#bravo Mr fly

[rebecca24223]

Everyone’s talking about the amazing acting in this episode from Rafa Silva (as they should) but no one‘s talking about his amazing fly costar, who also did great a job. 

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part XI (act I)

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

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

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

~*~

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

“That’s close enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Atlas nods sagely. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Atlas’s grin sharpens.

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a very Hels kind of thought.

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

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

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

Tango exhales slowly. “It’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Incoming!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bravo lifts his chin. “That’s right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Tango says, “Bravo’s right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... oh.”

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bravo glances away, shrugging. “Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

Timmy’s face falls. “Oh. Oh, okay…”

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

Tango turns to him, beseeching. “Jimmy-”

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

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

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

(What, do you have a better plan?)

(You can’t protect him forever.)

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

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

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

“Don’t you start with that-”

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

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

(Ooh, this should be interesting.)

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

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

(Famous last words…)

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

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

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

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

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

The reaction is instantaneous, several voices protesting at once.

“Absolutely not!” 

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

“This is outrageous!”

“- can’t be serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Oh, go on then.)

(This should be good…)

(They just don’t know when to quit.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

It’s a long flight to Hels Tek.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tango screams.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Atlas leers at him from behind the glass.

“Welcome home, Tango Tek.”

~*~

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

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

Simple.

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

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

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

(Can’t wait to see this…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(No, surely he’s not gonna…)

(Oh wow, did not see that coming!)

(It’s about time, huh?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Ah, gonna make that mistake again?)

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

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

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

(You sure about that, Tim?)

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimmy glances away. “Right, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

Guess it’s the second thing, then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bravo pulls out his communicator. “Yep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tango manages to smile back. “You too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tango’s throat tightens. 

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

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

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

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

He’s pretty sure Jimmy gets the message.

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

It’s better than nothing, anyways.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, alright,” Red pouts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Etho quirks a brow. “Should, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “Your choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Let’s get goin’, then.”

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

A lot of good that did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not really,” Tango answers honestly.

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

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

And apparently, more than his actual overworld counterpart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

And Jimmy will be damned if he lets Tango down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Way to go, idiot.)

(Getting all worked up over nothing…)

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

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

“Just a bite?” Timmy pleads.

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

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

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

(Thank the universe for Bigb.)

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

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

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

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

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

Bravo gives him a sidelong look. “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

(Oh, shit!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Wow, plot twist of the century!)

(You know what that is? Growth.)

(Aw, my problematic fave…)

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Good.” 

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

~*~

Tango hangs limply in his chains, still and silent.

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

Just another day at Hels Tek.

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

That’s no escape, either. 

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

There’s no way out.

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

You were made to suffer.

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

Everything you did was for nothing.

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

They’ve abandoned you.

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

He deserves better.

No, he loves him! He does-

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

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

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

God, it’s so heavy. So cold-

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

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

This is all there is.

He’s so tired…

All you will ever have.

Maybe he could…

Give in.

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

Give in.

Nothing can hurt him here…

Give in.

It’s so familiar…

Give in.

… he knows this darkness. It-

Give in.

It was so long ago-

Give in.

So long ago yet-

Give in.

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

Give-

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

You have nothing-

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

There’s no way out-

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

It’s pointless to-

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

You can’t-

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

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

So he’ll have to bring his own light.

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

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

No, let go-

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

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

All you know is rage-

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

Good things aren’t made for you-

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

You are alone-

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

You’re a monster-

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

There’s nothing-

A portal filled with ever-changing light.

Give-

No. This won’t break him.

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

CONTINUED IN PART XI, ACT II

[covetyou]

the howler monkey

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Mature (18+ only!) warnings: no smut but some nudity, implied drug use/addiction, little bit silly, mildly angsty, performance anxiety, screaming, Dieter Bravo's soft cock. basically mild hurt/comfort/fluff with my usual bit of silliness. word count: 2.8k summary: You got him here, he was safely tucked away upstairs and everything was going, mostly, according to plan. So, who the fuck is screaming?

A/N: For the Dieter Bravo Brain Rot Club March Server Challenge - you're unhinged and I love you all. Dieter would be so, so proud of us. Circus mention in honour of Clown!Dieter.

TROPE: Only one bed and forced proximity PROMPT: "You're going to get us arrested." "Oh, I've always liked the idea of you in handcuffs."

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On days like this, getting Dieter Bravo out of the house was more like wrangling an overtired toddler than it was dealing with a full grown man. At least, you assumed it was. You didn't have a toddler for reference, but you did have a Dieter and, sometimes, that felt worse. He stalled and delayed for so long that by the time you finally - finally - got him out of the door, it was quite literally a race to get the the airport.

The flight hadn't been much different, having to practically drag him through the terminal with head down and sunglasses on to cram him into his window seat. Truth be told, you didn't know why you were flying with him anyway, only to fly back later tonight. Still, as long as it wasn't your money on the line, what Dieter wanted, Dieter got.

But now it was done. You got him here relatively unscathed, all things considered, and Dieter had been deposited in his room, ready to get a full nights beauty sleep before the press descended and the festival opened. All that was left to do was check in with his publicist and you'd be on your way back home, where you couldn't wait to crawl into bed and have a few blissful days to yourself.

So, as is the natural way with these things, it's when you're just finishing up with his publicist in the back of the bar that it all starts. It's nothing but a few strained looks from the hotel staff to begin with.

Then the phones start ringing. Every single one.

And when the phones can't be answered quick enough, hotel guests start crowding around the lobby, whispering amongst themselves about the screaming.

The screaming.

And your blood turns cold. Because it's not. It couldn't be. He wouldn't.

The publicist pays no attention, continuing swiping through his phone and yammering away. Not your circus, not your monkeys, you try to think to yourself as the lobby just gets busier and busier.

But then the hotel manager rushes in, sickly sweet smile plastered on his face, Dieter's publicist blissfully unaware as he stares down at his phone, looking at schedules and interview times and literally anything but the chaos evolving around you.

"Excuse me? Excuse me," he's saying, wringing his hands together as he approaches the table. "You're with Mr. Bravo?"

His publicist doesn't even bother looking up, simply nodding as you stare, open mouthed, into the lobby.

"It seems we have... a bit of a problem," he whispers with wide eyes. "Mr. Bravo is uh... well, screaming. It's disturbing the other guests. I'm afraid if he doesn't stop we're going to have to ask him to leave or call the police."

Well, shit. This is your circus, and that is your monkey in particular.

You're swiping the extra key card out of his hand and making your way out of the bar and into the packed lobby as quick as you can while his publicist sits there, arguing that Dieter would never (he would), that he was quiet (he wasn't), and so it couldn't possibly be him (it absolutely could).

The elevator feels so slow, the whirl of gears and an unseen mechanism pulling you up and up, as you ascend the many floors of the hotel. Then, in a blink and with another creak the doors are about to pull themselves open, and you swear you can hear it already.

The fucking screaming.

You're running now, the elevator doors barely open before you're squeezing through them, not caring for the noise you make as you thud heavily down the hallway. What would a little extra noise matter when there's someone screaming blue murder inside one of the hotel rooms.

Tapping the card, the lock on room 819 illuminates green and you're throwing open the door, the screams having subsided for a moment, and shutting yourself inside and trying to catch your breath.

Aside from the silence, it's dark. That's the first thing you notice. The second thing you notice is Dieter Bravo is nowhere to be seen, even in the dim light creeping around the window.

"Dee... Dieter?" you whisper into the darkness, hoping beyond hope that he's not here and he hasn't been screaming for the past fifteen minutes.

A small, hoarse voice floats toward you from much further away than you'd expect him to be able to be given the size of the room, "Who is it?"

"Dieter? It's me. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?" you loud whisper into the hotel room, running your fingertips across the wall as you creep forward. From what you can tell it looks the same as when you left him here. Nothing is wrecked or overturned, and he hasn't had another sudden burst of artistic inspiration - the walls look the same as they did when you shut the door to Dieter looking forlornly out of the window to the city below.

"What do you mean?" comes the muffled voice. It's closer now, but you still can't see him. There's no lump on the bed, no one sat in the chair, and he's not lying spread eagle on the floor.

"Dieter, where the fuck are you?!"

He sighs, and you hear a slap, like the sound of a hand hitting a flat, solid surface. "Under here, numbnuts."

You take another step forward, peaking under the desk, seeing no sign of Dieter. Turning toward the bed, you try to find somewhere else to look under to find wherever Dieter has stashed himself when you see it.

Two bare legs sticking out from under the bed, the end of his soft green robe just poking out from beneath the frame.

"Dee... what is going on, why are you under there? There was screaming, they think it's coming from in here."

Dieter's silence is all you need to confirm it was indeed coming from in here, from him. Pinching your nose, you ready yourself for whatever he's going to throw at you this time.

"Why are you screaming?"

"Come under here."

"Dieter, no, it's disgusting under there, they don't clean these -"

"I'll tell you if you come under here."

"No, I know this is a nice hotel, but the floors are still filth-"

Dieter cuts you off, a loud scream ripping out of his chest and rattling around your head at a frequency that makes you feel like your skull is about to burst. It must hurt, is all you can think, his throat must be raw and his mouth dry. Panic sets in - hearing a scream like that will do that to a person, you suppose. You panic not just because it must hurt, but because if there was one thing you knew, despite Dieter Bravo's flair for dramatics, he wasn't a man to scream for no reason. And, as much as you hate to admit it, you can't help but think down to Dieter's publicist likely still sat in the bar - Dieter will be impossible to interview tomorrow if you don't stop him soon, and that's if he's even allowed to stay in the hotel much longer.

So, you do the only thing you know how to do when a metaphorical fire in the shape of Dieter Bravo threatens to burn everything down. You throw yourself over it and hope for the best.

"DEE! DIETER! OKAY, OKAY!" you shout, trying not to grimace as you get on your hands and knees to crawl under the cramped space under the bed, ignoring the grit and dust already on your palms.

"Fuck. Shit, Dieter. Ow." You're wedged under there with him now, ass sticking up in the air as you cram your upper body under the bed frame. You can see the vague shape of him under here, a Dieter shaped profile visible in front of you as he stares blankly up at the underside of the bed.

"What's wrong with you?" you ask, somewhat breathlessly, only to watch Dieter tense up at your words. Shit. You didn't mean it like that, and you certainly didn't say it like that either, but before you can take it back and apologize, he beats you to it.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with me," he says in a voice so much smaller and quieter now that your head is right beside his.

"Sorry. Look, I didn't - I meant, why are you screaming, Dee. They said they'd have to kick you out or call the cops. You're going to get us arrested."

"Arrested, huh?" he says thoughtfully, turning to look over at you. "I've always liked the idea of you in handcuffs."

"No, Dieter," you say, and even though you know he can't see you, you roll your eyes in the dark anyway.

Dieter's sigh is so big it picks up errant dust swirls it around under the bed. The urge to swipe at your nose is strong but you resist, knowing from the state of things and the chalky feeling of your palms that it'll only make things worse.

"I'm nervous," he finally says, and that's all you needed to hear.

His face is turned toward the underside of the bed when you crawl backwards. It takes a moment for him to notice, but as soon as he does he's whimpering and taking in a breath big enough that you know he's going to scream again. But you're not leaving, and instead you roll onto your back with an oof and slide yourself under the bed to look up into the nothing with Dieter.

You think back to other times he'd been like this. Too scared to perform, anxiety taking root, frightening him off into some dark quiet corner of a set or his house. You'd found him in his closet once, the only thing apparently capable of coaxing him out was watching you unbutton your shirt a little more because you'd gotten so hot sitting in the stifling little room with him. When he'd finally made his way out, it had been with his eyes glued to the extra patch of skin you'd uncovered and the trickle of sweat dripping down your chest.

Dark as it was, visual distractions wouldn't work this time.

"How many times do you have exactly the same thoughts, and how many times does everything turn out okay anyway? You're good at this, Dieter. You're going to be amazing tomorrow, just like you always are, and I'm not saying that to pressure you to perform, but just because you are. You're amazing."

"Yeah, right," he scoffs, slapping a hand dramatically down on the floor again with a grunt.

"I'm serious. You have a lot to be proud of."

"A lot to not be proud of too."

"Well, you know what to do about that."

"I'm not going to rehab."

"I've never told you to."

Dieter sighs again, because you were right. You had never told him to go to rehab. You never would. It didn't feel like your place to - you were only his assistant. He knows this and you think - know - that sometimes he'd like for you to just tell him to get it together and go, but you don't. "I know."

You don't know how long you both lie there in silence and darkness after that, softly exchanging breaths under the bed. You do know it's long enough for your mind to wander back down to the bar and all the people now going about their evenings. It's not lost on you that no one came in to check on him before you. That now that he'd been silent for several minutes, no one had bothered to knock on the door to see if he was okay. None of them cared, not really. You knew that and, worse of all, Dieter knew that. The people here didn't care about him unless he was being a shiny, glitzy movie star who could say and do the right things in front of the cameras.

Scuffling feet alert you to his movement as Dieter move shuffles toward you, his head colliding gently with the side of yours. You make no effort to move and neither does he, choosing instead to lean his head against yours and rest it there.

The signs are obvious then. The small weave of his head as his eyes track invisible shapes in the dark. The twitch in his fingers, the bounce of his foot. He'd been a mess all day, you can see that now, and whatever he had taken since getting here was somehow making it better and worse all at once.

"How much have you taken this time?"

His breath catches, caught doing something he said he wouldn't do, not here, not this time. But he doesn't lie, not to you. He'd stopped doing that a long time ago, and that was as much progress as you could ever hope for.

"Too much. Not enough. I don't know."

"Okay," you say, even though it isn't, not really. He should stop. You wish you could do more to stop him.

"Will you stay?" he murmurs, even though he knows you have a flight to catch. He'd paid for it when he demanded you come with him, promising you a few days off while he was stuck at the festival answering the same questions over and over again.

"You know I can't, my flight is in a couple of hours, I need to get through the traffic -"

"Please stay."

"There is nowhere for me to stay, Dieter. You don't need me here and I couldn't get a room if I tried. Everywhere nearby is booked." Assistants don't sleep with their employers, assistants don't sleep with their employers...

"I do. I do need you. I'm not asking you to stay anywhere else, I'm asking you to stay here. Stay with me," he mumbles. "I can sleep under here if I have to. Just stay." Assistants don't sleep with their fucking employers...

"You're not sleeping on the floor. And I- I can't." By this point you don't know why you can't, because maybe assistants don't sleep with their employers, but you and Dieter were always a little bit, well... y'know.

"Please."

And your resolve never was that strong where Dieter was concerned. Not really. "Fine. I'll stay. I need a shower and I need to go -"

"You can borrow some of my clothes," he says quickly. "We can shower - separately, I mean - get room service - fuck I'm starving - and then when we sleep, we can cuddle?"

You can't help but laugh, smiling up at the bed at how quickly his mood could turn around, particularly where cuddling and a good meal were concerned. Sometimes, when he was really tired, or high, or sad, or a combination of all three, he'd ask you to cuddle. You'd always settle on stroking his hair instead, watching his face as his jaw relaxed and sleep finally pulled at his features before sneaking away. Today, you had nowhere else to be so, you think, you may as well stay to cuddle.

"Yeah, Dee. We can cuddle."

You talk over room service - fancy toasted sandwiches and warm chocolate chip cookies that weren't on the menu, but Dieter had the audacity to ask for anyway. When you shower, he waits outside the door for you, restlessly stepping from foot to foot. You wait for him too, convincing him to leave the door open a little just in case, and he does so without question. A few minutes later he comes out, flushed red from the heat of the water and totally naked. You don't bat an eye.

Your skin still feels damp when you're climbing into bed, grateful to be on top of it and grit free now rather than under it. Dieter soon follows, crawling naked on all fours before tucking his legs under the sheets beside you.

You talk for a little longer, listening as Dieter sounds more and more slurred with sleep, before flicking the light off. He fidgets, shuffling closer to you until his arm wraps around your chest, resting his hand softly on your shoulder, his nose nuzzling into your neck on the pillow you now share. It's not comfortable, not for you, but the contented sounds coming from Dieter and the way his face twitches against your bare skin tells you he's holding back tears, that he needs this. You can be uncomfortable for one night, you think, just before he hooks his leg over yours, well and truly pinning you to the bed.

"Dee?"

"Yeah?"

"Your cock is on my leg."

"I know."

"Okay, well... G'night Dee."

"Night," he says straight into your ear, smacking his lips as he snuggles into your side, soft cock squished against your leg. And when, somehow, sleep ignores your discomfort and pulls you under barely a few minutes later, you swear you can feel Dieter press his lips to the bare skin of your neck.

[popcornforone]

PEDROTOBER 2024

I have never done this before & I know it’s technically a drawing challenge set up by @alyssamariag & @norththelemon but I was away on holiday & had some time to write, so I thought why not. Yes I should have worked on WIP & other things but you know this is gonna be fun. I’ve taken some liberties with some but you’ll understand why.

I will be updating this every day in October so stay for the that. Most of these are short with hints of smut but some are well you know all to well.

So please let me know peoples how you find these

Warnings before we start:- some of these fics will not be for those under the age of 18 so please read at your own discretion, also assume consent is used for most of these unless stated & swearing will be included in a few of these. Any other warnings will appear per fic

1) Dreamy (Mr Fantastic)

2) Bromance or Romance P1 (Dieter Bravo)

3) Only the Best (Agent Whiskey [nails prompt])

4) Unspoken (Silva)

5) Be a Good Girl (Detective Tim Rockford[Esquire prompt])

6) Bromance or Romance P2 (Dieter Bravo)

7) Home (Ezra)

8) Smothered (Mrs Flores & a Special guest[Corona Prompt])

9) Think Fink (Frankie Morales [Fink the Fox Prompt])

10) The Casual Campaign (Ted Garcia[Candid/ T-shirt Prompt])

11) Red (Max Phillips)

12) Pride (Marcus Moreno[Rainbow Trousers Prompt])

13) Speechless (Javi Gutierrez)

14) Domestic (Dave York [free choice])

15) Make Me A Match (The Materialist)

16) Laters Doll, Keep Smiling (Agent Whiskey)

17) Handy (Dave York[Arm Sling Prompt])

18) Smitten (Oberyn Martell)

19) Two Faced (Max Lord[SDCC Prompt])

20) I’ll Make an Exception (Frankie Morales)

21) Bromance or Romance P3 (Dieter Bravo[Curls Prompt])

22) The Wait (General Marcus Acacius [Gladiator II Prompt])

23) Safety (Din Djarin)

24) One Last Dance (Max Phillips [Sundance Prompt])

25) Laundry (Javier Peña)

26) Flying High (Javi Gutierrez [Vanity Fair Prompt])

27) Unlocked (Joel Miller [The Last Of Us Prompt])

28) OCTOBER (Marcus Pike [any Marcus Prompt]{part of the Marcus pike Diary})

29) Sweet Like Chocolate (Lucien Flores[The Uninvited Prompt])

30) Roses (Detective Tim Rockford[Awards Fit Favourite Prompt])

31) Spoilt (Mr Ben [SAG Awards Prompt])

[punkshort]

Thank you to everyone who participated in my writing challenge and reblogged/liked/commented on any of the works listed below!

➤ I will keep updating this list as more entries post

Joel Miller:

• Vacay Lover - Yacht Captain AU - @josephquinnswhore

• Come Fly with Me - Pilot AU - @punkshort

• Physical Therapy - Lifeguard AU - @eff4freddie

• Mr. Bakery Man - Baker AU - @honeyedmiller

Javier Peña:

• Orange Peel - Uber Driver AU - @captainredspade

Frankie Morales:

• Love in Hawaii - Tour Guide AU - @natasharomanoffsmotorcycle

• Water Cooler Courting - coworker AU - @crowandmousewritingco

• Hiding Place - best friend AU - @libraryofneith

• Neighborhood Watch - Neighbor AU - @joelalorian

• Poolside - Poolboy AU - @ghotifishreads

• Walking on Sunshine - Dog Walker AU - @sunshinehaze1

Dave York:

• The Prenup - Divorce Lawyer AU - @yxtkiwiyxt

• Lies, Excuses and Bullshit - Ex Boyfriend AU - @bitchesuntitled

• Doctor's Pet - Doctor AU - @evolnoomym

• Don't Move - Bodyguard AU - @almostfoxglove

• Every Breath You Take - Detective AU - @guiltyasdave

Dieter Bravo:

• Dieter's Sky High Brownie Delights - Chef AU - @pedges-world

• Bittersweet Love - Childhood Friend AU - @ozarkthedog

• Golden Girl - husband's best friend AU - @whocaresstillthelouvre

Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels:

• Sing for you Forever - Musician AU - @yopossum

• Forever - Groomsman AU - @morallyinept

• My Kink is Karma - Hitchhiker AU - @clawdeewritesfanfic

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Dieter Bravo's Christmas Special Merry Christmas @schnarfer!

In a shocking revelation... since I just acted like your Secret Santa had a question for you... I'm your Tent Pitchers Secret Santa and I couldn't be more excited to give you your gift! Getting to know you has been one of the best gifts I could get this year. Shout out to @mothandpidgeon for her eyes and ears and her fellow wingedness. Also, this is a sell on The Adventures of Owl, Moth & Mallardy. 🦉🦋🦆 Also big shout out to @devineconjuring for her beta work and support in this insanity where I make her read terribly formatted scripts. Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the ornaments! Now, please keep in mind the formatting is a bit wacky because the script format is NOT Tumblr friendly so I had to do screen shots for some scenes. TW: Some drug and alcohol use is in here. This is absolute insanity. I cannot stress this enough. It is Dieter after all.

Dieter takes his mark. The lights are way too bright. Who decided that he needed to be under so many bright fucking lights? 

He holds his mug of hot cocoa—and whiskey—and takes a drink that burns his throat. He swallows the fiery yet smooth liquid down and blinks his big doe eyes at Camera A. The one they put a picture of a scantily clad lady dressed like Santa on so he can remember it’s the main camera. 

Why did he ever agree to do something like this? He remembers the meeting a couple months ago, taking the elevator up to one of the top floors in a boring brutalist-style building smack dab in the middle of downtown Los Angeles. His team and the network’s shaking hands and comparing dick sizes and bank accounts as they planned to exploit the American capitalist dream, all in the name of holiday cheer. He was about to tell everyone no and to fuck off—until they dropped that they could get the Muppets. He’s always wanted to meet Kermit–he thinks he would be a positive influence in his life.  

So, Dieter Bravo agreed to do the Christmas special and signed his name on the contract.

Now he’s here in this itchy, hot sweater under these bright lights. 

The festive music fades out into a commercial break. Dieter rushes off stage behind the big, red velvet curtains to his dressing room. 

“How much time do I have?” He asks the stage assistant as he guzzles down a drink of cold water.

“You have to be on stage in seven minutes, Mr. Bravo. Radiohead is doing their cover of Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer, and then you’re doing the animal showcase.

“Right, right. Gotta pee,” Dieter says with a nod as he swings the bathroom door open.

“I’ll just uhh—leave you to it,” the shocked assistant says as Dieter pulls his pants down with zero shame. 

Ugh, he’s so tired. He knows just the thing that will help him. His own snow, glorious little snow that he keeps in a vial in his bag. 

One hit, one deep sniff, one nose tickle, and he’s GOLDEN. Until—

He steps out on stage and sees a gigantic owl. His eyes go wide, his pulse quickening—not just from his magic white powder.

He cautiously walks over to the friendly-enough-looking zookeeper and takes his spot, his big brown eyes darting back and forth from the owl to the exit sign.

“AND WE’RE BACK IN 5-4-3-2…1”

Fuck.

He stares wide-eyed at the camera. 

“Wel—welcome back to my special… it’s special. Guys, holy shit, there’s an owl. That’s a bird of prey. BIRDS. We all know all the birds died in 1986.” 

“Um. You’re wrong about the latter, but as for the former, you’re right. Owls are a bird of prey, very good!” The zookeeper answers. 

“I don’t trust birds, man,” Dieter says, leering at the wide-eyed owl with fear. “They can fly too far and they’re always listening. My mom told me that’s who Santa uses to watch over us during the year to make sure we’re being nice.”

“…okay,” the zookeeper replies, his smile faltering for a moment as he tries to adjust to Dieter's energy. “But owls are actually sagacious creatures. They help maintain the ecosystem by controlling rodent populations.”

Dieter leans closer and squints at the owl, totally cool with all the commotion surrounding it. “Yeah, well, that’s what they want you to think! I bet it’s just some kind of spy. You know? Like a furry little CIA agent with feathers.”

“Okaaaay. Let’s just… get back to how amazing owls can be,” the zookeeper says, trying to regain control of the segment. “This magnificent creature here is named Psyche. She’s a great horned owl and—”

“Great horned owl?” Dieter interrupts, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Does that mean she has horns? I thought only goats had those.” He shoots Psyche a sideways glance, who blinks lazily back at him.

“No horns, just ears that look like horns!” the zookeeper explains, trying hard to remain upbeat while Dieter spirals further into his conspiracy theories. “And Psyche—”

“More like ‘Psyche the Spy’s key,’” Dieter cuts in again. “What is she reporting back? ‘Hey Santa, this guy is weird?’”

“Uhh,” the zookeeper blinks at Dieter, then towards the director. 

Dieter leans into Psyche, feeling braver and braver the longer he’s near her. “What’s in your head, little horned one?”

Psyche moves her head, her large yellow eyes meeting his. 

“WITCH!” Dieter shouts, arms flailing as he runs to hide behind a large tree flocked with white snow, decorated with red and gold baubles and beautiful ornaments depicting animals. 

“CUT TO COMMERCIAL!” The exasperated director harshly whispers into his headset. “And send that zookeeper a giant bouquet of flowers tomorrow.” 

Dieter watches from next to the director as three of his childhood heroes read from a gilded Night Before Christmas book. Wow, Kermit the Frog is here–and he’s about to join him. 

This is it. Over forty years of fandom, and NOW–NOW–he gets to meet Kermit. His heart feels like it’s going to fly out of his chest with each step he takes across the stage towards his three heroes. 

Dieter is now only two steps away from the wall. Soon, he’ll be with them, able to hug and touch them. THE FUCKING MUPPETS. He moves to stand behind the wall—but his foot runs into something that lets out a soft oof.

He looks down. There’s an actual human man huddled behind the wall with—with their hand UP KERMIT’S ASS.

“Dude! What the fuck? What!? You sick fuck?! What is happening? GET YOUR HAND OUT OF KERMIT’S BUTT!” He shouts, yanking the puppet off of the man’s hand. 

“CUT!!! CUT CUT CUT SEND TO COMMERCIAL! CUT!” The director yells. “And send that puppeteer a giant bouquet of flowers tomorrow.”

“It’s okay, Kermit, I’ve got you,” Dieter cries into the floppy, green fabric. 

“Dieter,” the director gets his attention. “This was a terrible idea. Please, go get some rest. Prepare your team for the barrage of reporters who will be calling.”

“But, who’s going to finish the show?” Dieter asks, holding Kermit’s body closer to him. 

“We—we called in a replacement. Phoebe! Get out here!”

Phoebe Waller-Bridge walks out in a beautiful red dress, wearing black tights and black boots. Quite Fleabag coded. 

“I’m ready!” She cheerily announces.

“Wow,” Dieter says, enamored by her presence. “Yeah, you’ll be way better than me at this. I’m going to take a nap. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Dieter! Now, send in the hot priests to dance!”

Love you 🦉

[cherrycola27]

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 16: Executive Orders

After Bradley threatened to steal an Air Force One plane, it was like a fire was lit under Dante and the rest of the security team. Units were immediately moved. Boots would be on the ground in twelve hours, and forces would move in in less than twenty-four.

Bradley, Maverick, Penny, Jake, and Jaycee were on a plane to North Carolina. Bradley was on the phone with Nat and the rest of the Dagger Squad the entire time. He briefed them on how important this mission was and how they were there for air support and surveillance.

They all assured Bradley that they would do whatever it took to get you back.

After coordinating with local law enforcement, a command center was set up just outside the property line of the farm Preston has brought.

At 0700 hours, the Dagger Squad led by Captain Trace departed from the U.S.S. Bush in Virginia.

At 0900 hours, Phoenix made contact with Maverick, who, even though he wasn't flying, still wanted to be a part of the mission. He was corridinating from the ground along with Bradley.

"Mav, everything seems to be clear. There are no signs of movement around the perimeter. Daggers Two and Three, do you confirm?" Phoenix says.

"Confirm Dagger One. No signs of moment to the north." Coyote says. "South is clear too, Cap." Payback." Echos. "Copy that, Daggers. SEAL team Alpha, you are clear to move in from the north. Bravo team move in from the south. Air coverage will let you know if anything changes." Maverick radios.

Bradley grips the arms of the chair he is sitting in. "Mav—" He breaths out. "What if we're too late?"

"Bradley, stop. You can't think like that. She's going to be okay." Mav tries to comfort him.

"Sir. Some of us are going in behind the SEAL teams to provide support. We'll let you know as soon as the First Lady is secure." Dante tells Bradley.

"I want to go with you, Dante. I need to be there." Bradley urges. "Mr. President. With all due respect, we don't know what is waiting for us in that house. We don't know if the Baxter brothers are armed. I can not allow you to go. You need to stay here. It's safer." Dante says.

"Dante, do you enjoy being the head of the secret service?" Bradley asks him.

"Yes, sir." Dante responds.

"Would you like to continue to be the head of the secret service?" Bradley asks him. Dante nods.

"Do you think you can continue to be the head of the secret service if you tell me no, Dante?" Bradley states. Dante doesn't respond.

"I'm going with you. I'm the president, and I'm not asking you for permission, I'm telling you what I'm going to do." Bradley tells him.

Dante looks past him to Maverick, who just shakes his head. "Fine. But you need to stay in the SUV, sir." Dante sighs before the two of them exit.

Maverick continues to listen in to the Daggers flying above. "Maverick, there is movement in the northwest sector. Make sure the Alpha team is advised." Bob radios in. "Copy Bob. Alpha team, be advised there is movement on your left flank." Maverick relays the information.

"Copy that Admiral." The leader of the team replies.

"Alpha team, you are still clear for breech, but stay vigilant." Maverick warns them.

"No signs of moment near Bravo team, Mav." Fanboy states.

"Copy that Dagger Three. Bravo team be ready in case they try to escape in your direction." Maverick commands.

"Copy that, sir. Bravo team is ready."

"Sir, we have eyes on the building. The surrounding area is clear. Are we a go for extraction?" The captain of the Alpha team asks. Maverick sends up a silent prayer and plea to Goose and Carole before speaking. "You are a go for extraction."

....................

The sound of a door bursting and shouting jolts you awake. Voices fill the house, and you aren't sure what's going on. You're disoriented from the mental and physical torture Preston has been putting you through. You barely register him, uncuffing you and dragging you towards the door of the room. Once your mind catches up to the fact that your body is free, you attempt to fight him off. You claw and slap and punch at him, ignoring the pain in your limbs. But you're weak, and your effort seems useless.

A bright flash and a loud bang stun you. Your ears are ringing as white spots cloud your vision. You don't register the sea of uniformed men and women who fill the small room.

You're vaguely aware that they are yelling. Soon, a strong pair of arms wraps around you, and the adrenaline kicks in. You're determined to break free. You struggle like a crazied animal until they grab your shoulders and force you to look at them.

"Ma'am, my name is Lieutenant Xander Finley with the U.S. Navy SEALs. We are here to take you home." The young officer tells you. "H—home?" You stutter out, afraid this is some sick delusion your mind has concocted.

"Yes, Ma'am. You're safe now." He assures you. You collapse against his chest and cry as he and others escort you out. "Admiral Mitchell. We have her, sir. We've got the First Lady." Lieutenant Finley calls into his radio.

Maverick lets out the breath he has been holding and cheers. "Daggers, we have her." He tells the pilots who cheer.

He grabs the other radio and calls into. "Rooster, Mr. President, this is Maverick. Do you copy?" He asks.

"I copy Mav." Bradley says into the radio he has been holding onto for the past half hour as he waits for news. "They have her, Bradley. They've got your girl." Maverick smiles as he realys the news to Bradley.

"Thank you." Is all Bradley can manage to say as tears fill his eyes.

Dante and the rest of the secret service team are waiting with guns drawn. An ambulance is parked close by with a medical team in standby. No one knows what shape you're in.

Bradley exits the vehicle as the first SEALs start to make their way down the dirt road. He stands beside Dante, waiting to catch a glimpse of you.

He holds his breath as more uniforms emerge. They all seem in good spirits.

Then, it happens. He sees you. Two SEALs are helping you walk. Bradley breaks out into a sprint towards you, ignoring the yells of the people around him. He doesn't care. It's been eighteen days, twelve hours, and thirty-six minutes since he's held you in his arms. He doesn't want to was another second.

"Sweetheart." He gasps as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him. He let's go of the sob he was holding in as he feverishly kissed your hair. His large arms hold you snug to him, as his scent and fills your nostrils, enveloping you in a sense of safety and comfort.

"Bradley, Dearest." You mumble against his chest as you bury your face into him and cry.

Bradley held you close to his chest as you sobbed. He kissed the top of your head and stroked your hair as his arms tightened around you.

You pulled back to look at him. He cupped your face in his hands. You didn't miss the tick in his jaw as he took stock of you.

You were bloody and bruised and broken. His heart ached for you, knowing that you must be in so much pain right now. But through it all, you smiled at him. He smiled back at you, but it quickly faded as he caught sight of two members of the SEAL team escorting Preston towards your location.

"You piece of shit!" Bradley screamed as he released you and ran towards Preston. The men holding onto him didn't know what to do as Bradley charged at them. The jump from his side just as Bradley's fist made contact with the other man's face and knocked him to the ground.

"You fucking bastard!" Bradley raged as jumped on top of Preston and delivered blow after blow to his face. Everyone stood there frozen as they watched the scene unfold. No one was sure what to do, and no one moved to stop him.

"You son of a bitch! You tried to take her from me! You tried to take my everything from me!" Bradley screamed.

Bradley continued to hit Preston over and over again. He didn't stop when he heard the crunch of his nose breaking. He didn't stop when his knuckles were bruised and bloody. He didn't stop when Preston was no longer struggling to fight him off. He didn't stop when Maverick and Jake tried to pull him off because they were afraid Bradley would kill him.

He only stopped when you called out his name and grabbed his arm. You looked at him with tearful eyes. "Bradley—he's not worth it." You whispered.

Bradley sighed and shook his head. He knew you were right. He looked at the people who were around him before locking eyes with the captain of the SEAL teams. "Mr. President, sir, as far as I'm concerned, we didn't see anything. Mr. Baxter sustained these injuries as a result of resisting arrest and attempting to flee the scene. Everyone here agrees." The man speaks while others nodded their heads. "I wanted to let you know that Alexander Baxter surrendered peacefully and is willing to cooperate with us." He finished. Bradley nodded and thanked him for his efforts.

He quickly helped you over to the EMTs who were waiting for you. Bradley held your hand as they assessed and treated you. Maverick came over to comfort both of you. He offered you the radio that was connected to the Dagger Squad. Each of them cheered when they heard your voice, and you told them they were clear to head home. Bradley phoned Jake and Jaycee, who were waiting back at the makeshift headquarters and let them know you were alive and being transported to the nearest hospital.

He held your hand and whispered how brave and smart and strong you were the whole time. He looped his fingers with yours, and you placed both of them on your stomach. You shared a silent understanding and worry. Neither of you said anything, but you both knew what news could be waiting for you once you arrived at the hospital.

.....................

You felt like you had been waiting for hours once you were admitted to the hospital. They quickly set your broken fingers and broke arm that you had acquired. They treated the wounds on your face and iced it to help with the swelling. They also had to stich a laceration near your hairline. You would be able to hide it with your hair, but you joked with Bradley that the two of you would have matching face scars.

You were given more fluids because of dehydration and a liquid nutrition cocktail. Several vials of blood were drawn from you. Everything came back normal for you and your baby, but an obstetrician was needed to confirm

Soon, Dr. Fraser came in to perform an ultrasound and an exam. You and Bradley held your breath as you were waiting for something, anything to appear on that screen.

"Ah, right there. Do you see? There's Baby Bradshaw." Dr. Fraser smiled before clicking a few things and turning a dial. Soon, the whooshing sound of a heartbeat filled the room.

"Heartbeat is nice and strong. Baby seems to be in good shape, all things considered. You're measuring about twelve weeks and a few days, which puts you due around late January or early February. We'll know know for sure in a few more weeks." The doctor tells you.

You and Bradley breathe a sigh of relief as the doctor exits and gives the two of you some privacy.

"I'm so glad we—I got you back. Both of you. You're my everything, Sweetheart. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you." He says as he rests his hand on your belly. You grab his hand and bring his bruised knuckles to your lips and kiss them.

"You need to have someone look at these." You tell him. He rolls his eyes and tells you'll that he'll be fine.

You let out a yawn, and the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion fills your body. You're tired and weak, but you're terrified to close your eyes. Afraid that this is a dream and that if you fall asleep, Bradley will be gone when you wake up.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Bradley says. "Sleep, my love. I'll be right here when you wake up." He assures you. Another yawn escapes you as your eyelids become heavy. Bradley strokes your forehead as sleepover takes you.

He sits in the hospital room and watches the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. He sends up a silent thank you to whatever higher power it was that brought you and his child back to him. He also thanks his mom and dad because he knows that Goose and Carole were definitely watching over you.

He lets out the breath he has been holding as he squeezes your hand. He takes your rings out of his pocket. He'd put them in there when you'd gotten to the hospital. He slipped them back on your fingers. His thumb traces over the bands as he thinks to himself that the two of you really are better together.

The long awaited rescue is here! Hope you guys enjoy it!

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lewmagoo @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby @wkndwlff @dakotakazansky

[ac-19]

Marry Me - T. Sawyer (Bravo 4)

Summary: you never expected it to happen until it did. In the middle of the battlefield.

We were trapped. There was gunfire coming in on either side of us, and I was running extremely low on ammo, which is why Trent was currently doing most of the shooting. This was not what I was expecting when I agreed to roll with Bravo while Clay was out with an injury. 

"Bravo 4, Alpha 3 come in."

"Bravo 1 this is Alpha 3, we're pinned down."

"Copy Alpha 3. We're heading your way now."

"Copy."

"What's the plan?"

"Run like hell."

I chuckled, and Trent looked back at me for a second over his shoulder before he focused his attention back on shooting at the bad guys. 

"What?"

"There's no way we're making it out of here you know that right? Unless Jason can pull off some miracle we're outnumbered and outgunned."

I saw a figure run across the corner and come at us so I quickly lifted my gun and fired off a shot landing it square in between his eyebrows. 

"Do you trust me?"

"With my life you know that."

"Then trust me here."

"Okay."

"Stay close to me and run when I say so."

I nodded to myself.

"Now."

I quickly turned around and we both bolted and I had no idea where we were running to until we were in the empty building across the street. We ran up the stairs pushing as much debris as we could behind us until we reached the top. 

"See I told you to trust me."

I smirked.

"Never doubted you for a second."

Trent scoffed.

"Yeah right. How's your ammo?"

"Low."

What sounded like an explosion came from downstairs and I looked up at Trent.

"We're not alone."

"Get behind me and hide."

I scoffed.

"Like hell I'm going to let you fight these guys alone."

"(Y/N) for once can you listen to me. It's my life over yours always, don't you get that?"

"You know I technically outrank you right? I don't have to take orders from you. And by the way this is not the time to be noble Trent Sawyer. I love you and I am not going to let you take these guys on by yourself because I would never forgive you if you died and I lived."

Trent smiled.

"I love you so fucking much (Y/N)."

"Cut the sappy shit Sawyer, we have some bad guys to fight."

Trent smiled as he planted a quick kiss on my lips before we took our position hiding from the guys coming up the stairs. We heard more gunfire, which meant there were a lot more people down there than we thought, and I gripped my gun a little tighter. With the ammo we had left, there was no chance we were going to win this fight. 

"Meet you on the beach?"

Trent nodded. We had this saying that if either one of us didn't make it home from a mission we would wait for each other at the beach. We knew this was a lose lose situation and the chances of us making it out alive were very slim. The shooting got closer and closer and before we knew it bullets were flying our way. We fought back for as long as we could but there were just too many of them.

"I'm out."

"Me too."

Trent quickly grabbed onto my hand, and we started running dodging bullets, trying our best to get away. We made it out of the building, but we quickly found out that there were more of them out onto the street.

"Incoming."

Trent swiftly covered my body with his as a grenade exploded just a few feet from us. More gunfire erupted, and we tried our best to take shelter behind some of the debris. 

"You know if we get out of here we should get married."

I chuckled through the tears that were now streaming down my cheeks. 

"If we get out of this alive, we can go straight to the courthouse when we land back in Virgina Beach."

"I'm gonna hold you to that Mrs. Sawyer."

I leaned forward and planted my lips on Trent's. If these were our last moments together, all I wanted was for him to know how much I loved him. After a failed engagement for me and a failed marriage for him, I never thought I'd hear those words come out of his mouth. We had known each other for years before we actually got together. Our unofficial first date was after I was stood up and went to the Bulkhead to blow off some steam and ended up talking with Trent the whole time. Metal called it that night, that'd we'd be together, and three years later, here we were. More explosions made us pull apart, and I sighed out of relief when I saw Ceberrus running towards us. 

"Alpha 3, Bravo 4 can you pinpoint your location?"

"Bravo 2 this Alpha 3. Follow Cerb."

"Copy that Alpha 3."

Soon enough Ray, Brock and Metal were standing around us. Brock took a hold of Ceberrus while Metal handed me some ammo and Ray handed Trent some. I quickly reloaded and wiped my face of the tears.

"Bout damn time."

"You know I wasn't about to let my best damn gun fighter die a horrible death. Oh and had to save Trent too.

I chuckled.

"Can you repeat that so I can record it?"

"Not gonna happen kid."

"Let's get to exfil."

I nodded, and we followed Ray's lead as we headed towards the exfil point. Jason and Sonny were mending the exfil point, and he smiled when he saw us in tow of Metal, Ray and Brock. 

"Good to have you guys back."

I chuckled.

"You always take us to the nicest places Jason."

"You always volunteer to come."

"Yeah well this might be my last ride with Bravo."

"Oh come on now, I didn't think you'd scare that easily."

Some gunfire was heard in the distance and I shook my head. 

"Let's get the hell out of here."

"I second that."

I smiled as we all climbed into the helicopter and smiled at Trent as we took off. The team knew about our relationship, even Blackburn knew, but he always looked the other way when I volunteered to work with Bravo. If we do get married then that complicates things where it concerns us working with each other. I felt a small tap on my leg and I looked over at Trent.

"Where's your head at right now?"

"Just grateful that we didn't die."

He nodded. 

"Yeah that was close."

I nodded as I laid my head on his shoulder as we flew back towards the airstrip that was going to bring us back to Virginia Beach. Once we were all back on the plane I changed back into some civilian clothes which consisted of a pair of blue jeans, a long sleeve shirt that I "borrowed" from Trent's closet and some white converses. Everybody was exhausted so we all tried our best to get some sleep. After some tossing and turning on my part I decided to get up and grab some water. 

"Can't sleep?"

I shook my head as I turned to face Trent. 

"Adrenaline's still going. You know from almost dying today."

Trent nodded. 

"Yeah. Listen about what I said.."

I nodded. 

"You know I get it. It was said in the heat of the moment when we thought we were gonna die. I'm not gonna hold you to it."

He nodded as he pulled something out of the front pocket of his jeans and I swallowed the lump in my throat when I realized it was a ring box.

"And that answer right there is exactly why I've been hauling this thing around with me for weeks now waiting for the perfect moment and in reality there's never gonna be a perfect moment because we leave on spin up and deployments and we never know if we're going to make it back home. You're my best friend (Y/N) and I can't imagine not being married to you another day."

I nodded as tears brimmed my eyes. 

"I was really hoping you weren't gonna go back on what you said because I really want to marry you Trent Sawyer."

Trent smiled as he stepped forward and put his hands on my hips and planted his lips on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and we kind of got lost in the moment until Metal cleared his throat. 

"Excuse me, I just need to go to the bathroom to go puke after witnessing that."

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Aristocats AU. Adam and Lucifer meet for the first time. Most of it is just Lucifer flirting though XD)

Lucifer entered the countryside, singing a song on his guitar. He didn't expect much from this morning, honestly... he just wanted to get away from his overflown house with his 7 older siblings... but his luck seemed to turn when he hit near old barn, where he met a really cute guy...

As if to try his luck, Lucifer approached him. The other man chuckled, starting to clap his hands at the end of his song.

Adam : Oh, bravo. Quite a talent you've got there... 

Lucifer : Why. thank you! It's not often I come across audience in this part... And what might your name be?

Adam : My name is Adam.

Lucifer : Adam... as if the first man himself decided to grace me with his presence... 

He smiled at the other man, taking the brunette's hand, to kiss it.

Lucifer : My... and those eyes of yours. Ooh. your eyes are like gold, sparkling so bright. You know, they make the morning radiant... and light.

Adam blushed at the compliment, letting out a chuckle of his own, starting to wave his free hand over his face. God, when did that get so hot around here? He could swear he heard giggling from behind himself.

Adam : Oh, stop that... you're just saying that... but I must admit, it's very poetic, though it is not quite Shakespeare.

Lucifer, chuckled : Of course not. That's pure Morningstar, baby. Right off the cuff... I got a million of 'em.

Adam: Oh, no more, please. I need to concentrate at the moment... I've gotten myself into a quite a situation here...

Lucifer : Situation? Oh, then I just must help! Such a gorgeous man... uh, damsels in distress is my specialty! Now what's the trouble this gentleman was pulled into?

Adam : Well... to be fair, I have no idea how we ended up here, but my destination right now is to back to the town, back home... So if you would be willing and show me the way.

Lucifer : Show you the way?

Lucifer smiled, before taking the man's hand, pulling him closer.

Lucifer : Oh, perish the thought! We shall fly to your home on a magic carpet... side by side... with the stars as our guide. Just we two.

???? : Ooh, that would be wonderful!

Lucifer and Adam broke out from their moment, before looking down, seeing a small blonde girl staring at them with bright purple eyes.

Lucifer : Three?

Another girl, of same age, came out, but with nearly silver hair and blue eyes. She waved to Lucifer, giving him a cute smile.

Lucifer : Four..?

Last and third, a girl with short white hair came out, but her eyes were as if she was staring into Lucifer's soul.

Lucifer : Five?!

Adam looked at the girls, before chuckling over Lucifer's reaction.

Adam : Yes, Mr. Morningstar... These are my sisters. Please introduce yourselves, girls.

Lilith : Hi, I'm Lilith.

Emily : I'm Emily.

Lute : And I'm Lute.

Lucifer looked between the four, before smiling at the kids.

Lucifer : Oh, how sweet!

@adambrainrot

Wow Lucifer you charmer lol XD

I love this it's so cute!

[blade-liger-4ever]

Just saw this last night, and HOO-BOY, I LOVED IT!

So, I won't really get into the plot, at least for now, because I just gotta get the cast talked about first.

The casting of Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief is perfect! Pierce Brosnen nailed Chiron, and I get the feeling he would have stolen more scenes if he'd had more screentime (the moment he said "Are you kidding? This is the best part", he became one of my favorite background characters.) The kid doing Percy made me really like the character; I never read the books until recently, and even then I skipped straight to the second arc where the Romans are involved, but even with this current book where Percy is a POV character, I did and do not care for him as much as Movie Percy. Kid was great, ten outta ten acting.

Annabeth struck me as far more interesting in the movie than the books. Heck, even before I read from her viewpoint she didn't interest me at all; in the movie, she's rather arrogant and snobbish, but it works in the character's favor and makes her far more compelling. The actress did great, and props to her for endearing Annabeth to me: that was a feat.

Grover was THE BEST of the trio, I will not take criticism. He protected Percy, took everything in stride, and figured out what they were dealing with on the fly easily - all without being Mr. Perfect and still being humorous (e.g. when they leave Medusa's severed and sunglasses-laden head in the hotel sink, Grover responds, "Guys, really? I cannot pee with her staring at me." Top notch comedy, I need more films with this actor.)

Sean Bean was good as Zeus. I don't have much to say about his part, honestly; he wasn't there much, but 1 he made Zeus tolerable, and 2 he had the most presence out of all the actors, with Kevin McKidd being a close, and I mean close, runner up.

Speaking of, Kevin McKidd, AKA Fenn Rau from Star Wars Rebels (and the big draw of this film for me), was. Absolutely. AWESOME.

And he only really had ten minutes in the film!

Seriously though, he played Poseidon so well. You could tell he was thousands of years old, still in his prime, and resisting every instinct to run over, hug Percy, and never let him go when they were within a hundred feet of each other. Even when all you could get from him in the movie was his voice, the care and urgency for his son's safety carried through beautifully.

The other actors - Hades, Persephone, the mortal actors in the background - they were all equally great. They made the characters likable, despicable, or somewhere in between. Bravo, people!

And then there's the second draw of this film for me: Jake Abel as Luke, son of Hermes, and the true lightning thief.

If there was ever anything that showed how much wasted potential the writers of Supernatural had when consistently throwing Jake Abel out the window after having him appear like six times in the show, this film was it.

He made Luke funny, likable, and mischievous, garnering the love of the audience, and then broke the hearts of those who liked him when he turned around and revealed he was an angry, hurt young man who wanted to overthrow the Olympians and take over in their stead in order to "right" their wrongs of being neglectful jerks (the only one who wasn't actually completely neglectful on purpose was Poseidon. My guy was trying his hardest to stay in touch with Percy and did everything he could to help him out.)

Jake Abel, I'm sincerely sorry you never got the next four films that should have come after Sea of Monsters, and even more sorry that you got so dissed in Supernatural. Consider this post of mine a letter of apology.

Okay, plot discussion time - well, at least the gushing of how it was handled.

So, setting up the whole war between the Olympians actually doesn't strike me as horribly handled. Yes yes, there's more "concrete" reasons for it in the book, but for the public who have never heard of these books, it's not all that farfetched. I mean, public opinion of Hades is always bad (I'm sorry Hades, you really don't deserve that rep), Poseidon doesn't particularly care for drama, and his mood tends to switch on a dime, and Zeus? Please, we all know how much of a jerk-butt he is. Be honest: Is it really all that hard to believe Zeus declaring war if his master bolt isn't returned in two weeks? And as for him jumping to the conclusion of Poseidon's son stealing it - just look at the opening scene of the film. The way Poseidon got physical that fast, and moments before was practically spitting venom at Zeus for banning him from seeing his son, it's no wonder Zeus thought Poseidon would've done something to make Percy steal it from him.

Now before you come at me, let me put it this way.

Think of yourself in Zeus' mindset. You're a capricious jerk, who won't take the blame, don't care for your offspring at all, and are constantly at odds with your brothers over power/territory struggles. Using your kid is gonna be as natural as breathing to you, so why wouldn't you assume your brothers would do the same? Hmm?

Now, the family and school drama was done excellently as well, especially that moment where one of the kids at the school grabs another and slams him against a locker while Percy and Grover make tracks. Gabe was perfectly detestable, and it was immensely satisfying to see Grover wallop his butt. The race to Camp Half-Blood was done well, although the Chevelle didn't deserve that fate (I will, however, accept the obvious fact that it only got dinged up and lost the hood. A modern day car would have exploded on impact with the ground and sent shrapnel everywhere.)

The scenes with the camp were good, especially how it was quickly yet subtly established that everyone there had lived there for some years and were already pros at combat and other physical activities. Hades' entrance was great, the progression across the country was well-paced, and Luke's help throughout was done neatly and in a manner where the audience only got a glimmer of resentment from him before the bolt was found in the shield.

Speaking of, the scene in the Underworld is severely underappreciated. The effects were grand, the acting well-done, and the positioning of the Underworld in Hollywood is genius on many levels.

The fight scene in Manhatten was good, though I confess Luke's aerial combat was a bit spotty at the beginning. Otherwise it was great, and the first show of Percy's powers was magnificent. No joke, that CGI and other effects are gonna hold up for another thousand years.

Olympus was beautiful, quite honestly, and I love 1 the sheer difference in scale they showed between the humans and the Olympians, and 2 how Poseidon "sheds" water to shrink and appear more normal. More effects that are spectacular and underrated.

The last scene - the return to camp and training - not much to say, other than that it felt really organic, natural, and beautiful. All in all, a great film that's unfairly hated on.

Okay, now for some personal gushing on my part.

So, I'm sure you guessed by now that I was here for Kevin McKidd, mostly because I knew him first in Star Wars Rebels. This is my first time watching him onscreen, but it was amazing and captivating on his part. Not only did he make me believe that he was the Greek god of the seas, but he made me feel Poseidon's pain of not being with Percy and his desire to connect with him, and he certainly made me believe that Poseidon would do anything in his power to help Percy, no matter what loophole abuse he had to commit lest raising Zeus' ire.

As for the dynamic itself, I'm so so happy.

I love how Poseidon risked so much to physically be at the museum while Percy was across the street from him, just to make sure that he could both warn Percy completely and see him in case something went wrong. And although it's a sore spot for the fans, I love how Chiron shows Percy his own little home at Camp Half-Blood, and outright states that Poseidon built it for him. Just Percy, no one else; that's like a father making a specific room for his son, and the fact that they allowed Poseidon to be shown to love Percy more than anything through little things like that is enough to make me burst in happiness.

I loved how Poseidon guided Percy to the water to heal him and give him a second wind in Capture the Flag, and that he woke up Percy and refused to let him be lulled back into the Lotus Eaters' trap until he was sure Percy was back to his senses and able to get out on his own. And when Percy's in the hall of Olympus, Poseidon is practically begging Zeus, his younger brother, to let him speak with Percy, because he knows a chance like this won't arise again for a while. And the sheer relief in his face when Zeus allows it, man, I could've died at that.

The talk between father and son, it was beautiful. It makes sense that Percy has some remaining resentment toward Poseidon for leaving, for not kicking out his stepfather, and the fact that Poseidon doesn't even hold it against him is wonderful. The moment he explains why he couldn't see Percy, and the second Percy realizes the law forbidding the Olympians from seeing their children had been passed because Poseidon loved him so much he was abandoning his duties is golden. And Poseidon telling him that he was always watching Percy and helping him as best he could, and how he promised to always be there for Percy, even in his thoughts and dreams - beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

And the icing on the cake? You remember that I mentioned a training round at camp at the end? It's between Percy and Annabeth, and they're on a hill, but guess what can be seen below the hill?

The lake.

Where Poseidon can watch his son training, and has an easier time of making contact with him.

This movie is a masterpiece, and if you're not a fan of the books and have never seen it before, please, go give Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief a watch! You won't regret it!

[sl-newsie]

Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 3: Whatever It Takes

The next day I have to head back to MI6 for one last training session, where I run into Bond.

“You’re off to Hong Kong now?” I pant as I dab my sweaty face off.

Bond gives a stiff nod. “And you, little Levie, are off to Ireland. I’m guessing Q treated you well, Mrs. White?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Haha, very funny. Did you think I’d like him because he’s younger?”

The older agent simply shrugs and the gleam in his eye is undisguisable.

“Bravo, Bond. You’ve still got a sense of humor.”

We keep walking to the office space in a comfortable silence. “Joking aside, congratulations on your first solo mission,” Bond says sincerely. “It’s a big moment for you. Still, I’ll be sad to not have you with me. You’re one of my favorite partners.”

I playfully punch his shoulder. “Because I keep your ego in check?”

“Because you’re the only one I treat like a sister.”

I grin. “Aw. Big brother’s going to miss me.”

Once we’ve gotten to the office center we both spot Q, Eve, and M waiting for us.

“Say goodbye, Bond.” M instructs. “This may be the last time you two see each other.”

Bond and I exchange looks. I must say I am nervous about being on my own, but Bond’s prepared me well.

“Good luck, Bond. The whole force is counting on you, no pressure.”

“Goodbye, Levie.” Bond gives my hand a sturdy shake. “You don’t need luck, because I know you’ll do brilliant. You’re still young, but healthily spirited. Just don’t let your heart get in the way.”

With that, he follows M down the hall and for the first time we go our separate ways. 

“Is he still mad at me for shooting him?” Eve asks.

“Hasn’t mentioned it, at least not to me. But I do know one thing:” I look up with a slightly defiant demeanor. “If I had been on that mission with Bond, I would have jumped off that bridge after him. I don’t care what M says, I don’t leave a man behind.” I look at Q and ask: “When do I leave for Ireland?”

“In one hour. I will quickly brief you on a few last minute updates on your way to the airport.”

“You won't be accompanying me, husband?” I bring up the repeating joke as we start walking out.

It either flies over his head or he ignores it. “I don’t like flying.”

“It’s rather accelerating,” I comment as we enter a company SUV. “You should try it again. It makes you think.”

Q sets his face straight and begins looking through some paper files in his bag. “I can do much better thinking at home with my cats.”

Huh. Nerd guy who sits at a computer desk with cats. Who knew?

“You seem like a cat person. I respect that.”

Q accepts my statement with a small grin. “At least there’s one person who does.”

The quick trip through the airport flashes by, and soon enough I’m seated in first class and headed off to Ireland. From what Q tells me, I am to penetrate a secret lab and retrieve a formula for a new type of cyanide. Not as extreme as Bond’s assignment, but I’m still excited. Over the flight, Q apparently took the liberty of placing a few audio books in my bag.

“Hello, 0011. Or Levie, as Bond called you. I still prefer Mrs. White. I’ve recorded a few history books to entertain you for the duration of your flight, because I picture you as more of a history fan rather than a science geek such as myself. Your options are: The American Revolution, World War II, or the Spanish Civil War.”

I chose World War II and am surprised to find that I actually enjoy Q lecturing about history. Something about his voice makes it seem like a hobby rather than a chore. Maybe it’s because he’s younger? Why am I becoming friends with my Quartermaster?

In an hour I arrive in Dublin and meet up with my contact at a local pub called The Cobblestone. He’s a local Paddy with a thick accent, who tells me that the best way for me to sneak into the lab is through the sewer tunnels much to my distaste.

“What I’m wondering is why a lass like you is charged with this mission,” the man thinks out loud.

I down the whiskey I’ve ordered and narrow my eyes. “Don’t underestimate a 00 agent.”

Nighttime falls and my nerves are a jumbled mess. Unlike Bond I don’t always dress in fancy attire for missions. Instead I’m sporting a long-sleeved black jumpsuit with dress flats. Less stylish, but effective. I station myself a few yards from the sewer entrance outside the lab. After I put in my earpiece both M and Q’s voices ring in my ear.

“Voice check, please,” Q requests.

“Good evening lady and gentleman. Tonight’s forecast calls for one 00 agent and the loss of one cyanide formula. Possible celebration may be sighted in the morning.”

“Very cute,” Q replies dryly. “I expect you’re dressed for the occasion?”

I smirk from behind the tree I’m using to hide. “Wouldn’t you like to know, dear?”

“Can we cut the jibber jabber and focus?” M states harshly. “0011, are you in position?”

My agent instincts kick in and I stiffen up. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. You are clear to proceed.”

Thankfully the sewer entrance doors aren’t locked, but I wish it didn’t smell so putrid. It seems luck is on my side because there are no lights to expose my location. However there is one security camera.

“Q, I’d very much appreciate it if you could disable the camera.”

On the other end I hear the nerd chuckle. “Oh? I thought you liked drawing attention to yourself.”

“Just kill the bloody camera!”

He does so without another word and soon the blinking light on the camera dies. I keep scrolling through the checklist in my mind of everything I need to accomplish, deciding that I can continue on. Once I scale down the ladder into the inky darkness I switch on my night vision contact lenses. I have a few rat friends to accompany me but other than that there’s no security here. 

“Now go to your right for about 50 paces, then turn left,” Q voices in my ear.

“0011, there appears to be a maximum of only 5 guards in the area you will be infiltrating,” M adds. 

Only 5? Bond and I have a record of taking out 50 in 10 minutes. But a rookie mission is a rookie mission.

Now I’ve arrived at a small door. Still no sign of trouble.

“This leads to the boiler room,” Q informs. “No human heat signatures detected.”

There’s just one problem: the door’s lock is far beyond crackable. Normally Bond is the one for cracking locks while I stand watch, but it’s time to be adaptable. Somewhere in my pocket- I think there’s…

“0011, what’s taking so long?” M asks.

“Trying to bust the lock. Ever heard of liquid nitrogen?”

I take out a small vial and tilt it to apply the cold substance over the lock. After a few moments the metal freezes over, and after a hard kick it shatters to the floor.

“All done.”

I burst through the door holding my pistol and search for any threats in the boiler room. Only a few leaky faucets. 

“We can’t scramble all the cameras in the building. You should be on their radar now. If anyone asks, you are here for an appointment with Dr. Lambert,” M says. “Mention Project Ares.”

“Seems like a rather late appointment,” I comment as I make my way up the stairs and out of the room. “Where to now?”

Q speaks up. “Turn left, then take the elevator to the 5th level.”

Right as rain, the elevator is right down the hall. Unfortunately I’m not the only one riding it. There’s one older man and a younger woman who appears to be a secretary.

“Going up?” The woman asks.

“Yes, please.”

I hope for there to be no conversation on our ascent but am proven unlucky.

“That’s a lovely necklace,” the man comments.

“Thank you. It’s a gift from my husband.” I finger the blue pendant, letting it comfort my nerves.

"You're not wearing a ring?"

"I'm afraid I lost it a few weeks ago."

“Where do you work?” the secretary inquires.

I keep a steady smile. “I don’t work here. I’m visiting on account of my boss to visit Dr. Lambert.”

This surprises the older man. “Really? I didn’t think Norman took appointments this late.”

“It’s a special case. For Project Ares.”

This quiets both people and we ride the rest of the way in silence. Obviously Project Ares is a big deal. The elevator drops me off at the 5th floor and I give a wave goodbye to the two employees. 

“I’m on the 5th level.”

“Good. Now go straight until you see a door marked X,” Q says.

I walk a few feet down and sure enough there’s a door with a large X on the front. You’d think this project would be hidden better. This lock may pose another issue because it’s activated by a fingerprint-

“Miss? What are you doing here?” A voice asks.

I keep my cool and pivot to find a man in a lab coat walking towards me. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, with light brown hair and a little stubble. Must be a scientist.

“Ah, yes. I was looking for Dr. Lambert. It’s about Project Ares.”

The man’s face lights up. “You must be the reporter! Yes yes, come in!”

He strides past me and swipes a card to open the door, gesturing for me to follow him. This seems too easy. The room I enter is obviously a lab, one filled with many different vials and chemistry equipment.

“Are you in?” M asks in my ear.

“I had a little help,” I whisper to keep discreet from the man behind me. “What am I looking for?”

“A test tube full of the new formula,” Q says. “Any amount of a sample. Who helped you in?”

“One of the project scientists. He thinks I’m a reporter.”

“Over here!” The man in question beckons me over to a table that displays a rack of test tubes. “My name is Watson, by the way. Daniel Watson in case you’re going to include me. But I don’t care for fame, I only want to help with the progress of science.”

Aw. I’m beginning to feel sad for stealing from you.

“Is this the new cyanide formula I heard about?” I try to sound unbearably dumb.

“Indeed it is! This is our company’s most recent accomplishment, one we boys in the lab are extremely proud of. Its symptoms are quick to take over the body’s cardiovascular system and can go undetected through drug screens.”

Thank God I have a pencil and small pad of paper in my pocket so I actually look like a reporter. I write down all highlights of his lecture while side-eyeing the tubes within an arm's reach. So close! 

“Do you have any other questions?”

I zoom back to focus on Watson, trying to think of a way to sneak a vial… What would Bond do? Huh. There’s no question about what he would do. Whatever it takes to make them lower their guard.

“No, I don’t think so,” I use a more airy voice as I bat my eyelashes at the scientist. “Thank you so much, Watson! My boss will love hearing about this!” I put away my pad of paper and saunter over to the blushing man. “How can I ever repay the favor?”

He shakes his head frantically. “No, that’s not necessary. Achievement through science is it’s own reward.”

Now I’ve got him trapped against the counter. “That’s not always enough. Maybe just one kiss?”

Before he can decline I press a firm kiss to his lips, rendering him speechless. In a split-second I look to see that he has his eyes closed, right as I slip a vial into my chest pocket. When I pull away, Watson still can’t find words to say.

“Thanks again, Watson!” I wave as I strut out. “Q, M, I have it. Ready for a quick exit before they ring the alarm.”

“Right. This time you’re going to use the stairs, a few paces down to your right,” Q states.

Is it just me or is he acting a bit differently?

“Everything alright, Quartermaster?” I ask as I begin my descent.

“Peachy. Will you please continue with the mission?”

“I thought I was. Did I do something wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, which just makes me even more curious. By now I’m at the 2nd floor-

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Bad news, folks. Watson turned traitor on me.”

“Who?” Q asks with disgust.

“Doesn’t matter. Right now I have to get out.”

“I just detonated an explosive on the south side of the building to cover your exit window. You're welcome.”

My eyebrows raise in surprise. “Thanks very much, chap. Remind me to repay the favor someday.”

“B squad, you check the bottom levels. We’ll get the upper floors!” Voices shout from below.

Uh-oh. Looks like I’ll have to take a detour to the ground floor. I make a dash for the exit and find multiple security guards scurrying all throughout the hall. The lobby is only a few yards away-

“Miss! Quick, there’s been a security breach. You must get evacuated and head home immediately,” one man in a suit informs me.

I play dumb. “Oh my goodness! What happened?”

“A bomb exploded at the end of the property so we’re evacuating all staff. Now hurry!”

Pretending to be in a jumbled panic like everyone else, I flock down the hall and am almost there-!

“Hold up! Where’s your badge?” One guy stops me just before I reach the lobby. A college jock if I ever saw one.

“Well, you see sir,” I bat my eyelashes. “I was having a private meeting with one of your employees that shall go unnamed. That’s how my business works. Technically I’m not supposed to be here, but he needed some stress relief, if you catch my drift. Do you think you could possibly look the other way and let me slip out?”

Lord save my soul. I can’t even register my own words as they pour almost too easily from my mouth. I really have learned a lot from Bond. And it must work, because the young guard is now looking at me with a new-found hunger.

“I dunno about that, but I’ll let it slide if you use that pretty mouth of yours to give me a little loving.”

It’s all I can do not to vomit. “Very well.” I take his hand and lead him to a nearby closet, locking the door behind me. “One kiss, one favor? Sounds enchanting.” I give him a blunt punch to the head and he drops to the ground, out cold. “But I’ve already had my date for the evening.”

I hide him behind a crate and sprint for the lobby, speeding through the door into the cool night air towards the rendezvous point for my getaway. Once I’ve cleared the hill and the lab is out of sight I relax. Finally! I’ve done it! My first mission-!

Bam!

The shot rings out and I stop dead in my tracks. The blood is already dripping down my pant leg. I’ve been lucky to have been shot only twice before, both in the arm. But this is my first leg injury. And I don’t like it.

The guard who’s holding the gun is standing a short distance behind me. “I won’t miss next time. You seemed unfamiliar when I saw you earlier. Now tell me, who are you? And don’t bother trying to sell the whole reporter scheme. Tell me who you’re working for!”

Bond wouldn’t have gotten into this. Think, think! 

I kneel down and make it seem as if I’m surrendering, then-

“Ah!”

My knife, Mrs. White, lands perfectly in the center of the guard’s chest. Thanks, Q. He topples over and, with what force I can muster with a shot leg, I jog over and knock him out cold. That’s one check off the list. But my adrenaline is wearing off and the injury’s starting to get to me.

“Q? M? Anybody copy?” I grunt as I keep walking, wanting to get to the rendezvous point as quickly as possible.

“Q here. Sorry about that, got caught up with Bond’s radio call. What’s up?”

“Agent wounded. I’ve been shot in the thigh, losing blood fast. How far away is the car?”

It’s like I flipped a switch when I said ‘shot,’ because now Q’s manner has definitely changed.

“I see your position. Keep going straight for another 50 yards, and whatever you do don’t fall asleep. Is your head spinning?”

“Starting to. I’m not sure if the bullet nicked the femoral artery, but I’m fresh out of tourniquets.”

“Stay calm, keep your breathing steady. Do you think you can last?”

I try to give a laid-back chuckle but it turns into a short coughing fit, bringing up specs of blood on my hand. “You should know, Quartermaster, that my intentions as a 00 agent keep me motivated to keep going until I literally die? Yes, I can last.”

Q is quiet for a time, leaving me to notice how heavy my breathing has gotten. My leg feels numb now, which cannot be a good thing.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” I answer in a tired voice. “Would you mind chatting with me so I can ignore death?”

“I’d think that you would have kicked death in the crotch by now,” Q jokes lightheartedly. “You’re almost there, just a few more yards. Don’t mess up, or you’ll be the first agent to die under my watch.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m going to rub my victory in your face when I get back.”

“There’s the 0011 I remember,” he groans. “Just get back alive.”

I’d really like to, but my head’s starting to feel even more dizzy. So much for a flawless first solo mission. Is this really how I’m going to go out? Slowly bleeding to death? I’d hoped my death would be something dramatic. Should I say goodbye to everyone? It would mean I’m accepting defeat, but I’d be disappointed not say farewell to my few friends. Bond, Eve, the other 00s, M- Q? Is Q my friend? That would be the first time I’ve been friends with my Quartermaster. It’s not like he’s unlikeable, only annoying at times. Annoying, witty, attractive-

The new thought makes me go into another coughing fit. Q, attractive? My blood loss is clearly making me delusional. He’s mildly cute at best. Wait- no. Why am I cogitating about his appealing looks? Just keep focused and stay alive!

“Q, I’m starting to see spots.” I look behind and see a pathetic trail of blood behind me.

“You’re almost there. Do you see the car yet?”

“I see a bright light-”

“No! Not that one-!”

“Just kidding. Yes, I see it.”

Q sighs. “Shut your trap and get in the bloody car before I tell them to leave you behind.”

I try to laugh but end up spitting up more blood. Now the driver of the black Jeep sees me limping towards her and she rushes over to help.

“Are you 0011?”

“Yeah. Or at least I’ll stay that way if I can stay alive.”

“Stay calm, miss! I’m going to get the stretcher-”

“Forget it. If I can walk this far I can walk 10 more feet to the back of the car.”

The driver quickly opens the rear food and I climb inside with what little strength I have left. As soon as I’m seated my eyes begin to droop and she panics.

“No, no sleeping! We need to get your wound dressed…”

Her words are drowned out by my building fatigue, and soon all I can hear is my faint heartbeat as I start to drift off. So close… Maybe if I wake up after this I’ll copy Bond and top it off with a drink…

[doofnoof]

In Defense Of Mrs. Westenra:

This is going to sound absolutely insane, but I understand why Mrs. Westenra removed the garlic from Lucy's room, and think it was a genuine attempt at kindness rather than a selfish act done entirely foolishly, though regardless of her motives she's still doomed poor Lucy to death.

Let me explain: we're seeing some masterful use of dramatic irony here, I almost wish I could buy Bram Stoker a drink for how positively stunningly he's put the dramatic irony into motion, because it is absolutely sickening and heartwrenching knowing that Lucy is well and truly going to get even sicker and then die, because her mother removed the one thing protecting her from Dracula from her room.

We the audience are fully aware that this is a bad thing Mrs. Westenra has done, that she's doomed her daughter and is putting her directly in danger, that her smugness at the situation is so entirely misplaced that we want to scream and cry and curse and pull our hair out the way Van Hellsing did the instant she left the room, or the way Seward's anger is barely contained as he writes out today's entry. Bravo to the Re: Dracula cast for how downright upsetting this episode was, from hearing a usually silly man weep aloud to almost being able to see Seward's jaw clench from how he recounts what happened. You can almost imagine how Van Hellsing must have wept when his son died, as he loves Lucy as if she were his own daughter.

But here's the thing. Mrs. Westenra has been left out of the loop of what's happening with Lucy, she's unaware that Lucy knows she's sick, and with only a little time left she needs to get Lucy well enough to get married, so that when Mrs. Westenra inevitably dies Lucy is taken care of, she has enough money and a good enough reputation to get the care she needs when Mrs. Westenra can't try to provide it for her anymore. This is a very old-fashioned way of thinking, but Mrs. Westenra was raised in an old-fashioned time, likely when there was a cholera outbreak in London and the bad air theory first started to circulate, while Lucy is being raised in a new and (what must seem to Mrs. Westenra) frightening London, and old people are often set in their ways even now.

How many times have you, the audience, been told by a well-meaning older person in your life to "just hit the streets" when out looking for a job? They don't understand that times have changed, and it's easier to just nod and smile and say "sure thing, you're absolutely right Peepaw, I'll do just that" than to argue with them on it, because they're looking at the world through their lived experiences, the past, rather than how the world is currently.

Mrs. Westenra is also a disabled woman, she has a congenital heart disease that has only recently been fully diagnosed, and her life is slowly dwindling to an end, and she is watching helplessly as her daughter is sick with a disease no one seems able to cure. She has every right to be suspicious of Van Hellsing and Seward, because they can't and won't even tell her what's causing Lucy's illness, won't explain the garlic, and didn't even tell her they'd put garlic in her room.

Van Hellsing knows it's a vampire and can't fill anyone in on it, because that's supernatural hogwash, old-fashioned buffoonery, flying in the face of logic and science and everything the New London is striving for. Nobody would believe him anyways. Lucy thought the garlic was ridiculous, and even Seward himself felt as though Hellsing was being irrational (when Seward was Hellsing's student, and looked up to him as though he knew every secret in the world, but still questioned him on this one thing, fearing Hellsing was turning to Oujia Boards and Crystal Balls instead of Science and Logic,) and both only understood and accepted that Hellsing knew what he was doing from his intense and dead serious response to being questioned, and then seeing for themselves that Lucy had slept well, and had color in her cheeks again.

Mrs. Westenra saw none of this. She does not knows who Hellsing is, doesn't know that Lucy trusts him more than she trusts anyone else in the world save for Mina, and she doesn't know that he's helped Arthur save Lucy's life, nor does she know that Seward is in much the same boat, that he'd given his own blood and sleep and sanity for Lucy's sake out of love for her and his friendship with Arthur and Hellsing, who in turn trusts him with Lucy's health and safety.

Mrs. Westenra does know some things though. She knows that doctors, who rely on science and logic, weren't able to catch her heart problems in time to save her life, that she's dying and becoming rapidly unable to take care of her daughter, who is also sick with an illness doctors previously haven't been able to diagnose and treat. It went away on it's own, and came back again worse than ever before later in life, much like Mrs. Westenra's heart problem. This may seem foolish, but part of why I love Dracula is because every character feels like someone you might meet today, rather than a person almost 100 years ago.

How many times have we, the audience, heard of medical malpractice going unpunished and ignored, especially because the target of the malpractice was a woman? There must be at the very least a handful of you. I know from experience (personal and from being there for friends and family) what it's like to be told you're imagining your pain (in hysterics), you're being over-dramatic, (you're hysterical) it's just normal period pain and will go away (women and the constant fainting at the slightest pain, amiright fellas), have you tried losing weight, have you tried exercise and fresh air, have you tried eating this one diet or another, maybe it's all mental, go to this doctor or that and doing exactly as you're told only to be met with a door to the face, and if you're lucky, eventually getting diagnosed and maybe even given medicine for your ailments instead of just a bill and a smack on the ass. Mrs. Westenra finally got a clear answer for herself as it was revealed she's dying. Lucy has yet to get an answer.

So lets put all of this together. Mrs. Westenra is watching as strange men sneak around her home and into her daughter's room, she's just been diagnosed with a disease that is killing her and there's nothing the doctors can do to fix it, I doubt she trusts any doctors right now even though we the audience know she's dealing with a really wonderful doctor, even Mr. Medical Malpractice Warning himself is doing everything in his power to make Lucy well again, and for the first time since his introduction with his proposal to Lucy, he's putting logic aside to be kind to someone who is relying on him for help, promising to wake Lucy from her sleep if she has nightmares. Mrs. Westenra doesn't know this. She's going to die, her daughter is keeping secrets from her, and her saving grace is that Lucy is going to be married to a good and kind gentleman who will use his wealth to keep her relatively healthy seeing as Lucy is going to be his wife, and she can't have anyone making Lucy seem like an unchaste woman lest her plan falls apart and she's not able to make sure her daughter is wed and thus, safe. Mrs. Westenra knows that even gossip of Lucy sleeping around could make the whole thing fall apart, because Arthur has a reputation to uphold, and so does Lucy. Lucy is a new woman in a society where the old ways are dying or being reborn, and likely doesn't understand her mother's fears, knows that her friends would never hurt her, but that doesn't matter in the eyes of society because at the end of the day she is an unwed woman left alone with a man, a prior suitor no less. She walks into her daughters room and sees these men have left flowers everywhere, and worse is that they stink to high heavens.

Lucy seems better, but Mrs. Westenra has never gotten to see what Lucy looked like after Dracula fed on her, so to Mrs. Westenra these heavily scented flowers are going to look like something doing more harm than good. She knows from being raised in an old-fashioned society that fresh air does a lot of good, that's why Lucy went on that vacation with Mina, and she doesn't know how bad Lucy's sleepwalking got because everyone stopped telling her anything after they found out about her heart, at Lucy's behest no less. She feels like fresh air works, and these idiot doctors trained in the new ways (that have proven unhelpful, they couldn't save her could they, so how would they know what Lucy needs?) have gunked up her daughter's room and are inadvertently making her worse with the foul smelling flowers. Mrs. Westenra was probably alive as well when the cholera pandemic was in full swing and explained as being caused by bad air, and she can see her daughter is sick and wants to help her. So she takes the noxious flowers out of Lucy's room and opens the windows, and tries to get the men-folk to understand that they're no longer needed, not understanding herself that her attempt to rid the room of bad air has instead let what's keeping Lucy sick in rather than keeping it out, and by trying to protect Lucy from being preyed upon she has inadvertently let a very evil thing who is going to prey on Lucy in every meaning of the word into her room, where she should have been safe.

She doesn't know she's in a horror novel, and she only has what she can see as evidence. She made the wrong choice because she loves her daughter and is trying to take care of her, even though she's failing miserably because she's applying a bandaid to a burn wound, so to speak. Right now many people hate Mrs. Westenra for her smug attitude and for letting something evil hurt her daughter, for undoing all the hard work Seward and Hellsing have given up sleep and blood for, but I think it's a little unfounded. She's an old fashioned woman in a new world, doing her best for her daughter's sake, and it's not her fault she doesn't know all of the details, and she can't know the details because it will kill her and possibly make Lucy's situation even more dire.

That's what makes Lucy's death so tragic. To save Lucy they'd need to scare Mrs. Westenra and she would die, which would affect Lucy horribly and more than likely kill her as well. If Lucy dies Mrs. Westenra will follow suit. So they have to keep both alive, and that can't happen as long as Dracula has his sights set on Lucy. It's dramatic irony because only we know that it's Dracula, that the garlic helps, that the supernatural is real, that Dracula is a thinking thing that intends to kill Lucy. Van Hellsing can't tell Seward what's killing Lucy, and even if Seward believed Hellsing, he would never be able to tell the Westenras because their health is caught in such a fragile balancing act, and they'd never believe either of them anyways. The only thing that could save Lucy is Jonathan, and he comes back to London far too late, half out of his mind and trying desperately to live the life he'd always wanted with his new wife.

It makes the scene where Dracula well and truly fucks up by feeding on Mina that much more powerful, because Dracula doesn't understand nor realize that Jonathan will kill him for doing to Mina what he had done to Jonathan, and the Harker's friends, Lucy's suitors, experienced firsthand the suffering of losing someone they love more than life itself. Lucy had to die for Dracula to be vanquished. Lucy's mother had to make the bad decision so the story could end with Dracula's death.

Without her death, Lucy's Polycule wouldn't have had the push they needed to band together for the Harkers (who get to have what Lucy lost. Lucy and Arthur could have been married happily, so entirely in love, and seeing as Seward and Quincey both almost had that with Lucy had they not been rejected and are Arthur's closest and most trusted friends, all of them suffering in unison because of Lucy's death, Lucy is the piece that ties everyone together. Everyone in Dracula loves Lucy. The polycule knows what it's like to lose the love of their lives, and they see Dracula trying to put Jonathan through that same suffering, they see Dracula hurting Mina who Lucy arguably loved the most out of any one of them, and decide they can't let it happen ever again.)

[trulybetty]

Sunday | Week in Review VII

Not too much to report on this week - Mr. Truly and I both had the week off and then the little Truly's were thrown off their routine and it's been a week. But it was capped off with a new addition to the household!

So without further ado, let's get on with this week's late-night Sunday in Review!

Truly Betty Updates This Week…

Cake (Marcus Pike)

Autumnal Offerings

Distracting (Joel Miller)

Smut, just Frankie smut

Fics I Enjoyed This Week…

Shared Breaths (Frankie Morales) by @frenchiereading This whole series is such a delight to read and let me tell you, chapter nine is worth reading multiple times over, let me tell you that 😏. But this is a perfect story - you've got yearning for the first half and the second half is the play out of a developing relationship that is so fun to watch play out. If you love Frankie, you won't be disappointed in this.

Turbulence (Frankie Morales) by @rhoorl Jess' first run at a one-shot on our main man this week Frankie does not disappoint! I don't mind flying, but I can guarantee any flight sitting next to our aviation expert Mr. Morales is going to be a lot smoother. This is such a fun read and I really hope we see him again in a possible continuation of this.

Saying I love you through an accidental kiss (Joel Miller) Pre-Outbreak by @songsformonkeys This one reappeared on my dash this week and it's always worth a re-read and always one I'll recommend. It's Joel at his most hectic, which is very much how I picture pre-outbreak Joel and just the build-up here and the kiss is such a toe-curling delight to read, that I squeal each time even though I know it's coming.

Strawberries (Joel Miller) by @softlyspector This is set after Clouds, but doesn't have to be read first before this one. This explores Ellie and Joel's relationship after the events of TLOU and delves into TLOU2 territory (no spoilers in either one-shot). As much as I love the idea of Ellie and Joel living happily ever after in Jackson - I do enjoy an angsty dive into their relationship as it is in the TLOU2 games. This and Clouds are excellent takes on this!

Hungry Hearts | Epilogue + Bonus I Wanna Mary You (Joel Miller) by @atinylittlepain How my heart wasn't ready for this to end - but Gin gave Jerry the send-off they deserved and not only that, we were treated to a bonus second part to the epilogue that I'm still raving about! Honestly, who wasn't reading this? But if you weren't, I suggest you do - you can binge all the posted chapters! Jerry4Eva! 💘

Candy (Dieter Bravo) by @secretelephanttattoo I imagine any date with Dieter to be chaotic and El does such a great job of describing such an event here. I feel like a broken record with how many times I referred to it as such, but it really is a deliciously raunchy romp and I'd gladly go for Ray-Ban candy floss with Dieter any time if this is the end result.

Working Title (Dieter Bravo) by @rhoorl Finally got to reading this and devoured it all. It reads like a fabulous romance novel you’d read at the beach and then want to re-read again because it’s just that enjoyable! Plus the last chapter? My loins have not recovered lol, cannot wait for the next update!

Conversations with a Movie Star | Chapter 3 (Dieter Bravo) by @gnpwdrnwhiskey Aside from my own OC x Dieter, this pairing is hot on their heels for the title of favourite OC x Dieter. Ava keeps Dieter on his toes and has made herself at home at the Bravo Inn. The descriptions of landmarks in Myrtle Beach are fantastic, the chemistry is *chefs kiss*, and the way @gnpwdrnwhiskey writes Dieter 'Anthony' Bravo is fantastic. Please do take some time out to read this series - the premise alone is superb, you won't be disappointed - trust me!

Posts I Enjoyed This Week… Okay, so there's a reason this week's week in review is christened 'Sunday Thots' - the thots were out in force this week!

@goodwithcheese’s thread on the origin of Frankie’s oral skills

@beskarandblasters’s curation of creators with a smaller following

@legendary-pink-dot's Catfish Pond PHD program's latest curriculum, Pedro & Oscar

with Catfish PhD Logo, that I will figure out how to make into a shirt at some point 

@grogusmum doing the hard work for us and sending us all to horny jail

Jess’ deep dive on Grey Sweatpants Season with the Triple Frontier boys - thinking she should visit the Last of Us next 😏

Things I’ve Enjoyed This Week… No competition this week the most enjoyable thing was the addition of Francesca 'Frankie' Cat to the Truly household...

This Week’s Song… Not much has been played this week, but if you saw my mood board for Salt Water last week- this is where the title takes itself from...

Happy Sunday all! Here's to a great week ahead! 💕 xx

[realityhelixcreates]

Shards of the Nexus: La Belle Malefique

Finding Narci.

We're gonna throw a great big content warning on this one for slurs and hateful language. Puzzles had some gender essentialist ideas to overcome, but Narci was a straight up phobe, and his language and thought processes reflect this most horribly.

Song: Dance of Thorns-Homestuck (Strife!)

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions @whocares-idont

Detective hurried through the darkened streets, following their silent, yet insistent, internal compass.

This way. Then this way. Then this way.

In the apartments above them, they could hear people complaining about the sudden power outage, see candles and flashlights lighting up in the open windows.

This way. Then this way. Detective followed the guiding knowledge like a fluttering butterfly.

A Gotham city block without power was not the encompassing darkness one might have expected. The buildings were blackened, yes, but the thick cloud cover caught the copious light pollution of the rest of the city, and lit up a dull red.

This way. Down this alley. And...

Up.

Above them, against the background of ruddy clouds, two great birds flew. They danced in the air, bouncing off the brick, vaulting the fire escape. The black and the blue Detective recognized; that particular bird also flew over their Gotham as well. But the lime green and mauve...

That was very different.

The dueling dancers disappeared over the rooftop. Acting quickly, Detective hooked the ladder of the fire escape, and yanked it down. They were not an athletic person, and by the time they got to the roof, Nightwing and the Riddler were nearly to the other side.

With his skintight outfit, acrobatic prowess, black hair and blue eyes, he would not have looked out of place with all the orphans the Batman kept collecting. Perhaps Mr. Wayne had simply missed this one, but what an amusing thing that would be: a riddling Robin!

A sparkling trail caught their eye; jewels, spilled across the roof from a torn pouch girdled at the Riddler's waist. So that was tonight's haul. Detective scooped up a thin chain, diamond drop pendant throwing multifaceted fire.

The light caught Nightwing's eye.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed. “Get to the street! It's dangerous here!”

“When is the night's wing like a sour note?” the Riddler asked. A powerful kick to the stomach sent Batmans protege flying over the edge of the roof.

“When they're both flat.” he finished.

Detective clapped. The Riddler whirled to face them.

“Bravo!” they exclaimed. “Nightwing is a challenging foe. The riddle could use some workshopping, but we do what we can on the fly, don't we? He's probably on his way back up though, so we should be away quickly. Don't worry, I am only here to help.”

Detective watched the young mans expression morph from confused to incredulous, wary, and finally disgust.

“Are you crazy?” he demanded, a hard edge to his airy voice. “Is that what you are? I went to all that trouble to take the power out so no one would see me...and now I have to kill you anyway!”

“I assure you, that is unnecessary.” Detective said. “I am on your si-!”

The Riddler charged. Detective retreated to the fire escape.

?~?~?~?~?

Ed couldn't believe it. Some fool civilian had followed him up to the roof! Paparazzi? Extortionist? Ed deserved the attention, but he couldn't afford it tonight. But then the fool had piped up in some weird sissy voice and made fun of him!

He was scrambling down the fire escape now, but Ed could see that his body was thin and restricted in his close-cut clothes. This weird man was weak, and not very fast. Plus, he kept slowing down to place what looked like a shiny string across the width of the fire escape. The strings clung to Ed as he barreled down the stairs after his prey, but they didn't slow him down at all.

Somehow, the strange, graceful man reached the ground before he did, but Ed gathered himself for great leap-

-and crashed to the ground as a web of pain constricted around his body. He was bound! Bound by something he couldn't see, but could feel, cutting into his skin, criss-crossing his body with stinging strands. He writhed, but the cuts only deepened. The unusual man stood with his fists crossed in front of him, as if pulling something tight, and Ed could just barely see the shine of light reflecting off the strings in his gloved hands.

“What is this?” he demanded. “Some kind of sharp wire?”

“Why, that's exactly what it is.” the odd man said with his songlike voice. “I don't like doing this kind of thing, you know. I am reformed. Hurting people is no longer in my repertoire. But I still remember how, and will gladly defend myself, if need be. Now please, let us talk instead.”

Up close, Ed could finally see in detail what it was that made the man seem so weird and unsettling to him. While he was wearing a suit, the cut of it was wrong. It was cut for a woman, detailed for a woman, with peplums and slim lapels, a scarf with a bow rather than a masculine tie. He was wearing jewelry, makeup, women's shoes!

He was a freak.

Ed's father had warned him about people like this. People so flawed and twisted that they had to pretend to be something else, so envious of the perfection of the great and the good, that they had to prey on their superiors in order to even feel human. To fulfill their deviant hungers. His father had warned him that they would try to corrupt him if they ever got close, and this one already had him tied up!

“I'm not talking to you, you degenerate freak!” he snarled. “I know what you are.”

“Let's nevermind that, shall we? Please hold still. You are beginning to bleed. Now, have you not recently noticed some odd happenings around the city? People disappearing and reappearing? Places or buildings that are not where they should be, or simply shouldn't exist at all? Out of place animals?”

“Fuck off! I told you, I don't talk to abominations! I know what you want! You won't be ravishing me you nasty pervert! Touch me and I'll gut you like a fish!”

“Good heavens. Get a grip on yourself young man! This is rather important. Now listen, and I will let you free. I have no intentions whatsoever of doing anything to you. Put your fears and threats aside. You and I have something in common, Edward Nigma.”

Ed flinched.

“How do you know that name?”

“Have you noticed any of the things I mentioned?”

“Answer me!”

“Have you?”

A backwards street. A small herd of antelope washed ashore in the harbor. Lost children who had no parents in the city looking for them. Everyone knew something strange was going on. Was this sick creep responsible?

“Is it you? Are you the one doing this?” Some new supervillain like one of those overpowered freakshows from Metropolis? “If I kill you, I'll be a hero.”

“Set that thought aside this instant, young man. I can't do anything of the sort. Your world is colliding with others. I am from one of those other worlds. I am Edward Nigma. I am a friend.”

Ed reeled. Impossible. Even if the multiple worlds thing was true, he refused to believe that another him could ever be such a detestable atrocity as this creature, with his incredibly green eyes, and perfect skin, and beautiful hair. Revolting.

“I know it's difficult to believe, but I represent a small group of like individuals, a Riddler coalition, if you will-”

“I won't!” Ed insisted. “Are you stupid? Who would ever believe that? Let me go, you wretched sodomite!”

Finally, consternation pulled at the serene face.

“Watch your language.” he warned sharply. “I still control the strings, you know.”

Ed seethed silently, hateful disgust a thick veneer over growing terror. He was at this freaks mercy. If those wires were pulled tightly enough...

Just because he said he didn't mean Ed any harm, didn't mean he was telling the truth. Selina had taught him that much. But what else could he do?

“F-fine.” he hissed. “What do you want then?”

He began to spin a tale, a wild story of multiversal collisions, multiple versions of reality, of himself. Of an oncoming danger. It was insane. Unbelievable. But...

But he'd walked down the backwards street. He'd seen the poor drowned antelope washed up on the beach. Selina and Otis had both mentioned the lost children who shouldn't exist. Something was going on. Could it be this?

Could this be him? Could he actually be something so strange, so horrifying, so wrong, in some other world?

Did that make Ed the pinnacle? The one perfect Riddler, in a line of otherwise flawed prototypes?

That would make sense. But he wasn't sure. He didn't trust this monstrous thing. Everyone knew that no matter how innocent, how beautiful these creatures seemed, there was only one thing they really wanted. This man was trying to trick him!

“No!” Ed cried, beginning to squirm. “You're lying! I hate liars!”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold still!” his captor exclaimed. The wires cut deeper into his skin, but he could break them, he knew he could!

The strange man's head whipped up at a sudden sound, and he cursed quietly, releasing the wires.

“Nightwing.” he whispered. “Run! I'll meet you again later.”

He dashed out of sight, leaving Ed to wriggle free and run from Nightwing's pursuit.

?~?~?~?~?

“So it went poorly, I take it.” Arkham said, examining their face and hands closely for injuries.

“He reacted even worse than Puzzles did, I'm afraid.” Detective admitted sadly.

“Well. Puzzles is being 'educated'. You think this one has the potential?”

“I swear I saw him. He's important somehow. Linked to the danger.”

“But that's all you have. The impression of a link. Your recruitment attempts might not all be meant to succeed, dear. Did you think of that?”

Detective sighed. “I hadn't wanted to. But of course it's possibility. Failure is...”

“Not something we like to contemplate.” Arkham finished. “But not everyone can be worthy of the name. I have my doubts about someone who goes practically feral over something as meaningless as physical appearance. Does someone like that really have the flexibility of mind necessary to be one of us?”

“He was very young.” Detective pointed out. “Younger than Puzzles. He may simply never have been exposed.”

“That's his problem then. It still shows a rigidity of thought that we both know wouldn't do us any favors.”

“And it was bad timing.” Detective continued. “He was in the middle of a fight.”

Arkham grasped their chin, rough fingers firm but careful on their flawless skin.

“Don't throw yourself away on this. There are others, aren't there? There is a statistical probability that some of us simply won't fit. This is not something you can prevent. Look for the others. If it comes down to it, I can test him myself. But there are others to who can take his place.”

“I...suppose so.” Detective said. But the boy's skill and drive clutched at their brain, and things that got stuck in their head like that rarely shook free easily.

?~?~?~?~?

“Rather lucky, actually.” Selina was saying. “One of those wires was wrapped around your throat. The cuts aren't deep, but...Hm. I don't know of anyone who uses razor floss like that. I contemplated it once, but it's very challenging to control.”

“Yeah, he knew what he was doing.” Ed sulked. He hadn't wanted to come to Selina after his scuffle with that filthy pervert, but he'd robbed that store for the money she could get him, and he needed what money he could get. He'd also hoped she might know who the bastard was, but that was a no go. “But he won't get me again. If I see him again, I'll just kill him. No tranny fag will ever touch me.”

Selina clucked her tongue, pressing the alcohol wipe a little harder against one of his thin cuts. He hissed at the sting.

“You seem pretty sure that's what they wanted.” she said.

“Well, don't they all?” he said. Everything he'd ever heard pointed to that conclusion. His father always told him...

“Actually...no.” Selina said. Ed stared. She shrugged. “They don't. Not anymore than anyone else.”

“H-how do you know?” he demanded.

“How do you?” she countered.

“W-well...”

“Your daddy told you?” she asked, cutting right to the heart of it. “Didn't you kill that guy? Why listen to anything he said?”

“He wasn't wrong about everything. Miss Kyle, I am an extremely handsome young man. You've said so yourself. I can't trust that any such person would be able to overcome their freakish nature when presented with a specimen like me.”

Selina snorted.

“You weren't a part of the gymnastics community!” he protested. “You don't know what it was like!”

“Did you get propositioned often?”

“All the time! Even when I was a kid! Practically everyone who talked to me was after me. My father was wrong about a lot. He deserved it. But he protected me from them. Now I've got to do it myself.”

“Hmm. Everybody? Are you sure they weren't just trying to be friendly? Just talking to someone who happened to be nearby? Did your father really tell you that everyone who talked to you was a predator? Even the other kids? Did you ever think that was just a way to control you?”

Eds face blanked. No, he hadn't actually ever thought that.

“Besides, why get mad about someone being a freak? You're one too.”

He jerked away from her.

“I'm not!” he exclaimed.

“You wear a leotard covered in question marks. You painted them yourself. You leave godawful riddles at the sites of your robberies. You think a normal person does any of that? You're surrounded by freaks, kid. Otis talks to rats. I wear cat ears and fuck a furry on the Gotham rooftops twice a week.”

Ed knew his face was going red, and looked away. Selina was a very pretty and mature woman, and hearing her talk in such a vulgar fashion was embarrassing. Also it made him feel weird.

“Oh good grief, Ed, you're old enough to know about things like that! Aren't you?”

Ed kept quiet. Selina sighed deeply.

“If your father wasn't already dead, I'd rip his guts out for making me be the one to have this conversation with you. Alright, so first of all, sex and gender-”

?~?~?~?~?

The searching had been a slight challenge, but Detective had welcomed it. The tiny diamond drop necklace they had picked up in this young Riddler's world still had its jeweler's tag. They could trace it back to the jeweler who created it, the store it was stolen from, when it was stolen, and most importantly, who was fencing the gems that were stolen alongside it.

Selina Kyle. The Catwoman.

They were on good terms with the Catwoman of their world, and were pleased to find her as classy and personable here.

“You got that kid real tangled up, you know. “ she held up the diamond pendant, letting rainbows spark across their faces. “Is it true? The story you told him about other worlds?”

“I would like to know his location.”

“That could be...expensive.” she said. “I'm not usually one to rat out my suppliers, you know. Kid's young, fumbles sometimes, but he has the potential to make it big. And if he doesn't, he's still a decent thief. Good eye for valuables. So why should I?”

“If you are interested in a little fun, you might just wander down to Cobbert Park, on Lance Street, and shimmy between the trunk of the big maple and the fencepost that's marked with the Hangul for 'path'. I bet you'll find something very interesting there.”

“And I suppose that's my answer. Well, I'll have to think about it.”

“Why, I couldn't ask for more~”

A few days later, they were back in her presence, exchanging addresses.

?~?~?~?~?

Ed couldn't believe what he was seeing. That tranny freak was at his door! How? How had he found him? And...was he wearing one of the jewels Ed had lost?

Would the indignities ever cease?

This...creature, had tricked him, escaped him, stolen from him, prompted Selina-a person he looked up to-to give him an utterly mortifying lecture on sex and sexuality, and now he was taunting him by showing up at his door, wearing those stolen goods!

Ed was going to murder him!

No...no...Selina had said to control his emotions. That he could maybe learn something from this person. That he could at least try.

So he would at least try.

He opened the door.

“You...come in.” he said. The trann-person, the person, traipsed right in, as if he owned the place, but he did remove his frilly hat and coat, and he looked more...normal underneath.

But that just proved his duplicitousness, didn't it? Hiding what he was, pretending-

No, no. Selina had said, she knew people, and if Ed wanted to stay on good terms with her, he'd better learn...

Ed could learn. Ed was good at learning, when he was allowed to. Besides, he couldn't afford to lose Selina. She was the only person who would fence his stolen goods. Everyone else was afraid of him, and they should be, but that also limited his income supply considerably.

“So. What do you want?”

His guest, removed the diamond pendant and handed it over. Ed seethed over the insult, but pushed it down, and accepted the jewel.

“We got off on the wrong foot.” his guest said, his voice rich and songlike. “It is rude to interrupt someone while they are 'at work', so to speak. I hope I find you under less stressful circumstances.”

“I guess so. How did you find me, actually?”

“I am observant and persuasive. As I assume you are, and all of our kind must be.”

“That. What is that? That story. That doesn't make sense. You don't make sense.”

A mysterious smile curved his guests glossed lips.

“Let me explain to you then.” he turned away, to move further into Ed's lair.

Ed balled his fists together, and brought them both down on the back of his head.

He crumpled, and Ed caught him, dragging him gingerly into the darkness.

Ed would make him make sense.

?~?~?~?~?

Something heavy slammed into Ed, hard enough to flatten him to the ground and drive all the air from his lungs. He gasped for breath, unable to even cry out as whatever it was thudded into his prone form a second time. He'd never been hit that hard in his life. He'd never even hit the mat that hard. He hadn't realized the shock a body went through after an impact like that, why he couldn't seem to move.

A second man was there, rumpled suit and combat boots, stubbled chin and mad eyes. Ed hadn't even heard him sneak in. He stood over Ed like a monument to the power and brutality he sought. On his suit were grimy golden question marks. In his hands, a cane that might as well be a sledgehammer, grungy green and also shaped like a question mark. And on his face, an expression of pure judgment.

“Really, dear?” his voice was smoke-rough, mocking. “Some punk kid caught you by surprise?”

Ed's captive delicately cleared his throat.

“I didn't exactly come looking for a fight.” he said, his musical voice evil in Ed's ears. “I wanted to speak with him on his own turf so he might feel safer. Threats to disembowel me were a bit more serious than I previously gave him credit for.”

“Credit? I wouldn't give him any at all.” the rough man glanced around in disdain. “Look at this sorry excuse for a lair. Sloppy set-up. Not a spark of creativity.”

Ed made to move, and the man lifted his cane to strike again.

“Throw the knife over there.” he commanded. His cane twitched when Ed didn't immediately comply, but he didn't repeat himself. Ed tossed the knife. Better that than to get hit again.

“Can't even torture someone properly.” he continued, as if critiquing Ed's schoolwork. “What are those cuts? Who taught you how to restrain someone? Those knots are worthless. If our little Detective had wanted to leave, they could have gotten up and gone whenever they wanted.”

Ed tilted his head back to look at his captive. The gross abomination had a slightly guilty expression on his face. His shoulders wriggled, and within a few moments, his hands were free of the cords.

Ed burned with humiliation. Again. The wretched creature had tricked him again! Made a fool of him, this time in front of someone else!

“I'll slaughter you both.” he promised, his soft voice shaking with rage. “I'll hang your bodies in Gotham park.”

The rough man looked down his crooked nose at Ed.

“Mundane.” he spat derisively. The proclamation itself could have gutted Ed.

“I'm not-!” he started.

“Common. Unremarkable. Boring.” the man cut him off, poison dart words.

“You don't know anything about me!”

“I see people like you every day. Pathetic clouds of braggadocio with no legs to stand on. Banal. Insipid. Derivative. They never have anything to offer, and nobody cares when they're gone.”

“I'm better than that!” he shouted, a quick kip-up bringing him to his feet. The man stepped forward, shoving the head of his cane into Ed's stomach just at the moment of unbalance, and knocking him onto his rear.

“Prove it.” the man challenged. “What do you have to offer?”

Ed tried to stand again, to get around the cane, but the man had a pistol in his hand. Ed hadn't seen him pull it.

“Do you have anything? Anything other than this?” he nudged Ed's chest with the head of his cane. “You're really proud of this body, aren't you? But bodies age. They weaken. Do you have anything to carry you when that happens? Mind? Spirit? You look weak. Do you have what it takes?”

“I'm-” he tried once again to get up, to spit defiance in the mans face, but the venomous words had gripped his heart, and the gun pointed at his face drained his spirit.

“Arkham.” the deviant man said quietly, but the other kept his gun level.

“There are three rooms ahead of you.” the man said. “One is a furnace at five hundred degrees. Another is filled with mustard gas. The third houses a hungry wolf who hasn't eaten in a year. Where do you go to escape safely? Quickly now!”

His mind raced, but the fear, and disorientation, the suddenness of it all distracted him. Was he stronger than a hungry wolf? Could he run through the furnace fast enough to survive? Could he hold his breath in the gas room? No, that stuff burned skin, didn't it?

“So slow.” the man sneered.

But the answer bloomed in him, hope spreading its petals wide.

“I stay here!” he said. “The room I'm in is safe, so I stay.”

The man rolled his eyes.

“And never make any progress at all.” Contempt oozed from every word. “You are not the Riddler.”

“Y-you don't tell me-!”

“You should let this one go, dear.” the man said to the degenerate, ignoring him completely. “He simply isn't going to measure up to the others. He isn't worthy of the name.”

With the gun off of him, and the man turned away, Ed leapt to his feet and lunged.

He felt the crack of the cane against his skull, but only for a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, his head was splitting and his face felt sticky. But he was alive. That man-another Riddler?-had failed to kill him.

No. The memory of the mans frigid, scornful eyes filled his mind. If he had wanted Ed dead, he would be dead. He knew it down in his quivering guts.

He tried sitting up, but his hair was stuck to the floor by his own congealing blood, and he had to painfully peel his curls up. Everything felt tender and swollen. He was afraid to look in the mirror. Ed slowly made his way to the tub, stripping carefully out of his sodden leotard, and running the coldest water he could get. It wasn't quite an ice bath, but it did begin to numb the pain in his body.

His head still throbbed. He was afraid to touch it, afraid to try to wash his hair. He'd never seen so much of his own blood before. The fear sparked his anger, disgust in himself for being so faint of heart.

Common, the man had called him. Denied him his excellence. Denied him his name. All in the defense of some simpering transvestite!

Were they lovers? Disgust crawled down his throat at the thought. That he might have been beaten up, humiliated by some kind of faggot, no matter how masculine and powerful he had seemed...

Searing hatred filled him, hot, raging tears stung his eyes. He couldn't let this go. He would show them. He'd prove it. He was something special, he always had been, he was meant for greatness! He would show them, and they would have to acknowledge it!

They wanted him to. It hit him like lightning. They wanted him to. That was why he'd been left alive. The man had given him a time limit. He had a year. A year to figuratively join the pack. And if not...

He almost howled with frustration when the answer came to him.

A wolf that didn't eat within a year would be dead.

[langedufoyer]

hello ted do you have any old music recs ... by old i mean anything uhm. pre 1960s ...... i would just like to get more music and i think you are a tad knowledgeable.

yeah here's a list of some music artists + a few songs of theirs i like that i like :-) this isn't really in any order:

billy murray: "give my regards to broadway", "he goes to church on sunday", "he'd have to get under, get out and get under", "i've been floating down the old green river", "they start the victrola"

libertad lamarque: "café de los angelitos", "júrame", "el día que me quieras", "a media luz"

arthur fields: "when i send you a picture of berlin", "oui oui marie", "good morning, mr. zip-zip-zip", "how 'ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm (after they've seen paree?)"

ada jones: "all she gets from the iceman is ice", "shine on harvest moon", "i'm all alone", "come josephine in my flying machine"

édith piaf: "le 'ça ira'", "bravo pour le clown !", "johnny tu n'es pas un ange", "padam padam", "non, je ne regrette rien", "la foule", "boulevard du crime", "milord"

佐藤千夜子/chiyako satō: "悲しき踊り子", "島の椿", "煙草の唄", "君恋し", "出船の港", "紅屋の娘", "島の椿"

encarnita marzal: "mecanógrafa", "plazuela de los luceros", "afrentaíta", "la susana"

周璇/zhou xuan: "何日君再來", "花樣的年華" "月圓花好", "春之晨"

александр вертинский/alexander vertinsky: "танго магнолия", "доро́гой дли́нною"

cab calloway: "minnie the moocher", "st. james infirmary"

ella fitzgerald: "bei mir bist du schoen", "when i get low i get high"

müşerref hanım: "karşıdan gel göreyim", "kim derdi ki", "yetişir"

юрий морфесси/yuri morfessi: "чубчик", "бу́блики"

[number1spongebobfan]

FlapBob JackPants (SpongeBob SquarePants parody)

Cast:

Flapjack (The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack) as SpongeBob Squarepants

Owen (Total Drama Island) as Patrick Star

BoJack Horseman as Squidward Tentacles

Eric Cartman (South Park) as Mr. Krabs

Pusheen the Cat as Gary the Snail

Cindy Vortex (The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron, Boy Genius) as Sandy Cheeks (voice actor reference)

Samson (The Wild) as Larry the Lobster

Sabrina Spellman (Sabrina: The Animated Series) as Mrs. Puff

Pearl (Steven Universe) as Pearl Krabs

Invader Zim as Plankton

Motherboard (Cyberchase) as Karen Plankton

Captain K'nuckles (The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack) as The Flying Dutchman (voice actor reference)

Clutch Cargo as Mermaid Man

Robin (Teen Titans) as Barnacle Boy

Johnny Bravo as Realistic Fish Head

Steve (Blue's Clues) as Patchy the Pirate

Blue (Blue's Clues) as Potty the Parrot

Captain Bones (Crashbox) as Painty the Pirate