#around the corner fic

[suosage]

i'll pass...

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[carebeardean]

Charles loves Edwin So Much for so many reasons, but I think there must be a particular kind of joy for Charles, who walked on eggshells trying not to say the wrong thing to set off his dad for years, and probably brushed off a lot of racist micro aggressions from his friends before they killed him, watch Edwin Payne absolutely rip a man to shreds with his words.

edwin can’t fit in, has always been too effeminate, too queer, too autistic, and they already killed him for it so he doesn’t bother. what a relief it must be for Charles to be around someone completely, stubbornly himself.

someone who doesn’t lie because it doesn’t occur or him to. someone who is viciously, rightfully angry about the violence that was done to him. who maybe.. Charles doesn’t have to pretend around

[ghostbsuter]

Danny's relationship with time was a fickle thing.

Sure, the literal being of time is his grandpa, dad, sibling, son?

It was really fickle.

But one thing is clear, he could use it, twist it, and control it for a few chances. With Time's blessing, of course.

And he does so, with every villain, hero, mob boss, vigilante, assassin, and alien he comes across.

If only they'd stopped calling him a speedster. Does it really look like he needs to run to be better?

[imaginesmai]

Right around the corner (4) - Azriel

I didn't mean to make it this long, but I hope you liked it! There will be a fifth and final part, I think. You guys wanted to forgive Azriel so I needed to show you what happened. Be careful with the tags!

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: after the damage has been done, Azriel finds his brothers ready to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: prepare a second tissue box. Also, mental health issues - our boy has been through a lot and doesn't talk kindly about himself.

Cassian only remembered a few big arguments between Azriel and him. While Rhysand had headbutted with the general at the beginning, Cassian and Azriel’s relationship had been natural. The first one was loud, abundant and had a deep, burning need of someone understanding his pain. The shadowsinger was the complete opposite, and they had instantly connected.

Their biggest argument so far, that had brought them apart for almost ten years, had been when Rhys disappeared under the mountain. Cassian had gathered an army and was ready to march on Amarantha when Azriel stopped him. At the moment, he had felt betrayed by his brother, frustrated and furious.

But even if it had taken him ten years, they had worked their way around it.

Before Rhysand winnowed them away, Cassian was ready to start the second, biggest argument of their relationship. Even if he tried to hide it, the general still had abandonment and trust issues, and that his brother had hid something so important from him, that hadn’t trusted him with something so precious for an Illyrian male, broke his heart.

He was ready for the argument, but wasn’t ready for Azriel’s cries.

The cabin was filled with shadows, that moved frantically around. The shadowsinger had lost control of his powers a very, very few occasions, never relying on his emotions. But when Rhysand and Cassian appeared in the cabin, the high lord had to create a barrier between them and the shadows to protect themselves.

“Brother” Cassian whispered when the shadows started to let go, enough to see Azriel curled in the couch.

“Azriel, what’s wrong?” Rhysand was by his side the second he was let through, a hand on his shoulder. The shadowsinger barely acknowledge them. “Damn it. You’re freezing”

“I’ll turn on the fire”

“And bring a blanket” Rhysand called out as Cassian started moving.

It was muscle memory, after so long. After so many nights where either of them came battered to the cabin and Rhysand’s mother would take care of them. In silence, Cassian moved around the familiar space, turning on candles and searching for clothes.

Meanwhile, Rhysand used his powers to get into Azriel’s mind. Instead of prying into his memories, to rip away whatever was causing him pain, his friend helped him to rebuild his mental wards.

The high lord managed to make him sit up, enough so he could fall back against Rhysand’s shoulder and the male could hug his friend. The sobs quieted down and the shadows disappeared, apparently happy someone was taking care of their master for now.

Cassian stared at them for a moment, torn between the need to comfort and to hurt. To comfort Azriel as he had comforted him so many times in the past, to be there for him and apologize to any feelings he had felt during the last hours. But also, to search for the source of that pain and tear it down to pieces.

Years of living with him had taught him to be patient, so he ended up sitting on the other side of Azriel, tossing a pair of trousers and a sweater on his lap.

“Come on, try to stand up”

In silence, between Cassian and Rhysand, they managed to put some clothes on the shadowsinger. Azriel was quiet all the time, with his gaze lost in the fire. Every now and then, his knees would buck down and he would hitch a sob. But each time, there were his two friends, ready to catch him and steady him.

It felt as if nothing had changed for a moment, as if it was Cassian beaten to a pulp after a bad fight or Azriel having panic attacks when the lights came off. So many times in the past had they been in that situation.

When they finished, they ended up sitting in the couch. Now, they were bigger, wider, and nothing similar to the scrawny boys that huddled together when no one else wanted them. The couch felt ridiculously small, yet they managed to fit just fine.

It took Azriel a while to talk, and they didn’t pressure him.

“I have a mate” he admitted.

Through the haze of sorrow and sadness, of not knowing if the bond would hold on for much longer now that you had realized what had been going on, Azriel didn’t feel any different. He had imagined himself saying it a lot of times, presenting you to his family – with good and bad outcomes. And it had made him nervous, wary, enough that he had decided against it.

As he confessed it to his brothers, his family, he felt no different.

And hated himself just a little bit more.

“Did they… do this?” Cassian asked carefully, feeling how Azriel’s body tensed under his arm. “They hurt you?”

“No”

Rhysand willed himself to stay calm and respect his privacy, but he wanted nothing more than to answer Cassian’s silent call to barge in his mind and solve whatever was happening.

“Her name is Y/N” he added, his eyes filling with tears once more. “She… The bond snapped six years ago. I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up so bad”

“Y/N” Rhysand repeated, trying to remember if he had heard your name before.

“Six years?” Cassian looked between Rhysand and Azriel. “That… can’t be. Six years?”

“I fucked up”

Azriel’s voice broke once more, and between sobs and hitched breaths, he managed to explain what had happened. He let it free from his chest, hoping it would make him feel better, but it didn’t. It only made him realize, once more, how fucked up he was.

Without interrupting, Cassian and Rhysand listened to the story of that pointless mission that took him right to your door, where he was supposed to ask you about a male’s disappearance. About the moment he felt the bond in chest, in his soul, and how he had run away and avoided you.

They listened as he broke when he talked about that day you had invited him over, ready to accept the bond, and how he had faked to be confident. He didn’t mean to disappoint you, so when you had asked with so much hope if that was what he wanted, he had said yes, even if part of him knew he wasn’t ready.

Azriel described how, during the following weeks, he had confused the happiness from finally being together, with no interruptions, with the usual high of mates accepting the bond. How he had realized later that it wasn’t normal the fear and anguish he felt after he left your apartment, and how without meaning to or knowing how, he hadn’t accepted your imprint on him.

“That’s why we haven’t noticed” the high lord said, taking it all in. His brother’s story, his hurt and pain.

“What were you afraid of?” Cassian almost cut him off, bursting out the question both of them wondered about. “We are your family, Az. You should know we will accept you no matter what. And a mate… that’s something wonderful”

“Because I don’t deserve her” Azriel finally looked up to Cassian, and his friend was taken aback at the emotions in his eyes. “She’s soft, and beautiful, and the worst thing she can do is squish a spider without wanting to”

“Azriel, that’s not – “

“It is. You should see her, Rhys” he cut him off, turning to look at him. “Y/N is… different. The Cauldron must have made a mistake, because she’s everything I’m not. And I don’t deserve her”

Azriel tried to let Rhysand know why he didn’t deserve you. Why, every time he thought about bringing you into his life and letting you know the spy master, it broke his heart a little. He wanted to keep you safe, away from anything that could stain you the way he was stained. And he had thought, apparently, that he could get away with it.

Feyre poked at his mental barriers softly, wondering what was happening. After sending a comforting message through the bond, Rhysand returned Azriel’s look with a different type of conviction.

“I don’t know her, and I would love to” Rhysand told him, giving him a soft smile. “But brother, I know that whoever gets to be your mate, to share their life with you, has been blessed by the Cauldron. Your family didn’t see you the way we do, the way she does. And what they did – that isn’t what you have to expect any time someone gets close to you”

“My family isn’t the problem here” he tried to excuse himself, but the high lord could see the truth in his eyes.

“It is. You’re afraid to committing yourself to the bond because you fear she will break it. Because your family broke your trust. And then you thought you had that with Mor, and – “

“Don’t go there” Azriel warned him. “Don’t read me”

“I don’t have to read you. I know you”

“Az, you… deserve a mating bond” Cassian spoke finally. “Everything you have been through isn’t your excuse to reject it, it’s the reason you finally have something good”

Azriel wasn’t ready to talk about it. He had never been ready to talk about how he had felt when his brothers, the people he looked up to, tortured him as a game. He hadn’t shared with them yet how hard had it been to know he was a mere observer of his family life, locked away in a dungeon and treated like a dog.

And the feeling of not belonging, of having a safe place sabotaged, had only grown each time he watched Mor from the distance with someone else.

He wasn’t ready to talk about it, but he understood, that he had to.

“I feel like it’s all a dream. As if I’m watching my own life unfold from the distance, like a good movie. Whenever I’m not with her, I have this… thing” he explained, opening his broken heart to his brothers. “Like I’m a fraud”

“You’re not a fraud” Cassian corrected him quickly, barely standing his brother’s self-depreciating speech.

“I am. I pretend I have it all together but I’m so afraid” he swallowed hard at the end, skipping a breath. Azriel ran a shaky hand through his hair, and his brothers only held him stronger. “Sometimes I think about… our future, about her with me, and I feel like drowning because what if she – what if she stops loving me? I can’t handle – She’s all I have, all I want. I love her so, so much. I can’t – “

That time, both males were ready when Azriel tried to fold into himself again, shadows shifting anxiously and turning off a few candles. They were ready to keep him up straight and, somehow, holding him together as he broke apart once more.

Azriel needed help, and his family was more than ready to finally walk him through it.

-

You didn’t know what breaking a mating bond meant, or if that was even possible. If the feeling of your chest at any hour was the void of Azriel’s bond or if it was just your imagination. Either way, you had never experienced such a pain.

Barely able to leave the bed, you had been forced to close the bakery. Not permanently, you told yourself, just until you had it all together once more. Even if you didn’t know what that meant.

The day after Azriel left was spent grieving, and thankfully, you had his shadows to help you around. You managed to make it to the bed, to slide the curtains shuts and cry in peace without breaking your back along with your heart.

A day turned into two, then into three. Before you knew it, it had been a week and you weren’t any better.

You had tried to find an explanation, to comfort yourself in the happy memories or forget the past events. But your mind brought you back to the horrible realization that he didn’t want you. That Azriel didn’t love you the way you did.

You were understanding, you had always been. A smile on your face, gentle hands and loving words. That was what you were, a kind soul, your friends told you. Never through a tragedy other than losing your wings, always loved and taken care of.

Azriel had taken it all away in just one night.

The first note came from Feyre, although it wasn’t the last one. Even if you ignored them, you received those same notes that had uncovered the truth during the whole week.

Hello, Y/N. It’s Feyre, do you remember me? I have my art studio in front of your bakery. I’ve noticed that the bakery is closed, some of your usual customers even came to ask me about it. Everything alright?

Hi, Feyre here. Should have told you in the previous note that I’ve heard about you and Azriel from Rhysand. I’m here if you want to talk.

It’s Feyre again. I’ve seen the new sign about you taking a few days off. I hope everything is fine.

I hope it doesn’t bother you, but my friend Mor has been begging me for days to let her write you a message.

Hey, it’s Morrighan. We don’t know each other, but I fixed your necklace once. We heard about your thing with Azriel. Just wanted to say that part of it it’s my fault, that I haven’t treated him right in a long time, and many of his insecurities are because of me. So, I guess I’m partly the one to blame and I’m sorry. And you should know how miserable he is without you.

Y/N. I’m Cassian. Hi. How are you?

Dear Y/N, we were wondering if you would like to join us for dinner on Friday night. Greetings, Rhysand.

You ignored each and every note they sent you, even the ones carefully delivered by Azriel’s shadows. You expected them to leave, and part of you wanted them to do so and forget everything that reminded you of him. But they stayed for the whole week, bringing you food and taking care of your wellbeing. And the other part of you, the irrational one, liked the pain of the familiarity they brough.

They even helped you prepare a bath when you decided to be functional again. On Saturday’s morning, you changed the sheets, prepared the laundry and ventilated the room. You tossed out every dirty tissue and food container you had accumulated as if something had possessed you to do so. Then, you took a bath and cleaned carefully every part of your body.

It reminded you of cleaning Azriel’s wings and hair, of taking baths together, and you ended up crying naked in the bathtub until the water was cold. It took you half of the day to be decent enough to even wonder if you were ready to open the bakery once more.

Not that you were able, because there was a knock on your door and you just knew who was outside.

“It’s Azriel”

His voice was muffled because of the distance, but you heard the roughness. You froze on the kitchen, where you had been having your silent debate, and your heart sped up.

None of the notes were his, not even a casual flick through the bond that kept you communicated through long missions. If it wasn’t for the range of emotions you had felt during the last days, some of them similar to yours but not quite, you would have thought he had disappeared.

But there he was, just behind your door. Some shadows slipped through the bottom, tangling between your legs. The cold feeling was different from the one the usuals left, and you realized they were panicked shadows.

Azriel had mentioned you that his emotions controlled his powers if he wasn’t careful, and that the shadows went and came with them.

The new shadows tried to push you to the door, and like a rag doll, you let them complete the small path. They disappeared once more under the door, only to appear again when you didn’t open it.

“Hi” Azriel croaked out, only the wood in between. “I’m sorry. They appeared a week ago and I can’t control them yet. I’m sorry”

“They’re colder”

Your sore throat matched the tone of his voice. It wasn’t more than a whisper, a useless fact that you knew Azriel already noticed. But still, you felt the need to mention it. There was no anger left, no deception. Just the feeling of the new shadows caressing your skin frantically.

You couldn’t bring yourself to open the door and face him again, because you knew you wouldn’t forgive him. There was a pending talk between the two of you, missing explanations. You wanted to understand what had happened during the last six years, and he deserved to know what he had put you through.

Instead of asking you to open the door, you heard him shift on his feet and flap his wings.

“Yeah. And smaller” he agreed. “Um, I tried to get rid of them. Are they… bothering you?”

Am I bothering you?

“No. Not yet”

No, you aren’t. Not yet.

“Right”

It was almost comical to watch the shadows move around you. You hadn’t noticed the single tear that escaped, but they did – and in a moment you were blinded as they all tried to wipe it out at the same time. They made you take a step backward and almost stumble to the ground.

You had never seen too much of Azriel’s shadows, of his power. Apart from the single ones that danced around you and kept you company, you had never met the real shadowsinger. All the stories around him felt strange, property of someone else rather than your mate.

Azriel must have heard you move, or gasp, or maybe the shadows told him. He placed a hand on the door.

“Are you okay? I should go back. I’m sorry. I can’t make them – “

“They feel different too” you comment, enchanted by the shadows moving in your line of sight.

They were dark, and you shouldn’t have been able to see anything. But in the darkness, you could somehow guess their shapes. Some of them were smaller, bigger, thinner and wider. They weren’t like the formal, perfect ones Azriel usually wielded around you. They felt raw.

It took him a while to answer, and you waited patiently for his answer. You didn’t expect anything from that conversation, weren’t even sure what the conversation was about. Just hearing his voice felt at the same time as a punishment and a reward.

Still, he surprised you.

“Madja says they are the original shadows, the ones that should have been around since the begging” Azriel confessed, his nails scratching the door. “The ones… She says I was so scared of my own power that I locked it in a cage as a child and created just a shadow of the real one. Which I could control and… understand.”

“Madja the healer?” you blinked, still surrounded by his shadows. “Why are you – are you hurt? What happened?”

“No, I’m fine. I mean, unharmed. I’m not hurt” he chuckled humorlessly. “She’s been helping me with other things”

“Like what?”

You didn’t know where it came from, but there was an urgent edge on your voice that kept you alert. You knew Madja, had seen her help Azriel after any nasty mission. He had even told you about getting rid of your scars with her help.

Her name brought the already familiar pain – that you knew about her because she was important for Azriel, but she didn’t know about you because you weren’t that important for him. You waited in silence until he decided to talk again. When he did, you could tell he was close to tears.

“I’m not okay. It has taken me too long to figure it out, and it has costed me what I love the most in the world, but I’m not. I… am afraid, all the time” he started. “I am afraid that you will see my true self, what I am in the dark, and hate me the way I hate it. I’m afraid that you will figure out what made my family despite me, toss me aside, and decide to do the same. Or that you realize that I’m not a good mate, and be too kind to tell me and live trapped in a lie”

Feelings wasn’t something you usually shared with Azriel. You were the sensible one, the emotional mate. Who talked about something that made you happy or sad, that expressed your fears knowing he would be there for you no matter what. But not once in your six years you had heard about his.

Each word dug a hole in your chest, from your own feelings or his. The shadows eased enough to let you take a step forward. As if there was an invisible hand printed out, you put your hand where his was on the other side of the door.

“I am terrified to hurt you without meaning to, or to not be what you need. All the time. I’ve… created a routine, apparently, to give myself a sense of false confidence. To build a reality” Azriel stopped to catch his breath. “You’ve shaken that reality where I just… survived, and I thought I could continue pretending everything was fine. It’s not. It’s all so fucking wrong in my head”

Your own eyes were filled with tears by then, ready to fall on your knees. Because, what were you supposed to do now? You wished you could just forget about the past week, about his words – because you had just accepted that he was okay, had missed any signal that he was struggling.

And that made you feel almost as bad as him not accepting the bond.

“So I’m gonna get right, I’ve been getting help” your mate finished, taking a deep breath. “And then we… I love you, Y/N. I don’t have much to offer, but everything I am and have, is yours. When I’m okay, I promise, I will make things right. I promise”

Before you could answer, his shadows disappeared and Azriel winnowed away.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Right around the corner taglist:

@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @wallacewillow0773638 @clara-geekhime @kalulakunundrum @saltedcoffeescotch @originalcrusadetrash @mel-wcst @ailyr92 @bubybubsters @chickensrock3

[astronicht]

i loved the sort of gritty but beautiful realism of tavullia radio + was seeing your marc and alex siblinghood thoughts earlier today, and i was wondering if you had any thought about how you would explore the brothers marquez dynamic or any moment between them in the tavullia radio universe or like, in that style...

Thank youuuu <3 <3 More tavullia radio! I love this verse haha. Follows directly from here, but can be read alone. CW for some nausea i guess.

“No, I don’t know,” Marc says into the phone. He is drinking a warm cola because some old man seems to have once told Valentino that that is good for an upset stomach. “Do they have Buscapidol here?”

“Hold on, I’ll look it up,” Alex says down the line, fuzzy through his shit airpods. They’re not facetiming because Marc has had enough being looked at today. The ranch on a silent Sunday is a strange place to be ill. The ranch building itself, the old farmhouse part, is homey, but if you go out into the repurposed barn it’s all white linoleum and rows of bikes, stacks of merchandise, receipts on the floor of the shipping station.

“I don’t think so,” Alex is saying apologetically. “But I guess it’s just peppermint oil. Does he have peppermint oil?”

“I don’t know. It’s Sunday, is anything even open here?”

“You’re thinking of Austria. The pharmacy should be open, just limited hours,” Alex said. “Maybe you can just order Buscapidol, like, overnight it?”

Marc burped.

“Gross,” Alex added.

“It’s just the cola making me burp,” Marc complained. “He gave me warm cola.”

Alex seemed to pause. There was shuffling on the other end of the line, and the sound of Alex closing their medicine cabinet, where he had been reading off names of things because Marc couldn’t remember what he usually wanted: Toshedra syrup, Diarfin Flas, Voltadol — no, it’s the dressing, Marc — Cola de Caballo, Ibudol, three different types of Dolovanz Forte next to the prescriptions.

“Cola?” he said, “Like soda?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it helping?”

“Yeah,” Marc said thoughtfully, and burped again.

“I’ll start burping at you too,” Alex threatened.

“Hey, I’m sick,” Marc said.

“Is it….”

“It’s okay, yeah. It’s really quiet here when no one is around. Or—no, someone’s in the yard, I think. Looks like Franky?”

He leans forward and squints out the window. The movement doesn’t throw him back into nausea, which is very nice.

“Are you outside?” Alex asks, surprised.

“No, the living room. There’s a fireplace.” He’d been worried that the smell would set him off, but the cola seems to be helping with that too. “Want me to say hi to Franky for you?”

He hears Alex swallow. “Nah, don’t get up,” he says. “Where is he?”

“Franky?”

“No.”

Marc leans back on the sofa, sighs, eyes closed. “I told him I wanted an hour in the quiet. He gave me the house for it, I guess.”

Alex almost laughs, though Marc's not sure at which part. Small win.

“You know, this was a pretty weird call to get,” Alex says, not bothering to be very faux-casual about it.

“Uh huh,” Marc grunts, pretty sure where this is going. He looks out the window again. Franky is pulling along one of the training bikes, gesturing at something that is wrong with it. Maybe the front suspension. Presumably, around the windy corner of the house is Valentino, talking back. The house is quiet, settling. For a room designed to cater to something like forty teenage boys, this corner sofa by the fireplace is pretty nice.

“Because I thought you were still doing filming in—”

“Yes, yes, I just came for a few days. I was supposed to fly back tonight.”

A pause. It’s a relief, actually, to clear the air a little.

“Ask at the pharmacy if they have any peppermint drops or whatever. That’s all Buscapidol is,” Alex tells him. He is not exactly forgiven.

“It’s not the same,” Marc says, listening to Alex wander through rooms of their house, shutting doors.

“Better yet, tell him to go get it,” Alex says. “And when you get back, open your mail, Jesus—” the sound of scattered packages on the kitchen island. “Yeah, once he’s done giving you cola and the house or whatever.”

“Yes, yes,” Marc says, laughing. He doesn’t feel so good. Probably time to go hide in Valentino’s bathroom again. “Okay, I should go.”

“Okay,” Alex says, “Okay, okay—don’t forget about the mail.” The call cuts.

[just-french-me-up]

If you'd still like Dreamling kiss prompts, how about 7 or 17?

@martybaker asked : Hello, your fics are so lovely! May I humbly request ‘A kiss to shut them up’ if you’re still taking prompts? 👉👈 @anonymous asked : Thoughts on dreamling 7 or 17 (to shut them up or to distract - maybe even both at once?) for the kiss prompts?

We're shutting him up, yall! This is a Retired!Dream one, in which Dream struggles with the human body and human condition, and can't see how he can measure up to his old self in Hob's eyes. Angsty you say? Deceivingly horny I raise you! I kept this sorta M rated but... hey if there's more to come *winkwink* who knows?

The human body was a curious thing. It required constant attention, fluids, fuel, maintenance, care. And yet it was so... limiting. Morpheus could still remember how it felt, to think of a place and feel the ground shift under his feet without ever having to move. There had been no hunger then. No thirst. No itching, for his skin had never had the notion that it could be too dry.

If he had ever felt those things, it had been because he had chosen to.

Now the world imposed itself to him, there wasn't much of a choice.

Urges baffled him the most. The dryness coating his mouth on a particularly hot day, his mind conjuring up images of cold, condensation-weeping bottles. The drowsiness taking hold of him after dinner, weighing on his eyelids. The burning, devouring heat flaring in his abdomen as Hob would step out of the shower, a towel lazily tied around his hips, the line of hair trailing down his navel guiding Morpheus' gaze downwards.

It was a strange thing, to be overcome by such sensations. An infuriating thing, really. He ought to be able to resist them. He had been able to resist them, once, to ignore them, dismiss them into nothing if he so chose. How vexing it was, to be a creature of wants and needs, when your existence had been nothing but careful control.

He would not tell Hob, but he could not help but feel... lesser. How clever could his mind be, now that he only had access to his own? How good could his hands be, he who had been able to breathe life into dream clay, fashion lands and castles with a single thought? How pleasing could his touch be, now that he was barred from his lover's unconscious? How could he compare to who and what he had been, once?

They had not made love ever since his encounter with the Kindly Ones. Hob had never pushed, reading Morpheus far better than Morpheus ever could, now. There had been times, here and there, when Morpheus had thought they would, with lingering kisses growing deeper, embraces in bed tighter, but something had held him back. Some bitter gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach. Yet another thing he could not seem to control.

Yet he wanted. Desperately, frustratingly so. The most mundane things would strike him as the most erotic sights he could fathom. Hob drinking his coffee in the morning, his Adam's apple bobbing as he'd swallow. Hob reading the day's papers, his gaze intent, focused. Hob reaching up to grab this or that from a cupboard, his shirt riding up and showing his navel, while his tired pajama bottoms hung from his hips, revealing the slight dips there, a hint of hair...

Morpheus' body would betray him often, subjecting him to fantasies and erections that, much like the rest, he held little control over. Unlike food, lust was a hunger he never seemed to satisfy. It only grew.

If Hob had ever caught him staring, he never said anything. Instead, he was highly skilled at noticing when Morpheus' mind would start spinning on itself, feeding the loop of existential dread looming over him. He had taken to giving Morpheus tasks, then, something to focus on. Although it would not quite clear the storm, it muffled it somewhat.

Perhaps he'd sensed another one of Morpheus' spirals that night, when his voice rose from the bedroom.

"Oh, bollocks! Love? Might need a hand here."

As he stepped inside the bedroom, Morpheus found Hob standing by the mirror, struggling with his button-up. He flashed a quick contrite smile at him, emphatically tugging at the fabric.

"Can't manage to button those buggers off," he explained.

"Allow me."

The human condition was one thing, but buttons he could handle. Morpheus' touch was methodical, surgical almost, as he focused on the task at hand, yet three buttons later, he could not help but feel his focus slip. He could feel Hob's warmth under his fingertips. His heartbeat. As he breathed in, Hob's scent filled his lungs, distracting him further. By the time he was done with the shirt, his mind had gone elsewhere.

Hob wore an undershirt, a thin, almost see-through thing. It required barely any effort to see his chest in spite of the fabric. Morpheus' eyes trailed down, heat flushing his cheeks. Mindlessly, his thumb traced the line of hair down Hob's abdomen, his mouth filled with want. He could feel hot breath against his lips. Humans were not meant to withstand such hunger.

They were kissing before Morpheus could articulate another thought, Hob's mouth warm and soft against his, the coarse brush of his stubble adding fuel to the fire overtaking him. No doubt Hob had meant for this to be tender, but Morpheus was famished, taking, and taking, and taking all that was offered until his lungs might explode. He found himself gasping against Hob, nose to nose, forehead to forehead.

"Hey," Hob whispered, gentle to a fault. "It's okay. There's no rush."

Morpheus swallowed hard, feverishly catching his breath. Hob's palm was invitingly cool against his cheek.

"I will keep," he continued. "We don't have to―"

"I want to," Morpheus rasped, weeks of frustration pushing the words out of him. "I want you. I just―"

"Just what?"

The patience in his voice was the lifeline Morpheus held onto as he sighed, embarrassment flooding through him.

"This form, it feels... finite. Flawed. Lacking."

Fallible, he did not say. He watched as Hob's eyes grew round, ridicule joining embarrassment.

"Duck―"

"I am not as I once was," he continued, overcome with the need to justify himself. "I am no longer suited to anticipate your every want. I can not satisfy you to the degree I once could. Everything I have to offer is bound to disappoint in comparison."

Hob's stare felt heavy, too heavy for Morpheus to hold, but as he looked away, Hob took his chin between his fingers, directing his gaze back to him.

"Love, I―. Sex is not about making some kind of... of ranking."

"Your unconscious would rank it, regardless."

"Fuck my unconscious. It's my conscious self who wants you, magic dick or not."

The corners of Hob's mouth twitched at his own joke, but seriousness soon took over.

"I love you," he said, prompting Morpheus to look away again. "I love you. I would love you Endless, I would love you human, I would love you if you were a tentacled monster and hell, you've been that before if you'd recall!"

Morpheus fought back the smile creeping up on his lips.

"I never cared how we'd fuck. Well, I did, but― I did because it was you. I wanted to be with you. I still do."

Hob sighed, and they stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other.

"At least now we know that mind of yours is well and truly yours and not a Dream of the Endless exclusive."

"An unfortunate discovery."

Hob's hand settled on Morpheus' waist, his thumb brushing the fabric of his shirt.

"I do want you," he said. "Whenever you're ready. If ever. But I don't want you holding back because you've convinced yourself I may not enjoy it well enough, according to some cosmic standard you've set for yourself."

Morpheus nodded slowly, his own thumb back to tracing the happy trail on Hob's stomach.

"I have always found you pleasing enough, after all," he dared, shooting a tentative look at Hob. "As human as you are."

Hob made a face, pulling him closer by the waist.

"Your compliments need work, duck. But I do think there's a silver lining to this whole human condition you are overlooking."

"Is that so?"

Hob smirked at him, fully conscious of how devilishly handsome that made him. He had had, after all, centuries to hone those skills. How long would it take him?

"You no longer have access to my unconscious, right?"

"I do not."

"Which means you can no longer anticipate my every want, as you said."

Now that was rubbing salt into the wound.

"Yes," he conceded with a frown.

"Well imagine how arousing it is, my love," Hob said, his eyes darker by the second, "to be able to surprise you."

A warm shiver went down Morpheus' spine, sending his pulse into a frantic race. He swallowed thickly, holding Hob's gaze.

"How arousing?"

"Very. Cock-achingly, one might say."

Morpheus glanced down, finding Hob's trousers tight, his hard cock pressing against the fabric, making his knees weak. The human body truly was weak in the most delicious way.

"I could dare you to surprise me," he teased back, his breathing loud in his ears.

"You could."

Gods, that mouth of his, Morpheus was quite certain he could be undone from that tone alone. But still.

"But should you find me displeasing, you ought to―"

The rest of his words were swallowed into a kiss, unheard and discarded, replaced by tender sighs and wanting hands, and after a while, Morpheus found he'd forgotten what they even were, his mind blissfully blank save for pleasure.

The human body was a curious thing. A highly pleasing thing, at times.

Send me a kissing prompt?

[justaz]

merlin being forced to confront the fact that he’s failing his people bc he’s sitting idly by while uther slaughters them all and coming to the decision that he has to act to save them but that’ll make him camelot enemy no. 1 but technically he already was they just didn’t know it. merlin spending a week all morose but unwilling to talk about it and spending as much time with his friends as possible. on his last night in camelot, he goes to arthur’s chambers and the prince is confused on why he’s there. merlin drops a sealed letter on his desk before pulling arthur into a gentle and emotional kiss. they barely separate, their lips hardly a breath apart, and merlin asks for forgiveness. arthur, thinking he’s apologizing for the kiss, tells him there’s nothing to forgive and goes in for a second kiss but merlin pulls away, knowing that that one brief kiss was all he could handle. if he lets arthur kiss him the way he’s dreamt of being kissed, he won’t be able to do what he needs to do, he won’t be able to leave. merlin tells him good night and leaves before arthur can react. he’s gone by dawn.

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

The Twin Boys; One in Black, One in White

[shooison]

Snippit from my stupid billford fic im writing

Bill pokes his head out of the booth, inspecting the diner. It's quiet save for the sound of cooking from the kitchen and there's a girl at the bar scribbling some sort of literature into a notebook. Bill watches as she takes a sip of her coffee. The color was so disgustingly light it was almost beige. Bill actually gagged at the thought of how much sweetener that girl stuffed in that small cup of coffee. Humans have terrible taste in the things they put in their bodies. He inspects her outfit. A messy, and obviously hand-sewn short patchwork skirt with various types of fabric in all colors that looked as though it was made too long and the bottom was just hacked off till it was a desirable length, she wore combat boots and a leather jacket that had the phrase "I Eat Crayons" in messy hand-painted rainbow lettering. At least she has a decent fashion sense.

Diner Girl is my friend's OC named Frankie. She likes her coffee way too sweet and has a (bad?) fashion sense. (shes just alternative but think time period) She hates skirts that go below the knee.

i may change wordings of stuff before i post the first chapter but yk

FIC IS CALLED STARMAN BTW (IT WILL MAKE SENSE I SWEAR)

[everliving-everblaze]

You know, I see a lot of older fans talk about "the 2020 fandom," and I truly think that was an unrepeatable situation. Not ONLY were we all on pandemic brain, but the author of the series had just announced for the first time that there wouldn't be a full book that year. We had all the free time in the world, zero content coming our way, and had just been left on a book where Sophitz broke up and Keefe got put into a coma. How could we NOT have gone absolutely feral? anything was possible

[incorrectgearbreakers]

Jenny: Gods, give me patience

Sona: I think you mean "Gods, give me strength"

Jenny: If the Gods gave me strength, you'd be dead

[imaginesmai]

Baker!Reader x Azriel fics

A recompilation of all the baker!reader x Azriel fics! Hopefully I'll be adding more in the future. They are ordered chronologically, not in the posting order. The first fic is a series of five parts. They are all related but you can read them independently. Enjoy!

Right around the corner: the story about how the inner circle realized Azriel had a mate and how Azriel fucked up in the process.

I missed you: Azriel has been away for a month and comes back to a busy, cozy morning.

Taken: you're taken in the worst possible situation, and Azriel fights against time to find you.

Hewn city, where nightmares come true: your anonymity makes you a great choice for Rhysand's mission, even if Azriel doesn't agree. But you'll do anything to discover more of Azriel's life, even the worst part. So you decided to take that trip to Hewn City - where nightmares do come true.

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part III

Word count: 7,972

Warnings: Nondescript death (in Minecraft), shipping (nothing explicit!)

Summary: When Tango agreed to join Double Life, he didn’t anticipate being soulbound to Jimmy- a player he hardly knows. And when their first meeting happens after he loses their first life, he figures the only way left to go is up. But he’s quickly proven wrong when feelings complicate the situation, and he finds that his greatest conflict might just be within himself.

A/N: I’m back with the next installment of my and @lunarcrown’s Hels to Pay AU! (more info and previous fics here) I really don’t know how these keep getting so long. I actually had to split this one up into two parts and it’s still almost 8k. This starts out following Double Life canon, but then diverges after session 1. Btw, I don’t use accurate Minecraft day/night cycles; I envision each session taking place over a normal 24 hour day, just so it’s easier to grasp the passage of time. Hope y’all enjoy, please reblog if you do! It means a lot <3 - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part III - babe, there’s something magic about you, something so tragic about you, don’t you agree?

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, a player respawns in a tree.

He’s disoriented, an explosion still ringing in his ears as he blinks against the sudden sunlight. Leaves tickle his face- he jerks back instinctively, then his stomach lurches as he almost loses his balance, yelping in surprise. His mind is racing, rational thought struggling to surface against residual panic and adrenaline. Only a second ago, he’d been deep inside a cave fighting off a horde of mobs, and the next-

Clinging to a tree branch with one hand, he uses the other to pull up his communicator.

Tango was blown up by Creeper.

SolidarityGaming died.

The memory comes rushing back; fending off mobs, backing up beneath an overpass, the sudden appearance of a creeper in front of him as the air filled with the sound of hissing-

“No!” Tango wails, the drawn-out cry devolving into hysterical laughter as realization sinks in.

He’s just gotten himself- and his soulmate, because oh right, soulmates are a thing here- killed by a creeper. The first deaths of the newly generated world, in which the goal is to be the last pair standing. And it was a creeper, a stupid creeper of all things! Oh, what a horrible start.

Tango feels the flames of rage licking at him- the blaze rods around his head burning with fire- and forces himself to take a deep, calming breath before he sets the whole forest ablaze. He exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Well-”

“What happened, Tango?”

Tango’s ears prick at the sudden voice. Startled, he whips his head around- and nearly falls out of the tree in the process. He recognizes the voice, though he isn’t as familiar with its owner as he is with some of the other players in this world.

SolidarityGaming. Also known as Jimmy. Also known, now, as Tango’s soulmate.

And the guy Tango just got killed.

There’s something almost familiar about this. Their first real meeting, back on Third Life, involved Jimmy losing his life to Tango’s game of risk. They’d hardly spoken before that, and have hardly spoken since. And here they are now, reeling from the revelation that they’re soulbound and fresh off a death that Tango caused.

The Universe just loves messing with Tango, doesn’t it?

“Oh, hi! Hi!” Tango stammers out, disbelief still coursing through him.

“Um…” Jimmy sounds like he’s in shock, too. His voice isn’t far off. “Wait, where are you?”

Tango glances around. “Are you- are you here?”

“Yeah…”

Peering through the leaves, Tango’s gaze falls on a figure standing just across from the tree; a man with large golden wings. His wide brown eyes scan the little mountaintop forest, one hand raking through his dirty blond hair.

Tango carefully pulls himself up into a sturdier perch, poking his head out from the canopy. “How- what are the chances of that? I die, and now we’re linked, and now I- oh, cause you died too, I’m so sorry…” His shoulders creep up by his ears as guilt sweeps through him, his voice climbing a couple octaves. “I’m so sorry.”

Jimmy blinks up at him, looking stunned. And surprisingly, not angry. “How- take me through it,” he says, holding out a hand. “What’s- what’s happened there?”

“Uh, there was some caving…” Tango explains sheepishly, feeling his face heat up. “And then there might have been… about seven zombies and a spider, and a-”

Pain suddenly jabs Tango in the side; Jimmy’s just been rammed by a goat.

“You’re being butted!” Tango exclaims, scrambling down from the tree. 

“Yeah, lemme…” Jimmy is already backing away from the goat, eyebrows raised as one hand absently rubs his side. The goat, for its part, seems to have made its point and trots off into the forest. Shaking his head, Jimmy turns away from it.

Tango, standing in front of his soulmate for the first time, feels his stomach lurch with nerves. Jimmy’s a few inches taller, though his broad shoulders and well-built arms make him feel a lot bigger- as do the wings poking up behind him.

What an introduction.

Belatedly, Tango realizes they’ve both lost everything, and covers his face with his hands. “Oh no…” he groans. Oh, Jimmy must hate him already-

“So,” Jimmy continues, his voice still neutral even as he starts pacing around the clearing, “you just… you got blown up by caving?”

Tango nods vigorously, rushing to explain. “And then- and then I was focusing on the army approaching me from one direction, and uh… yeah. The ol’ ‘creeper from behind’ trick.”

“Oh… my gosh,” Jimmy breathes, his wings ruffling behind him as he paces.

“I am so sorry,” Tango murmurs anxiously. He scans Jimmy’s face for any indication of anger, but it’s still markedly absent. In fact, his expression is almost reminiscent of a smile- that same incredulous humor Tango was feeling, where all he can do is laugh at the situation.

“Right,” Jimmy says, stopping to face Tango. He sounds like his mind is going a mile a minute. “Let’s meet up in a bit- I need to go get my stuff before it- before it despawns.”

And just like that, they’re straight to business.

Jimmy’s surprisingly easy to talk to. They discuss how to proceed with getting geared up again- with only minimal scrambling and panic (which they even end up laughing about). Jimmy thinks he knows where he died, while Tango is, of course, clueless (should’ve been paying more attention, stupid). Jimmy doesn’t admonish Tango for killing them, brushing off his apologies and self-deprecating comments about it (“No, no, it’s gonna happen all the time today.”), gently redirecting whenever Tango’s frustration seeps through. And the only time Tango sees him truly upset is at the revelation that Tango’s lost his goat horn.

Which, all things considered, is a stupidly endearing reason to be upset.

By the time they split up to gather resources, most of Tango’s frustration has ebbed. He’s still mad at himself for being so reckless with their lives, and he isn’t looking forward to starting from scratch again, but he’s… cautiously optimistic.

Sure, they haven’t gotten off to the best start, and they don’t really know each other all that well. But nevertheless, it doesn’t feel like he and Jimmy will have any problem getting along.

And in a game like this, that makes all the difference.

~*~

“Should we…” Tango hesitates, looking down at Jimmy as he crouches by their furnace. “Should we- I mean, given that we’re linked… should we maybe make a little happy house together somewhere, and call it base?”

The light from the furnace’s flame flickers warmly across Jimmy’s face. “I think so,” he replies thoughtfully, tossing Tango an iron sword and a pickaxe.

~*~

“I’m not good with building at all, Tango,” Jimmy warns him, “so um-”

Tango pauses, crafting table in hand. “Oh, I was hoping you would say you were!” he exclaims, spinning around to look at Jimmy. “You’re not the builder?” For some reason, he’d just assumed Jimmy would know more about building than him.

“Wh- wait, you’re not the builder?” Jimmy repeats, a bemused grin spreading across his face as he realizes they both seem to have made the same assumption.

“I’m not a builder, no!” Tango laughs, smacking his forehead. “Oh, well. We live in a dirt hut.”

Jimmy’s laughing, too. “We might be in trouble, here…”

~*~

Tango pauses in the middle of the cave’s passage. “You don’t- you don’t have any piece- you don’t have anything, do you?” he murmurs, a sudden pang of guilt seizing him.

“No, no, I’m bare bones,” Jimmy says good-naturedly, stopping to glance back over his shoulder.

Despite the utter lack of accusation in Jimmy’s tone, Tango winces. “Here,” he tosses Jimmy his iron boots, “here, here, take some boots, at least. Because if you die, I die, so...”

Jimmy scoops them up, quickly pulling them on. “Thank you, thank you,” he murmurs gratefully.

“We’ll share whatever we’ve got,” Tango says, following Jimmy as he leads the way out of the cave. “It’s pitiful, but…”

Jimmy’s wings ruffle as if in silent agreement, scattering a trail of golden feathers behind him.

~*~

“My man said he couldn’t build!”

Jimmy’s sudden voice is filled with pure, undisguised admiration. Tango immediately feels himself flush at the compliment- plus the denotation of ‘my man’- and quickly laughs it off. “It’s a box, it’s a box, alright,” he says dismissively, dropping down from the wall- then sheepishly ducking his head when Jimmy yelps at the damage. “It’s not much…”

“This is good!” Jimmy says earnestly, patting him on the shoulder as he passes.

Tango huffs a laugh. At least Jimmy has a good sense of humor. “Thank you!” he says with mock pride.

“Crafting table for the step, look at this!” Jimmy excitedly hops up into the threshold of the house, his wings fluttering behind him.

Tango chuckles to himself as he follows Jimmy inside. “Oh, I know,” he drawls, putting on airs. “Super fancy, right? Look at this- multi block usage… I know, I know.” As if this silly little wood and cobblestone shack could even hold a candle to what the other people in this world are capable of building-

“It’s looking great, dude,” Jimmy says softly, his voice completely genuine as he stands back to look at the house. “It’s looking amazing.”

Tango rubs the back of his neck, his laugh suddenly a bit nervous as he realizes Jimmy is being sincere. “Feel free to uh… help out,” he says, pulling a face. “It’s a little bit uh, you know…” He trails off into some incoherent noises that more or less reflect his feelings about the current state of the build.

Jimmy just smiles and shakes his head. He hops back off the front step and pulls something from his inventory. “Look at my hand,” he says, watching Tango eagerly. “I got it.”

It takes Tango a second. “What’d you- oh! Look at you!” he exclaims; Jimmy’s returned from his travels with a bucket of water, which they need for farming. Tango breaks into a grin, putting his hands on his hips. “You go out on a mission, and you come back with goods. This is what I like to see, this is what I like in a partner. Well done.”

Jimmy looks rather pleased, ducking his head. “Thank you.”

Warmth blooms in Tango’s chest, reflecting the heat from his blaze rods. This day isn’t turning out half bad, after all.

~*~

“Tango?”

Tango’s ears prick at the sound of Jimmy’s voice, straining to make it out above all the clucking. “Yes?” he calls, starting to climb out of what he’s affectionately dubbed ‘the chicken hole.’

“Um…” Jimmy doesn’t sound too far off.

“How’s it goin’?” Tango prompts, climbing the ladder back up to the main floor of their house. He thinks he might see the top of Jimmy’s head through the door’s tiny window.

“Where are you?” Jimmy asks, his voice humming with anticipation.

“I’m in the house…?” Tango finally reaches the door and pulls it open. Then he gasps.

Jimmy is standing outside with four cows.

“Oh! You’re amazing!” Tango cries excitedly, jumping down from the front stoop as Jimmy starts laughing. “Oh, you are so- look at you! You have a beef army- look at this!”

“I have a family!” Jimmy beams, patting the nearest cow on the nose as it starts sniffing after the wheat in his other hand. “Welcome to the family!”

Together, they start the process of moving the cows inside- since they don’t have any kind of barn or paddock to put them in just yet. Tango eagerly informs Jimmy of his success with the chicken operation, which Jimmy is delighted by.

“We’re just raising animals now,” Tango laughs. That combined with the budding farm outside almost makes this feel like a normal survival world, like they’re just taking care of all the early game things rather than preparing for a death game.

“We’re good for something,” Jimmy jokes. “We’re good for something…”

“Ranchers,” Tango agrees. “Team rancher.”

He rather likes the sound of that.

~*~

By the end of the day, Tango can safely say he’s happy with their progress.

They’ve got a respectable wheat farm growing outside, right next to their mineshaft entrance. The cows have been moved to a little enclosure next to the ranch that Jimmy built, and the automatic chicken farm is chugging away collecting eggs.

They haven’t had any more mishaps, aside from Joel coming by to antagonize them and incidentally taking them down to two hearts. Jimmy was unsuccessful in his bid to get a goat horn from Grian, but Tango has promised they’ll work on that tomorrow. The chorus of horns going off every ten minutes is a potent motivator- Jimmy gets more and more distressed every time it happens because he can’t join in. Privately, Tango wonders if that’s an avian thing or just Jimmy’s dislike for being left out.

But it isn’t until the sun sets and they’re both standing inside the ranch, bidding each other good night, that Tango realizes there’s one very important thing they’ve neglected.

They have only one bed.

In all their travels during the day, neither of them happened to pick up enough wool to make a second bed, too preoccupied with cows and chickens and begging for resources to think about finding sheep. The single white bed pushed up against the wall suddenly looks blatantly, painfully small.

There’s an awkward pause as the realization settles over both of them.

Tango clears his throat. “Uh, I’ll just-”

“You should take it,” Jimmy says, at the same time.

They both stop talking, looking at each other expectantly, then letting out sheepish laughs.

“No, no,” Tango says, waving his hand, “go ahead and take the bed tonight, I’ll just- I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Uh, no, it’s okay,” Jimmy insists, “I’ll take the floor. You spent all day building this house, it’s the least I can do-”

“Nuh uh,” Tango cuts in firmly. “Look, I don’t really get cold, alright?” He gestures absently at the blaze rods floating around his head. “Just take the bed, okay, we’ll find some sheep tomorrow.”

Jimmy hesitates for a moment, clearly wanting to argue, but Tango’s expression must deter him. “Alright,” he relents finally. He glances away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, thank you.”

“No problem,” Tango replies, relieved to have convinced him otherwise. He already cost Jimmy a life today; it’d feel wrong to rob him of a warm bed, too. Besides, Tango is more than used to going without one.

Jimmy flutters about the house, blowing out their torches as Tango gets settled in a corner. “Good night, then,” Jimmy offers, climbing into the bed.

“Night,” Tango says, folding his arms and tucking his chin to his chest.

The ranch lapses into silence- aside from the near constant mooing and clucking, of course. Tango figures he’ll learn to tune it out eventually- that is, assuming they stay here a while. This is a death game, he reminds himself. Even if things go well, they might not be here all that long.

In spite of the mild discomfort of Tango’s position, he feels himself nodding off fairly quickly, his blaze rods starting to dim. It’s been a long day of hard work, and he’ll need all the rest he can get for whatever tomorrow brings…

A creaking sound reaches Tango’s ears.

Tango’s fully awake in an instant, eyes flying open. His vision rapidly adjusts to the dark- a perk of being part nether mob- and he can just make out the shape of Jimmy, tossing and turning in bed. His wings are fanned out and tucked tightly against his body, like a massive blanket. Beneath the rustling sound, Tango can hear what sounds suspiciously like shivering.

“Jimmy?” he whispers.

The shuffling stops. Jimmy’s sheepish voice comes after a moment.

“... yes?”

“Are you cold?” Tango asks, sitting up.

Another pause. “... no?” Jimmy says, unconvincingly.

Tango frowns. The bed is against the wall that’s right next to the fence of their cow enclosure- and as a result, not fully sealed against the outside. Even the cows are huddled together in the corner, keeping each other warm with their shared body heat as wind blows through the holes in the outer walls.

Tango feels a cold prick in his own chest, the sensation taking him by surprise. Is he feeling Jimmy’s coldness through their soulbond?

“Uh, okay,” Tango says, knitting his brows together, “it’s just, you seem kinda cold.”

“I’m fine,” Jimmy says meekly. “Sorry to keep you up, I’ll be quiet-”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Tango reassures him. “I’m just wondering how we’re gonna stop you from turning into a popsicle overnight.”

Jimmy huffs a soft laugh. “Really, Tango, it’s- it’s alright. I’ll just suck it up.”

Tango chews on his lip, hesitating. “You know, I uh… I happen to function as a portable heater, myself,” he ventures, trying for a joking tone. “If you are in need of such a service, I mean…”

“Oh no, no, I don’t wanna impose,” Jimmy says quickly, sounding flustered.

Inexplicably, Tango feels himself blush. “Hey, it’s- it’s no problem,” he laughs, hoping to brush off the awkwardness of the situation. “I mean, it’d be more of an imposition if I woke up in the middle of the night taking damage from hypothermia, right? We’re soulbound, after all.”

“We are soulbound,” Jimmy murmurs, wavering.

“It’s not a big deal,” Tango insists. “Plus, neither of us will get any rest if you’re over there shivering all night. I can uh, I can sort of feel the chill, through our soulbond.”

“Oh.” Jimmy sounds taken aback. “Well, um, alright then-”

“Only if you want!” Tango adds hastily, not wanting Jimmy to feel pressured. “I just- you know, there’s no need for you to be freezing when I’m basically part furnace.”

That gets another chuckle out of Jimmy. “Yeah no, it’s alright, I…yes, that’d be nice, thank you.”

“Cool.” Tango rises to his feet and wanders over to the bed, fighting back a wave of awkwardness. “Um, hi. So- so how do we…?”

“Uh, here.” Jimmy shifts over to one side of the bed, tucking his wings close against his back. “Um… come on in? Oh- oh my gosh, sorry, that’s weird.”

Tango lets out a nervous laugh. “Right, here I come.” Then he immediately cringes.

What is wrong with him? They’re just two players, sharing a bed for warmth. And they’re soulmates, no less. They already share hearts, hunger, and actual lives- what’s a bed, compared to that? It’s fine, it’s nothing.

With that final thought of encouragement, Tango eases himself onto the bed. His knee bumps against Jimmy almost immediately, which leads to mutual whispered apologies and further readjusting, the bed creaking under their combined weight. As Tango moves to turn onto his side, he accidentally elbows Jimmy in the ribs- they both freeze and inhale sharply at the shared pain.

After what feels like an eternity, they finally get settled, laying back to back. The feathers of Jimmy’s wings tickle the back of Tango’s neck.

“Well, g’night,” he breathes.

“Night,” comes Jimmy’s soft reply.

They fall into silence.

Tango stares at the opposite wall. Where only minutes ago he’d been half asleep, now he’s wide awake- hyper aware of Jimmy breathing next to him, not daring to move. Jimmy seems to have stopped shivering, at least, which is good. That was the whole point, right?

The minutes pass like this, in silent stillness, until Tango’s exhaustion starts to win out over his nerves. His eyelids droop, blaze rods fizzling out and settling on the pillow. They tend to extinguish when he’s asleep, so he usually doesn’t have to worry about starting fires in the middle of the night- except for when he has nightmares.

But Tango has a feeling that won’t be a problem tonight. He just hopes Jimmy is able to get some rest, too, as he finally drifts off to sleep.

~*~

Morning comes soon enough, rousing Tango from a deep, dreamless sleep.

The animals are already clamoring to be fed and there’s light behind Tango’s closed eyelids, but he isn’t quite ready to get up yet. He’s pleasantly warm and well-rested, and surprisingly comfortable. For a moment he simply lays where he is, letting awareness slowly trickle back to him, soothed by the steady rise and fall of his pillow-

Wait. His pillow is breathing?

Tango cracks an eye open, and then he stops breathing.

Somehow, at some point during the night, he’d ended up curled against Jimmy, resting his head on the other’s chest. Jimmy’s wings have come up to cradle them, one arm awkwardly pinned under Tango’s shoulders while the other one is splayed above his head, across the pillow- and his hand is curled loosely around one of Tango’s blaze rods. He looks to still be sleeping deeply, his expression smooth and peaceful, eyelashes casting shadows across his cheeks.

Oh, they are way too close.

A million different thoughts and emotions rush through Tango, culminating in a feeling like an alarm going off in his skull. This is- how did this happen?! Oh, how embarrassing- when Jimmy agreed to share the bed he probably hadn’t anticipated cuddling. Tango can’t think of a time he’s ever been this close to another player, much less someone he doesn’t know very well. Soulmate or no, it’s not- he shouldn’t- 

His distress must be reflected in his blaze rods’ temperature, because Jimmy’s hand suddenly twitches. He lets out a soft groan, eyelids fluttering- he’s waking up.

Panic seizes Tango. He quickly closes his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath through the nose as he wills his blaze rods to dim, so as not to give him away. He manages to keep his breathing steady, despite how madly his heart is pounding, and desperately hopes none of his current anxiety is visible in his expression.

Tango feels the moment Jimmy finally stirs. He starts to roll onto his side and then freezes- his chin must be right above Tango’s head, because he actually hears Jimmy gulp. A shiver runs through his wings before they slowly lift away from the bed. Jimmy shifts in place, carefully slipping his arm out from under Tango at a snail’s pace.

Tango, for his part, pretends to be dead to the world. He does not want to confront the awkwardness of this situation if he can help it.

After a couple painstaking minutes, Jimmy manages to free himself. The bed creaks as he moves to get up- which makes him freeze, breath catching- before he finally gets a leg up and over the side. Tango feels the moment his weight leaves the bed, and then soft footsteps wander around the ranch. The cows start mooing with renewed insistence.

“Shh,” Jimmy whispers, his voice coming from over by the cow pen. The mooing stops as the air fills with the sound of munching. With the cows satiated for the moment, Jimmy’s footsteps move over towards the wall of chests. The slow creak of a chest opening and closing echoes through the room, before Jimmy’s footsteps disappear down the ladder to the chicken farm.

Relief sweeps through Tango. Well, he pulled it off. And if they don’t have to confront what happened, then it’s like it never happened at all.

He waits until Jimmy comes back upstairs and has been rummaging around for a few minutes to finally turn over in bed, sluggishly stretching his arms out. He makes a big show of yawning as he sits up, rubbing his eyes before looking around.

“Mornin’,” he greets Jimmy with a perfectly casual smile. “Sleep alright?”

Jimmy’s face reddens. “Yup,” he says stiffly, turning back to the chest he was sorting through. 

Tango hums his assent, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. There’s an uncomfortable tension in the room, but that’s to be expected. Once they get going and start the day, he’s sure things will go back to normal. 

A familiar sound rings out in the distance, making Tango groan. “And already, the horns- with the mocking- continues, as always,” he sighs, tossing the covers off.

Jimmy pauses for a moment, his shoulders hitching up, before he makes a noncommittal noise and goes back to his business.

Tango blinks. “So uh- whaddaya say we make that the quest for today, then?” he prompts lightly, sliding out of bed and onto his feet. “Acquire some horns?”

“Um- actually,” Jimmy says, without turning around, “I was thinking- I figured we could use some more iron, you know? So I was gonna do some caving.”

“Oh.” Tango feels his smile drop off his face- and quickly summons it again. “Uh- right, yeah, no worries. Just uh, hey- watch out for creepers,” he jokes, crossing the small distance to Jimmy’s side.

“Alri- agh!” Jimmy yelps when he turns to find Tango right beside him, feathers flying through the air as his wings flare out in surprise. He quickly tries to cover up his reaction with a laugh that sounds incredibly forced, sidestepping around Tango towards the door. “Right, right, yeah- I’ll be careful. Um, back in a little while, then.”

The door closes behind him with a jarring sense of finality, leaving Tango in abrupt silence.

Exhaling slowly, Tango pries open a chest to find himself some breakfast. This is fine. Jimmy’s probably just a little embarrassed about what happened last night, and needs some space. As long as Tango doesn’t bring it up, it’s sure to pass, and they can get back to business.

After all, he reminds himself, they’ve got a death game to win.

~*~

In Jimmy’s absence, Tango decides to make himself useful.

The ranch is in dire need of an upgrade. He starts construction on a second floor- a wonky watch tower hardly deserving of the name- and extends the wall past the cow’s pen a little more, to help with the draft. Dipping below ground for a bit, he gathers up enough cobblestone to build a perimeter around the ranch, carrying it right towards the edge of the cliff overlooking the ravine. And finally, he ventures out into the forest and searches until he finds a sheep.

(The second bed goes against the opposite wall from the first one.)

All the while, he stays on top of their wheat farm, making small but frequent harvests. He breeds enough cows to start harvesting beef and leather- which he uses to fashion himself a leather chestplate and a pair of boots to go with his iron leggings. Deciding to run with the ‘poor’ look, he stashes a secret barrel underneath their wall of chests to keep the majority of their resources in, leaving the chests quite barren for anyone who happens to come by to snoop.

And once he’s at a loss for anything more to do, he takes an axe out to the neighboring birch forest and collects some logs- without straying too far from the ranch, of course. He’s got a feeling the cows are going to be a target- most of the lifers spend the first day slaughtering any animals they come across- and with Jimmy in the mine, it’s up to Tango to protect their livelihood.

He’s about to put a sign up on their main gate when a new voice reaches his ears, a low muttering not far away.

“Although there is no-”

“Hello?” Tango calls, whirling around.

“... hello?” comes Ren’s hesitant voice.

“Hello, good sir!” Tango says brightly, scanning the surrounding fields.

There’s a big exhale. “Scared the living heck outta me…” Ren’s head finally pops up over the hillside, breaking into a wide, fanged grin. “Tango! Hey man! What’s happenin’ baby, what’s happenin’?”

“How are you?” Tango greets him, waving a hand. “Welcome to Team Rancher!” 

“Oh, hi!” In just a few strides of his long digitigrade legs, Ren’s come to stand beside Tango- towering over him, as usual. His ears perk up as he takes in the ranch. “Ooh…”

“I’m just- I’m just putting up the sign right now,” Tango says, scrawling ‘Team Rancher’ on the birch sign.

Ren hums, glancing back towards the forest. “Have you explored all these caves around here?”

“No, I haven’t.” Tango snorts. “I mean, just- does it look like I have explored caves? Just look at me.” He does a little spin to show off his mostly leather armor.

Ren laughs, ducking his head. “No, no, yeah…”

“That’s actually where Jimmy is right now,” Tango says, smoothing over his chestplate. Hopefully Jimmy will have found enough iron to get properly geared up-

“Oh, oh, alright, I see.” Ren tilts his head to the side. “Uh- you didn’t go with him?”

“... no?” Tango raises an eyebrow, forcing a laugh. “What, it takes two players to mine for some iron now? What’s- what do you mean?”

Ren holds his hands up. “I’m just sayin’, caves are dangerous, man. Though, I guess you’d know that better than anyone.”

Even though his tone was light and teasing, Tango bristles. “Oh, yeah? Well- well where’s your partner, huh?” he demands, putting his hands on his hips.

Ren gives him an odd look. “Bigb is back at Box, perfectly safe, thank you,” he replies. “You alright, man?”

“I’m fine,” Tango says shortly. “Why don’t you just run back to your soulmate, then? If everything’s so wonderful.”

“Um…” Ren blinks. “Okay, I’m gonna level with you, my dude. I came here to see if I could get ahold of some cows but clearly, there’s somethin’ else going on here that’s a bit more urgent.”

Tango squints at him suspiciously. “Wh- what?”

Ren gives him a knowing look, peering over the brim of his shades. “You havin’ soulmate troubles, dude?”

Tango isn’t proud of the squeaking noise he makes. “What? No!” he insists quickly. “No, no, not at all!”

“Really?” Ren asks, dubious. “Cause it really seems like you are.”

Tango exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. “It’s- it’s nothing, alright? I’m sorry I snapped,” he says, his voice calmer. “Look, if you wanna trade for some cows, I think we can arrange something.”

Ren hesitates. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I…” A sudden thought hits Tango. “Actually, do you have any goats?”

That redirects Ren’s attention. “Uh, there’s some goats hangin’ out near Box, yeah?” he says, looking taken aback.

“Oh! Oh, good!” Tango exclaims, clapping his hands together. “Okay, uh, how about- how about two cows for two goats?”

“Yeah? You mean it?” Ren asks excitedly, his tail swishing side-to-side. “That’d be amazing, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s do it.” Tango waves for Ren to follow him as he turns back towards the ranch. “Right this way, sir.”

If this doesn’t cheer Jimmy up, Tango doesn’t know what will.

~*~

Once Tango brings the goats back to the ranch and gets them settled in a new enclosure, the rest of the day is fairly uneventful.

Martyn wanders by at some point, lamenting his and Pearl’s rejection by their soulmates, Cleo and Scott. He asks where Jimmy is- probably looking to antagonize him- so Tango just shrugs and says, “Out.” That earns him a look with far too much sympathy in it for his taste, so he tells Martyn to take a hike.

Scar rides in on a beautiful dapple grey horse, inquiring about leather. He claims some kind of debt that Jimmy owes him, which Tango conveniently can’t confirm nor deny. Ultimately, Tango gives the leather to Scar just to make him leave, because he knows by now that Scar and chaos go hand-in-hand, and it’s not like they can’t spare it.

Then Pearl, inexplicably red despite having yet to lose a life, comes across the ranch to see if Tango knows where a dog is. He doesn’t, but she spots his goats and offers to tell him how to get horns in exchange for food of the cooked beef variety- of which he now has plenty. He agrees, and she informs him he needs to make the goats ram stone.

Tango files that information away for later and bids Pearl farewell. The horns still go off frequently, tempting him to try and get one of his own, but he restrains himself. It’ll be better to do it when Jimmy’s back.

It’s nearly dark when Tango finally hears footsteps coming up the mineshaft. He drops what he’s doing and rushes outside, jumping around the corner of the house.

“Heya, partner!”

Jimmy lets out a high-pitched shriek, sending up a spray of feathers. “Oh my gosh!” He clutches his heart, face flushed. “You- you scared me.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tango chuckles. He bounces on his toes. “So, how was the mining? Did you get all the good stuff and things?”

“Uh, well…” A bit shyly, Jimmy pulls his inventory up. “Only… a stack and fifteen iron ore.”

“Woah!” Tango gasps. “Oh, that’s amazing! Look at you!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Jimmy says, bowing his head. Then he takes a look around, his eyes widening. “Oh wow, look at you, you’ve been busy!” He cranes his head up at the ranch. “You even added a tower!”

“It’s not pretty,” Tango admits, “but hey, it’s something.”

“And does this wall go ‘round the whole perimeter?” Jimmy asks, raising his eyebrows.

Tango nods eagerly. “Uh huh, uh huh- and that’s not even the best part.” He grabs Jimmy by the wrist, tugging him around to the front of the ranch. “C’mere, c’mere!”

Jimmy laughs as Tango pulls him along, then they come to a stop in front of the goat pen. He blinks at it in confusion before a goat happens to spring into the air, high above the wall. His mouth falls open. “Oh… my gosh.”

“Mmhmmm!” Tango hums, quite pleased by the reaction.

Jimmy gives him a shocked look. “No-”

“Oh, yes,” Tango grins.

“You got goats!” Jimmy exclaims, clapping a hand to his forehead.

“I got goats!” Tango agrees proudly. “We’ve got goat technology!”

Jimmy rushes over to the front gate of the pen, wings flapping excitedly. “Oh my gosh, look at them! There’s a whole family!”

“Pearl came by earlier and explained the process to me,” Tango says, walking up next to Jimmy. “We’ve gotta get them to charge at us and then jump out of the way, so they hit that stone wall back there. And then- and then we’ve got horns.”

Jimmy pauses, giving him a sidelong look. “You- wait, you haven’t got one yet?” he asks, knitting his brows together.

“No, no, I waited for you!” Tango assures him. He sweeps out an arm. “Would you like to do the honors, sir?”

Jimmy stares at him for a moment, an unreadable expression flashing across his face as his cheeks turn red. “Um… actually, I- I’m kind of beat, you know?” he says, his tone far more stilted than it just was. He takes a step back from Tango, glancing away. “I was thinking about just… turning in for the night.”

The abrupt change in demeanor throws Tango for a moment.

Guess they haven’t moved past the bed incident.

“Oh.” He shakes himself, forcing his tone to stay upbeat. “Oh, yeah, sure! Sure thing. You’ve been mining all day, I bet you’re exhausted…”

He follows Jimmy into the ranch- though he keeps his distance. Jimmy pauses, his gaze falling on the second bed almost immediately.

“Ah, you got another bed,” he says, his voice a bit wooden.

Tango shrugs as he carefully steps past him. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, “I said I would.”

“Right. Good.” Jimmy hesitates, fidgeting with his hands for a moment, before he seems to make a decision. “Um, Tango-”

“There’s food in the barrel under the chest,” Tango says as quickly as he can while still remaining casual, pretending not to have heard Jimmy. “If you’re hungry.”

He has a sneaking suspicion that Jimmy was going to tell him about the bed thing- which, unbeknownst to him, Tango is already fully aware of. So really, there’s no point in discussing it. The longer they pretend it didn’t happen, the faster they can just move on.

“Oh.” Jimmy sounds taken aback, glancing over at the chests. “Alright, great. That’s- that’s pretty clever.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Tango says, turning towards his bed. Normally, the compliment would’ve made him quite pleased, but right now he just feels empty. “Well, g’night.”

“Night,” Jimmy echoes.

~*~

Tango doesn’t sleep much that night.

Jimmy’s the first to rise in the morning- which is starting to look like a habit of his- while Tango remains stubbornly lying in bed for a while longer. He has one arm flung across his face to block out the sunlight, listening to Jimmy’s quiet footsteps as he shuffles around the ranch, taking care of the animals.

Eventually his guilt wins out over his stubbornness- it’s not fair for Jimmy to do all the work around the ranch. But just as Tango sits up, his communicator goes off, an identical beep ringing out from Jimmy’s comm.

<Grian> hey everyone, group meeting at spawn? 

<Renthedog> Feels kinda sus…

<Grian> no tricks 

<Grian> time out ok?

<impulseSV> Everything alright?

<Grian> yeah yeah don’t worry

<Grian> just need to talk about some things 

Huh. That’s interesting.

Tango clears his throat, looking over at where Jimmy is smelting up the iron from yesterday’s haul. “You seein’ this?” he asks.

Jimmy doesn’t completely startle this time, though he still jumps a bit under Tango’s gaze. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “weird…”

“What do you think, should we- should we go?” Tango asks, shifting to sit at the edge of his bed. “Could be a trap.”

Jimmy shrugs a shoulder. “Well, he said time out, didn’t he?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” Tango sighs, rising to his feet. “So uh, shall we get going?”

Jimmy nods, strapping a freshly made shield to his arm. “Yeah, let’s go.”

~*~

It’s an uneasy walk to spawn.

Tango is already on edge from the possibility of an attack, and Jimmy’s cold shoulder doesn’t help. His senses are on high alert as they make their way through the mountaintop forest, coming to a stop at the peak. 

They aren’t the first players here- Grian and Scar, of course, are waiting expectantly, speaking to each other in low tones. Impulse and Bdubs are also present; they’re holding hands and laughing about something, Impulse’s forked tail curled loosely around Bdubs’ waist. Impulse catches Tango’s eye and lifts a hand in greeting, which Tango returns with a nod.

They settle in to wait. Tango leans against the nearest tree, folding his arms across his chest, as Jimmy stands awkwardly beside him. Being at spawn is bringing back memories of their death- something Tango might’ve looked back on with fond humor if Jimmy didn’t seem so uncomfortable.

The rest of the players trickle in over the next few minutes. Scott and Cleo don’t seem particularly enthused to be here- nor are they pleased by the way Pearl slinks after them, a dog at her side. She keeps her distance, but her gaze keeps drifting towards them, clear yearning in her eyes.

Etho and Joel splash down in the middle of the clearing, leaping from the treetops to land the silly little water bucket trick they’re so fond of. Bdubs immediately brightens at their arrival and strikes up conversation with Etho, which Impulse contributes to good-naturedly as Joel eyes them suspiciously.

Ren and Bigb are the last to arrive, their base being the furthest from spawn, with Martyn having tagged along with them at some point. He seems content to remain on Ren’s other side, though he casts a not-so-subtle glance in Cleo’s direction.

“Alright, we all here?” Grian starts, scanning the little circle they’ve formed. “Okay. I guess we’ll get started. Uh, thank you all for coming on such short notice-”

“What’s this about, Grian?” Joel asks bluntly.

Grian gives him a look. “Right, we’ll get into it straight away,” he huffs. “So, I’ve noticed over the last several days that uh, bloodthirstiness seems to be at an all-time low. Now, I know it sometimes takes a while for these things to get started, but the general consensus I’m getting is that… most of us are pretty happy where we are.”

Martyn makes an outraged noise. “Well, that’s easy for you to say!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You got paired with Scar, and I’m over here soulmate-less!”

“Who’s fault is that, Martyn?” Cleo calls pointedly.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Grian chides them. “My point is that this season doesn’t feel like the other ones. The only deaths we’ve had have been from mobs- and we didn’t even have any at all yesterday. Theft and sabotage are way down, and I have yet to see a single trap being constructed.”

Bdubs makes an incredulous noise. “Wh- hey, is this- is this just a lecture about us not killin’ each other fast enough?” he demands, crossing his arms. “Cause uh- I mean, you better be careful what you wish for! I can- I’ll go nuts, if you want,” he threatens, his expression darkening.

The effect is somewhat diluted by Impulse chuckling and putting an arm around Bdubs’ shoulders. “Oh, he will,” he says, voice full of affection, “gotta watch out for this one.”

“It’s not a lecture,” Grian insists, exasperated. “I was just thinking that maybe we should change things up.”

“Wh- so you mean like a restart?” Pearl asks, not quite able to mask the hopeful note in her voice. Tango can see why that would be particularly appealing to her, as someone who had a falling out with her soulmate. It’d be a second chance, a chance to start again and not mess up this time.

Tango can relate.

“I would welcome that, actually,” Etho says, his motivation obvious as one of the only other yellow names.

But Grian shakes his head. “No, more like a rebranding,” he explains. “I propose that we end the death game. No more trying to kill each other.”

The group is silent for a moment.

Tango isn’t even sure what he’s feeling. “So… what would we be doing here, exactly?” he asks, frowning.

“Whatever we want,” Grian says with a grin. “For starters, I’d take down the world border. We could build wherever we want, make farms, go to the End. And most importantly, all our lives would go back to being infinite. No one gets eliminated.” His expression softens. “We just… live. Like it’s any other world.”

Scar subtly nudges Grian in the ribs, and Grian sighs.

“I’ll also unlock the enchanting table recipe,” he says, rolling his eyes. “So we don’t have to go to the Ancient City anymore.”

The clearing fills with chatter as pairs murmur to each other. Tango’s mind is spinning- he’s always loved a good death game, and was quite looking forward to this. But with the current state of things between him and Jimmy, he’s not sure it’d be worth it.

Jimmy leans forward, half-raising a hand. “Would our damage still be linked?” he asks, brows pinched together with concern.

Tango manages not to flinch. Of course Jimmy would want to know that, being stuck with the guy who got blown up by a creeper on day one.

Grian nods. “Yeah, it comes with the soulbond. I can give us back infinite lives, but we’ll all still be linked with our partners.”

“I dunno,” Etho drawls, his mismatched eyes utterly unreadable. “All the deception and murdering is pretty fun… and I’ve already got a survival world back home.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Grian says, holding up his hands, “if we did all agree to end the death game, no one would have to stay. We’d all be free to leave whenever we wanted, and travel back and forth between worlds. The bond only exists when you’re here.” He shrugs. “So leave if you want, I’ll ring you up when the next game comes. But don’t you think it’d be nice for us all to share a world without trying to kill each other for once?”

Cleo snorts. “Who are you,” she demands, folding her arms, “and what’ve you done with Grian?”

“Domestic life has changed you, Grian,” Scott drawls, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Grian’s wings flare out in what might be embarrassment. “Wh- oh come on, I know I’m not the only one who feels this way!” he protests, his voice a bit higher than it just was. “Scar, back me up, here.”

Scar’s eyes light up. “Yes! Yes, I think it’d be a wonderful opportunity to get to know each other better,” he says, clapping his hands together. “You know, us Hermitcraft people don’t really know the rest of you that well outside of trying to kill each other.”

“That’s a good point, actually,” Ren chimes in tentatively, scratching the back of his head as he exchanges a look with Bigb.

Bdubs clears his throat. “Uh, I, for one, would love to spend more time on this world, with my beloved,” he says, glancing up at Impulse with a broad smile. “I’m buildin’ a swimmin’ pool, and we’re gonna host a lovely party at our beautiful house!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m all for staying!” Impulse agrees readily, gazing back down at Bdubs with a similar fondness. “I think it’d be nice.”

Etho makes a show of rolling his eyes. “Oh come on, don’t ask the newlyweds,” he complains, his voice dancing across that line between teasing and actual annoyance. “Of course they’ll wanna stay.”

“You don’t, Etho?” Joel asks, sounding affronted.

“Look, we don’t have to decide right away,” Grian cuts in swiftly. He spreads his hands. “Take a couple days, talk it over with your partners, and then we’ll take a vote, alright?”

Mumbles of agreement filter through the group as they slowly start to disperse, going their separate ways. Tango catches Jimmy’s eye, only for the other to quickly turn away.

Well. This is gonna be a fun conversation.

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, two soulmates walk in silence.

Tango can tell Jimmy’s thinking a lot about what just happened- his wings ruffle unconsciously every minute and he’s picking at his fingernails. He’s probably trying to think of a nice way to tell Tango he doesn’t want to stay and be soulmates with him, because he’s a nice guy.

Tango supposes it wouldn’t be so bad to just go back to Hermitcraft. Focus on his builds for a bit. Another season will come along soon enough, once the rest of these lovestruck fools get tired of playing house. It’s not like he’s lost anything more than a couple day’s time.

So why does the idea of leaving sit so wrong with him?

When they make it back to the ranch, Jimmy stops in front of the door. “Um, Tango-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tango says, managing a tired smile. “I suppose we should discuss-”

“Can we talk about this later?” Jimmy asks, his voice pleading. “I just- I need some time to uh, think about some things.”

Tango’s voice dies in his throat.

This is torture. Why can’t they just get it over with? Clearly, Jimmy doesn’t want to be around him anymore. Whatever day one warm fuzzies he might’ve harbored have obviously faded. They should just rip off the band-aid now, instead of prolonging the inevitable-

His communicator beeps.

<impulseSV whispered to you> Hey, can you come chat for a minute?

Tango puts his communicator away, exhaling slowly. “Yeah, no, no problem,” he tells Jimmy. “Take all the time you need. I’ll just uh, I’ll give you some space.”

He leaves without another word, and Jimmy doesn’t call after him.

~*~

[gloomygloworm]

sorry can't talk im rotating an image of drow edwin and tiefling charles in my brain

[rowanisawriter]

thought too hard about thanatos repeating “what are you waiting for” in zags room