with the breath still hitched in your throat, you watched Neil react.

He froze, the book almost slipping out of his loose hold. As if controlled by strings, his head swivelled towards your voice at an alarming speed. You watched as he scanned your face, clearly going through the same crisis as you did. Only once you saw Neil relax and not eager to bolt, you sagged into the plastic chair and offered him your most innocent look. Neil’s responding smile felt like sunshine hitting your face on a cold winter afternoon. You were happy to let the warmth seep into your bones.

“I’m mostly flattered, but you’re bad for my ego,” he gave you another once-over, this time lingering on your body.

It was more than welcome. You shot Neil a smirk, already ecstatic with the turn of the conversation. Although, there were evident falsities within his words. There was no big ego to conquer. You could see as much in that persisting disbelief in his eyes, the margin of distrust Neil kept throughout the last conversation. All because he did not seem to see himself the way he was. The way everyone else saw him.

“Nah, you’re fine,” using the observation as an inspiration, you reached out to pat his knee and lowered your voice to a faux-seductive timbre, “Actually more than fine,” admittedly, it was another corny line.

But if it worked.

When he blushed, you barely resisted the urge to pump your fist. Neil knew that was the intent anyway if his narrowing stare was anything to go by. He stayed silent for a beat, giving you a chance to stare. To trace his features with your gaze, substituting for a careful touch of your fingertips. It was too early to do that. Yet. But it did seem like the magnetism of last week’s meeting did not disappear, leaving you both arrested in each other’s orbit by the sheer force of gravity. A force you did not want to resist.

“Do you want to make me blush?” Neil’s question made you blink back the thoughts and admire your success.

That rosy-cheeked glow only added to the overall striking looks. And did not stop you from getting in too deep. That had already happened.

“Very much so,” shooting him your best innocent smile, you carefully lowered the tote bag onto the floor between your knees and looked around the cart, ending it on Neil again, “Fancy seeing you here,” the resulting smile was enough of a reward for the pain of another weak pickup line.

On the edge of your consciousness, you registered that the train was still moving as it should. The tourists were still starting to crowd the space. But it was hardly noticeable.

“Likewise,” Neil seemed to consider something for a beat, then he extended his hand towards you in a greeting. An echo of that first handshake, “Hi,”

Not hesitating to join him halfway, you wrapped his palm in a tight hold, letting your thumb draw invisible lines along the back of his hand.

“Hi,” like then, the handshake lasted too long, but none of you cared to cut it short. Neil loosened the hold first, his long fingers trailing over the back of your hand and the length of your digits before dropping away. The slight catch in your voice was masked easily by the next question, “Soo, is this like… Are you going to work?” you eyed his outfit again, taking note of the leather laptop bag on the floor.

It seemed clear, but if the years of commuting by the London Tube taught you anything, it was that almost nothing was what it seemed.

“Yeah, I am,” Neil breezed through your doubts with a decisive nod.

The unspoken was easily detected. A better woman would have probably let it be, ignoring the omission with the hopes that the conversation partner was too shy to disclose the information. Like a normal almost-stranger. But you were never the better woman.

“Where do you work?” you leaned in closer, the waft of his cologne overwhelming the senses.

The masking conspiratorial grin must have appeared manic. It was hard to tell whether that alone was the reason for Neil’s passing discomfort.

“I’d rather not say,” he shifted in the seat, averting your gaze, “It’s… complicated,” the apologetic tone only added fuel to the curiosity.

Now you had to know. One way or another.

“Can I guess?” your mind was already buzzing with possibilities.

Not only was he stunning, but mysterious. To not let that get into your head you reached into the tote and dug out a water bottle. One greedy sip hardly did what it needed to do. And you nearly choked during it. A heavenly omen? You did consider that, in between Neil’s intense stare and his hesitant nod.

“Good luck with that,” the scepticism in his gaze felt like a challenge.

One that you were happy to take up. You leaned back as far as the seat confines allowed and measured him critically. The elegant clothes suggested it was unlikely Neil was working at a shopfloor level. As did the “put together” appearance, with the only flaw being the unkempt hair falling into his eyes. Still, the possibilities were endless.

You decided to start with something safe. Probable.

“Are you a stockbroker?” on its own accord, the look of distaste passed through your face, twisting the features into something almost comical.

It was hardly your fault. It was the years of frustrating men reacting to the news about your job with a bemused smirk, eager to spend the next 10-20 minutes proving the Arts were dead and the ballet was a farce. A hobby, they said. Most of those men were passionate about the stock exchange. Oh, so eager to spend their days screaming at the screens displaying rates and figures you did not care to decipher. Somehow, it was you who was in the wrong. You were the naïve one.

It was impossible to say whether Neil could read all of that from the fleeting look on your face, but the amusement in his eyes suggested it was likely.

“Christ, no,” he shook his head vehemently, revealing his feelings towards the occupation.

Somehow, it felt like a relief. That tiny dose of joy was enough to embolden you further. To let go of the remaining apprehensiveness and let your mouth do what it did best. It happened often enough to be an issue. Because once you stopped caring what you said or how the other person reacted, nothing stopped your mouth from speaking whatever it wanted.

Most of the time, that meant utter bullshit.

“Alright… A priest?” as soon as the question gained voice and sound, you knew it was one of those times.

That, however, did not make you want to take it back. How could you, after seeing the bewilderment on Neil’s face, which beat any expression you had ever seen him make?

“… What is going on in that head of yours?” he stared at you with concern, only making that laughter bubbling in your chest become a fact.

Admittedly, the image was hilarious. Neil, as a member of the clergy, was a concept that emoted thoughts you did not dare dwell on. At least not now. Not when you were right next to him. Later? Maybe.

“Nobody knows,” you shook it off with a mysterious look thrown his way and rested your chin in your fist, positioned perfectly to fix your unwavering gaze on him, “So, I guess it’s a no, then?”

Just in case that it was a yes.

“No,” Neil spoke faster than you deemed possible, quickly keying into the breathless laugh breaking on your face, “I mean, yes, it’s a no,” the decisive shake of the head was enough for you to drop it. If he let you, “Is that a kink thing, or…?”

The inquisitive look was turned onto you. There was no chance of escaping the blue eyes that stared you down. Yet again, you felt like he could see the depths of your soul. And judging from the smile hiding in the corner of his lips, he liked what he saw.

But that did not mean you were happy to give him quite that much.

“I wouldn’t tell you if it was. Not yet, anyway,” you hoped the promise within that sentence was clear.

Neil’s widening grin confirmed it. You winked at him, sealing the pledge for future use.

“Are you also going to work?” Neil’s question acted like a needed change of scene.

A naturally occurring shift in the atmosphere. You took it with both hands open wide:

“To the dance studio. I got a part in autumn’s production of Don Quixote. The Cupid, to be exact. That means the next few months, I might as well live in there,” the heavy sigh was only half of an act.

But it was nice to share the news. To boast to someone who listened and seemed to care. Because the thrill of that first look at the cast list and seeing your name there was still burning.

“Congrats. That sounds like a big deal,” Neil’s proud smile confirmed the hopes and dreams.

“It is. It’s difficult, even though the variation is like a minute long,” unafraid to delve into the deposit of fun facts and trivia available at hand, you rambled on until you remembered about the videos you could use as a demonstration “I could show you what it looks like, if you want?” fully prepared, you took out the phone from your pocket and waited.

Neil gestured towards it like there was no dilemma at all. Like he wanted to understand.

“Obviously,” he nodded, welcoming you into his space and leaning his back against the carriage side.

You did not squander that chance, typing the necessary phrase onto the YouTube search and getting closer to him. Once the video was ready, you offered Neil one of your earphones. It was not long, with the clip’s duration barely breaching the one-minute timestamp, but the shiver of excitement was still there. It caught fire when you pressed play and heard the familiar score fill your ears, the eyes tracing the steps by the ballerina on the recording with the mind making plans for your version. For what you could do to make it different. Memorable. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

But what soon became more fun was watching Neil instead of looking at the screen. He was focused on the performance, staring at the dancer with curiosity and interest. As if like he cared. You were not sure what to do about that realisation.

As the ballerina finished the performance with a smile and the video ended, you moved the phone away and snatched the headphones to deposit both in the tote. The rare hesitancy replaced the previous bravery, taking all the words out of your mouth and leaving you silent. And unable to look at him until Neil was the first to speak:

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” the encouragement in his voice did half the job of coaxing you out of the stupor.

The act was complete when he placed his palm on your knee and squeezed it lightly. That alone made you turn your head to look at him, all at once letting go of the shyness. Although he just as quickly took his hand back, the burning mark on your skin remained like the phantom touch. The slightly manic grin you turned on him was the only way you could hide the darkening blush.

“What did I do to deserve trust like that?” the question was genuine, eating at your brain with small yet persistent bites, impossible to ignore.

Neil had no obligation to humour you. No need to support you – a near stranger by all accounts. But he did. It was increasingly difficult to keep a distance. To remind yourself that you did not really know him. That trust should not be given this easily.

Neil’s searching gaze did not make it easier.

“I just like to believe in people, especially if I consider them friends,” he met your gaze and offered a timid smile.

You grasped onto the chance with a tight hold.

“Are we friends?” it was an opportunity for him to back off, to leave before you got in deeper.

Before what was once a chance meeting and a cute story to share with friends after a glass of wine became something real. Something frequent. Something to care for.

You did not have to stop to know what you wanted to happen.

“Something along those lines,” Neil shrugged, reading what you meant without difficulty. You saw the friendship take shape in the tiniest of nods you exchanged before he changed the topic with a cheeky smirk, “Especially considering I know about your annoying hook-up,” the involuntary shudder was an automatic reaction on your part, earning a pleased laugh from him “Talking about which, any new conquests?” he measured you up with that same searching look.

One that told you it was not only you that wanted to know more. That Neil, too, was curious. Although, that assumption was a tad bit insulting.

“No, come on. It’s been a week,” the frustration in your tone was a choice, a way of showing how the presumption made you feel, “I’m not that much of a player,” while it was from an insult, Neil needed to know he was wrong.

For some reason. A reason you were not willing to pick apart or scrutinise. Whether he noticed your ongoing crisis, it was hard to tell, for the moment Neil turned a mischievous grin on you, all rational thoughts had disappeared.

“And yet here you are, flirting with me,” checkmate.

The look you gave him confirmed his suspicions, if nothing did before. Only the fact was that your raging flirting with Neil hardly had anything to do with the desire to score another hook-up. There was no aim here, only that he was willing and too beautiful to be ignored.

At least, that was the hill you would die on.

“You’re making it easy,” you shrugged, half hoping to shift the attention away from your sex life and its many failings. But the opportunity was right there, too good to be wasted. Too perfect for the humour glimmering in his eyes and the expectant twitch in his lips, “Plus, you never know what may happen,” admittedly, the lower timbre and the seductive tone were all taken from the book on flirting you had used many times before.

But it worked, so… As if looking to distract you, Neil dragged a hand through his hair, making the blonde strands stick up and then fall in even greater disarray over his forehead. (That worked, too). All the while, he never let his gaze stray away from yours, seemingly confident that there was no need to keep note of the upcoming stops or anyone else around you. That, too, was a dangerous observation to make. All things considered.

“You have something in mind?” Neil’s question forced you to maintain some composure, but even that was short-lived.

As if inspired by your antics from that first meeting, his gaze travelled to your lips. The action alone kicked off a chain of events. Your eyes took the cue to glance down, to trace the shape of his mouth with a pang of hunger tugging at your stomach. Neil noticed it, watching you like a hawk that has just set the hook for its prey. Sinker? His tongue darted out to lick the expanse of his bottom lip. The hot flash of want sizzled underneath your eyelids as you forced yourself to look away.

Even if only to pretend you had not been struck by the same bullet you had fired at him the week before. The amusement you noticed in the corner of your eye told you it was futile.

“Oh, certainly,” your gaze stayed fixed on the darkness of the tunnels outside, as you mused out loud, “Especially if we keep on meeting like this,” there was nothing to add.

No chance of hiding the hopeful tint in your voice or the desire voiced with it. The part of you that had always rebelled against vulnerability and telling people truths, that were too close to reality, was ablaze with rage. You worried that, soon, it might start chucking rocks at you to stop. Goddamn.

“I hope we will. You’re, without a doubt, the most fascinating person I’ve met in a while,” only Neil’s matter-of-fact tone could make you turn back to face him.

If only to check whether it was not some meaningless jest. But there was no joke shining in his blue eyes. Only certainty. On the outskirts of your perception, you noted the station you had just left. That catchy ABBA song sharing its name reverberated in your head as if queued up by the gremlins occupying your brain.

Or something.

In any way, there was hardly time to idle.

“Likewise,” you shared a meaningful nod, not brave enough to express even half of what was running in your head. Instead, you decided to do what you did best and took the jump, “It’s my stop next, so I have to… Would you like to give me your number?” the line delivery was perfected over time.

So much so that by now, you did it without a hitch. Without cracking a smile so long as the recipient was processing the line with silence. The poker face stayed on until you saw that first glimmer of a smile or bursting bout of laughter. Only then did you let yourself crack, too. Just a flash of a smile to let them in on a secret.

Neil’s responding laugh and an amused grin shot straight up your veins like adrenaline. Like a drug you could feel yourself getting addicted to. He seemed to debate his reply for a beat before speaking:

“Maybe. But only if you still remember who I am in two weeks,” the challenge in the statement was clear.

Conveniently for both of you – you were never the one to pass on proving a point. Especially since this one was not going to be difficult. At all.

With all the confidence, you were sure you would think about those blue eyes and blonde mess of a hairstyle for many days to come. During many different times of the day.

Extending the hand to “shake on it”, you clasped his palm firmly. The “game on” look in your eyes completed the picture. The train began to slow down as the PA system crackled to life overhead. There was no time to waste.

“Deal. Do I get bonus points if I think about you during the off hours, too?” with his hand still clasped in yours, you stroked the back of it with your thumb.

A glance at the revealed forearm showed the goosebumps rising in the wake of your touch. Or maybe it was due to the implication? You would never know for sure.

The adorable blush spread over Neil’s cheekbones, suggesting he knew what you meant. He bowed his head as if overwhelmed with bashfulness and whispered the question over your joined hands.

“Do you?” there were two meanings to that question, and both had the same answer.

Do you think about me in those moments? Do you mean that?

Yes. You spelt out the confirmation with your fingertips over his knee. Like it was a secret. Out loud, you said:

“Maybe” the lights of Southwark were like a harsh wake-up, throwing you out of the daydream and into reality. You got up before anything could convince you to be sillier than acceptable. One glance down at the man who had somehow turned your world on its head was enough to soften your gaze, “Bye, Neil. Hope you have a nice day, giving communion or whatever it is priests do,” the joke landed spectacularly, with loud laughter from Neil and a burst of pride in your chest.

He grinned at you, something like happiness shining in the eyes that always seemed to contain melancholy. The desire to know what that was did not want to get any smaller. The doors slid open, forcing you to take that decisive step, fiercely hoping fate would be as generous in a week.

“See you around, Cupid,” Neil’s farewell rang out as you stepped out from the train.

You smiled like a lunatic as you walked down the platform. It was too easy to hope the Jubilee line would bring him to you again.

***

By the next Wednesday, you were prepared. You had timed your morning routine down to the last second to be sure you would get on that same train. And hoped Neil would do the same. Although, for a bystander, the action on your part could come off as desperate, you would never use that word yourself. No, this was pure curiosity. Way to spice up the morning commute and maybe get a friendship out of it. Just that. Only that.

When you descended onto the St. John’s Wood platform at precisely 7:19, your crossed fingers were hidden in your pocket. With bated breath (and an air of nonchalance), you stepped aboard the 7:21 Jubilee line train heading towards Stratford. Just like you planned.

You only let the breath out when your gaze fell upon the familiar dark blonde head. The accompanying hiccup in your heartbeat was to be ignored. Until further notice. Or forever. Aware of the crazed grin on your face, you crossed the space to the places occupied by Neil and asked:

“Is this seat taken?” this time, you were ready for his responding smile, dazzling you close to unconsciousness.

Only the hand tightly grasping the railing was necessary to keep you upright. But Neil need not know that. With your free hand, you motioned towards the seat occupied by his laptop bag.

“Now it is, yes,” Neil grabbed it instantly, putting the bag on the floor and turning toward you with a smile, “I was hoping I’d see you today,” the simple sentence was enough to spark the blooming warmth in your chest.

You did not even realise the cold had settled there throughout the week. In favour of ignoring the thought, you took the plastic seat with an accompanying creak of the material and turned the cheeky smile on Neil:

“Yeah? Were you holding your breath for it?” no matter the teasing, you were glad he had been waiting for you.

That it was not just you who had hoped the meeting no. three would happen. Allowing yourself the pleasure of staring at Neil, you let your eyes roam over his face. You noted the darker circles under his eyes and the tiredness hiding in the blue of his irises.

“From Swiss Cottage,” Neil’s reply made you store the observations in the drawer at the back of your head and stare at him with eyes open wide.

Now, that was interesting.

“That’s where you live?” you could not hide how you perked up hearing the information.

Neil saw through all the tricks you tried to pull up, immediately flashing a knowing smile. That was no mistake, not a case of him saying too much by accident. He wanted you to know. Or, alternately, he did not care too much about keeping it a secret.

“It is. Which makes me think we’re kinda sorta neighbours,” his lips twisted into a pleased smile as he confirmed your assumptions and added his layer of ridicule to the conversation “In the quirky Londony way” as if following internal logic you were not privy to, Neil shimmied in the seat, clearly highlighting the quirkiness of that statement.

There was no controlling the burst of laughter that escaped your lips and rang out in the carriage with embarrassing volume. Clamping your mouth shut, you slid down in the chair and glared at Neil, shaking with barely contained giggles. It was perfect.

Once you felt like you could control yourself, you broke the silence with a reply and a nod:

 “That we are,” then, if only because the giddiness was still making your body shake with joy, you added, “It’s good to know,” you met Neil’s gaze, looking for a pointer.

A sign that it was alright to follow the instinct again. You quickly found what you had been looking for as Neil inclined his head towards yours with glimmering eyes full of curiosity.

“Why?” you might have imagined the deeper timbre in his voice.

It might have just been your wishful thinking that Neil was eager to go along with your flirtations. But it also could have been a fact. Another one of those moments of courage when he seemed to forget what shyness is.

Aware of the danger divagations like those could bring, you shook them off with a shrug, easily deflecting the topic and leaving the assumptions as just that. Luckily, the perfect distraction was waiting on the tip of your tongue.

“Actually- Are you a farmer?” turning the unblinking stare on him, you awaited the responding smile like an early riser waiting for the sunrise.

As soon as you left the carriage a week before, you knew the silly guessing game would have to go on. Even if only for the sake of your amusement. Judging by Neil’s resigned sigh, he was willing to comply.

“So, this continues, huh?” the question was a mere formality, and he did not wait for an answer, dismissing your guess with a sleigh of hand, “Nope, try again,” you certainly did not imagine the pleased nonchalance as Neil settled against the side of the carriage and measured you coolly.

Never afraid to be seen, you felt a shiver run up your spine when you were the sole focus of his attention. The particular way he caressed every inch of your body with curiosity made you wonder what his touch would be like. What kind of lover would he be?

“That’s a shame. Would love to meet a sheep herder,” slamming the metaphorical door shut at the yearnings of your heart, you let your mouth run wild.

And again, it delivered. It was not a lie, but it was bullshit. Yet Neil did not seem too bothered, staring at you for approximately 30 seconds before shooting you a wink worth another minuscule heart attack:

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” yet again, he patted your knee good-naturedly and just as quickly retracted his hand, distracting you with a question, “Can I ask you something?” you could not miss the sudden change of tone.

It sobered you up, forcing you to strengthen your spine and give Neil full attention. After the minutes of whimsical conversations, you considered taking that one step further. It was only a blessing that he did it first.

“Anything,” hoping your smile was just as welcoming as you wanted it to be, you trained your eyes on that unruly strand of hair that always seemed to fall into Neil’s eyes.

Your hands were itching with the want to brush it away.

Neil sighed as if bracing himself for something. Then he started to speak:

“When we met, you said that you’re not even sure you believe love exists, let alone feel it for that guy… Did you mean that?” the question reverberated in the carriage, which suddenly was too quiet.

You glanced at Neil, not knowing what to expect, only to find nothing but curiosity in his face. The question was one that you were asked before. Many times before. But it was the first instance that you wanted to answer it. There was no judgment hiding behind the question mark, only the desire to understand. To figure out what you were all about.

That was a reason enough for honesty. Keeping your eyes locked with Neil, you took a deep breath and replied:

“Yeah… It’s like, I know it’s a thing people feel, and I guess that must mean it’s real, but I’ve never… I don’t think it’s as much a big deal as everyone makes it seem to be” that familiar frustration bled into your words as you felt the years of misunderstandings inspire the speech and spur on the sincerity, “I like sex and all that, just not the… swoony, tender bullshit that fixes absolutely nothing and only seems to make people miserable” you finished the reply on a groan and measured Neil with a sceptical look “Satisfied?” that was the dreaded moment.

When part of the curtain has risen to reveal the truth underneath. The silence felt almost stifling, and you did not know why. It was all true. Every word has been spoken with honesty and came from your soul. From the soul that was tired of glorification always bestowed on love, feelings, and all things pink and fizzy, that complicated what could be simple. Even if love existed, you were sure you would rather never feel it. It was better that way. Simpler.

You doubted there was anything in the world that could convince you otherwise.

But still, that beat of silence before Neil reacted to your impassioned speech was torturous. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, awaiting that curt nod. Once it came, you let out a long sigh, feeling your body cave in on itself as if manifesting that sudden energy drop.

“Yeah, and also concerned,” Neil’s voice was the thread that kept you anchored to the moment, although it was impossible to tune out the underlining worry you had detected in his tone.

It was inconceivable. You could deal with disgust and ignorance, but concern was not something you understood. It made you helpless. You shook it off the best way you could – with a flirty smirk and a question:

“Are you a romantic, sweetheart?” the pet name rolled off your tongue with ease, meeting no resistance from Neil save for an uncertain smile and a dusting of pink along his cheekbones.

You could work with that.

The question, too, came from a place of curiosity. Sure, you could have left the topic where it was and rushed off into another silly conversation. But why should you? One look at the upcoming station showed you that the time was still running out, and you did not have much to lose. You met Neil’s bashful look head-on, patiently waiting for him to find the words.

“As much as one can be a romantic when they’re utterly untethered,” once he spoke, you could hear the sadness defining his confession and the constant weight of it dragging him down.

The choice of the word made you search his gaze for an explanation. It was impossible to believe someone this gorgeous could be lonely, let alone without a line of admirers waiting at their every beck and call. Yet the melancholy tinting his words suggested otherwise. Knowing the situation called for something more subtle than your usual repertoire of blatant flirting, you dropped your voice to a soothing tone and lowered your head to keep holding Neil’s gaze:

“Like ever or…?” trailing off, you watched as he seemed to wage an internal battle for close to a minute.

Even without knowing him that well, you could guess what it was about. It took a certain level of courage to be vulnerable in front of a stranger, to reveal one’s deepest regrets to someone not that familiar. Although you did not want to speak, you hoped the impassive yet open look on your face showed him that you would not pass judgment, no matter what it would be.

On its own accord, your gaze followed the sharp lines of his face, drawn closed with thought and up over the halo of his hair, shining in the fake yellow light of the carriage. If there was one word to describe Neil, it would be golden. You could only imagine the comparison would get more apt in the proper, warm light of those rare autumnal days in London that seemed to approach fast.

Before you had the chance to analyse that thought and place it under necessary scrutiny, Neil broke the silence:

“No, just for the past few years. No matter how hard I may fall, it’s never enough, so…” the blue eyes that rose to meet yours were burdened with resignation that, for a second, felt like it could crack your heart into two.

But you shook it off, reaching for the layers of frustration that always seemed present. For the annoyance at the society that had fooled people into believing that love was some holy grail of existence, the point of your miserable lives to live up to. When it was everything but. The familiar fire burned in your eyes as you clasped a hand over Neil’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly:

“See? Love’s overrated,” swallowing past the bitterness coating your tongue, you shot him a manic grin.

And ignored the alarms blaring in your head.

***

Before, those twenty minutes of commute between home and Canary Wharf were spent zoning out. Only sometimes, he could shake up the routine with a book or a particularly interesting podcast episode. After, it became an affair of watch-checking and foot-tapping until the train arrived at St. John’s Wood, and she would either be there or not.

Despite the impressions, Neil much preferred the after. Even if for the past two Wednesday mornings, he awoke with a strangely knotted stomach and a dumb smile of anticipation forming on his lips. That aside, it was nice to have something to look forward to.

Apart from the complexities of inverted physics, that is.

Timing the arrival on the Swiss Cottage platform for the right train was not an issue. It was something Neil had always done, unable to shake off the shackles of routine that seemed like second nature by now. When he boarded the Jubilee line heading towards Stratford, the anxiety set in like an old friend. It did not help that the carriage was packed this time, offering no available seats. With a tired sigh, Neil grabbed the nearest handrailing and stared out the window.

Without effort on his side, she soon enough came to mind. That happened a lot since that fateful afternoon. He had yet to decide whether it was a good or bad thing. For now, it was simply a fact. Like the anticipation of seeing her in two minutes, for the fourth time since the meeting. That also made Neil feel some way, but he was not brave (or willing) to understand it yet.

Perhaps the most crucial fact was that she, the newly appointed Cupid and the most baffling person he had met, was impossible to forget. And now, after three conversations that only expanded the mystery and made his curiosity insatiable, Neil did not try to forget. No, today (if she showed up), he would give her his number and let that determine the course. It was easy enough to think, harder still to execute.

By the time he had convinced himself that it was achievable and that it was alright to let go of the control this once, the train slowed to a crawling speed, and the lights of St. John’s Wood shone into the carriage. Before Neil could descend into another sort of anxious spiral, the doors slid open, and he had no choice but to expectantly stare at the commuters streaming in. He did not have to wait long, for right after the first row of impatient tourists and gravelly serious businessmen forced their way onto the Tube, she daintily stepped inside and flashed him another of those brilliant smiles.

It was nearly impossible to prevent his gaze from scanning her from head to toe like an uncontrollable Neanderthal that had caught the first sight of a woman. It was a reflex, a reaction Neil tried to stifle by forcefully dragging his eyes towards her face.

He was, without a doubt, an idiot.

The internal crisis had to be put on hold when she crossed that bit of space and leaned on the railing, curious eyes roaming over his face like they always did. Neil did not try to convince himself she was doing anything but checking him out.

“Ready to claim your reward?” the question helped him get the hang of the situation instead of losing his cool any minute.

That was highly probable with the way Cupid was staring at his face, seemingly unbothered by the movements of the carriage and the cramped space. It was also a good way of reminding her, though Neil did not doubt she would have forgotten. For reasons utterly inconceivable, the woman was driven to get his number.

The only excuse he had for waiting so long to let her have it was the constant disbelief that made it virtually impossible for Neil to trust she wanted it for real. As in not because of some elaborate joke that he was not privy to. And yes, that did happen. Once.

“Ecstatic,” her reply delivered in a perfectly monotone voice did make him focus. He watched as she glanced around the carriage, only now taking in the surroundings, “Looks like we’re standing today,” the observation seemed like a safe opener, and Neil immediately felt grateful.

It was that necessary push to make him relax a little and get out of his head. Even if only for the next quarter of an hour he would have with her.

“Do you have anything against that?” copying her pose, he leaned in closer, testing the luck that did not seem to have run out just yet.

If anything, she closed the space by another fraction, offering him a generous whiff of her perfume (Neil’s head did not feel ridiculously fuzzy because of it) and looked up at him through her eyelashes. Her lips curled into a tell-tale smirk that should have been the first clue of what was coming.

“Nope. I’m not too fussy about positions,” as soon as Cupid dropped her voice to a seductive timbre and grazed his shoulder with her fingers, Neil was done for.

He blinked twice, hoping to unfreeze the brain that continued to display the error404.exe. Because what the fuck was that? Who acted like this with near strangers?

Cupid, that’s who. Judging by her self-satisfied smile, she was pleased with the reaction. She brushed the lint he had not noticed before from his cuff and observed him silently. Despite the heart attack, Neil had to give her kudos for the attempt. He did so by slightly bowing his head in her direction and a wry smile:

“I walked right into this one, didn’t I?” once he looked up, the amusement still warming up his chest, even if tinted with bafflement, Cupid was waiting for him, expectantly meeting his gaze as if there was nothing in the world that could make her look away.

She was truly something else.

“Yeah, you did,” her knowing eyes cut through all the posturing Neil could ever hope to attempt as she took a deep breath and went in straight with the agenda, “Soo… Can I have your number?” that cheeky grin was still in place, adding to her charm.

Although Neil would be the first to admit she did not need additional charisma points or anything of the sort. She was already lethal. That realisation did not make him any keener to pull back or put a stop to the dance she had drawn him into.

Neil eyed her closely, feeling the weight of his phone in the pocket. The answer was yes, of course, but she did not need to know that… yet.

“Are you going to sign me up for the Tories news updates?” having noticed how she reacted to his smirks, he presented her with one when posing the question.

To anyone, it might have seemed worryingly specific. Cupid just measured him up with her piercing gaze and asked:

“… Did that happen before?” the deadly serious tone added to the ridicule, making Neil crack a smile.

“No, but it might,” he shrugged, hoping the joke had landed well enough to mask the awkwardness threatening to make a scene.

It was not that he did not feel comfortable around her or that there were some strong-founded beliefs she was not to be trusted. Instead, it was what it had always been. What Neil had hinted at during their previous conversation. It was that it had never worked out before. And it was hardly possible that it would now.

Especially considering what she had revealed that last time, too. It was best to be cautious. But that, in the face of those beautiful eyes and fascinating personality, was a challenge.

He did not even know yet just how true that statement would be.

“No, the worst you can expect is lame pickup lines and dumb memes,” unaware of Neil’s slow descent into madness, she replied to the previous question, intertwining a sardonic grin in between the statements “I’d also suggest nudes, but we’re not there yet, I think” it took him an embarrassingly long time to process her words with the mind foolishly lured into the safety of a normal conversation. Well, no more. Shit. „Unless-” before she could say another disastrous word and push him down the staircase towards the pit of insanity, Neil closed her mouth with his palm.

Anything was better than talking to her about prospective nudes. Even touching her face and getting shocked when the warmth of her breath hit his skin, forcing Neil to pull it back almost as fast as he had done it in the first place. She just stared back, relentlessly curious and unmoved.

“We’re definitely not there yet,” aware of the deep blush that had bloomed on his face like a sign of contagion, Neil dropped his gaze onto the floor and murmured the command, “Give me your phone,” the conversation was already a disaster, so might as well. Right?

She laughed and the sound was enough to draw him out of the hiding and look up. Neil already knew he would do whatever he could to make her laugh like that again. And then once more still.

Her warm hand slipped into his palm, passing the phone like a beacon of trust he did not know he could deserve. It was accompanied by a simple quip that still somehow made him feel lightheaded:

“Here, kind sir,” on retreat, her fingers brushed down the length of his digits, stopping for a split second at the tips of his fingers. The resulting sparks were certainly a figment of his imagination, “Any texting rules? Is there anyone that might intercept your messages?” her voice broke through another brief blue screen issue in Neil’s brain and forced him to focus.

Focus on opening the phone app on her phone and typing in his number correctly. The last thing he would have wanted was to fuck up and make a mistake, immediately losing any chances he would have had at a friendship with her. Yes, friendship. Even as an idiot, Neil knew that was all it would be. Which was fine. It really was.

Once he double-checked that the right digits were typed in, there came a second dilemma of the evening. The contact name. Neil stole a glance at her, still patiently waiting for an answer to her questions that he seemed inept to give. It offered a perfect stalling opportunity:

“Rogue mate, maybe, but it’s okay. I can live with his teasing,” it was something to worry about later, considering that no one knew about her yet. If asked, Neil was not sure he could explain why. The betraying part of his brain that always wanted to blurt out some incriminating thoughts admitted it was because he wanted those interactions only for himself, as a secret to cherish in the quiet of his mind.  He slammed the door on that pathetic voice and looked up at her with tentative hope sparking in his chest. It was just another risk to take, right? “Should we… keep this time and day as a standing arrangement thing?” not willing to bet even half a dime on her positive answer, Neil put his attention back on the topic at hand.

Literally. He was still holding her phone. The contact’s name was still empty. He had to think of something.

Then, right when his stomach clenched with that first tell-tale sign of anxiety, the right thing came to mind. The perfect thing.Neil fought the desire to grin like an English cousin of the Joker and saved his number, handing the locked phone back to Cupid. She did not check it, pocketing the device and turning her thoughtful gaze on him:

“Sure thing. I need time to warm you up for those nude pics,” she offered Neil a criminal wink and glanced at the display to check the approaching station.

The nonchalance had the chance of killing him before an inverted bullet would. He was willing to bet on it.

“Can’t wait,” he swallowed hard against the mess of thoughts and emotions in his head and glared at her.

He really could not wait. Maybe. Possibly.

It was both a curse and a blessing that her station was approaching fast, offering maybe three or four minutes more. The strange disappointment coated the back of his throat as Neil allowed himself to stare. To observe her, with her lively eyes and almost permanent cheeky smile. Even now, he did not dare ogle her body, already too aware of the heat of her presence so close to his orbit. The danger was too grave to consider what this would not become.

“I’ve got one more question,” her voice acted like the thread of Ariadne, leading him to the exit from the labyrinth of his own making. Neil met her gaze just in time to notice the playful sparks dancing there, “Are you a cook?” she leaned a little closer again as if testing his waning control and steadied herself against the sudden movement of the train with her hand resting on his shoulder.

Even through the cotton shirt, he could feel the heat of the contact.

It was almost enough to distract him from the ridicule of her question. Almost, because as soon as he had sobered up, Neil did not try to fight the smile pulling at his lips. She was ridiculous.

“No, unless we consider the Risotto Milanese, I can make from scratch,” giving her as good as he got, Neil offered her a wink and reached for the dwindling depositories of courage to cover her hand holding onto the railing.

Admittedly, he was enjoying the guessing game she had decided to make out of the situation. It was a better alternative to Neil telling her the truth, and 1) putting her in potential danger, and 2) making her believe something that did not sound real.

Cupid did not seem bothered by his actions and kept her hand where it was. Her eyes met his as she stated a simple wish:

“Count me in,” then, as if Neil was not yet aware of what a kind of woman she was, she licked her lips thoroughly.

He did not try to imagine what they would taste like.

“When?” as if possessing a mind of its own, his thumb rubbed invisible circles onto the skin between her knuckles.

Neil did not want to be responsible for the actions of his own body. Or for the thoughts that sprang into his mind whenever she gave him that sure smile and bated her lashes.

“You’ll see,” it was her turn to wink, and the confidence in her gaze almost made him believe she knew something he did not.

Like whatever was waiting in their future.

It was a blessing in disguise that the train was now approaching the Southwark station. Neil did not think he could be trusted with more time to spend next to her. Instead, he levelled her with what he hoped was a critical glare and asked:

“Has anyone told you that you’re a nightmare?” he knew there was no chance of losing that affectionate undertone in his voice or making ‘nightmare’ not sound like the most tender of pet names.

Apart from being an idiot, Neil was also a lost cause. It would seem.

The train yet again slowed to a crawling pace as the platform lights etched mirage-like constellations on her face. It was impossible to look away. So, Neil stared as she, the incomparable Cupid, slid her hand down the railing, away from his palm and tapped his wrist. Twice. As if he could have missed the first time.

Just as he was beginning to hope she would leave without giving him another heart attack, she leaned in, closing the space, and pressed a quick peck to his cheek. As soon as he had registered it was happening, it was already over, and Cupid was standing in the carriage doorway with that unchanging smirk on her face:

“More than once,” without waiting for a reply (not that Neil would have had one), she stepped out of the train and disappeared in the crowds of commuters.

Neil was an idiot, a lost cause, and undoubtedly screwed. One way or another.

***

/Unknown number, 5:15 pm/ Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

/✝️, 5:20 pm/ Already?

/✝️, 5:20 pm/ God, you’re fast.

/ 🏹, 5:22 pm/ That’s the effect you have on me 😘

/ 🏹, 5:22 pm/ Clever emoji choice, I gotta admit. Took me a little to find you. What did I get?

/✝️, 5:25 pm/ You’ll see.

/ 🏹, 5:26 pm/ When?

/✝️, 5:30 pm/ Soon 😘

 / 🏹, 5:35 pm/ Ah, delayed gratification. Just wait till I get impatient.

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ And then what?

/ 🏹, 5:47 pm/ I’ll punish you. Something tells me you’d like that.

/✝️, 5:49 pm/ You’re a menace.

/✝️, 5:49 pm/ On second thought, I think I’ll have the nude pics you’ve mentioned.

/ 🏹, 5:50 pm/ Not yet, sweetheart. Practice what you preach first.

/✝️, 5:55 pm/ I’ll see you?

/ 🏹, 5:57 pm/ You’ll see me. You’ll get sick of me even.

/✝️, 5:59 pm/ Challenge accepted, Cupid.

[reallyexists]

I have played five hours of Dwarf Fortress every day for the last four days. It’s probably the greatest video game ever made.

My first two forts, Minefountains and Metalpulleys, were both on adjacent map tiles and both destroyed after slightly over a year by hordes of undead. This probably had something to do with the fact that I started a shitty militia of five dwarves approximately a year in, without constructing any defensive architecture or traps, both times.

Anyway, my third fort Bowloar (that’s “Bowl Oar”, which I guess could refer to like a giant ladle) is on year five and going strong, with no undead in sight. It is located on a tile adjacent to Metalpulleys.

To what do I attribute this success? Is it a total lack of militia, which the local necromancer could see as non-threatening? Is it the steady stream of visitors to our two bustling taverns, both filled with burly mercenaries, monster slayers and (primarily) naked foreign dance troupes? What about the airtight system of drawbridges over three-story pits ringed with weapon traps okay probably it’s that.

I mean, I don’t know that that’s a deterrent. I understand fortress wealth and notoriety is a factor in being besieged, but I don’t think it checks if there’s a single easily-pathable, easily-destroyed doorway protecting every suckling dwarven babe. Although knowing this game, maybe it does. It seems more likely that I’m 10 meters further away from the tower, and therefore outside of its Zone of Terror (tm).

Although Bowloar hasn’t been grabbed by ghouls, its defenses have been tested by the appearance of a giant.

This asshole is named Nikot. He has lived for 370 years (since before the dawn of civilization) doing nothing but fuck shit up. Today, he decides, is an excellent day to come fuck up some shit in the dwarven fortress of Bowloar.

I might be giving myself too much credit, actually. Probably this prehistoric ABDL enthusiast has literally just been wandering aimlessly since the dawn of time, and my shit is just in the path of today’s fuck-upping. Anyway.

The alert sounds that a Big Fucking Guy is here, and I immediately activate the emergency burrow and order all the drawbridge levers pulled. I take special care not to fling anybody haplessly walking over the bridge to their untimely demise or maiming, as has happened two (2) times upon activating the main drawbridges in the past. This is my third time activating the main drawbridges.

Nikot proceeds to kill a bunch of stuff in my walled-off outdoor pen (they used to be in an enclosed pen, but they ate all the grass and started fighting each other). The two adult yaks in there manage to wound him, and he wears himself out wrestling all these animals, but the fucker has a bottomless well of stamina and durability. He just takes a nap and keeps trucking.

While he’s napping in the pen I consider flooding it with water to try and drown him. I had just learned to route water underground to an indoor cistern just as he attacked. But that kind of engineering project is something you have to plan for, apparently. He hops over the wall and goes to meet one of my many visitors.

He wrestles a lady to the ground, gets her shield and greataxe off her, but succumbs to exhaustion before he can finish her off. She’s lying there bleeding out, and uses the last ounce of her strength to bite the shit out of his head over pages and pages of the combat report. Just a drop in the bucket for this fucking guy.

Nikot gets back up and spends all of autumn killing every visitor to the fort, including this year’s dwarven trade caravan. Just days of killing guys with his bare hands until he passes out from exhaustion and pain, they whale on him until they pass out as well, then he wakes up and slaughters them. The alerts above are from the second wave; all told he kills like 10 people, including exactly one unlucky fort resident. Everybody else is locked up inside, spending most of their time partying and hanging out like usual.

At this point Nikot has breezily wheeled around the fortress twice, killing scores of dudes and being uninterested in breaching my defenses. Finally he goes to cross the outer drawbridge after being baited by a cat, he dodges a weapon trap, Kirk-rolls into the pit and a rock falls on his head and he dies.

This is probably the kind of thing that just kills you no matter how big you are, but I feel like it helped that he got worn down by a solid three months of constant wrestling.

Somehow a baby yak and two geese evaded his initial onslaught on the pen. The geese maybe hid in the water, or else they didn’t piss him off for some reason. The baby was probably able to hide while he was passed out. He “didn’t feel anything while in conflict”, but is “indignant after being forced to endure the decay of a mother”. Which is fair enough, sorry about that little dude. He literally just got born, and then his mom explodes into a pile of viscera and hooves and he has to sit by the corpse while it rots.

It’s clear from this experience that combat can be a bit of a crapshoot, especially against a guy from the dawn of time (and this is probably one of the weaker, less crazy ones!). It’d still be nice to get a militia going soon, though, if only so I don’t feel so helpless.

Aaaand there’s another one. Good thing I rearmed those bridge traps!

[marcusrobertobaq]

I wonder what Kamski thought when Connor refuses to shoot Chloe. He calls Connor a deviant cuz the test was positive for empathy as he refused an order he gave, but at the same time he also seems to kinda know about things and calling Connor a deviant just to provoke a reaction. Connor's reaction is a pretty clear signal there's some brainwashing shit going on, this fear of being deviant.

I wonder what mf would do next with this info in mind.

He could conclude CyberLife indeed improved the autonomy capability in the RK 8° gen and how being programmed to make choices alone (at least for the most of the time) can speed up the hyper intelligent androids development process.

What he always wanted was to test was the android capability of feeling empathy for another one but til when this "longer leash" could impact in the emocional capacity interference in decision making? After all this emotional capacity is the reason androids often break free and throw every "how an android should act" rule in the garbage can. But what if they ain't got nothing to break free from? The simply reason Connor didn't deviate in that moment was cuz there were no orders related to anything besides questioning Kamski and the only person that could've ordered him left him... Alone to decide again. The difference between the "must" and the "should".

People usually expect dumb robots, silly tin cans, docile and obedient computers with no sense of self, only following a path set. I don't think this is what Kamski wanted, quite the opposite. The emotional capacity also helps but can also get out of control and have negative impacts, making an android become a savage animal with no sorta thing as "rationality" but urge in feel pleasure, in release everything they got accumulated inside - even if for 10 secs. A weak point that can be exploited and be the cause of defeat.

But what if the idea is the perfect balance between emotions, the sense of self and autonomy? All this smells like the cliche plot searching for the superior beings, the evolution, the next generation. It's often tied to the bio, enhancing humans, making super humans and shit. But what if mf is so fucking tired and already gave up the human race and thinks another "species" deserve the right to evolve and take humans place?

Must be fun realizing these superior beings, due to being based on humans, can replicate the same negative human traits mf been running from. Well, it's part of the testing process. Quite the scientific and social experiment, man. Then we got the $ part - androids are products, after all. Everybody wanna buy one to the job for 'em, right?

I can't help but think the way androids were spread so fast everywhere was all part of this "test" and also a plan to really replace humans. Make people realize androids are just better. I know there's the "why try X with a human if you can have an android to do it for you so you can spend your time doing what you really want?" propaganda but I think this propaganda is also something that helps in spreading the word, although not 100% just a lie. Make everybody so dependent on androids u just can't live without 'em or just remove 'em without having long term consequences. Kinda like a ... Addiction? It's the way they came to stay.

Part 1 concluded. Now what happens when these same androids start prioritizing themselves and their own kind leaving everybody in panic cuz they got so used to androids in a specific way mfs got too comfortable/with 'em guard low? 😂

Imagine people discovering the android detective can disobey laws to cover a megacorporation back, the famous painter's android being part of a project about autonomous androids - androids that can do whatever the fuck they want alone as long as they don't break a direct order set by a handler - not by mod, not by underground reprogram but by default, internationally. Cyber-motherfucking-Life, not a surprise but it would def scare mfs with low guard, mfs that thought something like this would never happen. And the idea of androids becoming 100% autonomous, not depending on humans for anything - mfs that believed AIs could never reach a consciousness status even if hyper-complex cuz they still defend someone's interests and priorities. But what happens when this someone's interest is exactly the androids doing everything by themselves, alone, cuz they just wanted and even better if goes against humans, the so called masters, interests?

Kamski is smiling and laughing if everything goes according to plan, bro. But I doubt things can ever go 100% according to the plan. As u see Kamski and CyberLife megacorp board got 'em diversions, it's a capitalist world. A part can even want the same thing but it can be for different purposes - purposes that diverge again, not to mention the method, the way X thing is achieved. Engineering a revolution, creating a new intelligent species ain't a small shit, it's some big shit for a trillionaire mehacorp like CyberLife and at the same time it's something negative in the public eye due to "androids being tools", something that can fuck with 'em credibility, reputation, image.

They knew it could happen eventually and had no way to actually not ever let it happen so they've prepared for it - in a way. If it ever happens we gotta have control over it, conditions they can set. But Kamski? I feel like he wants the opposite, he wants the androids free from CyberLife's hands cuz, let's be honest: android emotional capacity is a way of making money, deviancy is a way of making money. It's also a way of leaving more marks in history to stand up and say "we're the ones dealing with this shit now" imo. Dude wanna see chaos, wanna see androids actually raising against 'em masters not bowing down to 'em. If they manage to solve everything with minimal losses for each side it still proves androids are just better.

Honestly, I see the whole empathy thing in a quite fucked up way. Empathy to me is a mechanism, a behavior shared by social species. This mechanism can make a group united - make it become a group in the first place. Add mutual goals to it and we got shit going. If androids are capable of empathy towards other androids, they can not only prioritize androids over a human's order but also want to help the other android. This sentiment when shared can lead to a group being formed in the future, a group formed under similar thoughts, feelings and emotions. Maybe that's why Kamski wanted to test androids empathy capability? Besides the whole "there's no reason for androids have anything for other androids or even prioritize 'em out of personal choice cuz they're just brainless machines" shit, ofc. Maybe not only the empathy capability but any positive emotional response from android to android, anything that could make 'em want to disobey exactly cuz there's no reason to.

But what happens when androids can disobey...by default? Have positive feelings towards androids without breaking any expectation? And the worst: it being weaponized? Used in $omeone'$ be$t interest$? When even becoming free is simply part of the plan? A fucking test?

Geez, it already became a ramble. I'm outta here.

[chrysochroma]

kept out of sight, sinister and cowardly

Rating: Teen And Up

Words: 16.4k

Fandom: Double Life, S9 HC x S2 Empires crossover

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH, Mild Gore, Possession, Corruption, Angst, Death, Blood, Violence, Horror, Crying, Arguments, Manipulation, Trauma

this is my gift for the @mcythorrorgiftexchange for the lovely @yeaveragenerd :DD

Read on Ao3

~ A canary flies up into the wide blue sky, finally free from the darkness. His coal mine waits underneath, patient and understanding. The canary is free, but empty. For what is he without his coal mine? ~

Tango swung his pickaxe, digging it into the stone wall in front of him. He was in a cave he had found a bit away from spawn, gathering basic resources for the coming week. 

This was Tango’s third time participating in this tournament, so early game preparations were somewhat of a routine to him. He suspected that most of the other players were doing similar things, just getting geared up for later. These first few hours were usually pretty slow. Still, though, there was a bit of hesitance in the back of his mind. According to the overseers of the games, a new feature had been included for this series, and a few of the players had already found out about it. 

Impulse had found his soulmate, Bdubs, first, barely 20 minutes into the game. Tango was there when they both realized that the other had been responsible for the random sparks of pain in the back of their mind. Still, both were grateful to have found each other. 

A few minutes after that, though, Tango decided that he would really test how well the soulbonds worked, just for fun. It was a spontaneous decision, and in his defense, what else was he supposed to do with Etho standing so close to a cliff? It was barely a drop, only about 6 blocks, but it was still enough to induce a shriek from Etho and a punch to his arm from Joel, who had subsequently realized he and Etho were soulbound. 

Tango could feel the echo of another life attached to his, however faint it was. He had no idea who his soulmate was, and honestly, he was a bit scared to find out. Most of the other players had found theirs already, and at this point, there weren’t many others he could be paired with. He almost felt as if he didn’t have a soulmate at all. 

Tango sunk his pickaxe into the stone in front of him, slowly chipping out a tunnel deeper into the ground and filling his inventory with stone. About an hour had passed, and he was now comfortably kitted out with mostly iron, and even a couple diamonds, so he started to retrace his steps through the cave he was in. It was quiet underground as he walked, just the faint sounds of running water and his shoes tapping against the stone floor, but it still took him a minute to hear the other footsteps behind him. 

Tango froze. The footsteps continued. Tango turned to look back at the path he had come from, and his eyes caught the faint gleam of a torch casting light on the cave walls. Then a voice echoed through the cavern.  

“Hello?” It was Etho, presumably with Joel. 

“Yeah? Over here,” he called back. 

The torchlight got closer, lighting up what had previously been darkness due to Tango’s lack of supplies. Then Etho and Joel walked out from one of the tunnels leading into the cave, each of them decked out in iron armor. 

“Tango, there you are,” Etho said. 

“You find your soulmate yet?” Joel asked. 

Tango shook his head. “Nope. At this point I’m starting to think I don’t have one,” he joked. 

Etho shrugged. “You aren’t exactly out looking.”

“I’m sure I’ll find them eventually.” 

“You could always die,” Joel commented. “Then you would definitely know.”

Tango laughed, although a bit hesitantly. “Yeah, that would work, huh? And it would be easy, too–don’t really have any armor. I feel so naked,” Tango said. “Like I feel like anyone could just come by and murder me-” He snapped. “Like that!”

“I miss being enchanted,” Joel commented. 

“Yeah, it just makes things so much easier,” Tango agreed. 

“But the only table is in the City,” Etho reminded them.

Joel shrugged. “I mean, eventually someone will steal it, and then we won’t have to go all the way down there just to enchant.”

“How much do you wanna bet it’ll be Scar?” Tango asked. 

Etho scoffed. “It’s always Scar.”

“Exactly!”

Etho hummed in response. 

Tango continued to mine, and the other two started to venture into a different section of the cave, informally ending their conversation. Tango could still faintly hear them though, breaking blocks and talking. For a minute, they went quiet, but Tango didn’t pay much mind. He stepped back out into the larger cavern, which was still shrouded in darkness. 

From above him, he heard the swipe of a sword making contact with something, then a sizzle. Tango looked up just in time to see a creeper fall down on top of him, already flickering. A hiss filled his ears as his muscles tensed up, trying to save himself from the coming blast. He pulled up his shield, doing his best to hide behind it, to protect himself—to protect his soulmate—when an explosion rocked the cavern, roaring through his ears and flooding his vision with burning embers and a cloud of gunpowder. Fear surged through his heart, a mixture of his and his poor soulmate’s. There was fire all around him, burning white-hot, and then it was gone. 

Tango gasped. The forest was strikingly quiet, aside from some faintly chirping birds. His breathing was shaky, but whether it was from what had just happened or what was going to happen, he didn’t know. 

Another voice came from further in the trees. “Tango!” He recognized it a second after. 

“Jimmy.” Tango’s voice was much quieter, barely audible. 

He and Jimmy had only met once before, in the very first of these games, when he had died to Tango’s challenge/poorly disguised trap. And now they were soulmates. Not exactly a great first impression.

“Tango?” Jimmy yelled again, his voice getting closer. 

“I’m over here,” Tango replied, loud enough for Jimmy to actually hear him. 

Tango’s eyes caught the bright blond of Jimmy’s hair as he made it through the trees. Then they met each other’s canary yellow eyes. Tango froze. Jimmy strode towards him, closing the gap between them. 

“What happened, Tango?” His voice was forceful, demanding, and it made Tango grimace. 

“Uh- hi! Hi.” He paused for a split second. “I’m so sorry.” 

Jimmy sighed, and Tango held his breath. “Take me through it,” Jimmy said.

A rush of air escaped Tango’s lips. “Etho and Joel, man, they’re insane. I was caving, and they were with me—I think they were mad because I almost killed them at the beginning, and they just-” Tango cut himself off with another exhale, then met his soulmate’s eyes. “God, I’m so sorry.” He was frozen in painful anticipation, waiting for any reaction that Jimmy cared to give, and hoped that he could at least salvage their relationship enough to keep himself alive. 

Along with Tango, Jimmy had been a participant in every one of the past games, and every single time, he died first. First deaths were a big thing in these games, even more so when it was one person who died first consistently. To say that he garnered a reputation for it would be an understatement. It was almost expected at this point, for Jimmy to die first. He became the canary of the death games, forever fated to alert the rest of the players to the toxin that was this tournament, and whose warnings were mocked rather than heeded. And now Tango had been the one to doom him, like his own personal coal mine, with which he shared a soul. Jimmy couldn’t escape the dark, and Tango couldn’t pull him out of it, no matter how much either of them tried. 

Jimmy kept his eyes locked on Tango’s. There was a hint of a solemn smile on his face. “It’s okay.”

Tango blinked. 

“It’s okay,” Jimmy repeated. “We just need to pick ourselves up, get new gear, get some supplies, and we’ll be good.”

“Yeah.” Tango hesitated. “Yeah. We can do that. That’s a good idea. I’ll-“ He went to retrieve a pickaxe from his belt, then realized it was empty. “Right. Um…” He closed his fist, clutching the empty air, then took a breath and walked over to the nearest tree. “Guess we’ll just have to start over. I’ll go get us new stuff right away, and maybe you can get us some food?” 

“Yeah, that works. Are you sure you don’t want help with getting gear, though?”

The thought of himself back underground, in the dark, alone, almost made Tango reconsider, but he still shook his head. “I’m fine. But thank you," he added. 

Jimmy nodded. “Alright. I’ll go work on getting us stuff to eat, then.” 

“I want to enchant today, too.” Tango said. 

“Isn’t the table in the Ancient City?” His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Yeah, but I think it’s worth it. I really want us to be enchanted as quickly as possible.”

“Okay, yeah, we can do that. That is probably a good idea,” Jimmy agreed. 

Tango nodded, but didn’t say anything. 

Jimmy paused for a second, took a step away, back towards the trees, then stopped. “Y’know, I was starting to think that I didn’t have a soulmate at all or something,”

“Yeah. Me too.”

He nodded. “Nice meeting you, Tango.”

Tango felt himself relax just a bit. “You too.”

“Meet back up here?”

“Yeah. In an hour, probably.”

“Okay.” He started to turn away.

“And Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. Again.”

Jimmy smiled. “Don’t be. It’s just life, and we’ll get through it together.”

Tango’s heartbeat was dull in his ears as he mined through dark gray stone, making a staircase down deep into the earth. Jimmy was following behind him, staying quiet, although he didn’t really have a reason to—not yet, anyway. 

For hours before, Tango had spent his time mining similar tunnels through stone in an effort to restore at least some of the supplies he had before getting blown up, in addition to acquiring some new materials that would come in handy in about a few minutes. His inventory was filled with premade armor pieces, as well as weapons and tools to enchant, and a bit of an outlier among the rest of his items: some snowballs. He also had plenty of torches on hand, deciding that he would prefer to keep out of the dark if possible. 

He broke a section of stone out from in front of him, revealing a huge cavern, covered in so much sculk that it looked like a night sky. Their tunnel had left them suspended well above the city, glowing dimly below. Tango could see the faint gleam of blue soulfire through the ruins of whatever structures had once been there, in addition to the ever-vast sea of stars. 

Completely silently, Tango carved a staircase out of the wall, down to the city floor. Jimmy followed close behind him, not making a sound. The city was silent, too, like it was waiting for them. 

Finally, Tango set his feet on the old stone tiles that made up the city streets, and stared out into the darkness before him. It was like there was nothing there, regardless of the dim light scattered throughout. It seemed cold, empty and completely abandoned, but he supposed it being abandoned was better than not.

Almost immediately after stepping off the staircase, Tango picked a torch from his inventory and held it up, letting its light drive away some of the darkness. It was much less effective than Tango would’ve liked, only lighting up a few feet in front of him, but it was better than nothing. He considered placing torches throughout the city as they went, but kept himself from doing so in fear of drawing something else towards the light. 

He held his torch up a bit higher, then motioned for Jimmy to follow him into the depths of the city. He managed to guide the two of them towards the center, where he could see the faint shine of an enchanting table. He traced a winding path through the ruins, all of his movements silent and precise, desperate not to awaken what he knew lurked in the shadows. Then another light snagged his eyes. He turned to see where it was coming from and found it immediately after: Etho and Joel standing at the base of the staircase he had made. 

Tango let out a slightly shaky breath, then looked back at Jimmy. “We might need to hurry up,” he said, his voice barely even loud enough to be a whisper. 

Jimmy responded with a quizzical expression, and Tango gestured back to the staircase. Jimmy’s eyes darted over to where Tango had pointed and stayed there for a second, then back to him. His nod was a bit hesitant, but understanding. 

They continued through the city, still silent as ever. He could hear Joel and Etho’s footsteps across the city, seeming to Tango like gunshots in the silence. There was a sense of panic deep seated in his heart, and a barrage of thoughts were cycling through his brain. 

They’re so loud, it’ll hear them, we’re so close, can we make it, we need to be careful, it’s so dark here, we’re gonna die-

Something grabbed Tango’s shoulder from behind and he spun around, sword in hand, to see Jimmy. His soulmate jumped back, startled by the sudden movement, but his gaze was still focused on Tango. Tango could barely see Jimmy—he had traded his torch out for the sword, plunging them into darkness—but there was concern in his eyes and a hint of pity in his heart, he could feel it. Then he remembered the fear in his own mind and forced himself to relax, replacing some of the terror with a twinge of guilt. 

“Sorry.” He only mouthed the word, still too scared to put any sound behind it.

Jimmy nodded and smiled, then responded by mouthing “It’s okay.”

Tango forced out a small nod, then turned back towards the enchanter and kept moving. 

On the other side of the city, Etho and Joel were working their way towards the table, too, albeit a bit more quickly than Tango and Jimmy. They were louder, though, less careful, less protected, less mindful of the dangers that lie in the darkness. 

An iron plated boot hit the hard stone tile, sending a crack echoing through the cavern. Tango froze. A second passed. A wave of light and spine-chilling clicks gleamed across the floor of the city as sensor after sensor lit up, all triggered by that one sound. Eventually, the wave subsided, but not before sending a shriek screaming into the air and drilling deep into Tango’s bones. 

Tango’s eyes shot to where Etho and Joel were standing, giving them a wide-eyed glare, a mix of terror and fury. Joel shrugged in response, which made Tango cock his head to the side. Joel nudged Etho and whispered something, then took his bow off his back. Tango stepped back as his eyes got even bigger in disbelief. Next to him, a flicker of confusion passed through Jimmy’s face. Then the two of them watched as Joel nocked an arrow, then pulled back the string. Tango shook his head sharply and Joel let go of the string, sending it snapping back with a twang. 

“No!” Tango shouted. He clamped his jaw shut just after the sound escaped his mouth, but it was too late. 

Ripples of glowing cyan expanded from around each set of soulmates, bringing piercing shrieks and waves of midnight along with. The arrow Joel had fired landed just in front of Tango, sticking into the stone with a crack, but he barely noticed. Instead, his eyes were on the ground between the pairs, and what was climbing out of it. 

Bone white claws were stabbed into the sculk-coated tile, piercing through the deepslate like it was gold. A pair of horns were reaching up into the air, dripping in fungi and shining almost like they were wet. It brought a frigid rush of air rushing through the cavern, icy enough to make even Tango feel as though it was ripping through his skin and tearing muscle from his bones. The ground was shaking, almost like it too was shivering from the cold. Worse, though, was the heartbeat. It pounded its way into Tango’s skull, drowning out all of his other thoughts and replacing them with nothing but dread. The wind had ripped the fire from his torch, leaving them in darkness again, but it seemed even more gloomy now. The shadows were creeping up on them, surrounding them from all sides. The dim light from the soul fire was gone now, too, leaving only the glowing, pulsing souls locked in the chest of the creature in front of them, and the luminous pages of the enchanting table’s tome. 

It roared. The sound was deafening, leaving a ringing shock in Tango’s ears. He was frozen to the spot, staring at it in horror. The table was right there, but so was the creature. Jimmy grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, away from both of them. They stumbled back into the pitch black ruins, filling the halls with their frantic footsteps. 

Tango took a quick glance over his shoulder, back into the center of the city. It was still there, and it was looking right at them, staring right at Tango with the eyes it didn’t have. It opened its mouth. A growl echoed through the city. Then a sound like the ragged inhale of broken lungs came from behind, right before an ear-splitting shriek screamed through the air, driving itself like thunder into Tango’s brain.

His mind was pounding, his heart was racing, his lungs were screaming, maybe he was screaming, too. He was stuck. The boom echoed through his head, ricocheting in his mind and building in his ears. To him, there was nothing else. Nothing but the blasting roar, like an explosion. 

There was something in the air all around him. Small particles that got sucked into his lungs as he heaved for breath, taking short inhales and even shorter exhales. He coughed, driving some of it out of his throat, but most of it was still stuck. His hack was echoed by another three from behind him. Jimmy’s coughs were sharper, though, as he tried to clear his throat of the spores. 

Tango reached out into the dark, then latched onto Jimmy’s hand. He held it tight, trying to steady both of them. The fear was creeping back into his head, and he was painfully aware of the noise they were making. Jimmy was still coughing, and Tango was breathless, and it was getting closer. He squeezed Jimmy’s hand. 

How could he fix it? How could he save them? They had to make it out. They couldn’t lose another life. But how?

He reached into his inventory and grabbed a snowball. He pulled his arm back and chucked it across the city, over the creature’s head, right at Joel and Etho. It hit the ground and sent snow scattering over the sculk coated tile. The Warden stopped. Tango threw another snowball. It turned away from Tango, then faced where the snowballs had hit. He threw another. It started to walk towards them. Etho and Joel both froze as another snowball hit the stone. It charged forward, and Tango ran, towing Jimmy behind him. 

He was moving as quickly and as quietly as he could, retracing their path through the city. It was still dark, and he could feel his snare drum heartbeat on his ribcage, but he continued. His hand was still holding Jimmy’s and he could still hear him coughing. A millisecond of worry flashed across his mind but was quickly drowned out by the stress. 

Even further behind them, he could hear Etho and Joel screaming. It was roaring, and shaking the ground, the sculk around it lighting up at its movements. He could hear the clangs of swords against something much too tough to be cut, and the thwacks of arrows hitting their target but doing nothing, and the creaking of the wood of a shield as it failed to protect from the dangers around them. 

Still, they kept moving. They kept going, finally making it out of the darkness. To the tunnel. Out of the city. To the surface. 

A message in bright, sunny yellow flashed across his vision.

Smallishbeans was obliterated by a sonically-charged shriek

Then right after it:

Etho died

They kept moving, and Jimmy kept coughing, and they kept their hands intertwined. The deepslate around them shifted into stone, then dirt, and then air. They were out. The sun was on their faces, and the breeze was in their hair, and their Ranch was on the horizon. And Jimmy was still coughing. 

His mind finally clear of darkness and panic, Tango was finally able to help him. He rushed over to the nearby river, pulling his soulmate along with him, and leading his soulmate to take a drink. Jimmy cupped his hands under the water, collecting a little puddle of it before raising his hands to his mouth and taking a sip.

Tango could feel a bit of an itch in his throat, but nothing that could cause a cough like that. He figured that he could feel a bit of whatever Jimmy had through the soulbond, which worried him even more. Had he caused it? He could still feel some of those particles in the back of his throat. 

Jimmy gulped down more water, his cough finally subsiding for a moment. 

“Do you think you’re ready to get back to the Ranch?” Tango asked. “It’ll be easier to figure out what’s going on at home.”

He took another sip, then nodded. “Yeah.” He stood, and then the two started walking in the direction of their house. 

The journey didn’t take long, but about halfway through it, Jimmy’s cough returned. He stopped and brought a hand up to his mouth to try and stifle it, but was unsuccessful. Tango stood next to him, his expression made of pure concern. 

“What is this?” Tango muttered to himself. 

Jimmy choked down a cough. “I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s just keep going.”

“Okay.” He didn’t know what else to say.

After another couple minutes, they reached the walls bordering their Ranch and made their way inside. Jimmy sat down on the bed as Tango went to get more water and some food from their storage. He returned with a few loaves of bread and some bottles of water, which he handed to his soulmate before sitting down next to him. A couple minutes passed in silence as Jimmy ate and drank, until Tango asked a question. 

“Has something like this happened before?”

Jimmy hesitated for a second before shaking his head. “I mean, my lungs have always been kind of bad, but nothing like this.”

Tango nodded. 

The pair fell back into quiet, both lost in their own heads. 

At least they were alive. Whatever this was, they would figure it out together. 

At least they made it out. They didn’t get what they came for, though. 

“I’m gonna go back down.” Tango said. 

Jimmy frowned. “I don’t think we should go right now, we should rest for a bit.”

He paused. “I think it’s better if I go alone.”

“What?” Jimmy turned to Tango, his eyebrows scrunched. “No, you aren’t, we go together-“

Tango shook his head once. “Whatever you have started down there. There is no way you’re going back, okay?”

“No,” Jimmy repeated. “I am not letting you go back down there alone, we barely made it out with both of us.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tango reassured him. “We need enchantments.”

“Do we? I mean, none of the other players have them," he argued. 

“Yes, we do.” Tango’s voice was firm. “It never hurts to be prepared.”

“Yeah, I guess, but can you at least wait until there are other people?”

“I can handle it,” Tango said, ignoring his still-jittery heart.

Jimmy paused, looking at Tango. “Are you sure we need it?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jimmy sighed. “Please be careful. Please don’t die-“

“I’m not going to get us killed again.”

“I- okay.”

There was a quick pause. 

“Can I have your armor? And any tools you want enchanted.” Tango held out his hand, and Jimmy gave him his armor, along with a sword, bow, and pickaxe, however reluctantly. “Thank you.”

Tango put all of the armor pieces away, then put his hand in Jimmy’s. “I’ll be careful,” he said, looking into his soulmate’s eyes. His gaze darted away to look out one of the windows, then back to Jimmy just as quick. “I promise.”

“Okay.” There was some kind of reluctance on his face, so subtle Tango couldn’t place it. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked. 

Jimmy frowned a bit. “I’ll be fine. Are you… Can you tell?”

“A little,” Tango admitted. “But not much. I’m feeling more… emotions.”

“Ah.”

The candlelight flame of fear in the back of Tango’s heart grew, then was snuffed out. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I’ll get this stuff enchanted, and then I’ll come back home, and we’ll be safe.” He squeezed Jimmy’s hand. 

He sighed, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Tango let go, and Jimmy watched as he walked back outside and started in the direction of the tunnel he had made. He was keeping his breathing steady as he descended into the earth, holding a torch out in front of him as he walked, regardless of the ones already placed on the tunnel walls. He ventured back into the darkness, into the city, so slow that he was barely moving. He crept through the ruins like the darkness itself was preying upon him. It felt as though he had to force his heart to keep beating, like it would suddenly stop just so he could be quieter. He could feel the extra weight of Jimmy’s armor in his inventory, and the extra fear from Jimmy’s mind in his heart. Both were ever-present, a reminder of what he was here for and why he needed to make it back. 

He made his way to the center of the city, then stopped. In front of him, framed by an ancient portal covered in sculk, was a red-draped altar and a gleaming book floating atop it. He stepped up to the table and set down a chunk of lapis lazuli, then turned his gaze to the tome. His eyes were scanning for Protection and Unbreaking, Efficiency, Sharpness, Mending, anything that could help. He paused for a split second after seeing the enchantment for Blast Protection, but continued. He kept his mind alert as he read through the enchantments they required, blessing each of the objects in turn. He enchanted Jimmy’s gear first, then his own, slowly burning through the lapis he had brought. 

He set his chest plate on the altar, then started to flip through the pages. Once again, his eyes caught on the enchantment for Blast Protection. It took just a second of hesitation before he read the enchantment, crushing a small chunk of lapis over the armor and imbuing it with magic. A gleam of iridescent purple slid across the iron, and something in Tango’s mind calmed. 

A drop of something wet hit his forehead. It was dark turquoise and cold, leaving a trail of its path as it rolled down his face. He looked up to see where it had come from and another drop fell, coating the surface of his eye. 

Tango gasped and stumbled back, blinking furiously. He rubbed his eye, pressing hard with his thumb—a bit too hard. The darkness spread, flooding across his other eye and blocking out his vision. His heart hammered in his chest and his movements grew panicked, frantically trying to get the substance out of his eyes so he could see again. Then he stilled. His mind calmed down, his heartbeat slowed, and he let his hands drop to his sides. Darkness still coated his eyes. He stood still for a second, before a shimmer of aqua flitted across them. 

Tango grabbed the pickaxe from his belt and watched a wave of glowing purple slide across it. Then he swung the pickaxe, digging the tip of it into the base of the table. After a couple more strikes, the base of the altar was destroyed, leaving the tome sitting atop the rubble, its light now dimmed. Tango reached down and picked up the book, snapping it shut and tucking it into one of his pockets. 

He blinked, and the darkness leaked out of his vision. He gasped and tried to steady himself, unsure of what had just happened. His eyes were darting around the city, looking for any sign of a threat, but found nothing. Then he looked back at his pickaxe, and the purple shine it had. He took a breath, then started back towards his tunnel in silence.

Tango stepped back onto grass, on the surface once again. The sun was starting to set, glowing orangey-red and painting the sky with tints of yellow and pink. The Ranch was casting a shadow on the ground in front of it, the torches mounted on its walls letting off pinpricks of light. Seeing it again made him smile, knowing that he had made it back okay. He could feel Jimmy’s mind fill with relief in response. Although Jimmy didn’t quite know what was happening, Tango smiling was enough for him to know that things were okay. 

He stepped up to the doors to their house and reached down to open one when the handle moved away from his hand and the door swung open. He was met with Jimmy’s smile, gleaming like he knew everything was okay.

“Hi!” Jimmy exclaimed. He walked towards Tango, going to wrap his arms around him in a hug, but as he did so, he pulled his hand up to his mouth and coughed into it, half stumbling into him in the process.  

“H- oh, are you okay?” Tango asked.

“Yeah, I’m just-” He coughed a couple more times. “It’s just a cough.”

“You weren’t this bad when I left,” Tango noticed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tango led Jimmy into their house, both supporting him and pulling him towards the table in their kitchen. Jimmy pulled his arm out of Tango’s grasp and held his hand instead. 

“I’m fine, really. Hey, and you’re fine too! Did you get everything that you wanted enchanted?” “Yeah, we’re all set!” Tango pulled all of Jimmy’s tools and armor out of his inventory and set them on the table. Each one had a rippling amethyst sheen to it, imbued with power and magic. 

“Wow,” Jimmy said. He picked his sword up off the table and held it up, tilting the blade and watching a sparkle of light shine across it. Then he picked up the rest of his gear and stowed it away, admiring the luster to each of them before putting them away. “Y’know, I really do feel safer with all of these enchants.”

“Yeah, they’re definitely going to come in handy,” Tango responded, slipping his hand back into one of his pockets. Then his finger brushed against something unexpected: the leather cover of a book. 

He ran his thumb across the material, feeling the details engraved into it. They were intricate and elegant, as far as Tango could tell. He grabbed onto the book and pulled it out of the pocket just enough to catch a glimpse of it. It had a brown leather cover with gold framing the edges and filling in the carvings. There was text carved into it too, but the words didn’t seem to have any meaning to them. 

Snuff, galvanize, imbue, self, creature, fresh, ignite, free.

Tango let the book fall back into his pocket, electing to ignore it, then pulled out his own sword, its violet gleam reflecting in his eyes. “Now that we have this, we’ll be safe,” Tango said. “And we can figure out how to heal you.”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah.” He paused for a moment. “I’m so glad you’re okay.��

“Yeah, me too. I mean- I’m glad that you’re okay, not that I’m okay-” Tango grimaced. “Well I’m glad that I’m okay too but what’s more important is that you’re okay, which you are, and I’m glad.” He paused, took a breath, then looked at Jimmy. “I’m glad that you’re okay.”

Jimmy laughed, poorly disguising it as a cough, then actually coughed. Tango moved closer, concerned, but Jimmy recovered before he could do anything. Jimmy recognized the fear in his heart as not his own, then pursed his lips. “It’s fine, you said it yourself, we just need to figure this out, and then we’ll be okay, right?’

The reluctance on Tango’s face was clear. “Yeah.”

“We can do it.”

“Yeah. We’ll fix it.”

-

Rays of sunshine shone into the Ranch, marking the second day of the games. Jimmy could hear birds quietly chirping outside as he blinked himself awake. Tango was still asleep next to him, his expression more calm than Jimmy had seen. Something like sadness, or pity, or guilt flashed in his heart, which he solemnly acknowledged.

The blaring sound of a goat horn’s call trumpeted through the arena, and it was subsequently answered by two others right after.

Tango groaned, woken up by the noise. “Come on,” he muttered. “It’s too early.”

“We need to get some of those,” Jimmy decided. “I cannot stand them just sounding their horns all the time, and how they all respond to each other-” He cut himself off with an exasperated scoff. “We just need to get some.”

“Can’t it wait a few minutes?” Tango asked, half mumbling into his pillow. “And you’re supposed to be the sick one, how are you so energetic?” Jimmy waved him off. “I’m fine, see? It must’ve gone away already!” Then, almost as if on cue, a cough erupted from his throat, making him double over in pain as the hacks continued.

“Woah, hey,” Tango reached out a hand and put it on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, his hand still up to his mouth. “Yeah.”

Tango raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He climbed out of bed and walked over to a chest on the other side of the room, picked out some steak and more bottles of water, then walked back over to the bed and sat down next to his soulmate, handing him the items. 

“Thanks,” he said, then took a long drink of water. 

Tango gave a small smile in response. “If you really want to get some horns, I think I know where we could get a couple.”

Jimmy’s eyes lit up and Tango felt a surge of happiness in his heart. “Really?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Tango smiled. 

It took them a couple hours and some much needed help from Pearl, but they finally had their horns. 

Tango was studying his, spinning it slowly in his hands, his eyes following its grooves.

“We should blow them at the same time!” Jimmy was practically jumping up and down holding his new goat horn.

There was a second of silence before Tango responded. His eyes darted away from the horn and up to Jimmy’s. “Huh?”

“Hey, you knew what I meant,” he complained, giving Tango a playful smack on the arm. 

“Oh, right,” Tango forced out a quick laugh. “Yeah, let’s do it together. Ready?”

Jimmy nodded, and then the two of them each brought their horn up to their lips. 

A pair of four quick notes sounded through the arena, ringing through the air like chiming bells. Jimmy squealed and Tango laughed, both followed by those same four notes once again.

Jimmy was grinning ear-to-ear. “Oh, I love it!” 

“It’s amazing!” Tango agreed.

“And now, we can-” He cut himself off with another call of his horn, which was followed by a different call from across the map, answering his. “Yes! They’re answering!”

“And ours match, too, so we’ll always know that it’s us!” Tango beamed. “Oh, I am so glad we did this.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Hey, Scar,” Joel called. “Where are you?”

“Just over here,” he replied, coming from somewhere behind a wall of bamboo. “Would you like to come see the pandas?”

“Sure,” he replied, following Etho towards the Sanctuary.

The pair let themselves in through the gate and walked up to Scar, who was feeding one of the animals. 

Scar turned to look at them, then smiled. “What can I do for you two gentlemen? There’s some bamboo in that chest over there if you’d like to feed the Jellies, no cost although donations are very much appreciated-”

“We came to ask about the enchanter,” Etho interjected.

Scar gave a quizzical expression. “Well what about it?” “Where is it?” Joel demanded, his voice blunt.

“It should be in the Deep Dark, is it not?”

“No. We went down there to enchant yesterday and got killed by the blummin’ Warden, and when we tried to go back today, the table was gone. So where is it?” He asked again.

“I don’t have it. I haven’t even been in the Deep Dark yet, Grian banned me from going,” he frowned. 

“Are you sure about that?” Joel pressed. 

Meanwhile, Etho had started to drift away from the other two and was studying the base of the Sanctuary’s walls, searching for any seemingly out of place dirt.

“Why, yes, I’m sure,” Scar huffed. “Does it look like I have the enchanter? If I did, I would be all shiny, which I am not. Sadly.”

Joel scowled. “Do you know who would have it, then?”

“No idea. Do you?” He paused for a second. “Well we did follow Tango and Jimmy down there, but they didn’t even get to enchant. And there’s no way they would steal the enchanter.”

Scar shrugged. “You never know. Maybe one of them decided to be a bit rebellious.”

“Yeah, no way,” Joel scoffed. “Not the Tango and Jim I know.”

“Hey, Jimmy?” Tango called from across the house.

“Yeah?”

“I have an idea of something I think we should do.”

“Alright,” Jimmy responded, walking towards the source of Tango’s voice. “What is it?”

Tango was leaning against their table, holding his pickaxe. “I think we should move underground, at least for a little bit.”

“What?” He looked a bit confused, caught off-guard by Tango’s idea.

“Just for a little,” he repeated. “I hate to leave our beautiful Ranch, but I think this is safest right now. I found a cave that we could use.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows scrunched up. “I thought you didn’t like caves.”

“Well it’s not that I don’t like them, I just don’t like when they’re not safe,” Tango said. “Besides, this will be better in the long run. As much as I love the Ranch, it’s a bit flammable.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I mean, I guess if you think that’s best, then sure. You are sure though, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tango nodded.

“Alrighty, then.” Jimmy sighed. “It’s a shame we’re leaving the Ranch, though.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m gonna miss it.”

“Me too. But it’s just for a little while, we’ll be back,” Jimmy figured.

“Yes, we will,” Tango smiled. 

Jimmy let the blade of his scythe rest on the ground among the wheat he had harvested and lifted his hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. The midday sun was beating down hard on him, but it seemed less harsh than normal. 

He had been outside farming and tending to the animals for a few hours now, to Tango’s reluctance. According to him, it was a much better idea to stay inside and underground, but Jimmy would’ve been lying to his face if he’d said that he agreed. The darkness and the cold seemed so suffocating to him, he could barely stand being down there for long. He knew that he agreed to hide out more, but his lungs were aching just thinking about being underground. He hadn’t even coughed that much as he was outside, in the warmth of the sun’s rays. It was calm, and there was a light breeze. It was nice, which made him even more adverse to spending all his time in a cave. 

Tango seemed to be doing the opposite, though. The last time they had even seen each other was when he said they should stay underground more. Since then, he had been dutifully sticking to his own direction. Jimmy doubted that Tango had seen the sun since it rose. He had no idea how he could tolerate the cold for so long. 

Technically, Jimmy was only supposed to be “preparing” to stay in the cave Tango found, stocking up on bread and meat so they didn’t have to go outside as much. He knew that he promised Tango he would stay safe, but he could never bear to part with the sky above him. 

A voice jolted him out of his thoughts. “Hey, Jim.”

Jimmy looked up to see Joel and Etho crossing through the gates into the Ranch, both holding swords. He instinctively stepped back, tightening his grip around the scythe. “What do you want?” Something scratched at the back of his throat and he coughed to try and stop it. Shortly after, though, the feeling returned. 

“Woah, no need to be so aggressive,” Joel joked.

“We came to ask about the enchanter.” Etho said.

Jimmy hesitated. “Okay?”

“Where is it?”

He looked confused. “I don’t have it.”

“Well then who does?” Etho questioned.

“Isn’t it still in the Ancient City?”

“Nope. Someone stole it, and we’re trying to figure out who.”

“And you’re asking me?” Jimmy raised his eyebrows. “You really think I stole the enchanter?”

“You two are the only players with enchants,” Joel said, gesturing at his and Etho’s dull armor. “So, yeah.”

“Well, I don’t have it, so you’re gonna have to look elsewhere, mister.”

“What about Tango?” Etho interjected.

“Yeah, where is he, anyway?” Joel glanced around the Ranch. “You two are soulmates, shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, together?”

“He’s mining,” Jimmy shot back. “And he doesn’t have the enchanter, either.”

Joel just squinted at him.

“Oh, come on, do you really think either of us would steal it? That’s Scar’s job.”

The three of them stared at each other in suspenseful silence for a minute, before Joel finally spoke.

“I know when you’re lying, Jim, and you’re not.”

“See? I told you we don’t have it,” he smiled. “Now go away, I have some farming to do.” 

-

The next day, Jimmy still found himself outside, farming wheat in silence. The afternoon sun was once again showering him with its warmth, and he found himself giving up on keeping the sweat off his brow as he swung the scythe back and forth, cutting down swaths of wheat in an arc. The day was different, though. It seemed a little bit darker and a little bit colder than the previous two, like the sun was trapped behind an ever-growing cloud, regardless of the fact that the sky was completely clear.

A chill ran down Jimmy’s spine. He paused for a second, still comprehending what he had just felt. He was cold. Not in the sense of a passing breeze that was stronger than you’d expect, moreso like the constant throbbing of frostbite on your hands and feet. But he was never cold, or at least Tango wasn’t. Usually, Tango had more than enough heat to keep both of them warm, but recently that hadn’t been happening. It almost felt as though he hadn’t felt warm in a while. 

Jimmy was standing in front of a row of chests, stowing all of the wheat he had harvested when he heard footsteps coming up from underground. Tango joined him at the chests, putting away various stones and ores. Neither acknowledged the other for a second, until Jimmy paused. 

“Hey, Tango?” He asked. “Are you... cold?”

Tango raised an eyebrow and repeated his question. “Am I cold?” 

“I mean like when you’re mining.” Jimmy added. 

“I mean, sometimes. Why?”

“Well, when I was farming earlier today,” he ignored Tango’s slight frown. “I felt this.. I don’t know, shiver, through our soulbond. And I know you don’t really get cold or anything, but I was just wondering if something was going on.”

“What? No, I’m fine, it just-” There was a split second of hesitation. “-gets a bit cold down there sometimes.”

Jimmy nodded, even though he didn’t understand. “I see. So everything’s alright, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tango said.

“That’s.. good.”

Tango nodded, then disappeared back down the tunnel into the mines. 

Jimmy sat on their bed, still awake, lit only by the glow of a lantern. The moon was out, shining a subtle glow through the windows. As much as it was beautiful, though, Jimmy’s mind was in other places. 

Tango never took this long to come back. Usually he would be back in the house by now, preferring to avoid any mob that spawned rather than fight them.

Then a blood red message flashed across his vision, disrupting his train of thought.

Smallishbeans died because of Enderman

Followed by:

Etho died

They died again. Jimmy nearly gasped at it, even before he realized. They were reds now, the first pair in the game, meaning they could kill whoever they wanted, and that was not good for the two of them.

Jimmy tried to see if he could feel any reaction to the death through the soulbond, but came up with nothing, surprising him a bit. He expected Tango to be a bit more panicked about it—or at least excited. Instead, their soulbond felt empty, with almost another tinge of that same cold. 

Jimmy frowned, and he blinked. His eyelids were getting heavier as the moon made its way into the sky. There were dozens of questions in his mind, none of which he could answer.

He blinked again, then closed his eyes. 

-

Jimmy groaned as he slowly woke and stretched out of the awkward position he fell asleep in. His muscles were aching, as if punishing him for his lack of caring, and the air was scratching at his lungs, making him cough a couple times. He looked around, but saw no sign that Tango had even been out of mines since he last saw him. He sighed, then laid back down and tried to make himself comfortable. 

Something had to be going on, he thought. He started to search back through his memories, trying to identify anything that could’ve caused this. He remembered when they had first met, and the creeper explosion that caused it, and then the pair of them going into the Ancient City, and- 

The shriek. It was dark when it happened, but he remembered feeling those particles in the air and in his throat, like dust kicked up from the explosion. It was probably the reason for his own cough, he realized. But whatever Tango had was worse somehow. He didn’t know why, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t figure it out. He was digging through his mind, seeking out every speck of information on the substance he could remember. 

It was called sculk, and it was like a fungus, and it spread when things died around it. It thrived in places like the Ancient City—dark, cold, and far underground. There were shriekers, and sensors, and Wardens, all made of the stuff. And it could hear you. It was dangerous, and not good to be around. 

Then something else popped into his mind. A while ago, outside of the games, someone he knew got… infected. Cub. Jimmy didn’t know exactly what happened, but he knew that, while he was infected, Cub was different, changed, like he was possessed. He was distant, and obsessive, and almost manipulative. 

Then Jimmy started to get worried. He was pretty sure Tango had been infected, too. He could still feel the ever-present chill in their soulbond and the absence of his soulmate in the rest of his heart. As soon as he had thought of the idea, it was like a fuse had been lit in his brain, making it blow up into a million questions. 

If that’s what happened to Tango, how would he fix it? What would he do? Could he ask anyone about it? Who could he ask? Who would know? Who would help him? 

His mind was frantically searching through every possibility, and crossing each name off the list a second after he thought of them. Then he hesitated, caught on a name bright in his mind among hesitance, fear, and desperation: Scar. 

Scar was Cub’s old business partner, and he was there when Cub was infected. Out of all of the players, he would be the best one to ask by far. Still, though, there was no way he would actually help him. He would want something in return, that something being the enchanter, which he didn’t have, and there wasn’t much else he could offer. So, practically all options were off the table. Unless… 

“Scar?” Jimmy called. 

“Yes?”

“I have to ask you about something.”

“I see.” Scar set something in a chest and closed it, then turned to Jimmy. “Well, I’m happy to answer any question you have to the best of my abilities, but I’m afraid I’ll need something in exchange.”

“Yeah. See, I know you want the enchanter, but I don’t have it. I swear. I…” Jimmy hesitated, and his eyes darted to the side for a second. “I do know where it is. And I’ll tell you, if you can help me.”

Scar smiled. “Fantastic, I am very glad to hear that. Now, good sir, what can I help you with?”

“You know Cub, right? And you were there when he got infected with that stuff a while ago? Out of the games,” Jimmy asked. 

“Ah.” Scar paused. “Yes, why do you ask?”

“I-“ He started, then cut himself off. “That’s not important. What can you- What happened?”

“Enchanter first.”

Jimmy frowned, then exhaled. He grabbed a piece of paper, jotted a series of random numbers down on it and handed it to Scar. “There’s the first coordinate, I’ll give you the other after.”

Scar tucked the paper in his pocket, then thought for a second before starting to speak. “Honestly, I don’t really know,” Scar shrugged. “I think he went to help Shubble with something at her swamp and got infected there. The infection itself only lasted a few days, but a lot happened. He went around spreading sculk everywhere, and got, like, possessed and stuff. Eventually, Shelby and a few others were able to get rid of it, though.”

“How did they cure him?” Jimmy spat out the question like it was freezing on his tongue. 

“Potions, I think?”

Jimmy’s heart sank into his stomach. Potions, of course. The one thing he couldn’t make. “Are you sure?” He pressed. 

“Yes, I am. Now, if that’s all you wanted, I believe I’m missing a coordinate,” he reminded.

Jimmy huffed impatiently and looked for another piece of paper to write on. When he couldn’t find one, let out a short groan and held out his hand. “Give me it back.”

Scar hesitated for a moment before complying. Jimmy snatched the paper out of Scar’s hand, scribbled the other coordinate next to the first, then shoved it back at him. He opened his mouth to give a quick ‘thank you,’ but was cut off by another voice. 

“Hey there, Jim.”

Joel and Etho were walking out from under the cover of the forest towards them, their eyes shining blood red. 

“Ah, gentlemen, nice to see you again,” Scar smiled. 

Immediately after, Jimmy spun on his heel, his boots digging into the soft ground as he sprinted away, bushing through branches and leaves. He could hear the pair give chase, their footsteps pounding. The creak of a bowstring cut through the monotony, followed by the thwack of an arrow burying itself in the trunk of a tree next to him. Two more arrows followed it, each getting closer and closer to him, but never quite hitting their target. Then the forest gave way to the desert, open and plain. He kept running, pushing himself through the sand as arrows whizzed past him on either side. 

“C’mon, Jim, die already!” Joel yelled. 

Etho stopped and drew his bow back once more, carefully took aim, then let the arrow fly. This time, it sailed through the air in a perfect arc and landed in the meat of Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy gasped as he felt piercing metal dig deep into his muscle, the arrowhead planting itself right next to his bone. He stumbled but kept running, slowly making his way across the field of sand. He could feel Etho’s eyes following him as he ran, watching him before lining up a second shot, but another never came. Their footsteps faded from view as he finally left the desert, clinging onto the life that remained. 

Jimmy pushed through the front door into the Ranch, breathing quickly. There was blood soaking his shirt now, draining out of the puncture wound left by the arrow, which was still stuck in his shoulder. He could feel his heart shaking and his shoulder throbbing as he pulled the arrow out. After he got it unstuck, he set it on the table next to him and began to clean the wound. As he did, he searched through the deeper parts in his heart, looking for anything through the soulbond, but found nothing. No panic, no worry, not even pain. There was no evidence of Tango even noticing he had been shot.

For a split second, Jimmy wondered if something had broken, if the game had glitched or something. Because what else would it be? There’s no way Tango wouldn’t at least be able to feel the arrow. He had lost nearly 5 hearts after all, and that was hard to ignore. Still, though, there was nothing. 

Jimmy tied the ends of the bandage around his shoulder, then stood. He walked over towards the bank of chests on the wall, but paused at the entrance to the mine. What was he doing down there? There was no way he was still actually mining. If he was, he would’ve gone through dozens of pickaxes at this point, and for what? It’s not like they needed that much. Gods, it seemed like forever since he had last seen him. He could barely feel him, either. Another couple of coughs escaped his lungs. 

He was staring down the tunnel into Tango’s mineshaft, blood now soaking through his bandages, nothing but confusion in his eyes and a lump in his throat. 

Jimmy was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, almost completely unmoving. He was seated right next to the entrance to the strip mine, just sitting there, thinking. Originally, it had been a decision of whether he should be worried, but now it was more along the lines of whether he should go look for Tango or just leave him alone. He was worried, there was no debate about that, but deciding what he would do about it was what troubled him. 

He was thinking about what Scar had said, too. They used potions to cure him, which was impossible here. So that wasn’t it. Whatever Tango had was different, he told himself. Something else. Maybe he didn’t even have anything at all, who knows? Besides, Scar said that Cub got sick from Shubble’s swamp, which Tango definitely didn’t go into. So that wasn’t it. Maybe it was just the games. They changed people, he knew that. After all, it’s kind of hard to kill your friends in cold blood for sport one day, then go back to being buddies the next. To avoid that, most players acted differently in the games, like they were playing a character instead of being themselves. For all he knew, that was all that was going on. Everyone was fine, including Tango, and so was he. 

Something hard struck the wood of their front door–the pommel of a sword. The sound it made was sharp and deliberate, with an air of impatience to it. It was a knock, but not a question: a demand. 

Jimmy pushed himself off the floor, grabbed his sword from his belt and walked over to the door. One hand clenched the grip of his sword and the other reached out for the doorknob, the rest of his muscles tense. 

He opened the door. Standing behind it, as he expected, was Scar, Etho and Joel on either side of him. 

“Hi,” Jimmy started. 

“Hi Jimmy,” Etho replied, his face blank. 

“I assume you know why we’re here,” Scar said, holding the piece of paper Jimmy gave him between his fingertips. 

“Okay, yeah, look, I don’t know where it is. I just needed some info, that’s all. And it didn’t even affect you!” Jimmy defended. 

“Well, you did lie to me. And after I placed my trust in you, Jimmy,” Scar tutted. “I can’t believe it.” He closed his fist around the paper, crushing it into a tight ball before dropping it. 

“Hey-!” Jimmy took a step back and scowled at Scar. “Okay, I might’ve lied to you then, but I’m not lying when I say that I don’t have it. Neither of us do.”

“Then I guess it’s magically disappeared, huh, Jimmy?” Joel interjected. “You’re the only people that could have it.”

“No-“

“Speaking of, where is your soulmate?”

“He’s mining.” Jimmy said sharply. 

“Still?” Etho laughed. 

Joel smiled. “Trouble in paradise, huh, Jim?” 

“No, hey-“ Jimmy stopped himself, then sighed. “Look, how do you know someone else doesn’t have it?”

“You’re the only players with enchanted gear.” Scar shrugged, tapping his knuckle against Jimmy’s chestplate. “It’s simple, Jimmy.”

“Yeah, look at you, all shiny,” Etho added. 

“Well they could be framing us!”

Scar raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think that, Jimmy?” His voice was full of venom, so much so that it almost surprised him. 

“Yeah, well,” He trailed off. 

“Just tell us where it is and we’ll leave you alone,” Etho offered.

Joel grinned unsympathetically. “Yeah, and we won’t even kill you.”

“Great, thanks.” Jimmy replied dryly. In his head, though, sirens were blaring loud and clear. 

Gods, where was Tango? He needed someone to back him up on this, there was no way he could just get them to leave by himself. If Tango were there, maybe he could convince them that they didn’t have the enchanter, because they didn’t! The situation was infuriating, but that didn’t stop him from being terrified. 

“Hey guys, how about we settle this later, alright?” He started to pull the door closed when Scar stepped forward and braced his arm against the door, keeping it open. 

“Well, actually, my friend, I think I’m gonna need something in exchange for my troubles. How about that shiny armor of yours?” Keeping one hand on the door, he held out his other expectantly. 

Jimmy shook his head and stepped back. “Uh, yeah, no, you can go get your own armor.”

Scar paused, silent. Jimmy could tell that the gears in his mind were turning, but he couldn’t tell why. 

“Okay, fine.” He stepped back and took his hand off the door, which Jimmy immediately slammed in his face. 

His heart was racing, pounding against his chest as he retreated back, farther into his home. They left. Never in a million years did he think they would actually leave. But they did, and it was going to be okay. He felt as though the sun was actually warm again, beaming in through the windows and freeing him from that cold in his heart. It was finally warmer, he could feel it. Everything was back to normal, and it would be okay.

Then the scent of smoke caught his nose. He heard laughing from outside. Jimmy froze. He looked out one of the windows. The light seemed… red. Then the first plank gave away. Flames were burning bright, licking along the edge of the wood, and smoke poured in through the hole as more and more of the wood gave away to the blaze. 

The Ranch was on fire. 

Jimmy was breathing quickly, inhaling what seemed like equal parts smoke and air as he rushed to the mineshaft entrance and screamed for Tango to come up, both for help and to make sure he was okay. He waited, but there was no response. He started to call out again but was overcome with a fit of coughs as pain wracked his lungs. The room was filled with dark gray smoke now, making it impossible to even see how bad the damage was getting. He choked out another cough, then inhaled more smoke, then coughed again. He shut his watering eyes tight and turned back to where the door had been, then stumbled towards it. He pushed himself through the doorway and onto the grass, into open air. He fell to his knees on the still dewy grass and forced himself to breathe, pumping oxygen into his lungs and pushing the smoke out. His mouth was dry like it was coated in sand and his throat was raw like he had swallowed those same particles.

As his lungs were still recovering, he turned back to the Ranch—or what remained. The fire had traveled fast, completely coating the entire structure and engulfing it in flame until there was nothing left to burn. Now, charred wooden boards were scattered across the ground among shattered glass and cracked fence posts, leaving the stone entrance to the tunnel that led deep down below almost completely unharmed. 

Jimmy just stared at that arch, unmoving as wisps of smoke continued to rise. His throat was dry, and his lungs were dry, but his cheeks were wet. He hacked out another quick cough then pushed himself off the ground, staggering for a couple steps before he caught his balance. He strode through the broken framework of their house and stormed down the stairs. His boots were catching on loose stone, but he continued unbothered. It got colder and colder as he descended into the earth, and the walls around him changed from stone to deepslate, driving the world into shadow. There were much less torches on the walls as he went further down, so much so that when he reached the bottom, he could barely see. He could tell Tango was there, though. 

“Tango!” His voice was cracked and hoarse, and it hurt, but he yelled a second time anyway. “Tango!”

He stepped out of the darkness, holding a pickaxe in one hand and a sword in the other. “Ye-“

Jimmy grabbed Tango’s arm and pulled, ignoring his protests, and dragged him up through the tunnel. His grip was unrelenting, forcing Tango to follow him. Finally, they made their way all the way out of the mines and into the sunlight.

It seemed to take him a second to notice the absence of their house. “Um.” Tango said. 

“Um? That’s it? Our house has been burned to the ground, and that’s all you have to say?” Jimmy’s voice cracked. 

“What else do you want me to say?”

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe be a little sad about it? C’mon, we made this house together, and now it’s burned to ash, and you’re not even sad? What’s happened to you?”

There was a shift in Tango’s tone. “What happened to me?”

“Yeah- back when we first met, the Tango I knew would’ve killed anyone who did this, and now, all you say is um.” He put an emphasis on the final word, distaste in his voice. 

Tango sneered. “Yeah, well, it’s not like you haven’t changed too.”

“Yeah? How have I changed, huh?”

“You don’t trust me.”

“I don’t-“ Jimmy gaped. “I don’t trust you? When have I ever not trusted you? This whole time, I’ve been willing to follow what you say, I’ve agreed, I’ve helped you- I forgave you, and you’re saying I don’t trust you?” He gestured wildly as he defended himself, red-hot anger flaring up in his heart. 

Tango stared at him, his face set. “Yeah. You have agreed, but you haven’t actually followed through. Every time I say we should do something, you go along with it at the start, then leave and ignore me.”

“I- yeah, okay, fine, maybe I do, but that’s not because I don’t trust you.”

“Are you sure about that?” He tilted his head to the side. “We’re supposed to be soulmates, Jimmy, and you act like I don’t exist.”

“No. I look out for you, I defend you, I’m trying to help you, and where were you when Scar burnt our house down?” Jimmy threw his arms out to his sides like he was reveling in the ruins around him. 

“I was mining,” Tango shot back. “Gathering resources for us, so we don’t die.”

He scoffed. “Oh yeah? And what do you have to show for it?”

Still holding eye contact with Jimmy, Tango reached out to a chest next to him, grabbed its latch and pulled. The chest tipped from its shelf and fell open, scattering its contents on the floor. A wave of diamonds and iron and gold swept over the tiles, surrounding the two of them in a puddle of riches. The sunlight from above reflected off the shining metals and gems, covering both of them in specks of light. 

Jimmy froze, staring down at the sparkling gemstones covering the floor. Tango stayed silent, too, in satisfaction. 

Then Jimmy looked up at him, into his dark eyes. “Fine. If you wanna keep mining, do it. Just don’t expect anything out of me.”

“Sounds fantastic.”

Jimmy barely spared him a second glance before spinning on his heel, sending a few of the gems skittering across the floor, and walking out through the remains of the doorway. 

Jimmy’s jaw was clenched as he swung his scythe through the new growth of his fields, accidentally clawing a gash in the dirt and uprooting some of the plants. He stopped himself from taking another swing and frowned at the exposed roots, then squatted down, sighing. He let his scythe rest on the ground next to him as he pushed the roots of the crop back into the ground and patted some dirt into place on top of it, then worked on filling in the rest of the divot. 

Around him, night was falling. The sun had dipped behind the treeline minutes ago, so there was no point to him still standing amongst the wheat, but that didn’t stop him. He might as well—what else would he do?

He closed his eyes and bowed his head like he was praying to the dirt, silent and thinking. The argument still rang in his mind, even as he tried to push it out. He couldn’t tell if he regretted anything, though. He could still barely feel their soulbond, which was now just a faint echo of what it had been at the start of the game. 

He didn’t regret anything. He was right to be mad. When nothing was left, when they were supposed to still have each other, Tango left. Well, they had both left. 

Jimmy stood, grabbing his scythe, and walked over to the oak tree towering over what would’ve been their front lawn. He leaned the tool against the trunk of the tree, then sat down beneath it, tipping his head back until it rested on the tree’s bark. The air still stunk of smoke, and it reeked on Jimmy’s clothes and in his hair. He did his best to ignore it. Jimmy folded his hands in his lap, intertwining his fingers together and holding on tight, then closed his eyes as the moon rose high into the sky. 

-

The shining white sun peeked through the trees once more, bringing about the fifth day of the games. The players were starting to get tired now, which pushed them further into desperation. The games were starting to weigh down on them as their lives were ripped away one by one.

Etho and Joel, of course, were red—the first to turn. Ren and BigB had died to an enderman first, then a creeper, both mistakes but they were on their final life nonetheless. Scott and Pearl were the other two reds, their demise brought about by their own disagreement. Grian and Scar, and Martyn and Cleo were both yellow, in addition to Tango and Jimmy. Most of them had died to mobs of some kind, bringing them into the danger zone between safety and freedom. Bdubs and Impulse were the only two who hadn’t lost any of their lives, the bright, healthy green still shining in their eyes. And unfortunately for them, the reds wanted nothing more for that life to be gone. 

Between the reds, there was talk of a hunt to knock Bdubs and Impulse down to their second life. It was supposed to be a secret, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if the pair of them knew already. That meant time for them to prepare, which meant a more entertaining fight, which was always welcomed. 

The battle cry of a chorus of horns rang through the arena, announcing that the hunt for the greens’ heads had begun. Jimmy winced sympathetically. He did not envy the position the two of them were in. It wasn’t his business, though, so he continued about his day, preparing for when he and Tango would be the target of their swords. 

He still couldn’t tell if he regretted what he’d said. If he was honest, it didn’t even matter to him anymore. If they couldn’t agree on anything, there’s no way they would make it in these games. He tried to see if their soulbond held any hints of what Tango was feeling, but there wasn’t much. Not like yesterday, when both of their hearts were teeming with anger. Now, there was much more… nothing. But nothingness was better than anger, right? He had been less cold throughout the morning too, he realized. And he was coughing less. Both good signs. It was like, as Tango calmed, Jimmy got better. He hoped that’s what was happening. 

So they were okay—or at least better—and that was good enough. 

The two of them met, once again, at the rows of chests against their wall. They were starting to run out of space to store things. 

As Jimmy was filling yet another chest with bundles of wheat, a string of yellow text appeared in his eyes. 

Bdubs fell from a high place

Followed by:

Impulse died

Jimmy took a pause as he acknowledged what he had just seen. “They got them,” he muttered. He closed the chest and turned his head towards Tango. “You know they’re gonna go for the yellows next, right? And Etho and Joel already don’t like us. They and Scar think we have the enchanter for some reason, and they think I’m lying to them, so-“

“Oh, yeah, the enchanter? About that…” Tango’s sentence trailed off as he stopped what he was doing and reached into one of his pockets, then pulled the book out for Jimmy to see. 

“You- what?” He shouted in disbelief, snatching the book out of Tango’s hands to inspect it. He ran his fingertips over the gilded detailing, tracing the engraved lines and text. He ripped it open, then flipped through the blank pages, his mouth still hanging open in shock. “It’s real. You really-” He looked back up at Tango, a glower on his face. “You actually stole it, and you never thought to tell me?” He paused for a second, as if waiting for him to say something, but continued before he could. 

“Y’know, to know that everyone was actually right to harass me all the time would’ve been great to know,” He seethed, then snapped the book shut and thrust it back at Tango. Before he was able to grab it, though, Jimmy let go and it fell to the floor with a smack. Jimmy took a second’s glance at it before scoffing and walking in the other direction. Tango stared at him for a second, then at the book before bending down and picking it up. He tucked it back into his pocket, then returned his gaze to Jimmy, expressionless. 

“Right, we’re gonna need to deal with them at some point,” Jimmy huffed.

“Don’t worry about that. I have the perfect idea.” Tango promised. The shadow of a smile spread across his face. 

A shiver ran through Jimmy’s bones. He was perched up high on a ledge, watching all that happened below. 

Tango was sneaking through the ruins of the City much faster than Jimmy could have ever bared to imagine. He could barely spot him moving so quickly in the dark, like a predator on the hunt. It was like he belonged there. 

He was working his way towards the City’s center, occasionally pausing to set something on the ground behind him, sometimes even chipping into the stone tiles to hide it. 

When Jimmy first saw the shiny purple glint of his pickaxe swinging through the air, his heart seized up. He was going to die, there was no doubt about it. Then he watched the tip of Tango’s pickaxe crack the stone. An audible, heart-wrenching snap sounded throughout the city. Nothing happened. Tango placed a small red bundle in the hole, then placed a fragment of stone on top to conceal it. 

Jimmy let out a shaky exhale, equal parts confused and relieved. How? As much as he was afraid to admit it, Tango shouldn’t be alive right now. And yet, he continued through the city, completely unbothered. 

When he finally reached the center, Tango took a quick pause to look out on the City, his face solemn like he was the one who built it and was now regrettably putting it to waste. Then he pulled out his communicator. 

<TangoTek> scar, etho, joel, i think theres something you’re gonna want to see

He looked up at Jimmy and nodded. Jimmy nodded back, then turned around. 

Behind him was an incomplete altar, missing just one thing. He took the book out of his pocket, along with a chunk of lapis, and set both on the table. He pulled his scythe off his belt, flipping through the book’s pages and eventually landing on the incantation for Efficiency. He gave a little shrug to no one but himself, then whispered the enchantment and crushed the lapis over the blade, his hands shaking. 

SolidarityGaming has made the advancement [Enchanter]

<GoodTimeWithScar> I KNEW IT

<Smallishbeans> jim you dirty little liar

<Etho> hey jimmy where are you?

<SolidarityGaming> nowhere

<Smallishbeans> yeah uhuh

Now all they had to do was wait. 

Soon enough, Jimmy spotted a light at the base of the staircase, signaling that someone was here. He looked at Tango, who had noticed the same thing as him and was pulling out his sword. 

Even though Jimmy was safe high above the City, well out of blast range and almost completely hidden, he couldn’t stop a bit of fear from bubbling up in his heart. He trusted Tango, enough anyway, but this was still going to be a three-on-one if everything went to plan, and Tango had never prided himself on his fighting skills. He’d known that since the very first day. 

Maybe he had been practicing or something. A bit unusual for him, but he figured that Tango hadn’t been usual at all recently. Did he even know what ‘usual’ for him was? They had never really gotten to know each other since the games started, with him farming and Tango in the mines all day. Not like all the other soulmates, who relied on each other, and knew each other, and helped each other. Maybe Tango was right about staying underground more. He’d hate it, but he and Tango would be working together much more. He decided that, if they made it out of this, that’s what he would do. 

An explosion rang through the cavern. An explosion? Had they brought firework rockets or something? 

Another explosion. He paid more attention this time. A cloud of white smoke and dust covered one of the paths, but there was no sign of any firework stars in the air. So what was it? Had they- no, Tango did. That’s what he was doing. Planting TNT. 

Jimmy’s eyes widened. There was no way. He would never. He never wanted to do anything with TNT or explosions, and now here he was, laying dozens of TNT powered traps, in an Ancient City, no less? He was out of his mind. 

Tango cocked his head to the side, watching the events in front of him unfold. Explosions continued to rock the City from below, blowing craters into the paths that led to the center. He still simply stood inside the portal frame, sword in hand but completely at ease. Around him, the sculk was screaming, singing, calling forth a Warden to solve the problems the City faced. Shrieker after shrieker went off and waves of darkness pounded across the ruins, which made Tango do little more than change his stance. 

Joel and Etho and Scar were scared, Tango could tell. They were panicking, a completely reasonable reaction to the events taking place, but nonetheless entertaining. And he could use it to his advantage. 

Tango stepped off the platform in the center of the City, heading straight towards the unlucky three. He moved effortlessly through the cratered ruins, not at all acknowledging the darkness all around them. Waves of aqua light from the sculk rolled past him as he walked, almost like they were showing him the way towards his prize. A Warden was on the surface now, several actually. He didn’t know exactly where, but he could hear their screams echo through the City towards him. He continued, paying them no mind. 

A bolt of lightning struck the ground, shooting through the layers upon layers of stone between them and the surface, bright white light flaring across the area. 

Etho blew up

Smallishbeans died

They were out. Gone completely. Finally. One less problem he had to deal with. He continued, though, still on the hunt for his final target. 

He could hear Scar’s frantic breathing as he rushed back towards the exit as fast as he could, fumbling in the dark. He wasn’t moving fast, though, and he couldn’t tell Tango was behind him. Tango doubted that was one of Scars priorities at the moment. Oh well. 

The heartbeat booming strongly in Tango’s ears was like a war drum pushing him forwards and the chittering of the sculk was like the snare that accompanied it, together making a battlefield’s symphony. 

He was right behind him now. Tango raised his sword without even a second of pause, then brought it swinging down. 

GoodTimeWithScar was slain by TangoTek

Grian died

Jimmy breathed out a shaky sigh, partly of relief and partly of morbid amazement. He did it, and he managed to not die. Not like Jimmy didn’t have any faith in him. Just slightly unexpected, that’s all. 

Jimmy slowly climbed down from his little cutout high in the cave wall to meet Tango, who was making his way towards the exit. He kept his head on a swivel, constantly looking out for the Wardens that had spawned during the fight, but there didn’t seem to be any around. Weird. 

“Tango!” Jimmy whispered as enthusiastically as he could. “You did it!”

“Yeah,” Tango smiled, talking at a normal volume.

A speck of concern passed through Jimmy’s mind. “Hey, quiet down a bit, we’re still in the Deep Dark.”

Tango waved him off. “We’ll be fine. Can I have the book back?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jimmy nodded, speaking slightly louder. He retrieved the book and handed it back to Tango, who quickly stowed it away. 

“Hey, you know he’s gonna come after us again, right?” Jimmy asked.

“Who, Scar?”

He nodded. “And now that he’s red and knows we have the enchanter, there’s no way he’ll stop.”

Tango tilted his head to the side. “Not unless we kill him first.”

Jimmy scrunched his eyebrows in surprise. “Woah, hey, we might want to lay low for a bit first.” 

“Why? What’s the point? We know that he wants the enchanter and that he’s not gonna stop trying to get it, which will be a pain, so might as well get rid of the problem.”

“I mean, yeah, but don’t you want to relax a bit or something. Killing a guy two times in a row seems a bit hard,” he laughed awkwardly. 

“Does it, though?”

“Uh, yeah. C’mon man, we aren’t even red yet,” Jimmy reminded him. He was a bit concerned about Tango killing someone else as a yellow, but Tango didn’t seem to notice the issue at all. “Let’s get back up to the surface, it’s cold down here.”

A couple seconds passed before Tango responded. “Alright.”

Jimmy gave a small smile, then started up the staircase out of the City.

Now comfortably in the sunlight once again, Jimmy was free to simply watch as more and more deaths happened. 

After the double kill down in the City, the rest of the players had been understandably confused about what had taken place, but neither him nor Tango offered any explanations. Eventually, people stopped asking. Now, it was almost like they were avoiding him. Still, though, the games continued. 

Following what she said was a betrayal on Martyn’s part, Pearl decided that she was due her revenge. 

ZombieCleo was doomed to fall by PearlescentMoon

InTheLittleWood died

Just hours later, a second bolt of white-hot fire struck as Ren and BigB were ripped out of the games by Grian.

Rendog was skewered by a falling stalactite

Bigbst4tz2 died

And apparently Martyn also felt as though Pearl’s killing Cleo was somewhat of a betrayal. A third bolt of lightning crashed towards the ground.

PearlescentMoon blew up

Smajor1995 died

Too bad he got caught in the blast. Lightning strike number four. 

InTheLittleWood blew up

ZombieCleo died

There were just three pairs of soulmates left now: Jimmy and Tango, Impulse and Bdubs, and Grian and Scar. Grian and Scar were the only reds left in the game, and unfortunately for the yellows, they were out for blood. Unfortunately for Grian and Scar, Tango was, too. 

-

“Timmy!” A voice yelled. 

Jimmy wasn’t at all surprised to hear it. Both he and Tango knew that this would happen the moment Tango had said anything about his idea. Still, though, that didn’t mean he was entirely prepared. 

“Yes?” He called back.

He turned and Tango did the same, both now looking towards Grian and Scar. They stood in front of the others, their gleaming armor somehow giving them an air of power. 

“We know you know why we’re here, so let’s just make this quick, yeah?” Grian stepped forward. “Give us the enchanter.”

This was going exactly how the two of them thought it would. They had expected this, and had planned for it, so Jimmy knew what would happen next.

“No.” Tango said.

“What?” Jimmy’s eyes widened. That wasn’t a part of the plan. What was he doing?

Scar took a quick step forward, too fast for either of them to react, and brought his sword up to Jimmy’s throat. “What about now?”

Jimmy’s muscles tensed up, his mind filling with fear. “Tango, what are you doing? Just give it to them!”

“Why should I?” He shot back. 

“Because this is what we agreed on!”

“Since when do you follow agreements? Why should I have to?”

“Because my life, and therefore your life, is at stake here,” Jimmy gestured at Scar, who was sharing a quizzical look with Grian. 

Tango barely acknowledged Jimmy’s words before looking back at Grian. “I’m not giving it to you.”

“Tango, just do it! Please!” The edge of the blade was cutting into his throat now, drawing blood. 

“No.”

“Fine,” Grian said, and Scar swung his sword clean through Jimmy’s neck. Almost ten seconds later, Tango dropped to the ground beside him. 

Jimmy gasped. His heart was racing in his chest, and his neck was aching sharply. He was in the center of where their house used to be, sitting on the ground.

“Tango-” he started, then looked to the side of him. Tango wasn’t there. “Tango? Where-”

Tango shot awake next to him, breathing quickly. He was clutching his chest like he was scared, or missing something. He turned and saw Jimmy next to him, a weird expression on his face.

“What happened?” Tango asked.

“What do you mean ‘what happened,’ you got me killed! Again.” He added, spite in his voice.

“Wait, I what?” Dread filled Tango’s eyes.

Jimmy scoffed in disbelief. “I can’t believe you. After all of that crap that happened earlier, and you literally not caring whether I died or not, and you’re trying to act like it never happened? What’s wrong with you?”

“No, wait, what?” Tango was fumbling through his words, overwhelmed by Jimmy’s reaction. 

“I cannot believe I ever trusted you.” Jimmy sneered. “Something’s always been going on, hasn’t it? What is it?” 

“I- I don’t know. I’m sorry,” Tango tried. He was confused and he was hurting but he tried.

Jimmy paused, looking at him. “No you aren’t. I’ve learned that well enough already.”

He pushed himself up and walked through the still standing doorway into their garden. A message popped up, written in red.

BdoubleO100 was killed by Grian

ImpulseSV died 

Jimmy didn’t even flinch at the words, but Tango made an audible gasp as he followed Jimmy.

“Bdubs died! And they’re red, too? Already?”

“What do you mean ‘already’? The game’s nearly over,” Jimmy responded, annoyance in his voice. “It’s just us, Bdubs and Impulse, and Grian and Scar left.”

“What? What do you mean it’s only the six of us? Did something happen?” Tango sounded genuinely concerned, and that only made Jimmy more irritated.

Jimmy spun on his heel to face Tango. “Right, cut it out with this not remembering crap, will you? It’s getting annoying.”

“Wha- oh, I, uh, I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I just-“

“What is going on with you?” Jimmy pressed. “Did you hit your head or something?” He let out a dry laugh. 

“I don’t… know.”

Jimmy scoffed. 

“Did something happen?” He asked.

“You tell me,” he replied in mock confusion.

Another message, this time gray. 

ImpulseSV tried to swim in lava

BdoubleO100 died

“And there goes those two,” Jimmy commented absentmindedly.

Tango blinked at the words in shock, gaping at Jimmy. “How are you being so casual about this? They just died- like died died, and you don’t even care!”

“You get used to it.”

“No, you don’t,” Tango argued. “It’s only been a day and you’re saying that us, Grian and Scar are the only people left alive?”

“Are you joking?” The fire in Jimmy’s eyes and the anger in his voice shocked Tango into silence. “You must be joking. Because we both know you aren’t telling the truth.”

“I am,” Tango protested. 

“And you think I’m gonna believe you? Now? After you betrayed my trust I don’t even know how many times?”

“Look, I’m sorry for whatever I did, but I really don’t know what’s going on.”

Jimmy just rolled his eyes pointedly, his nostrils slightly flared. “Very funny.”

“Jimmy, humor me. Tell me what I did, or at least what happened to everyone.”

“They died,” He deadpanned. “What else could it have been?”

“Okay, yeah, I guess, that would make sense, but how?”

Jimmy let out a sharp exhale. “Look, if you’re gonna be a pain, at least be helpful for once.”

“I-“ he started, then stopped. “For once?”

“Yeah. Make us some new armor or something. Use some of those diamonds. I’m sure there’s plenty, seeing as you never touched them after you put them away.”

“Some of those…?” His eyebrows furrowed as he walked over to the chests and opened one. Piles of sparkling ores and gems filled the chest to the brim so much so that it was almost overflowing. “Wha…” Tango stuck his arm into the chest, digging through the pile of minerals. “I found all these?” He seemed amazed at himself. 

“Yeah, and it was all for nothing since but we died anyway. They have the enchanter now, too. And our armor, and our tools, because you just couldn’t bear to give up your precious book.” He turned to Tango. “It was all a waste. All of your paranoia, all of your mining, even the enchanter was pretty much useless, you know that right?”

“Wh- I, uh…” Tango stammered, caught completely off guard by his soulmate’s bluntness. He could feel a lump forming inside his throat, clawing at his flesh. “I-” Something was welling up in his eyes, and before he could notice, a drop of it rolled down his cheek and fell onto his arm. It was dark turquoise, almost black, and it seemed to dry out instantly, leaving behind small black particles. He stared down at it, confused. Then memories came rushing back to him. Not all of them, but just enough. 

“No.” He said, but he wasn’t talking to Jimmy. “No, no, no no no-“

“What?” He snapped. “What is that?” Jimmy strode back into the ruins of the Ranch, towards Tango.

Tango held his hands up defensively, gesturing for Jimmy to stay away. “Hold on, just wait a second, okay?”

“And why should I?” He stepped forward again. “Tango, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what caused it, but I am so sorry.” There was something in his eyes that Jimmy had seen before, the very first time they’d met. That same expectant, apprehensive guilt as the first time he had gotten the two of them killed. He was breathing quickly, too, his hands still held out as if he was trying to protect Jimmy from himself.

Jimmy stepped back. 

An arrow stuck into the ground between them. Jimmy’s head shot to where it had come from, his eyes scanning the trees for signs of the only other two players left alive: Grian and Scar. Reflexively, he pulled up his arm to take cover behind a shield, only to realize that he didn’t have one. No sword, ethier. He rushed over to a chest and fished out one of his old, chipped swords from the beginning, as well as an equally beat up shield. He raised the shield just in time for another arrow to pierce the wood, the tip of the arrowhead making its way completely through before getting stuck. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tango rifling through chests too, presumably looking for more old weaponry that he could grab. 

Scar and Grian moved in closer, out of the cover of the forest towards their targets. Their armor was shining purple, the same sets Tango and Jimmy had been wearing earlier that same day. Jimmy scowled at the sight, holding his sword up higher. Behind him, Tango was also holding a sword and shield, both rather damaged. His hands were shaking, though, and those spore-laden tear tracks still coated his cheeks. 

A flash of violet swung through Jimmy’s vision as Grian closed in on him. The sound of iron clashing rang through their ears as swipes and cuts were exchanged between the pair. 

Next to him, Tango was backing up, out of their house as Scar pursued. A crossbow appeared in Scar’s hand just a split second before it fired, shooting a rocket straight at Tango. He froze when he saw it but managed to duck out of the way just in time. It hit a tree behind him, exploding on impact and showering him with burning yellow sparkles. 

Tango’s muscles seized up. The boom from the rocket still echoed in his ears. He was breathing hard again, and his sword was loose in his grip. 

Grian’s eyes locked onto Tango and a hungry smile passed across his face. He dove towards Tango, eager to take him out of the game for good. Jimmy followed Grian, launching himself through the air and just managing to block Grian’s strike before it hit Tango. He hit the ground hard, open and vulnerable, almost ready for a final blow to finish him off. 

Tango’s eyes shot to Grian as he pushed himself forward and thrust his sword forward into Grian’s chest. Lightning seared through the air right in front of him, burning a mark in the grass. 

Grian was slain by TangoTek

GoodTimeWithScar died

Jimmy still lay on the ground, breathless. A smile was creeping across his face as he stood, slowly but surely. Tango had stumbled over to the tree that remained on their property and was leaning against it before he sunk down to the ground. His hand was on his stomach, clutching it. It took Jimmy a few seconds to realize that something was wrong, though.

“We actually did it,” he laughed, the quarrels of their past forgotten. “We- Tango?”

Jimmy moved closer to the other, kneeling down in front of him. He dropped his sword next to him and leaned forward to inspect the wound. 

Tango’s blood was flowing out onto his hands, which were wrapped around a small dagger embedded in his stomach. 

“No,” he whispered, staring at the blood coated blade. Then he looked back at his soulmate. “Hey, we did it. We made it. We can die now, it’s okay,” he promised. 

Jimmy reached up to Tango’s shoulders, his hands resting there for a second. The sculk still covered his cheeks. Jimmy cupped Tango’s face in his hands, then brushed some of the particles off. 

Darkness flooded Tango’s eyes and a ripple of bright aqua pulsed through them, flowing out from the center like a bullseye. Jimmy flinched back, snatching up his sword and holding it at the ready, even though there was no intention behind it. He backed further away as the shadows seemed to leak into Tango’s blood, the red covering his stomach turning a deep, star-speckled turquoise. The substance seemed to eat away at his blood and flesh, transforming it into something new. 

Tango seemed frozen in place for a second, his muscles clenched like he was trying to restrain himself. Then, unblinking, unflinching, unmoving, Tango pulled the dagger from his stomach with a squelch. The blade dripped with sculk instead of the blood that should’ve coated it, forming a small puddle on the ground before he dropped it, uninterested. Tango stood, the sculk now completely coating his hands and stomach, creeping its way up his neck and down his arms. Behind him, the ground where he stood turned almost black as well, like he had coated it with ink, and the pulsing stars were climbing up through the bark of the tree he had been leaning on.

“Tango?” Jimmy called. He got no response, not even a blink or a mere twitch to signal that Tango had heard what he said. “Tango, buddy, are you alright?” He tried again. The tip of his sword was slowly falling from a defensive guard—Jimmy was letting it. 

Tango was simply standing in front of him. Around him, pure black night started to fill the air, blocking out the sun. 

Jimmy kept backing away, his face filled with concern. After a second’s thought, he tossed his sword and shield away, not wanting to seem like a threat. “Tango?” He repeated, a bit more forcefully this time. 

The darkness flashed into full opacity around the pair, enveloping them in a blank void. It held steady, unwilling to let him leave. Jimmy stumbled back, but the blackness was unrelenting. 

His mind froze. So much darkness. An inescapable void where he could do nothing but hide in vain as his flesh, and his mind, and the world around him were ripped away into nothingness. Endless seas of sparkling stars blinked at him like glowing eyes in a forever dark forest. They creeped up onto his arms and legs, dragging him down deeper and deeper. It had stolen his voice from his throat, but he wasn't going to use it anyway. The nothingness was all around him, in the distance yet so close, leaving him waiting in the darkness, in the decay, in cold and clammy suspense, in silent, petrifying fear. Alone. 

Tango locked eyes with him—or what used to be Tango, with what used to be his eyes. There was nothing there, the space where they were now barely existent. Jimmy’s mind was frozen, by his eyes or his lack thereof he couldn’t tell. 

“Tango.” He shouted once again, running out of ideas. His thoughts were racing through his brain but none of them helped, instead just proving to be a distraction. What could he do? How could he help him? 

In a last-ditch effort, he darted forward and brushed the fungus on Tango’s arm, hoping that it could change something like earlier, but to no avail. Tango swiped at him, a newly formed claw tearing through Jimmy’s arm. He let out a cry of pain, which only made the sculk light up aqua once more.

Jimmy jumped back clutching his arm, eager to avoid another hit that he knew he couldn’t take, and as he did so, his heel hit something on the ground. He looked to see what it was, quickly realizing that it was the handle to his scythe. He paused, his foot still touching the wood, then looked back at Tango.

There was nothing. Nothing there, nothing to suggest that he was even alive. Tango was gone, he told himself. There was no getting him back. Even through all of their disagreements, Tango would never hurt him, he was sure of it. He was gone for good. 

Tango charged forward with a deep, guttural snarl. Jimmy pulled his scythe into the air with the toe of his boot, then grabbed it and swung. Shining violet glinted through the air is the iron of the scythe shot through the air with an almost unnatural efficiency. The blade cut clean through Tango’s neck. One final lightning strike.

TangoTek was slain by SolidarityGaming