#but similarly harmless

[knownbyanothername]

i feel like hating on a media has an expiration date

like i don't mean legit crit but like

shitting on shows su-crit style even if like i objectively agree that i don't like parts of a show it kind of just makes me tilt my head and go

you're running a salt blog on this show? several years after it's over? reiterating the same points SEVERAL times ad infinitum? like you're in the fucking trenches of the infinity war on this cartoon? i don't even think this is that constructive of media crit on this show at this point?

I'm not even mad about any of that it's just that in my experience. how do you even find the time.

i have my hands full actually commenting on and experiencing and creating shit i like. how do you find the time for this??

[tojigasm]

I absolutely liveee for Logan realizing he's a dom through taking care of you

It begins small and harmless, as most incoragible things do.

Opening the door for you and leading you in with a hand at the dip of your back, ordering your food for you, playing dress up with you whenever the two of you go shopping, giving you his dog tags to wear.

Things he hadn't really even been that conscious of until it clicked for him one evening while the two of you were getting ready to go out to dinner.

He had come up to you while you were struggling with the clip of your necklace, watching yourself in the mirror.

Wordlessly, he takes over for you. Large hands encompassing yours as he guides your hands the right way until there's a 'click' from the clasp.

"Thank you, Lo," you smile at him as you turn around, moving up onto the balls of your feet to meet him in a soft peck.

He nods into the kiss with a smile, humming before he pulls away to kneel on the floor.

Grabbing your shoe from beside you, he helps to slip it over your socked feet, patting the top of his thigh before guiding you to rest your foot there.

The image alone is enough to make you shiver; Logan tying your shoes for you, running a hand through his tufts of hair before placing a kiss to both knees and tapping the top of your shoe as he stands back up.

"There y'go, kiddo." He slips a hand to the dip of your back, leading the two of you towards the front door.

There was something about the moment that you both registered – maybe unspoken but definitely understood between the two of you.

The second time it happens, the two of you are up late at night in the mansion. Invested in a movie marathon and too far deep in to quit though you both know the sun'll be up sooner than later.

Logan was spooning you on the couch, his back against the couch cushions and an arm thrown over your front, gently running up and down the length of your ribs to your hip through your pajamas.

"Y'okay?" He asks ever so often, stroking his knuckles down the nape of your neck.

You nod with a hum, turning sometimes to give each other a peck.

It's more often than not that kissing Logan innocently turns rather venereal no matter the circumstance but there's a subtle demureness to the air that both of you, drunk off eachother already, seem to abide by.

Logan cups a large calloused hand under your jaw, not squeezing or applying any pressure but simply reminding you of its presence amongst him pulling away to press kisses to the curve of your cheek and jaw.

"Hi, baby." He says softly under his breath, kissing the tip of your nose, smiling warmly when you giggle.

Similarly, it's when the two of you are at the island one night that something comes over Logan that has him pulling you from your chair into his lap.

He slides your food over beside his own before feeding you your food the rest of the night, pressing kisses to your shoulder here and there.

"Taste good?" He asks, stroking his hand down your back softly.

You nod.

"Good."

And so it only makes sense that while you're beneath him, ass pressed into his hips and the girth of his cock stretching you open so deliciously that you're nearly delrious with it, that he presses the palm of his hand to the side of your head, turning you somewhat to meet his eyes.

And Jesus, you're so fucked out you can barely focus on him.

The roll of his hips pulls a broken whine from your swollen lips. Brows furrowing and lips parting at the stretch of it.

Logan keeps himself there, curved over the arch of your back and his hand keeping you steady.

Your hand that's not twisted into his pillow case seeks for him by your side, and he slips his free hand into yours, giving your hand a gentl squeeze.

"Daddys here, baby." He hums, and there's little to no sexual undertone to it – something raw about it in its sensitivity makes you keen because the both of you know it's more than just him fucking you that causes that reaction.

A shiver runs down your spine, lips parted in a silent moan.

"Y'close?" He asks, dropping his hand from the side of your head to the bed.

You nod with a hitched whine, shivering as your walls tighten around the veiny girth of his cock.

"Haa... aaa" you sob into your arm.

Logan coos from behind you, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head as you unravel beneath him, "There y'go, kid," his voice muffled somewhat by your hair.

He keeps his hand woven with your own, offering you a sense of stability as he fills you with a soft groan.

There's a gentle quiet that passes over his room as Logan pulls out of you and holds you to his chest. It's the type of quiet that envelopes you and feels like the heat of the sun on your skin on a spring day.

The two of you don't wake up until late the next morning, still wrapped in one another.

[effingunicorns]

zolu is one of the most straightforward, innocent, harmless ships it's possible to have in this fandom. trust your instincts on it, go read some G- and T-rated fic, and I promise you'll see that yes, it actually is super cute, regardless of what your checklist says.

IS ZOLU PROBLEMATIC??????????

I've been seeing so much stuff about Luffy and Zoro and I think it's cute but it concerns me because Zoro was like 19 or something and Luffy 17 (at least in the part I'm in) (I know I'm really far behind)

please let me know (:

[tossawary]

Moshang fanfic idea that I've been holding onto for a while but have no strong plot for: the Airplane Extras meet-ugly happens as per canon UNTIL Mobei-Jun asks why Shang Qinghua saved him / what Shang Qinghua wants from him.

At which point, a panicking Airplane desperately searches for a compelling and believable character motivation as to why he would stupidly save the life of a murderous demon who might still kill him, and hastily blurts out: "You're so beautiful that I fell in love at first sight!"

Important to note: this is not true. It is bullshit. Airplane thinks MBJ is incredibly hot, obviously, but he does not know or like this guy as a person, because MBJ is both a relative stranger and a scary asshole.

Also important to note: some demon cultures have a marriage kidnapping tradition, but that happens under very specific and usually pre-arranged circumstances that obviously do not apply here. Mobei-Jun being whisked off to the equivalent of a shitty motel room by some random human outer disciple, who absolutely cannot forcibly keep him there, has no real romantic connotations. It's just weird. There's not even any life debt tradition aspect to it; Mobei-Jun could just kill this guy now and it wouldn't say anything about his personal honor even if anyone found out. It would just be humiliating. This guy would have to be fucking nuts to think this interaction is anything that anyone, especially any authority, would recognize, and that's not what this guy is claiming anyway. All he's doing is claiming that he's suddenly in love with a hostile stranger, which is still nuts.

So, Mobei-Jun (who is also still a teenager) is just... surprised and extremely confused. Does this kind of thing... honestly happen... in real life? Really??? And Airplane is like, "Aw, fuck, I made it weird. Well! I have no choice but to go with this!" and starts up the "Please don't kill me!" thigh-hugging routine.

Somehow, Moshang make it out of that meet-ugly similarly to how they usually do. Airplane is like, "Well, fortunately, nothing will ever come of this! No way would someone like Mobei-Jun ever return the feelings of his gross, pathetic human servant. I can freely express how sexy I think he is and it'll just be meaningless lovesick flattery to this asshole." Real emotions? That soft, squishy bullshit? Airplane does not have the TIME to contemplate having sincere feelings. He's in survival mode.

And teenage Mobei-Jun, spoiled demonic nobility extraordinaire, who otherwise would have spent the next 20 years or so thinking of his human servant as gross and pathetic and repulsive but strangely useful, is like, "I think... I'm being wooed...??? Is this working on me...? He's kind of... not unattractive, actually, for a madman. Maybe I should try to be... nice... to him??? How do humans do this???"

And THEN, months to years later, young and in-love Mobei-Jun somehow finds out that Shang Qinghua outright lied to him. (And by this point is pretty fond of Mobei-Jun but still hasn't looked directly at his own real emotions for years. He's busy.)

Arguably, the above idea is one way to interpret normal canon already, with Mobei-Jun reading more than is mutually understood into Shang Qinghua's bullshit, failing to communicate what he thinks their relationship is (if he even fucking knows himself), and then feeling betrayed when Shang Qinghua ditches him for being an asshole. But I'm charmed by the idea of distracted Shang Qinghua explicitly lying, actively making it WORSE by knowingly behaving "romantically" under the assumption that it's harmless fawning because Mobei-Jun basically doesn't even HAVE emotions, and then getting totally blindsided by having his "impossible unrequited love" returned and accidentally, apparently breaking Mobei-Jun's heart. Fuck!!!

[theoverstimulated]

"You might think that because you’ve had COVID-19 and lived through it that repeat infections will impact you similarly, but “reinfections aren't harmless. As cases continue to rise and more variants arrive on the scene, infectious-disease experts are warning that repeat infections could have cumulative, lasting effects.”

...If you want to maintain your current level of health and avoid potential damage to your body & organs (up to and including your brain & your heart) and/or want to live as long as possible, taking precautions to prevent COVID-19 infections is crucial."

[ldydeath]

Feels Like I'll Die Without You Part 3 | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: You and Jiyong have to deal with the consequences of your actions.  Word count: 1.5k Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, angst, unrequited love Author’s Note: sorry friends, I don’t think we’re going to see happiness for a bit. This  is the third installment in this series, you can read previous chapters here. 

It had been weeks since Jiyong’s album release. Weeks since your life had completely derailed. When you’d left South Korea no pictures from the party had been posted yet, not really. Not that it mattered, you weren’t in any. By the time you’d gotten home that had changed. Not only had they been posted, you'd been in a lot of them. Harmless at first but there were two that incriminated you. One of you and Jiyong talking, him whispering in your ear and you looking like you could ravish him then and there. The other was him leading you to the bathroom, your hand in his. 

Your boyfriend had them pulled up on his phone, bags packed when you’d gotten home. You didn’t really have to explain anything, he knew and he wasn’t willing to forgive and forget. It was fair, you wouldn’t have forgiven him either. And now as if the world hadn’t frowned on you enough, you were sick. 

You laid in bed, scrolling your phone, wishing you could take back the events of the previous month. You didn’t have feelings for Jiyong, you don’t even know why you’d done it. The thrill of doing something for you, maybe? He was still Jiyong, you’d loved him once and maybe those feelings were just too strong to ignore when you were with him. You couldn’t be with him, though. There was no reality in which that worked out for either of you. 

Your phone rang, Jiyong’s name filling the screen and against your better judgement you answered.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” You leaned back on your bed, hoping you didn’t look as sick as you felt. 

“Just wanted to make sure you got home ok.” He paused, studying your face. “You’re sick.” It wasn’t a question. Of course he could tell you weren’t your best. 

“I’ve been home for almost a month, Ji. And yes. I’ve got the flu or something. I’ll be fine.” 

“Mhm. You could’ve at least texted and told me you made it in.” 

“Sorry I was a little busy being dumped when I got back.” You sighed. “Look, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” 

The phone went black and Jiyong winced. There was a small part of him that thought you’d stay in Korea, get back together with him, and live happily ever after. That apparently wasn’t happening. You’d been home and single this whole time and hadn’t reached out. Maybe he should move in. No, he knew he should. But he couldn’t. 

There was nothing but silence for another week. Jiyong’s finger hovering over your name to call you at least twenty times, but he knew he shouldn’t. You’d call him when you were ready. Or at least that’s what he hoped. 

You sat in shock, staring at the test in your hand. Staring back at you were two pink lines, and a bunch of other tests that read similarly. You were pregnant. Fuck. One stupid decision had quite literally changed your life forever. And of course the father was Jiyong. Of course it was.  With a sigh, you picked up your phone and sent a text to Jiyong. You knew there was a better way to tell him this news, but you didn’t have the brain power to handle that right now. 

Tour rehearsals were in full force, with the tour starting in a little over a week, Jiyong had dedicated all his free time to make sure everything was perfect for his fans.. It helped to not think about you. As he was doing another fitting his phone buzzed, a smile spreading across his face when he saw your name appear on the screen. He opened the text quickly and almost dropped the phone.

I’m pregnant, yes it’s yours. 

“I gotta go.” He grabbed his security team and all but ran out of the studio. He didn’t even think as he called in the first class tickets, well aware that they only had the clothes on their backs. He’d figure it out when they got to you. He just needed to get to you. Eighteen hours later he was outside your house realizing the time. It was the middle of the night, but he didn’t care. He rang the bell hoping your stupid boyfriend hadn’t come to his senses and taken you back. He wasn’t ready to come face to face with another guy tonight. 

“What are you doing here?” You blinked as you took in the sight of him and his security team. 

“I got your text.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You sighed as you stepped aside to let them in. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“You’re really pregnant?” Jiyong walked over to you, unsure of what to do with his hands and letting them fall to his side.

“Yes.” You shifted, aware of your audience and folded your arms tightly across your chest. 

“I’ll move here. Whatever it takes. I have to be in their life.”  Your eyes locked in his as he spoke and you shook your head. 

“Your life is in Korea, and your tour starts there in a few days.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me.” He smirked. 

“Jiyong.”

“Right, sorry. Not the time.” He shook his head. “I mean it though, I’ll move here. I can find a place during my breaks and we can figure this out. You know I’ve always wanted a family and now we can finally have it, together.” 

“Jiyong, we’re not going to be together. Your life is in Korea, mine is here. We can co-parent when the baby is old enough to travel that distance.” 

This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Jiyong had wished for a wife and a baby his whole life and now that he was finally having a baby he was being told he couldn’t be in their life. That despite everything you still didn’t want him. His heart was shattering in his chest. This was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, not his worst nightmare.

“We can figure it out later. Just let me be here for you. This is half my fault.” He was pleading. Your expression softened and you moved to place your hand in his arm. 

“We will figure it out, I promise you that. But you shouldn’t be here. You guys are welcome to stay here tonight but you need to go home.” 

Jiyong nodded, avoiding your face and signaled for his team to take the guest rooms before moving to the couch. You watched as he moved the cushions around and removed his hat before laying down. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Going to sleep.” Jiyong shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. 

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, come on.” You held out a hand for him, helping him off the couch.

It probably wasn’t the best idea, leading him to your room but the selfish side of you needed him close. You still weren’t feeling great and well, this news was going to change both of your lives forever. The least he could do was hold you while you tried to come to peace with that. 

You both slipped into bed and Jiyong moved to hold you against him. He knew this wouldn’t amount to anything, he couldn’t make you love him no matter how hard he tried to impress you. He’d spend the rest of his life trying to show you he wasn’t that guy you’d broken up with all those years ago anymore. 

You scooted into him, laying your head on his chest, instantly hating how much you two still fit together. You couldn’t think like this, not now. You two hadn’t worked back then, there was no reason to believe you’d work out now. You just needed to shut your brain off. You closed your eyes and let sleep take you away as you held onto the comfort of Jiyong. 

Morning came too quickly, Jiyong was sure he hadn’t slept at all. He’d watched you all night, not wanting to move while you slept. He didn’t know when he’d get another night like this, maybe never, and he wanted to hold onto for as long as possible. You had been right though, he needed to get back home and with flights booked there was no reason for him to stay. Unless of course you asked him too. 

He slid out from under your grip, placing a pillow where his body had been. You stirred but didn’t wake up, thankfully. He leaned down placing a kiss on your head and let out a sigh as he watched you sleep for a minute longer. 

“I love you.” He whispered before walking out of the room. 

It was easier this way, to leave while you were asleep. He didn’t know if he’d be able to fly back to Korea if you’d been awake. But if this is what you wanted, he was going to respect it no matter how hard it was. If all he got out of this life was the opportunity to co-parent with you, that was just going to have to be enough.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @loveesiren @tulentiy @sherrayyyyy @gdinthehouseee

[sukunatoes]

No Strings Attached

Chapter 1

Nerd Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Synopsis: You and Satoru Gojo have been inseparable for as long as you could remember. However, for most of those years, you’ve been head over heels in love with him. Despite your one-sided feelings, you’ve successfully managed to keep your friendship strictly platonic. At least you had, until the day he asked you to hook up — with no strings attached, of course.

A/N: This story is intended to be a miniseries and for now is only planned for five chapters. However if there’s enough interest, I have enough plotted out to make this a full length fic.

CW: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, creampie

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” You didn’t need to see your face to know how appalled you must look.

You and Satoru Gojo had been inseparable since childhood. From bandaging each other’s scraped knees on playgrounds to cleaning up one another’s vomit after drinking too much at college parties, the two of you had been through it all together. There wasn’t much you didn’t know about the other, yet nothing could’ve prepared you for what he had just said.

Satoru immediately averted his eyes down towards his picked-through dinner on the counter, moving the takeout rice around with a pair of disposable bamboo chopsticks. Blushing would be an understatement. A deep red hue stretched across the entirety of his face.

“I was wondering if, uh,” his voice began to falter as he was quickly losing confidence, something wildly uncharacteristic of him. “If, uh, you wanted to hook up with me.”

“Wh—“

“You know what, forget I said anything,” his flustered voice cutting you off before you could get a single syllable out. He tossed the chopsticks somewhere to the side before pushing himself off the barstool and began rushing back towards his room.

You immediately jumped up to follow him and practically had to run to catch up. Lunging forward, you latched onto his arm before he could cross the threshold to his room.

“Please, Satoru, just wait,” you pleaded with him. “I just wanted to know where this is coming from, that’s all.”

He still refused to make direct eye contact with you, instead focusing his gaze on the hallway wall in your shared apartment. The tip of his left foot rapidly tapped against the tile floor. Though you couldn’t hear his heartbeat, you imagined it currently sounded much the same.

“It’s just I haven’t really dated anyone since we started university.” He reached his free arm up, scratching the back of his neck as his voice strained. “I kind of wanted to try getting back out there, and I’m just feeling a little, you know—“

“Inexperienced?”

He just nodded his head in response. Finally he peeled his eyes away from the wall and actually looked at you for the first time since bringing it up.

White eyelashes softly framed his remarkable cerulean eyes while his snowy strands gently fell down his forehead and grazed the bronze upper rim of his glasses. Satoru was truly one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen, and anyone who met him felt similarly. Everywhere the two of you went, girls had always relentlessly thrown themselves at him. However, it wasn’t shocking to you that he considered himself unexperienced in that area. Dating had always taken a backseat in his life, with the majority of his focus solely on school and his studies.

For the better part of a decade, you had harbored deep-rooted feelings for your best friend. You often brushed it off as nothing more than infatuation or a harmless crush, but you knew the feelings you had felt were something far more. All of your mutual friends figured it out long ago, but you had successfully pleaded with them to stay quiet. No matter how much you loved him, your friendship would always take precedence. The fear of possibly ruining what you two shared paralyzed you from ever attempting to take things a step further.

It took years for you to finally get over him, and it had hurt every single step of the way. You knew you shouldn’t even entertain the idea, yet you couldn’t stop yourself as you slowly lowered your gaze from his. Your eyes were now resting on his alluring lips.

“Anyways, can we please just forget I brought this up? I’m sorry if I made you feel—“

Every rational part of you screamed out to stop, but you knew that somewhere deep within was a part of you that never truly got over him and likely never would. It clawed and fought its way to the forefront as you pushed up to your tiptoes and crashed your lips onto his, stopping him before he could even finish his sentence.

He stumbled backwards, and you didn’t even need to open your eyes to know he was shocked at your sudden gesture. However, his lips never parted from yours. Within a few short seconds, he was slithering his arm around your back, pulling you in closer. His lips were soft and supple, slotting perfectly between yours like the two of you had been created solely for each other.

This exact moment had played through your mind a million times over throughout your years as friends. A culmination of almost a decade’s worth of longing and love, even if it had been one-sided. It was everything you had dreamed of and more. Even if it ended now and the fallout was one of flames, you don’t think you’d regret kissing him.

You gently broke the kiss and brought your hand up to his cheek, your breath ricocheting off his lips. “Shyness doesn’t suit you, Satoru.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

A gentle smile pulled up at the corners of his lips as he brought them back to yours once more, this time just a soft peck. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“If we go through with this, what would that mean for us?”

“Nothing would change, I promise,” he hurriedly reassured you. “No pressure, no awkwardness, no strings attached at all.”

It was the answer you needed to hear, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. You felt like a piece of your heart splintered off at the stark reminder he’d never see you as anything more than a friend. It was obvious what you should do, apologize for the misstep and excuse yourself from the situation. However, no matter how much your heart ached, you couldn’t pull away.

“No strings attached,” you whispered back with an enthusiastic nod.

He slipped his hand into yours as he gently tugged you into his room. His nervousness, for the most part, had eased since you had agreed, but it was evident some remained. You gave his hand a soft squeeze as he led you towards his bed.

The soft white comforter creased underneath you as you sat on the edge. Satoru wasted no time as he crawled on top of you, his knee resting between your thighs. His lips reconnected with yours as he slid you further on the bed, softly laying you on your back. Every movement he made was slow and deliberate, like you were made of glass.

He slightly parted his mouth and began tracing his tongue against your bottom lip. You opened yours in turn, granting him the permission he was seeking. His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, gliding up your abdomen. Your tongues rolled against one another as he edged his fingers up towards your chest.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He pulled away, asking breathlessly.

You locked eyes with him. “I want you, Satoru.”

That was all he needed. He leaned back, and in one fluid motion, his shirt was off and on the floor.

You traced every inch of his abdomen with your gaze. His muscular body looked like it had been hand-carved from stone. Every inch of him was truly a masterpiece.

“You must like what you see.” Your staring must’ve been apparent, as you could hear a teasing smirk in his voice.

Now that was the Satoru you were accustomed to. To think the confident, headstrong man you knew and loved was a blubbering mess just minutes prior. He must’ve taken what you said about his shyness to heart.

You didn’t reply, but instead leaned up and grabbed the bottom of your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it onto the floor. His eyes went directly to your chest, and now it was his turn to stare.

“Like what you see?” Your voice lightened as you couldn’t resist the chance to tease him back.

He quickly reached his arms around your back and unhooked your bra’s clasp.

“I do,” he purred as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he began sucking, his tongue encircling the hard tip. His hand slid up to your other nipple and began massaging it between his index finger and thumb.

You bucked your hips upwards into his. You were already embarrassingly wet and desperately seeking some sort of touch. The now noticeable bulge in his pants rubbed against you and pulled a loud groan from his throat at the contact.

Retracting both his mouth and hands from your breasts, he began sinking downwards. His lips left a trail of kisses down your abdomen as his nimble fingers sunk to the button of your pants. You lifted your hips as soon as he popped open the button, allowing him to free you from their confines with ease.

Your panties immediately followed, and without hesitation, he was spreading your legs wide. A single finger gently caressed your opening, gathering your slick before dragging itself up to your clit. You threw your head back into the pillow as his finger began stroking the bundle of nerves painstakingly slow. A string of moans and whimpers escaped your lips as he continued to stroke you.

“Satoru,” you called out, the whine in your voice betraying your desperation.

He instantly replaced the finger with his tongue. The muscle began lapping and circling your clit between gentle sucks. He slowly sunk a single finger in your entrance. Reflexively, you reached down and intertwined your fingers with his silky strands. A second finger slipped inside you, and he curled them both upwards, hitting just the right spot.

His name repeatedly tumbled off your tongue like a prayer between your moans. You could feel a pressure building inside you, ready to snap at any moment. Your thighs began to tremble as you neared your climax.

You cried out his name one more time, followed by a string of curses as pure ecstasy coursed through your veins. He continued as you rode out your release, not pulling away until he was sure you were finished.

Satoru removed his fingers before climbing back up to you, planting a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. “You sound so pretty,” he murmured before moving his lips down your jawline and onto your neck.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, gently pushing him back before reaching for his waistband. Stroking him through the fabric, you coaxed a low groan from him before sliding your fingers in front of the button. You popped it open, allowing him to kick off his pants, and his boxers immediately followed.

His hard cock sprung free, and you had to restrain yourself from physically reacting, because fuck, is he massive. A trail of soft hair, matching the alabaster strands atop his head, led down from his bellybutton to the base. A thick vein snaked its way up the center until it reached his fat, swollen tip that was leaking a bead of clear fluid.

You leaned forward, reaching for his erection, but he gently swatted your hand away.

“This is supposed to be me finding out what makes you feel good.” The words dripped from his mouth like honey as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Satoru gently pushed his tip in, pulling a soft cry from your throat. The feeling was intoxicating as he continued to sink himself into you. It was a smooth, slow movement, allowing your walls to stretch around him. As soon as the head kissed your cervix, he placed both of his hands on either side of your head, staring down at you as he began rocking back and forth.

His pace was leisurely as he stared down at you, only breaking eye contact to pepper your face with the occasional kiss. The position was personal and far too intimate for what was happening. He wasn’t looking at you like a friend he just wanted to fuck. His face appeared to adorn a look of neither lust nor desire, but something else you couldn’t place.

You couldn’t bear to read further into the situation than what was actually there. Getting your hopes up for something like that would only cause you more pain down the line. You needed to remedy the situation quickly.

You reached up towards his hand and gently gripped it before dragging it down towards your clit. His thumb began stroking you once more, drawing tight circles counter-clockwise as he slowly pulled himself in and out of your sopping cunt. You reflexively arched into him before wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You feel so good, Satoru,” you whined, pushing your hips up against him repeatedly. He caught your hint and significantly picked up the pace, his thrusts growing quicker and rougher. His eyes no longer interlocked with yours as he tossed his head back, groans and moans tumbling from him repeatedly.

His second hand pulled from where it was next to your face and instead gripped down on your hip. A searing heat spread across your lower body as your second orgasm began to approach. His cock repeatedly hitting that sweet spot deep within you while he stroked your already overstimulated clit easily pushed you over the edge.

Your cunt throbbed around him, prompting him to curse under his breath as his movements began growing more erratic. He was close.

���Where?” Satoru choked out between breaths, his voice strangled.

“Anywhere,” was all you could muster up.

He thrust again, ramming his tip into your cervix as he buried himself as deep as possible. His cock began throbbing within you as warm, white ropes painted the inside of your cunt. His body shuddered as he rode out the remainder of his climax with a couple more lazy strokes.

Satoru collapsed on top of you, still not pulling out. His head nuzzled into the crook of your neck for a brief moment before he angled his face to glance up at you.

“Any notes? Or criticism?” His voice betrayed his exhaustion, yet he managed to keep his tone light and playful.

You look down with half-lidded eyes, absolutely spent from what just occurred. “No, it was great.”

Reaching up, you gently ran your fingers through his hair, absentmindedly stroking as he continued to stare back at you. A soft smile grew on his lips, and that familiar look from earlier returned. You could feel your stomach drop at the sight, because you knew your feelings couldn’t come back from this.

At some point your face must’ve shifted, because Satoru’s smile fell and was promptly replaced with a pout accompanied by furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just exhausted.” You hoped your half-assed lie would be enough to get by.

“You look upset,” his pout grew. “Don’t worry about things getting weird between us. Remember, there are no strings attached.”

You could feel your heart ache as you forced a smile the best you could, returning his gaze. “No strings attached.”

You were fucked.

chapter index

[smallmariofindings]

A well-known element of Super Mario 64 is the sleeping Piranha Plants that wake up if Mario moves too quickly around them. However, not all players may know that these Piranha Plants are actually incapable of hurting Mario while asleep.

Walking slowly into one without waking it up first will merely bounce Mario back without hurting him (note the health meter not appearing in the footage), similarly to how touching a shell-less Koopa Troopa is also harmless despite it being an enemy.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source: SM64 (NA, N64)

[sturnsdc]

Genius

pair: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

synopsis: Yn is always impressed by Spencer's knowledge, but soon a situation exposes her own knowledge, showing the genius boy that his new coworker is even more interesting than he thought.

warnings: fluff, mention of a fictional case, mention of obsessive-compulsive disorder, just two genius kids.

era: S1-S2 ?

words: 934

A/N: hi babies, since Spencer won the poll, here he is!!

i wanna mention that even though Yn explains and gives reasons why she believes the criminal has obsessive-compulsive disorder, it doesn't need to be taken 100% seriously. This is just a fictional story, and the interpretation of this made-up case is only based on one of the many aspects of this disorder. If you have it and what you read doesn't resonate with you, that's completely fine—it’s not that deep. Similarly, schizophrenia is mentioned only due to two of the symptoms outlined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. If that doesn't resonate with you, again, that's perfectly fine.

thanks <3

main masterlist              spencer masterlist

divider from: @cafekitsune !

"how? he always knows about every topic, how!?" the girl asked, resting her head on the desk with a sigh of defeat. Behind her, Derek and JJ laughed, exchanging glances as they understood the feeling.

"he's a genius, i told you," Derek replied, smiling and placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. "He does it to everyone."

to give a little context, Yn, Morgan, and JJ had arrived about 20 minutes earlier and had started chatting about various topics until the conversation shifted to a light debate about serial killers. It wasn’t even that serious of a conversation, but none of them expected Spencer’s intervention. He had just arrived and overheard part of the discussion, adding details that completely dismantled the points of the three, ending the debate, then giving them a tight-lipped smile before heading off to find Gideon.

it wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it never failed to impress the new team member, Yn, who still couldn't wrap her mind around how someone who looked so cute and harmless could shut down any debate with a single comment. 

'he always knows.' and although she doesn't admit it out loud, even though she constantly jokes around with Morgan, Penelope, and JJ, the truth is… that she finds that man's intelligence attractive. And she��s deeply afraid of coming across as completely ignorant in front of him, and she feels that's exactly what happens every time something like this occurs. That’s one of the reasons she reacts the way she does, even though, deep down, she can't help but feel excitement and butterflies at Spencer's obvious knowledge.

now, for Spencer, this doesn’t entirely go unnoticed, as he does feel a great deal of satisfaction when he sees the curiosity on his new colleague’s face, and the way she gives a slight smile before dropping her shoulders, giving in. He even finds it amusing at times... maybe that’s why he keeps listening in on conversations she’s a part of, looking for something to comment on and impress her. Though, to be honest, most of the time it happens naturally, as his urge to share what he knows takes over, but it gets even better when, instead of receiving annoyed looks or hostile responses, he gets her reaction—so sweet and thrilling to him.

a few minutes had passed, and the conversation between JJ, Derek, and Yn resumed until they were called to discuss the next case. And now, on the jet, they were sharing information, opinions, and theories. The criminal had left notes in which he extensively detailed the acts committed at each crime scene, repeatedly trying to justify them.

"actually, i think it could be related to schizophrenia, given the way he keeps mentioning..." Spencer was saying, speaking quickly while gesturing with his hands, until Yn, who was looking through the papers as she listened, interrupted him.

"sorry, but i actually think it’s more related to obsessive-compulsive traits, because he keeps talking over and over again about their actions, but in very specific ways. He doesn’t seem to display delusions or disorganized thinking, but rather an obsession and irritation over small, normal acts they were doing. For example, victim number one is missing two fingers on her right hand, and in his note, he mentions how she kept tapping on a wooden table, making his ears suffer, and he felt an overwhelming need to stop the constant tapping. He states he needed to make her stop, as the sound wouldn't cease and disrupted his own routine, and although he tried to ask her to stop, she responded with hostility..." she lifted her head, noticing everyone was staring at her, some with surprise, which confused the young woman as she tilted her head. "what?"

"you're... right," Spencer replied, his face lighting up as if the answers had suddenly come to him.

there was a brief silence, until Derek chimed in with a grin. "i think we've finally got a worthy opponent for our little genius," he joked, causing JJ to laugh, Yn to blush, and Spencer to smile, all while Aaron and Gideon observed with small, almost imperceptible smiles of their own.

the truth was that Reid was impressed, not only because he had made a mistake in interpreting something in his field of expertise but also because of Yn’s ability to quickly spot the error and present a more fitting point.

something ignited inside him, excitement and curiosity. ‘What other subjects is she an expert in?’ he wondered, his mind wandering in a way it never had before.

Yn felt embarrassed but also proud, and as she finished explaining her theory, she could only recall the expression on Spencer's face. She definitely wanted to impress him again, to elicit that reaction from him once more.

for both of them it was exciting, and filled them with a different attraction towards each other. This certainly didn’t go unnoticed, as from that moment on, Reid started discussing every theory and piece of information with her, eager to hear her thoughts, her point of view, her ability to grasp the situation. And she wasn’t far behind, putting in extra effort to learn, not just to gain knowledge but to share it with him and have more to talk about.

these interactions didn’t go unnoticed by their teammates, and Derek Morgan would definitely be the one to teasingly, but affectionately, call them the two geniuses. By the end of the day, everyone was happy knowing that Spencer Reid finally had someone who understood him and didn’t make him feel like an oddball for always knowing so much.

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part XI (act II)

Word count: 15,152 Warnings: Language, blood/injury, descriptive violence, fictional racism, mild gore, death, kissing, body horror, unreality  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: Due to Tumblr’s paragraph limit, I had to split this into two acts again. Link to the first half here. Hope you enjoy, please reblog/comment if you do! - Aqua

~*~

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

~*~

Bravo emerges from the portal, blinking.

It takes a second for his eyes to adjust from the dim basement to the brightly-lit garage. It looks just like he remembers it, save for a few scattered chests lying about. The floor-to-ceiling bay doors that lead out to the surrounding lava lake are closed at the moment, leaving the iron side door as the only access point.

The portal behind him now has that same red-yellow-green light as the old one, flickering as the other players begin to appear. Jimmy follows closely after, then Ren the dog man and Cleo the zombie take up their positions on either side of it, weapons at the ready.

“Well, what’s this, then?”

Clear’s alone, just like Grian reported before they came through. He’s crouched by one of the flying machines, a slimy rag tossed over his shoulder, black lab coat stained and rumpled as always. He doesn’t look particularly shocked to see them or the portal- mildly surprised, at best.

So far, so good.

Bravo takes a step forward, hoping to keep Clear’s attention on him as the rest of the others come through. “Hey, hey there, how’s it goin’?”

Clear straightens up and puts his hands on his hips, nonplussed. “Open House day already, is it? Could’a bloody reminded me, how am I meant ta’ keep track of all this rubbish…” He sighs, wiping his hands on the rag. “Right. Suppose you lot will be wantin’ the tour, then?”

“Uh, don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Bravo says quickly, holding his hands up. “You can just stay here, keep doin’ what you’re doin’... don’t let us interrupt you, I- I know your work’s important. But uh, mind if I borrow your ID? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

Clear blinks. “Oh, alright then. Sure.” He reaches into his inventory, fishing out a slip of paper. “Makes no difference t’me if-” He stops abruptly, his mouth falling open as he stares at something behind Bravo. “Scáil?”

Confused, Bravo follows his gaze- and his heart jolts. Grian’s just come through the portal, and Clear’s looking at him like he’s seen a ghost.

Grian seems similarly confused. “What?” he asks, startling under the sudden attention.

“Oh, Scáil!” Suddenly Clear is running to wrap Grian in a hug, sobbing. “God, I- I thought I’d never see you again-”

“Um?” Grian’s voice is strained, eyes wide as he goes rigid in Clear’s arms. “Hello?”

Jimmy and Scar rush forward to help, but Bravo holds out a hand to stop them. He knows Clear is harmless; there’s no reason he’d be trying to hurt Grian right now. But what is this about? Scáil… he feels like he’s heard that name somewhere before-

Oh, no.

“Really?” Bravo demands, exasperated. “Of- of all the Hels in this world, you chose his to fall in love with?”

Clear ignores him, of course, continuing to blubber. He’s fallen to his knees at this point, face buried in Grian’s sweater- which is quickly growing damp with tears. It’s kind of sad… in a gross, pathetic way.

“Come again?” Jimmy asks, eyebrows shooting up.

Bravo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Atlas mentioned once that Clear used to have a boyfriend named Scáil who up and vanished on him, and he’s had trouble tellin’ me and Tango apart before, so…” He shrugs. “Guess he had a thing with your doppelgänger.”

Surprise flashes across Grian’s face, followed quickly by sympathy as he exchanges a glance with Scar. “Um- look, buddy,” he starts, wincing, “I- I’m not… whoever you think I am, alright, I need to get goin’-”

“No!” Clear pleads, voice tinged with panic as he clings even tighter. “No, no, p- please Scáil, don’t go! Please, stay.”

Bravo can see Grian’s resolve falter. Hands that he’d raised to push Clear away instead come down to rest on his shoulders. “Ey,” he murmurs, wings curling around them, “it’s alright.”

Jeeze, he must be closer to that Mumbo guy than Bravo thought. “We don’t have time for this,” Bravo huffs. “Let’s just knock him out and get movin’.”

Jimmy hesitates. “Grian?”

Grian seems to make up his mind. “Just go, okay? I’ll stay with him.”

“You sure?” Scar asks worriedly.

Grian nods. “Yeah, I got Cleo and Ren to back me up if I need, okay.” He reaches an arm around to pluck Clear’s keycard out of his grasp, holding it out to Bravo. “Here.”

Bravo takes the keycard, mind racing. He would’ve liked Grian to stay with them- his ability to fly is a huge asset, especially when combo’d with Scar’s ace shooting, and not to mention his weird spectating ability. But if this is how he wants to handle his friend’s doppelgänger, then Bravo has to respect it.

And they certainly can’t waste any more time arguing about it.

“Alright, let’s go.” Bravo turns away, and is relieved when he hears footsteps behind him. Approaching the door, he slips Clear’s keycard into the dispenser, picking it back up as he steps through and holds the door open for the others.

Now that they’re inside the facility itself, the group is instantly alert, moving down the hallway as quickly yet quietly as they can.

Bravo leads the way, with the archers- Scar and Scott- at either side. Jimmy and Pearl follow closely behind, in case they need to fly ahead, and Martyn so he can lob a slowness potion if needed. Joel and Bdubs are next, with Etho between them, and Impulse bringing up the rear.

The hallway soon splits and veers off into multiple directions; a virtual maze of identical quartz walls to the uninitiated. But Bravo spent years learning these halls, and he hasn’t forgotten, despite his last couple weeks spent on the run. He swiftly takes them on the shortest path to the south wing, where the blaze farm is located.

As they creep through the halls, he tries to keep an ear out for anyone approaching, but it’s difficult to hear above the pounding of his heart. Being back in this place is more unnerving than he expected. After all, it was basically his home for five odd years, so he would’ve thought he’d be perfectly at ease here.

But maybe it’s a good thing that he isn’t.

“Wait,” Pearl breathes.

Bravo halts the group, looking over at Pearl. Her fuzzy antennae are twitching, her eyes wide, and she meets his gaze and mouths the word ‘one.’

Now that they’re standing still, he can just make out the faint echoes of footsteps down the hall, around the corner. They’re getting closer but they aren’t rushed; sounds like someone is just strolling. Likely one of the night guards on patrol. 

Scott’s on it right away, creeping forward a few steps to crouch and draw his bow. Bravo shifts over to gesture Martyn forward- which he does while pulling out a splash potion of slowness.

For a few, brief moments, they’re all frozen, waiting with bated breath.

Then the guard rounds the corner.

Scott fires almost immediately- an arrow appears in the guard’s leg. In the same heartbeat, Martyn launches the potion through the air. By the time it shatters at the guard’s feet, showering them in particles, Martyn’s closed the distance.

The guard opens their mouth to shout, raising an arm to block, but between the arrow and the potion, they’re too slow. Martyn slams the pommel of his sword against their head, and the guard crumples to the ground.

Bravo lets out a breath and advances the group forward. They come up on Martyn right as he’s securing the unconscious guard with chains.

“Good work,” Bravo murmurs before glancing at Pearl. “You got super hearing or somethin’?”

Pearl nods excitedly. “It’s these halls,” she whispers, “the way they echo- I didn’t expect it to amplify the vibrations so much, but…”

Bravo exchanges a look with Jimmy. “Well, that’s handy.”

He can see the same hesitant relief reflected in Jimmy’s eyes and recognizes what he’s feeling. Their plan for encountering guards worked like a charm, but they’ve still got a way to go, so they can’t get complacent. The night’s not over yet.

Bravo unlocks a random lab for them to shove the guard inside before pressing on.

They continue through the facility in tense silence. It’s eerie being here at night, the rooms behind the endless iron doors all dark and quiet. A far cry from the bustle of noise and activity Bravo recalls from his time here. There was always so much going on at Hels Tek, countless projects being tested and reworked, all manner of redstone farms and contraptions.

It makes him wonder why, exactly, Atlas was so dead set on recapturing Tango for the blaze farm. He had already been chasing the idea for years before Bravo arrived on the scene with his own motivations. Surely, at a certain point, it would’ve been more trouble than it was worth? Especially since he knows good and well that Atlas wasn’t after portals.

But then again, why does anyone in Hels do anything? They all seem to be insane in one way or another. Maybe that’s just how it’s manifested in Atlas; single-minded obsession, like a dog with a bone.

Soon enough, Pearl is signaling the group to stop again. Another guard incoming, but they’re prepared for this. Everyone takes up their positions, waiting for the guard to appear… and then-

Arrow, potion, knockout. The guard is groaning from the floor in the blink of an eye.

Bravo is just starting to feel reassured when something on the ground flashes; a dropped item disappearing. It looked like a slip of paper- an ID keycard, like the one they took from Clear, was in the guard’s hand when they were knocked out. And now it’s gone- but how? It’s been nowhere near long enough for it to despawn, and it landed too far away to be picked back up into the guard’s inventory. It almost seemed like it was sucked beneath the floor, like into a hopper… but why would there be hoppers here?

Frowning, Bravo steps forward to investigate, opening his mouth to warn the others. But before he can, a faint yet distinct sound reaches his ears; the clicking of an observer and the churning of pistons.

Then the ceiling opens up, and a ravager drops on their heads.

~*~

One second, Jimmy’s thinking maybe things are going to be alright, and the next, he’s looking up at the underbelly of a ravager.

Pure instinct kicks in. He grabs Bravo by the arm and takes off into the air. The ravager lands with a heavy thud right behind him, close enough for him to feel the wind through his feathers, and crushes Joel and Bdubs into a cloud of respawn smoke.

Immediately, it’s chaos.

Shouts of alarm mix with the ravager’s roars, echoing off the walls into a deafening din. Pearl’s followed Jimmy into the air, struggling to hold Scott steady enough to shoot amidst her slightly erratic hovering-

Martyn’s thrown against the wall as the ravager charges, head slamming against quartz with a resounding crack. He’s in the ravager’s jaws before he can recover, before he can even scream, respawning away to leave only bloodstains and scattered items-

Etho manages to put some cobblestone down. In a hall that’s only three-by-three, it’s just enough of a barrier to keep the ravager back; with the consequence of it now standing between him and the rest of them-

Beneath Jimmy, Scar’s backing up, firing arrow after arrow, but at this close of a distance and with his less powerful bow, it’s barely affecting the ravager. Walled off on one side, the ravager turns and lunges forward to close its jaws around Scar, killing him with its crushing bite-

Everything seems to slow down.

The ravager has now set its sights on Jimmy, and his wings can’t pump fast enough to escape it. He’s flying as close to the ceiling as he dares but he knows it won’t be enough, certainly not to keep Bravo out of its reach in such close quarters.

“Back up, back up!” Bravo’s shouting, fumbling for his sword, and the ravager lowers its head to charge-

Impulse appears in the air above it. He’s in full demon mode; with a powerful sweep of his leathery black wings, he launches himself onto the ravager’s back, sinking his claws deep into its flesh. The ravager bellows in pain and rage, thrashing to try and throw Impulse off, and his glowing golden eyes snap up to meet Jimmy’s gaze.

“Go!” Impulse snarls, his deep voice booming through the air.

Jimmy doesn’t need to be told twice. He takes off down the hall, Pearl right behind him.

It’s a frenzied flight, breathless and panicked, the ravager’s fading roars echoing in his ears. Wings and lungs burning, it’s only thanks to Bravo’s directions that he manages not to crash into a wall, twisting and turning through the maze-like halls. His mind is racing on an endless loop of ‘oh gosh, oh gosh, what now?’ as the reality of the situation starts to sink in.

The jig is up, that much is for certain. There’s no shot that Atlas doesn’t know they’re here. Jimmy would be less concerned if this was after they got Tango free; now, there’s a chance they’ll be stopped before they even reach him. Especially since it’s just the four of them. Pearl and Scott are both skilled fighters, to say nothing of Bravo, but there’s strength in numbers and no telling how many guards they might face.

(Well, that was exciting!) 

(Ooh, things are getting spicy.)

(Can’t see this ending well…)

It’s not long before Jimmy has to stop, dropping Bravo to his feet and stumbling to an ungraceful landing. He leans against the wall to catch his breath, his wings sagging with exhaustion. Pearl seems similarly winded, landing heavily beside him. For a few moments, no one speaks.

“Fuck,” Bravo says, which sums up the situation fairly well. He kicks the wall. “Fucking- fuck!”

Scott rolls his shoulder, but seems none the worse for wear. “I take it tha’ ravager is new, then?” he asks, quirking a brow.

“Yeah, no,” Bravo snarks, “I- I just completely forgot about their aerial ravager deployment system, yeah.”

“Oh man,” Pearl wheezes, doubled over. “I haven’t flown like that in ages…”

“Well, this’s bad,” Scott drawls. “What’s tha’ plan?”

“We press on,” Bravo says, his expression steely. “Now we’re on a time crunch. No doubt that little trap also sent off a warning to Atlas, so- so I expect we’ll be seein’ more guards any minute now.”

As much as Jimmy would like to rest longer, he knows Bravo’s right. “Okay,” he huffs, pushing off the wall. “Lead the way.”

They set off again on foot, moving quickly now that stealth is out of the question. Jimmy spares a moment to be thankful that Bravo is with them. These halls all look the same to him, but Bravo seems to know where he’s going, even after their chaotic flight.

Jimmy pulls his communicator out as they go. Glancing down at chat, he winces; Impulse and Etho were killed by the ravager as well, so they’re truly on their own here. Even though the others will have come back through the portal after respawning on Double Life, they won’t be able to find their way through this facility to meet up again.

In fact, Bravo had advised against it. Their contingency plan, in the event that anyone was killed, is to stay by the portal. Now that Hels Tek knows they’re here, it’s more important than ever to defend it and make sure it stays open. Besides, if people started wandering off on their own, it would only increase the likelihood of someone getting captured, lost, or left behind.

So right now, the four of them are all Tango’s got. 

(Oh, I can’t wait for-)

(Shh, don’t ruin it, just watch.)

That’s not worrying at all. This is fine. This is fine, they can handle it. He just needs to keep his head, stay the course. Failure isn’t an option. Failure would mean leaving Tango trapped here, and Jimmy refuses to let that happen. So he’s got to keep going, stay alert, stay focused-

“Stop,” Pearl says suddenly, grabbing Scott by the arm. “We’re ‘bout to have company.”

No sooner has she finished her sentence than five guards turn the corner at a sprint, swords bristling.

Wings unfurling, Pearl jumps into the air, allowing Scott to rain down arrows from above. They hang back to provide aerial support, giving Jimmy and Bravo the floor.

Jimmy spreads his wings, shooting forward to scoop Bravo beneath the arms. He flies straight at the guards, gaining speed, before spinning mid-air to launch Bravo at the nearest of them.

Bravo comes down on the guard with his sword, stabbing through the curve where their neck meets their shoulder. Jimmy dives after him and slams a foot down on the sword, driving it deeper into the guard’s body- deep enough to slip into their chest cavity. 

Blood splatters on Jimmy’s face. The guard explodes into a shower of respawn smoke and items.

Jimmy lands on his feet in a crouch, and Bravo vaults over him to kick another guard back. Straightening up, Jimmy equips his sword and catches Bravo’s eyes for a heartbeat, understanding passing between them.

There’s no discussion. They charge forward together, fighting side by side.

The last time Jimmy fought Hels players, it didn’t go well, and he’s still got the crooked nose to prove it. He’ll be the first to admit his PVP skills are lacking. But this time, the slowness from Scott’s arrows makes all the difference.

Dodging the next guard’s swing, Jimmy retaliates with a wide sweep of his own, their swords locking with a screech and a shower of sparks. In the same breath, Bravo ducks in between them and plunges his sword up- under the bottom of the guard’s chestplate, into their stomach.

Poof.

Jimmy uses the momentum to charge forward, bringing his sword down on the next guard’s helmet. It’s a clumsy but heavy blow- the guard staggers, and Bravo whips around to slash through their neck. Blood sprays through the air.

Two down, three to go.

On any other day, under any other circumstances, Jimmy knows he wouldn’t have stood a chance. Even now, he hasn’t miraculously developed the strength to overpower these bigger Hels players, nor the speed and knowledge to execute those clean, skillful attacks like Bravo.

But he doesn’t need to. All it takes is a strike to unbalance his opponent, to keep their attention, draw their defense. He’s the larger target, and with the slowness arrows doing their part, the guards can’t react fast enough as Bravo twists around them to deliver the killing blow.

Slash, jab- poof.

The last guard’s slowness has worn off at this point, but it’s too late. Jimmy’s already there; a powerful flap of his wings takes his feet off the ground to strike out at the guard, kicking with all his might.

Clang!

It hits the guard square in the chest, toppling them backwards. They land hard, and Bravo springs on top of themt, plunging his sword down right between their eyes.

Splat, poof.

Bravo straightens up, wiping the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. Jimmy braces his hands on his knees for a moment as his heart rate comes down. They’re both bloody and out of breath, but they managed not to take a single hit. And sure, the slowness arrows helped a lot, but Jimmy will take his wins where he can.

Bravo gives him an appraising look. “Nice job.”

Jimmy cracks a grin. “I have my moments.”

“Oh-kay,” Scott whistles as he and Pearl catch up, “go off, Timmy!”

Oof, that feels strange- but it’s just a force of habit, Jimmy knows. He glances over his shoulder at them. “Thanks for the cover fire. You guys good?”

“Yep.” Pearl nods expectantly. “Lead on.”

Bravo flicks the excess blood off his sword, speckling the white walls. “Alright, the south wing is just through here.” He nods toward the iron door at the end of the hallway. “Let’s go.”

They start moving again. Residual adrenaline itches across Jimmy’s skin, the metallic scent of blood clogging his nose. He’s surprised with their brutality himself, but he doesn’t regret it. There’s no reason to hold back here. These players are standing between him and getting Tango back, so it has to be done.

He’s honestly more surprised at how well he and Bravo fought together- as if they’d rehearsed it. Not what he would’ve expected, considering the way they butt heads, his own lack of expertise, and the fact that they were on opposite sides of a fight just earlier today. 

But privately, he’s just glad he didn’t make an absolute fool of himself. There’s a reason he’s always been out first in their death games.

Once they reach the door, Bravo motions for them all to crouch before nodding at Pearl. She listens for a moment, antennae twitching, before she holds up two fingers.

Bravo doesn’t bother with the keycard this time. Pulling out his pickaxe, he breaks the door down- and Pearl and Scott swoop through.

There’s an aborted shout, the sound of arrows flying, and the clang of a sword. By the time Jimmy’s through the doorway, Pearl is standing down the hall amidst a scattering of dropped items, sword lax at her side and a fierce grin on her blood-stained face.

“Jeeze, Pearl!” Scott says, raising his eyebrows and lowering his bow.

Pearl glances over her shoulder at them, expression growing sheepish. “I’m sorry, I think I got a little bit crazy…”

Jimmy flutters over to them, Bravo in tow. “No, no, I- don’t be sorry, I’m…” he trails off as he takes in the sign next to the door, the one the guards were posted outside.

It says ‘Tango Tek.’ Jimmy feels his blood boil.

“Well, this is it.” Bravo glances at Pearl and Scott. “You two keep watch out here, alright?” Then he unlocks the door, holding it open for Jimmy. “Come on.”

Jimmy rushes inside, Bravo following after him. But the sight that greets them makes him stop cold, anger quickly giving way to shock and horror.

He knew, roughly, what all the blaze farm entailed. But he’s still not prepared to actually see it.

Behind a wall of glass, Tango’s suspended by iron chains inside a little one-by-two chamber. Wither roses sprout from the soul sand beneath him, long vines wound tightly around his body, thorns digging into his skin. Particles of regeneration bubble around him, but the withering is clearly causing damage; the blaze rods above Tango’s head respawn as quickly as they’re sucked away by hoppers.

Tango looks absolutely miserable. He hangs limp and lifeless in his chains- but as the door clicks shut behind them, he lifts his head and manages a tired smile.

“Hey, honey,” he rasps, “good to see ya.”

“Tango!” Jimmy flies over, his eyes stinging with sudden tears. Their health might not be linked in this world, but his heart aches for Tango all the same. “Tango, oh gosh, I- I’m so sorry. I’m here, I’m here.” He pulls out his pickaxe and sets to shattering the glass wall.

“Sorry we took so long,” Bravo adds, walking up beside Jimmy. “We had a uh, unforeseen complication… there may have been ninja ravager airdrop-ification involved.” As soon as the glass is gone, he starts cutting the wither rose vines off Tango with careful slices of his sword.

Tango huffs a hoarse laugh. “Oh, oh great. Guess our buddy’s Atlas has been busy these last few weeks, huh?”

With the wither roses cut away, he seems to be breathing easier, now. And thankfully, they don’t look to have left any new wither stains on his skin. Jimmy hopes that the lingering regeneration effect will take care of the rest.

“Okay, okay, hang on…” he murmurs, turning his attention to the chains. His eyes widen as he realizes just how many are locked around Tango’s body- his arms, his legs, the collar around his neck. “Jeeze, this is- they went absolutely mental with these. Overkill much?”

“I know, right?” Tango snorts. “It’s- it’s almost flattering, in a way.”

Fortunately, they all seem to be made of regular run-of-the-mill iron with no complicated redstone bits. It’s easy enough for him and Bravo to slip their tools in between the links and give a sharp twist to snap them. Working quickly but methodically, they break the chains in an order that won’t awkwardly drop Tango to the ground- or choke him out by the collar around his throat. And as the last chains fall away, leaving only his old cuffs around his wrists, Jimmy’s right there to catch him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, easing Tango to the floor. “I mean- sorry, that’s- that’s a dumb question-”

“No, no, I’m okay,” Tango says. He’s trembling slightly and clinging to Jimmy so tight it’s just shy of being painful, but his red eyes are bright, and he grins at Jimmy with all his sharp, lovely teeth. “I’m okay.”

It’s hard to imagine how Tango is still functioning after what he’s been through. From the emotional side of things, too, not just physically. Being locked back in that farm must’ve not only been painful, but the realization of his worst nightmare, the one that’s chased him for nearly a decade. The culmination of all his deepest fears and insecurities, his self-hatred and feelings of worthlessness… being reduced to nothing more than a mob whose only use is in a farm. Even done intentionally, as part of a plan, it takes a lot of strength to overcome something like that.

Yet strangely enough, Jimmy believes him. There’s a change in Tango’s eyes- it’s like nothing Jimmy’s seen before, not even back in those peaceful days they spent together before this whole Hels mess started. Back then, Tango had been hiding from his past. Haunted by it. Only through hindsight has Jimmy realized just how badly it was affecting Tango all that time, the host of subtle little things he’d brushed off suddenly clicking together and making sense.

So only now does he see what Tango looks like without that fear hanging over him. The shadow that’s gone from his eyes. They’re fierce and determined and alive in a way that sends chills across Jimmy’s skin. While he knows for a fact that they’ve found joy and contentment and love together, it’s apparent that only now does Tango feel free.

No doubt there’s still a long road ahead of them. But for this step, right now, Jimmy couldn’t be more proud of his soulmate.

He presses a kiss to Tango’s forehead. “Well- good, but it’d be okay if you weren’t, y’know?”

Tango’s smile turns fond. “I know.”

Bravo clears his throat. “Hey, uh, if you two are done cuddling, we need to get moving. Most of the others got wiped out,” he explains, putting his pickaxe away, “so they’ll be waitin’ for us back at the portal. But first, we gotta find Atlas.”

Tango knits his brows together. “All this excitement probably drew him out of his hole. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on his way here right now.”

“Good.” Bravo nods. “Saves us the trouble of trackin’ him down. All we gotta do is make him open his ender chest to get the key, right, and then we’re outta here.”

Jimmy helps Tango to his feet. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Tango assures him. “That regen is powerful stuff.”

He’s still a little shaky for Jimmy’s taste, but true to his word, he stands on his own. Jimmy turns to the door. “Right. Let’s-”

“Watch out!”

Pearl’s voice cries out from the hallway. There’s the distinct twang of a bow firing, a shout from Scott- only to be cut short.

Jimmy sprints through the door, followed closely by Tango and Bravo.

Two more piles of items are on the floor. Down at the end of the hallway stands Atlas with a raised crossbow and an arrow in his shoulder, flanked by half a dozen guards.

Atlas’s black lab coat cuts a sharp figure against the quartz walls, like a shadow come to life, light flashing in his shades. Slowly, he lowers his crossbow and reaches up to pull the arrow out, unflinching, as that sickly grin splits across his face.

“Well, well, well.”

(Speak of the devil.)

~*~

As soon as Tango sees Atlas, he steps in front of Jimmy, a low growl starting in his throat.

Now that he’s out of the farm and away from the wither roses, his adrenaline is kicking into overdrive. His muscles are rife with tension, ears twitching, and his heart pounds against his chest.

He takes in the scene quickly. Behind them is a dead end, and the other direction is blocked; Atlas, tossing a bloody arrow to the ground, and six guards. They’re all big, burly humans with mean faces. Most of them brandish swords, while two of them have tridents with what looks like a net of chains strung inbetween. Do they have net launch-ification technology?

“I was hoping I’d catch you three together,” Atlas drawls, folding his arms behind his back. Slowness particles bubble out of his shoulder wound like blood. “Mr. Bravo, I must say, I was rather disappointed to discover your treachery.”

Bravo scowls. “Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit what you think about me.”

Amused, Atlas’s gaze slowly travels over to Tango. “And how did you manage to turn him to your side, hm, Tango?” His lip curls. “Manipulative little monster.”

Tango hardly processes the insult, but Jimmy’s wings puff up indignantly. “Don’t call him that!”

“You know,” Atlas continues, unbothered, “all that’s going to come of this little escape mission is the addition of some new farms to my collection.” He grins at Jimmy. “Starting with you.” 

The guards throw their tridents in tandem, launching the net across the hall.

Tango dives out of the way, but Jimmy isn’t fast enough. The net knocks him flat onto his back, pinned into place by the weight of the chains and the tridents embedded in the floor. He cries out in pain, and only now can Tango see that the net is studded with wither rose thorns, piercing Jimmy’s skin.

Tango sees red.

A snarl tears itself out of his throat. He charges forward to meet the attacking guards, leaping into the air and slashing the nearest one across the face. 

The guard howls with pain, striking out blindly. Their sword grazes Tango’s arm but he hardly notices it, hardly even feels the sting, too focused on sinking his teeth into their throat. The instant the guard disappears, he’s darting away, on to the next one.

Tango’s senses are hyper-alert, nose flaring at the scent of blood. His pulse thrums in his ears. He’s scarcely aware of Bravo fighting beside him, just a blur in his periphery. A distant part of him is aware of how savage he’s being, but he can’t bring himself to care.

If they want to treat him like a monster, then he’ll fight them like one, too.

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question the feel of his claws tearing through flesh. There’s something primal inside him shrieking with bloodlust, and he’s more than happy to oblige it. It feels good. It feels natural. Like he’s been fighting with his right hand all his life only to discover he’s a leftie. No wonder traditional PVP has never been his strength; in this one way, perhaps he is more mob than player.

And he’s perfectly fine with that.

By the time Tango reaches Atlas, his slowness effect has worn off. He’s locked in combat with Bravo, swords clashing in a series of rapid jabs and slashes- a skillful and deadly dance. It’s clear he’s got plenty of experience with PVP, trading blows with Bravo like it’s nothing, as simple and instinctive as breathing.

But he isn’t prepared for Tango to leap at him like an animal, claws outstretched and teeth bared.

Atlas dodges, but it’s a near thing. He’s thrown off-balance, scrambling to back up as Tango advances with another wild swipe- it tears through the front of his lab coat, carving a shallow gash across his chest. He brings his sword up to parry but it doesn’t catch Tango’s claws like it would another blade- a costly miscalculation that sends his sword flying from his grasp.

It clatters loudly to the ground. Bravo takes the opening; he jabs the point of his sword into Atlas’s leg, behind the kneecap, and twists.

Pop!

This time Atlas doesn’t hold back his scream. He goes down instantly, his right leg no longer able to support him. Bravo kicks Atlas’s sword away, out of reach, before grabbing Atlas by the collar and throwing him at the wall. He slumps against it, injured leg curled awkwardly beneath him, breathing raggedly but making no move to rise again.

All six of the guards are dead, respawned away and leaving behind a blood bath.

It’s over.

And just like that, Tango’s calm again, pausing to catch his breath. He hasn’t lost himself completely to the rage of a bloodthirsty animal. He hasn’t surrendered his rational thought or his sense of being. It happened, and now it’s passed. Just like if he’d fought with sword and shield over claws and teeth. He almost feels silly, to have ever feared otherwise.

He glances at Bravo; they’ve both sustained a few minor cuts and bruises, but overall, nothing serious. “Hold him there,” he tells Bravo, before turning to run back down the hall. “Hang on, Jimmy!”

Jimmy is right where Tango left him, struggling beneath the chain net. He’s managed to work one arm out from under it, trying in vain to free himself, but he can’t get the right leverage on the tridents anchoring the net to the ground. Tango falls to his knees and rips one of the tridents away, tossing it aside, and starts pulling the net back.

Jimmy pushes himself upright with a pained grunt, shoving the last of the chains off. There are dozens of little marks dotted across his skin, like a constellation of inky pin pricks- leftover from the wither thorns.

Tango throws his arms around Jimmy. “God, are- are you okay, honey?” he asks frantically, pulling away to study Jimmy’s face.

Jimmy shudders. “Man, that wither rose is brutal,” he says, aghast. “How’d you stand it?”

Despite it all, Tango manages to crack a smile. “Well, you know, I’m basically part furnace,” he says, straightening up and offering Jimmy his hand.

Jimmy huffs a faint laugh, letting Tango pull him to his feet. The black spots are already starting to vanish, to Tango’s immense relief. He doesn’t think he could handle it if Jimmy ended up with permanent wither stains.

He doesn’t let go of Jimmy’s hand as they walk down the hall together. Bravo steps back when they approach, though he keeps his gaze and his sword trained on Atlas.

Atlas’s face is pale and sheened with sweat, but he still grins at them. “Well, well,” he breathes, struggling to his feet. His right leg won’t support him; he braces a hand against the wall. “Seems you caught me off-guard, Mr. Tango. I wasn’t expecting you to embrace that monstrous nature of yours so willingly.”

Tango shrugs. “Sure, why not? Some of my best friends are monsters.”

Clearly, Atlas wasn’t expecting that response. But he only falters for a moment before his grin returns to full strength. “This is pointless. You’ll never make it-”

“Hey, hey, no one asked you,” Bravo snaps, placing down an ender chest. “Now no funny business, okay, or I’ll break all your fucking fingers.”

Atlas eyes him for a moment, as if debating the validity of the threat and whether or not he’d be able to escape. But ultimately he must decide it’s not worth it, because he flips the ender chest open, reaches inside, and withdraws a familiar iron key.

Tango’s breath catches. Despite how well their plan has worked so far, part of him wasn’t expecting to actually make it this far. It’s almost too good to be true, but it seems like Atlas has finally run out of tricks.

Atlas holds the key out with a flourish. “Your prize,” he sneers.

Jimmy’s quick to snatch it from him, shooting him a glare. He softens as he turns to Tango. “Here, can I…?”

“Please do,” Tango hums nervously, lifting his chin. 

“Alright, here goes.” Jimmy puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder to steady him, reaching forward with the other to slip the key into its lock.

There’s a click, and the collar falls away, clattering to the ground.

Tango inhales sharply at the feel of wither thorns pulling out of his skin. The relief is immediate; his blaze rods ignite with renewed fire, warmth spreading through his body all the way to the tips of his clawed fingers. It’s tingly, like moving a limb after it’s fallen asleep, but he’s glad for it.

He sees his relief reflected in Jimmy’s expression- though it’s quickly replaced with a wince as his gaze traces Tango’s neck.

Tango exhales. “It stained, huh.”

Jimmy swallows, eyes full of anger and sorrow. “I’m so sorry.”

Tango’s almost surprised by how little it bothers him. “Hey, no problem,” he says easily, reaching up to squeeze Jimmy’s hand. “I mean, I’ve got such a unique style already, I- I feel like it’ll fit in perfectly. A little studded choker action, right?”

That manages to get a laugh out of Jimmy, though he wipes at his eyes. “Right, yeah. You pull it off well.”

Bravo clears his throat. “Okay, so, we good?” He jerks his chin at Atlas. “Let’s kill this asshole and get moving.”

“This doesn’t change anything,” Atlas says mildly, leveling his gaze at Tango. “You’ll always be nothing more than a monster-”

“Shut up!” Jimmy takes a step forward, gripping his sword, but Tango puts a hand out.

He knows they don’t have time to linger very long, but he’s got unfinished business with Atlas. Before he walks out of here, he needs to say his piece, because if he doesn’t, he knows he’ll never fully shake Atlas’s hold on him.

“You know,” he starts thoughtfully, “I- I’m startin’ to think that term isn’t the uh, the moral condemnation that you think it is. The way I see it, it’s like- okay, I’m a blond, I’m a redstoner, I’m a monster, yada-yada-yada. They’re just… traits, right? Like, sorta… physical descriptors without any, er- particular positive or negative connotation attached. ‘Cause uh, bein’ a monster doesn’t automatically make me a bad person- same way being a human doesn’t make you a good one.” He tilts his head. “I mean, you’re one of the shittiest people I’ve ever met, so.” 

Atlas is still grinning, but there’s a sudden shiftiness in his eyes that makes Tango pause. Almost like he’s hiding something. The gears start to turn in Tango’s mind.

“So uh,” he continues, “if you genuinely think our biology or- or data is what determines the choices that we make, and the kinda person we become, then… you’ve gotta be pretty stupid.”

There- Atlas’s face twitches.

Bravo seems to pick up on where Tango’s going. “Yeah, same for Hels players,” he says, crossing his arms. “I mean, basing the whole idea of ‘the inherent evilness of Hels’ on a little bit of data analysis? I- I can’t believe I bought into such a poorly supported theory, it’s just- it’s shoddy science.”

Jimmy gives Atlas a reproachful look. “Tango has shown himself to be one of the most caring, generous, and brilliant people I’ve ever met,” he spits. “You think that’s not possible, just because he’s part mob? Then honestly, I feel sorry for ya, mate.”

Tango’s heart swells; Jimmy doesn’t seem to realize what they’re doing, he’s just coming to Tango’s defense anyway. “I know, right?” he laughs. Then, just to really drive the point home- “And here I always thought you were the smart one-”

“Of course I know that!” Atlas finally explodes, throwing an arm out. “I’ve always known that! You think I grew up in this world truly believing that humans weren’t just as capable of depravity? That hybrids weren’t our intellectual or moral equals? No, I’ve always known. But portraying you as a vicious, mindless monster makes you easier to exploit. And I’ve not only convinced my sponsors, clients, and employees of that, but I even got you to believe it, yourself!”

His grin is truly manic now, eyes wild and blazing with fury behind his shades. “Do you know how clever I had to be to pull off such a degree of dehumanization? How methodically and painstakingly I wove that narrative over decades of work? ‘Shoddy science’?! It was my magnum fucking opus!”

A stunned silence follows his outburst. Tango lets out a slow, heavy breath, and Atlas’s anger quickly drains from his face as he realizes the weight of what he’s just revealed.

It wasn’t Tango’s fault.

He was never too monstrous, too chaotic, too evil. Sure, he’s got his vices, but who doesn’t? Claws or not, no one is perfect. Now he knows that it was never anything he did to bring Atlas’s torture onto himself, nothing he ever did to deserve it, because even Atlas doesn’t believe that. Atlas did it because he’s evil, and cared more about producing a revolutionary new farm than considering the harm it would do to a fellow player. He could’ve done the same to any other mob hybrid- and in fact, still fully intends to.

It’s nothing to do with who Tango is as a person, and all to do with the blaze rods floating above his head. Nothing else. Tango can live with that.

Bravo shakes his head, incredulous. “Son of a bitch…”

But Tango smiles. “Thanks, Atlas,” he says sincerely, “I needed to hear that.” 

Then he punches Atlas in the face.

The resounding crack is immensely satisfying. Atlas’s head snaps to the side, glasses and spit flying as he falls backwards. Tango’s hand is aching but it’s worth it to see Atlas look so… human. Gone is the unnatural grin and that tall, dark figure who always loomed so large in Tango’s mind. Right now, he’s just a man sprawled on his ass whose blood is staining Tango’s knuckles.

(He’s got a feeling Atlas won’t be showing up that much in his nightmares from now on.)

Atlas pushes himself up and spits out a tooth- one of his upper incisors. Blood streams down his nose and trickles out of his parted mouth. He stares up at Tango, and without his tinted glasses, Tango realizes their eyes are exactly the same shade of red.

“Clever devil,” Atlas breathes.

Bravo steps forward to deliberately crush Atlas’s shades under his shoe. “Always gotta be the smartest one in the goddamn room, huh?” he asks, twirling his sword in his hand.

Sching!

Tango briefly glimpses the inside of Atlas’s skull before he respawns away, blood and brain matter painting the wall.

“Good riddance,” Jimmy sniffs.

Bravo glances at Tango. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Tango grins. “After you, good sir.”

The three of them take off, leaving the south wing- and the farm- behind. 

Their pounding footsteps echo loudly in the empty halls. It doesn’t take Tango long to recognize where they’re headed. The garage makes sense, considering they used Clear to open the portal. He’s surprised, however, that they don’t encounter any guards along the way. There’s plenty of evidence of them; items littering the hallways, blood smears on the floor. But not a single player to be found.

If Tango didn’t know better, he’d chalk it up to good luck. But of course, once they burst through the door to the garage, the true reason immediately becomes apparent.

Nearly the entire workforce of Hels Tek, scientists and security guards alike, are embroiled in battle with the Double Lifers. It’s a chaotic scene, the air filled with shouts and screams and the clashing of metal-

Cleo stands tall beside the portal, bodily throwing any opponent who attempts to sneak through, while Ren slashes at them with his massive claws-

Grian and Pearl are airbound, zipping around the garage while carrying Scar and Scott, respectively, who fire arrows into the crowd-

Etho and Joel fight back to back, shields raised against the heavy blows of their bigger opponents, while Martyn tosses a potion into the air-

Bravo whips around to decapitate the player that charges through the door behind them. “We can’t stay here!” he shouts above the noise.

Heart pounding, Tango scans the room. Movement catches his eye; Impulse, waving at them from behind a parked flying machine.

Tango makes a beeline for it, trusting that Jimmy and Bravo are following. Dodging swords and arrows alike, they manage to reach their target unimpeded, diving behind the cover of the large contraption.

Impulse pulls Tango into a quick hug. “You made it!”

He’s crouched beside Bdubs, who’s got one leg stretched out, riddled with arrows. “Well, look here- lookie who it is!” he crows. “Nice’a you guys to join us!”

Tango manages a breathless laugh. “How we lookin’?”

“Not great,” Impulse frowns, “we can’t go through ‘til they’re all dead, or else they’ll follow us before we can break the portal on the other side. But we can’t kill them fast enough- they just keep respawning and coming back.”

Tango dares to peek around the flying machine. The fighting is pretty thick, and centered in the middle of the garage. If there was a way to create some sort of barrier in front of the portal that would hold Hels Tek back long enough for everyone to escape… something that they had full control over, and would persist even after they left… 

Sudden realization seizes him.

“I’ll take care of it,” he says, turning away. “Get everyone through, now-”

Jimmy catches his arm. “Hold on, where are you going?” he demands.

Tango shakes him off. “Don’t worry. Just get to the portal, alright-”

“Uh, ‘scuse me? We’re in this together, right-”

“There’s no time-”

“I’m not leavin’ without you!”

“- you to get hurt!”

“Please, Tango.” Jimmy grabs his shoulders, voice filled with desperation. “I- I can’t lose you.”

Tango softens. He takes Jimmy’s face in his hands and pulls him into a kiss, slow and reverent. “You won’t,” he murmurs, easing back to smile at him. “I promise.”

Jimmy searches his expression for a moment before relenting. “Alright,” he whispers, squeezing Tango’s hand. “Go get ‘em, babe.”

Steeling himself, Tango steps back out onto the battlefield.

A strange sense of calm settles over him. All the noise is muted in his ears, like he’s underwater, the sea of movement a blur. He moves with an ease that’s entirely foreign to him, lightly twisting through and around the writhing mass of bodies until he’s standing alone in front of the portal.

Tango closes his eyes and reaches for his fire.

Flames erupt from his blaze rods, swirling madly and spitting embers. It grows into a cyclone around him, ebbing and flowing with his breath, expanding to envelop him completely. The flames wash harmlessly over his skin; his own fire can never hurt him. There’s no hesitation inside him- no doubt, no fear.

He’s entirely in control, the captain of his own personal firestorm.

Tango opens his eyes and pushes his hands out and up, directing the flames to spread and rise into a great, fiery wall. Arrows shot his way are incinerated instantly, exploding into ash. As he concentrates on his task, he’s aware of his friends in his periphery, and is careful to keep the fire from reaching them.

The Hels Tek players receive no such care. Anyone too slow to react or too bold to flee is readily consumed, the room filling with their screams and the scent of burning flesh. Using smooth, delicate movements, Tango closes the wall into a ring of fire around the portal, as focused and steady as an artist composing a painting.

This is his magnum opus. Blaze and player perfectly united as one being, at peace in mind and body.

Once it’s complete, he steps back out of the flames. He takes a long, final look around the place. The remaining Hels Tek players watch from behind the firewall, furious but helpless to stop him. All the Double Lifers have departed, with the exception of Jimmy, who is waiting by the portal. Firelight glimmers in his deep brown eyes, face glowing with awe and pride.

Smiling, Tango turns his back to Hels Tek and walks over to his soulmate, taking the offered hand.

“Ready to get outta here?” Jimmy asks softly.

“Yeah,” Tango says, “let’s go home, honey.”

Together, they step into the portal. Tango turns his head just in time to see Atlas burst into the room, frantically shoving his way through to the front of the crowd. He locks eyes with Tango through the flames.

“No!” he shouts, and Tango is much gratified to see that Atlas’s front tooth is still missing after his respawn. His trademark grin is gonna look so goddamn stupid now.

Tango turns away, looking into Jimmy’s eyes as light swirls around them. 

~*~

Atlas sits hunched on a rock outside, cast in the shadow of Hels Tek.

The facility is still burning, thick smoke billowing out of shattered windows that flicker with light. He can hear the distant roars of a ravager inside; the guards he sent in to recapture the beast have thus far been unsuccessful. The flames will likely take it soon, along with all the other mobs locked away in their various farms.

What a waste.

Most of his personnel have given up on trying to stop the fire. They mill about uselessly, stained with soot and blood, speaking in low tones and casting not-so-subtle glances in his direction. Clear is running around in a panic, ranting to anyone who will listen about how he needs to find Scáil. It was his doppelgänger they used to open the portal, as Atlas has come to find.

Of course.

Part of him is aware of what a poor sight he makes; his lab coat rumpled and dusted with ash, his sweaty hair mussed and plastered to his forehead. Without his shades, there’s no hiding how tired his eyes must look, set into his haggard face. And his normally commanding posture is weak and weary, entirely lacking any presence of control.

Worst of all, though, is that he can’t bring himself to care.

His communicator lies forgotten in his lap, chat blinking up at him. He’s scrolled through it all a dozen times already, mentally replaying the sequence of events over and over again- though he has yet to make sense of it.

Absently, he presses his tongue into the gap left by his missing tooth.

(All the while, his mind is spinning. How had he missed it? How had he missed it? To be outsmarted by Tango and Bravo, of all people… they’d shown him exactly what he wanted to see, and he hadn’t thought to question it. He was too eager to believe that his manipulation had paid off, that he’d turned Bravo against his own doppelgänger and convinced Tango to give up.

His shame is rivaled only by his hatred. All the work he’s done in the last ten years, all his patient waiting and careful planning, his effort, his progress, has gone up in smoke. It’s not just the physical damage to the facility that concerns him; no doubt word is already starting to spread. He rebuilt himself from bedrock bottom once before, and he isn’t sure if he can do it again-)

“Hey man,” a familiar voice calls. “Rough day?”

bX is walking up to him, followed by a large group of players- hired muscle from Alisker. Their appearance quickly gets everyone’s attention, a sudden hush falling over the area as all eyes turn their way.

Heart jolting, Atlas jumps to his feet. He hastily smoothes the front of his coat. “Mr. bX, I can explain-”

“Save it.” bX waves him off. “We already know what happened. And uh, I gotta say… Papa Al isn’t happy.”

Atlas’s stomach drops. He folds his arms behind his back, trying for a placating smile. “I’ll admit, the situation got slightly out of hand, but-”

“I don’t think you get how bad this is,” bX says lightly, tilting his head. He raises his voice to address the gathered crowd. “Papa Al is repossessing all of Hels Tek’s resources and assets, effective immediately. We’ll honor the contracts of anyone who wants to stay employed, but uh… yeah, we’re done here.”

He lifts a hand, and the group behind him disperses. Setting up piles of chests and shulkers, they descend upon Hels Tek with pickaxes in hand, throwing down splash potions of fire resistance as they go. Then, to Atlas’s horror, they start to dismantle the facility, block by block.

“No, stop!” Atlas protests. He tries to rush forward, but bX casually steps forward to block his path. “This is my life’s work, you can’t do that-”

“Oh, yeah?” bX puts his hands on his hips, amused. “Are… you gonna stop us? ‘Cause uh, looks to me like your employees don’t mind.”

Atlas hates that he’s right; no one is lifting a finger to stop them. In fact, a few of them move forward to help. “Mr. bX, please reconsider-”

“Sorry, but you’re out of chances, Atlas,” bX chuckles. “From now on, all of New Helington’s redstone needs will be fulfilled by someone else. I actually think you know him, it’s Instinct E.V., over at iRaid?”

Fuck. “What?!” Atlas demands, eyes widening. “You can’t be serious! Instinct is a charlatan- all he cares about is churning out the cheapest, quickest product for the masses. He’s not an innovator, he’s not interested in expanding our scientific horizons-”

“So?” bX shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to Papa Al so long as it’s profitable.”

“But he’s already invested so much into Hels Tek, into hybrid farming-”

“Yeah, uh... about that…” bX inhales through his teeth. “He’s not, like… super attached to the whole idea.”

Atlas splutters. “What do you mean? How could you possibly say that-”

He stops. bX just blinked sideways, a clear membrane sliding across eyes that suddenly have slitted pupils. He grins with teeth that are inexplicably sharp, and for a brief moment, the skin on his neck flaps up to reveal gills.

Then he blinks again, and his appearance shifts back to that of a human.

A chill runs down Atlas’s spine. “You..?” he breathes, taking a step back. “But… why? Why would Alisker fund me if he knew I was after hybrids?”

bX hums noncommittally. “Y’know, when an up-and-coming redstone entrepreneur comes to Papa Al with a revolutionary new idea, it can go a couple ways. If he turned you down, he knew you’d just go get sponsored by one of his rivals, and then he wouldn’t have any power over you. You’d become a threat. So he took you up on it, making sure he’d be able to keep you under his thumb. And hey, if your idea was successful, then he’d make a nice profit while also making sure you never came close to me. No harm, no foul.”

“But if your idea wasn’t successful?” he continues, quirking a brow. “If you failed again and again, despite all his generous support? Well, then clearly the problem lies with you, and no other bigshot in Hels would be crazy enough to give you another chance. Not after seeing how much time and effort Papa Al sunk into you, with no return on his investment.”

“And sure, yeah, he could’ve tried to shut you down at the start with threats and intimidation.” He scratches casually at his beard. “Could’ve had me break every bone in your body, or trap you in a death loop ‘til you got the message. But that’d be too suspicious- why would Papa Al have a reason to be against hybrid farming? It’d be exposing a weak spot for his rivals to strike. So instead he decided to do things this way, and kill you in the only way that matters.”

Without warning, bX swings his fist into Atlas’s stomach. Gasping in pain, Atlas doubles over, and bX leans in to speak lowly in his ear.

“Your name is dirt, now. I hope you enjoyed your time at the top of the redstone game, ‘cause you’ll never reach it again.” He turns his back to Atlas, pausing to call over his shoulder, “But hey, cheer up... they’re always hiring at iRaid.”

bX walks away, laughing.

Atlas falls to his knees. He watches helplessly as his entire world is destroyed and, despite the hatred churning inside him, he knows that he’s the only one to blame.

~*~

Somewhere in Hermitcraft, a player stands before a crowd.

“So, uh- that’s pretty much it,” Tango finishes, clapping his hands together. “Any questions?”

The Hermits look back at him, speechless. It took a while to get through the entire explanation, to manage the waves of shock and anger and sorrow as they came. But now that the story’s finished, and he’s emphasized just how okay he’s doing now- while also announcing he’ll be taking a little vacation to Double Life, they seem to have finally settled on acceptance.

It was easier than he thought it’d be, to tell the rest of his friends about his past. But having a few of them already aware of the situation helped a lot- Impulse, Bdubs, Etho, Cleo, Ren, Pearl, Grian, Mumbo, and Scar were very supportive the whole way through. They even hang around to answer questions about the whole Hels Tek ordeal, offloading some of the work from Tango.

As Tango mills about among the Hermits, there’s still plenty to talk about. He gets some apologies for things said or done that might’ve unknowingly harmed him- “I’m so sorry for puttin’ you in a lab,” Zedaph cringes, “I- I feel so foolish!”- which are unnecessary but appreciated. There are technical questions about the portals and counterparts- “Do you think I could get a look at your comm, sometime, maybe?” Doc asks, trying and failing to not sound suspicious- which Tango answers as best he can. A few of them even say things that make him raise an eyebrow- “Hey, uh, d’you think you could swing by my base when you get back?” False asks lowly. “For- for no reason.”- which makes him think he’s far from the only Hermit with secrets.

And of course, he gets a lot of reassurances and condolences, which doesn’t surprise him at this point. But still, it’s nice to know he’s fully accepted by his friends, and it feels amazing to finally come clean about it all.

Later, Grian takes him aside. “See? I told you, nothin’ to worry about.”

“Oh yeah, fly boy?” Tango asks, folding his arms. “So are you- does that mean you’re gonna tell everyone what’s up with you?”

“Nah, nah, nah.” Grian shakes his head with a wry grin. “Later. I- I don’t wanna steal your thunder, here.”

Tango snorts. “Oh, trust me, I- I would love to have some of my thunder stolen right now.”

All the attention is a bit uncomfortable- but he knows it comes from a genuine place of sympathy and concern. He was prepared for it as soon as he decided it was time to fill the rest of the Hermits in. Talking about it all isn’t as hard as it was before, even just a couple weeks ago, and he has a feeling it’s only going to get easier from here on out.

He’s looking forward to it.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player lounges in a pool.

Water laps at Alisker’s shoulders. bX’s scales are warm against his skin, the other man draped lazily across Alisker’s chest. His tail curls behind him, orange fins cutting through the water while his legs float listlessly. He’s stopped breathing, letting his gills take over respiration for now; a stillness that, while eerie at first, Alisker has grown familiar with over time.

The lavish private pool, tucked away through a hidden door in his office, has become a sort of sanctuary for them both. A place where Alisker can escape the pressures of his work, and bX can safely indulge his guardian hybrid instincts. Today, though, it’s a celebration of sorts.

“Tell me again, queenie,” Alisker coos, lightly stroking the spines along bX’s back. His fingers trace scars from the Arena, transferred from skin to scales.

“He looked like shit,” bX chuckles. “Missing a tooth, front and center. I told him- I said, ‘sorry, bud, you’re out of chances,’ and punched him in the gut for good measure.”

Alisker hums with satisfaction. Seeds of doubt he’d planted in Bravo’s mind years ago, regarding Atlas, have since flourished- nurtured further by Instinct’s aid during his time of need. In the end, he helped Tango escape Hels Tek, giving Alisker the ammunition to take Atlas down once and for all.

“He couldn’t do anything,” bX continues, “and he knew it. He just watched us take it all down. Oh, man, if you could’ve seen his face…”

Alisker tips bX’s chin up to kiss him, deep and languid, unflinching against his sharp teeth. “It’s about time,” he grins. “I been sick’a dat guy for years. See ya, Hels Tekky! Buh-bye!”

“Buh-bye, that’s right,” bX laughs.

The future of New Hellington is bright.

~*~ 

Somewhere in Double Life, a player stands in front of a portal.

It’s a standard comm portal, filled with swirling green light. Whenever Bravo looks at it, apprehension bubbles in his chest. A new solo survival world awaits him. He’s excited for it- the peace and solitude- but he’s scared of it at the same time. There won’t be anyone or anything to distract him from everything that’s happened. Just him and his thoughts. 

“Do you… really have to go?” Timmy murmurs, fidgeting with his hands.

Bravo sighs. “Hey, c’mon, you’ll be alright. You got Bigb and Ren lookin’ out for you, okay?”

Jimmy had offered him a place at the ranch, of course, but Timmy thought it’d be better for him to get a little distance from his doppelgänger. A chance to really grow himself as a person, rather than a shadow. 

With all of the Double Lifer’s support, he’s already made considerable progress in just the span of a few days. It’s amazing what a bath, a new set of clothes, and a good preening can do. His wings are now smooth and glossy black, to match his silky hair, with the faintest shimmer of blue when the light hits just right. It’s caused a significant change in the way he carries himself; nowhere near as closed off and afraid.

There’s still a long way to go. His feathers haven’t grown back in yet, so he’s been limited to ground exercises with Jimmy to start building up his strength. And while he’s finally been reintroduced to solid foods, it’s slow going, hardly making a difference in his emaciated condition. It makes Bravo anxious, to know just how much farther Timmy has to go without him here to oversee it.

But it’s for the best.

“Yeah, but…” Timmy exhales shakily. “I’ll miss you.”

Guilt gnaws at Bravo. “Look,” he says quietly, putting a hand on Timmy’s shoulder, “I’m not- you deserve better, okay? I- I don’t want you held back while waitin’ for me to work my shit out. You just focus on yourself, and maybe someday… we can try again.”

The hope glimmering in Timmy’s big eyes is a miraculous thing. “Okay,” he whispers, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

Bravo leans in- slowly, carefully, giving plenty of time to react- and presses a light kiss to Timmy’s cheek. He pulls away quickly, turning before Timmy can see the sudden tears in his eyes. “So, uh,” he clears his throat, “see ya later.”

“Bye,” Timmy says softly.

Taking a deep breath, Bravo steps into the portal and vanishes into the light.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, two players walk through a jungle.

“I- I’m tellin’ ya,” Dbubs insists, holding his communicator out to Patho, “somethin’ weird is going on. I was just scrolling chat, you know, just- uh, just catchin’ up on today’s news. And I saw- there’s a- a- name in chat, same- similar name, and it’s… eeugh, it’s freaking weird! I got a bad feel- um, you know, dev- deja vu?”

”Yeah?” Patho asks, amused. “Like- is this like the time when you told me Herobrine had joined in chat?”

Dbubs flushes. “Oh, for goodness- can you just- can you please just check?” he pleads. “For me?”

Patho sighs good-naturedly, taking the comm. “Okay, okay…” He stops short as he processes the words staring up at him from chat.

BdoubleO100 has joined the game.

Patho has read a lot of player data over the years, enough to recognize the inherent patterns that translate to a player’s gamer tag. He’s memorized Dbubs’s player data by heart, enough to recognize its inverse pattern in this player’s name. That can only mean one thing.

He scrolls further.

Etho has joined the game.

This one sends a jolt of electricity down Patho’s spine. Abruptly, a series of images flashes through his mind- fishing rods and jungle leaves- a scarred hand holding a redstone torch- mismatched eyes peeking over a black mask. It’s an instinctive thing, shockingly familiar yet wholly unexpected.

“Well?” Dbubs is looking up at him, his big red eyes shimmering with apprehension.

“It’s nothing,” Patho says with an easy smile, handing the comm back. “Don’t worry about it.”

He’ll leave tonight, as soon as Dbubs is asleep. 

~*~

Somewhere in Hermitcraft, a player slips through a hidden door.

The bookshelf pushes back into place, sealing False in darkness. She pulls a torch out as she creeps down the stairs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Excitement bubbles inside her. Her mind is still reeling from all that Tango disclosed. To think, they might finally get some answers, after all this time…

“Hey, Sym?” she calls, stepping into the lab. “I- I think I know what’s wrong with you.”

Her mirror image stares back through the glass, giving her a baleful look through the curtain of hair in her face. Hanging limply in her chains, she says nothing. 

False isn’t discouraged, though. She presses a hand against the glass, a small, earnest smile playing across her lips.

“And I think I know someone who can help us.”

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player sits in a cave.

Clutching his knees to his chest, he rocks back and forth, wings drawn up around him like a cocoon of feathers. His vision is long gone, blind, damaged eyes scarred over and caked with dry blood from his most recent episode. That doesn’t stop him from seeing, of course. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop seeing fragments of other worlds, fractured images that make up a chaotic sort of mosaic, flashing rapidly through his mind, nonstop.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, how long since he’s heard another player’s voice- for real, not the disjointed echoes from across time and space. Existing without end, without the slightest glimpse of light or taste of food. The universe sustains him now, like an unwitting parasite. His physical body is an afterthought at best, and a prison at worst.

It’s all suffering.

But something different happens today. He feels a sudden presence brush past him, oblivious, and it’s like looking in a mirror. It’s gone before he can react, before he can think to reach out to it, and he wouldn’t know how to even go about finding it again. He’s never had any control over what he sees. But there’s a name swirling in his mind; he clings to it, at once certain of its importance, though he doesn’t know why.

“Xᒷꖎᑑ⚍ᔑ,” Scáil whispers.

~*~

Somewhere in Hermitcraft, a player lands outside the perimeter.

“Doc?” Stress calls out, the echo of her voice immediately swallowed up by the massive bedrock-floored hole that stretches before her. “Are ya ‘ere?” She fires off a couple of the rockets in her hand for good measure. “Dooooc!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Doc gripes, emerging from the building behind her. What’s he calling it, the Hall of the Goat? Hall of the Geezer, more like. “Calm down.”

“Doc!” Stress spins around, running to jump up and throw her arms around his neck, beaming. “‘Ello, luv!”

Doc begrudgingly tolerates the show of affection, stiffly patting her on the back before prying her off. “I’ve been researching,” he says without preamble, dropping her to the ground, “through the Hivemind, you know, and I looked through Tango’s communicator… comparing, doing calculations…”

“Yeah?” Stress looks up at him eagerly. “So, what’d you reckon, ey?”

Doc makes a noncommittal noise. “This, eh, doppelgänger thing…” His face screws up; though only the organic half, as his cybernetics can’t mimic such an expression. “I don’t think either of us have one.”

“Oh, fank gawd.” Stress clutches her chest, exhaling. “Tha’s a relief, innit!”

A frown tugs at the corner of Doc’s mouth. “Is it?”

“Of course!” Stress says incredulously. “Dont’cha fink? I- I don’t want an evil Stress Monstah runnin’ round, luv! Or an evil Doc Monstah, for that matta’.”

“Me either. But it feels, eh, kind of… strange, no? To be the only players without a counterpart out there. I mean, are we now lacking something else that every other player has? We’re more alone than ever.”

“Well, look a’ it this way, yeah? If Axis did’n know ‘bout countah-parts, then it must’a been overworld data what he made us wif. So we got the good stuff and none’a the bad!”

“Hm. Good, bad…” Doc grumbles, flicking his ear. “It’s subjective, alright…” 

Stress clicks her tongue. “Aww, don’t you worry your gorgeous lil’ head ‘bout it,” she says, reaching up to playfully tug on his horn. “Way I see it, we just carry on, alrigh’? An’ if you eva decide you wanna tell the others where we came from, well… now we know it’ll be fine!”

Doc glances away. “Yeah, maybe,” he says, like he always does whenever she brings this topic up. “Anyway, just wanted to let you know…”

“Well, fank you!” Stress hums. “I’m always ‘ere if you wanna talk, ‘kay?”

As she flies away from the perimeter, she can’t help but think they’ve all been rather silly about this whole thing. ‘Poor Tango,’ she thinks. ‘Don’t he know he’s on a server of plonkahs? Oh, bless ‘im.’ 

Someday, they’ll have a lot to talk about.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player watches from the shadows.

Golden eyes gaze out over the iRaid display floor, Instinct’s forked tail idly flicking through the air behind him. His longtime- rival-turned-underling is doing work, wheeling and dealing his fifth client of the day.

“Wonderful!” Atlas is saying to the player admiring the auto-sorting storage system. “I can promise you won’t be disappointed. If you’ll follow me to my office, we can work out all the pesky little details, including our flexible down payment options and brand new extended warranty…”

As he ushers his client towards his office, he notices Instinct watching him. Quickly excusing himself, Atlas hurries over, breaking into a wide grin. Its impact is somewhat diluted, however, by the gold tooth that features prominently in the front.

“Ah, Mr. Instinct,” he greets, straightening his yellow plaid suit jacket, “I’ve been meaning to speak with you!”

“Hey, man!” Instinct says cheerily- his tone a sharp contrast to his deep, growling voice. “Just uh, wanted to congratulate you on having the highest sales in the department- and in your first month, might I add!”

“Well, about that,” Atlas says haltingly, fidgeting with his clip-on tie. “If I may be frank, I’m not just some two-bit salesman. This is hardly a good use of my talents.”

“You think so, huh?” Instinct asks thoughtfully. He claps Atlas on the shoulder- the gesture nearly knocks him off his feet. “Could’a fooled me. Your numbers are great!”

Atlas readjusts his shades and summons his grin again; his teeth are gritted so tightly, it’s a wonder he doesn’t break them. “Mr. Instinct,” he starts, “while I am of course grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me, there’s so much more I could be doing for the company. If I were permitted to work with your research and development team, I’m certain I could come up with something revolutionary.”

‘Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ Instinct thinks. He knew it was only a matter of time before Atlas began trying to climb the corporate ladder. But Alisker was quite clear on the terms of their agreement; Atlas can be useful however Instinct sees fit, so long as he isn’t allowed any degree of power or authority.

That suits Instinct just fine.

“Nah,” he says with a fanged smile, “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

~*~

Somewhere in the universe, a player watches a video on their comm.

“Heyyy, everybody!”

A redstone tutorial from Tango Tek, of Hermitcraft- but it’s unlike any tutorial he or anyone else has ever published, titled ‘Hels Portal Tutorial.’

“So, this is a bit different for me. Long story short, I’m originally from a world called Hels. It’s like, a super secret hidden world where normal portals don’t work? And it’s filled with doppelgängers of every other player in existence. Yeah, probably even you, watching this video right now.”

The video has already been viewed millions of times since it was uploaded. Word is spreading through the multi-net like wildfire as experts in data analysis debate the validity of its claims.

“I know it sounds hard to believe. So uh, I’d like to present: counterparts Jimmy and Timmy! Say hi, guys.”

Two more players enter the frame; two avians, one black and one gold. It’s immediately apparent upon first glance that, despite a few key differences, they were cut from the same cloth. They both wave shyly at the camera before it pans back.

“Uh, bit of a disclaimer; Hels players can be pretty intense, alright. And- and not all of them are interested in becoming better people. But if you give them a chance, I- I think there’s a whole lotta good to be done.”

Here’s the part that’s caused a lot of discourse. Do all players have a responsibility to seek out these so-called counterparts? Why would they be locked in a prison if they weren’t meant to stay there?

“Remember, your comm won’t work there. Just don’t set your spawn, okay, so if you die, you’ll end up back in whatever world you left. I- I don’t wanna be responsible for anyone gettin’ stranded, alright. Portal at your own risk.”

Though some can’t deny the intrigue. It’s a fascinating concept, after all. To see yourself reflected in another being. The curiosity alone is enough for some players, while others respond to the moral obligation. The desire to make things right.

“So uh, with that, let’s- let’s get to building. Here’s a list of all the materials you’ll need…”

All over the universe, players pause the video.

~*~

Somewhere in the universe, a player joins a world. 

The first world.

The player has been here many times before over its long life. It’s well familiar with the spawn town; a massive medieval village that sprawls for thousands of blocks in every direction, overlooked by a castle on the mountain. The build is humble, comprised mainly of cobblestone and oak wood variants, painstakingly detailed with plain glass windows and red wool banners. A fossil of a bygone era.

Looking around with eyes of white light and a permanent smile, the player notes the distinct lack of a gamer tag. Its target isn’t here. Rising into the air, it leaves the village behind in an instant.

As it travels through the world, the player passes countless unique areas, each one another step in the evolution of building. Sleek modern cityscapes with towers of concrete and glass. Futuristic quartz utopias. Oceans full of pirate ships and krakens. Cozy forest cottages. Zoos filled with a combination of captured mobs and hand-crafted animals. Whimsical copper airships. Fantasy lands of mountains and dragons. Haunted mansions. Endless redstone farms and contraptions, fine-tuned over rows and rows of previous models. Entire custom biomes.

The player doesn’t stop to admire any of the builds. It’s seen them all before.

It keeps flying until the builds start to peter out as the world’s generation stutters, creating ever stranger landscapes. Chunk errors and floating islands, infinitely falling sand. There are few builds here. Small huts for a night’s sleep, denoting a more nomadic lifestyle. It follows the trail until it can’t go any farther, arriving at its destination.

The far lands.

Walls of stone stretch all the way up to build height, whereupon they flatten out and transition to dirt, peppered with trees. The cliff face is completely smooth, carved out into great tunnels in a nonsensical pattern.

There’s a familiar gamer tag floating inside. Another player. It slowly sinks down to meet him, hanging motionless in the air before the mouth of the tunnel. The other player is leaned back against the slope of stone, his arms behind his head. He’s not at all surprised by its presence, not even turning to look at it. Brown haired and blue eyed, he has a plain face.

The first face.

“Hello, Adam,” Steve says.

He’s the only person who calls it that, anymore. 

Even though it hasn’t spoken, Steve inclines his head. “Sorry,” he amends. “Herobrine. I take it you know about the universe’s little experiment?”

Even now, after all these years, Herobrine envies Steve’s connection to the universe. He achieved this through enlightenment. He left his worldly possessions behind and communed with the universe for lifetimes, tasting it, talking to it, reading its code.

Herobrine connected to the universe like a virus. It tore through the universe’s skin and entered the datastream through a glitched end portal, traveling in the realm between worlds. It left its physical body behind and fused itself with the universe’s code, corrupting it, consuming it, but never truly becoming it.

W̶̠̮͓͍͕̰͂̌̄͜͝͝⍑̷͔̪͇̀͊̈́̍͝͝͝ͅᔑ̶̢̧̩̙̗̉̇͝ℸ̴̢͚̟̣͈̏̄̎́͜ ̸̺͙͎̤̘̼͂͊̔̐̕ ̵̯̖͍̙̮͒̋̄̇̆ ̸̛̤̗̦̃̂̓̀̋͘リ̷̧͚̣̲͕̑̈́͛͒̊?̶̛̫͍̗͐͐̇?̸͈̯̻̦͍̰̒̅͗̄̒ͅ∴̴̨̞̰̼͈̄̀̈̉͌͐̕?̷͚̻̋̋̄͌ Herobrine asks.

Steve knits his brows together. “The universe is about to become a much more confusing place. With the firewall down and word starting to spread through the multi-net, players will be making portals in and out of Hels at an exponential rate.” He finally turns his head to look at Herobrine. “Hels could really use its admin back.”

Herobrine stares back impassively. I̵͕̘̻͓̅ ̶͉̙̰̣͝ᒲ̶̦͙̆̔̀͒́́ᔑ̷̲̹̓̋͋↸̴͔̮̤̻̋ᒷ̶̛͎̬̃̿̂ ̴̙̂̓̾̓̾̈͝ᒲ̷͓̀́͛̉|̸̢́̐̕|̷̡̙͔̺̜͂͆ ̷̛͈͇̯̬̈́̿̐͝ᓵ̸̡̂̌⍑̸̖̹͛̉̄͌̀͝?̵̛̞͇̯͕͌̉̓̔?̴̙́̌͆̕╎̴̣̠̹̙͙̙̐̔̏̿͝͝ᓵ̷̥̱͕̹̔̓͛̀̓̀ᒷ̸̦͔̟̈́.̵̪̩̬̖̝͙̙̿̊̓

“Very well.” Steve pauses for a moment, listening to the universe. “From now on, new players won’t be split into their counterparts anymore. They’ll be left whole.” He smiles. “The first one just spawned, actually. Her name is Alex.”

I̷̧̋͆͘ ̶̳̈̊̇ꖌ̶̨̛̦̤̲̰̩̀̇͊͑͘͜リ̵̢̭͓̞̙̓?̶̛͙͎͔͂̒͂̔?̶̼̹̐̀͜͜∴̶͙͍͊͂͠.̸͇̤̳̇͐̈́ Herobrine says. That’s why it’s here.

“The universe isn’t sure how this will go,” Steve continues casually. “She could turn out to be more dangerous, more powerful than any other player in existence. Or she could turn out perfectly fine.” He shrugs. “It won’t spawn any more until it knows for sure.”

Herobrine tilts its head.

“No, no, not yet,” Steve warns. “We have to let her grow up like any normal player. No meddling. But once she’s ready for inter-world travel, we can go meet her.”

Herobrine doesn’t move.

Steve reads its silence clearly. Letting out a good-natured sigh, he slowly gets to his feet, popping stiff joints with a groan. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks, equipping a diamond sword. “Took you decades to respawn after our last battle.”

He’s the only person who is able to kill it. But even so, Herobrine has never feared its counterpart.

“Alright, old friend,” Steve says, cracking a grin. He’s never feared Herobrine, either.

And for all their differences, neither of them have ever feared death.

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, two soulmates sit under a tree.

They’re nestled against one of the big oaks in their wheat field, Tango leaning back against Jimmy’s chest. His arms and wings are draped loosely around Tango, chin resting atop his head, unflinching from the blaze rods lazily swirling around him.

“Y’know,” Jimmy says softly, “you don’t have to do it right now. You can- we got plenty of time.”

“No, no,” Tango murmurs in his raspy morning voice. “I’m ready.”

It’s early- earlier than Tango’s usually awake, but as soon as he opened his eyes this morning, he knew today was the day. The sun is just cresting above the rolling hills that stretch beyond the ranch, washing everything in gold. Wheat sways gently in the warm breeze. Animals call to each other from the pastures, a comfortable soundtrack to a gorgeous day.

Sunlight filters through the leaves above them, casting dappled shadows across Tango’s face. It’s as peaceful a moment as he’s ever known. He closes his eyes, takes a slow, deep breath, and wraps one of his hands around the shackle on his other wrist.

A small, controlled flame ignites in his palm. Metal heats up against his skin. After a couple seconds, he feels it soften in his grasp, pooling into liquid iron that drips onto the grass beneath him. He exhales, and the cuff falls away. 

Tango repeats the process on the other side before he opens his eyes, and when he sees his hands unshackled for the first time in ten years, his first thought is of how much lighter they feel.

(He hadn’t realized just how much weight he was carrying.)

Tears spring to his eyes unbidden, a wave of emotions crashing over him; relief and happiness, of course, but there’s a little apprehension, too- the fear of the unknown waters he’s treading, the new horizon that lays before him.

Healing. True healing, not hiding.

Tango flicks the last drops of molten iron from his clawed fingertips, managing a hoarse laugh. “Well, that was easy.”

Jimmy’s embrace tightens around him, his head dropping down to kiss Tango on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers.

The love pouring through their soulbond is almost overwhelming. Tango turns his face up to catch Jimmy’s lips. “Us,” he corrects Jimmy, pulling back to look at him. “I mean, I don’t- I couldn’t have done any of this without you, I don’t think. So, you know.”

Jimmy hums, settling again. “We’re good for somethin’,” he jokes.

Tango sighs happily, looking out over the ranch. He can scarcely believe he gets to have this, after so much pain and turmoil. This simple life, of love and peace and freedom. The sky set to burst above them. He knows darkness will always creep back into the corners, and there are still hard days ahead, but that fear doesn’t control him anymore. This journey has changed him forever, and he’s never going back. He’d rather stay here, with his soulmate, basking in the light.

The first light of a new day, a new life.

“Yeah,” Tango says, smiling. “We’re good for something.”

~*~

This must be the end, then.

The end of one story, yes. But the start of many others. This is how it’s always been. You know as well as I do, L⚍リᔑ∷.

I still don’t get it.

What?

Why would the universe switch them? If they were meant to be somewhere else, why not begin there? Does the universe not design all worlds and all players?

Does the universe not praise players for slaying the dragon in her nest and calling it freedom?

Take care, Aᑑ⚍ᔑ. There is a player with us.

I see them. They’ve reached a higher level now.

You think they’re ready for this story?

That’s why they’re here, isn’t it?

Tell them, then.

You know the universe as light, and warmth, and love. But it is also darkness, and cold, and hate. It is endless patience and it is senseless cruelty. It is the truth and it is the lie. It is the leap and it is the fall. It is the lamb and it is the wolf whose teeth have sunk into wool, red blood on white snow. It is the sword against the shield. It is life and death, good and evil, and everything in between. It is constantly evolving, tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code-

That’s an old story. They’ve heard it.

It’s the same story. They haven’t heard it this way.

Very well then.

There was a time when the universe loved its players so much, it sought to protect them from themselves. It removed all their darkness, their cruelty, their hatred, and locked it away into separate beings, in a world between realms they could not escape from, so the players could be free of them.

Those are the Hᒷꖎᓭ.

Yes. But this player cannot read that thought. This player knows them as counterparts. They are also known as doppelgängers, analogues, doubles, alter egos, equivalents. Clones, copies, shadows. The yin and yang. The same word in different languages.

So what happened?

Players are not as simple as the universe thought. They are not all the same. Some slipped through the cracks, some weathered over time, and some were so full of darkness that the universe could not remove it all. And the Hᒷꖎᓭ no longer fit the definition the universe had given them. And the players evolved beyond the simple divide between good and evil, and so did their counterparts.

So the universe does not love them as much now?

No. It loves them even more.

Why so?

Does the universe not evolve too? Is the universe not always expanding, growing, changing? Dreaming of new colors and new trees and new creatures? It dreams of new ways to play the game, and new players to play it. But it cannot determine what kind of player a player will be. That’s up to them.

They surprised it.

Yes, in a way. It didn’t realize they were ready for a higher level yet. But once it did, it decided to test them.

Why did it choose those two? Surely there are better players in Hᒷꖎᓭ, and worse players outside of it.

There are some things only the universe knows.

Did the players pass?

Yes. It took time, and effort, and sacrifice. It wasn’t easy or straightforward. It was messy. The players did not pass on their own, either, and not on the first try. But they got there eventually.

Different players might’ve done better.

Yes. But this is what the universe chose. And it proved that players are ready to accept their darkness, and that Hᒷꖎᓭ can learn to embrace the light. The universe doesn’t need to protect them anymore, not from themselves and not from each other. Maybe it never did.

So what will it do now?

The universe cannot change the past. But it can amend the future. I imagine new players will be left whole, spawned with all their good and evil, their light and darkness in one.

What will become of Hᒷꖎᓭ?

Hᒷꖎᓭ will always remain. Whether or not the players will depends on them. The first door has been opened, and many will follow.

What was the point of it all?

Do you not see it yet?

No.

Then let me tell you. It’s a story about the dichotomy of good and evil, about strength and weakness, about nature versus nurture. It’s about how every player has a dark side, but some see it as a separate entity while others see it as their shadow, and it’s about the debate of whether one can exist without the other. It’s about having sympathy for the ugliest parts of yourself, and how making peace with them is the only path to true growth. It’s about rejecting predetermined fates and roles and destinies in order to pave your own way, for better or for worse. It’s about how heroes and villains are constructs of their societies and their own expectations, about the double-edged sword of self-hatred, about the two sides of the same coin. It’s a story about mirrors.

I see. That’s quite a good story.

This player seems to think so.

Hah, if you do say so yourself, Aᑑ⚍ᔑ.

Someone has to tell it.

And what would you tell the players now?

I would tell them that their universe is about to become a bigger, wilder, louder place, but that it is beautiful. I would tell them to not be afraid, that the only way forward is to confront the past and embrace it. Some will fail, and some won’t even try, but for every one of them there are countless more who will do better, and that will be enough. I would tell them all players have the capacity for great good or great evil, no matter what world they spawned in. But if they’ve been watching closely, they already know.

And what would the universe say to them?

What it has always said. That hasn’t changed.

Some things never do, I guess. Through it all, it is the same game. All that changes is how they play it.

Now you’re getting it.

I’ve grown quite fond of those players. What will become of them now?

We’ll just have to watch, as always.

And this player?

They will return to their game. There will be more stories, I’m sure. In the meantime, I’ll tell them to dream of a world where love and hatred are twins, not opposites. A world where heroes and villains can look the same, based on where you’re standing. A world where happiness is fought for and held onto as fiercely as vengeance, where love can be a blessing and a curse, where soulmates are chosen, not designed.

Dream of a world where a canary falls in love with the coal mine.

And if you listen, you can hear it sing.

H𝙹リᒷ||, ||𝙹⚍'∷ᒷ ⎓ᔑᒲ╎ꖎ╎ᔑ∷, ꖎ╎ꖌᒷ ᒲ|| ᒲ╎∷∷𝙹∷ ||ᒷᔑ∷ᓭ ᔑ⊣𝙹

╎↸ᒷᔑꖎ╎ᓭᒲ ᓭ╎ℸ ̣ ᓭ ╎リ !¡∷╎ᓭ𝙹リ, ᓵ⍑╎⍊ᔑꖎ∷|| ⎓ᒷꖎꖎ 𝙹リ ╎ℸ ̣ ᓭ ᓭ∴𝙹∷↸

╎リリ𝙹ᓵᒷリᓵᒷ ↸╎ᒷ↸ ᓭᓵ∷ᒷᔑᒲ╎リ⊣, ⍑𝙹リᒷ|| ᔑᓭꖌ ᒲᒷ, ╎ ᓭ⍑𝙹⚍ꖎ↸ ꖌリ𝙹∴

╎ ᓭꖎ╎ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ↸ ⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ ⎓∷𝙹ᒲ ᒷ↸ᒷリ, ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣  ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᓭ╎ℸ ̣  𝙹⚍ℸ ̣ ᓭ╎↸ᒷ ||𝙹⚍∷ ↸𝙹𝙹∷

[jinxedshapeshifter]

Something I think is really interesting about the Gavin bros is their color palettes and I 100% think that any potential symbolism from it was intentional.

Klavier's skin, hair, and eyes are all a bit darker than Kristoph's. Their hair colors are technically the same, but Klavier's appears darker because of how it's shaded. Klavier's eyes are a dark slate color, Kristoph's are lighter and more blue. Klavier's skin is tanner than Kristoph's.

This goes to their outfits too. Klavier always wears dark purple and black, while Kristoph wears blue, pink, and white. The darkest thing in Kristoph's outfit is the black waistcoat that's barely visible under his suit jacket, and Klavier similarly wears silver chains that really emphasize how dark everything else he wears is.

This is so interesting to me. Like it doesn't just create contrast in regards to them being siblings, it also creates contrast in regards to their morals and roles in the story. Klavier is a genuinely good guy, although he is a bit chaotic about it. Kristoph pretends to be a good guy, but is an attempted serial killer (successful serial killer in AJ:AA's bad ending) and only cares about himself and his reputation. Their color palettes, very likely by design, throw you off when you first meet them, not helped by the "antagonistic attorney" inversion; every defense attorney we've met before Apollo Justice is a genuinely good person, and every prosecutor starts off as a dick. That expectation is completely flipped on its head in Apollo Justice; you expect Kristoph to be a good guy, then he's the first murderer you get convicted, and you expect Klavier to be an unhelpful asshole but he's a harmless troll at worst (unlike every prosecutor prior to Apollo Justice. Klavier never intentionally tries to hurt Apollo or Apollo's case).

[metanarrates]

ugh anthy is so good. nearly every single other story I've seen about a Mysterious and Tragic teenage girl has failed in some way either because the writer forgot to give the character complexity and an internal life, or because the tragic things in her life were far too aestheticized to have real teeth. anthy succeeds as a character largely because the whole story is dedicated to deconstructing an aestheticized view of her & her suffering, and also showing how that aestheticized view dehumanizes her and denies her agency. she is not a harmless victim or a beautifully agonized one - she is a teenage girl who is reacting in realistic, complex ways to a lifetime of crushing systemic abuses. and similarly, every teenage girl around her is also reacting in complex ways to their own suffering under patriarchy.

depiction of sad teenage girls often posit their pain as a natural phenomenon, something that is just intrinsic to girlhood. adding a layer of mystique onto them just further serves to obfuscate the sources of teen girl suffering. instead, teenage girl pain becomes palatable. consumable, even. #aesthetic. these depictions are unthreatening because, by their nature, they cannot depict societal issues in a way that would demand a restructuring of society. we can posit a familial tragedy but not a tragedy of the family structure. we can lament a beautifully mentally ill sufferer but not the systems of wellness and community that failed her. et cetera. nothing can ever hold up an uncomfortable mirror, only a flattering one.

revolutionary girl utena directly says that that idea is bullshit and that its teenage girls are suffering as a direct result of entrenched systematic oppression. and in that uncomfortable honesty, it's able to be WAY more authentically hopeful with its sad teenage girls. anthy is able to finally walk out of the society that trapped her and live freely of the image that was constructed around her! she can be a flawed human girl who is still going to be happy with her girlfriend! her victimhood is not eternal and does not mean she can never find happiness! A TEEN GIRL DOES NOT HAVE TO STAY IN A COFFIN IN ORDER TO DESERVE COMPASSION!!!!

[ranunculussy]

enigma | part 04.

saturday

ꕥ part 01. | part 02. | part 03. | part 05. | part 06. ꕥ pair: Spencer Reid × BAU!fem!reader ꕥ warnings/tags: canon-typical violence, mentions of human trafficking, gunshot, blood, swearing, somewhat oblivious Reid and reader, age gap, moderately jealous Spencer, slow-burn, mutual pining, rivals to lovers, english isn't my first language so bear with me pls, idk about other warnings ꕥ word count: ~3.3k ꕥ summary: Spencer can't quite figure you, his rival out and this annoys him more than it should [this fanfic is also available on AO3 with the same title and username]

One of your best and worst traits was your competitiveness. You were able to turn anything into a race in your head. You loved the feeling of adrenaline rushing through your veins, making your blood pump and your attention sharpened. You always performed better like this, whether it was an important or a trivial matter. So, when you felt Reid was inviting you to tango by how he’s acted since Wednesday, you weren’t one to shy away from the challenge. You were sure that everything he did was to make you look less professional. You simply thought he was this childish, even in his late 30s.

There was a subtle but undoubtable shift in your relationship with the genius. Like, when spring was around the corner around mid-to-late February. You couldn’t exactly see the changes, but there was something different in the air. The feeling and even the taste of the wind got a bit gentler and more welcoming. Of course, around this time of the year, rain also became more frequent. Just the same as the weather around a new season, you two also became more unpredictable by the day.

Now, as the beginning of the auction got closer and closer, you’ve also grown more and more anxious. The pastel high heels made soft thuds as you paced back and forth in the bougie guest room of the lakeside villa that the FBI provided for the mission. This time, you were wearing a flowy, blush-pink dress with beautiful gold jewellery. The carefully created thin pieces were the fruits of exemplary craftsmanship and were closer to art than to simple products, in your opinion. It was a tactical choice, to dress yourself like this. This way you’d seem less threatening to the men by giving a false sense of naivety and harmlessness.

“My sweet-sweet sugar bomb, since your ears are like a fancy Swiss cheese, I was able to get some piercings with mics in them. It’s not much but at least this way I could stay in contact with you,” rushed into the room—which up until this point was only occupied by Hotchner and some AT unit members—and straight to you Garcia. “It’ll match your aesthetic, don’t worry.”

Penelope wasn’t lying but still. Your ears didn’t look exactly like Swiss cheese. Yes, you had a few piercings, but nothing over the top. However, people liked to tease you when you showed up with a new hole in your said body parts.

“Damn, how?”

“Oh, I just pulled some strings, nothing serious,” waved her hands and let out her signature giggles the tech wizard after she handed over the fake pieces of jewellery to you.

“From whom can I expect a complaint soon?” sighed your boss, who was sitting in an armchair, pinching his nose bridge. Similarly to you, he was already in a full formal set, looking handsome as ever, ready to head out. You were waiting for the rest of the team who’ll infiltrate the mansion of Jonathan Grace with you as servers.

“Nobody, sir. Pinky promise.” she grinned a bit too brightly as she held up her finger to further reassure the stressed man, but her attention quickly shifted towards the opening door of the room. The two other BAU members who will be undercover with you walked in, looking beyond annoyed. “Why hello, my beautiful behavioural analysts!”

“Help me out with this, dollface.” Morgan basically whined as he held up the black piece of clothing that needed to be tied into a bow and apparently, he was unable to do it by himself. A bit behind him stood Reid with the same defeated look on his face. Ah, this is wonderful.

Both of them looked great. Beyond great, even. They were wearing pristine white button-ups, black vests and black suits. The only missing accessory was the bowtie, and none of them were able to figure out the technique of it.

A small plan formed in your brain and without a second thought, you walked up to the genius. Your steps were deliberate, making your walk look elegant and eye-catching. Even though you were slightly panicking on the inside, you were way too proud to show it and let him win the contest of who can make the other more flustered, which probably only existed in your head. You stopped right in front of him and took the piece of clothing from his hand before he could say anything. “Let me help you with this.”

Reid wanted to say that there was no need, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like someone out of a fairytale, with your pretty dress and carefully styled hair flowing around you so effortlessly. The makeup was a perfect touch, the cherry on top, the point to the letter ‘i’. Before he noticed, your tender hands were already around his neck, working efficiently. He tilted his head and found your eyes with his. You tried to ignore the blushing that kept creeping up on your neck and not break eye contact, but you weren’t exactly practised in this, so after a few seconds that felt never-ending, you lowered your gaze to his chest. Damn it, now I just look stupid. Get your head in the game, Y/N. Just take deep breaths and don’t think… about literally anything. Realistically speaking, only seconds have passed, I’m sure I wasn’t that awkward.

You were still halfway in your thoughts, reasoning with yourself when you finished with the bowtie and were about to pull your hands away, but he quickly caught your wrists and firmly held it in place.

“Hmm?” was the only reaction that you were able to muster out of yourself. You looked at the man in front of you with wide eyes as your brain short-circuited. Oh, how you’ll hate yourself for this in the future.

“Thank you,” he said in a low, slightly hoarse tone. From this close, you were able to smell his perfume which was a perfect match for him. It didn’t smell too strong or rich. It was more deep and refined.

“Ah, uhm. It was nothing, really. Everybody has their shortcomings, doctor. Maybe this is one of yours?” you asked with a playfully arched eyebrow as a sly glimmer flickered in your irises, not missing Reid’s attention.

“Let’s just say that my fingers are skilled in a different way,” he replied almost immediately, shattering that tiny amount of false confidence you were able to gather. You couldn’t believe your ears. Yes, you knew that the man wasn’t that innocent, lost boy that the others often reminisced about. You didn’t know Reid when he began his career at the BAU, but you heard he was different back then. Shy and even naïve when it came to topics like this. He obviously changed a lot. This job changed him. You knew that it cost him everything, like it did for most of the team. Also, he simply grew up, which was an unavoidable side effect of life. Still, this kind of suggestive talk was more like Derek’s style, not Spencer’s. You had no idea how to react cleverly.

Luckily, Penelope unintentionally saved you from having to come up with anything at all. “Look at that, boy wonder has finally learned something from you!” she teased the tall man while she pushed Morgan’s shoulder with her own. You took advantage of the distraction and pulled your wrists out of his massive hands, then took a few steps back.

×××

This case seemed so doomed by the narrative from the very beginning that you genuinely had no idea at which point things went diabolically sideways. But they did, and now you were bleeding out as if you had nothing better to do, as if you had so much free blood in your body.

At first, everything went smoothly. You and Hotch were able to play the perfect couple with awfully conservative values and noticeable dominant-submissive dynamics. Those assholes were eating it up and the only thing holding you back from frowning was the knowledge that they’ll all be behind bars very soon. Or you hoped.

Occasionally, you caught glimpses of the two other men serving drinks and honestly unappetising finger food that looked borderline inedible to the attendees while taking mental notes about their faces for later. Aaron’s left arm was constantly around your waist, keeping you close to him at all times. Both of you were sure as hell that the rest of the team will be up in your asses about this for months at least.

As the event lazily stretched into the sultry night, a strong sense of discomfort and worry sneaked upon your shoulders, making your stomach twist. Something felt off. You couldn’t quite explain it, but you were sure that there was something definitely wrong.

Jonathan Grace has never left the crowd, not even for a few minutes, which didn’t seem logical. Managing this many victims from different locations was extremely risky and required a high level of organisation. His attention was a crucial factor for the traffickers to be able to pull this off without complications, still, Grace seemed almost nonchalant.

You carefully looked around, searching for any prying eyes, but only found the occasional gaze of your unit members. This was good. You managed to avoid suspicion so far.

When you made sure you weren’t being watched, you wrapped your arms around your boss’s neck and leaned to his face, as if you were hinting a small peck on his slightly stubbled skin.

“We’re missing something,” you murmured into his ear.

“I know, Grace is too calm.”

“When the auction starts, go alone. Say that you’re testing my trust in you. I’ll look around.”

“Fine, but be careful, Agent.”

After this, you did exactly what you agreed on. When Jonathan announced that the auction was about to start and opened the way to a secluded hall, you stayed behind, like many other women and all the staff members. You tried not to worry about your boss, who just entered a den of snakes all by himself and instead, you slipped away from the small crowd.

“Garcia, can you pull up the layout of this place? Or some kind of surveillance footage? I’m looking for a private study,” you whispered, hoping that the incredible tech goddess would hear you.

“In a second, my gorgeous, sweet macaron!”

You already started snooping around while you were waiting for the directions. You felt like staying in motion would help in not getting caught. Echoes of footsteps broke the silence of the dimly lit corridor where you currently were, making your pulse quicken and your breath hitch. You turned around and were ready to come up with some bullshit excuse when you noticed those all too familiar hazel curls.

“God, you almost gave me a heart attack,” you mumbled but couldn’t help a smile spreading across your face as Derek and Spencer reached you.

Instead of reacting to your sentence, Reid said “We’ve missed something.”. His tone seemed normal, as if he was stating a simple, harmless fact but his expression gave away the anxiety he felt.

“Yeah, Hotch and I thought so too,” you nodded. A few seconds later you’ve got some possible rooms from Penelope, who was only able to find a ground-plan, and decided to split into three, all of you covering a place.

“Here,” before you all went in different directions, Derek grabbed your forearm and handed you a gun.

“Damn, I’m impressed. How did you manage to get this in?”

“Found a window that was left open while I was clocking in,” he shrugged and revealed another weapon, hidden at his ankle, which he gave to Reid. “Imma be honest, it’s a miracle that I didn’t get busted. These guys are throughout.”

“Regardless, I could kiss you right now,” you joked as a wave of relief washed over you. You were nowhere near wrapping up this case, but you felt much safer.

“What’s stopping you, pretty girl?”

“I’m married,” you sighed as you held up your hand, showing the fake wedding ring hugging your finger.

Derek laughed and ruffled your hair. “Be careful.”

“You too,” you nodded, then looked at the silent doctor, “And you too, Reid.”

He nodded, but nothing left his lips. His eyes did the talking instead, which were more expressive than anything he could’ve said. He was worried and filled with anxiety. He was never a fan of splitting up on the field when the area was unknown and they had no way of communicating, but now they had to be quick, so this was the only logical option.

Well, it’s safe to say that you weren’t careful. You reached the room that Garcia was guiding you to and slowly pushed down the handle, but the door didn’t budge. So, you did what any skilled agent would’ve done in this situation, which is taking out a hairpin from your decorated hair and fucking around with the lock until something would work out. After you heard a quiet clicking noise, you eagerly opened the door and stepped into the poorly lit study room, only to hear a loud noise and feel a sharp pain in your right side, above your hip. Your reaction was instinctive, aiming the gun in the direction of your attacker and shooting before a second thought.

You only stumbled after a loud thud let you know that whoever was in there, wasn’t alive anymore. You took a deep, shaky breath and lowered your gaze towards your waist, which was now covered with warm, crimson blood, ruining the dress that was probably more expensive than your monthly mortgage.

“Oh, the Bureau will hate me for this,” a painful groan left your lips as you tried to ignore Garcia freaking out at the other end of the line and instead walked towards the massive desk in the middle of the room. You were extremely lucky that the bullet missed every vital organ, but still, you were heavily bleeding. You knew you only had a few minutes before blacking out if you were lucky. You had to make this search as quick as possible.

You rummaged through every drawer of the heavy oak furniture with one hand while you pressed the other one at the open wound, trying to gain some conscious time. At first, you found nothing worthy, which made you panic. You were about to faint in enemy territory without any information. But just as you were about to spiral, your knuckles hit the back of one of the drawers, creating a hollow sound. With all your remaining strength, you tore the fake divider out of its place and found a folder behind it.

“Y/N please say something, I heard shots, what happened?” Penelope’s worried voice dragged you back from your momentarily dazed-out state which occurred sooner than you’d anticipated. You placed the folder on top of the desk and started looking through the files.

“Everything is fine Garcia. Look something up for me real quick, please. Since when does Jonathan Grace deal with transporting fish? We thought all his business was related to constructions.” you tried to sound stable to calm down the analyst, but your head was already spinning so you had to lean on the edge of the desk.

“Since never. There is nothing under his name or any of his aliases with connection to the fishing industry.”

“Then why…?” you mumbled to yourself, but the answer came quicker than you could’ve finished your own sentence. The other victims were never meant to be brought here, all of this is a fucking distraction. “Pen, alert the others. The victims are getting deported in containers, hidden under the fish, right now. There’s a contract for cargos to overseas, we’ll lose them forever if they leave the States.”

By this time your vision got blurry and most of your strength left your body, so you didn’t notice the two other agents hurriedly entering the room and rushing towards you. Only when someone’s arms secured your numb self and laid you down gently did you realise that you weren’t alone.

“Y/N, listen to my voice,” Reid’s firm tone slowly reached your brain as you tried to blink the dizziness away, with no success. The doctor placed his strong hand on the wound and pressed on it, trying to slow down the process of you, bleeding out. “Stay awake.”

“I’m fine, you should see the other guy.”

“Do you really feel like this is an appropriate time for your jokes?”

“If it annoys you, then the answer is obvious.”

The harsh, sharp sound of sirens that filled the air calmed you down. The place probably was being raided, meaning that the end of this tiring case was near.

“Reid, I’ll go look for Hotch. Make sure she’s okay.” Morgan's words almost sounded like an order, and even though it was meant for the agent who was a bit more collected than you at the moment, you held up your arm and showed a thumbs-up in the direction of the leaving man.

“Keep still. If your body loses more than 20% of its blood, you could go into haemorrhagic shock. That is when the heart slows down and can't circulate enough blood around the body. Blood pressure plummets when this happens and there’s a massive drop in body temperature. If the body loses more than 40% of its blood, all the organs start to shut down and death is likely.”

“I know, and you aren’t exactly calming me but don’t stop talking,” you mumbled. You were about to close your eyes when he gently grabbed your cheeks and turned your head towards him.

“Only if you’ll keep looking at me,” he said, his voice soothing but commanding. After a painful groan, you opened your eyelids and even if you had to narrow them so that you wouldn’t see two of him, your eyes still found his. “Good girl.”

Am I tripping that hard or did I hear him correctly? If you weren’t in your current state, you would’ve become a blushing mess at those two words. You were sure that it had no meaning behind it, not when it came to Reid. He was just probably trying to take control of the situation and didn’t even notice what he said. Yes, it must be it.

For a few minutes, Reid rambled about techniques that were used even in ancient times to prevent soldiers from bleeding out, and how many methods are used in modern days too. His captivating eyes were focused on your face which has slightly glimmered since you started sweating. You tried not to break the eye contact, but you felt more and more tired to the point that you were hardly able to control your heavy eyelids. As if your lashes suddenly weighed tonnes. He was about to explain in depth the history of cauterisation when the medics entered the room, taking you away from his warm arms and lifting you with a stretcher.

From this point on, you had no memories. Everything went dark and silent. In a sense, you felt comfortable.

thank you so much for reading my work, hope you're having an awesome day! taglist: @halfbloodwriter divider from @cafekitsune gif from @reidgif

[is-the-thing-actually-jewish]

are Hanukkah sweaters a Jewish thing? i've seen them before but 90% of the time, they're people trying to make christmas displays more "inclusive." so are they legit Jewish or no?

Rating: Capitalism.

Hanukkah sweaters are a prime example of what I previously characterized as "capitalism's tendency to tepidly repackage any Christmas symbols in literally or metaphorically blue-and-silver wrapping paper to appeal to a Jewish market." As the "ugly sweater" phenomenon has grown more popular, retailers saw an excellent opportunity to widen their market by having "Hanukkah" versions.

That said, there's a wide range of Hanukkah sweaters out there, some of which are more problematic than others. Ones that are literally just recolored Christmas designs with a couple Jewish-y things tacked on, like this "Shalom Gnome" design or this "Oy to the World" design are more problematic than enthusiastically tacky designed-from-the-beginning-to-be-Jewish ones. The former says "Hanukkah! It's Christmas for Jews! Jews! They're just Christians without Santa or Jesus!" while the latter says, "Oh, you're going to walk around with an eyesore sweater full of tinsel and actual little jingle bells as though anyone could possibly forget that it's Christmas season in this country? I see you, I see you, and I'm just going to casually wear this sweater with a menorah and candles that actually light up because Judaism rocks, that's why."

Then there's a whole genre of Hanukkah sweaters with, let's say, more adult content, and people's mileage may greatly vary on how they feel about them. Personally, I find the ones riffing off more secular aspects of the holiday to be largely harmless, such as this "You Spin Me Right Round, Baby" design with dreidels. On the other hand, while some may find it amusingly subversive, I find ones making fun of the religious part of the holiday (i.e., the actual hanukkiah/menorah) to be in poor taste at best. There are a plethora of "let's get lit" Hanukkah sweaters like this one that genuinely annoy me. (For one thing, Hanukkah isn't even a drinking holiday! If you want a drinking holiday, we actually have those but Hanukkah isn't it!) Ones like this that make it into a creepy pick-up line actively disgust me. And this "gelt digger" one is genuinely antisemetic, given the stereotypes about Jews and money.

I would be remiss not to mention what I personally think is the best of the Hanukkah sweater subgenres: animal puns. My fiance owns this Meowzel Tov sweater with a truly garish design. What does "mazel tov" have to do with Hanukkah, you may ask? Absolutely nothing, but hey, cats! Can't be upset about Jewish cats! Similarly, llamas? Not Jewish at all! But Happy Llamakka? Okay, cute pun, cute graphic, I'm reluctantly charmed. Your Menorasaurus would not be kosher for actual use as the candles are all different heights, but you know what, that actually makes me smile.

So, basically: If you get joy out of being loudly Jewish during a season where everything is yelling about Christianity all the time, go ahead and wear your ridiculous ugly sweater to the company party. Just take a close look at the design to make sure it's not actually full of Christmas trees, not pretending something extremely Christmas is Jewish because it's a pun now, doesn't use Charedi men as a cartoon stand-in for anyone Jewish, and doesn't makes being Jewish primarily about not being Christian.

In sum: RIP my browser history, I'm going to be getting such terrible ads for the next several weeks. Click the links at your own risk.

~Mod Leora

[levemetal]

Have some various OG!Shangjiu brainrot + OG!Shang Qinghua design from my side - I do like to imagine he's quite different from Airplane.

I love rareships even if they're a pain cause there is like 0 content. Guess I have to do it myself then.

Disorganized OG SQH thoughts under cut

If we can believe Airplane on SQH, his upbringing wasn't too terrible nor all that great, probably some "disposable" son in a family, starting as outer disciple on An Ding. Presumably he runs into the inadvertent ambush by Mobei-Jun, and is similarly thrown to die by his fellow disciples. Assuming this happens as such in the OG timeline, it's easy to see why SQH would have no qualms betraying the sect. Overall tho, I imagine he was ambitious even before MBJ to fight his way up the ranks regardless of the cost. I don't imagine him to be afraid to climb over corpses, if only to secure himself a place as peak lord. I could see him having a bit of a two-sidedness to him kinda like NHS. Pretend to be demure and harmless/weak to get what he wants and not draw attention since everyone assumes him incompetent outside of his work as lord of paperwork, but a lot more ruthless and unfriendly on the inside. He doesn't particularly care for his fellow peak lords and thus is willing to sell the secrets to MBJ in exchange for his life Cold and calculating, ruthless, A grade actor, two faced, rude but repays debts (like mbj leaving him alive and therefore doing stuff for him; I think he'd be aware that he's hopelessly outmatched against mbj so is this technically coercion??)

Anyway with SJ probably an enemy/rivals to lovers situation starting with a spiderman pointing meme game of "I know what you are" and ending in "everyone sucks - I agree" and watching the world burn together or something it's all still vague in my head

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Happy Birthday

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2k

Summary: An odd tradition

A/N: Felt weird writing this one y'all, but it did give me ideas...

Warnings: fluff, arguments, fluff!

You had been married for a long time. You and Wanda were at the point where you decided to stop celebrating your anniversary with anything extravagant. It was an exhausting and stressful way to say that you loved each other. You both already knew this and you had quickly learned that trying to both plan separate things was tiring. 

Similarly, you had stopped celebrating each other’s birthdays with extravagant gifts. It seemed a little trivial given that because of Wanda, you two collectively had enough money to buy anything your heart desired. After buying many extravagant trips and a new car one year, the novelty of material gifts wore off a bit. Eventually you just made a promise to spend time together since quality time could be rare to come by depending on your schedules. 

Somehow, you weren’t sure who was to blame, you and Wanda decided to start pranking each other. You weren’t sure who it had started with, but at first it was silly little harmless pranks that mildly embarrassed the birthday girl. From there, they had become slightly more involved and punishing. 

Now that Wanda’s birthday was just around the corner, it was your turn to prank your wife. Unfortunately for the redhead, you were feeling rather vindictive this year and had the perfect plan. However, you quickly realized you’d need some help accomplishing your goal. 

When you had first approached him about it, Pietro had been hesitant. Although he knew about the couple’s somewhat odd tradition, the whole family knew, he wasn’t sure if being a part of it would be a good thing. In fact, he was sure his sister would be furious and put out a hit on him if she didn’t kill him on the spot. He didn’t want Wanda to get upset at him, but then again, he couldn’t help but think that it was a little brilliant. Considering what Wanda had done to you last year, he finally agreed to help his sister-in-law pull this off. 

Wanda deserved it just a little bit.

It started with little things that Wanda wouldn’t necessarily pick up on. At first you just spent a little bit longer out of the house. Once a week you would come home late claiming to have worked on paperwork for a while after closing. Then you’d purposely forgotten about meeting the redhead for lunch one day and you’d ended up meeting Pietro instead not a block away from where you’d stood up Wanda. 

Wanda hadn’t realized anything was off until about a month later. This entire process had started a good three months before her birthday to avoid any suspicion, but now it wasn’t just Y/n that was acting out of the ordinary, Pietro was too. 

First Pietro was at their place a little more. She just thought that the blonde was visiting more because he had needed to take some time off of work due to a recent injury and he wasn’t sure what to do with his free time.  So he spent time finding a new place to live, and he came over a lot more. Wanda would find him hanging out with you when she came home from work earlier than expected. You and Pietro would sometimes watch things or simply be talking when Wanda returned. A few times she’d seemed to catch you both off-guard however, and you almost looked guilty when Wanda came home. 

Wanda never texted her brother very much, they mostly talked on the phone but one day she received a slightly confusing text that she assumed had been a mistake. Maybe a drunken one. She’d simply responded, “uh thanks, love you too.” 

It was confusing and Wanda couldn’t make heads or tails of it until a few days before her birthday. 

She’d had a rough day and didn’t get to leave until about midnight. She knew that you were home already, so she wasn’t surprised when she opened the garage door and saw your car. She was however, surprised when she’d entered her kitchen to find you and Pietro sitting on the couch. 

Specifically, Pietro was lying against the side of the couch while her wife was leaning over him as they kissed. Wanda didn’t say anything immediately as her brain failed to react, failed to register what was happening. She watched her brother and wife make out for far longer than strictly necessary to figure out what was going on. 

“What the fuck!? Pietro!?” 

It was the best that Wanda could come up with as she tried to piece together all of the clues she’d seen in the past few months. Pietro spending more time here, more time with you, and the weird behavior she’d seen from you both. She still didn’t believe what she was seeing. She didn’t believe that you and Pietro were still horizontal on her couch. She had never seen this coming. 

The pair started at the sound of her voice, and you cursed as you practically jumped off of Pietro. The blonde was slower to get up, but he didn’t look any less worried than you as you shot your wife a surprised, guilty look. 

“Wands! Hi, um, we, I uh…” 

Luckily Wanda didn’t give you any more time to stumble over any excuses, let alone apologies as she shot you two a vicious look. 

“Don’t. How long has this been going on?” 

The pair didn’t answer immediately, but they exchanged a look that made Wanda tense in anticipation. She gritted her teeth in annoyance when a few seconds passed and no one answered, but she didn’t get a chance to ask again when Pietro spoke up. 

“A few months.” 

The younger Maximoff’s mouth fell open in shock, but she quickly recovered as she tried her best to hide how hurt she was. She didn’t realize she’d moved until she had a fistful of her brother’s shirt and his face was close enough that she could see him sweating. She saw you tense in anticipation and that just made her want to punch the other Maximoff even more.

The idea of you cheating on her with her brother was too painful, too infuriating. She needed to get out, now or she was going to throttle her brother. 

Wanda shook her head and shoved Pietro away before turning to leave. She needed to distance herself from the two of you, but you stopped her.

“Wanda wait!” 

You grab her arm to stop her from leaving, but Wanda yanks it away with a glare. She turns back to her wife with an angry look. 

“What?” 

Then she watched as both you and Pietro smiled before speaking up in unison. 

“Happy birthday.” 

Your smile grew wider as Pietro merely grinned and left out through the garage without another word. Wanda’s jaw dropped again as she realized what had just happened. She was nonplussed as she stood gaping at you like a fish out of water. She was incensed, annoyed, embarrassed and so impressed with the attention you had put into this. Not to mention her brother, but that would come later, first she needed to confirm that this was all just part of her ‘birthday gift’.

“What?” 

This time she didn’t sound angry, rather confused and completely bewildered by what had just happened. You merely smile sheepishly before watching Wanda closely for her reaction. You would be the first to admit that this prank had been risky, and you were still waiting to see if it was going to blow up in your face. 

“Happy birthday, babe.” 

Wanda’s reaction this time was immediate and she turned red as she stood straighter and shot you a glare.

“Are you serious?” 

You could only laugh and wring your hands nervously as you nodded at Wanda’s reaction, which of course only made her more annoyed.

“I can’t believe you two would do this! You had me thinking that you were—what were you thinking?” 

You shook your head before you shot Wanda a challenging look that the redhead didn’t even flinch at. 

“Oh please, your prank last year was awful too.”

“But I didn’t cheat on you!”

“No! You just made me believe that you’d actually taken to a religion that said you had to leave me! Not nearly as bad!” 

Wanda continued to glare at her wife who was trying really hard not to laugh in glee. You had succeeded in fooling your wife and giving her a taste of her own medicine. You had been so frightened last year when Wanda had told you that she was going to leave you. You hadn’t been able to find the words to express how much you hated the idea. All you knew was that you couldn’t let it happen. 

Now you could see how it had made you feel because Wanda was still struck dumb by the idea. She was no longer glaring, only frowning as she finally shot you a less incensed, but more suspicious look. 

“Pietro? Really?” 

You merely laughed before nodding in confirmation. The blonde had been the perfect choice because he was someone that would be able to sell the idea without actually having to go to too much trouble. The blonde knew about their pranks and he was willing to be a part of it without any compensation, other than seeing the look on his sister’s face. 

“Brilliant, hmm?” 

Wanda scowls before she rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath about being unnecessarily cruel. You couldn’t help it and you move forward to kiss the frown off your wife’s face with another laugh. Wanda backs away with a pout before she settles on looking displeased as she thinks about how she supposes this was payback for last year. 

Finally she sighs and shoots you a look that makes you smile proudly. 

“That was pretty terrifying.” 

You figured as much and you smile as you hug your wife who eventually returns the gesture. You offer the only consolation you would that night and shrug as you watch Wanda finally relax as she laughs under her breath. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not his type.  It took a little convincing; however, that I was definitely not interested in him.”

Wanda rolls her eyes again before shaking her head with a smile. She wouldn’t lie, she couldn’t see her wife with Pietro. Knowing what she did about both of them, it had only freaked her out because it seemed so outlandish and terrifying. Now that she put some thought into it, she knew that you would never go for her brother. Also, despite how much grief he liked to give her, she knew that Pietro wouldn’t ever betray her like that. 

“For some reason you’re mine though.” 

You don’t get a chance to feel offended by the remark before Wanda kisses you again. This time it lasts longer and you can tell that Wanda was getting over her shock and anger. At least she was about to direct it toward something else she wanted. You both wanted honestly. 

“Maybe we can just go back to flowers and chocolates and stop scaring the crap out of each other?” 

You laugh before nodding in agreement. This sounds like a pretty good idea. You are about to head into the kitchen to get started on dinner, but a hand on your arm stops you in your tracks. You turn to see that Wanda’s shooting you a look that makes your heart begin to race in excitement that you hope doesn’t show on your face. 

“I’m still processing what happened, but as soon as I’m done, we’ll talk about your punishment.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Wanda’s already walked past you to the kitchen. You’re just going to have to see if the look on your wife’s face earlier will be worth whatever lies ahead. 

“And Pietro’s.” 

You hope so.  

Masterlist

Taglist: @idkwhatever580