#and locks it for good measure ofc

[unnamed-proxy]

There are two different bodies I imagine Painter with. I call them expectation and reality

Expectation is a silly boy (/gn), it gets to dress up and has a bunch of arms for painting as well as a belt that Seb gave him. Typical robot body with an artist apron and beret, as well as a really stupid shirt underneath. It’s free, it’s goofy, he may express and draw and heal from overclocking itself like we all want him to. Slice of life, he comes and goes as it pleases, filled to the brim with whimsy

Reality is a humongous, incomprehensible, fuckoff tangle of wires and screens that crawls along the ceiling and has an infinite supply of flash-beacons (and a gun of course how could I not) that it uses whenever it feels like screwing you over that run (often). He’s like Ennard fnaf if Ennard didn’t even try looking human. This is also the one I actually want to draw.

[i-cant-sing]

Okay but I need yall to help me figure out the character(s) for the following scenario:

Imagine a romantic yandere falling for reader, and ofc reader isn't in love with yandere for obvious reasons like red flags. Maybe they did try dating, Yandere is a charmer, comes from a rich family, he's smart and hardworking and oh so head over heels in love with you. He's always taking you out on best dates, HAS to get you the largest fucking bouquets (excellent taste in flowers) and buys you expensive but well thought out gifts.

But for whatever reason, things dont work out and you break things off hastily and most likely over the phone before leaving the country. And yandere just- breaksdown. I mean my man does not have a good mental health as is, but you leaving, actually leaving him just breaks him down and he has a full blown panic attack.

I'm talking about yandere falling to his knees, clutching his chest and gasping for air, tears streaming down his face as he screams your name like a mad man. His family, they love him, they adore their son/brother/grandchild sm, it pains them to see him in such a miserable state. Yandere man is so delirious that he has to be sedated, tranquillised by medical professionals because he's just losing his fucking mind, babbling your name over and over again like a mad man. His condition only worsens as time passes, and so his family decides to take drastic measures because they can't see their beloved son/brother/grandkid so fucking dead and depressed and a shell of a once bright man. They love him so much, they only want ti see him happy, so they use their money and influence to track you down and try to convince you to return and take yandere back. When you refuse, they take the high way and force you to come with them, dragging you kicking and screaming to their private jet and fly all the way home, where yandere is.

You're in a dishevelled state, tears running down your cheeks as you struggle to free yourself from their grasps as they take you to yandere. And when yandere sees you... for the first time in months, his family sees the light return in his eyes as the yandere reaches out for you, scared that you're just his mind playing tricks. When he finally touches you, he is immeadiately pulling you into a hug, arms tightening around your body like a gilded cage as he cries into your shoulder and thanks his family for bringing you back. His family only smiles with tears in their eyes as they lock the door behind them when they leave, so that you don't go running away. Meanwhile, yandere has pulled you into his lap and he's looking at you with such sad eyes, staring at each feature of yours over and over again as if to memorise it all again. He can't help the tears that continue to slip out of his eyes, maybe he's crying that you're finally here, or maybe he's crying for all the time that's been lost when you weren't here. You fall asleep soon due to exhaustion, but yandere doesn't sleep a wink that night because he continues to stare at you and play with your hair very gently, finally closing his eyes when morning comes and he wraps his arms around you and traps your legs with his.

By now, you guys realise that the yandere's family is not only yandere for their son/brother/grandson but also for you. They are yandede for you too, but they're not allowing you to leave them or their son or even make him unhappy ever again. Some members are willing to let all you "tantrums" slide, while others are not so kind. BUT one thing is for sure, you're ALWAYS safe with yandere s/o, no matter what.

Now, for the characters I've had in kind for this scenario are:

Halim Mehmet Shah and the Shah Family (my ocs)

Dabi/Shotou and Todoroki clan (I am the OG creator of Yandere Todoroki Clan)

I wanna say Naoya or Toji but the Zenin clan hates them both....

Dick Grayson/Jason Todd and Batfam

What do you guys think?

Mood board for this scenario^^^(I love Pinterest)

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part XI (act I)

Word count: 19,894 Warnings: Language, blood/injury, temporary suicide, imprisonment, experimentation, dehumanization, kissing, mentioned gore/eye horror, emotional abuse, fictional racism, discussion of starvation/vomiting, drowning Summary: Tango is forced to finally confront his past at Hels Tek, this time with Jimmy and friends behind him. But he soon finds that there are some battles he must fight alone, the outcome of which will change his life- and the universe- forever.

A/N: Well, here we are. The final chapter of ‘from eden.’ Now ofc, I still have lots more for the HTP au planned, but this is where the ranchers’ main plotline will conclude. Thanks for all the support along the way, it’s been an absolute pleasure to write. For the finale, I wanted to go big, so I did something I haven’t done in this fic before: I switch back and forth between different POVs, and different times via flashbacks. Hopefully it all makes sense.

Also, due to Tumblr’s paragraph limit, I had to split this into two acts again. Link to the second one at the bottom. Hope you enjoy please reblog/comment if you do! - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part XI (act I) - honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror years ago

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player kneels on the ground with his hands chained behind his back.

He’s instantly recognizable, of course. A blaze hybrid, with pointed black-tipped ears poking out from messy blond hair, dull blaze rods hovering around his temples. His red eyes are downcast, sharp teeth bared in a slight grimace. His face, from what’s visible, is discolored by bloodstains and fresh bruises. An iron collar is still locked around his throat, red light shining out like a solitary eye.

Atlas is gratified to see that they were unable to dismantle his handiwork. He had a feeling they wouldn’t; not if they actually cared about not causing Tango harm.

“Well, well, well.” Atlas grins as he approaches. “Hello, Mr. Tango.”

“That’s close enough.”

Bravo’s voice rings out across the valley. He’s standing beside Tango, sword at the ready. Despite being the one to have extended this invitation in the first place, he’s evidently not taking any chances.

Atlas stops, raising a hand for his convoy to do the same. Separated by a distance of ten or so blocks, he can see just how poorly Bravo seems to be doing; haggard and blood-stained, yet still rife with tension, his wary eyes ringed with dark circles. Clearly, the last couple weeks haven’t been kind to him.

(Of course, Atlas had a hand in that.)

He’s alone, as promised- though Atlas knew that already from the unseen scout he sent ahead ten minutes ago. The place Bravo’s arranged their meeting isn’t where his base lies, that much is certain. It’s a large nether waste biome, lifeless and smoldering, surrounded by steep blackstone cliffs on either side. Probably at least an hour from where Bravo’s been hiding, and where the portal must’ve spawned when Tango arrived.

(Of course Bravo wouldn’t lead Atlas to his front door. He’s too cautious for that. Especially if he’s still protecting that ragged black-winged avian that some of Alisker’s men have reported seeing with him. Atlas is mildly disappointed by his absence. But it’s just as well; he doubts those feathers were in good condition, anyways. Would’ve made for shoddy arrows.)

Bravo’s keen gaze sweeps over Atlas’s assembled company. The two dozen armed thugs would’ve been enough to make anyone hesitate, but the effect is much greater with their small fleet of flying machines hovering overhead. Each ship has a dedicated gunner; a player with a crossbow positioned at the front. Their supply of slowness arrows would efficiently incapacitate anyone attacking from the ground or sky. Just one of the extra security measures Atlas prepared for this trip, to say nothing of what he’s set up back home.

Another such measure was the addition of weighted nets to their arsenal, woven from thick chains and studded with wither rose thorns, to ensnare any mob hybrids or monster players they might encounter. It’s not often that Atlas sees a player so much bigger and stronger than the average, like the massive zombie or the wolf, but he won’t be caught off-guard again. That plus respawn anchors on the ships and chests stocked with potions has left him fairly confident in their chances, should this turn out to be an ambush.

Almost a shame that doesn’t seem to be the case. But as always, he’d rather have such defenses and not need them than need them and not have them.

“Mr. Bravo,” Atlas greets him politely. “I must admit, I was rather surprised that you reached out to me, considering we left on… shall we say, less than friendly terms.”

(A generous way of putting it, to be certain. Their last encounter ended with Bravo killing himself to escape to spawn after Atlas was forced to finally show his hand. He does regret that the circumstances had required him to go against Bravo’s wishes; it would’ve been preferable to keep him as an ally. But when he refused to let them take the avian back to Hels Tek, well, Atlas hadn’t been left with much of a choice. Nor had he when Bravo insisted he wouldn’t help them open another portal. Such is life.)

“Oh, shut up,” Bravo snaps. “I- I’m not in the mood for the fuckin’ small talk, alright? You want Tango, you’ve got him. Now take him and leave me the hell alone.”

“Ah, short-tempered as ever,” Atlas hums. “Very well. However, forgive my prying, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind regaling me with the details of how exactly you came by our friend, here?”

(He can infer certain things well enough from chat, of course. He assumes Tango and that other player, SolidarityGaming, came through the portal first and attempted to make contact with Bravo before the rest of the server showed up. It appears that Bravo killed them all in order to capture Tango, but Atlas would rather hear it from him firsthand.)

Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah so, he opened a portal from his end, and tried to… I dunno, reason with me? I guess? He gave me this whole sob story about how he didn’t mean to send me here, apologizing, all that nonsense, but I uh, I don’t buy it.” He scowls down at Tango. “I think he was just tryin’ to win me over, so I’d help him get the key to that collar thingie from you.”

Tango tenses at his words but says nothing, gaze still fixed on the ground before him.

“Anyway,” Bravo continues, looking up at Atlas again, “it wasn’t hard to beat his ass. And his avian buddy who came through after him, I beat his ass, too. They’re shit PVPers.”

Atlas nods sagely. 

(He’d noted a wide variation of skill level amongst the players of Tango’s world, but even the most skilled of them would likely have trouble taking on the average Hels player in one-on-one combat. A group ambush with a large pack of wolves is a rather different thing.)

“Got all the others in a lava trap after the fact,” Bravo says, “but uh, then the avian broke free and tried to stop me, so uh, you know, push came to shove and…”

Atlas gives him a knowing look. “You lost your temper again?”

“None of your damn business,” Bravo hisses, but he looks away as he says it.

“Mmm.” Atlas folds his arms behind his back. “You’re rather fortunate that the bond they shared didn’t transfer to this world, or you would’ve lost Tango as well.” He’d never seen or heard of players sharing health, but then again, he’d never been to worlds outside of Hels before. Whether or not the connection existed off-world was anyone’s guess.

Bravo rolls his eyes at that. “Yeah, thanks, I- I figured that out while I was fightin’ them. Give me a little credit, jeeze.”

“Of course.” Atlas inclines his head. “Well, I appreciate your assistance, Mr. Bravo. I suspect you’ll be taking your leave, then?”

“Yeah, I’m leavin’ through their portal,” Bravo says, lifting his chin. “But uh, once I’m gone, I’m gonna break it so- so you shouldn’t have to worry about anyone else from that world showin’ up again.”

(A small part of Atlas wonders if the overworld players might’ve done that themselves already. It’d be the smart thing to do, to prevent any unwanted visitors. But he’s also aware that overworld players seem far too sentimental for their own good. If they cared enough to come here after Tango, then they would be loath to eliminate their best chance at finding him again.

No, they would leave that portal open at any cost. Bravo ought to be prepared to fight them in order to break it. But no matter- if he is unsuccessful, and the overworlders come through again, Atlas will find out via chat long before they arrive at his doorstep. He has nothing to worry about in that regard. He would even welcome the addition of a few more hybrid-powered farms. After all, with Tango back, he can once again set his sights on plans for the Phase Two expansion.)

“Excellent,” Atlas says. “Then I suppose that concludes our business.”

“Sure does.” Bravo picks up a foot and plants it squarely against Tango’s back, sending him face-first into the ground. Tango grunts in pain, but remains where he is. “Now, you can have your guys come grab him, okay, but don’t- don’t try anything shifty, alright? I’m not in the mood for another fucking backstab.”

Atlas idly waves a hand, permitting the two guards at his side to move forward. “Oh, no need to concern yourself with that, Mr. Bravo,” he says. “Your usefulness to me has always started and ended with leading me to Tango.”

Bravo’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing as the guards drag Tango away. He simply watches, grip tight around his sword; he’ll likely wait until they’re out of sight before returning to his base, just to be safe.

(His continued caution, while generally wise to have in Hels, is unfounded. Atlas has no further need of him, and there’s no reason to waste any more time or energy going after him. Some of the pettier, more short-sighted residents of Hels would try to get a kill in, just out of spite. But Atlas is quite satisfied to have won in the end, and has no desire for payback. Not when Bravo could so easily become a problem again. No, best to let it end here.)

Tango, for his part, remains silent as well. It’s evident that he took quite a beating; he’s limp in their grasp, head hanging forward, making no movement as he’s brought before Atlas. It’s oddly reminiscent of the last time they were face-to-face back in the overworld. He’d been just as resigned then, and that was before they even put the collar on him.

“Not going to fight, Mr. Tango?” Atlas asks, mock surprise dripping from his voice.

Tango finally lifts his head, glaring weakly up at Atlas. “What’s the point?”

Atlas’s grin sharpens.

(And here lies the beauty of his trap. His real trap, not the one they set for Tango back in the overworld. The trap of the mind. Decades in the making, represented by the still-present cuffs on his wrists, the collar locked around his throat. A broken spirit is a far more effective prison than anything Atlas can build in a lab.)

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he hums, turning towards the ships. “Now, let’s get you home. Farewell, Mr. Bravo,” he adds over his shoulder.

Bravo doesn’t reply, but Atlas can feel his eyes burning into his skull the entire walk back.

~*~

Tango scans his comm with wide eyes, his heart starting to pound.

All the Double Lifers are here. In Hels. Once again, despite his best efforts, his friends have insisted on putting themselves in danger for his sake. He really shouldn’t be surprised. And sure, it’s touching, but it’s also scary as hell. While he might’ve warmed up to the idea of actually letting the people who care about him help solve his problems, that doesn’t mean he wants them traipsing around Hels on their own.

“What is this?” Bravo demands. His gaze darts around the cavern, as if the others are going to appear out of thin air around him. “What’s goin’ on?”

Jimmy inhales through his teeth. “The others must’ve seen that we left and came through the portal after us.”

Tango nods. “Yeah, I- I didn’t get a chance to break it, so-”

“Wait,” Bravo says, “you were gonna break the portal?”

Tango gives him an incredulous look. “Uh, yeah, of course I was gonna break the portal!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up. “I- I wanted to avoid this exact situation, them comin’ here after me, or- or any Hels players goin’ through to Double Life! Breakin’ the portal was the only way.”

Bravo’s eyes narrow. “Are you- that would’ve trapped us here, are you insane?” he hisses. “If you’re here, I can’t open a portal to you. I mean, I- Timmy could’ve done it, instead, but- but you didn’t know he was with me!” He takes a step forward, placing himself between them and Timmy. “Did you even think about that? What did- how were you plannin’ on getting us outta here, huh?”

The sudden suspicion in his voice takes Tango aback. It’s a borderline accusation, almost implying that he came here under false pretenses. As if he could hate Bravo enough to willingly strand himself in Hels forever, just to screw Bravo over.

It’s a very Hels kind of thought.

“Hey, back off!” Jimmy warns, his wings puffing up defensively.

Tango holds his hands up. “Woah, woah, take it easy! I knew the risks, yeah, but I- I figured between the two of us, we could reconstruct a portal and- and then find some random Hels player to use? We’d escape Hels to some random world, wherever their counterpart was, and at that point, our comms would be able to open portals again.” He clears his throat. “I uh, I wasn’t about to let you back into Double Life after everything, okay, but I- I wasn’t gonna let you stay here, either.”

“Oh.” Bravo looks away. The tension leaves him as quickly as it came. “Right, right, sorry.”

Tango exhales slowly. “It’s fine.”

He knows better than to take it as a personal insult; after all, he keenly recalls a time when he used to be paranoid like that, too. When he’d first joined Hermitcraft, he’d second-guessed everything, even though the Hermits had given him absolutely no reason to do so. It was just something ingrained in him from growing up in a world where everyone was out to get him.

Evidently, Bravo’s learned that lesson during his time in Hels, too.

“Uh, guys,” Jimmy interjects, “we should go get ‘em before they get hurt, or- or stray too far from the portal.”

“Right, right.” Tango glances at Bravo. “Uh, can you trigger that dropchute skadoodler from down here? To open the top?”

Bravo nods. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, hang on…” He turns and hits a well-camouflaged deepslate button on the wall. Pistons churn, and the wall opens up into his hidden entrance, a dimly-lit hallway stretching beyond it.

Tango’s abruptly reminded of how he used to hide his own Hels base. “Nice,” he says, before he can help himself. “The uh, secret button thing. Very smart.”

Bravo squints at him for a moment, as if debating whether the compliment was genuine. “Sure,” he finally settles on, before looking over his shoulder at Timmy. “Give a shout if you need anything.” Then he disappears around the corner.

“I’ll send Impulse a message,” Tango says, pulling up his chat. “Jimmy, can you fly up there and get ‘em? They can just drop down through the chute, we’ll put some water down or somethin’ in case they land where the cobwebs have been cleared.”

“Right, good call.” Jimmy presses a quick kiss to Tango’s forehead before turning away. “Back in a flash.”

Wings flaring, he takes off up the dropchute. Tango quickly drafts a whisper to Impulse- just a quick ‘stay put, jimmy otw’- before turning to the pit. He normally doesn’t care much for water, but he’d made sure to bring a bucket with him. Even though he’s not good at the whole MLG bucket clutch thing, he knew it could help in a pinch, and water-containing biomes in Hels are few and far between.

“Oh!” Timmy pipes up. “I have water, too!”

Tango looks over in surprise. “Oh, thanks. Yeah, here, just… fill in where the gaps are, okay?” 

Timmy nods, shuffling over to stand beside Tango as he pulls a water bucket from his inventory.

It really is strange. They have the exact same voice, only Timmy’s is slightly fainter. Like he’s afraid to speak at full volume. He’s also got this nervous, hesitant way of moving- as if Tango’s going to reprimand him for getting too close. Even though he’s not Jimmy, it pulls at Tango’s heartstrings to see someone so similar to the man he loves in such a desperate state.

It’s a stark reminder of what Tango already knows. Hels has plenty of violent, cruel players that like to throw their weight around, but there are plenty of victims, too.

“There.” Tango puts his empty bucket away, surveying their handiwork. “That should do it.”

Timmy eyes the dropchute apprehensively. “Are they... all comin’ down here? All at once?”

Tango softens. “Hey, it’s alright. These are good friends of mine, okay, you- they aren’t gonna cause trouble.” 

“Yeah.” Bravo pokes back out from the hallway, crossing over to them. “I wouldn’t let ‘em hurt you, anyways.”

Tango snorts. Distrust notwithstanding, the protectiveness is kind of cute to see. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bravo asks, immediately on-guard again.

“Nothing!” Tango insists, exasperated. “Gosh, would you- can you maybe chill out a bit? There’s no sneaky double-cross here, alright, I- I’m not like Atlas.”

Bravo blinks. “I know that,” he says uncertainly.

Tango wisely chooses not to point out his tone. “Okay, then.”

Timmy looks anxiously between them. “Are we… is everythin’ alright?” he asks, fidgeting with his hands. “There’s not gonna be anymore fightin’, is there?”

Bravo grimaces. “No, no, sorry. We’re good.” He glances sidelong at Tango. ���I uh, I think some of these other guys might have… mixed feelings, seein’ me again, but I’m not gonna start anything.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “Don’t worry, I- I’m sure Jimmy will give them the low-down. None of them would just attack on sight, anyways.”

Bravo tenses, like he’s taken it as another slight against him, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Right.”

Before an awkward silence can descend, Jimmy’s voice echoes down the dropchute.

“Incoming!”

Tango puts an arm out, prompting Bravo and Timmy to back up from the edge of the pit. Jimmy swoops out from the chute a second later, followed closely by Grian and Pearl, wings fanning out to glide. The rest of the Double Lifers plunge behind them, landing amongst the cobwebs and water streams in a cacophony of shouts.

From there, it’s a chaotic few minutes as they work to help everyone else out of the pit. Swords make quick work of the cobwebs, hastily-placed blocks serving as a makeshift stairwell. There are lots of overlapping questions and exclamations, of course, as Tango reunites with his friends- demands to know what he was thinking and why he decided to tackle Hels by himself, which he expected.

But there are lots of tight hugs, too. Their anger is short-lived, fueled only by the fear that they’d lost him for good. It’s a mix of emotions. He’s humbled and relieved, sheepish but reassured by his friends’ care for him. All the while, though, he’s keeping an eye on Bravo and Timmy out of the corner of his eye, part of his mind keenly aware that they’re working with limited time.

“Hey, so,” he says eventually, clapping his hands, “uh- I hate to cut the reunion short, guys, but we gotta get goin’ here.”

Jimmy slips into place beside him, draping a wing over his shoulders. “Right,” he says, lifting his voice to address the room. “Um, so you guys already know Bravo. And uh, this is Timmy, my- my doppelgänger I was tellin’ you about.”

Bravo merely offers a nod, Timmy shyly peeking out from behind him- which is almost impressive, considering their height difference. The chorus of greetings that resounds from the Lifers makes him shrink back even further, so the room quickly hushes again. Tango can tell that everyone is incredibly curious about Timmy, but they’re kindly holding back for his sake.

Jimmy gives a half-hearted smile. “He’s, uh- he’s a bit shy, you see.”

“So.” Impulse steps out from the group, walking right up to Bravo- who steps forward to meet him. “Jimmy uh, he told us that you and Tango came to an understanding,” he says, staring Bravo down, “that you’re gonna help us out.”

Bravo lifts his chin. “That’s right.”

“Well, I wanna hear it from you,” Impulse says evenly. His golden eyes are hard in a way that Tango rarely sees. “I wanna actually hear that uh… you’re sorry for everything you did.”

Tango puts a hand out. “Impulse, now’s really not the time-”

“No,” Bravo says, unexpectedly. “No, I- I suppose that’s fair.” He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flitting over the group. “I mean, I don’t blame you for not trustin’ me, it was your home that I helped invade.”

“And our friend you hurt!” Scar adds indignantly. He’s got an arrow notched in his bow, though he has yet to draw it.

Bravo winces. “Right. Well, I was wrong, okay? I was wrong to help Atlas attack you, and to say all that stuff about Tango, and blame him for this whole Hels situation.” He exhales heavily. “I’m sorry.”

Impulse studies Bravo for a moment, his forked tail lashing back and forth, before he eases back. “Alright, then.” He folds his arms, evidently satisfied, and turns to Tango. “So, what’s the plan?”

Tango lets out a breath, grateful for the change of topic. “Well, we know Atlas has the key to this stupid collar thing. But I mean, I’m not sure how we’re gonna get it from him.” 

Grian raises his brows, eyes wide behind his tinted shades. “Um, hang on a second… so- so you dipped through the portal on a mission to Hels, by yourself, in the middle of the night… and you didn’t even have a plan?”

Tango feels himself flush. “Hey, I- I was under a lotta stress, okay!” he defends. “I wasn’t thinkin’ that far ahead!”

Luckily Impulse cuts back in. “Do we know where Atlas is now?”

Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “Hels Tek is a few days away on foot, but they’ve got flying machines. They can make the trip in a fraction of the time. They’re probably already out there looking for Tango- or, at least, they’re gonna be real soon.”

Impulse rubs his chin. “Why don’t we just lure him here, then, and jump him?”

“Oh hey, yeah,” Jimmy chimes in, “we could have Bravo send him a message askin’ him to meet, like he’s sellin’ Tango out?”

Bravo frowns. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Jimmy asks, rounding on Bravo. “We made quick work of ‘em last time.”

Bravo holds his hands up. “Look uh, no offense,” he starts, immediately making everyone tense, “but you guys only won last time ‘cause Atlas didn’t expect much of a fight. He brought all those guys just for Tango. Didn’t help that they were some of the dumbest grunts I’ve ever seen. Plus, you uh, you had about a gazillion wolves to act as cannon fodder, so.”

Ren pins his ears back in obvious offense. “Uh, really?”

“Excuse me?” Pearl demands, crossing her arms. “I dunno ‘bout cannon fodder, now…”

“Yeah,” Joel jumps in, “uh, I’m pretty sure we destroyed those guys.”

“Yeah!” Bdubs echoes, puffing out his chest. “We- we ain’t scared’a no punks!”

Bravo scowls. “You guys are missing the point-”

“And you’re not helpin’!” Jimmy retorts. 

“No,” Tango says, “Bravo’s right.”

The sudden surprise that falls over the room is palpable. Even Bravo seems taken aback by Tango agreeing with him. But despite the combined attention from each pair of eyes in the room, Tango doesn’t shy away.

He normally hates being in any sort of leadership role. Taking charge over a large group of people? No thanks. It’s tempting to just go with what his friends want to do, to let them help the way they want. But the stakes here are too high to let self-consciousness interfere. While he trusts his friends, he also knows that he and Bravo are the only ones who actually know Atlas, and know what Hels Tek can really do.

It’s up to him to make sure they don’t go with a bad plan, just because it’s the easier route.

“Listen,” Tango says, spreading his hands, “Atlas knows you guys are here, okay, he would’ve seen you join in chat. He- he’s not gonna- even if we lure him here under the guise of handin’ me over, alright, he’s gonna be on guard and much better prepared than last time. That fight ain’t goin’ our way, trust me.”

Jimmy gives him a searching look. “Are you sure?” he asks softly, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Y’know, we- we aren’t afraid to fight.”

“I know,” Tango assures him. He reaches up to squeeze Jimmy’s hand, offering a faint smile. “And I appreciate it. But I- I’m not gonna just let you guys walk into certain death. We gotta be careful about this, okay? ‘Cause this,” he gestures at his collar, “is what Atlas came up with the last time he was able to plan ahead, and uh, that’s barely scratching the surface of what he’s capable of.”

Jimmy sobers at the reminder. Thankfully, the sentiment appears to sink in for the other Lifers as well, reflected in their expressions and dissipating tension.

Bravo gives Tango an acknowledging look- probably the closest thing he can muster to a ‘thank you.’ “Yeah, Atlas is a crafty bastard,” he says. “He’s- the only time he’s really vulnerable is when he thinks he’s got the upper hand. That’s when he slips up, when his hubris gets the better of him.”

Tango nods. “Atlas isn’t gonna relax ‘til I’m locked back in that farm.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, it hits him. Tango inhales sharply, and he can tell from the way Bravo’s eyes widen that they’ve both had the exact same thought.

“... oh.”

~*~

Relief floods through Bravo as the netherrack hill finally comes into view.

Before he and Tango left to meet Atlas, they’d decided to hide the portal in case anyone happened upon it. Neither of them had much skill in the way of terraforming, but they’d managed to scrape together a crude mound of netherrack that could pass as naturally-generated terrain, sloped to meet the surrounding landscape. He’d even lit a few pieces on fire with flint and steel as a final touch to help it blend in. It was probably overkill, considering he’d chosen to hide in this area for its seclusion in the first place, but better safe than sorry.

His feet are starting to ache from all the walking he’s done today, but he breaks into a jog as he closes the final distance. “You there, Timmy?” he calls, as loudly as he dares.

A block of netherrack pops out from the side of the hill, Timmy’s pale face appearing in the gap. “Bravo! You’re back!” Despite the faintness of his voice, he sounds overjoyed to see Bravo- like he always does, every time Bravo is apart from him. 

Like he’s never certain if Bravo will come back.

“Hey.” Switching to his pickaxe, Bravo mines another block away to make an entrance. “You uh, you didn’t see anyone snoopin’ around here, right?”

Timmy backs up to let him inside. “No, all quiet.”

“Good.” Bravo quickly puts the blocks back into place behind him. Stashing his pickaxe in his inventory, he leans against the wall, blinking as he adjusts to the green-yellow-red light from the portal.

“Did it- did it go okay?” Timmy asks, wringing his hands together. Colored light swirls in the hollows of his cheeks.

Bravo nods. “Yeah, he bought it. They’re on their way back to Hels Tek now, should be there in a couple more hours.” He checks his clock and sets a timer on his comm; the day-night cycle is world-dependent, so they need to make sure they come back at the right time.

“Oh, that’s good.” Timmy’s wings ruffle behind him; even after Bravo trimmed the lower feathers, they still drag on the ground. “So… it’s all goin’ to plan so far?”

“Yep. Don’t worry.“ Bravo puts his comm away and pushes off from the wall, clearing his throat. “So uh, are- are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah.” Timmy lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I… I think so. It’s… hard to believe it’s finally happenin’, you know?”

A bittersweet smile tugs at Bravo’s mouth. He’ll be returning to Hels within the day, but at least Timmy can get out. “Yeah, I know.”

“You promised me we would,” Timmy murmurs, his eyes soft. “Remember? You promised me we’d leave Hels, and now… now we are. I’d never- if it weren’t for you, I never would’a had the courage to leave, I- I’d still be at spawn.”

Bravo glances away, shrugging. “Maybe.”

“No, I know I would be.” Timmy dares to take a step forward. Even with his shoulders hunched and wings curled around him, he towers over Bravo in the cramped space. “Thank you.”

Bravo looks up at him, his throat tightening. “I don’t… you know I- I didn’t help you for the right reason,” he makes himself say. “Right?”

Timmy makes a noncommittal noise. “Maybe. Does it… does it really matter, now?”

Bravo’s eyes trace the sharp edges of Timmy’s hair; hair he’d cut in the misguided pursuit of a projected ideal. “It does to me.”

Of course Timmy wouldn’t hold it against him. Half a lifetime spent alone has left him desperate for any kind of love, just as starved for it as he is for food. He would probably tolerate far worse than Bravo’s done if it meant not being lonely again. But that doesn’t make it okay. Just because Timmy might be willing to forgive him doesn’t mean he deserves it.

Timmy’s face falls. “Oh. Oh, okay…”

Bravo pushes down his guilt. He doesn’t have time to hash out this kind of personal business, not when the whole Hels Tek mess still needs to be resolved. “Now let’s get goin’, the others are waiting.”

“Right.” Timmy backs away, gaze downcast to hide his disappointment. “After you, then.”

Squaring his shoulders, Bravo turns and walks into the light.

~*~

As soon as the words leave Tango’s mouth, Jimmy immediately realizes what they’re thinking.

“No,” he says. “No, no, no, no, no, no way.” 

Tango turns to him, beseeching. “Jimmy-”

“No!” Jimmy insists, sweeping an arm out. “We aren’t- there’s no way we’re gonna let him put you back in that farm, Tango, it’s absolutely not happening!”

It’s insane to even consider it. After all the time Tango spent withering away in that farm, chained up like an animal, Jimmy would rather pull his feathers out than let Tango step back in there for even a second. He still has nightmares about that place a decade later; Jimmy fears this would completely break him.

(Come on, where’s your sense of drama?)

(What, do you have a better plan?)

(You can’t protect him forever.)

Bravo takes a step towards them. “Just hear us out-”

“You stay out of it!” Jimmy snaps, wings bristling. “I didn’t ask-”

“We’re on the same side, here!” Bravo protests.

“Don’t you start with that-”

“Hey.” Tango puts a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I know it’s not ideal, alright, but think about it. If we try to jump Atlas when he gets here, things are gonna turn out badly. He’ll be expecting it. But if we make him think he’s won, he’ll let his guard down. That’s the best chance we’ll have at pullin’ this off.”

Unfortunately, it makes sense. Jimmy hasn’t spent that much time around Atlas, while Tango and Bravo both worked with him for years. He has to trust their judgement.

(Ooh, this should be interesting.)

Jimmy swallows. “I… you’re probably right, but does it have to be that?” He cups Tango’s face, gently brushing his thumb over a darkening bruise. “I don’t- you’ve been through enough already, I- I don’t want you to suffer.”

Affection glimmers in Tango’s eyes. “I know,” he says, covering Jimmy’s hand with his own. “But I uh, I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought I couldn’t handle it, alright? It won’t be for that long, I’ll be okay.” He glances at the rest of the group. “I promise.”

(Famous last words…)

Some of the Lifers exchange worried looks or uncertain murmurs, but ultimately, they seem to come to the same realization as Jimmy.

“If you’re absolutely sure…” Impulse relents.

Bravo clears his throat. “Good, that’s settled.” He doesn’t sound very sympathetic. “Now we just gotta make Atlas think you guys are out of the picture.”

Jimmy crosses his arms with a huff. “And how do you propose we do that?”

“Simple,” Bravo says. “You all jump in a lava pit, and I tell Atlas I got you in a trap.”

The reaction is instantaneous, several voices protesting at once.

“Absolutely not!” 

“We aren’t gonna just leave you in Hels-”

“This is outrageous!”

“- can’t be serious?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Tango lifts his voice to quiet them, holding his hands up. “It’s the only way, alright? If Atlas sees your deaths in chat, he’ll know you respawned back home, so- so he won’t have any reason to suspect an attack when Bravo offers me up on a silver platter. If you guys don’t die, he might not even agree to meet.”

Jimmy fights to keep his voice steady. “So what, you just get thrown to the wolves? No backup at all?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Tango shrugs. “I don’t like it either, but making Atlas think he’s won is the best way to get one up on him.”

Jimmy frowns at his tone. He’s once again slipped into feigned nonchalance, acting as though he isn’t bothered at all by the prospect of being locked in the farm- the inhumane, painful, extremely traumatizing farm. Whether he’s pretending for their sake or his, Jimmy isn’t sure. The thought sits poorly with him either way.

But they don’t have a lot of options. If they don’t do this, the alternative would mean giving up and returning home, resigned to having that collar stuck on Tango forever- just like his cuffs. And he’s actually letting them help him this time, instead of trying to deal with it alone. Jimmy knows they can’t pass up this chance.

“Alright,” Jimmy sighs, running a hand through his hair, “so then… how are we gonna save you once you’re in Hels Tek?”

(Oh, go on then.)

(This should be good…)

(They just don’t know when to quit.)

Tango gives him a grateful look. “You’ll come back in the middle of the night, attack when he’s least expecting it.”

“Okay… sure,” Jimmy says hesitantly, “but once we come back through the portal, won’t our names show up in chat again, givin’ us away? I mean, even during the night, surely he’s got someone lookin’ out for that sorta thing?” 

“Yeah, we’d be right back at square one,” Impulse points out, “except it’d be even worse ‘cause you’ll be locked inside Hels Tek.” 

Grian knits his brows together. “Without flyin’ machines, it’s days away, right? They’ll have plenty’a time to mount a defense before we get there.”

“You won’t be coming back through that portal,” Tango says, jerking his head at the ceiling. “After the hand-off, Bravo’s gonna leave through it, and you’ll use him to open a new portal to me once I’m in the farm.”

Bravo folds his arms, nodding. “We’re gonna attack Hels Tek from the inside.”

~*~

It’s a long flight to Hels Tek.

Tango knew it would be, of course, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. His body aches from the cramped position he’s in, stowed in one of the minecart seats with his hands still chained behind his back. The jostling of the pistons rattles his bones, ringing in his ears and pounding against his skull.

Worst of all is the constant gleeful malice he’s subjected to from Atlas. The doctor chatters almost constantly throughout the entire trip, pausing only to type the occasional message on his comm. He goes on and on about how Hels Tek will finally return to its former glory, how they’ve proved all those doubters wrong, how this just goes to show what hard work and determination can accomplish, yada-yada-yada.

Tango tries his best to tune him out. Just listening to that voice makes chills break across his skin.

(Whenever he has nightmares about Hels Tek, Atlas is always the face of it. There were plenty of other scientists that tortured him, of course. Honestly, Atlas had very little to do with the hands-on side of things. But he was always there to oversee it. Always looming in the background with that sickly grin, observing every test, every new cruelty with his sharp gaze.

But more than that, he was the one who brought Tango to Hels Tek in the first place. Under the guise of offered allegiance, of guidance, of belonging. He was the one who first made Tango believe that he could be capable of more than he ever dreamed of. The one who told him there was another way, a better way, than the chaos and violence of Hels. He’d promised Tango a home, then turned around and betrayed him.)

It won’t be for very long, he reminds himself. He just needs to hang on for a few hours.

Eventually, Hels Tek emerges from the red mist. The facility has expanded in Tango’s absence. There’s a new addition built onto one side, and another floor added to the central structure- if the extra height is anything to go by. It towers before him imposingly, like a great, toothed maw ready to consume him.

The convoy of flying machines steers around the side of the building, over the surrounding lake of lava, and into the garage. There’s another team of players waiting for them inside, the cavernous room quickly filling with noise as they begin to unload. Tango keeps his head down as he’s man-handled from the flying machine, two guards taking up position on either side of him. Their thick hands nearly encircle the entire width of his arms, rendering any hope of escape null and void.

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have to escape, he just needs to wait.

Atlas nods at them. “Off we go, gentlemen.”

Hels Tek is a maze of hallways and doors, as always. Tango’s eyes track the polished quartz floor as they make turn after turn, mapping out the route in his mind. It’s gotten a few detours here and there, presumably to accommodate all the new expansions, but he recognizes their path as soon as they turn towards the south wing.

Despite himself, his heart starts to pound. He forces a slow breath through his nose.

He can do this. It won’t be for long. They have a plan- his friends will come for him soon. It’s not for forever.

Atlas opens the final door for them with a grand sweep of his arm. “Here we are!” he announces, ushering them inside. “I’m sure you’ll recognize it, Mr. Tango.”

The farm hasn’t changed that much since the last time Tango saw it- but with the way it’s burned into his memory, he’d notice any change, no matter how small. The glass in the front has been replaced- or maybe just cleaned- and there are quite a few more chains attached to the back wall than he remembers, including a short one that looks about neck height.

For the collar, he assumes. So he can’t repeat his last escape act.

He hadn’t intended to fight. He wanted Atlas to think he was resigned to his fate, completely and utterly defeated. That’d be the safer move, for sure. But then one of the guards equips a shimmering pickaxe, mining up the glass blocks to open the farm. And suddenly he’s being dragged towards it, towards the beckoning wither roses within, and every other thought and intention flies clean out of his mind.

Tango screams.

“No! No, no, no, don’t-” He writhes in the grip of his captors, mindless and desperate. “Don’t put me back in there! No, please!” 

It’s futile, of course. His pleas go unanswered, his feeble escape attempts easily overcome as the guards shove him into place. The first pricks of wither rose break skin. Panic threatens to overwhelm him. He screams with a voice that’s foreign to him, shrill and harsh in his ears, vision blurring with tears that are already starting to run cold and black.

“Oh dear,” Atlas tuts, somewhere behind him, “you know you’re simply delaying the inevitable, don’t you?”

Tango fights with all the remaining strength in his tired body, twisting and thrashing to the point of rubbing his own skin raw, trying in vain to lash out, to claw or strike or bite. But the guards are bigger, and stronger, and seem to have been expecting this. They pull one of his hands to the respawn anchor, forcing his spawn to reset. Then they wrestle the chains around him, overlapping the old cuffs around his wrists and locking new ones into place around his ankles, arms, and legs, and clipping onto his collar. Altogether, it renders even the slightest movement impossible.

“Honestly, I thought we trained you better than this. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Tango doesn’t think he’s even screaming words anymore. It’s almost animalistic, a wail of pure terror and desperation, his inner fire trying but failing to respond.

“You may have fooled your new ‘friends,’ but I know what you really are. What you’ve always been.”

As a final touch, they wind the wither rose vines tightly around his body, their thorns digging into his skin. The wither effect is in full force now- that choking blackness consuming him from the inside out. There was a time he’d gotten so used to being withered that he’d scarcely noticed it, not unless it went unchecked and overpowered his health enough to kill him. But after going so long without it, it’s far worse than he remembers; like being plunged into an icy lake. 

“And we can’t have you living a lie anymore, can we? Now you’re finally back where you belong.”

Satisfied with their handiwork, the guards step back and replace the glass wall of the enclosure, sealing Tango inside. His reflection stares back at him helplessly, a distorted sense of self.

Atlas steps forward, grinning broadly, and hits a button on the wall.

The hoppers above Tango unlock, immediately siphoning away the blaze rods hovering around his skull. The dispenser beside him spits out a potion of regeneration, particles fluttering around him as his health begins to even out.

Tango dissolves into broken sobs. The dread that envelops him is almost suffocating, all-consuming, stealing his breath as completely as the wither rose flooding his veins. Distantly, he tries to hold on to a shred of hope, the reminder that his friends will be coming to save him. But it’s hard to believe it, amidst the haze of crushing, freezing agony.

Atlas leers at him from behind the glass.

“Welcome home, Tango Tek.”

~*~

Jimmy chews his lip, his wings shuffling uncertainly behind him.

Invading Hels Tek in the middle of the night is a solid plan, he supposes- if a bit vague. But it’ll certainly put them in a much better position than meeting Atlas on an even playing field. If they open a portal to Tango, they can just show up in the heart of the facility, with no warning whatsoever. Then it’d just be a matter of finding Tango to break him out, finding Atlas to kick his ass, and then returning home through the portal without getting caught.

Simple.

“... I still don’t like it,” Jimmy says, “but if you think that’s the best way to get the drop on Atlas, then I’m with you.”

(Oh, I was hoping they’d go this route.)

(Hels Tek vs Double Life, round two? Yes, please!)

(Can’t wait to see this…)

Tango gives him an appreciative- though slightly apprehensive- smile. “Good. Good, that’s… the best chance I can see us havin’, yeah.”

“There’s one problem,” Bravo says, frowning. “I’m sure once Atlas has you back in the farm, he’s gonna assign a guard to watch you. And as soon as that guard sees a portal spawn in the room, he’s gonna alert Atlas or- or set off an alarm or somethin’, and by the time everyone’s through, our presence will already be known.”

Tango tilts his head. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he amends. “But it’ll give us a hell of a better head start. It’s still our best shot.” He crosses his arms. “Unless there’s anyone else here who’s got a doppelgänger in Hels Tek?”

He sounds like he’d meant it as a joke, but Bravo scans the group before shaking his head. “No, I- I only recognize a couple of you from your doppelgängers, and uh, they aren’t at Hels Tek.”

Jimmy only has a second to feel confused before Etho chimes in. “Oh, yeah, you mentioned that last time,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “That you’ve met my doppelgänger before?”

Bravo huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Your Hels is probably somewhere on the other side of the world right now, and he’s an asshole.” He nods at Impulse. “Your Hels might help us if we show up at his place, but uh, I- I don’t fully trust him. Think he’s got ulterior motives. And his place is still days from Hels Tek, we’d lose the surprise advantage, anyway.”

Impulse looks stunned. “Oh. Okay, then…”

“Hey!” Bdubs barks suddenly. “That’s- what’re you- hyaugh, you- what’s the big idea? Callin’ people- other people’s counterparts bad?” He puts his hands on his hips. “Like- like you’re a barrel a’roses, yourself?”

Bravo shrugs. “Well, sorry, but it’s true.”

An abrupt thought grabs Jimmy. The way Bravo’s acting right now- everything from his terse posture to his bored expression to his flippant tone- is exactly how Tango acts when he’s trying to pretend that he’s unaffected. It’s so obvious, now that Jimmy’s actually looking.

Clearly, his friends’ counterparts have made a greater impression on Bravo than he wants to let on. Must’ve been some pretty… intense experiences, to have left such an impact.

That’s… an uncomfortable thought for another time. Not that it would reflect at all on Etho or Impulse, of course- Jimmy knows better than anyone that all doppelgängers are their own people. It’s just… he hasn’t really given much thought to what his friends’ counterparts might be like, whether any of them would be as nasty and cruel as the players who invaded from Hels Tek.

Tango seems just as uneasy about this topic. “Okay, so- so what are you sayin’?” he asks shortly.

Bravo spreads his hands. “Hey, openin’ a portal to you once you’re inside is still our best option, okay, I mean- I’m just sayin’ we’ll just have to be ready to move, quick.”

“Um yeah, we got that,” Jimmy says, managing not to roll his eyes. “I- I wouldn’t expect any of us to be lollygaggin’ anyways-”

“Hey,” Bravo snaps, “we’ve only got one shot at this, alright? I’m just-”

“Actually,” Grian speaks up unexpectedly, stepping forward. “I… might know a better way. But uh, not unless everyone gets real cool about a bunch’a stuff really quickly.”

Jimmy exchanges a look with Tango, seeing his surprise mirrored in his expression. The room’s attention shifts to Grian, equal parts curiosity and confusion.

(No, surely he’s not gonna…)

(Oh wow, did not see that coming!)

(It’s about time, huh?)

Scott folds his arms. “Go on,” he says cooly, his eyes narrowing. For some reason, it almost seems like he knows what Grian’s about to say. 

Grian swallows. “So, I... have this ability to uhh… kinda, sorta... see between worlds? Like, if I know what I’m lookin’ for, I can uh... project myself, in a sense, and view players without them knowin’.”

Whatever Jimmy might’ve been expecting to hear, it certainly wasn’t that. “Are you jokin’, mate?” he asks, knitting his brows together.

“No, no,” Grian says carefully, “I… I’m bein’ serious.”

Scar gasps. “Wha- Grian, you never told me you were a hacker!” he says indignantly. “You know how good spectator mode would be for pranks?”

Grian presses his mouth into a thin line. “It’s not spectator mode, Scar… though, I- I guess the idea’s similar.”

Jimmy’s mind races. He knows there are quite a few things in the universe that he doesn’t understand- mainly those in the game-breaking and modding communities- so he supposes this wouldn’t be completely out of the question. He’s just shocked that Grian’s never brought it up before now.

Though most of the group seems to share his surprise, there are a couple odd reactions among them. Scott merely nods, expression stony, while Martyn looks bewildered- except, not in the expected way. It’s less like he’s surprised to hear this ability exists, and more that he’s surprised to hear Grian has it.

But whatever’s going on with those two can wait. One thing at a time.

“Oh,” Bravo says, sounding somewhere between confusion and annoyance. “You, uh- is there a particular reason you didn’t mention this earlier, or…?”

Jimmy shoots him a look. “That’d be well helpful, then,” he tells Grian. “If you don’t mind?”

Grian looks away. “I uh, I don’t like to do it,” he says, by way of an explanation. “For- for a few reasons. And I can’t do it for very long. But um… if there’s a chance I’ll find someone else we can open a portal to, that would let us sneak in undetected… yeah, I don’t mind.”

Tango blinks, his eyes wide. “Um. Okay, wow, I- I mean- sure? That’s…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve never even heard of that before, how did- do you know how or- or why you’re able to-”

“Uh, Tango,” Jimmy cuts in gently, “maybe now’s not the time?”

He can tell from the way Grian’s wings are drawing up, feathers ruffled, that he’s uneasy with this line of questioning. Even though Tango has no ill intent, just the excitement of puzzling out a new discovery, there obviously must be reasons Grian’s kept this to himself for so long. It’s his right to decide when and how to share that information.

(Ah, gonna make that mistake again?)

“You’re right,” Tango says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right, sorry.”

Jimmy offers Grian a smile. “Thank you, for tellin’ us. We could use all the help we can get, so, I- I’d welcome some recon. Don’t really see how that could be a bad thing.”

Grian cracks a wry grin, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.

(You sure about that, Tim?)

The sudden echo of Grian’s voice in his head makes Jimmy jump. Realization crashes into him shortly after; he did hear Grian in his thoughts that one time! Well, that’s… kind of creepy, he’ll admit, but it’s a relief he’s not completely cracking under the stress. Not yet, anyways.

Grian falls silent and completely still- save for his breathing. He doesn’t even blink. It almost feels like he’s staring through Jimmy, rather than at him, and his eyes have definitely changed color- though, from behind the tinted lenses, Jimmy can’t tell which one. Maybe that’s the point.

A chill runs down his spine. Seems like Tango wasn’t the only one here living with a secret. But if this whole journey with Tango has taught Jimmy anything, that doesn’t mean Grian’s any less trustworthy. His past is his own business; Jimmy’s sure he’ll explain more when he’s ready.

After a few moments, Grian pushes his glasses up and grins. “I think I know a guy who can help us out.”

~*~

“Right,” Mumbo says. “Okay, uh- lemme see if I understand this.”

(The Double Lifers have settled in what he’s been told is Tango and Jimmy’s house- or, rather, their ranch? It’s charming, in a rustic sort of way, but also a bit cramped, if he’s honest. Especially in the basement, where they’re all gathered around a glowing red portal. A hacked nether portal, apparently. Goodness, what shenanigans they’ve gotten up to…

He’s familiar enough with the Double Life roster. Save for Lizzie and Skizz, it’s everyone else from Last Life- many of them Hermits he’s known for ages. The only one missing is Tango. Despite the fact that they joined Hermitcraft within a short timespan of each other, he regrets that he hasn’t actually gotten to know the other redstoner all that well. They’re friendly, of course- just as much as any of the other Hermits.

But Mumbo certainly didn’t know about any of… this.

So when Grian turned up on Hermitcraft out of the blue- after none of the Double Lifers had been seen ‘round in the last two weeks or so- and insisted Mumbo needed to join Double Life immediately to help Tango, he hadn’t known what to think. He’d agreed, of course, but the rapid-fire explanation Grian provided at the time is still… struggling, a bit, to sink in.)

Grian nods. He’s perched on top of the portal, his upper set of wings just barely brushing the ceiling. “Go on, then.”

Mumbo runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. We-” he gestures to the gathered players, “all have these... alternate-world doppelgänger versions of ourselves called Hels? Like- like Helsknight and Welsknight?”

“Yup.” Grian discretely wipes a purple-stained tear from behind his glasses. He must’ve done something his eyes didn’t like; Mumbo will privately check in later, make sure they don’t need any repairing while he’s here.

“And Tango is one of these Hels,” Mumbo continues, “for- for some guy named Bravo?”

“Yeah.” Jimmy, leaned against one side of the portal, has got an uncharacteristic glower on his face. His wings are drawn-up and ruffled in a way that Mumbo recognizes as unhappy. Seems he isn’t fond of this Bravo character, though Mumbo isn’t sure why he’s so personally invested- “He had this ridiculous notion that Tango ‘stole’ what should’ve been his life,” Jimmy scowls, “even thought we would’a been soulmates.”

(Oh, that’s right. He’s Tango’s soulmate, at the moment. That was the gimmick of this world, Grian explained, but for some of them it’s turned into something more. Yet another surprise; from what little time Mumbo spent around Jimmy in previous seasons, he hadn’t noted any feelings of that nature towards Tango. But then again, they don’t often have time to focus on feelings amidst the throes of a death game.)

“But he’s come around, now, right?” Impulse prompts from back of the room. He’s stood beside a sugar cane farm shoved in the corner, golden eyes shining in the dim light.

Jimmy glances away. “Right, yeah.”

“Right,” Mumbo says haltingly. “Which is… well, it’s a bit- it’s a bit strange, isn’t it? This whole idea of doppelgängers, and a just absolutely wild prison world, and…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Anyway. Right now, Tango is trapped on his home world, in an evil redstone lab that’s… usin’ him for a blaze farm?”

(The thought turns his stomach. Having spent much of his life living and working among all manner of mob hybrids, he can’t imagine ever doing such a horrible thing. Mobs- true, naturally spawned, full-coded mobs- are completely different entities from players. Anyone with even a basic understanding of data analysis knows that.

If these are redstone scientists of a supposedly high caliber, then either the state of technology in this Hels world is far behind that of the rest of the universe, and they truly believe Tango to be more mob than player… or they do understand, and just don’t care.)

Jimmy’s eyes darken. “Yeah. They’re evil, alright.”

Guess it’s the second thing, then.

Mumbo’s eyes trace the redstone circuitry surrounding the portal. “And you need my data in order to open a portal to my uh, my- my Hels guy, doppelgänger fella, who’s a scientist at said lab, so you can rescue Tango?”

“That’s right.” It’s Etho who confirms this time, his mismatched gaze staring down from atop the sugar cane farm. “The explanation’s kinda involved, but there’s like, a weird connection between counterparts that can be used to lock onto coords and open a portal, ‘cause uh, normal comm portals don’t work goin’ in or out of Hels.”

“Right.” Mumbo exhales slowly. He starts tugging at his mustache before he can remind himself to stop, snatching his hand back down again. “Um, well- well that explains a lot, actually, about Tango, and why we’ve gotten radio silence from Double Life for the last couple’a weeks.”

Grian winces. “Yeah, sorry, it’s uh... a bit of a long story. I’ll fill you in later, but right now, we gotta work out a proper plan to rescue Tango.”

“Oh, right.” Mumbo blinks, taken aback. He fusses with his tie. “Alright, um, I- I- I’m not sure how much help I’d be with PVP, but…”

Grian shakes his head. “No, you’re gonna stay here,” he says, to Mumbo’s immense relief. “Y’know, to make sure the portal stays up and runnin’. And if we’re not back by tomorrow, we’ll… need you to go get X.”

“Hang on,” Jimmy cuts in, craning his head up to look at Grian. “I- I thought Tango specifically didn’t want to involve-”

“If we all get stranded in Hels, or worse, then we’ve got no other choice,” Grian says plainly.

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck. “I… guess not.”

(Mumbo’s still catching up on all the dynamics at play, here. But from what he’s seen and been told, it wasn’t Tango’s choice to share his Hels heritage with the Double Lifers. He’d kept it secret all these years for good reason, apparently. Though, whether it was genuinely a good reason or it was something that Tango felt like was a good reason… Mumbo isn’t sure.

Everyone’s entitled to their own past. It’s not as if they often host group sharing circles on Hermitcraft. But spend enough time with someone, and certain things are bound to come up eventually. Mumbo’s gotten the sense before that Grian was far from the only Hermit keeping secrets. And he’s seen that squirrely, backed-into-a-corner look in Tango’s eyes enough to know he likely came from… less than ideal circumstances.

But that’s never been his business. After all, when Grian turned up on his redstone world one day with empty, bleeding eye sockets, Mumbo had helped him with no questions asked. The rest of the story came gradually, piece by piece.)

“Now,” Grian says, gaze flicking back to Mumbo, “Bravo and Timmy should be comin’ back through in a bit. We’ll close the portal behind ‘em, and then when the time is right, we’ll have you open another.”

“Right, okay…” Mumbo hesitates, scratching the back of his head. “Um, who’s Timmy?”

Grian groans. “I knew I forgot to mention somethin’.”

~*~

“Oh, I can’t believe it!” Tango cries, smacking his forehead. “Mumbo’s Hels was workin’ at Hels Tek this whole time? I- I- I can’t believe I never realized- oh wow, that’s- the powers of observation are just…”

He’s never recognized any of his friends as the counterpart to a player he knew in Hels. But how could he? It was so long ago- back then, he didn’t even know that Hels had overworld counterparts. He wouldn’t have assumed anything based on random similarities. And it wasn’t like he ever had a close, personal relationship with any of the people at Hels Tek…

Still, though. He feels incredibly foolish for never making the connection.

“Wow.” Bravo raises his eyebrows. Evidently, he became well-acquainted with Clear during his own time at Hels Tek. “Small universe, huh?”

Grian coughs into his fist. “Yeah, I uh, I don’t blame you for not recognizing him,” he tells Tango. “He’s… quite a bit different from Mumbo.”

That’s an understatement. Everything he remembers about Clear Cut is so different from Mumbo Jumbo- they’re almost opposites, right down to their names. Even their voices are different; Clear always had a thick, slurred way of speaking, his voice lower and rougher than he’s ever heard Mumbo’s. But maybe that’s less an inherent trait and more a reflection of the poor care he took of himself.

It makes Tango wonder what dictates how different a Hels will be from their counterpart. How much of it is based on codes and data, and how much is a result of the world they grow up in?

“Right. No, that- that makes sense.” Tango runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “And uh, that’ll actually work out pretty well. Clear has always been uh… out of the loop, we’ll say, for as long as I’ve known him. He’ll probably have no idea what’s goin’ on, so portaling in front of him shouldn’t raise any alarms.”

Bravo nods. “Yeah, plus he usually spends his time alone, ‘cause no one else can stand to work with him. Sounds like as good a plan as any.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Grian says. He casts a look over the rest of the group. “After we respawn back on Double Life, I’ll hop over to Hermitcraft real quick and grab Mumbo. And while I’m at it, maybe I’ll see if any other Hermits wanna-”

“No,” Tango interrupts quickly. He can already see where this is going. “Look, I don’t- it’s bad enough that you all got mixed up in this, okay, I- I don’t wanna drag anyone else into Hels if I can help it.”

Okay, so maybe he hasn’t completely warmed up to the whole ‘asking people for help’ thing yet. But it’s different. Everyone on Double Life sort of became a part of this the moment Hels Tek invaded their world. They’re already at risk just by proxy, so of course they want to do all they can- despite the danger it puts them in.

He knows Atlas has already been eyeing other hybrids for his farms, and Hermitcraft is full of those. As of right now, there’s no feasible chance that he’d ever encounter them on his own. But if Tango rallies the rest of Hermitcraft to his aid, then he’s putting a target on their backs. That’s the last thing he wants to do to the place and the people that were his sanctuary for so long.

Jimmy frowns. “Tango, you know they’d all feel the same-”

“I mean it,” Tango says firmly. “I’m fine if you guys wanna help, alright, but don’t- no calling in the other Hermits.”

Grian purses his lips. “Fine. I’ll grab Mumbo and come straight back.”

Bravo looks between them before clearing his throat. “Okay, are we- I think we’re ready to get goin’ here, right?” 

“What, now?” Jimmy asks, turning to him in surprise. “Hang on, we haven’t worked out the full plan yet-”

“The longer it takes for you guys to die, the more suspicious Atlas will be when I reach out to him,” Bravo explains impatiently. “We can hash out the rest of the details once we’re back in your world, alright, but it’s gonna take time for Atlas to get here. We should get the ball rollin’ now.” 

Jimmy looks like he wants to argue, but Tango steps in. “Yeah, you guys should have plenty of time to work somethin’ out. You’ll have to wait ‘til night time to portal back, remember?”

“Right,” Jimmy says uncertainly, “but you won’t know the plan-”

“That’s okay.” Tango shrugs. “I trust you guys.”

It’s a scary proposition, sure. He’ll be completely at the mercy of his friends, simply having to just wait and hope their plan works. But they’ve more than proven their capability and commitment over the last couple weeks. If he can’t trust them with this, then he can never trust anyone else in the universe ever again.

Jimmy softens at that. “Alright, then,” he says, sounding touched.

“Good,” Bravo says, sounding decidedly less so. “Let’s draw your lava bath, then.”

“Does it have to be lava?” Joel complains, screwing his face up.

Bravo gives him an annoyed look. “It’s the most believable method for traps like this.”

“We’re gonna lose all our stuff,” Scott chimes in, arms folded. “We’re still kinda in th’ early game back on Double Life, so it’s not like we’ve got plenty’a resources ta’ spare.”

Bravo rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, just- you can give whatever you wanna keep to me and Timmy, we’ll be comin’ back through the portal, alright?” Crossing the room to the pile of chests, he rummages around in one for a second and then pops a couple of yellow shulker boxes down. “Here.”

Tango whistles. “Shulkers, huh? I uh, I didn’t even know shulkers existed ‘til I got out, how… where did you get shulkers in Hels?”

“Like I said, I’ve got a new sponsor.” Bravo shrugs, but there’s an underlying tension in his voice telling Tango to drop it. “You guys get your stuff sorted. I’ve got lava buckets in here, we can just fill the pit… so uh, you all can go for a nice little dip.”

A quiet murmur fills the air while the Lifers set to their task, shuffling around the cavern as they load up the shulker boxes and pour lava into the pit from the buckets Bravo provides. Tango gives his own inventory a quick look-over, but none of the supplies he brought are really worth sending home.

Apprehension gnaws at Tango’s stomach. It’s all starting to feel real, now, the weight of the task set before him finally sinking in. However this ends, he’s going to have to face his past head-on. Back to where this nightmare started. No more running, no more hiding, no more lies.

He’s not sure if he’s ready for it. Even after ten years. But this life he’s built for himself- with his friends, with Jimmy- means enough for him to try.

“Alright,” Bravo says, studying the new lava pit with an approving nod, “I think we’re about ready-”

“Um, hang on,” Jimmy interjects, holding a hand up. “I arrived here well before the others, wouldn’t it be strange for me to get caught in the same trap as them? I mean, if we want him to think Bravo trapped near the portal- it’d be too convenient.”

“Oh, good point,” Tango says, dismayed. His and Jimmy’s join messages will have shown up earlier than the others’ in chat. “Atlas will definitely pick up on that.”

Bravo makes a noncommittal noise. “Well… maybe I could, uh…” He makes a stabbing motion. “You know.”

“What, kill him?” Tango asks, raising his eyebrows. Oh, he doesn’t like the thought of that at all. “Nuh uh. Not happening. We’ll figure somethin’ else out-”

“It would help convince him I’m not workin’ with you guys,” Bravo points out. “Just sayin’...”

“He’s right.” Jimmy puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder, resolve glimmering in his deep brown eyes. “If this plan is gonna work, we need Atlas to fully believe the story Bravo gives him. There can’t be any doubts or questions that would put him on edge, you know that.”

Tango does know that. But it doesn’t make him like the idea any more.

“I… I guess so,” he relents. “If you’re okay with it. I- I feel bad-”

“Tango, one quick death is nothin’ compared to what you’re takin’ on,” Jimmy tells him. 

Tango jerks his shoulder in a shrug. “I guess.”

Jimmy studies him for a moment. Then he puts a wing up to shield them from the rest of the room, taking Tango aside. “Are you… sure you wanna do this?” he asks quietly. “We can just go back home, take some more time. Long as Bravo’s out of Hels, we know Atlas can’t come after us, so we can wait ‘til we’re good and ready.”

Once again, Tango is taken aback at how seriously Jimmy treats his feelings. It’s the sort of consideration he’d never expected to receive before he left Hels. This entire mess is solely his fault, and yet here Jimmy is, wanting to make sure he’s comfortable.

“No, I’m sure,” Tango says, giving him a reassuring smile. “I wanna finally be done with this- this whole thing. Like we said, it’s- the more time Atlas has to prepare, the less likely we’ll be to come out on top. I’d rather do this now, on our terms.”

“Alright, then.” Jimmy lowers his wing and looks over at Bravo. “We’re doin’ it.”

Bravo merely nods, but Tango catches the flash of surprise in his eyes. He probably expected Jimmy to be a lot more resistant to the idea, considering the tension between them. Just goes to show the lengths Jimmy’s willing to go for Tango.

(Whether or not he deserves it remains to be seen.)

Grian claps his hands together, drawing the attention of the room. “Okay, everyone ready?” he asks, surveying the group gathered around the pit. Seeing no objections, he continues, “Good. We’ll go all at once, now, so it looks like a trap.” He glances at Bravo. “You’ll message Atlas after you kill Tim- I mean, Jimmy, right, and then head back through the portal after the hand-off?”

Bravo pulls out his communicator. “Yep.”

Tango clears his throat. “Uh, real quick…” He steps forward, his gaze slowly traveling over the group. “Thanks, you guys, for doing this for me. I swear, I’m gonna make it up to you-”

“Just stop it,” Cleo huffs, looking down at him with a bemused expression. “It’s- it’s- it’s fine, we’re all fine. This is- it’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, we’ve got your back, buddy,” Impulse says warmly.

“Yes!” Ren pumps a fist in the air, lips drawn back into a fanged smile. “We shall show those heathenous scoundrels who they’re freaking messin’ with!”

A chorus of cheers and similar sentiments rises up from the group, and Tango feels his heart swell. He really can’t fathom how lucky he was to find such amazing friends. Even though they’re staring down a painful death and about to embark on an insanely dangerous mission, just for his sake, they harbor nothing but well wishes and high spirits.

Is it really any wonder he learned how to be a good person just by knowing them?

“Right, then.” Grian meets Tango’s gaze, offering a grin. “Good luck.”

Tango manages to smile back. “You too.”

“Okay, guys…” Grian turns to the pit, the lava below glinting in his lenses. “Here goes. Three, two, one… go!”

Tango doesn’t let himself look away as his friends jump into the lava, despite how upsetting it is- the screams of pain, the scent of burning. These deaths are on him. However this goes, he needs to make sure that all the strife he’s brought them is worth it. That, after today, none of them will have to worry about trouble from Hels ever again.

Their deaths are quick, thankfully, leaving the room in abrupt, unsettling silence.

“Okay, looks good,” Bravo says, glancing up from his comm.

Timmy, standing back against the far wall, peeks out from behind his hands, his ragged wings drawn around him like a blanket. “Is it over?” he asks meekly.

“Yeah, almost.” Bravo’s expression is unreadable, but it seems to Tango that his tone might have softened- just ever so slightly. “You can uh, head on up through the portal if you want.”

Timmy hesitates. “Um, I… think I’ll wait ‘til you come back from the hand-off,” he says, ducking his head. “If that’s alright.” 

“Oh.” Bravo rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “You sure you’re gonna be alright here by yourself, mate?”

Timmy smiles faintly. “Yeah, I’m... used to being alone.”

It doesn’t quite have the reassuring effect he might’ve been hoping for, as Jimmy exchanges a pained look with Tango. The guilt in his eyes is startling; it’s almost like Jimmy’s blaming himself for all the misfortune his doppelgänger suffered. As if it’s his fault Timmy was spawned into a prison world.

Yeah, Tango’s gonna have some words with him later…

“Well, that’s settled,” Bravo decides. He swaps out his comm for his sword, giving Jimmy a searching look. “Okay, uh… you ready to do this, then?”

Jimmy eyes the sword. “Yeah, just gimme a second,” he says, turning to Tango.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Tango beats him to it. He surges forward to wrap Jimmy in a fierce hug. “I love you,” he breathes, “so much.”

Jimmy responds instantly, wrapping his arms and wings around Tango just as tightly, sheltering them. “I love you, too,” he whispers. “And I promise you, we’re gonna get you outta there, alright, and- and we’re gonna take those jerks down. I’m not gonna let you get trapped there again, I promise.”

“I know,” Tango murmurs, tilting his head up to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “And I- I’m so sorry that you got caught up in all this, all this- this craziness and all the pain it’s caused-”

“Ey, none of that, now,” Jimmy says lightly. “It’s okay. We’re soulmates, remember?”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “That was just random chance-”

“But I’d choose you again, you know.” Jimmy takes Tango’s face in his hands, somehow steadying yet impossibly gentle. “Even knowin’ what would happen, I’d choose you a million times over.” 

Tango’s throat tightens. 

(God, what he wouldn’t give right now to feel this love through their soulbond instead of that constant, underlying static. It’s not that he doubts Jimmy’s love for him, not at all. Jimmy has made it abundantly clear through everything he’s said and done, even through the hardship of these last couple weeks.

But when Tango was able to feel it, the actual physical sensation of that emotion being sent through their bond, it had given him something more tangible to ground himself with. Something he could cling to in the face of his worst fears and insecurities. Something he could almost point to and reassure himself, ‘Yes, this is real.’

It’s yet another thing Hels Tek has stolen from him- and at the same time, it’s a reminder of what he’s fighting to get back. Not just safety and peace of mind, not revenge for the pain he’s suffered, but the gift of pure, unfiltered love that Jimmy’s given him.)

There’s so much more he wants to say, but he knows they’re out of time. So he simply closes his eyes and leans up to meet Jimmy’s lips. He lifts a hand to cover Jimmy’s, letting the claws that he was once so ashamed of curl around Jimmy’s fingers, pouring all the emotion he’s left unsaid into the kiss.

He’s pretty sure Jimmy gets the message.

All too soon, Jimmy’s pulling back to face Bravo- though he doesn’t let go of Tango’s hand. He lets out a shaky breath. “Alright, I’m ready.”

Bravo, to his credit, doesn’t seem overly keen to murder Jimmy. “I’ll uh, I’ll make it quick,” he says, drawing his sword back. “Here goes.”

Tango squeezes Jimmy’s hand. He holds Jimmy’s gaze even as the glint of metal flashes in his periphery, and he doesn’t flinch when the blood sprays his face.

~*~

Bravo sits back, studying his handiwork with a discerning eye.

“Now this is rough, okay,” he starts, “but it’s- it’s a general idea of the layout.”

‘Rough’ is putting it nicely. The diagram he’s scrawled across several blank maps is hardly recognizable as a floorplan, and there are certainly parts of it that are lacking detail. But there are just some areas he never became that familiar with during his time at Hels Tek, for one reason or another, so it can’t be helped.

It’s better than nothing, anyways.

“This is Hels Tek?” Jimmy asks, his eyebrows shooting up. “It’s massive!”

He’s standing on the other side of the table across from Bravo- where he can keep an eye on Bravo without being too close. Though, space is a bit of a luxury at the moment. The living room they’ve gathered in isn’t all that much bigger than the basement where the portal was. Bravo thinks it’s the same ranch house where he confronted Jimmy and Tango for the first time; clearly, they rebuilt it after Tango burned it down.

Or, after it burned down in a fire that Tango accidentally started, while defending himself from Hels Tek. He’s not the one to blame for that, Bravo reminds himself.

It’s a quaint little home. Even though the room is packed full of players, Bravo can still make out all sorts of personal touches. Framed embroidery pieces hanging on the wall. Discarded golden feathers collected in a glass jar. A well-crafted rocking chair sitting in the corner, with ashen claw marks carved into its arm.

The Bravo of a few hours ago would’ve been tempted to attribute all the warmth in this place to Jimmy. All these sentimental, human touches… it’s beyond what should be capable for a blaze hybrid like Tango- at least, for the blaze hybrid Atlas portrayed him as. But looking around, Bravo can see his doppelgänger’s mark on this place clear as day, and he knows Tango had just as much a role in making this house a home as Jimmy did.

“Yep.” The avian with the quadruple set of wings and freaky spectating abilities, Grian, has perched atop his broad-shouldered companion, Scar- the one with the itchy trigger finger. “I- I didn’t see much of it when I was uh… havin’ a cheeky look, but I got that impression.”

Guess ‘a cheeky look’ is his way of saying ‘astral-projecting my consciousness through time and space to invisibly spy on unaware players.’ Whatever. Why not? This whole situation is already so goddamn weird…

“It’s a bit of a maze, yeah,” Bravo says. “Which is why we’ve gotta have a game plan worked out before we just go runnin’ in there all willy-nilly.”

Jimmy’s wings are hitching up around his shoulders, which Bravo only notices because he’s seen Timmy do the exact same thing when he’s uncertain. “Okay, then… so where do we start?”

“Well,” Bravo says, “if we open a portal to Clear, I- I bet we’ll spawn in the garage. He’s always in there workin’ on the flying machines, and I’m sure he’ll wanna tune ‘em up after Atlas gets back with Tango. I mean, there’s a chance he’ll actually go to sleep at a decent hour and we’ll spawn in his room, instead, but uh. It’s a small chance.” 

“Ah.” Clear’s more sightly and hygienic doppelgänger, Mumbo, is standing beside Scar and fidgeting with his tie. There’s a knowing, sympathetic look in his reddish eyes. “Hard worker, is he?”

Bravo snorts. “Bit of an understatement, yeah.” He points at the map. “So let’s assume we spawn in the garage, here.”

“That’s a nice, big space,” Grian says approvingly. “Should let us get our bearings.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Bravo traces his finger along the lines. “The back wall here opens up to the lava lake that surrounds the whole place, and the entry to the rest of the facility is here. I think once we all spawn in, we should leave a couple people to guard the portal, make sure no one else stumbles across it.”

“I dunno,” Jimmy says, frowning. “Is splittin’ up really the smartest thing to do?”

Bravo shrugs. “I mean, we might be able to spawn another portal if we had to, but it’ll be our fastest way out of there and I’d like to keep it that way.” He gives Jimmy a sidelong look. “You really wanna risk someone breakin’ it before we can get back through?”

He knows exactly how hard it is to build a portal in Hels with the combined forces of Atlas and Alisker in pursuit. If it weren’t for an unexpected sponsorship agreement, it would’ve taken god only knows how long for him to gather all the necessary resources.

“I guess not,” Jimmy sighs. “Um, who should stay, then?”

Bravo’s mildly surprised at Jimmy’s willingness to defer to his judgement. He isn’t foolish enough to think Jimmy’s forgiven him, of course. But it seems like pulling off this mission matters more than holding a grudge.

He looks around the room, slowly examining the gathered players. Proper introductions were a rushed affair after he and Timmy came back through the portal. In an ideal situation, he would be better informed of each player’s strengths and weaknesses in order to determine what role they should play. But he remembers seeing at least some of them in action during Hels Tek’s invasion, and he can infer a couple things fairly well.

For example; the giant zombie player and the dog hybrid are too tall to even stand inside this average-sized room. That’ll definitely cause a few problems.

“My vote is on you two,” Bravo says, nodding at them in turn.

The blond guy with the eyepatch- Marty, was it?- squints at Bravo suspiciously. “Uh, Ren and Cleo are some of our heaviest hitters, what’re you playin’ at?”

Bravo spreads his hands. “Hels Tek isn’t exactly built with players like you in mind,” he explains. “The hallways are only three high. It’s gonna be pretty cramped and hard to navigate for you, so I think you’d be the most help standing guard in the garage.”

“Uh, seriously?” Ren asks flatly, his ears drawn back. “Sorry, my dude, but I’m not the kinda person who lets his friends go out on the frontlines alone.”

Cleo seems similarly displeased. “Yeah, I- I- I don’t- I mean, I- I’ve never particularly claimed to be good at PVP before, but surely I can do more than just… just stand guard?”

“Hey,” Jimmy cuts in gently, “I don’t like it either, alright, but Bravo knows Hels Tek the best outta all of us. We should do what he says.”

Cleo huffs, blowing her bangs out of their face. “Fine.”

Bravo blinks at Jimmy. “Uh- okay, good.” He clears his throat, turning back to the map. “The farm they’ll be keeping Tango in is here. So we’ve got a little bit of a trek, but we’ll be able to avoid the residential district where most of the staff will be sleeping. As we make our way through, stealth should be our number one priority- at least on the way there.” He glances up. “So uh, needless to say, this will be a dog-free mission.” 

He directs it towards the red-hooded moth lady, who’s got a dog seated at her side. It’s only one, but Bravo recalls her having an entire pack; he can hear them outside, even now.

“What?” Red objects, her fuzzy wings puffing up indignantly. “But they’re so helpful!”

Bravo doesn’t budge. “Dogs are loud, and they wander,” he says plainly. “You wanna come, you leave the puppers at home.”

“Oh, alright,” Red pouts. 

“Now,” Bravo continues, “most of the staff should be asleep. But if we encounter anyone, we need to neutralize without killing, or they’ll just respawn in their room and raise the alarm.” 

Marty raises his hand. “I can brew up some splash potions of slowness.”

“Oh, that’d help, yeah.” Bravo tilts his head. “Uh, can you craft some slowness arrows, too? We can have the archers in the group take point, so they’ll get first shot at anyone we come across.”

Scar’s eyes light up. “Oh! That’s a wonderful-”

“Not with your crazy bows of one-shot-kill ridiculousness, though,” Bravo warns. “We’re just tryin’ to get the jump on ‘em, remember? So- so bring somethin’ a little less lethal.”

The blue-haired man standing beside Cleo clicks his tongue. “Boo, you’re no fun.”

There doesn’t seem to be any real objection behind the complaint, though, so Bravo continues. “If we hit ‘em with slowness and knock ‘em out, some basic chains would probably be enough to restrain them. Far as I know, it’s just plain ol’ humans workin’ there.” He scratches the back of his head. “For uh, for obvious reasons. So we should all have a bunch of chains on us, just in case.”

Impulse nods. “We’ve got an iron farm, shouldn’t be a problem.” The less-demonic counterpart of Bravo’s new sponsor seems to have cooled down, but his presence is still a bit unnerving.

“Great.” Bravo turns back to the map. “So we’ll proceed to the south wing, and then-”

“Uh, hey, I got a question.” The speaker is a short man with green antennae and sharp teeth. Jeeze, what was his name- something with J? “Why are we even bothering with sneaking along all these corridors when we can just mine our way through?”

“Hels Tek has a built-in security system,” Bravo says, trying to be patient. “The walls are four blocks thick, and the middle two layers are fed by an instant cobble generator. Soon as a block is mined away, it’ll be replaced- and not only that, but the update will be read by their security system. Same for breaking down any of the locked iron doors.”

“Oh.” Mr. J crosses his arms. “Well, you could’a bloody started with that…”

“So wait,” Etho cuts in, “how are we gonna get past the doors, then?” 

Bravo fights back his annoyance; of all the people to look and sound so similar to their counterpart, why did it have to be Patho’s? It’s incredibly grating. “Each Hels Tek employee has an ID card that grants them access through the doors, so we’ll just snag Clear’s. Should get us where we need to go.”

Etho quirks a brow. “Should, huh?”

Irritation flickers through Bravo. It was said in a light and teasing tone, but in that voice, and with those mismatched eyes peeking over his mask, it just rubs Bravo the wrong way. He opens his mouth to retort-

“So we get to the farm,” Jimmy says quickly, redirecting the conversation. “Once we get Tango out, then what?”

Bravo lets out a breath, willing the tension from his body. He’s not in Hels anymore, he reminds himself; devolving into bickering won’t help anyone. “Then our target will change. We’ll have to find Atlas, preferably before he even knows we’re there.” He points at the map. “This is his room, here.” 

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So we just… kill him, then?”

As enticing as that sounds, Bravo shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy. My gut says he’ll have the key in his ender chest, not his inventory. So we’ll have to overpower him, make him open it.”

“Then we can kill him?” Shorty McShouty asks in that impossibly loud voice of his, big eyes sparkling with equal parts excitement and bloodlust. It’s not very intimidating.

Bravo sighs. “Sure, whatever. But once we have Tango and the key, everyone’s priority should be gettin’ the heck outta dodge. We need to get back through the portal and close it behind us as soon as humanly possible, or else this whole thing is gonna backfire spectacularly.”

“I think it’s a solid plan,” Jimmy says appraisingly. “Is there anythin’ else?” 

“Yeah, actually.” Bravo folds his arms. “We should get a couple chests of backup gear to leave by the portal in case anyone’s killed and respawns back here. And I want one more person to stay here, on this side of the portal. Y’know, to keep an eye on things.”

Jimmy looks confused for a moment before he follows Bravo’s gaze to Timmy, who’s currently doing a very good job of trying to blend into the wall.

Realization settles in Jimmy’s eyes. It’d been an unspoken agreement between him and Bravo that Timmy would stay here. He’s obviously not a fighter, and even if he were, he’s in no condition for this sort of thing. But Bravo doesn’t want to leave Timmy alone with no one but Mumbo. Even though he seems more sensible and capable than his disaster of a doppelgänger, Bravo would rather be sure they have at least some backup, in the unlikely event any Hels players manage to get through the portal before the rest of them return.

“Yeah, good call,” Jimmy says. “Who d’you think?”

Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “Your choice.”

He’d noticed the immediate sense of protectiveness Jimmy felt towards his doppelgänger, and he knows these players far better than Bravo does. He’s the best judge to decide who should stay and look after Timmy.

Jimmy gives him an appreciative look. “Alright. Hey, Bigb,” he says, turning to the dark-skinned man standing beside Ren, “would ya mind keepin’ these two company?”

Bigb breaks into an easy grin. “Sure, no problem.”

Bravo nods his approval. Bigb is a goat hybrid- if the curved horns and floppy ears are anything to go off of. A fellow prey animal will definitely put Timmy more at ease, especially one as un-intimidating and approachable as Bigb. Plus, he seems fairly reserved; Bravo hasn’t heard the man speak once before now. If Timmy’s going to feel safe with anyone here, it’s him.

“Alright.” Bravo pulls out his communicator, checking the timer. “Sunset in Hels is in T-minus three hours, so make whatever preparations you need and meet back here then. I wanna run over the plan again, make sure everyone’s got a good sense of things before we go through.”

Jimmy exhales slowly, determination settling over his features. “Right. Sound good, everyone?”

General murmurs of assent ring out around the table. Bravo rises to his feet.

“Okay. Let’s get goin’, then.”

~*~

Tango swallows the lump in his throat. “So, that’s done.”

It was strange, watching Jimmy die. Despite knowing better, Tango had half expected to die with him, seized by a sort of anticipatory phantom pain. Though he knows it’s only temporary, the loss is immediate and severe- a yawning chasm of ice in his chest. He can almost feel Jimmy’s hand still squeezing his own. And he can feel still-warm blood on his face, but he doesn’t bother wiping it off; it’ll help sell his ‘beaten and defeated’ look to Atlas later.

“Yeah.” Bravo stashes his sword in his inventory, pulling his comm back up. “Right, okay, sending the message now…”

Tango takes a few breaths to steady himself. Unfortunately, that was the easy part. The hard part still lies ahead of him.

The cavern seems a lot bigger with just the three of them, the air filled with nothing but the low bubbling of lava. Tango feels unnervingly exposed, just like he did when he and Jimmy first fell down here. God, was that really only a few minutes ago? Ten, fifteen at the most? After the physically draining fight and emotionally draining conversation, it feels like days. He’s really regretting not getting a full night’s sleep before coming here, but sneaking off in the middle of the night had seemed like his best bet at the time.

A lot of good that did.

“He bought it,” Bravo announces suddenly. “He’s agreed to come get you. I know a spot between here and Hels Tek, ‘bout an hour’s walk away. Should give us plenty of time before he arrives.”

Tango’s heart jolts. While he’s relieved their plan seems to be working, it’s hard not to feel dread. “Oh. Oh, great, yeah. Set it up,” he says, like he hasn’t just signed off on his own arrest warrant.

If Bravo’s picked up on his tone, he graciously doesn’t mention it. He merely nods and resumes typing.

Looking around the cavern, Tango casts about for a new topic before an uneasy silence can settle. His gaze falls on the empty portal frame, and a thought occurs to him. “Hey, uh, if the portal’s gonna be open for a few more hours, we should cover it up before we go. Just in case.”

“Sure,” Bravo says, green eyes still fixed on his comm, “I’ve got plenty’a netherrack just lyin’ around, we can- we can do something.”

Tango glances sideways at Timmy, who’s doing that anxious little weight-shifting dance of his, like he’s torn between moving closer or staying put. “So uh, I guess you’ll just hang out by the portal ‘til Bravo gets back, then?”

“Oh!” Timmy jumps a bit under Tango’s gaze, sending a couple wayward feathers to the ground. He offers a shy, slightly apologetic smile- and god, if that isn’t Jimmy’s expression on his face. “Um, yeah,” he says quietly, “I… I think that’d be best. Lemme just get my inventory sorted…”

He shuffles over to the side of the room with piles of chests and shulker boxes, wings dragging behind him. Tango’s heart tightens; he isn’t the most well-versed on wing care, but even he can tell Timmy’s are in rough shape.

The only reason he hasn’t brought it up yet is because he’s certain Jimmy noticed, too, and is already planning on doing something about it once this is all over. Taking Timmy under his wing, so to speak. The immediate sense of responsibility that Jimmy felt upon seeing his doppelgänger was plain as day. 

All that remains to be seen is whether or not Bravo will agree with that sentiment. Things are still… complicated, to say the least. While Tango’s pretty sure Bravo doesn’t hate them anymore, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’d want to stay with them- or leave Timmy with them. 

And Timmy’s feelings on the subject are another matter, too. He might not realize just how much help he needs- and not just in the physical sense, either- but they can’t force it on him. After they get back to Double Life, they’re gonna have to have a pretty frank discussion about what to do next-

“You know, you’re takin’ a pretty big risk, here.”

Bravo’s sudden voice jolts Tango from his thoughts. He gives Bravo a sidelong glance as he comes to stand next to him; he’s still looking down at the communicator in his hands, brows pinched in an uneasy expression. He looks as tired as Tango feels- but still tense. Always tense.

Tango makes a noncommittal noise as he taps his collar. “Well, I know Jimmy won’t be happy if I just leave this thing on, so.”

Bravo’s frown deepens. “No, not that. It’s just- for all you know, I could hand you off to Atlas and then be on my merry way. Like, once I’m through the portal, I can make a new one with my comm and just bail, leavin’ your friends high and dry, or I could even rat out your plan to Atlas.” He finally looks up at Tango. “And you’d have absolutely no way of knowing.”

The sincerity in his voice is striking. Tango tilts his head. “Huh. Guess that’s true.”

Bravo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wh- you didn’t- it didn’t occur to you that I might pull a double-cross?”

“Not really,” Tango answers honestly.

Bravo runs a hand through his hair. “Jeeze. You would’a thought I was the one spawned here…”

Surprise flickers through Tango. He’s spent the last ten years constantly feeling more ‘Hels’ than all his overworld friends- more monstrous, more violent, more untrustworthy. Rage and sadism, deceit and paranoia. Yet somehow it hasn’t occurred to him that by all accounts, he’s probably more ‘overworld’ than the vast majority of Hels players.

And apparently, more than his actual overworld counterpart.

“Yeah,” Tango laughs, “yeah, maybe I’m a bit lacking in the uh, healthy Hels skepticism department. Or maybe I’m just tired of makin’ decisions based on what I’m afraid other people might do. There’s only so much you can control, you know? We’ve all gotta make our own choices. And as long as I can live with mine, I’m good.”

“Really?” Bravo asks, sounding doubtful. “If you agreed to walk into a trap only for me to betray you, you’d be good with that?”

Tango shrugs. “Sure. But uh, just ‘cause I don’t think you would be.” He clears his throat. “Now, if we’re done with waxing hypotheticals, how ‘bout we get goin’?”

“Yeah, alright,” Bravo says, putting his comm away. “Hey uh, you ready to head up, Timmy?”

“Just about,” Timmy calls back, gathering up the last of the shulkers holding the Double Lifer’s gear.

Tango follows Bravo over to the passageway in the wall. “Yeah, this netherrack hut ain’t gonna build itself.”

Bravo huffs a dry laugh, hitting the button to open the passage. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Timmy can help us out with that.”

“Who, me?” Timmy asks in surprise as he comes up behind them. He has to duck to avoid hitting his head on the way up the stairs. “Um… I’m not good with building at all, Bravo.”

“What?” Bravo’s head whips around, his mouth falling open. “I- I just assumed- you’re not the builder?”

Timmy shakes his head. “No, no, I- wait, are you not the builder?”

Tango barely manages to hold back his laughter. Oh, he can wonder all he likes about the fate and random chance behind doppelgängers and soulmates, but at least some things stay the same.

“No!” Bravo groans. “No, I’m not- I mean, barely, okay. I can do like, the bare minimum, and- and certainly not terraforming or anything- and what are you smirkin’ at, skippy?” he demands, rounding on Tango.

“Nothing,” Tango hums, feeling surprisingly lighthearted despite the fact that he’s literally marching to his own doom. “Don’t worry about it.”

~*~

Jimmy flattens his wings out as the ranch comes into view, slowly gliding towards the ground.

He’s been all over the world in the last few hours, checking on the other players and helping them with preparations. Not that any of them really need his help to craft gear or stock up on food. It’s more for his benefit, honestly, to speak to them one-on-one.

Overall, everyone’s feeling pretty good about their plan. Some of them are rather keen to go on the attack, while others have their reservations. Jimmy’s relayed his and Tango’s encounter with Bravo quite a few times, now- though he knows even he doesn’t have the full story, having been stuck down in that damned pit.

It’s led to more than a couple questions regarding Bravo’s trustworthiness. Jimmy’s done his best to dispel their fears- but in all honesty, he isn’t even sure they should be trusting Bravo like this. Tango’s insistence is the only reason he’s agreed to this insane plan in the first place. He seemed to believe, with every fiber of his being, that they were capable of pulling this off.

And Jimmy will be damned if he lets Tango down.

He takes in the scene as he descends upon the ranch. Bravo’s on the porch with Bigb, leaned against the front railing as they chat. He acknowledges Jimmy with a nod, which Jimmy returns with a raised hand. He doesn’t want to interrupt so he steers off towards Timmy, landing a couple yards away from the other avian.

Timmy’s standing in the field, gazing out over rows of wheat and the distant pastures. His arms hang limply at his side, wings drooping behind him, his face upturned slightly into the late morning sun. There’s a fragile stillness to him. Like a glass bottle on the edge of a table.

Jimmy clears his throat as he approaches, so as not to startle him. “Takin’ in the view?” he asks softly.

Despite his forewarning, Timmy shrinks back a little. “Y- yeah. I’ve… never seen the sun before, you know?” He wraps his arms around himself. “It’s so… warm, and bright…”

Jimmy’s heart aches. “Right.” It hurts to think of how his counterpart- how every Hels player- was deprived of something as simple as sunlight. Living under a bedrock ceiling twenty-four-seven would drive him insane. “Well, I- I’m glad you get to see it now.”

Timmy smiles faintly. “Yeah, me too. I- I can’t believe you guys have… so many passive mobs…”

“Oh yeah,” Jimmy realizes, “Tango mentioned those were uh, pretty scarce in Hels.” He jerks his chin at the pasture down the hill. “Um, d’you wanna meet our cows?”

Timmy follows his gaze and cringes. “Sorry, I… don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jimmy says quickly, “they won’t hurt you! They’re really friendly-”

“No,” Timmy murmurs, licking his lips, “no, I- I’m not worried about that.” The hungry look in his eyes is suddenly unnerving.

Jimmy hesitates. Back in Hels, Timmy had assured him that Bravo was looking after him. Jimmy had assumed that meant Bravo was feeding him, working to slowly repair the damage that years of starvation had done. But looking at him now, Jimmy’s not so sure that’s the case.

He pushes down a flare of anger; that won’t help right now. “Oh, uh- hey,” he says, as casually as he can muster, “I’ve got food, if you’re interested. Got some steak with me, actually, and-”

“Food?” Timmy’s head snaps around, eyes going impossibly wider. “Can- can I have some?”

Jimmy startles at his sudden intensity, managing a laugh as he pulls some steak from his inventory. “Uh yeah, yeah. Here-”

“No!” 

Bravo’s voice, somewhere behind him. In the second it takes Jimmy to glance over his shoulder, Timmy lunges for his hand.

But Bravo’s already there- pushing past Jimmy, he grabs Timmy and yanks him back, out of reach. “Don’t give him that!” he snaps at Jimmy. “Put it away!”

“No, please!” Timmy cries, wings flailing as he struggles against Bravo. His eyes are wild and desperate. “I- I’ll be careful this time-”

“Hey, hey!” Jimmy shouts, putting the steak back in his inventory only to free his hands and pull Bravo off Timmy. He shoves Bravo away, flaring a wing out to block him from Timmy. “What is your problem?”

Bravo holds his ground, getting right in Jimmy’s face. “He still can’t handle solid food, he’s on a strict refeeding regimen! You’re gonna fuck him up-”

“Refeeding?” Jimmy jerks his head back. “What d’you mean?”

Bravo has the audacity to look annoyed, his green eyes narrowed. “Uh, hello? He’s been starving to death for years, any substantial food comes right back up and puts him off the rest of the day- learned that the hard way.”

“Bravo, c’mon…” Timmy seems to have calmed down, now that the food is no longer within reach. “It- it isn’t that bad,” he tries, voice sullen.

Bravo steps back from Jimmy, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, Timmy, you know the rules.”

Jimmy folds his arms, letting his wings settle. “So what are you feedin’ him, then?” he demands.

Bravo bristles under his accusation. “Suspicious stew, saturation. But he can only have it a couple times a day, ‘cause his stomach’s not used to like, actually being full yet. Next meal isn’t for a few more hours, I- I’ve already explained all this to your goat buddy.”

“Huh.” Jimmy frowns. “Wait, where’d you get stew from? You need flowers for that, right? Poppies, or… daisies, right? Not a lotta those in Hels.”

“I told you,” Bravo huffs, “I found a new sponsor.”

The last of Jimmy’s anger falls away, leaving him a bit sheepish. He shouldn’t have assumed Bravo was just letting Timmy starve. They might still have their differences, but everything Bravo’s done has been out of a sense of justice- albeit twisted and horribly misinformed. And despite it all, Timmy still seems to care about him. That ought to count for something.

(Way to go, idiot.)

(Getting all worked up over nothing…)

(Man, you really can’t do anything right.)

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck. “Oh. Right.” He turns to Timmy, who’s giving him a hopeful look. “Sorry, Timmy,” he winces, “I don’t wanna make you sick.”

“Just a bite?” Timmy pleads.

“No,” Bravo says firmly. Then he softens. “Sorry. We can try solid food in a few days, alright?”

Timmy sighs, glancing away. His wings droop even further, defeated. “Okay…”

“Hey, Timmy!” Bigb’s suddenly calling from the porch, beckoning Timmy over with that soothing voice and dazzling smile of his. “You mind helping me out with something inside?”

(Thank the universe for Bigb.)

Timmy hesitates and looks at Bravo, who waves him off. Giving them a final apologetic half-smile, Timmy shuffles back to the porch, following Bigb inside.

The front door closes behind them, leaving the ranch in relative calm and silence; a warm breeze rifling through the wheat fields, animals calling from the pastures and barn. Clouds float lazily across the blue sky. It’s peaceful, the way the ranch always is- except Jimmy can recall another time, not very long ago, when they stood in this very spot on a day much like this one, and he choked on smoke as the ranch burned behind them and his world fell apart.

He wonders if Bravo is thinking about that day, too.

“Sorry,” Bravo says after a moment. “I should’a said somethin’ before, there just… wasn’t a good time.”

Jimmy coughs into his fist. “Yeah, no, it’s fine. Sorry for jumping to conclusions.” Speaking of… he debates with himself for a second before deciding to bring up something Timmy told him when they met. “So… you uh, you trimmed those feathers of his?”

Bravo gives him a sidelong look. “Yeah?”

Jimmy pauses. “Well, did you know you made it so he can’t fly ‘til they grow back?”

“What?” Bravo’s eyes widen. “I- I only trimmed the lowest ones, to keep ‘em from draggin’ on the ground!”

He sounds genuine, at least. “You took his flight feathers, mate,” Jimmy says as gently as he can, stretching his own wing to point them out. “These ones.”

Bravo stares at the feathers, stricken. “I- I didn’t know- I was just tryin’ to clean him up a bit!”

“To make him look more like me, right?” Jimmy asks.

(Oh, shit!)

Bravo closes his mouth with a click and glances away. “Look, I- I already… I know I messed up with him, alright?” he grits out. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I’m not- I mean, I’m not tryin’ to,” Jimmy sighs. “Just… what, exactly, are your intentions with him?”

Bravo’s head whips around to look at him, bewildered. “Are you- are you seriously givin’ me the shovel talk right now?”

The absolute disbelief in his voice inexplicably makes Jimmy flush; he’d sounded smack like Tango just then. “Well- I- I mean,” he stammers, “in a way, I guess? You- you can’t blame me, alright? He’s my counterpart, I just-”

“You wanna protect him,” Bravo finishes, realization settling in his eyes. “You look at him, all frail and stuff with those big sad eyes, and you wanna protect him. I get it.”

Jimmy blinks. “Um, yeah. Is… that why you brought him with you?”

Bravo works his jaw for a moment, evidently rejecting the first thing he’d tried to say. “... not really,” he admits. “Not at first, anyway. I mean- I- I don’t fully understand it, myself, I was just… I don’t know. Trying to claim… some amount of the happiness that you two found? I- I thought I was owed it, I guess. But it was stupid, you can’t- you can’t force these things.”

Jimmy’s surprised that Bravo’s actually confiding all this in him. And even more surprised at the sincerity in Bravo’s voice, the raw ache of it. Seems like he’s gotten over the righteous fury that had its hooks in him. Whatever Tango said to him, back in Hels… it must’ve really hit him.

(Wow, plot twist of the century!)

(You know what that is? Growth.)

(Aw, my problematic fave…)

“Anyway,” Bravo continues, “when this is over… I want him to stay with you. I mean, not necessarily you, specifically, just… here. In this world.”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting that. “Isn’t that up to him?”

Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “I mean sure, yeah, he doesn’t have to stay but… you got a good group here. This world isn’t crazy full, it’s not super dangerous or overwhelming… you’ve got some infrastructure set up, a good supply of food and resources. I think it’ll be a nice introduction to normal life for him.”

Jimmy nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I uh, I was actually plannin’ to offer, once this Hels business is over.” He studies Bravo. “What about you?”

A dry smile tugs at Bravo’s mouth. “I… think I’m gonna go my own way, at least for a little while. I’ve got some uh, you know, some thinkin’ to do… about stuff. After all this craziness, I think I just need to go hang in a solo world for a bit, you know? Figure my shit out.”

“Oh. Good.” 

“Yeah.”

They fall silent for a minute. Jimmy knows it won’t be long before the other Lifers begin to gather back at the ranch, ready to start the final preparations ahead of their mission to Hels. It’s a daunting task that lies before them, so strangely enough, he’s glad to have had this time with Bravo. If nothing else, he’s at least more certain of Bravo’s intentions.

“You know,” he starts, “you didn’t have to do all this. Soon as you came through the portal, you could’a gone wherever you wanted. So I guess… I’m tryin’ to say thank you. For helpin’ us.”

Bravo snorts. “I uh, I figured I owe you guys one. And y’know, it doesn’t hurt that we’ll be sticking it to Atlas. Fucking guy could stand to be taken down a peg.”

Despite himself, Jimmy grins. “That’s somethin’ we can agree on.”

~*~

Tango hangs limply in his chains, still and silent.

He’s long spent all his tears. Atlas left hours ago, but two guards remain posted outside the iron door. Every now and then, one of them will poke his head back in- just to briefly monitor- before leaving Tango in darkness again. Everything seems to be running like clockwork; the blaze rods floating above his head are snatched away right as the wither effect shudders through his body, triggering more to spawn. Regeneration potions smash at his feet on a regular interval, combating the damage just enough to keep him alive. 

Just another day at Hels Tek.

The physical pain is intense- the prick of thorns in his skin, the sting of ice in his veins, the burn of wither rose in his lungs. Every passing minute seems to stack more weight onto his iron chains and shackles, setting a deep ache into his stiff joints and muscles. But his prison allows him no respite, not even the slightest movement to seek a more comfortable position, to ease the pain, so he retreats from his body altogether and withdraws into his mind.

That’s no escape, either. 

Inside his mind is a storm. Tall, black waves of terror crash against each other- a churning, roiling froth, swallowing up the horizon of his mind’s eye. Despair howls on the wind. Any attempt at rational thought is consumed by it, panic shrieking across the sky like lightning.

There’s no way out.

Tango is a small light on a vast, dark ocean. He fights to stay afloat in the storm’s wake. It is entirely without sense or mercy, tossing him violently, head over heels. Weightless. Insignificant. Worthless.

You were made to suffer.

He opens his mouth to scream, but he has no voice, no breath. There’s only water, bitter and freezing- it rushes to sink him from inside, seeping into the hollows of his bones. Drowning him in his own blood, his own tears.

Everything you did was for nothing.

No! He tries to cling to hope; his friends are coming for him. They’re coming for him, they won’t leave him here, he just needs to hang on-

They’ve abandoned you.

The storm rages, smashing his hope to splinters. He kicks desperately for the surface. They wouldn’t abandon him. Jimmy-

He deserves better.

No, he loves him! He does-

Like a fish loves a hook? You will only cut him.

He can’t breathe. Where’s the surface-

Like a moth loves a flame? You will only burn him.

God, it’s so heavy. So cold-

Like a canary loves a coal mine? You will only choke him.

He’s sinking, slipping ever deeper below the waves. Engulfed in the inky void. There are no stars to guide him here, no sun or moon- the storm has blotted them out. Without them he has no direction; he can’t tell up from down, left from right, right from wrong- 

This is all there is.

He’s so tired…

All you will ever have.

Maybe he could…

Give in.

He stops fighting. The relief is immediate; the water cradles him, extinguishing all his light. There’s no more struggle, no more pain- everything is still and cold and dark. He can hear the storm but it’s far away, thunderclaps mere echoes in his ears… 

Give in.

Nothing can hurt him here…

Give in.

It’s so familiar…

Give in.

… he knows this darkness. It-

Give in.

It was so long ago-

Give in.

So long ago yet-

Give in.

He remembers it. He’s lived with this darkness before, he still carries the scars it left in him. And it never left him, not completely. It stalked him from every shadow, lurked around every corner-

Give-

No. He escaped it before. How did he do it? What did he have back then besides darkness-

You have nothing-

A light. That was all that changed, one small light in the face of the storm-

There’s no way out-

He chose the light. Again and again, against every downpour, every flood-

It’s pointless to-

He remembers. Nerves alight with electricity, breaking through the haze. His limbs become his own again, striking out through the dark, thrashing among the stillness, burning against the cold-

You can’t-

He breaks the surface. Chaos roars around him- the sting of wind and salt in his eyes, water grabbing him up and rolling him, thunder rattling through his bones. Half-blind and gasping, the shock and pain of it all almost sends him under again but he persists, fighting to keep his head above water.

Back then, all it had taken was a single light. The light of his respawn anchor blinking out. It hadn’t been easy; he’d needed the strength to seize his chance to free himself, to free his body as well as his mind. He doesn’t have that same chance right now. His body remains imprisoned, and the only strength he needs is his faith.

So he’ll have to bring his own light.

He reaches out into the black ocean for a fragment of hope- and he finds one. It nudges into his side, hard and small. It might be a short piece of wood, splintered from the whole by the storm. But as he blindly reaches for it, numb fingers scraping against its surface, he recognizes it instantly.

A memory; Jimmy next to him in bed, smiling beneath a curtain of golden feathers.

No, let go-

He curls his claws into it. His memories. That’s something he didn’t have back then, to help him face the darkness. Ten years of a better life, a better way. Ten years of sun and happiness. All the light he created, all the love he found, all the good he did- that’s something they can never take away from him, even if they chain his body forever.

More memories brush up against him. He gathers them up in his arms, stacking each damp board on top of each other, willing the structure to take shape against the crashing waves-

All you know is rage-

His creations; netherbrick towers looming from the mountain, higher than he ever thought he could build- a block of TNT hissing in the water streams of Boombox- the sizzle of golems in the Iron Titan- rooting through the spaghetti redstone underneath Decked Out- anvils launching through the air at Toon Towers- nether stars glittering against a black sky- darting past falling lava in Dare to Flare- hordes of drowned shuffling through tinted glass corridors- the leering silhouette of his cyclops under the Big Eye mountain- gazing up at the ranch with pride in his heart- clever farms- creative games- cozy homes-

Good things aren’t made for you-

His experiences; the softness of his first bed- twisting through the air at breakneck speed with an elytra- the hoofbeats of his horse trotting around their eighth world- sweetness of a golden carrot on his tongue- the big moon glimpsed through the window of his spaceship- redstone torches gripped in blackened claws- the thrill of dodging ravagers- infinite horizons stretching before him- the scent of freshly tilled dirt- fireworks lighting up the night sky- the warmth of sunlight on his skin- freefalling without fear- the comfort of a full belly- music blaring from a jukebox- the deafening shrieks of a dying dragon- boundless freedom- endless fun- ceaseless friendship-

You are alone-

His friends; Xisuma waving from across the ravine they’d just exploded- proudly handing Zedaph a piece of renamed string- Skizz cheering and clapping him on the back- whooping as he and Impulse run beside a ghast in a minecart- Mumbo grinning at him from atop a witch farm- sneaking between quartz pillars with Grian- Impulse and him collapsing in laughter as Bdubs fumes at them from the shipwreck- scrambling to build a TNT launcher shoulder to shoulder with Etho- Cleo- Scar- Pearl- Joe- Bigb- Keralis- Gem- Scott- Iskall- xB- Stress- Doc- Joel- Cub- False- Wels- Lizzie- Ren- Hypno- Jevin- Beef- Martyn- TFC- 

You’re a monster-

His love; staring down at Jimmy through the branches of a tree, a creeper explosion ringing in his ears- soft feathers tickling his cheek- Jimmy’s hand squeezing his own- a wing draped around his shoulder- humming as Jimmy spins him around in their kitchen- strong hands that are impossibly gentle- sunlight catching in Jimmy’s brown eyes- whispers in his ear- Jimmy holding him as he cries- a smile against his lips- the sound of Jimmy’s laughter, light and joyful- patience- kindness- love-

There’s nothing-

A portal filled with ever-changing light.

Give-

No. This won’t break him.

He clings to his memories, letting them carry him. A glowing ship riding the dark storm. The ground beneath his feet becomes solid again, walls rising up to shelter him from the waves as sails unfurl to catch the wind. The ship rocks and groans, surging up to crash back down again and again, but it doesn’t falter.

The storm howls, terrible and hungry, but it can’t reach him anymore. He turns his face into the wind and screams his defiance.

And back in the farm, Tango opens his eyes again.

The room beyond the glass wall of his enclosure looks the same as it always does. Everything is dark and still, lit only by the flickering glow of blaze rods above him and the sole light of his respawn anchor. Regeneration particles dance across his vision, competing with the encroaching blackness of the wither effect. Nothing has changed on the outside, of course- he hasn’t suddenly become freed from his prison, hasn’t miraculously escaped the constant pain that gnaws at him.

But he can see the change in his eyes, mirrored in the glass before him, and he bares his sharp teeth in a fierce, triumphant smile.

~*~

CONTINUED IN PART XI, ACT II

[queenofallimagines]

Alexis ness x witch reader

A/N: WHY THE FUCK DID I NOT THINK OF THIS BEFORE?? I TRYING TO FIND A WAY TO MIX MY WITCH HCS WITH BLUE LOCK AND OFC THE EX HARRY POTTER KID WITH THE STEM CAREER PARENTS WHO CRUSHED HIS DREAMS WOULD FOAM AT THE MOUTH!! Was word vomiting onto a page and this came out and I’m like??? Fuck yeah??

TAGLIST: @priv-rose

Alexis Ness:

- I am SO excited for this🗣️

- First of all fuck Harry Potter and fuck JK rat ass Rowling

- Good now That’s that’s out of the way

- He would literally be star struck like he def wouldn’t tell you he believes in stuff like that bc of his childhood

- But like when he sees your so chill he might joke around with superstitions

- But when you know more of them than he does,,,,?

- “Don’t forget! Salt over your left shoulder!”

- “Plant rosemary by your garden gate,lavender for luck and blow cinnamon into your house on the first of the month.”

- “I- what?”

- Putting some sigils for focus and luck in the shoes

- In the inside of the compression suit

- Reading incantations before a game to help(aka mumbling them while pressing kisses to his face)

- Putting a hex on the other team or players you don’t like (Kaiser)

- Kisses as a good luck charm

- Kissing isagi eyelids and forehead so he can smell his goals😔💕

- Charming a necklace he wears during games

- Putting something in his phone case for good measure so he can accidentally not respond to his family or kaisers texts💕

- You could put a little soccer ball charm on your altar for him🥺

- Alexis ness: Love please don’t hex the opposing team I want to win on my own

- Also ness: so like if you COULD hypothetically make isagi twist his ankle,,,,,

- He’s so funny and silly

- Asking you to turn people into frogs

- “It doesn’t work like that beloved”

- I like to think he would go to haunted places and drag you along

- If this is before he knows you’re a witch

- He pretends he just wanted to see the location and he don’t belive in ghosts n stuff

- Even tho he researched like 600 ghost protection methods before yall got here

- The two of you go in, joking around and having fun in the worn down building but the two of you stop dead in your tracks as you hear something?Footsteps...that aren't yours or his.

- Ness clutching you like a damn lifeline

- Your hearts are both pounding in your chests as you walk through the halls, unsure of what is making that noise that doesn’t sound like it’s coming from an animal…

- Mama ain’t raise no Bitch

- So you just straight up yell💀

- “Fuck off! go bother someone else!”

- Poor baby Ness quickly clamps his hand over your mouth, his eyes wide at your outburst. Whatever was making noise in the abandoned hospital immediately stops making noise tho 💅🏿

- Ness gives you the “you’ve lost your damn mind” look

- “Hey! Maybe don’t make whatever it is more pissed off-!”

- “That’s how you banish ghosts! so unless it’s something more dangerous you can tell them to kick rocks! We’re technically on their territory but like same thing I guess. They can’t do much but scare us and I’ve got like 10 protection charms they can’t really do much.”

- Pause

- Rewind

- Excuse me?

- “Y’all got about three seconds to get the fuck up out my way and two of ‘em are already gone because I don’t count shit but money so get to stepping Casper!”

- He’s going to propose to you

- “ Wait! You’ve got protection charms-!?”

- Ness is side eyeing you hard asf rn😭

- Not in a bad way but a “when was this??” Type of way bc he knew nothing of this

- “Ok then…but what about those ghost hunting shows! like there’s those that say that if they get pissed off they can hurt you for being on their ‘property’ if I remember correctly..”

- Like he’s pulling out his ghost busters encyclopedia lmao

- “Those are fake and I’m a witch they can’t fucking touch me. I’ve talked to demons🙄Some old grumpy spirit can’t do much but give me nightmares and even then they’ll have to box me about it”

- Lmao he’s like full stop staring at you wide eyed

- Kaiser baby you’ve been dethroned I fear

- A new emperor about to spin the block😔✊🏿

- Oh! And not let him hear you WORK with deities

- He will be like a kid in a candy store

- Like trauma suddenly gone lmao

- His ugly ass momma saying all that vile shit to him as a baby suddenly never happened

- He’s living his Peter Pan dreams!!

- Ness’ jaw drops to the floor as he hears you list out the demons you’ve worked with.

- Kinda thinks you’re making fun of him at first so he bristles at you but when he sees you’re not even smiling about it he’s even more shocked

- “So..you made a deal with them or something-? If you did that’s like….your soul is basically his now, right!?”

- “Not really? I just had to ask nicely.”

- Lmao he’s like trying to rewire his brain right now

- Nagging voices at the back of his head telling him

- Magic isn’t real and there’s probably a logical explanation for all of this like you’re so clearly kidding

- “Y-You’re like…a legit witch? Like you can do magic and summon stuff!?”

- “Yep”

- He stares for another few seconds before a smile creeps onto his face, his eyes going wide with amazement?

- Like you can actually see the stars

- “Dude this is SO COOL! You’re like a bad ass witch! Wait…CAN YOU DO MAGIC RIGHT NOW!?”

- Dragging you through the hospital as suddenly he done forgot about the shorts or whatever

- You flinch at something dripping but he don’t even turn around to look at it he’s rambling to himself for the most part

- “Alex baby It’s not like Harry Potter but I do curse people and do old ancient spells and stuff. Like I’m technically doing magic right now? I have a protective charm on us so nothing can try anything funny-“

- “A PROTECTIVE CHARM?! YOU CAN DO PROTECTION MAGIC TOO!”

- Lord

- He grabs your hand and starts yanking it

- Chill out???

- he’s excited about this magic stuff and as he holds your hand, he seems so innocent and curious about all of this now.

- “Show me some magic…PLEASE?”

- “Like what spell do you want? And again not like flying magic. It’s more…I guess stuff close to that? Still within the realm of reality. But I mean technically your parents do magic too right? They’re scientists. And just before you know how something works doesn’t mean it’s less magical yknow?”

- Ignoring the fact that last part is what sparked this entire head canon I’m right leave me alone

- “Eh..scientists are just nerds who figure out how things work, not really magical.”

- He’s gunna start pouting, he didn’t really believe in his parents nerdy sciencey stuff

- but your magic that’s WAY more interesting! Magic! Actual magic! How cool is that!

- “Magic isn’t just something you can’t understand. Like think of it. We don’t know shit about gravity and it’s still just a theory but if I drop something it falls right? Same principal. Things seen and unseen in this earth are magic. Like you can use chemistry in spell work all the time. like urine and bleach make chloramine gas and I’ve used that in curses.”

- See he only heard that last part I’m afraid

- was DEF not expecting the last part to come out from your mouth

- “I’m….You…put piss…into your curses?”

- “I WILL call the ghosts to come jump you on my behalf…”

- That got his ass In check real quick lmao

- “like the possibility that I CAN. Like it could be for a nightmare curse. Throw in some poppy seeds for mental unrest and nightmares, vinegar to sour their mind and maybe black pepper to get them to leave your life really fast.”

- “Huh…so piss, seeds, vinegar and black pepper in a mixture makes a nightmare curse…”

- “Why did you write that down….”

- Hope your grimore or whatever isn’t like private bc he WILL dig through that every chance he gets

- Got all the books on your shelves unorganized and fucked up be he done ran through them

- Like can you have some class??🙄

- Sits and stares at your altar for hours

- Like he’s looking at everything on it to see if he can figure it out

- No that table cloth is blue because that’s all I had leave me alone!!

- Back to deities

- He will always be polite

- Nothing if not a gentlemen

- Will say hello to them before YOU walking into the crib

- Like you know when a boy is so polite he talks to your whole family before even remembering he came there for you?

- That’s him

- “Hi great grandma! I bought you some of that liquor you like”

- Leaves more offerings then you I’m afraid

- He’s so baby deer coded they love him

- Everyone and they momma will ride or die for him.

- So like don’t let Kaiser be within a one Mile radius of your house and talking bad to him

- Matter fact? Don’t even watch his games in your home

- Bc now everyone mad

- “Why is he disrespecting my baby like that?”

- Like house is in shambles

- “Go give this to him”

- “What? But wasn’t this mine-“

- “Did I stutter?”

- He’s so beloved

- “I call him old man a lot. Or like Lucy-“

- “Lucy….king of hell, devil incarnate, Lord of the Underworld, and one of the most infamous fallen angels. And you call him LUCY?!”

- Jokes that your food is made with love but like now he’s not sure it’s a joke at this point….

[bingeate-r]

hiii hope you’re doing great! :) i was wondering if you could write about zayne reacting to the reader listening and singing along to like the weeknd or a song with rather explicit lyrics, like slow down or meddle about from chase atlantic (the song doesn’t matter you can choose whatever!) and reader just sings along really loudly in a car ride, it can be pure fluff or suggestive whatever you like and are comfortable with! gender neutral reader is fine w me but i’d prefer if you used fem (if that’s okay with u ofc)

thank you 💗💗

Hello! I’m doing great, and I hope you are as well!! I have no problem doing a fem reader 🥹

I hope you like what I came up with!!

Zayne

A set of narrow eyes flicker down to the bright phone screen held in his hand, reading the message that had popped up. It was from you, he knew that instantly because his phone was set to ding differently when you texted, ensuring he would never miss an opportunity to talk to you.

‘Waiting outside by your car, be quick! It’s cold 🥶’

A simple message, followed by a picture of you next to the car for proof, as if your every word wasn’t pure gospel to him. The photo was saved in an instant, hands sliding up to lock the phone before returning it to his pocket.

He kept his gaze forward, confident strides leading him down the familiar halls of the hospital. Each step brought him closer to you, his heart racing by the time he reached the exit. When he found his car, his focus shifted down to you, who was dancing happily around his car, phone in your hand as you recorded the moment.

His hesitation allowed him to take the moment in, commiting it to memory. With a curt shake of his head he continued the short journey, stopping in front of the drivers side door. As you spun around, your gaze locked on him, a wide grin rising to take up your features. He found it hard to not beam back, fighting the urge to reach out and pinch your cheeks. Instead he nodded, making a quick move to the opposite side of the car, opening the door for you.

“Get in, you’ll get sick if we don’t warm you up soon.” His voice was smooth and tempered, his hand darting out to cover the edge of the car so you could dip in safely. In the time it took him to close your door, and open his own, you had the aux chord, plugging it into your phone with a sweet smile.

Zayne simply observed, finding no reason to protest. As you lined up the queue, body wiggling in excitement, he leaned over. A large arm wound around you, grasping the seatbelt and pulling to fasten it in the hook. He gave it a gentle tug for good measure, before repeating the actions in his own seat.

“Oh Zayne, this song is sooo good!” You sung out, hands darting to crank the sound up. His eyes flickered seamlessly between you and the road, unable to miss even a moment of your light. He had a long day at the hospital, but just being near you made him feel better- your energy was infectious.

“Is it?” He quipped back, hands steady on the wheel. Your only response was a nod, readying yourself for your favorite verse. Your body swayed side to side, hands flying through the air.

Zayne couldn’t have been more grateful for a red light in his life, now having a chance to fully look at you. You were singing at top volume, the sound of your sweet voice filling the car and consuming his mind. You would be the death of him.

He let out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding in, eyes locked on you as you danced about. Every movement was so carefree, and so full of life- it was impossible to not get captivated. Zayne broke one hand free from the wheel, reaching out as you slowed down, now looking at him with a grin. Your hair was a mess around your face, chest heaving slightly as you struggled to catch your breath after putting on a one man show. Slender fingers met your cheek, gently guiding your hair back to clear your view.

“I think I like this song.” He spoke, his usual intense stare nothing but a soft and warm pool of fondness. Zayne was pulled back to reality abruptly, the car stuck behind the two of you honking. He had been so lost in admiring you that he hadn’t even noticed the light turning green.

He cleared his throat, a diffusing cough flying out. You were a giggling mess, returning to your dancing in an instant. His body shifted back forward, focusing on the road, using it as an excuse to regain some composure. He could feel his ears burning, and he was hoping it was dark enough you wouldn’t notice.

Zayne decided in that moment you would be in charge of the aux chord permanently.

[leclerced]

I read this one shot about pegging Oscar and now I want to peg him and Lando. I actually think they’d be too shy to ask for it themselves but then when Lando’s girl finds out he’s all blushy and stuttering but admits he’s willing to try (he’s desperate but he won’t say that). Then it becomes a thing where they love doing it from time to time and they’re pros in it by the time. So one time they’re doing it in Lando’s driver’s room and Oscar walks in. For a moment he’s too shocked to look away (you can’t blame him, Lando stuffed with a dildo is a sight for sure). Then ofc he closes his eyes and for good measure covers them with both of his hands and tries to walk away but walks into a wall or trips over sth. After that he has some thoughts and all of them consist of being fucked by Lando or Lando’s girl and fucking both of them too. And because of that he can’t look them in the eyes even more. Because it’s one thing to walk in on someone it’s a whole another universe imagining things like that and getting hard when you see your teammate

ugh i think i know the one u are talking about and it broke my brain.

lando's girl wouldn't even know he's into it. she's used a strap before on her ex girlfriend so fucking someone isn't foreign to her, and she misses the feeling of fucking someone like that. she hesitantly asks him one night, if it's something he's ever thought about. lando, having never thought his girlfriend would even know what that is, panics thinking he left a browser open or something, and tries to sound calm as he says yeah, maybe once or twice. then she's asking if he would actually want to do it or if it's just a passing curiosity. he can tell she wants to do it as much as he does by the way she's avoiding his gaze and twisting his rings around his fingers, he's grateful she's not looking at him so he won't see his flaming red cheeks and the way his eyes are eating her alive, his mind running wild with thoughts of her fucking him. when he says he'd like to try it, she bites the bullet and asks if he wants to look at strapons together. just imagine them looking at all the options and picking it out together, anxiously checking tracking every day until it arrives and then it sits around for two weeks because they get super busy and don't have time to experiment with it at all.

oscar would be sooo embarrassed, not for walking in on them, that's happened enough times he doesn't even react. but once he sees the position they're in, realizes that lando's being pegged by his girlfriend? they're so caught up in each other they don't even notice him walk in or bump into something on the way out, covering his eyes and stumbling out of the room blindly, twisting the lock shot before he closes it behind him so no one else will bear witness to what he did.

he can't stop thinking about it. it was something they joked about when they got drunk, when she said suck my dick and someone said she didn't have one, and she quipped back, i have a pink strap-on thank you very much. he'd thought it was a joke, he hadn't thought much of the blush that rose on lando's cheeks or the way he didn't laugh as hard as everyone else did at his girlfriends drunken ramblings. or when daniel said how lando liked it up the ass and oscar took that as being bisexual and them having a past, which maybe it still was, but now he's rethinking the way lando's girlfriend giggled and swatted at his shoulder.

he can't stop thinking about the passing jokes made now that he knows she actually has a pink strap on. pink from the silicon cock to the straps around her hips. he tries pushing the image from his mind and is successful until he sees them hours later, lando surprises him by slapping him on the shoulder and sliding into the seat next to him, lando's girlfriend nowhere in sight. he's expecting his teammate to ask him not to say anything, but lando just shows him some video on his phone and oscar tries to stop thinking about the way his hand holding his phone was fisted around his cock earlier.

he can barely get through a conversation with either of them, he can't look at either of them without his mind drifting to thoughts of joining them in any way they'd allow. he thinks about the way lando whimpered and asked for more and how he could make lando beg, or maybe his girlfriend could make oscar beg? he's never done that before but every time he looks at her he's tempted to get on his knees before her. or bend her over whatever surface she's leaning on and make her beg. he keeps zoning out in interviews when they walk by, having to ask reporters to repeat their question because he saw her eating a popsicle and lost his train of thought to a new fantasy about his cock in her mouth.

lando noticing he's acting weird and asking if he's okay, if he's getting enough sleep. and the answer is no, because oscar can't sleep without dreaming about them and he wakes up achingly hard every time. he doesn't want to sleep if it means he can't block his mind from assaulting him with visions of his teammate and his girlfriend both begging for him to fuck them. but he just smiles and says he's fine, trying not to short circuit as his teammate squeezes his arm and says to let him know if he needs any help. with what, oscar doesn't know.

[hunzzzzz]

Tell me sweet little lies: part 1 (Kendall Roy x OFC)

Summary: Diane is lost in a whirlwind of of lies, deceit and betrayal. Can she stay afloat or will it all catch up to her.

Warnings: smut, light sub/dom undertones, P in V sex

A/N: Me 🤝 coming up with new fic ideas instead of completing my other fics

Ao3 link

The room throbbed with a cacophony of laughter and music, but Diane's focus was unwavering. She met his eyes from across the crowded space, a predatory glint in her own. The contact was electric, a silent promise between them. She took a long measured out sip of her drink, savoring the moment before rising to her feet.

As she moved through the throng, she felt the weight of every pair of eyes on her. She reached the bathroom door, pausing to glance back at him, a silent invitation. A smirk played on her lips as she disappeared inside,

Diane wasn't a stranger to these kinds of gatherings, but this one was different. There was a purpose to her presence, a target she had set her sights on. She wouldn't leave until she had claimed her prize.

She stood before the mirror, reapplying her lipstick, and she heard a familiar sound. The bathroom door creaked open, and a shadow fell across the glass. She watched as he hesitated, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation in his eyes. With a confident stride, he stepped inside, locking the door behind him. The room was now theirs, a private stage for a performance only for them. Their eyes met in the mirror, she smacked her lips together, getting the gloss to evenly coat her plump lips.

“Do I uh, know you?” He asked, taking a tentative step closer.

Diane turned to face him, her gaze steady and unwavering. "No," she replied, her voice a low, seductive purr. "But you could get to know me."

Intrigue flickered in his eyes. "Oh?" he said, closing the distance between them. "And how would I do that?"

Diane smirked, her eyes dancing with mischief. "I think you already know how," she replied, her fingers tracing a path up his chest.

That was all it took for her to get him, line hook and sinker, it was almost too easy. He had her pinned against the cold tile, a desperate mix of teeth and saliva. She could taste remnants of tequila and salt, a distinct taste.

He kissed her jaw, his breath frosting at her ear, “my place is upstairs.”

They made it to his top floor penthouse, he tugged her into his bedroom. She looked around the space, if she was impressed she didn’t show it.

“Nice place,” she said, pushing him down onto the bed and positioning herself between his legs.

“Did you just come here to look around?” He grunted, his hands slid up her thighs, squeezing her ass, digging his short fingernails into her flesh.

He was eager, impatient, ready to sink his teeth into fresh meat. He was only looking for one thing tonight; some good pussy. And so far he had succeeded in his quest.

She sank to her knees, unbuttoning his jeans and he helped pull them off. If she was going to pull this off she had to give him something, she had to make it worth his while, keep him distracted, although the alcohol on his breath and his dilated pupils were more than enough for him. Diane still had to give him the final push into the abyss.

She trailed her hands up his bare thighs, slowly brushing one against his bulge, palming him through his boxers.

“Fuck,” he groaned, moving his hips against her hand, “don’t be a fucking tease.”

He was practically begging after one touch, he clearly needed this. He would have taken anyone up for a quickie from the party, he got lucky that he landed the 10. But unbeknownst to him, this was all planned by Diane, it wasn’t divine intervention for him to get laid, it took weeks of planning and precision. She had studied him, she saw every headline of the prodigal son drowning and snorting away his sorrows. She knew his bars, nightclubs, dealers, his hangover breakfast order, she knew everything, he was a loyal test subject; her personal guinea pig in her lab. He was pathetic really to think anyone would want him, for him in a crowded room.

She slipped her fingers under his waistband, and dragged them down his legs, putting his length on display. He wasn’t big, but he wasn’t small either.

“Are you done staring?” He mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Take a fucking picture.”

“You’re not as big as I thought you’d be,” she stroked his member, from base to tip, licking along the side of it.

“I fucking promise you it works just fine, you’ll see.” His breathing got heavier as she wrapped her hot lips around him, her tongue swirling around his swollen tip, “fuck yeah, just like that.”

Diane loved giving head, she loved being in control, breaking men down in their vulnerable state. Hearing them moan and groan while she had her lips around them made her get wet. And this man was no different, his breath hitched feeling her saliva run along him, this was the only time he felt good, the only time he could switch his brain off and focus on one singular thing. He lived every moment of his life in pure agony, the past loomed over him, shadowing every thought in his mind. But when he was with someone, a beautiful woman kneeling between his legs, he could forget, surrender for a fleeting moment. He shut his eyes and exhaled a breath of fresh air after weeks of drowning in the lake.

He placed a hand at the back of her head, “I know you can do better than that,” he pushed her down to take more of him. He needed more of her, he needed all of her.

Diane hollowed her cheeks, taking more of him with each bob of her head, his stifled moans edging her on. His hand was tangled in her hair, gripping tight, scared that if he let go she would vanish into thin air, leaving him alone in the dark.

He watched her as saliva dripped down her chin, he moved her head at his own pace, pushing her down further, his tip kissing the back of her throat, the heavenly sound of her gagging. He held her there for a moment, and she let him, she let him take whatever control he needed to feel like a man. She didn’t gag or choke on it, she held her breath, waiting.

“Fucking hell how are you doing that,” he pulled her off, a satisfying pop leaving her lips, “you’re such a dirty girl, how many dick have you sucked with that whore mouth.”

She panted for air, seeing stars dance in her vision, the lack of oxygen leaving her momentarily speechless, “please,” she got up to stand between his legs again, “if you were a few inches bigger then it would’ve been a real challenge.”

She lied effortlessly, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her in distress. Stroking his cock was one thing, but stroking his ego was another, something that she wouldn’t give him.

She unzipped her skirt seductively and let it drop to her ankles, she stepped out of it and kicked it away with her heels, unbuttoning her silk blouse and shrugged it off, only left in her matching lace set and 4 inch heels.

He stroked his cock, tip glistening at the sight of her. She was petite with a small build, but her assets were the real show stealer, her breasts filled out her lace bra effortlessly. Her lace thong parting her cheeks like fucking Moses and the Red Sea. The front of her underwear was see through lace, giving him an unearthly view of her smooth mound.

She braced a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to unbuckles her heels, “leave them on,” he held her wrist.

Did he really think he could order her around and she would just let him. But she did, in this case, whatever kinks he had she would indulge them, because she needed to do what she came here for.

“Cute,” he pulled at her bra strap, it smacked against her shoulder making her hiss. He reached around and unclasped it, letting her breasts spill out, dense with a pointed bulls eyes in the middle, right on target, symmetrical and mesmerizing.

She was perfect. He was sick, he liked them younger, though he didn’t necessarily scope out for younger women. It was a hideous part of him he tried to keep hidden, but it reared its ugly head up whenever a younger woman approached him, he couldn’t resist. How could he turn away such a necterous, youthful, blossoming body, it was his weakness, his kryptonite. The younger they were the perkier their tits, more sensitive, more responsive and boy did he make them respond to his touch.

She leaned forward, sandwiching his face between her breasts, “suck me,” His hands dug into her hips, he put his mouth to use, sucking and nibbling on her nipple like he was hoping for milk to come out. She ran her fingers through his raven black hair, “good boy, yeahhh you like that? You like sucking on my tits, don’t you? You’re a pathetic little boy.”

She pushed him back on the bed to lay down and climbed on top of him, planting herself on his erection, keeping it incubated. She was getting impatient now, she wanted this to move along faster, she didn’t want to be slow and gentle. She wanted to break bones, bite skin. She ripped his shirt open and ran her nails down his chest, leaving delicious red scrapes along his chest, leaving behind remnants of her, an artist always signs their work.

“Wait,” he held her forearms, “how old are you?” He asked, not because he cared, but to sound like a good guy. Convincing himself that he was a good guy, he tried to stop it, he had enough self control. But he was lying to himself, because deep down he knew it wouldn’t make a difference if she was 18 (the youngest he would go for) it wouldn’t change a damn thing. Because he needed this tonight, he needed someone’s touch, he needed to feel enough for someone.

“Old enough,” she dismissed him, rubbing her lace covered slit against his erect member.

“No seriously,” he groaned, through his disgusting lust, a silver of morality broke through. The last thing he needed was to catch a case right now.

Diane looked younger. She had an innocent face with big doe eyes— those fucking eyes could get her anything she wanted. But she wasn’t as innocent as she looked, she was 25, but her petite figure made her a pedophile’s wet dream.

“Do you want me to sign a fucking NDA ,” she moved her panties to the side, guiding his meaty cock through her folds, “or do you want me to fuck you?”

He saw it, her pinkness illuminating around his cock, caging him in all its glory. He wanted to reach over and get a taste, to drown in her wetness, salivating at the thought of having her spread out in front of him like an entree.

“Do you have a condom?” She snapped him out of his wet dream.

“Bedside drawer,” He pointed, “Wait, let me touch you first.”

It was true he had barely touched her, but she didn’t care. This was just a means to an end, a solution to a problem for her. She didn’t care for her own pleasure, she didn’t want to feel good. Nothing about this hookup was supposed to be memorable, it was a quick in and out job. Efficiency was key. She would do what it took to keep him satisfied, pleasure him.

“No, it’s fine.” She wrapped him up, “I don’t need it.” He would never be good enough to make her cum, a task no man had ever succeeded at. That was partly the reason why she liked to be more dominant in the bedroom, she liked to take control and satisfy others’ needs instead of her own, because that was the only thing she was good at. She couldn’t receive pleasure, she couldn’t accept it no matter how hard anyone tried, it was too intimate, too vulnerable to open that part of her up to somebody.

Diane took her panties off and turned around, the last thing she wanted was for him to try to kiss her during it, it was supposed to be a night of forgettable sex, nothing more nothing less. She realigned him with her entrance and sank down on him, the pleasurable stretch made her breath hitch, she heard him moan behind her.

He watched her sheathed down on him, her hips found a rhythm, her hands braced his thighs for balance as she rode him. He held onto her ankles, her heels resting at his sides.

Her breasts smacking against her with each rutt of her hips, echoing through the room. Her ass jiggled, shockwaves reverberated through her entire body, her movements were precise and calculated, she knew what would get him going.

He thrusted up to meet her half way, she bit her lip stifling a moan, “don’t hide your dirty noises from me,” he grunted.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back to lay on his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, their cheeks plush together, “come on let me hear those pretty sounds,” he demanded, thrusting up into her roughly, keeping a brutal pace, fucking out every comprehensible thought from her mind. It was quick and thoughtless sex, dirty, over before it had really started

His dick felt bigger from this position, Diane couldn’t help but let out a gasp, this isn’t what she wanted, she didn’t want to enjoy it. She wasn’t supposed to enjoy this, but fuck he was good, he knew what angle made her quiver.

“Do you always talk this much,” she panted, she preferred her men quiet during sex, she wasn’t into the dirty talk. She didn’t like to be called princess or baby girl, she didn’t need their praise or encouragement. She liked to take charge, to have them a whimpering mess under her, begging, pleading.

“Are you always such a bitch,” he growled, kissing the side of her neck, his hands clasped around her breasts, squeezing them. “Just relax baby, let me take care of your pussy,” He finally reached that sweet spot behind her ear and a moan escaped her, making him grin against her skin, he bit her neck, teeth marks gashing against her skin.

“Yeah that’s right, I’m fucking good,” He pounded into her, one of his hands left her breast, traveled between her legs, rubbing her clit. “Tell me I’m fucking good.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, she knew she wouldn’t get much out of his attempts to make her orgasm, but it still felt good, “I’ve had better.”

“Yeah in your fucking dreams,” he grunted, his thrusts got messier, “are you close, fuck I’m so close.” She could feel his chest heaving against her back, he was about to let it all lose, she clenched her walls around him, knowing it would drive any man crazy.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m there too,” Diane put on a performance, moaning and whining, anything to get him off.

“Fuck, say my name,” he commanded, speeding up his thrusts.

“I don’t know your name,” she whined, but in fact she knew his name, date of birth, the type of car he drove, the make of his watch, his address, his children’s names, his college.

“Kendall, fuck, it’s Kendall. Say it.”

“Kendall,” she whispered, and he tensed inside her, his grip around her tightening.

“Fuck you’re so good, so good, so fucking sexy,” he mumbled incoherently, pussyy drunk.

Diane climbed off him, collecting her clothes from the ground and went to the bathroom. She flushed out whatever STD’s he might have, judging from the fully stocked box of condoms and multiple toys in his bedside drawer, she absolutely had to be careful. She got dressed, freshened up and tried to pull the old Irish goodbye. She tiptoed past Kendall who was still lying on his back, his eyes shut, the condom had since been discarded.

As she made a beeline for the front door, Kendall appeared out of thin air.

“Leaving?” He stood behind her dressed in a pair of briefs now, “without a goodbye?” He gave her a toothy smile, which did nothing for her.

“Yeah, I got stuff to do in the morning.” She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “But I’ll see you around.” She reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” he stopped her again, “I uh, didn’t get your name.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she looked back at him with a wink, knowing that he wouldn’t.

It was just sex, nothing more, nothing less. She had done what she came to do. She sought him out with one sole purpose in mind, and she had left after completing her mission.

The next morning, Diane walked into work, her shoulders squared and a proud smile playing on her lips. She strode into her boss's office, "We got him."

"You planted the bug?" Her boss, Douglas, looked at her, his eyes wide.

"Bugs," she gloated, holding up two fingers. "I've got ears in the bedroom and bathroom."

"I can't believe you actually did it," Douglas stood up from his chair, his face a mixture of pride and disbelief. "You're gonna break this story wide open." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "How did you manage to do that?"

"Don't worry about it," she smirked. "You just worry about my promotion after I get a direct quote from Kendall Roy for the cruises scandal."

Part 2

[foundtherightwords]

As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 20

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: some violence, arson

Chapter word count: 4.5k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Derwin knew he was not going to see Alba again. He had hoped that after she'd had some time to cool off, an apology from him might have convinced her of his true intentions. That hope was dashed when Beatriz said apologetically, "I'm sorry, but Alba can't come to the phone right now." Can't, or won't? In the background, Mr. Reyes shouted something in Spanish, Derwin didn't know what, but he caught the word bastardo clearly enough, and then the line was cut off with a deafening ding.

That was it, then. Alba must have told her father about Derwin's cancellation of the debt, and her whole family hated him now. How could he have been so stupid? How could he fix this, when she wouldn't even talk to him? His only hope was that Alba would realize she'd taken the manuscript of his poems by mistake and come back to return it to him. But what if she didn't come personally? What if she asked Frank or Beatriz to do it? At least he would have someone to relay his message then. He would sit on the front porch and wait if necessary, to make sure whoever showed up didn't just toss the manuscript and leave.

Derwin reached for his cane. Before he could get it, however, Otto suddenly jumped up and ran to the front door like an arrow. Derwin's heart raced. Could it be...? But no, Otto was barking his furious, warning yaps, not the excited yelps he only reserved for Alba. Derwin limped after the dog as fast as he could.

At the front hall, he got a glimpse of the driveway, and his heart stopped racing. It almost stopped altogether.

Several cars were coming into the drive, led by a cherry-red sports car, the kind that some GIs with money to spare had taken to bring back from Europe. The cars were full of shouting people, and they weren't happy shouts, not like the day Alba and her friends came to pick him up for the beach. These people were angry.

Most of them were men. Derwin thought he could spy Mrs. McLeish's battle-axe face amongst them, but most were men. Angry, violent men. Sitting in the red car was a man he recognized from the dance—Gastin Grant. And next to Grant was Mr. Reyes, his face thunderous.

Otto was still growling and clawing at the front door, trying to get out. Good old Otto. He would be no match for such a mob. Taking his collar, Derwin dragged Otto back into the study, ignoring the pain in his leg and the dog's whining protests. "Stay," he told the dog and locked the door for good measure. Derwin thought about locking himself in as well, but surely that would only provoke this crowd.

With a little tremble in his hand, Derwin opened the front door. The people were still shouting, mostly at each other, but as Derwin walked out, they fell silent and turned to him as one. He faltered at the hostile look in their eyes. This was no ordinary crowd. They were a mob. All they were missing were the torches and pitchforks.

"Can I help you?" he said. His voice was steadier than he'd expected.

"Yeah, you can help us," Grant said, stepping forward. The ringleader. Derwin noted, with satisfaction, that Grant's eye was still badly bruised, making him look like half a raccoon. "You can help us by clearing off, you dirty spy."

Derwin stared at the bigger man, perplexed. "A spy? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this." Grant held a manuscript up.

"My Robert Frost translation?" Derwin asked, even as his heart sank. How did Grant get his paws on it? Did Alba give it to him? Where was Alba anyway? Mr. Reyes was still watching Derwin from the back of the crowd, but his grim look was quite different from the fire of hatred on the others' faces.

"Yes, a German translation. What would be the purpose of that, I wonder?"

Derwin was beginning to understand the situation. This fool had gotten a hold of the manuscript somehow and was using it to convince the people of Cypress Grove that he was a spy, just because he could speak German. He would've laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, but he'd seen how dangerous ignorance could be. "German people read poetry too, Mr. Grant," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "even if you don't."

Grant sneered at Derwin's slight jab. "Tell me, how long have you been in correspondence with this so-called Professor Bauer?"

"He's a real professor. You can call up the University of Florida to find out."

"Enough of this!" a man shouted. From his battle-axe profile and the way he stood close to her, Derwin would bet that he was Mrs. McLeish's son, Ted. "Let's call the police and let them handle it!"

"The police?" Mrs. McLeish chimed in. "I'd say we call the Feds!"

"I didn't know it was a crime to speak and read German," said Derwin, mildly.

"This is America!" shouted Mrs. McLeish. "If you want to speak German, go back to Germany!"

Derwin flinched. He almost wanted to tell them to call the police anyway, who would surely see how flimsy this accusation was. Grant must have realized that too, because he shouted over the others, "People! People! Surely we can handle this ourselves! Let's find more concrete proof before we hand him over to the authority!"

This was met with several enthusiastic cries of "Yes!" and "That's the ticket!" In the back, only Mr. Reyes looked uncertain.

"Let's toss this whole place inside out!" screamed Ted McLeish.

"You can't do that," Derwin said. "Call the police and let them search the house if necessary, but you can't enter."

"We'll see which side the police will be on once we find proof, Kraut," Grant said.

Others were chiming in as well. "What about that dog of his? I heard it almost killed the postman once!"

"I heard there are snakes in there too."

"What an ugly pile of bricks. It brings down the value of the whole neighborhood."

For a moment, Derwin closed his eyes, willing for everything and everyone to go away, but when he opened his eyes again, they were still there. This was worse than his worst nightmare. He'd rather be back in that burning C-47 than stay here and face this crowd. At least in Normandy, he'd known what he would find and what he had to do. These people hated him for no reason. How could one fight such an enemy? He tried to back away, slowly, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hold the door if they decided to storm the house. From the inside, he could hear Otto barking frantically. His only concern now was that they would hurt Otto. He no longer cared about himself.

Ted McLeish jumped up the steps leading to the front porch and pushed Derwin aside. The cane clattered out of Derwin's hand, and he stumbled to the floor, more shocked than hurt. Behind Ted, the crowd was surging forward like a wave, threatening to sweep Derwin away. Unable to get up, he could only curl into a ball and screw his eyes shut, trying to protect his head from their rushing feet.

"Stop!" a new voice called out. "Stop this, all of you!"

The feet paused. The floor shook as someone leaped onto the porch and crouched down by Derwin. The scent of frangipani hit him. Alba.

He opened his eyes and saw those familiar green eyes looking into his, and the crowd, the noise, and his fear instantly vanished, to be replaced by a sense of calm he always felt in her presence. Alba was here. She cared. And that was enough. Now he could face the entire Wehrmacht if he had to.

"You OK?" she asked. He nodded. She helped him to his feet. That was when he noticed she was splattered with mud from head to toe, and there were twigs and dry leaves in her hair, as if she'd just taken a tumble through the bushes. But there was no time to ask what had happened. At the back of the driveway, he saw Beatriz, Frank, Marty, and Claudia getting out of their car, and his heart swelled. It wasn't just Alba who cared.

Grant looked at the newcomers with narrowing eyes but remained where he was, by the bottom step, watching, waiting to see which way the tides would turn. The crowd shuffled their feet at the door, unsure of what to do.

"Don't do this, please," Alba said to them. "You could get into trouble for this. Derwin has done nothing wrong. Grant is just trying to rile you all up so he can—"

"Don't listen to her!" Grant shouted, taking a step forward. "I found this manuscript in her possession! She's probably helping him!"

Alba was unfazed. "He's lying," she said calmly. "He's lying to all of you, to all of us." Holding onto Derwin with one hand, she took something out of her pocket and handed it to Ted, who was at the front of the crowd. "You recognize this, right?" she asked Ted. It looked like some sort of flyer.

Ted glanced at the flyer and shrugged. "Yeah, it's the poster advertising the new Cypress Grove highrise. So?"

"Notice anything about that map of Cypress Grove?" Alba said. Ted peered at the flyer again, his brow furrowed in concentration. The entire crowd seemed to be craning their necks to look at the flyer as well.

When Ted shook his head in defeat, Alba said, "Grant has told us there will be a new airport built nearby, and the highway will be extended through here. That's why we should all sell up and move away, instead of waiting to be forced out by the government, isn't that right?" Murmurs of agreement went all around. Grant started to shift his weight, eyes darting about, searching for an exit. "Look at the map again, Ted," prompted Alba. "There is no sign of an airport or a highway, is there?"

The murmurs rose in volume, like an angry beehive. Grant was looking quite uncomfortable now. Ted examined the flyer, and his eyebrows went up. "No, there's not!" he announced, and the crowd turned toward Grant, just as they had turned toward Derwin, in the opposite direction, a few minutes ago.

"See, there never is any plan for an airport or a highway extension through here," Alba said. "Grant made it up to convince us to sell to him for cheap. Just as he made up all the rumors about Derwin here to drive him off his land, all because Derwin refused to sell it." Her voice rang out clear as a bell, and Derwin had never felt prouder or more loved than he did at that moment, watching her stand up to an angry mob to defend him.

Grant rose to his full height. "This is ridiculous," he said with his usual swagger, but it seemed distinctly forced. "It's just a poster. It doesn't prove anything."

"You're right," said Alba. Since he was still on the steps and she was on the porch, she was taller than him, and she looked down at him in utter contempt. "It's not concrete proof. So why not bring this to the Department of City Planning and ask them to verify if such a plan exists?"

The crowd looked back at Grant expectantly. He went pale. "R-right," he stammered. "I'll be back after Christmas with proof. But if you think Grant's Land is still going to buy from you now, you can think again. You'll get turned out on the streets, all of you!"

He turned, stormed toward his car with as much bluster as he could manage, got in, and roared away.

That left the crowd to stand dumbfounded on the front porch. Alba turned to Derwin with a reassuring smile. "He won't be back," she said. "I'm sure of it." Derwin couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply squeezed her hand and kissed it, mud and all.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" boomed Mr. Reyes' voice. "Show's over. Go home."

Still sheepishly avoiding each other's eyes, the crowd started to disperse. Just then, a small, rotund man, whom Derwin was sure had been amongst Grant's cronies at the dance, came around the corner of the house. "Hey Grant, I just did what you told me to—" He trailed off, looking at the scattering crowd in confusion. "What's going on? Where's Grant?"

"He's run off," said Ted sullenly. "He's left you here, Bozo."

Bozo stared, his confusion turning into panic, and eventually fear. Without another word, he turned and fled.

"What was that all about?" Ted asked, watching the round little figure disappear down the drive.

Before anyone could answer him, a terrible howl came from inside the house. Otto! Derwin swung around, but Alba held him back.

"Derwin, wait!" she said, and the panic in her voice was enough to make him stop. "Look!"

There was smoke coming from behind the house.

Down on the drive, people paused and sniffed the air, which was already filled with an acrid smell. Alarm spread across their faces.

Otto howled again, and Derwin shook Alba's hand off.

"You can't!" she screamed. "There's a fire!"

"I locked Otto in the study! I have to let him out!"

"Give me the key, I'll go," Alba said.

Without another word, Derwin yanked open the front door and burst into the hall. Alba followed closely behind him. "What are you doing?" he shouted. "Get out!"

She didn't answer, only raced ahead.

A thin veil of smoke hung in the air like the mist of early winter mornings, except it was not wet and cool like the mist, but hot and stinging. Ducking low, Derwin made his way down the corridor toward the study, where Otto was still barking and scraping frantically at the door. The smoke thickened with their every step, forcing him to stop every so often to cough.

Alba was already at the door to the study. The barking and scraping intensified. "Hold on, Otto!" Alba said, fumbling with the door handle. Derwin tossed her the key.

The moment they got the door open, Otto jumped at them, almost bowling him over. "Get out, you fool!" Derwin screamed at the dog. "Get away!" But the dog clung to them, finding safety and comfort with his people in the unfamiliarity of the smoke-filled space. Alba had to grab his collar and drag him to the front.

"We've got him, let's go!" she said to Derwin.

Ignoring her, Derwin limped toward the kitchen, where the smoke was still billowing out. He had to put out the fire. His house, his home, all the memories inside it, he couldn't let it be destroyed.

The closer he got to the kitchen, the thicker the smoke got. It felt like walking through darkness, a choking, swirling darkness, but he could hear the hiss and crackle of flames. Holding the tail of his shirt over his nose, he blinked and squinted through the smoke, and saw thin lines of flame spreading across the kitchen floor. Someone had smashed the kerosene lamp, poured the fuel across the whole room, and set a match to it, and now the fire was licking up the pine floor like it was dry kindling, creeping toward the walls, toward him. The heat and the sickening smell of the burning fuel reached his face, and in an instant, reality went out of him.

In line! In line!

We jump on green!

GO! GO! GO!

He froze in the middle of that darkened, burning space, not knowing where he was. The red light was flashing before his eyes, blinding him. The smoke was in his nose and his lungs, choking him. The heat was on his skin, burning him. The crackling of the fire became the whine of failing engines, the distant explosion of crashing planes, and the shouts of men, except he was alone. There was no Jumpmaster Rensin shouting encouragement, no Ford pushing him out of the plane. They were dead, they were all dead, and he was all alone—

"Derwin!" someone shouted in his ear, and he turned, expecting to see Ford, or even Gurkin, but no, they were dead, all dead... "Derwin! Get out of here!" His eyes were watering from the smoke and he couldn't see who it was. A hand seized his, a small hand, soft but strong, and its touch brought reality back. It was Alba. He couldn't see her, but he knew she was there, knew it with his entire body, heart, and soul.

She tugged at his hand. "Come on. The fire engine is coming! We gotta get out of here!"

Holding on to each other, they stumbled through the swirling smoke, through the flames that writhed and leaped at them like fiery serpents. Somewhere in the chaos, Derwin lost his cane, and Alba let him lean on her. "We're going through the sunroom, it's quicker," he heard her say. The sunroom. Right. It was only a few steps from the kitchen to the sunroom. He could do it. He tried to suck in a deep breath, but only got a lungful of smoke and fire. His shoulder smashed into a hard corner, which sent him reeling back, and his hand fell out of Alba's. He was lost again, and there was nothing in front of him to tell him where he was or where he was going, nothing but a wall of smoke and fire. Then he thought the flames were going down, because they seemed to have lost their brightness. But no, it wasn't the flames. It was his eyes. Darkness was creeping in at the edge of his vision, until he could no longer see, no longer breathe. He slipped into a whirlwind of smoke and darkness, and the last thing he was aware of was Alba's frantic voice, calling out for him.

***

Someone was speaking, but he couldn't understand what they were saying, and for a moment, Derwin thought he was back in France. He was feeling the same way he had in France—groggy, face and hands smarting from burns, lungs scorched. Only the pain in his leg was the old, familiar ache, not the fresh agony of a new wound, and that was how he knew. He opened his eyes, and instead of the rough wooden beams of a barn converted into a makeshift field hospital in Normandy, he saw a clean white ceiling above him, clean white sheets covering him, and clean white walls around him. Memories trickled back—Alba saving him from the mob, Alba leading him out of the fire, Alba, only Alba.

He stirred, hoping to see her close by. His wandering eyes landed on a person sitting next to his bed—Mr. Reyes. Derwin lifted a hand, which seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and removed his oxygen mask. "Alba—OK?" he croaked.

"She's fine," Mr. Reyes said. "She hasn't left your side since last night. She only agreed to get some rest when I told her I'd take over. How about you, mijo? How are you feeling?" Mr. Reyes' voice was gentle, though his eyes remained stern. Derwin's heart sank. Alba may have forgiven him, but what about her father?

He tried to answer Mr. Reyes' question, only his throat was still parched, and his voice came out as a hoarse, inaudible whisper. Mr. Reyes poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table and helped Derwin drink from the straw. "Thank you," Derwin said, lying back. "I've been through worse."

Mr. Reyes studied him for a moment. His eyes were dark brown, but the scrutinizing expression in them was so similar to Alba's that Derwin couldn't help smiling a little.

"You love Alba?" Mr. Reyes said.

The question took Derwin by surprise, but he answered as quickly as he could, "Yes, sir."

"She loves you?"

"... I hope she does."

"She told me you asked her to marry you." It wasn't a question.

"I did."

"Were you serious about that?"

"I was. I still am. But she turned me down."

There was a twinkle in the old man's eyes as he looked at Derwin. "I think she may have changed her mind."

Wild hope surged through Derwin, and he tried to sit up. "Sir?"

"Lie down, mijo, lie down. Don't get yourself worked up, it's not good for you. Now, my Alba is very independent, as you perhaps already know. She doesn't need anyone taking care of her."

"She's been taking care of me," Derwin said, smiling wryly.

"Quite true, quite true. She's been taking care of all of us. I should've seen it sooner..." For a moment, Mr. Reyes looked away, as if in shame. "Anyway, I'm her father, so I gotta ask. Can you take care of her?"

Derwin looked at Mr. Reyes. The old man looked back evenly.

"I don't know, sir," replied Derwin, after a moment's reflection. "Physically, I may not be strong enough." He remembered how he'd had to lean on Alba through the fire, how she was always there to catch him whenever he stumbled. "But I do know this. I love her and I'll be there for her whenever she needs me. It's the best I can give her. It may not be good enough for you, but with all due respect, sir, it's up to her, not you."

Mr. Reyes pondered this for a while. Derwin had the feeling he'd been put to the test, and by being honest without bowing down to the old man, he'd passed. Eventually, Mr. Reyes said, "I was wrong about you before, mijo. I thought your intentions weren't—honest. I apologize." Derwin frowned, but before he could ask for clarification, Mr. Reyes had extended a hand. "That's good enough for me. You're good enough."

Derwin took that callused palm in his own, hope filling him up until his heart swelled. "Thank you, Mr. Reyes."

"Mauricio, mijo. Call me Mauricio."

Derwin smiled. "... OK, Mauricio. Thank you."

"I'll let you two work things out between yourselves. Now rest."

Mr. Reyes got to his feet. "About the debt, I'm going to pay it off, every penny," he said. "I should have done that a long time ago. I'll add some interest too, though your father had been good enough not to charge us any. Consider it part of Alba's dowry." His eyes twinkled again. "If you can get her to agree to marry you, that is."

***

When Derwin opened his eyes again, it was dark. The person he longed to see the most was sitting by his side, regarding him with her green eyes full of love, and everything was right with the world.

"Hi," she said, smiling, and the sound of her voice was so sweet that he wanted to cry.

"Hi."

"I wanted to bring Otto in to see you, but they won't let me."

"Where is he? Is he OK?"

"He's fine. He's staying with Claudia and Marty and Marty Jr., having the time of his life."

"And you?"

"I'm fine too."

He reached for her face, feeling the scratches there, remembering her disheveled state when she'd come to the house. "What happened here?"

"It's nothing. I had a run-in with Grant when he took the Robert Frost manuscript from me. He pushed me down a ditch."

"What?!" Derwin didn't think he could be angrier with Grant, but it was clear that he could. "I'll kill him!"

Alba gently pushed him back down on the bed. "Sorry, but you won't have a chance," she said. "He's been arrested. Bozo gave him up pretty quickly, said it was all Grant's idea. The police are going to charge them with arson."

She went on to tell him that the house was saved, with only some damage to the kitchen, and the people who had come with Grant to harass Derwin were feeling so bad about it that they offered to fix it up and let Grant cover the cost. Derwin caressed her cheek, letting the sound of her voice wash over him.

"I thought I told you to stop fighting for me," he said.

"I like fighting for you." She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. "I love you."

His heart skipped a beat. "Say it again."

And she did, punctuating each sentence with a kiss on his forehead, his nose, and finally, his lips. "I love you"—kiss—"I love you"—kiss—"I love you"—kiss. "I got your other manuscript, by the way," she added.

Her Christmas present! He'd completely forgotten about that. "And what do you think?" he asked, though the half-shy, half-pleased look on her face had told him all he needed to know.

"It's all pearls before swine, I'm afraid," she said, with a grin to show that she was joking.

"I told you, you have more poetry in you than you realize." He took her other hand. "Listen, Alba, about the debt—I'm sorry. I should've discussed it with you first."

She shook her head slightly. "Don't worry about it. We'll figure something out."

"No, it's all right. Your dad has promised to pay it off."

"Did he now?"

She looked pleasantly surprised, and Derwin felt rather confused. "You didn't tell him about my offer to cancel it?"

"No."

Her answer only increased his confusion. "But I thought you did, and that's why he was angry with me."

Alba blushed. "No, that was—something else. Something silly. I'll tell you about it later."

A nurse poked her head into the room. "Just five more minutes, lovebirds," she said in a firm but good-natured voice. "You both need your rest."

As the nurse ducked out again, Alba reluctantly got up, though she still held on to Derwin's hand. "Before I go, I have something to ask you," she said, kneeling by the bed so their faces were parallel.

"What is it?"

"Will you marry me?"

Derwin's heart leaped and jumped and did a cartwheel. "What?" he asked dumbly.

"You heard me. Will you marry me, Derwin Frances Grunauer?"

"But I thought you didn't want to marry me."

"I said I didn't want to get married. I don't want to marry just anyone. I do want to marry you." Her voice took on an impatient note. "What more do you need to convince you? Look, I'm on my knees and everything. Will you?"

He didn't need convincing. He only needed time to gather himself, to accept the truth that she really, truly loved him and was proposing to him. It was rather out of the ordinary, but then again, Alba had always been extraordinary. "... Yes," eventually he said.

Her smile brightened until it seemed to Derwin that it was giving off a light of its own, a gentle light that promised hope and joy and new beginnings, just like the dawn that was her name. "Yes?"

"Yes."

Epilogue

It's a "Beauty and the Beast" retelling, so of course I had to have a mob scene, even though this one is not quite as violent as the original. Stay tuned for the epilogue!

Taglist: @kitkat80, @hahahafucku

[hurtcomfortficstilltheend]

Mateine is the new caffeine

Wednesday Addams x gn! argentinian! Reader

Summary: Wednesday tries mate for the first time, by the hand of her partner, Reader.

Warnings: None! Only fluff! There is no use of "(Y/N)".

If you are not argentinian or southamerican, I explain the whole "mate" thing at the end. You just need to know that it's a very popular (non alcoholic) social drink in some countries in Latin America.

(Also, you don't need to be latinamerican to read this ofc)

A/N: Very self indulgent as always ;D Soft!Wednesday ahead!

Word Count: 1178

Your eyes were locked to the screen of your tiny laptop, your fingertips tapping incessantly on the keyboard, and your headphones on tight, blasting Brahms' second symphony. You had left a super important essay for the last minute (you were upset but not surprised), and now you were fighting against the clock to finish it on time for the first lesson tomorrow morning. Or today. 

After a quick wrist watch check- 3:54. Great. For the first lesson today then.

Your hand reaches instinctively for your hot water flask and serves another mate. You reread the last paragraph written on the open docs while sipping the lukewarm beverage. You swallow the liquid with a slight wince and keep writing.

You had once been ashamed that it took this amount of different sourced input to get anything school related done, but after some time, you just accepted that mateine, loud instrumental music, and leg bouncing was your only way, and that was okay.

Once you reread the whole thing again (and whisper a prayer to any coherence-and-cohesion god out there), you adjust the format of the document and send it to print in the principal’s office. Very proud of yourself for actually finishing it on time, you pick up your mate set to remake, get up with a jump and turn around-

-to find Wednesday standing right behind you, staring at you like you owe her something. As expected, you let out a squeak and accidentally drop the mate on the wooden floor. You hold on to the thermos like a lifeline, fully opened eyes pointing to the floor and then up to your girlfriend again.

“Mierda. Carajo.” Wednesday just stands there unmoving, as you throw yourself to the floor to pick up the yerba mess. The plant stains very bad, very quickly, so you end up (once again) in a rush against time itself to get some wet tissue paper and scrub the floor before it is too late. 

Now, with the headphones resting uncomfortably on your neck and the floor as-clean-as-it's-gonna-get, you take a deep breath and stand in front of the waiting girl. “Hi” After a beat, you lean closer to her and plant a small kiss on her cheek for good measure.

She blinks once, and you understand that’s her way of greeting. “What is that?” With a subtle head movement she points to the mate set now resting undone on your desk. 

“That’s the mate set my dad brought me from Argentina for parents’ weekend. The super cool gift I told you about?” It doesn’t seem to ring a bell. “Come on, I’ll show you how to make the best mates ever”

“Do you even know what time it is?” She asks with a slightly arched eyebrow.

“I have no forking idea, now come on” You guide her to your bathroom, and your makeshift kitchen counter.

.

“You have to put cold water first, so the leaves don’t burn, and then pour the hot water on the little hole we made” You guide Wednesday through the steps until you are only left with the last one. 

“So, I’ll do this, so you don’t gross out too much” You take the first two sips through the straw and immediately spit it out in the sink. She makes no comment, and both of you head out to your bed. The sun is starting to come up.

You get comfortable on top of your quilt and so does Wednesday. You pour the first mate and drink it yourself as an act of mercy. “What brings you here, by the way?”

“I was planning on silently watching you sleep until you woke up, so then we could go to class together, but I see you haven’t slept at all” She says matter of factly. You hand her the mate, but she doesn’t take it, as if waiting for instructions.

“Just try it out, if you don’t like it, no worries. It tastes bitter and it might be too hot, so be careful” She goes to grab it with both hands and you giggle, rambling about an ongoing joke in your family, of newbies using the bombilla as a gearshift.

You get yourself into the rabbit hole that is explaining the social rules of mate in gatherings, and how some people from Argentina and Uruguay drink it as often as coffee, or even more. You fail to notice your girlfriend’s face starting to morph into a frown. When you look up you feel like you messed up big time. 

“Oh god, you hate it. Let me get you some water. Do you want toothpaste?, I have som-” as you’re standing up to get a glass, you are stopped by Wednesday softly grabbing your wrist. Her eyes glint with something as close to fascination as you’ve seen on her. 

“It’s… magnificent. There is not a trail of sweetness, I could even guarantee it’s as bitter as my dark and cold soul” You can’t stop the huge and shining smile that takes over your face.

“So you like it?!” You pour yourself a mate and drink it before leaving the set in your nightstand and jumping up from your bed. “I’m so excited! I haven’t asked principal weems if I can take it to class, but I bet she will have no problem! My mom used to tell me that a good mate is the best companion for studying, it’s been so long since I’ve shared mate with someone!” 

A small smile starts to creep its way onto Wednesday’s face when seeing you so excited about your culture. She turns to look at your direction, still sitting on the edge of your bed. “You are clearly sleep deprived, and I’m certain this drink is going to trigger an insomnia episode if you remain drinking it at such ungodly hours, but-” 

“You’re gonna be my mate buddy?!”

“It’s whatever.” You can almost see a blush covering her cheeks. Almost. “Now, breakfast starts in five minutes, so get ready if you wish to be there on time. And don’t think you’re about to get away with an all-nighter. After lunch you’re getting rest willingly, or I’ll make you”

You roll your eyes playfully and hand her the basket with the set inside. “So bossy..” You give her another peck on the cheek and change into your school uniform in a flash.

.

Bonus: 

Enid finds you and Wednesday sharing mates at the library a few days later, and after insisting that she’s gonna surely love it, she pulls such a grimace when the drink touches her tongue that you almost feel offended. 

You appear the next day with two different sets: one of mate, for you and your girlfriend; and one of tereré for Enid. Your friend likes the sweet and cold version so much better, and from then on asks you very often to prepare it for her.

You also show them and the gang the wonders of dulce de leche, Rogel cake, and every single argentinian tea time good you can get your hands on.

.

A/N: I totally devoured the series, and I'm obsessed, so expect more of Wednesday to come. Comments are greatly appreciated as always, I want to know what you think!

About the "Mate" depicted in this fic: It's a weird kind of infusion (here's a pic for reference)

that seems to be prepared backwards (you have a cup with the herb -yerba mate- to which you pour hot water, opposite from tea I guess), you have to sip through that metal straw -called bombilla- that has a filter, and it's usually drunk in groups or social events, or as a way to replace the caffeine that coffee may provide. It's highly energetic and bitter, although some people add sugar or sweeteners to taste.

The first mate is usually the most bitter one, cause it's filled with the dust of the yerba, so drinking the first mate yourself can sometimes be an act of heroism lol.

I also mentioned "Tereré", which is similar, but (where I live) only drunk in hot weather. It's prepared with cold juice instead of hot water and it's definitely less bitter.

Yerba mate also stains like a bitch, even linolium floors, so if you are to spill some, you have to clean it up quickly before it dries.

By the way, we use mate(s) as a countable AND uncountable noun, so don't come at me about grammar please hahdghfkv

I hope you liked this crash course of mates!

[peachshadows]

Yes! Thank you for letting me rant to you! I love drama 😂😂. Unfortunately for Azure when he tries to reinstate his title as empress wukong wont approve of it (why bother your just as good as an advisor as when you were my empress, you don’t need that title) not even the other nobles pushing themselves to be the new empress can catch Wukongs eyes.

They start turning to drastic measures pulling out archaic rules that the emperor has to take an empress, but a las Wukong is a stubborn monkey he didn’t get to be the emperor by following anyone’s rules. This new Wukong is vastly different from the one Azure admired so much, he’s harsher, crueler, and short tempered, (poor monkey is depressed) he lockes himself in his room (his room is still covered in macaques scent) and only comes out to due his Emperors duties.

I can imagine the plan doesn’t last too long, Chang’e would immediately be suspicious. If Macaque left he would have come home. She’d probably be the only one to speak out on how wrong that letter is, even the monkeys on FFM would be suspicious Macaque did mention his doubt in the celestial court life but he was willing to learn, it wasn’t that much different from Chang’es court. Chang’e or the monkeys send out spies, eventually Azure and Yelllowtusk slip up they speak out loudly in what they assume is a private hall about what to do to break thru Wukongs “heartbreak” and what to do about Macaque they can’t keep the scroll in the castle (Macaques magic is pulsing out for help, if anyone gets near they’ll know someone is sealed inside)

OOOOOO YES YESSSS I LOVE THAT!! MORE DRAMA

Chang'e would definitely inform Wukong how wrong the letter is especially considering Macaque never went back home to the moon so ofc this sets off major warning bells in Wukong's head so not only does Chang'e have spies but Wukong as well. So Azure, Yellow Tusk, and Peng are gonna slip one way or the other considering they have eyes constantly watching them (also cuz Wukong already has a hunch that they did something to his moonlight)

And Macaque is inside the scroll reliving his past life, the sweet childhood he had with Wukong in ffm and the burning of his home and people... Macaque just wants to go back home, to Wukong...he needs to escape.

[alitgblog]

volume XI thoughts

I did in fact have access to this on Tuesday and started to play but then got distracted and didn't finish until like 2am when I couldn't sleep anyway (this was a mistake I was so tired at work)

movie night!!! And fun movie night titles!! ofc MC doesn't get her own custom one bc everyone's got different names but my MC is named Maya and with how things have been going I'm pretending her movie title is Messy Messy Maya 🤭

Emel and Oakley both being unfaithful in casa but finding (forcing?) their way back to each other and forgiving each other feels very much like something in the show so I appreciate that storyline tbh

Felicity is too beautiful of a sprite to waste as a Casa girl that only shows up for movie night.

Sienna going "I don't care if it's egotistical, pick my movies" because no one else is gonna care to pick hers 😬😬 id feel bad for her if she wasn't so mean

Hari and Hazel are so cute together but it seems like it's gonna die out soon 🥲 Like I see why if Hazel is panicking and Hari isn't the most reassuring guy and also not completely over MC but aghhh he's gonna fumble Hazel to LIAM. Hazel, not LIAM plsss

Absolutely awful that Liam is so funny bc he's such a piece of shit (awful in the best way, like he's so Messy Mitch from LI UK s10 coded and while I don't like him I appreciate the fun he brings). Saw someone suggest that he could be a late game LI and if he evolves and changes, sure, but a lot is gonna need to happen, otherwise give him a last minute jokey option like Hamish.

I think the thing stopping me from going full in on this Claudia route is she keeps going back to Theo, and not like she has to be pursuing MC 100% for me to pick her but I'm just getting mixed signals with her trying to save her relationship with Theo when they clearly aren't into each other anymore but there are plenty other people around.

Not on a Theo route and haven't talked to him but ngl his little video clip was cute like I almost jumped ship to be messy but nahh. I wonder how that's like if you're actually pursuing him though like does it feel like pay off or shock or reassurance or anything.

very nice they had Jin spell it out to Sienna in front of everyone. like kind of mean, but if it was gonna happen at any time, Movie night is definitely the time to do it.

Like even MC's movie clip playing, first of all was just if she slept with someone in casa I think (which, it's fair enough considering the game's limitations but I was missing all the other times she hoed around). So for my MC it was with Claudia, and Claudia barely has a response to it. And so I'm kinda just going towards the character actively pursuing and paying attention at this moment and it's Jin.

I guess MC was honest to Jin so he didn't mind the movie night thank God but also I want to replay to see the drama unfold. but in my head for some reason he'd be shocked it was Claudia bc she didn't say anything and like it'd be one thing if it was someone she just met like Max who she's been friendzoning ever since but another thing for it to be her best friend in the Villa. but alas, that is a large amount of branching and coding and dialogue to write so I'll let it slide.

a recoupling so soon after?? it's not like the season feels too rushed, but like I mentioned before, the pack in so many things in each volume you don't get much of a chance to chill out with the characters and pretend it's a vacation for your character lol

the problem with me playing early is I'm so curious how everyone else's game went. like is it only your OG LI or Casa Boy that can pick you?? And the chat you have with your partner after, does that lock your route because after this I feel there was a little bit less attention on MC from the other LI's (which I don't mind, so they can have their own stories now, but I wanna knowwww)

Shower scene, Sienna throwing another fit one last time for good measure

But now MC is back with Jin and they have all the cutesy interactions again yay

And then we have no rest in the morning, just straight into a DAYTIME heart rate challenge??? I just think this challenge should always happen at night idk

I forked over the gems for the cowgirl outfit (partly bc the mermaid dress was awful and bc my MC has red hair so I wasn't gonna make her dress like Ariel) but i wish there was a costume that was free instead of just your partywear dress? Like it can be a shitty costume but I understand people not wanting to pay gems for one outfit for one night of the game.

Hazel's outfit though 🥵

Such a minor detail, but I do love that despite her being so awful to MC, that Sienna canonically is a very conservative dresser. like we all see her churchy outfits. and I think maybe she's a little insecure about her body and stuff. that being said, the dialogue she has when she's in costume about feeling confident, and her costume isn't super revealing, and the girls being shocked at her dance, is all very good to have. like it's nice to have that type of character around and the fact that she's also the villain rn? she contains multitudes (or I'm reading into it too hard 😂)

mentioned briefly before but Hazel and Liam??? tf??

And now Claudia and Bea flirting with each other? Okayyy I mean my fingers are crossed so here's hoping they find each other if not MC. and they have a lot in common but feel like different characters so like pls let them be together (I say this as someone every few months posting about how it shouldve been Cora and Angie not friendzoned Oliver and Angie in the s4 finale)

ok but his entrance feels so overshadowed by other things going on though like I feel like he didn't get a chance to really bombshell to the point where I think he should've been introduced next volume instead. like have him have a normal bombshell entrance with dates or smth, then maybe when they're all chilling the next day and getting to know him someone brings up he missed heart rate challenge and they suggest he dances for the characters he's most interested in, if we really wanted to get his messy entrance in.

Two unfortunate things are true in my mind: Logan is very attractive (at least when he's got the hat on) and also he looks like Liam 🫣

depending on how this goes my MC may be hoeing around one last time

cliffhanger being the challenge results is lame

am i,,,, actually excited to replay this season 🫣

[larsnicklas]

Hello! I'm sort of new to hockey but not to team sports, and I wanted your opinion on panthers fans being annoyed at all the movements that are happening with FA. For example I've seen a lot of bother with Tarasenko leaving, but as helpful as he was to them during the playoffs what Detroit is giving him is way more than I would pay him if I was Zito too! And Zito has managed to keep a young core team with very talented players, and hopefully he will extend both Carter and Benny. Of course, it's sad seeing players go, and I don't necessarily agree with everything like 2M for Stenlund seemed doable, but Zito in particular seems to be very good at his job and he hasn't taken decisions that would make me untrustworthy of that. My other-sport team won everything possible and then instead of doing something like this they kept basically the whole winning team and it was wonderful but it has taken them over 10 years to recover from that. So I think you need to balance the fact that not every player was meant to stay and not every player can stay if you want to keep going ahead and not just like be happy with one Stanley Cup and start losing your stars to better offers.

Sorry about the super long message! Feel free to ignore, I just wanted to put it into words 💙

hiii! it is actually so funny bc you and the last anon talking about this sent in these asks like. minutes apart. kindred spirits LOL.

i think it's totally valid for cats fans to be upset and i get it like honestly stenny going was a shotgun to the chest... 23-24 cats penalty killers you will ALWAYS live in my heart.... but i think you have exactly the right of it! in the cats' case specifically, z.ito has done a very good job of securing his big boys to team-friendly contracts. it helps that there's an internal cap structure as well — nobody is going to sign for more than sasha at this particular juncture, and he is at a VERY manageable 10 mil aav. still, to lock up your top three forwards and your top defenseman, you have to be careful about the money you fling around for the depth guys. they could have technically afforded stenny, maybe, but probably not in a way that wouldn't push out multiple guys or force z.ito's hand on spencer k.night. and they certainly could not afford t.arasenko but it would be extremely funny to snag him back at the trade deadline for half salary retained etc.

i think the other thing too is that z.ito is not thinking just ahead to this coming year, but the one after that, where things can get a little hairy with 14 million still wrapped up in your goalies and ek, benny, swaggy all needing new contracts. but yeah, z.ito has earned a measure of trust from the fanbase, and he clearly has his sights on another run at the cup with this core. and just like you said, for continued success you absolutely do have to come to terms with the fact that not every guy can stay even if it stings to lose them!

and ofc no worries on the long message i love hearing people's thoughts on all the offseason movement!! :>

[causenessus]

HI NESS!! its like 3 pm rn so good afternoon 😋 i hope you're having/had(? idk when ur school day ends so like..) a good school dayyayay :)) HOPEFULLY YOUVE BEEN DRINKING WATER and ofc eating enough + taking ur meds 🙂‍↕️

when u mentioned some npc named cream cheese i started laughing like an idiot omg 💔 like picture me sitting in the living room next to my roommate bc we're watching a tv show and then i look down at my phone and start giggling out of nowhere.. cream cheese sounded like a real opp 😕🙏 i was the same but with mariokart bc rose gold peach was always hitting me w red shells fr LIKE I CRIED OVER THAT A LOT ACTUALLY (i was 7). and omg mario party!! i still play that whenever i have game nights bc i was able to buy a nintendo switch HAHAHAH and dude just dance hyperfixation goes crazy bc i got insanely good at rasputin solely because i thought i looked cool (i did not.) 😞

ALSO THE VOLLEYBALL GIRLS BEING MEAN IS SO REAL OMG.. lots of the vb girls at my middle school didn't like me for no reason it was crazy actually and that was partially why i didnt start until now LMAO theyre scary af sometimes akwkwnssj

IM GOING BACK TO SCHOOL TOMORROW and me and my friends were trying to figure out where to meet and its now coming to me that i have nothing planned whatsoever 😋 LIKE I DIDNT EVEN PLAN WHEN TO WAKE UP AND I ONLY REALIZED NOW PLS so today i have to lock in and plan an outfit hairstyle and lunch for tomorrow morning and uhhhhhh i wanted to write and post an akaashi oneshot before i went back to school bc i would probably lose the time to write frequently so... how do u balance out your time omg (DONT ACTUALLY ANSWER THIS ITS OK ITS RHETORICAL IM JUST YAPPING)

also i had no idea but like theres a district rule here that phones CANNOT be used at all in the school day unless u were explicitly allowed to.. like ive been getting intro emails from my teachers and their talking about A CELL PHONE VAULT⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ guys i just want my phone so that i can listen to music while i work on assignments please i swear im an ok kid 💔 i may just keep it in my backpack and always wear my hair down because im desperate.. i think i may have an aneurysm if i have to go the entirety of a day without music so desperate times call for desperate measures i suppose 😕

ANYWAY IM NOT GONNA REREAD THAT AND ATTEMPT TO CORRECT ANY ATROCIOUS LOOKING RUN ON SENTENCES SO I HOPE YOU CAN UNDERSTAND ME,, HOPEFULLY YOURE DOING WELL AND ARE HAVING A GOOD DAY!!

HELLO SAV!!! GOOD EVENING <3 (it's 10 pm rn oopsies) THANK U!! AND I HOPE YOU HAD A GOOD DAY <3 today was okay besides the embarrassment of hearing my own playlist being played in public...yk what i'm referring to..BUT also aa yes i will take my meds thank you for the reminder!! since 10 is when i'm supposed to take them 😭 i'll take them next time i get up!! bc i'm kind of comfy rn </3

PLEASE i never actually played mario kart </33 like then the switch came out and my friend had it and i played at her house but then she'd always get mad bc i'd beat her LMAO so i've actually never owned mario kart!! like i ended up get a hand me down switch from my sister's bf's sister who didn't want it anymore but it dies like within an hour of being used so i never play it </33 and DW i didn't look cool dancing to promiscuous even if i got 5 stars on it LMAOAO

but YES idk i think middle school volleyball is definitely the worst bc that's when the toxicity started for my friend in volleyball and i think it makes sense just because of what our minds are like at the state (trying to find ur place and form groups and everything yk </3 not to be a psych nerd or anything but ykwim </3)

AND AA BEST OF LUCK TOMORROW AT SCHOOL!! I'LL PROBABLY MESSAGE U AT MIDNIGHT TO WISH U LUCK AGAIN <3 I HOPE YOU GOT YOUR OUTFIT AND EVERYTHING PLANNED OUT!! i've also been just taking it day by day 😭 like my schedule depends on the day yk so like i've just been setting alarms the night before everytime my schedule changes (IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BUT I GET U SAV I GET U) and aa!! i know your question was rhetorical but definitely don't stress about too much please <3 take your time and just do what you can manage!!

AND THAT'S CRAZY?? A PHONE VAULT??? MAN YOUR SCHOOL IS HARDCORE I'M SO SORRY 😭😭 i definitely just keep my hair down and use earbuds most of the time bc i CANNOT go without music and like it's fine!!! i have great grades tbh so no one has anything on me 😌 i remember one time i had this math final and we had to put our phones in like a shoe hanger everyday (idk what it's called) but thank goodness wireless headphones exist!! so like my phone would still be connected to my earbuds <3 and my teacher made me lift up a beanie i was wearing to cover my ears LMAO AND I HAD AN EARBUD IN BUT SHE DIDN'T SEE IT BC THEY'RE BLACK like i am not rich enough to afford airpods and i don't want them anyway 😭 they look uncomfortable and ugly and they draw so much attention bc they're bright!! offbrand earbuds all the way <3

YOU ARE BETTER THAN I AM FOR PROOFREADING YOUR MESSAGE 😭😭 I'M GOING TO SEND THIS AS IT IS AND I'M SORRY FOR ANY RUN ON SENTENCES!! I HOPE YOU HAD A LOVELY DAY SAV <33

[aita-blorbos]

(oc thing)

AITA for abandoning my world for 103 years?

Ok I know this sounds bad but let me explain.

I (NB, don't really have an age) am the creator of two worlds but only one is important to this story. The one that isn't relevant is more like a world-sized computer, but the relevant one is just your average world with life and stuff, and was the first one I made.

Before you mention it, I know there are guides and templates for life created by the God community. I know the best way to make stable life is to put a simple organism on the world and let it evolve to fit the environment. I know. Believe me, I know. But I certainly didn't know or care back when I made this world because I wanted to make everything from scratch. That was foolish of me. I know. I should have at least read a guide or something.

All this to say I made a bit of a mistake with my initial thought algorithm. Because thoughts work quite fast and I wanted to see everything so I could troubleshoot, I introduced an intentional "throttle" into the algorithm; it would wait for me to acknowledge the thought before it progressed. It's all fun and games until you forget to remove that throttle and create countless creatures all using that flawed algorithm. Yeah.

I didn't want to wipe everything out and start over because that seemed needlessly cruel. Applying patches to anything, especially something like brains, live is a difficult and risky process for the person with the brain. So I just kinda set up a "server room" of power that would just auto-acknowledge anything coming through. That was a temporary solution.

I spent a good couple centuries working out a method to patch the throttle out of my beings. The expansion of life was beginning to overwhelm my temporary measure. I was tired. So tired. I finished it and found blissful silence awaiting me. Wonderful.

In fact I was so tired I wanted to take a bit of a break. I'd also use the time I would be out to test and workshop a self-sufficient, hands-free (for me at least) way to keep my world safe from any existential threats. They're not common, but it's always a good thing to look out for.

So I decided that I would randomly give out my power to people, disappear completely (except for a couple recording devices that were hidden ofc), and come back in a year and see how things went. Then I'd adjust things accordingly. Simple right? What could possibly go wrong?

I think you probably get what happened, but I'll explain it anyways. I essentially had NO IDEA the flow of time was usually different between universes. I didn't know I was supposed to chrono-lock my universe and the universe I was in together to preserve the flow of time between them. And I just so happened to take my year-long vacation to a universe that was REALLY slow compared to mine.

So I come back, 103 years later. There was a war, and this lady somehow consolidated everyone's power and is now acting as the goddess of my world (which I'm honestly fine with, I was never one to take an active role in my world). There's a cult worshiping me, using the hijacked power of one of my observation devices to shield themselves from the lady who made herself the goddess and doing terrible things in my name. Things kinda sucked.

And I'm sort of thinking things would be a lot better if I didn't accidentally spend 103 years of my world's time on vacation. So, AITA?

[moontheoretist]

What if your companion just left you?

Bioware really did like toxicity in 2011 and in later years, don’t you think? Dragon Age 2 is the first game in Dragon Age series that doesn’t tie up your general bad behavior to your companions’ ability to leave the party. If you feed their rivalry and have it high enough or maxed, they will not leave. Companions only leave in very specific or quest related circumstances if not maxed, like for example:

Fenris leaves if you put off his personal quest in Act 2 for too long and tell him to screw off. And in Act 3 you can give him up to Danarius and companions that are with you won’t even protest, won’t fight you, won’t leave you in protest to what you did. Fenris will also leave if you sided with Orsino unless you maxed his friendship or rivalry. He can be persuaded to come back later on, but if you fail, you have to fight him afterwards.

Isabela can leave in Act 2 if your Rivalry or Friendship aren’t high enough. If you have high enough points on either end, she will come back, and you can still give her to Arishok.

Mage companions will leave you if you sided with Templars at the end of the game, unless you had maxed their rivalry or friendship.

If you don’t kill Anders while having the DLC with Sebastian, Sebastian will leave. But it is also at the end of the game.

Anders can leave after dissent if you agree that he should (so he needs your input and approval to do so, won’t do it on his own). He can also leave if you didn’t kill him and let him go, but sided with the Templars. If not maxed, you will have to kill him later on.

All of those technically use Friendship/Rivalry meter, but in the long run it is just the rule of “if you weren’t sufficiently good or awful to them, they will leave”, not the rule of “if you are awful they will leave”. They simply leave if you didn’t pay enough attention and gain enough points on either side, depending on the specific quests. It follows a rule of neglect in either friendship or rivalry. Which is a completely opposite of Origins where gaining -100 approval points with your companions literally meant they will leave you to fend for yourself and fight Archdemon alone as per the rule “you were an awful person that I won’t follow”. What’s more, DA2 keeps it so that if you lose companions, you will never lose all of them. You will still have one tank, one mage and Varric, who stays with you no matter what, at the end in order to be able to finish the game at all. In DAO however, you can end with one companion (Alistair) and fail to kill the Archdemon.

In comparison, the same year as DA2, Bioware released another game: Star Wars: The Old Republic, where in the first 3 chapters of the story you can have DS abusive and toxic romances with your companions. But those can’t leave you AT ALL. You can be an awful slaver that treats Vette poorly and still romance her. And even when you get separated from all of them, they all can still come back to you, they show willingness to come back in some cases, and you can decide if you want them back or not. You can push Jaesa all the way to the Dark Side, and she will come back later and if you don’t take her back, she will be locked out, but you can also kill her there.

You can ofc also have LS romances and ignore DS ones, but if you wanted to romance Jaesa specifically, it is impossible to do so in those first 3 acts if you didn’t play as a man and weren’t pushing her and yourself towards the Dark Side. She is the only companion locked out like this, as her LS romance was only added in 2021.

I can’t stress how much better it would be if in DA2 we got several different romance configurations depending on the amount of rivalry and friendship points we gathered, as well as a rewrite of the rivalry romances to be more like actual rivalry and less like thinly veiled abuse. Rivalry can be healthy. It doesn’t have to be toxic.

Anyway, in comparison to DAO and DA2, Dragon Age Inquisition goes in a complete different direction when it comes to measuring approval. The system technically still exists, but you as a player don’t see the bar, you don’t see your results, you don’t know how many points “approves” gives in comparison to “greatly approves”, so you can’t engineer your romance path in a way that you knew from the previous two games, but that change also kind of simulates dating behavior from real life. In real life, you also don’t know how much someone likes you, and you can only guess how much your date liked something. Still, I can observe a visible trend of “avoiding writing companions as people with principles” which was prevalent in DAO and gradually started to disappear till in DAI the only companions that can leave on their own if they hate you are Blackwall and Cole. Dorian threatens to leave, but still needs to be punched to actually leave, so he needs your direct input for him to do it. The rest won’t unless it was already pre-written (Solas) or were affected by a quest (IronBull can turn against you in DLC if you killed The Chargers). Sera can’t leave, you have to kick her out, which is very out of character for her as a Red Jenny to stick around if you were the most awful person in the world. Cass, Viv, Varric and Bull can hate you and still stay.

Some could say “they can’t leave, because Breach threatens everybody”, but that argument was also true for the Archdemon case. Blight threatened not only Ferelden, but every nation close enough. Having an option to fail was something interesting that taught you how to not play if you wished to finish the game.

The system used in DAO was so far the best. It encouraged you to be friendly with your companions and punished you for being a toxic, abusive asshole that doesn’t care about them. It literally told you that if you want to save the world you need help, because you are not a god, you are not an independent entity that can do everything on their own, that people around you are not only needed but enrich your experience and you as a person if you treat them right.

I wish that system was kept till the end, but it wasn’t.

[racingliners]

Life In The Fast Lane Chapter 9 - Tarmac and Diamonds

Rating: Teen & Up

Warnings: None apply

Pairings: Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s); OFCs & OMCs

Work Tags: Re-write of a previous work; Mentions of IRL current and past F1 figures; Eventual romance; friends to lovers; found family/work family; actual family; racing drivers and their various shenanigans; how to handle pressure (and how not to); with a sprinkling of the power of friendship; tags will be updated as work progresses

Chapter 9/57

Word count: 6.7k

Summary: Sophie finds herself in the French Riviera, as F1 lands in Monaco

Wednesday 24th May – Monaco

Monte Carlo. The so called playground of the rich and famous. With its glittering marina, luxurious hotels and casinos, it was nicknamed by many the jewel of the F1 calendar.

But to James, for the past seven years, it was home.

He turned the key to his apartment door with a firm twist, locking it tight, before securing the keys in his backpack and made for the nearest stairwell.

The race weekend schedule was always unique in Monaco. Custom meant that Friday was a rest day, so free practice one and two took place on Thursday, with Wednesday being the track walk and media day. Not that James was really looking forward to either, since he knew the circuit almost like the back of his hand. And it seemed that McLaren’s early upgrades had only bared fruit in Shanghai. When the rest of the teams had brought their upgrade packages to the previous race in Valencia, McLaren found themselves back where they were, languishing between the front runners and the midfield, in a lowly 8th and 9th place.

“Morning” James’ trainer Mike greeted him at the bottom of the stairwell, brown aviators over his eyes and his auburn hair looking freshly washed. As living space was at an extreme premium in Monaco they lived at opposite ends of the same apartment complex.

“You’re sure you want to walk in today?” James asked with a small frown as he led the way out onto the street.

“We’re going cycling on Friday, remember?”

“Right, Friday” James nodded, and took his own Ray Ban sunglasses from the front pocket of his team shirt and put them on as they walked out into the warm sunshine and began the fifteen minute walk down to the marina, where the team motorhomes had already rolled into town.

Another twist of the Monaco Grand Prix’s strange charm, was that the paddock was effectively split into two. The team motorhomes and engineering trucks were down by the marina, an almost ten minute walk away from the pitlane (which was even more unusual, as the team’s pitwalls were situated above the garages, as there simply wasn’t space for them in the pitlane).

James was long used to all of Monaco’s quirks, as long as he’d be able to drive the car on Sunday and hopefully score some points, he wasn’t really fussed at how jumbled the weekend was.

The walk to the paddock was quiet at least, one of the things James did like about living in Monaco was that there were no paparazzi anywhere to be found, as they were completely forbidden from the principality. (Exceptions were made during the Grand Prix weekend for the officially licenced photographers, of course). Occasionally a few other drivers or team members would walk or cycle past, but apart from that, James and Mike were free to talk amongst themselves the whole way.

“So,” Mike’s cheery voice cut through the warm air as he clapped a heavy hand on James’ shoulder, almost forcing him to turn his head to look at his trainer. “How are you feeling?”

“About what?” James asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Anything” Mike shrugged, still keeping a hand on his driver’s shoulder. “Thoughts for the weekend, the season so far, if there’s…” He paused to take in a small, sharp breath “…any problems with you and your team mate”

“I am not having any problems with Sophie…” James scoffed, and rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses for good measure. “And I’m fine mate, really”.

Mike hummed, but finally dropped his hand from James’ shoulder.

“Well, as your confidant slash personal trainer, I am allowed to worry about you. Especially after… you know”

After James and Petra had ended things for the second time right before Abu Dhabi last year.

Carrying on with their walk James took in a long, deep breath of now slightly salty air since they were almost at the marina, and let out an even longer exhale in the hope it would take as much of last year with it as possible.

Mechanical failures had been the main reason why neither he nor Nathan had been involved in the title fight last season. And McLaren had come through on their promise of fixing those gremlins over the winter break, though it seemed they had sacrificed a significant chunk of speed in the process.

Which meant that when the paddock entrance came into view, James rolled his shoulders back and had his best smile ready to go just in case (because some journalists really did take the look on a driver’s face alone as serious indication for what state their team was in).

As they approached the familiar turnstiles, James and Mike found themselves saying good morning to more and more paddock members. James even spotted Richard, who was stood a few metres away from the last turnstile on the left, talking with a shorter blonde woman who like almost everyone James had seen so far was wearing sunglasses over her eyes. She had a green paddock pass around her neck, and wore a peach coloured blouse with dark cotton slacks, with her curly blonde hair ever so slightly drifting in the breeze coming in from the harbour.

“Morning Rich” James smiled brightly at his colleague, who half waved back as the woman he was with checked her watch. There was something in the way her shoulders sunk with a sigh that looked somewhat familiar. So James looked at her again, and took in the gentle sweep of her nose, and somewhat sharp curve of her jawline, and the penny finally dropped in James’ head as he veered away from the turnstiles. “Good morning Mrs Knightsbridge”. His bright smile was completely genuine as he tentatively held out his right hand.

“Oh... Good morning” Her handshake was firm, but polite. “But please, call me Mary” Her accent was the same as her daughter’s. Very stereotypically English, but not posh. They even had the same hint of warmth in their voices. “It’s lovely to finally meet you James”

“Yes you too… No Sophie?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. Richard had seemingly been inseparable from his driver at every race so far this season. And from what James could gather about the Knightsbridge family, they didn’t seem like the kind that would travel to the circuit separately.

“Her and Vanessa decided to cycle in, so we walked down from the hotel. But the chain on Vanessa’s bike went so they’re running a little late” Mary explained.

“Ahh right” Mike, who had stayed a few steps behind James, quietly cleared his throat. “I uh… better head in, but don’t worry you’re in very safe hands” James gestured to Richard who gave a small smile in return as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “We’ll see you in the motorhome” James gave a slightly awkward wave as he made for the nearest turnstile, scanned his pass, and waited for Mike on the other side.

“I am allowed to be friendly you know” He scoffed at Mike once he was happy they were out of earshot. “Heaven forbid I try to make Sophie and her family feel welcome around here”. It was true that Formula 1 had changed a lot in the past decade, both in the way it presented itself to the world, and the people that helped make it. And while there were more women and people of colour employed by teams, the FIA, or even F1 itself, there were still some people from the old status quo that weren’t exactly happy to roll out the red carpet for Sophie in Australia. In their minds, no matter what Sophie did or would ever do would be enough to earn her place in F1.

And Mike had been James’ trainer for the past five years, he knew the paddock well enough by now.

“You were turning on the charm a little too much” Mike teased as they reached the last of the engineering trucks, and made a right for the tightly packed together team motorhomes.

“Oh piss off!” James scoffed. Mike just laughed as they made their way down towards the McLaren motorhome, which thankfully for James wasn’t that far away as he was becoming increasingly tempted to chuck his friend into the sea.

“I mean I know, it’s really difficult being a very handsome very charming bastard, but don’t whip out the megawatt smile before ten o’clock in the morning!” James rolled his eyes and didn’t take off his sunglasses until he was safely inside the McLaren motorhome, and tightly hit Mike on the shoulder.

“Oh come on what was that for?” He winced as they climbed the stairs to the first floor.

“Being an idiot!”

  “Maybe we should have just walked in like everyone else… uh good morning!” Sophie winced as she wheeled her bike past a small huddle of Mercedes engineers. One or two of them said hello to Sophie as she passed, and she rushed to return the gesture before they were out of earshot.

While it wasn’t Sophie’s first visit to Monaco, having raced in Formulas 2 and 3 the past few years, the scenery of the principality always seemed to take her by surprise. From the dramatic cliffs near the French border, to the yacht filled marina, and the ribbons of road and pastel coloured buildings that were crammed in-between. As pretty as it was, Sophie wondered how anyone in Monaco had room to breathe, let alone live.

While Richard was leading the way to wherever McLaren had managed to find space for the motorhome, Sophie and Vanessa were more concerned with trying not to hit anyone – or each other – with their bikes.

“Yeah, we’re definitely walking in Saturday and Sunday” Vanessa groaned as Richard made a sudden left, with Mary quickly looking behind her to make sure their little group hadn’t gotten separated.

“You okay Mum?” Sophie asked with a slightly restrained smile. Mary just nodded as she tried to keep everyone together.

“Almost there, I promise!” Richard cheerily called out amongst the maze of team personnel, journalists, and team engineering trucks.

After what felt like an eternity of walking through the very crowded marina, the first of the team motorhomes came into view. And Sophie couldn’t help but gawk at what was very clearly Red Bull’s and Alpha Tauri’s base for the race weekend.

The regular motorhome she had seen at testing and in Valencia had been replaced by a barge that featured a smaller version of the Red Bull and Alpha Tauri shared motorhome atop what looked like the team’s own private pool deck. And if that wasn’t enough, images of all four Red Bull drivers were printed on tarpaulin that was stretched around the base of the barge. It was certainly one way to make an impression.

McLaren by comparison, had a downsized version of their motorhome for the Monaco Grand Prix. It was two stories high instead of three, and was a more solid cuboid shape. The reflective windows had been swapped for tinted ones, but the monochromatic colour scheme with hints of papaya remained as Sophie, Vanessa, Richard and Mary finally walked up the small ramp that led to the main doors. And Sophie finally let out a long exhale once she was inside.

She would never admit it publicly, but she very much considered Monaco to be her bogey track. She had the grand total of one podium finish in her three attempts at the circuit, and that was only due to the on-track winner being disqualified. Monaco was always an intense race not because of any actual racing, but because driving around the narrow streets was like threading a needle in a hurricane. It didn’t take much for a driver to accidentally or otherwise end up in the barriers. And that was before Sophie had considered the fact she would be doing the full race distance of 78 laps, as opposed to the measly 42 laps in the previous year’s F2 sprint race, where she’d finished in fifth.

“Morning Sophie!” She almost jumped out her skin as she reached the top of the stairs and saw James by the door of his driver room. “Rough time getting in?” Her team mate asked with a tilt of the head, clearly noticing he’d startled her.

“Something like that” She sighed as Vanessa entered the code to unlock the door to Sophie’s room.

“Ah well, just the journalists to worry about now” James replied with a grin as he clapped Sophie on the shoulder, and the pair looked at each other for a few seconds longer than normal. “See you later”

“See you” Sophie flashed a small smile at James before lugging her bike down the small corridor and into her driver room, and propped it against the wall next to Vanessa’s.

“You good?”

“Nope” Sophie sighed almost immediately, and flopped down onto the small sofa that sat opposite the massage table, slightly resisting the urge to bury her head in her hands. “I’m just…”

“Terrified of putting your car in the barriers tomorrow” Vanessa finished Sophie’s sentence as she sat down next to her driver, and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. Sophie just hummed in reply and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. “You do know that if all you think about is not crashing then-”

“I’ll end up crashing anyway… I know” Sophie huffed as she looked over at the person who was her personal trainer, friend, and emotional support all in one. “Believe me, I’m trying to let it go I just… can’t” She buried her hands in her hair as she took in a long, deep breath, and slowly exhaled. “I’ll feel better after my track walk… probably” Sophie pulled her hair out of her low ponytail as she stood up, and re-tied to so it sat on the crown of her head. “And we should probably go before my Mum drags me downstairs… assuming she hasn’t texted you already”

Vanessa hummed as she stood up and quickly checked her phone with a relieved smile as Sophie opened the door.

“She hasn’t, but there’s still time” Vanessa chuckled as she followed Sophie out the door.

  Friday 26th May

“Mon Dieu Sophie, how long does it take you to grab things you’ve had organised since last night?” Nico scoffed as he looked at his watch with an overly dramatic sigh.

“Well I’m not even close to being late so ha!” Sophie screwed up her face at her friend as she handed him her garment bag without asking. “Hi Dana”

“Hi Sophie!” She beamed and eagerly embraced Sophie in a bone-crushing hug. Dana’s work as an architect and increasingly in interior design meant that she didn’t have as much time to attend races as other driver’s partners. They had last seen each other back in April, after Nico and Dana had taken Sophie out to dinner to celebrate her podium finish.

Dana and Nico had met in 2020, when the company she worked for had been invited to the Red Bull factory in Milton Keynes to do some renovation work, on the same day that Nico in his then-duties as Red Bull test driver had been at the factory for a run in the simulator. They had started dating not long after, which meant that she had also known Sophie ever since. “It is so good to see you!” Dana said with a bright smile, squeezing her hands on Sophie’s shoulders. “And we finally have someone sensible to talk to” Dana grinned with a wink for Nico’s benefit.

“It’s about time” Sophie chuckled before looking over at Nico. “We love you really”

“Oh yes, of course you do” He jokingly rolled his eyes before going to check his watch. “But we really are going to be late at this rate”

Dana led the way out of the hotel lobby as Nico returned Sophie’s garment bag, and the trio walked out into the late afternoon sunshine for their walk over to the Grimaldi Forum.

Over the years the powers that be on the commercial side of F1 had found ways to fill in the traditional rest day of the Grand Prix weekend. Sophie, like a handful of other drivers, had spent much of the morning doing a sponsor photoshoot, before being freed to train with Vanessa, have lunch with Nico, Dana and her Mum, before squeezing in a quick shower to get ready for her final engagement of the day – The Amber Lounge Fashion Show.

No one in the paddock could quite pinpoint the exact moment it became a traditional part of the race weekend, but as the fashion show and accompanying gala was for charity, no one really seemed to mind. Around a third of the drivers on the grid were in attendance each year, as they even had their own slot during the show. Which was why Nico and Sophie’s garment bags contained some of their more finer outfits.

“I’ll be in the crowd, and Nico will be with you the whole time” Dana said to Sophie with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She had already changed into her ankle length navy chiffon dress which paired beautifully with her deeply tanned skin, and her dark golden brown hair was curled and styled in a half-updo.

“It’s not the fashion show I’m worried about” Sophie sighed, half-lying. Her main concern was ensuring that her ankles would survive a night in heels incident free, because there wasn’t going to be anything more embarrassing than having to pull out of the race because of a shoe induced sprained ankle.

When Sophie spoke with a sadder sigh than she intended, Nico stopped in his tracks, screwed up his face, and let out a small sigh himself.

“Habibi what is it?” Dana asked, looking between her boyfriend and Sophie.

“The date” Nico frowned, before handing Dana his garment bag so he could hug Sophie round the shoulders. “I’m so sorry ma amie”. Sophie let herself rest her head on Nico’s chest as Dana eventually placed a hand on Sophie’s arm when she realised what Nico was referring to.

That had Sophie not broken up with Tom after telling his parents they’d gotten engaged, today would have been their eight year anniversary.

Not really a day she felt like getting dolled up to be presented to the masses. If the fashion show wasn’t for charity, she would have twisted Vanessa’s arm into helping her pull a sickie so she could hide in her hotel room instead.

Nico and Dana had been the second and third people after Vanessa to help take care of Sophie after the fallout of her very brief engagement. She could still remember that week in mid-December last year clear as day. Signing her McLaren contract on the Tuesday, Tom taking her out for dinner to their favourite restaurant in Northampton and proposing on the Wednesday night, telling Sophie’s family over the phone on the Thursday morning… and then Saturday happened.

Tom’s parents were on the above average side of wealthy, his mother was the head of an estate agent, and his father a property developer. They had never sent Tom to a private school despite being more than able to afford it, because they wanted him to be ‘normal’. So he ended up in the same year as Sophie when they started High School. He never laughed when Sophie told him she wanted to be a Formula 1 driver, and he even went two a couple of her karting races before they got together. He had finally asked her out when Sophie won her first single seater race.

Tom had decided that it would have been best to tell his parents face to face, so when he and Sophie arrived at the five-bedroom Berkley family home, he had hoped that his parents would be over the moon to see the gold set emerald cut Diamond on Sophie’s ring finger.

But instead his mother’s face went white with shock.

“What are you thinking? Throwing your career away to follow her here there and everywhere” Tom, like his younger sister Alice, hadn’t went into either family business, and instead worked in IT. Even while Sophie had been sat alone in the large living room, she had heard every word Tom’s mother had yelled at him from the next room. Maybe it had been intentional. “I don’t care how successful she might be…” Sophie’s breathing had become more and more ragged as she heard Tom’s mother suddenly say all manner of things about her. That she’d never approved of Sophie being a racing driver, that she’d assumed Sophie and Tom would fizzle out either due to the increased amount of travelling Sophie did, or that Tom would find someone more ‘suitable’, whatever that meant.

Sophie still remembered biting down on her bottom lip as tears began to fill her eyes, and her engagement ring started to feel heavier and heavier on her left hand. Seeing Tom’s sister walk in with two cups of tea had been the last straw, as Sophie pulled the ring off her finger and left it on the coffee table. She would never force Tom to choose between her and his family.

“I mean, what was I thinking, getting engaged at 23?!” Sophie shook her head as she sat down on the nearest bench, with Nico and Dana joining her on either side. She’d found herself thinking about the end of her relationship on the odd moment throughout the year. She had loved Tom, completely. But there were times that she wondered if she’d said yes to marrying him because it felt like ticking the next box after securing her F1 drive. They had never really, properly, discussed getting married before he got down on one knee.

“You’ll be okay Sophie” Nico said softly as he took his friend’s hand in his.

“I am okay I just…” The fact that the most she currently felt was a small ache in her chest, and that she had been able to think straight in first and second practice yesterday, was a testament to that. “I’m making peace with it all I guess”. As was starting to be the case with every time she thought about Tom, she felt more and more at ease with the fact she definitely didn’t want to get married anytime soon. “I want to move on. I don’t know if or when I want to start dating again, especially since all the people I see these days are from the paddock”

Nico and Dana both chuckled.

“I’m sure that one day, you are going to meet someone who just… makes you so happy you’ll want to dive right into the deep end. So long as he respects you for who you are of course” Nico smiled, briefly glancing over at Dana. “And if that’s something you really want, then it’ll be okay… even if they do end up being from the paddock” He added with a small smile, and squeezed Sophie’s hand before letting go. And after letting out one final exhale, Sophie and Dana got up from the bench, and the trio carried on their journey.

Once they arrived at the venue Nico and Sophie showed both their F1 accreditation passes and passports to one of the people on the reception desk, and once Dana had gotten her guest wristband, a member of staff led the two drivers to the backstage area.

Vanity mirrors and chairs took up an entire wall on the left, half of which were filled with models, make-up artists, hair stylists, and one or two drivers. The rest of the space was filled with temporary cubicles, rows upon rows of clothes rails, and small sofas and armchairs wherever there was room for them. To the right, a large black curtain separated the backstage area from what Sophie assumed was the catwalk.

“When I told my parents I wanted to be an F1 driver, I never imagined it would involve anything like this” Sophie gulped.

“Ah, I don’t think any of us did” Nico sighed as he clapped Sophie on the shoulder.

“You’re Sophie Knightsbridge, yes?” A brunette woman in her 40’s approached Sophie almost out of thin air, catching her by surprise. Sophie just nodded. “Ah, you’re right on time. Come with me” She spoke with a French accent and walked a few hurried steps away before turning around. “Are you another driver or her boyfriend?” She asked Nico, completely straight faced.

Nico tried and failed to suppress his laughter before replying. “Driver, I’m Nico Dumont from Alpha Tauri”.

“Ah, good” And the woman turned round again, marching towards a pair of free vanity tables, as Nico let out some more repressed giggles.

“Of course you’re already more famous than me Cherie” Nico shook his head and hung his garment bag off the back of the make-up chair he was directed to.

“My name’s Marie” The woman finally introduced herself, and gestured for Sophie to sit down. “I’ll be doing your hair and make-up for the show” She explained while trying to peer through the small plastic window on Sophie’s garment bag. “What style is your dress?”

“Rose pink satin, it’s strapless” Marie just hummed in reply while she examined Sophie’s hair and hands. She frowned at how short Sophie’s nails were. “I can’t wear false nails when I’m in the car” Sophie huffed somewhat defensively. She had always kept her nails short out of necessity for both practicality and comfort, filed down to just past the tips of her fingers.

“That’s okay, we wouldn’t have had the time to put them on anyway. Can we paint them at least?”

“Sure” Sophie nodded, and Marie sprinted off to get something, saying that someone would be along to work on Nico shortly. Sophie pulled her phone out of her pocket to quickly text Richard that she had made it to the event safe, sound, and crucially on time. He texted back, both wishing her luck and saying that James was meant to be arriving soon as well.

“Ohhhhh no way!” Nico exclaimed, looking at his own phone with a wide smile.

“What is it?” Sophie asked cautiously, putting her phone into her backpack before turning to look at her friend. Nico gleefully passed over his phone, which was opened on the memories page of his Facebook account, and Sophie audibly gasped at the picture.

“No, you’re kidding!” The picture was of Sophie and Nico, both aged 14, stood on the podium with another driver (Nico had won, with Sophie in second) at the first international karting race they had both competed in together. Incidentally, they had only met each other for the first time the day before, when Nico had rescued a 9 year old Will from picking a fight with another kid who wasn’t exactly keen on being out-qualified by a girl.

Nico had eventually reunited Will with the rest of the Knightsbridge family, and Mark and Mary were so relieved that they offered Nico and his family to join them for dinner, once they found out the Dumonts were staying at the same hotel. Sophie and Nico had been friends ever since. “What do you mean I’ve been enduring you and your nonsense for ten years?”

Nico threw his head back and laughed as Sophie handed back his phone with a smirk. She was joking of course. Truthfully, she had no idea where she would be if she didn’t have Nico to turn to for advice, or to fight her corner. Something which Sophie gladly paid back in return without hesitation. She remembered Nico calling her on the eve of his F1 debut last year, as he tried to shake off any remaining nerves. He’d ended up dragging his Alpha Tauri into 9th place.

“Ah,” Nico grinned, reaching out for Sophie’s hand to give it a tight squeeze. “I love you too”

Eventually, Marie returned with a toolkit of make-up brushes, and goodness knew what else in a large pouch with more pockets than Sophie could count tied round her waist. She got to work on Sophie’s nails first, painting them a shimmering gold, before putting Sophie’s hair in large rollers. Much to Nico’s delight, as he took multiple pictures and videos of the entire affair to post on Instagram later.

“Have you ever been in a fashion show before?” Marie asked as she finished Sophie’s make-up with a few coats of mascara.

“It’s not something racing drivers normally do” Sophie sighed and pressed her lips together (though not too hard as to smudge her lipstick).

“Ah well,” Marie paused, taking a step back to look over her work. “You are certainly beautiful enough for it. Charlotte!” A younger woman, much closer to Sophie’s age, with strawberry blonde hair tied in a high ponytail shot up from one of the small sofas, and made a beeline for Marie and Sophie. “This is Charlotte, she’ll be your dresser”

“Oh, I’m done?” Sophie asked hesitantly, slowly reaching down for her backpack.

“Yes, all done” Marie smiled and handed Sophie’s garment bag over to Charlotte. Nico had left a few minutes ago, since he had less hair to style into place. Sophie politely thanked Marie for taking care of her and followed Charlotte’s hurried footsteps to one of the cubicles. The show was still a couple of hours away from starting, but the drivers were required to walk the red carpet first.

“It’s so nice to meet you” Charlotte smiled at Sophie brightly as she held open the curtain to one of the cubicles. “I had no idea women could be racing drivers until this year, I know you haven’t won a race yet, but I think what you’re doing is amazing”

“Well…” Sophie blushed, not really knowing what to say. Charlotte was far from being the first woman Sophie had met this year to be wowed by her presence. “I’m not the first, not in F1 anyway”

“Yes, you’re number six!” Charlotte replied excitedly as she closed the curtain and unzipped the garment bag, revealing Sophie’s strapless, calf length satin dress. "Oh what a beautiful dress! What label is it?"

"H&M" Sophie blushed as she toed out of her espadrilles. If Charlotte thought any less of it, she didn't show it as she slid to dress off the hanger while Sophie quickly undressed. "I didn't know being a professional dresser was a thing"

"Yes! Fashion shows are always so busy" Charlotte replied as Sophie stepped into the dress, and held it up as Charlotte zipped up the back. "Ah, perfect fit. Though I'll use some tape, just in case" Charlotte produced a roll of body tape from a bag at her hips. "Don't worry, it won’t damage the dress" She smiled reassuringly as she attached two pieces to the top of the dress, and gently pressed them down. "Any jewellery?"

"Uh yeah, in my bag" Sophie walked over to her backpack, and pulled out a shoebox, and a much smaller black velvet box. And as Charlotte took out Sophie's shoes, she audibly reacted when Sophie opened the small jewellery box, revealing a pair of small teardrop pearl and diamond earrings. "They were my grandmother's, on my Dad's side"

"They're very pretty, let me get your necklace" Both pieces were set in gold, and the necklace featured five small rice pearls scattered along the chain. Charlotte fastened it so it sat just on Sophie’s collarbone. "All done, you look beautiful" Sophie had avoided looking at the full length mirror in front of her out of fear at what she'd see back. It turned out that in all the time since breaking up with Tom to now, she'd forgotten how pretty she was.

Rose gold eyeshadow enhanced the swirls of brown in Sophie’s eyes, her cheekbones had been accented just enough to bring them out and add a small bit of definition to her face, and her lips had been painted a rosy nude shade that complimented her skin perfectly. Her look had been finished off with a blush of soft pink on her cheeks, and her hair that had been styled into large loose curls framed her face perfectly.

"What's wrong? Do you not like it?" Charlotte asked suddenly as Sophie’s eyes dropped to the floor. She wasn't sure how to reply.

"No, no I just... it's been a while since I..." Sophie glanced into the mirror again, noting that the rose satin dress gave her figure more of an hourglass shape than what she naturally had. "I don't get to dress up that often" She blushed, stepping into her suede nude heels. Charlotte had seemingly read between the lines, as she gave Sophie a knowing look.

"Well, you should. Oh, one more thing. Can you hold your hair back?" Sophie did as she was told, and felt a small dab of something wet on the back of her neck. "Eyelash glue, it will hold your necklace in place when you walk down the runway" Sophie felt the necklace clasp being pressed against her skin. "There, now you're ready" Charlotte said with a triumphant smile. "Your things will be put in a locker, just come and find me once everything's wrapped up" Already she had pulled back the cubicle curtain, and Sophie found herself rooted in place. "Own it" Charlotte said, tilting her head towards the backstage area. “No one has the right to make you feel uncomfortable in your own skin”

And after taking in a deep breath, Sophie stepped out of the cubicle, realising that Charlotte and Marie had put too much effort into Sophie for her to just hide in a corner. So she walked over towards where the drivers were supposed to wait, in the hope Nico would be waiting for her as promised.

  James couldn’t remember the last time he’d been at Amber Lounge, it might even have been as far back as when he was still driving for Aston Martin, but he wasn’t sure. Normally it was an event saved for the rookies and younger drivers. But the team had convinced James into going by saying how great it would be for their most recent world champion and most recent podium finisher to be seen together at the same event. Especially since McLaren were starting to think about gearing up for their 60th anniversary celebrations.

Plus, it was either the fashion show or a yacht party, and James hated yacht parties. At least this way he’d be with some of his fellow drivers, as he found himself catching up with Aaron Jones.

The dress code for the fashion show was formal, but not black tie, so the male drivers had a small bit of leeway in what kind of suits they could wear. James had opted for a three-piece charcoal and navy check suit, with a white shirt and burgundy tie – formal, but not completely bland.

“Is that Sophie?” Aaron asked out of the blue as he looked over his shoulder. James turned his head to look in the same direction and did indeed find himself looking at his team mate. He’d found himself noticing her a lot more than usual so far this weekend. But not in a ‘she was always the first person he saw’ kind of way. No, Sophie was the person he’d spot as he glanced round the room, then he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Oh wow” James said without realising. “Look at you!” He said louder, in a more affectionately teasing way, as Sophie walked over towards them. She blushed as she clasped her hands behind her back. “You look great Soph”

“Thanks… you haven’t seen Nico have you?”

“I think he went out to make a phone call” Aaron interjected before pulling his own phone out of his pocket, and asked to take a selfie with the two McLaren drivers. Sophie’s face lit up with relief when Nico arrived, in his pale blue suit, white shirt and black tie, and the two friends teased each other about how well they scrubbed up. James happily obliged when Sophie asked him to take their picture, and he couldn’t help but notice his team mate’s first genuine smile of the evening.

A few minutes later the drivers were eventually shooed off to the red carpet, which passed by in a blur of flashes and slightly forced smiles, and they found themselves seated on the front row so that when the time came for the driver’s slot they wouldn’t get in anyone’s way as they left. And for publicity purposes, of course.

As James sat down he smoothed down his tie, and as he inhaled he smelt the faint whiff of something sweet and floral. He took in what he thought was a subtle deeper breath, but it caused Sophie to quietly grown.

“I knew I put on too much perfume” She muttered, rapidly tapping her fingers against her leg. She was sat in-between James and Nico, who was chatting away to Marc Pavard in French.

“Oh no it’s fine really, I just wanted to know what it was. That’s all”

“You’re just saying that so I won’t get embarrassed” Sophie scoffed and looked down at the floor. “Orange blossom, for what it’s worth” She said quietly as the lights dimmed and the opening segment of the fashion show got underway.

After about half an hour or so, the drivers were quietly led backstage, and filed into order by one of the directors. It didn’t seem like the drivers were in a particular order – until James and Sophie were left until last, arguably being the most high profile of those present.

“You alright team mate?” James half-turned to look behind him, and saw Sophie looking blankly into the distance. “Hey” He reached out to gently place a hand on her forearm, and it worked in getting her attention without startling her. “Just… take a deep breath in and pretend you’re walking over to me to say hello”

“Uh huh…” Sophie hummed, pressing her lips together.

“Or, think about how happy your Gran would be to know her jewellery was getting shown off in Monaco of all places” He remembered Nico saying something about Sophie’s necklace and earrings when they left for the red carpet, and that netted Sophie’s second proper smile of the night.

“Thanks, don’t break a leg” She replied back.

“I’ll try” James chuckled, and turned round right as a group of models rushed backstage to change into their next outfits. There was a brief pause before the drivers segment was introduced to feverish applause, and a slick guitar riff started playing over the speakers, followed by a steady beat as Nico made his way onto the catwalk.

When it came to James’ turn he flashed a bright smile for the crowd as he walked down to the end of the catwalk, paused for a few seconds, then turned around. Only to be frozen in place. Sophie wasn’t just smiling as she walked out, but beaming – making her look absolutely beautiful.

And that terrified James beyond all belief.

Maybe all the long days at the track were starting to pile up, maybe it was because they genuinely got on with each other, or maybe it was because Sophie was exactly James’ type: friendly, smart and gorgeous, that he realised he maybe didn’t just like her as a team mate.

Shit, he’d told himself that wasn’t going to happen.

Working on automatic pilot, with his smile still fixed into place, James walked back to the top of the catwalk to stand in formation with the other drivers. And as she walked past Sophie, the pair briefly smiled at each other, the way good team mates did. Eventually when Sophie re-joined her colleagues as the music ended to more than polite applause, James put a hand on her shoulder and smiled for the cameras. And all he could smell was orange blossom.

He could start burying his feelings in a panic, but maybe with so many races to go until the summer break that wouldn’t be the best idea. Maybe if he just acknowledged it for what it was, a fleeting attraction at seeing her glamorously dressed up for the first time. After all, they’d known each other for four months now. Surely, if James really was attracted to Sophie, he would have felt something long before now. And maybe tonight was just a blip, a lock up on an out lap. Maybe if James registered what he felt, it would go away just as quickly.

Because he really, really, didn’t want to think about the consequences of the alternative.