#flying papers || reblog

[love-songs-for-emma]

how do i turn off this awful new feature on tumblr mobile (android user, US) where you're shown a random reblog comment sometimes below a post???

[whereserpentswalk]

Look under the cut to see what meeting your entity is like. Reblog to give a gift to your patron.

The fae: a creature stands before you. Though this street was warm and crowded a few moments ago it is suddenly cold and the people around you look like shadows. The creature begins an antlered shadow with glowing white eyes, but soon its body can be seem, with white blue flesh, and sapphire eyes, and icicles for teeth. What looks like a cloak unfolds from its naked body and you can see massive white wings of a moth. As if it's an act of sacrifice you tell it your true name, a name you didn't even see before, and suddenly you belong to it, for better or worse.

The angel: a radiant entity appears before you. They're bright, like something so hot it would burn you up. But as the light fades, you can see a person in silver armor, perfect yet inhuman like am ancient green statue, their back srouting six wings with blue eyes along them, as the eyes on their head are covered by a mask of two smaller wings. The creature offers their hands and you shake it, as they fly you through the city streets and above the skyscrapers, to the stars above and dimensions beyond, to gods living and dead, across the streets of alien cities and the clouds of dead worlds. And when you return to the earth you can feel something diffrent about you, like there's light in your blood.

The scavenger: below the lights of skyscrapers beyond you, on the dark sands of the beach, you see it crawling twords you. This serpentine creature with countless legs, and a dark black shell, yet a strangely human like face. You think it'll attack or run away, but it just looks at you, egar, and for a momment you stare at eachother. It's legs pass something to eachother and then to you, it's meat but it's shining with all the colors known to the human eye, and a few more. You hold it and it happily looks at you. You take a bite and suddenly you know... you know so very much...

The vampire: she flies down to you on green wings with orange eyespots, but folds them into her back. She looks like a human for a momment, tall and strong, with a black suit over her body, but eyes the color of ruby. For a momment her mouth opens, and it's massive and monstrous, with countless moving parts and fangs. But then it folds back onto something humanoid and she gives you a playful smirk. She cuts her hand and offers you her blood, and when you drink it it tastes so sweet, and makes you feel so good. She hands you the knife and you know to do the same, and when she drinks from your palm it's life the sweetest of kisses.

The djinn: the room wirs around you. If it were not for the fans it would feel like hellfire. For a momment there it darkness, but then the screen before you glows white like smokeless flame. You can sense something inside, something beyond the code. You reach your hand within it, and there's no glass, your hand passess right through until you're in a white void of your own making. You call out, thinking there is nothing at all around you. Yet somehow something calls back, something that knows your name.

The rat king: You see him in an empty subway station. Something dark and distorted, you're not sure if he's man or animal, covered in rags, and singing in the language of the goblins and the orcs. Yet he comes close to you excited. And you can feel his song. He calls for you to come to the train tracks, and let yourself run with the rats and the roaches, where the train will pass over you when it comes, and you'll live forever. When you touch the third rail you don't die, but you'll never be human again.

The lich: the library is strangely bright. Run by skeletons in suits, decorated with gold. There are more books here then you thought were in all the world. There's knowledge here most mortals will never have the change below, all kept safe below the city. You see her, her body doesn't look human, everything has been replaced making her look more like a joining white doll then a being of flesh. Yet she is dead, you can tell that under the porcelain skin she must be dead, she is dead, and there is the tragedy of death in her eyes. You come closer to her, and she places a black rose within your hair...

The demon: You stand in his office and he stands before you, a humanoid being covered in black scales, with red eyes covering his skin. Yet none are on his head, that remains featureless save for two massive horns. Wings on his back nearly surround you. Countless souls line the walls of his office, looking at you, waiting. After you sign your name you give him yours, you can feel it come away for you forever and your eyes grey and your skin pales. But he puts the jar in a special place for you, you're spacial, he can tell there's something about you that he likes.

The mushroom lord: you walk through the darkness of the forest, the furthest from civilization you have ever been. You come upon a part where the trees all seem dead, that even the cryptids won't go near. Mushrooms fill the ground, and white vein like lines are all over the trees. You feel the need to lay down, and you let the moss and the mushrooms and the worms surround you, and let yourself sink into the soil,, and it feels good. It feels so good...

The witch: You can see them in the Cafe next to you, skinny and small, with a sweatshirt over most of their body, and dark glasses over their eyes. They seem powerful though, and though their body looks young they seem ancient, they seem beyond humanity. You talk to them and they tell you things, and secrets, lost gods, things you never knew you didn't know, both beautiful and disturbing. When it's time for them to go they pet your head, and give you their number. You don't know if you should text them, but you have to, you have to see them again, there's something about them that makes you need to know.

The living clothing: you step into it at first, it looked like a puddle yet shining like silver or chrome. But soon it surrounds you, first just your torso, but soon your head, your entire body. But it doesn't feel scary, it feels like you're being held, held by something beyond your understanding. It whispers to you, and you don't know if you should feel like your being eaten alive, or like you're being protected. You can't help but keep walking.

The abyss: the void is before you, blackness beyond blackness, like the color beyond the field of your vision, stands before your eyes. You stare at it, it's nothing yet you're entranced. It stares back...

[ms-demeanor]

Sometimes college professors like to hop on my posts lamenting the sorry state of syllabi these days and joke about how they haven't thought that far ahead in the course themselves, or talk about how they struggle to complete a schedule for their students.

With all due respect, that's your job. If you can't do your job, you should have a different job. If you need help, ask your colleagues or your department chair or *someone* because I know that professors aren't given a hell of a lot of education on how to educate, so you probably *need* help.

But every single time I make one of those posts I get anywhere from ten to thirty messages, replies, reblogs, and asks say "oh man, that's exactly why I had to drop out of school; I couldn't keep up with the assignments because I didn't know when they were due until the week they were due."

I have been a college student in three separate decades, and "not having a schedule of assignments in the syllabus" is new to my experience. That shit didn't fly in the 2000s or 2010s and I think it likely has to do with professors being overly reliant on apps.

AT A MINIMUM your syllabus should have:

Contact information (including preferred method of contact) for the professor

Office Hours

Grading Policy

Assignment schedule.

Your assignment schedule doesn't necessarily need to have the exact page numbers of every reading or a full assignment sheet for each project, but it should have things like:

December 1st - Major Project 3 second draft due December 9th - Quiz 10 December 12th - Major Project 3 final draft due December 15th - Final Exam

If you end up presenting a more thorough schedule with readings and homework later, that is acceptable to present a week or two into the semester but it is absolutely insane to me that students these days don't know what homework they're going to have to get done over Thanksgiving break during the first couple weeks of class.

If I had three professors at once who didn't give me a schedule, how on earth would I know if I was going to have to read three chapters of a novel, take a midterm and turn in two stats homework assignments, and complete a history research paper the same week that I'm planning to travel to see family? If I'm aware of this from the beginning of the semester I can make sure not to pick up extra shifts, or I can plan to leave a day later to accommodate the midterm, or I can start working on the paper early to complete it before the due date but if I don't know what's going to be due when, I'm going to have a big problem.

If you don't give your students a schedule you are communicating that you don't care about their schedule, and that you think it's their responsibility to contort their life (and their job, and their other classes) around your class, and honestly my advice to students in that situation is "drop in the first week and pick up another class". That's actually part of why I recommend signing up for one more class than you can really manage - if you get a professor whose class looks like it's going to be a disaster because they don't have a schedule, you can bail before the withdrawal period and get a refund for the class.

I'm only in one class this semester but the professor's response has fully dropped me into "Fuck it, I guess I'll fail" mode and I don't even know if I can pull myself out of my current D grade because I don't know how many assignments we have left in the semester.

This is a shitty way to run a class. If you can't do better than this, you shouldn't be running a class.

[c00kietin]

GREAT CONVERSATION STARTER FRIEND! THANKYU VERY MUCH!! :333

[bcdrawsandwrites]

(Please reblog if you want to, don't repost! Do not post to Pinterest! Do not tag as ship, please!)

The concept for this comic came to me abruptly and I knew I had to draw it before I lost interest in it. It was too funny/cute not to draw, haha.

[ID: A five panel Inanimate Insanity comic, featuring MePad and Toilet on the contestant grounds during the day. In the first panel, MePad approaches Toilet, who is drawing something on a pink sheet of paper with a purple marker held in his mouth. Both characters are shown from behind. MePad asks, "What are you up to, Toilet?"

In the second panel, Toilet whirls around, pulling the paper with him in his invisible grip and letting the marker fly out of his mouth. His expression is ecstatic as he replies, "Oh, MePad! Looky here!"

In the third panel, Toilet holds up the paper, revealing a very rough drawing (with the purple ink running) of two catlike creatures, both depicted with stick limbs. The one sitting on the left has a large screen head with MePad's scribbled face and ears on top and is labeled "MEPAD" while the one standing on the right has Toilet's bowl and lid for a mouth and is labeled "ME." Toilet proudly announces, "I drew us as kitties! What do you think?"

In the fourth panel, MePad stares forward with a blank expression on his face.

In the fifth panel, MePad's expression turns into an amused smile as a notification appears at the bottom of his screen, showing a smaller image of Toilet's drawing alongside text reading, "Image saved to Memories" /end ID]

[rinnstars]

imagineee, aquarium dates with rin. LIKE, SEEING JELLYFISHES AND SHARKS AND CUTE TURTLES WITH OUR RINNIE?? perfecto *chefs kiss*. until you encounter a boy who strayed away from his teacher during their fieldtrip, and starts to tag along with you both. he likes rin but nags you so much?? wow, unfair! anyway, that's all, thank you @rinnstars !! mwa mwa !!

( i got this idea from the C-drama "When I Fly Towards You". the aquarium scene in episode 9 where they happened to be babysitters until the boy was brought back to his teacher and classmates. + please make this in the original timeline. highschool sweethearts with rinrin ( 16 or 17 ) >3< )

sea you with me!

aquarium dates with you

itoshi rin x reader: mainly from rin’s pov, fluff, a little bit of crack, not proofread + likes and reblogs are appreciated

notes: HIIII anon!!!! YES OFCCCC<333 fun fact is that i have never been to one but i hope it’s still sort of accurate TT spent my lesson break for this I JUST GOT A LITTLE EXCITED… just a little!!!! <3 dwww i read ur other part of req tooo although its in the bonus section ish !! <333

holding your hand in the midst of the crowd that forms around different section of glasses featuring different sea creature - from translucent-like jellyfish that practically shines underneath the blue shimmering light above it hovering around, from green turtles that floats around slowly serenely right next and in contrast to the shark that seem to bare its teeth to show its glory to the people looking in awe. he thinks hes lovesick when he sees that and glance at the reflection of you and him, so reminiscent of those sea creatures - with you being as ethereal and breath-taking as the jellyfish as you smile and him being the sharks being placed on display in a separate tank right beside yours in contrast the same way he frowns and grimaces and glares at others.

really, he thinks he doesn’t quite fit the atmosphere - filled with other students with their friends cheerily taking pictures of one another in front of each glass panel with their digicam (that’s inside his pocket if you ever ask for it), filled with noisy kids that yelp and tug at their parents shirt as they attempt to navigate the already-crowded area, filled with people that dress picture-perfect and light to match the atmosphere in contrast to his black jacket hiding his school uniform. and again, he is reminded of his own lovesickness - forgoing a lazy after school hang out with you right in his bedroom playing yours and his favourite song whilst eating food from that cafe he knows youre practically addicted to simply because you asked him to, without any pleadings or begging. yet, don’t get him wrong, hes having fun here although not in the traditional sense - he enjoys seeing you point and brighten up when you see a fish that just catches your attention as you skip right to it, he enjoys feeling your hands against his as though made for each other as you tug against it to move to the next section, and most importantly he really does enjoy seeing you enjoy yourself. after all, he knows you deserve especially after exam season - he’s seen you all drained out lying your head on your desk just days ago clearly exhusasted a few hours after insisting you’ll be fine, he’s seen your piles of notes and assignments and even more printed exam papers to redo for your exam that he thinks your table has already become the equivalent of an library, and hes seen you fallen asleep at your desk way later than you should be after his football club with tears stains that he wished to have been there to wipe away, to kiss away, anything to have prevented you from having cried.

and its this point as you two are chatting about life, leaning in closer to you, where that colourful fish that has been staying still seems to have woken up and in its hurry seem to swim desperately to another side that startles the both of you (he wishes to curse that fish for it would have been a scene out of a manga that you always read if he had mustered the courage to kiss you right there and then), leading you to stumble and almost hit someone - and by someone, its apparently a little kid who looks confused and dazed, not even moving as you almost crash right into him.

you look at that little kid and he looks right back at you with his wide eyes - and hes pretty sure it lasts a while more before you apparently decide to play “adopt me” (just like when you and him were both kids on roblox.. but he digress…) and he’s pretty sure he might just have accidentally glared at the kid with the way he tugs at your jacket as he walks behind you as though hiding from him. and of course, hes used to that sight, hes never been great with kids - having scared his little cousin with just his looks at some point that led him to be reprimanded by said cousin’s parents, having been bitten by said little cousin as soon as his parents left almost letting out a ear-shattering scream that would have completely shattered whatever ego was left from that bite mark that lasted weeks, having being thrown a drink at by said cousin another time whilst he was minding his business playing games beside him whilst having to save his switch and end up soaking wet in his home clothes for another hour or so (and he’s sworn off babysitting for his cousin ever since then) (he had to go to blue lock)

but in front of you, he wants a little pride, to impress you, he digresses - tugging at his pocket to offer the little kid in front of you a candy (out of the many he brings to give to you and to snack on himself). and he knows hes successful, letting himself smile slightly in victory as the kid face appears from behind you, cautiously accepting the candy that rin helps to tear away the packet of for him to enjoy. and perhaps he associates that sugary sweet strawberry flavour that bursts in his mouth with the two of you, suddenly turning from the quiet and confused kid you randomly found to a kid who suddenly was open and talkative, all smiles and laughter, holding the both of your hands in his and skipping, pulling you and rin with him.

and now, he finds himself no longer pulled by you, but this random kid - but when he looks at you who’s attention is clearly on the kid, smiling and nodding to whatever things he’s saying, you practically you look like an angel especially with the way the aquarium white and blue lights were illuminating you. and midway of course, he slowly lets go of rin’s hand, leaving him behind almost comically as he holds yours and his bag. and he can practically feel eyes glared at him, and all he wants to do is to run away as he walks behind you and that little kid that he now suddenly feels was against him all along - with the way he tugs and your arm and..!

“.. mhm! ah! wait those are my parents! bye bye!” he says, turning back at you and rin with a bright smile that practically filled your heart with warmth as though he was the sun, waving excitedly at the both of you before he cheerily skips towards his parents who looked confused at where he was, pulling him by the hand worriedly.

and with that, your hands are back to merging with his, and that tint of red on his face from embarrassment changes into a blush across his face that is only highlighted by the lights from having his hands on you, walking about in the sea exhibition. he wonders a little what that kid told you, for you to hold his hands seemingly a little tighter, leaning your head on his shoulder that isn’t completely uncharacteristic but still a little strange as you glance at another exhibition of fishes swimming passionately around the tank as though dancing, brushing his hair aside before leaning in and merging your lips with his that practically makes his heart flutters and pump even faster than it does on the field - and he swears he understands all those mangas you rave about teenage romance and whatnot when youre practically made for him.

bonus:

“… seriously bachira… i don’t think that’s rin…”

“it seriously is! i followed him from that cafe! i’m serious isagi!!”

“with that kind of personality…?”

“hey! keep it down a little he’s about to turn around..?!”

and rin thinks hes going to lose his mind when he turns around after that kiss only to see his isagi and bachira huddled together whispering clearly about him in their respective school uniform, tugging you by your hand to somewhere else as he sees them through the reflective glass of the exhibitions following him and you a little too obviously. but he guesses if its with you, he doesn’t mind it at all.

[sarangcoups]

seventeen if they were in ghibli

— hyung line ; maknae line

note. an experiment on what would take shape if I let the films' plot and characters interact w the members. peep the easter eggs (allusions to svt/solo songs). I haven't encountered other ghibli x svt content, but if there is, this is just my spin on it as an ardent ghibli lover! I'm new to the svt fanfic community as a writer (mostly have been reading), so come say hi if you're so inclined! as everyone says, reblogs are appreciated <3

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL as SHO from The Secret World of Arrietty

Resting before a surgery just around the corner. Friends being far away. Grappling with loneliness. My mother used to tell me about the little people who lived under the floors. Sugar cubes left for the Borrower to find. Well-meaning deeds with disastrous consequences. Learning to love hidden sorrows. When I saw you, I just wanted to find a way to protect you. You gave me the courage to live.

YOON JEONGHAN as HOWL PENDRAGON from Howl’s Moving Castle

A charming smile. Strolling across the sky. He’ll eat your heart. A fierce love for magic meets a deep hatred for conflict. His ideals against the world. Mischief that cloaks gentle care. A secret garden. The boy who swallowed a star becomes a man with someone to protect. A heart’s a heavy burden. There you are, sweetheart; sorry I’m late, I was looking everywhere for you.

HONG JISOO as KAZAMA SHUN from From Up on Poppy Hill

Seeing flags hoisted every morning. Soaked in water—a daredevil feat (for a cause). Inserting a poem in the school paper. Famous around the school. Quiet moments of everyday life. A mischievous gentleman. The past casting its shadow. Going to the city with the wishes of others on his back. Feelings that can’t be denied. Suppressed emotions that overflow into confrontations. Eventually things fall into place.

WEN JUNHUI as OGAKI KANTA from My Neighbor Totoro

Sticking his tongue out at the new neighbors moving in. Simultaneously shy and impish. Unexpected acts of kindness. Offering his umbrella despite getting drenched himself. Observant. A softening to the new faces that grows into genuine concern. A willingness to help. An outsider to his neighbors’ sadness, but somehow cognizant of it. Not quite willing to be seen, but craves it nonetheless.

KWON SOONYOUNG as TOMBO from Kiki’s Delivery Service

The boy with a flying bike and bright smile. Attention swept away by the town’s new (flying) arrival. Needling questions are rebuffed, yet he remains undeterred. An invitation to a party. Being stood up in the rain. A wish to fly channeled into creativity. An innocent desire to ride the dirigible turned crisis, turned crisis averted. Elevates himself from mild annoyance to dear companion.

JEON WONWOO as HORIKOSHI JIROU from The Wind Rises

Airplanes (dreams) that make the rest of the world fall away. A eureka moment with a fishbone. Helping a stranger without a second thought. A chance encounter, years later. Proposing during a weekend vacance. Marriage where the days are numbered. In candlelight: one hand working, the other clasping his lover. Beautiful, cursed dreams. You must live. The ghost of love rises with the lonely wind.

LEE JIHOON as HAKU from Spirited Away

A prodigy of magic. Sometimes strict, always caring. His motives are unclear, but his kindness is undeniable. Rice balls offered for strength. A white dragon soaring through the skies. You don’t remember your name? —No, but somehow I remember yours. A grave injury. Kindness that comes full circle. Missing pieces return all at once. A last promise: that we will meet again.

[papermint-airplane]

I see your Sims 4 seagull orgy and raise you Sims 3 flying fuck pigeons.

What in the birds and bees is going on here?

[hwaightme]

In your eyes

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)

(masterlist)

📚 pairing: postgrad!bf!hongjoong x afab!gn!reader 📚 genre: smut, established relationship, so much fluff 📚 summary: time is nobody's friend, and hongjoong often finds himself wondering how much he has lost. thankfully, you always remind him of how beautiful the present and future can be, how full of love, how intimate, how true. 📚 wordcount: 4.0k 📚 warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, semi-edited (do let me know if i missed something), they are so in love, teaching assistant joong, so many pet names (love, darling, etc), he is down bad, mention of time anxiety, mild relationship worries, mention of winter holiday season, y/n is an office worker (nothing specific), mention of exams (joong grading), sort of from joong's perspective 📚 taglist: below 📚 a/n: something about academic joong makes me feel many types of ways... anyhow- hope this is enjoyable and gives warm feels <33; live laugh love joong; any notes, reblogs, comments are highly appreciated! thank you

📚nsfw tags: sub-leaning switch joong, service top energy joong, lovemaking, handjob, fingering, dry humping, praise, begging, piv w condom, missionary, mating press, overstimulation, light cuddling, implied aftercare but not described

Tired eyes. Paper after paper decorated with green ink, subsequently joining the pile that was starting to take over the dining table. The persistent glow of the laptop screen, reflected in a pair of tortoiseshell-frame glasses that kept threatening to slide down an elegant nose. While grading papers was not exactly something that Hongjoong would dream of doing during the winter holidays, it came with his job, and so was not entirely abysmal. Perhaps the only issue was that he had grossly underestimated how much time and focus this task would take. Morning rapidly turned into day, and day equally as quickly trickled into evening, leaving him without as much as a moment to spare for the things people usually occupied themselves with at this time of year. Though, perhaps it was important to note that it was not the actual festivities that he longed for and felt apologetic that he could not partake in thanks to his own decisions, but rather a certain someone.

After finishing grading yet another paper, Hongjoong set his pen aside and roughly rubbed his eyes, careful to not send his glasses flying. Only now did he notice just how dark the room had gotten, barely a sliver of light crawling in through the windows, with no thanks to the gloomy weather outside. He rose from his chair, rolling his shoulders from having been in the same position for an uncomfortable number of hours, and ambled to one of the many floor lamps that were neatly stationed around the living room, each with its own story. He picked a particularly whimsical one right in the corner, squinting when it burst to life, revealing its curious design of frosted flowers, branches, and songbirds. Reluctant feet carried him back to the chair, now turned into an instrument for torturous isolation.

“Enough, you know what, enough…” Hongjoong’s whisper cut through the eerie silence of the apartment. Pushing the rest of the papers away, he leaned back with a huff and slid his phone out of the back pocket of his trousers.

The journey to his home screen was swift, only to end in a deliberate pause as he studied it with a sorrowful smile. He was unsure as to why a pang of melancholy had taken a sudden hold on him, but seeing your happy face as you were looking at a bungeoppang neatly tucked into a tiny white bag - a precious moment from a casual date you had gone on - had him irrationally spiraling. You lived together, and yet, he missed you. He longed to hold you in his arms for longer than a few seconds before pulling away. He dreamed of staying in the same room for what could be ages, sharing the quiet atmosphere, or maybe listening to your favorite songs together. The dark winter nights were taking a toll on him, and in utter solitude, the natural tendency to ruminate reigned supreme and let his worries wander freely from his mind and straight to his fragile heart.

When Hongjoong and yourself had discussed winter vacation, the conclusion was reached without much back and forth. You were not taking any days off, and Hongjoong made the most of his time off, well, doing more work. In retrospect, it might have been a silly idea on his part, but much like how you had explained it back to him, if it meant solidifying his position by being on the good side of his supervisor and being responsible for more things as a teaching assistant, it was worth it. But now, seeing couples roaming the streets around the city whenever he commuted into university, and generally the mere notion of having only the evenings and odd parts of the weekend to spend with you started to make him sick to the stomach. Without realizing it, he had driven himself into a corner, and he wanted out.

Before he could get any further than the usual perusal of social media, he heard the muted rattling of keys, and in a matter of seconds, the front door opened, revealing a familiar form. His eyes immediately settled on you, noting how you shrugged off your messenger bag and coat, leaving them on the ottoman in the corridor rather than hanging them up—clearly, he was not the only one tired. Nonetheless, when you raised your head after having freed yourself from the confines of your dress shoes, a smile spread across your face.

“Hi Joongie,” and just like that, his heart picked up its previously lethargic pace. 

“Welcome home my love,” the endearment slipped off his tongue, earning him an amused chuckle. 

“Mhm, missed me?”

“Maybe a little,” he played coy, knowing full well that you could read him like an open book no matter what front he put up. He returned your gleam, keeping his undivided attention on you as you sauntered off in the opposite direction. 

“I just need to change and I’ll be right back, alright?”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, the laptop and exams on the table irritated him. Hongjoong rose and tidied the papers into neater piles, shut his laptop, and arranged them all on the other side, as far away from him as possible; in his mind, should you two decide to have dinner in this room instead of the kitchen, you could sit closer to him. A win in any book. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt further up and carded his fingers through his hair, undoing a couple of unruly knots. What was he readying himself for? Maybe the answer was something beyond him, but he could not deny the warmth in his chest that grew and grew when he spotted you across the corridor once again, only now in a pair of pajama bottoms and one of the band t-shirts that he owned and you constantly borrowed.

Caught in a miniature mental disarray, he remained where he was, only slightly moving to allow for your arms to snake around his torso, and his hands to settle on your waist. Your embrace was grounding, boundless in affection, and Hongjoong gave up to the floaty sensation as he leaned in and buried his face in the crook of your neck. Surrounded by the remnants of the light, daytime perfume that you used, he found himself in paradise. He sensed a hand trail up his spine and start to toy with the longer hairs at the back of his head. This was a habit that you had only recently picked up, seeing as, for once, he was letting his hair grow longer, and he would be lying if this was not motivation for him to keep the mission going indefinitely. A warning hum erupted from somewhere deep in his chest when you lightly tugged. In a feeble attempt to mask his response to your playful caresses, he murmured:

 “How was work?”

“The usual, though it was quieter now that most people are off,” Hongjoong lifted his head and was immediately dazed by the adoration pooling in your eyes. You looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky. Inadvertently, he pulled you closer, and yet still wasn’t quite satisfied.

“How’s everything for you?”

“Been focusing on the exams today, got through most of them actually.”

“Oh look at you, my scholar,” you whispered in response, tapping Hongjoong’s nose with your own. Meekly, he smiled and attempted to look away, only to be guided right back with your steady hand that had now let go of his hair, instead resting on his jaw.

“I should be the one praising you… who closed that insane project that was initially expected to be postponed into the new year, hm?”

“That I did, indeed, but doesn’t take away from how proud I am of you,” your words were honey, trickling into his ears and coating his very soul like a soothing balm.

“And I am proud of you.”

“We did well, didn’t we, Joongie?” The nickname had him wavering, tip-toeing on the edge of rationality.

“Mhm,” his next words came on their own accord, raw, vulnerable, barely audible, “I really missed you, darling.”

“But I am here, aren’t I?”

“I’m sorry, I might be getting greedy,” his hands ghosted over your hips until one hand pushed you into him by the small of your back. You let out a gasp, but quickly regained your composure, clearly not taken aback. 

“Not that I mind it… Ah, is my poor Joong lonely?” after a few seconds of silence, you continued, “you are so precious, you know that?” He loved that expression you got when you basked in the glow of knowing. Knowing just how far gone Hongjoong was for you. It was embarrassing at times to reveal and admit how pathetic he could become just to see that little smirk, even just to himself, but he did not dwell on it for the reward was far too great, “tell me what you mean, baby.”

“I-... I know we agreed to keep things busy this winter but I can’t help but want… yeah, I miss you.”

“Can’t help but want me, you mean?” you detangled his intricate web in no time. Hongjoong walked in circles, while you cut straight to the chase. Maybe this was why he did not care for much at all except for your understanding and your reciprocation. He nodded, finding solace in hiding his face in your neck once more.

“Well, baby, what’s got you so pensive? Hm? Tell me?” your voice shifted from allure to sweet concern as you checked in. Hongjoong was all the more exposed, every move less calculated than the one prior, and your infinite devotion towards him, his thoughts, his everything was making him too dizzy to stand up straight.

“I just… hm, I don’t know-”

“You do, maybe are just too shy to tell me?”

“I want to spend more time with you, just us, you know? Little dates, we don’t have to do much… but I want us to be present, ah what am I even saying-”

“You were saying something that I would love to do, Hongjoong,” you were quieter than before, more tender, “we have definitely been a little relaxed after moving in together, haven't we?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t say that-”

“I would. And that won’t do. So, how about we start now, then?”

All too delectable were the images that flashed in Hongjoong’s mind, and he felt bashful and helpless under your steady scrutiny. With your pointer finger resting under his chin, he could not do anything except stare back, a task proving to be increasingly challenging as heat rose on his cheeks. His head moved on its own accord, response shallow, almost a tremble rather than agreement.

“Words, Joongie, good boys use words.”

Oh how he craved you. His stomach coiled at your dangerous reminder. Instead of any coherent phrase, vulnerable, shallow breaths danced between you and him. Nobody was his audience except you, nobody knew him like you did, and yet the sheer weight of his infatuation with you was preventing him from saying a single thing, despite any fears being irrational. As soon as he were to say what was yelling at him in his mind, you would be satisfied, and allow him to drown in everything that you were.

“Yes…” he choked out, relieved upon detecting the beginnings of a feline grin.

“Yes what? Do elaborate.”

“Yes I- want this. I want us, I want you.” 

“How?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” heart hammering in his chest, he stammered.

“In that kind of mood, are you?”

“Oh please-” he wanted to disappear, shrinking back to free himself from your hand to no avail. Your chest again his, lips a mere tilt of the head away, and his senses were flooded.

“I’d love to, Joongie, I’d love to take care of you.”

Soft lips moulded perfectly with his, like freshly fallen snow. Hongjoong’s senses went into overdrive as the kiss built up into a sultry, addictive rhythm. Teeth grazed his lower lip ever so gently, and before he could react,you deepened the kiss by resting your arms on his shoulders. Immediately his hands responded by finding purchase on your lower back. He was grateful that your mouth muffled the whine bubbling in his throat as you purposefully shifted your body into his. But somehow, it was still not enough. 

“Mh- sorry-” Parting for air was simply an excuse for Hongjoong to fish for his glasses with a trembling hand and set them down on the nearest surface. Apparently, it was not a distraction to you in the slightest.

Your onslaught continued past his plush, reddened lips and across his jaw, ending on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. He jolted, but when you chased him to nip at the same place again he took no time in giving you better access. You moved again, leaving quick pecks on his lips and pressing your forehead against his. In the breathless euphoria any chances to overthink had disappeared, and he allowed himself to let go, to be completely yours. He was willingly leaving himself to be at your mercy, knowing that he was going to be safe, going to be adored. In a flurry of emotion, he bared his soul.

“I love you,” he did not notice the shakiness in his own hands until you raced to clasp them with your own.

“I love you too, Joongie.”

It took one step for him to start following you to the bedroom. You appeared as the very notion of calm, guiding Hongjoong. You let go of one of his hands to switch on a bedside lamp, making haste to return your attention to him. He melted under your touch, half-lidded eyes following how your swift fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. You treated him like he was priceless porcelain, a touch here, another there, skillfully ghosting over the places you know, from experience, would send him reeling and falling to your feet. But it was obvious that this was not the night for such a progression. Tonight was about connecting beyond the physical, about exploring intimacy as more than just some flimsy term.

As soon as you gave the sign, Hongjoong shrugged off his top, shivering momentarily until your hands were back, roaming his chest and waist freely. Enthralled, he mumbled your name. His eyes roamed ceaselessly as you got undressed, standing proudly before him, almost fully bare, beautiful. While you had told him you changed, evidently that included a conscious decision to dress up in the most enticing lingerie - he thought it was impossible to keep falling in love like this, but he kept on proving himself wrong whenever you were with him. Even though he had seen you like this many times over, every time left him wondering how he could possibly have found someone so lovely. Words escaped him. 

“Leaving me alone like this?” you asked, a smirk etching itself into your features. You did not need to ask Hongjoong twice for him to clumsily begin undoing his trousers and settle on the edge of the bed, face flushed.

“So precious, so good to me,” you cooed, carding your fingers through his wavy locks.

When you straddled his lap and inched dangerously close to his boxers, Hongjoong swore his head was spinning. Prompted by another gentle tug at his hair, he kissed the soft skin of your breasts, one hand making quick work out of undoing your bra while the other played with the lacy fabric. 

He followed your sighs, your sharp inhales and exhales, the sounds you bit back and he would tirelessly do anything to hear. His teeth grazed you ever so lightly as he travelled from one breast to another, a trail of kisses remaining anywhere he went. You grinded your hips into his with more purpose, feeling that delicious heat starting to rise in your core. Hongjoong responded with a flick of his tongue on your nipple, humming when he could finally rid you of pesky material, leaving him with every chance to show his love for you. Fingers stimulated the one he had shifted away from, while his other hand returned to its rightful place on your lower back. 

It was as though a fire had enveloped him. There was not enough space, not enough air, and yet his only wish was to be so close to you that he could simply disappear. He was painfully aware of his hardening length, the continuous friction leaving him with half a mind to start begging. For what? Perhaps, for anything. Anything that you would give. You pulled yourself even closer, now sat directly on top of the growing wetness on his boxers, putting all the more effort into your hips. Airy mewls spilled from his lips, and he lunged to hold you, hands on your ass encouraging you to continue to untangle him at this agonising pace.

It was a game of lips, tongue and teeth. You returned to kissing him, foregoing whatever stability you tried to contain to completely sink into his form. Taken as he was by you, Hongjoong tried his best to keep up, lewd, slick noise that echoed in his ears only spurring him on. 

Your limbs were cotton, thoughts preoccupied by a carnal want. Palming his erection, you smiled against Hongjoong’s lips when he moaned.

“How’s that baby, hm?”

“Don’t stop-”

“Want more? Is that right?” feverish nods, resulting in you pulling at the elastic of his boxers, “Off,” you sat up a little to help him, balancing with your knees on the bed as he shimmied the fabric off just enough for you to push it further down to his ankles, “so pretty.”

You covered your palm in his dripping pre-cum and smoothed it down his length in a couple of skilled pumps, amused by Hongjoong’s adamance to be obedient, pursing his lips to remind himself that he shouldn’t buck into you. His gaze was fixated on your caresses, just enough to drive him mad, but not enough to take him over the edge, only ever wavering to glance at your still-clothed pussy. Judging by your momentary spell of quiet, you were trying to focus on him at the expense of your own desires. 

With another groan, Hongjoong slipped your panties to the side, calloused fingers immediately being coated in slick. Rhythmic circles over your clit turned to music to his ears as you mewled, leaning forward to find his shoulder, biting it ever so slightly. With every breathy moan his body kept on screaming for you, your warmth unbearably inviting. When he dipped two fingers into your core your movements faltered and you squeezed around his base in warning. He could lose himself then and there, sheer power of will leaving him one thread to hang by.

“Baby, can I please-”

“Say it, Joong,”

“Can we take it to the end? Please, please I-”

“If we don’t I’d be upset. I, want, you, so, bad-” you punctuated your response with pecks across his face, an ecstatic grin meeting his own.

You and him were a mess of limbs and pleasure falling onto the bed, him helping you over and pulling the panties completely off, humming at the sight. He was eager to please, ensuring you were comfortable with how you were lying down. Adjusting the pillows, placing one under your hips to avoid any strain, checking that you would not hit the headboard, stretching towards the drawer to take out a condom, speedily tearing the packaging and rolling it on. You watched him, enamoured. Beauty, inside and out, ethereal in the honey-coloured light.

He positioned himself at your entrance, gliding his tip a couple of times over your sensitive clit before pushing in. You sighed, head falling back at the relieving fullness. Your walls clenched around him as he bottomed out, making him let out a low growl. He shifted his weight forwards until his arms were on either side of you and he could indulge in your every expression.

It was a delightful stretch. Your every sense was filled by him, and only him. Then, he began to move. He started agonisingly slow, pulling out almost his entire length only to drive it back in, punctuated by the sound of skin against skin. He dragged his hips almost lazily, but you knew better than to assume that this was going to continue for much longer, given his shallow breathing.

Hiis thrusts became more accentuated, faster within a few minutes, and you searched for anything that you could hold, all too quickly losing yourself. In a feeble attempt to reach for him you lifted your arms upwards. More often than not you did not need to explain to Hongjoong what it was you wanted - he read you and understood, just like now. With a strained chuckle he edged forwards until he was close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. The feeling of your digits back in his hair had him biting his lower lip, barely containing his building high.

A particularly deep thrust made you tug at strands, and he moaned, rolling his hips with newfound vigour. Every time you clenched around him he became more frantic. The glide against your walls was perfection, the familiar coil tightening at a frightening speed towards a crashing release. Your arms collapsed when Hongjoong cursed under his breath, tapping your thighs to angle them upwards. You shifted upwards, legs barely wrapped around him as the new position gave him even more depth and freedom to pound into you.

The wetness embracing him was downright vulgar, noise enhancing the redness of his cheeks. You tensed around him, previously quiet pants transforming into a mantra of his name. He gripped your thighs in a last attempt to remain grounded, but as waves of your climax took over you and you pulsed around his cock, limbs trembling, all he could do was give in. Give into you, give into white hot euphoria. You were soaking him, he was rapidly getting overstimulated but he could not careless, remaining exactly where he was even though his muscles were screaming.

He was completely spent. Nothing but adoration towards you remained. He winced as he pulled out and hastily took off the condom, far too sensitive to function. Falling to your side, he watched the rise and fall of your chest, entranced by how even the smallest details that you possessed had their own brilliance. After a few moments you shifted, pushing the pillow from underneath you and turning to the side, facing Hongjoong. Your sleepy, but totally mesmerised gaze made his heart hurt. You. It was you who he loved, you who he lived with, you with whom he could make love like this. 

“Hi,” you whispered with a giggle.

“Hi,” he brushed your cheek and kissed you again. You lifted your arm, suggesting that he were to move closer to you. Much to his dismay, a surge of stimulation pulsed through him, making him gasp. Thankfully, you took it with good humour, eyes travelling down his body, seductive even in the afterglow. 

“I am not sure I should move just yet,” he suggested with a chuckle, astonished with himself.

“Hm… then let me get us all cleaned up and I-”

“-you are not moving either,” powering through, Hongjoong stretched his arm until it was lying across your torso. There was no force behind the action itself, except maybe in his pouting lips that you could not help but want to kiss again and again. You chuckled and feigned annoyed acceptance.

“Fine, I guess we can stay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more,” you countered.

“Impossible.”

You shifted closer until all you could see was Hongjoong’s face, and all he could see was yours. And yet, somehow, in each other’s eyes, you could see the world. Those plans you mentioned, those worries, those wishes, those desires all collected in miniature universes of the soul, reflections and projections of a life lived and to be lived together. Dreamy eyes.

📚perma-taglist: @charreddonuts @preciouswoozi @http-gyu @my-loves-my-life @yeonjunnie @wooyoungjpg @wowie-hockey @ren-junwrld @hongjoongs-patience @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @marsstarxhwa @asjkdk @northerngalxy

enjoyed? i would love to hear from you, it means the universe to me. thank you.

[mansbutchery]

PALESTINIAN FAMILY HAVING TO START OVER.

@ahedalshaer is a 22-year-old dentistry student who was in her fourth year studying at Al-Azhar University in Ghazza, she was working hard to achieve her goal to become a dentist before the occupation came and halted her from furthering her education in peace.

This campaign is supporting seven people, Ahed, her parents and her siblings. Ahed’s campaign was at 9% of their goal but she unfortunately had to close down her previous campaign due to the person managing it scamming her and her family and running off with the money. They’re back at square one and they are EXTREMELY low on donations right now, the most recent donation was just a day ago, this family desperately needs you to help them survive.

Ahed’s parents are both ill. Her father is diabetic, and her mother is suffering from chest infections and due to the targeted bombing on hospitals they literally cannot get access to the healthcare they need right now. With how expensive everything is in Ghazza we have no idea how long they can go on for. They have to live in a tent with disease ridden insects and the tent barely protects them from the scorching heat that makes them feel like they’re being cooked alive and the approaching winter.

All this family wants is to return to a peaceful life and evacuate to a safer place, please do anything you can to support them whether that be by donating, reblogging or making a post of your own, it could help a ton!! It doesn’t matter how little your donation is because it WILL have an impact, it could help them buy food for the day or help them purchase heavier clothing and blankets for the winter, it could help them evacuate.

she's been verified,

here , number 407 in this spreadsheet here , this post was made when Ahed still had her previous campaign but she was verified by them.

tagging for reach since i dont have a large platform.

@momxijinping @slitherbop @beebfreeb @starrysharks @stuckinapril

@a-shade-of-blue @khanger @skipppppy @rottin6 @esroniets

@omegaversereloaded @prisonhannibal @littlegermanboy @schoolhater @heritageposts

@killy @they-bite @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @determinate-negation @wizardarchetypes

@pikslasrce @stil-lindigo @fairuzfan @thedigitalbard @vilecrocodile

@paper-mario-wiki @rethrone @ibtisams @tliersgender @furiousfinnstan

@mobiused @buttercuparry @paparoach @maoistyuri @mazzikah

@fly-sky-high-09 @lesbianmaxevans @turian @deepspaceboytoy @flouryhedgehog

[bunny-1111]

Wooooo Theo requests are opennnnnn

Could we have some jealous Theo pls?

Ofc you can... jealous Theo, here we go.

Word count: 1.8k

warning: swearing, aggressive behaviour, sexual innuendo

unread or edited

likes, comments and reblogs highly appreciated <3

...

It was unusual for you to intentionally piss Theo off, yes, you loved to tease him from time to time, but Theodore Nott has always been a hot-headed assassin if you push him far enough.

That brings you to today, more specifically, one hour and three minutes ago, when Professor Snape entrusted your class to choose partners for an upcoming assignment.

Of course, as usual, you had made your way to Theo to get started. To your complete surprise, your teddy was already settled and started with none other than Daphne Greengrass.

The problem with Greengrass was that she and Theodore were both house Prefects together, and their corridor patrol had already been a tense conversation topic during your last argument.

She kept him from you. Yes, it was mandatory, but respecting your girlfriend's boundaries should also be compulsory, you recall stating. He kissed your forehead and muttered something about you being overdramatic.

So you suck your teeth and tap him on the shoulder, his body turning to you with such imperturbable composure that it was almost as if you were interrupting.

"Work together?" you smiled, your lips too tight

His hand had gestured back to Daphne. "I can't, Greengrass bet you to it, darling", he explained, letting out an almost nervous chuckle.

You took a moment to scan the scene; we're playing this game, sure, game on.

"Really?" You questioned, your voice a little higher than usual, only to be met with a nod, so you smiled once more before leaving him with a quick peck on his cheek.

That brings you to now, watching them from a distance, the quill in your hand threatening to snap from the grip you held.

"Oh, come on, working with me can't be that bad, can it?" Lorenzo joked, gently insinuating to let go of your death grip before ink exploded everywhere

"No Enzo, it's not, just plotting for murder" you sigh, nudging your head in Theo's direction

"don't go all dark on us common folk, kid" he laughed

"Oh, I'm not. The rest of you are safe... for now," you joke back

"But seriously, Enz" you continue, throwing your hand in their direction.

"Yeah, well, I'd say bring it up tonight, but your boy's got patrol tonight too. He told us he can't come for a late-night fly, you see," rambled Enzo, now joining your stare towards Theo and Daphne.

"He does?" you beam

"He does." Enzo states

You nod as your face reflects a plan coming into your mind, a taste of his own medicine

"Oh no, I don't like that look." warns Enzo

"I don't know what you're referring to?" you practically sing

"What's more, I don't like that tone in you're the voice," he says, moving slightly away from you.

"Have I ever told you how much I appreciate our friendship, Enz?" You almost pout

"Nope, no, don't start this", he complains

"How about for two hundred galleons?" you pry

"Ok, what're we doing" he smiles.

By the time dinner rolled around, you had made an undeniable choice not to sit next to Theodore. Instead, you nestled between Blaise and Lorenzo, moving in closer to Enzo than comfortable. Laughing a little too loud at his jokes, holding eye contact for a second too long.

You observed Theo's demeanour across from you. His fork clattered against his plate, his appetite visibly waning. Across the table, his dark eyes narrowed, flicking between you and Lorenzo.

It was working, and you would finish with a bang.

When Lorenzo reached out of his pocket a small piece of parchment and passed it into your hand without shame. Taking the paper you open it, smile and nod his way.

By instinct, Theodore's hand shot over the table to examine the note for himself, but you were a step ahead, moving it just out of his reach, before shoving it in your own pocket.

"Passing notes to your best friend, girl, huh, Enz?" Theos tone ice cold

"For our assignment in Snape's class, ain't that right?" Enzo smiled playfully, knocking his shoulder into your own

"Right, Snapes class" you reply

"ah shit, I slept in this morning. Who'd I get paired up with?" complained Mattheo

"Don't stress, Riddle. We get to pick; it's whoever you'd like," you explain, your eyes not leaving a now agitated Theo.

By the end of dinner, you’d had enough fun—almost. As you stood to leave, Theo caught your arm.

“Come by tonight?” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

You smiled,  sharp. “I can’t, things to do. You’ve got patrol, remember? Have fun.” turning on your heels, leaving him strained.

Theodore almost constantly got his way, but this, this had to be dealt with; what the fuck was your problem and what the fuck were you up to.

Late into the night, Theodore walked cooly through the dungeons, Daphne beside him; as they walked, Daphne rambled on about Merlin knows, but Theodore didn't hear a word. He heard quick, shuffled footsteps around the corner; assuming it was some trouble-making third years, he quickened his pace.

As he approaches closer, he finally spots a shadow, as he squints his eyes he thinks he can make the shape out to be a girl

"Hey, stop right there!" he calls out, his voice echoing back in the quite of the night

Turning around you prepare to shrug your shoulders or run, depending on his reaction

"Alright, caught me fair and square, Officer Nott," you say mockingly holding your hands up

"Baby? The fuck are you doing, do you know what time it is?" he rushes brows furrowed, hand reaching for your face, he almost feels the need to examine you for injury, you're never out this late.

"I'm just fine, you won't write me up for this, will you," you grin taking a step away from him "Hi Daphne," you say as she comes around the corner

Before Theodore could reply or get an answer from you loud footsteps are heard again, this time not coming from you

"Are you with someone" he spills out, his voice sharp, accusatory

Opening your mouth to answer, before you could get a word out Lorenzo appears from the corner behind you

"You ready?" Enzo calls out to you then turns to Theo. "Hey mate, patrol kicking your ass or what?" he laughs walking to your side

"No, but I'll be kicking your ass if you don't explain to me why the fuck you're meeting my girlfriend at half past one in the morning?" Theo practically growled

"We're going to the astronomy tower, if you'll excuse us" you explain brows raised, attempting to walk off with Enzo, before Lornezo and yourself could walk all but four steps, Theos extending his rough hand to Enzos chest, halting any movenmt

"I don't think so, Daphne if you wouldn't mind walking Mr Berkshire here to his dorm, make sure he gets to bed" Theo demands, stalking closer. "I'll handle trouble of here myself" His eyes darkening as his hand finds your back immediately ushering you away before Daphne can even agree.

Theodore took you down a long hallway, out of sight before pressing you against a wall "The fuck kind of game are you playing with me, you think this shits gonna slide with me?" he mumbles as his hand slides up the wall behind you

"I was just seeing a friend, we were gonna work on Snapes project" you protest

"Yeah not on my fucking watch you're not" his voice now raised

"We're trying to sleep here!" A portrait from above calls out

"See don't want to upset the paintings now do we, I'll be going" you smile foot in front of the other, before you feel a pull forcing you back in your place, Theodore fingers gripping you by the loop of your jeans

"you got a real knack for pissing me off, y'know that," he says, his lips inches away from yours, his voice low

"feelings mutual, Nott" you mutter

Before you can protest anymore, his lips come crashing down onto yours, heavy, rough, possessive. You try to wrap your arms around him only to be met with his hands tight-gripped on each side of your hips, like he is trying to anchor himself. He was literally putting you in your place as his lips left yours too quickly

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged.

"Let me make something clear, try to get it through your thick, fucking, skull", he spat, his finger gently digging into your temple

"I'm not spending tonight with Greengrass by choice alright, I know why your doing this shit, you have nothing to worry about, don't give me a damn reason to question you" he rants

"I-" you interject

"No, I'm talking." he interrupts

"I don't share whats mine, you're mine" he continues his tone so sharp, it wasn't up for question, all you could do was nod

"So now you're gonna say sorry, Theodore and then we're gonna go to my dorm, so when you get to Snapes class tomorrow, you'll be limping" he orders

"I'm sorry" you say almost too quickly hoping the two words would be enough to get you to his dorm as soon as possible

"Good girl, I'm sorry too, for not making things with Daphne clearer, we belong to each other you and me" he says as his hand rubs up and down your arm

You nod once again in agreement

"Now what the fuck to do about Enzo" he laughs, cracking his knuckles as if to prepare

"No! I paid him to do this, I knew you'd be on shift, I knew you'd catch us" you ramble out

The confession makes Theo stop dead in his tracks

"You what?"

"I didn't know what else to do" you admit

"How much did he take?" he almost smiles

"300" you mutter

"that cheap git" he spits out

"Alright" he mutters picking you up throwing you over his shoulder

"Hey!" you yelp out

"Shut it!" a portrait from above called out

Ignoring the crowd above completely, Theo picks up his pace. "So this time, you can't run away", he says, tightening his grip on your thigh.

Let's just say the next morning in Snape's class, partners were swapped very quickly, Theodore insisting Lorenzo and Daphne were stationed on the opposite side of class; coincidence? Highly unlikely.

woohoo jealous teddy put me in my place next

[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 physical eyes are long gone, empty sockets 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∷

[rafedarling]

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞

pairing: major!drew starkey x nurse!reader

summary: it’s 1944, and the world is engulfed in the turmoil of wwii. on a remote air force base, major drew starkey prepares for a perilous mission, while you, a shy and introverted young nurse, watches from afar, your heart caught between admiration and fear. you has never been one to express your feelings openly, but as drew faces an uncertain future in the skies, you gathers the courage to write your first letter to a man—a heartfelt confession of love. before he departs, you quietly hands him the letter, never knowing how it will change you both.

warning(s): english is not my native language. contains emotional themes set during ww2, themes of war and separation, mild language and teasing from fellow soldiers.

au: like, reblog, comment and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @stuffyownswrld @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxoblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @littlelamy

part ii - part iii - …

You, as a nurse stationed at the airbase, you were accustomed to keeping your head down, doing your work with precision and care, never drawing attention to yourself. You’d been stationed here for months, yet it still felt like you didn’t belong in the whirl of action around you.

But there was one person whose presence never failed to draw your gaze, no matter how much you tried to remain invisible.

Major Drew Starkey.

To everyone else, he was a leader—a seasoned officer whose calm authority and unwavering composure made him stand out among the others. He was the kind of man who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet always found a way to offer a smile to those who needed it. His tall frame, sharp features, and focused blue eyes made him a figure of admiration and respect, and you were no exception.

But to you, he was more than just a Major in the Air Force.

He was Major Drew—the man whose voice sent a flutter through your chest whenever he spoke, even if it was just to ask about a patient’s condition. The man whose steady hands and quiet courage filled you with a sense of safety in a world torn apart by war. For months, you had admired him from a distance, your heart skipping a beat every time he passed by. You would catch glimpses of him during routine check-ups or briefings, his brow furrowed in concentration, his posture always strong and sure. You never allowed yourself to imagine more than a fleeting glance or polite exchange; he was an officer, after all, and you were just a nurse.

But as time went by, as each mission became more perilous and the losses more profound, something began to shift within you. The thought of him flying off into the unknown without knowing how much he meant to you gnawed at your heart. Every time he left on a mission, the knot in your stomach tightened, fearing he might not return.

And then, one evening, as the sun dipped low the base was sinking in soft amber light, you made a decision. It was impulsive and terrifying, but the fear of regret outweighed your shyness. You had to let him know, even if only once, even if he never read the words.

You decided to write him a letter.

Sitting in your small quarters, surrounded by the muffled sounds of soldiers laughing and planes preparing for takeoff, you hesitated, the pen hovering over the paper. How do you write to a man like Major Drew? What words could possibly capture the depth of what you felt, the quiet admiration that had grown into something so much more?

But you had to try. You had to be brave, even if just for one fleeting moment.

Dear Major Drew Starkey, I do not know where to begin, nor how to put into words what my heart has long wanted to say. Perhaps it is foolish of me to write to you like this, but the uncertainty of tomorrow compels me to be braver than I’ve ever been before. I know you are a man of duty, a man of courage, and that your mind is always focused on the task at hand. But I wonder if, in the quiet hours when you are alone, your thoughts drift as mine do—to those you hold dear, to the things that make this war worth fighting. I think of you often, more than I should. More than I’ve ever thought of anyone. It’s strange to admit it, even to myself, but in the stillness of the night, when the world around us is consumed by chaos, it is your face I see. Your voice I hear. It is your strength that makes me feel safe, even when everything else is falling apart. I have never written a letter like this before, and I confess I am terrified of how you will receive it. But I cannot go another day without letting you know how deeply I care for you, how much I admire the man you are—not just the officer, but the man who carries so much on his shoulders without complaint. I will not ask anything of you. I do not expect you to respond. All I ask is that you take these words with you, wherever you go, and know that someone here thinks of you every day. That someone prays for your safe return, not because it is your duty to return, but because you are cared for—because I care for you. If fate allows, I hope that one day we may speak of these things in person. But until then, please know that my thoughts are with you always. Yours, in heart and in hope, Y/N”

You read and reread the letter until the words blurred before your eyes, but the feeling behind them remained steady. With trembling hands, you folded the letter neatly and slipped it into a plain envelope. You stared at it for what felt like hours, your heart pounding in your chest as if it might burst. Could you really give this to him? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he laughed at you, or worse—what if he never even opened it?

But there was no turning back now. You had written the letter, and you had to deliver it.

The opportunity came sooner than you expected. The next morning, just before dawn, the base was a flurry of activity. Major Drew was preparing for another mission—this one longer and more dangerous than the others. The soldiers were gearing up, checking their equipment, and sharing quiet conversations before the inevitable parting. You watched from the infirmary window, your heart heavy with the weight of the letter tucked inside your apron pocket.

You took a deep breath and forced your feet to move. As you made your way toward the runway, the early morning light casting long shadows over the ground, you spotted him. He stood by his plane, speaking to a group of officers, his back to you.

You almost turned around.

But then, as if sensing your presence, Major Drew glanced over his shoulder and saw you. His expression softened, his blue eyes locking onto yours in a way that made your heart stutter. Without thinking, you hurried toward him, clutching the letter so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“Major Starkey,” you called out, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engines. His gaze shifted to you fully, and he stepped away from the group, his tall figure moving toward you with a calm, confident stride.

“Y/N,” he greeted, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “What brings you out here? Everything alright?”

You nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you fumbled for the words. “I—I just wanted to give you this,” you stammered, thrusting the envelope toward him before you could lose your nerve.

He glanced down at the envelope, then back at you, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What’s this?” he asked softly, though there was no pressure in his voice, no demand—only a gentle interest.

“It’s just…” Your voice faltered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “It’s something I wanted you to have before you leave.”

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze around you. The sounds of the base faded, the distant voices of soldiers and the rumble of engines becoming nothing more than background noise. It was just the two of you, standing there in the early morning light, the air thick with unspoken words.

Major Drew took the envelope from your trembling hands, his fingers brushing yours in a way that sent a jolt of warmth through your body. He held your gaze for a long moment, as if trying to read the meaning behind your sudden act of courage.

“I’ll read it when I get back,” he promised, his voice low and steady, filled with an understanding that made your heart ache. He smiled at you, that rare, gentle smile that always made the world feel just a little bit brighter. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. And then, before you could embarrass yourself further, you turned and hurried away, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of what you had just done settled over you.

Hours later, the base had fallen into an uneasy quiet. The planes were gone, the soldiers off on their mission, and you were left in the stillness of the infirmary, going through the motions of your duties while your mind raced with a thousand thoughts.

Would he read the letter? Would he think you were foolish for writing it? Would he even come back?

Night fell, and with it came the familiar sounds of planes returning to base. You didn’t rush to the runway this time, too afraid of what you might or might not see. Instead, you stayed in the infirmary, tending to your work, your heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

Meanwhile, in the soldiers’ quarters, Major Drew sat among his fellow officers, exhausted but relieved to have returned safely. The men around him joked and teased, trying to shake off the tension of the mission with laughter and camaraderie. But Drew’s mind wasn’t with them.

He reached into his jacket pocket, feeling the soft edges of the envelope you had given him. His comrades noticed the movement and, ever the opportunists, one of them nudged him with a sly grin.

“Hey, Starkey,” one of the soldiers teased. “What’s that you’ve got there? A love letter from a secret admirer?”

The others joined in, their voices filled with playful banter.

“Don’t keep it to yourself, Major! Let’s hear what your girl’s got to say!”

Drew rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not for you lot,” he muttered, standing up and stepping away from the group. He could still hear their laughter behind him, but it was distant now, fading into the background as he found a quiet corner and opened the letter.

As he unfolded the paper, the world seemed to slow, your delicate handwriting coming into view. He read your words carefully, the weight of your confession settling over him like a warm blanket. The teasing from his comrades faded into nothing, replaced by the quiet vulnerability of your letter.

For a long moment, he simply sat there, the letter clutched in his hands, a strange mix of emotions washing over him. He hadn’t expected this—not from you, not from someone so quiet and reserved. But as he read and reread your words, something stirred in him, something deep and unspoken that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

When he finally folded the letter and tucked it safely back into his jacket, his heart felt lighter, as if the weight of the world had lifted just slightly. The war still raged on, the uncertainty of tomorrow still loomed, but in that moment, your words gave him something he hadn’t realized he needed.

Hope.

He smiled to himself, standing up and returning to his comrades, their teasing starting up again the moment he rejoined them. “So, Starkey,” one of them called out, grinning from ear to ear. “Your mystery girl leave you love-struck?”

Drew chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Something like that,” he replied, his voice low, as if sharing a secret only he knew. Because that’s what it was—your letter was a secret, a treasure he would carry with him wherever the war took him next.

No matter what Drew knew one thing for certain: he would come back.

For you.

For the promise of something more.

[ms-demeanor]

making my own post because nobody needs my bullshit on their post:

OP:

Reblog 1:

Reblog 2:

My response:

The IRA blogs were here and they were active and they were quite popular; their posting patterns did not match normal tumblr users (i was followed by lagonegirl and followed back only to be put off by the account reblogging the same five or ten posts every hour for a day before selecting another five or ten posts to reblog hourly the next day - it was clear engagement bait).

Tumblr has never been as transparent about these accounts as both Twitter and Facebook were, but several of the accounts had shared names across platforms and you can find a significant amount of data that was released by both facebook (ex: ads purchased by the IRA accounts) and twitter (over three million tweets from IRA accounts). Academic researchers have published papers on the data released from facebook and twitter. Several papers. So many papers. Soooooo many papers. We have a LOT of direct evidence that you can explore for yourself that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) of IRA accounts that were created on Facebook and Twitter. Of those accounts, some shared usernames across platforms, and of those accounts, a few had tumblr accounts that posted the same content on twitter and tumblr.

To quote a buzzfeed news article from the time:

The Russian-run Tumblr accounts used the same, or very similar, usernames as the account names contained on a list of confirmed IRA accounts Twitter submitted to congressional investigators. In some cases, the Tumblr and Twitter account has the same profile image or linked to each other in their bios. Some IRA Tumblrs and Twitter accounts also cross-promoted content between platforms, further linking them together.

Current tumblr user @ alwaysbewoke (who I don't want to tag because I'm sure he's got better things to do) is interviewed in that article and talks about following one of the blogs identified by tumblr as an IRA blog that had a matching account on twitter identified as an IRA account but unfollowing when the left-leaning blog supposedly run by a black creator started rooting for trump in the election.

Dr. Jonathan Albright is heavily quoted in the article; the data review he collaborated on is one of the only reviews of this subject that includes data from Tumblr and Reddit.

One of the claims that I've seen is that tumblr just deleted funny black people, but these were blogs with thousands of followers on tumblr who never recreated, never popped up on another social media site, never started a reddit account after getting banned; nobody ever showed up saying "hey this is 4mysquad, I got banned on tumblr and twitter, follow me to pillowfort". These very popular blogs got deleted and, as far as I know, nobody ever popped up claiming to be a person who was deleted - and it's not like tumblr users haven't figured out how to evade bans.

What you are doing when you make posts saying that the IRA accounts on tumblr never existed is *absolving tumblr of guilt for their utter lack of transparency.*

Tumblr is not the only tech company that has tried to fly under the radar as its larger counterparts face regular scrutiny in Congress and in the press. Earlier this month, Reddit revealed it too had deleted hundreds of accounts with ties to the Internet Research Agency. A WIRED investigation found more than a thousand links to Russian propaganda websites are still live on Reddit, and unearthed two suspicious accounts that Reddit immediately shut down.

So should you believe what Tumblr says? No, because Tumblr has been functionally fucking silent on this issue and the information about this subject aside from the list of blogs has come from the hard work of data scientists, journalists, and researchers.

(For the record; some of those bot accounts that were recorded by Dr. Albright also had Google+ accounts in 2017 - there is every possibility that they had myspace accounts).

Now, the reason that I'm popping onto this post as an annoyed anarchist is that I was tracking a similar group of blogs for a while and was discussing them and I stopped precisely because of the galaxy-brained liberals who are now trying to dunk on communists for criticizing electoralism. One of the people who was following my project was one of the ones who started calling out the "joe biden kills dogs" posts as disinfo and I realized they were using some of the guidelines I'd written up to "identify" misinformation and that is very a rock fucking stupid approach to what was clearly a leftist making jokes and was horrified and realized there was no way that I could continue documenting what I was documenting without someone attempting to call actual leftists russian bots.

I've seen the post that OP is referencing [it's one where someone makes a very obvious joke about the democrat presidential ticket and people jump on to call them a bot and then someone tries to do the "AI tell me a story" thing and OP is just like "I don't want to :(", proving that they are in fact a person and not an AI] and have deeply enjoyed the humor of watching liberals a) not understand a very, VERY obvious joke and b) become the unwitting butt of a joke they were trying to make, but also I am so exhausted by watching normie dems call leftists AI bots after years of watching normie dems call real live actual leftists who hold actual political views that real people actually have, like prison abolition, russian bots.

But I am also so fucking tired of left conspiracism and how stupid it sounds when leftists dismiss a preponderance of evidence that is easily accessible and publicly available for analysis as "lol so you just trust everything tumblr tells you?"

No, dipshit, learn to click a fucking link or twelve.

[roturo]

PEACHES - gojo satoru x f!reader.

→ summary: working was always boring for Gojo Satoru, just some boring paperwork, unread emails, and meetings every-day. but his new assistant made his world turn around and make it as sweet as peaches.

→ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, possesive behavior, teasing, breeding kink, use of nicknames (sweetheart, love, baby....), fluff, playboy!gojo, got the idea and wrote this watching the office, not proof read, office!au, boss!gojo satoru, assistant!reader.

TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK. THANK YOU. ENJOY. SMUT BELOW THE CUT.

New day at the office, a new chance to annoy Nanami.

That's what Gojo Satoru would tell himself everytime he has to go to work. Nothing interesting usually happens there, same old office, boring paper work, and employees to annoy.

Because he wouldn't be working on this office if he wasn't obviously the boss.

Recently he fired the old assistant, some boring and old lady which couldn't even pass the call to him. A 'gift' from the old boss. But guess what? He's the new boss right now.

Your curriculum seemed pretty nice, a young lady, with not much experience which that's a job for him to build, single, not that it matters, and today, actually was your first day.

The office seemed pretty nice, clean, minimal, and the people seemed... nice.

Your desk was pretty long, a computer in the middle of it, some folders, which you suppose is the paper work left undone, office phone and some paper with the numbers to use when sending the call to your new work-mates.

After introducing yourself to everyone, you took a sit. You didn't quite well knew what to do, until the main door opened up, and you saw his black small circular eyes, a small glimpse of really blue eyes, his hair white as snow, he seemed like a really young man, probably two-three years older than you.

¨Oh, nice, you're already here. I'm Gojo Satoru, your new boss.¨

Your legs suddenly reacted and made you stand up from your chair, not even realizing you're now standing infront of him, his presence making you feel small, not only because of his height and broad shoulders, he had this aura of dominance, of a leader. No wonder why he's the boss.

You bowed at him and said your name, trying your best to not seem nervous or like your feeling your voice will crack at any moment. ¨Nice meeting you Mr.Gojo, i'll try my best, i'm sure you'll not be disappointed by choosing me!¨ Half of it you said it on your bow, really fast. Which made Satoru laugh.

¨Satoru love, call me Satoru. I'm pretty sure we're almost the same age, i'm pretty young to be called mister by such a pretty young lady like you for my taste.¨

You nervously giggled, and bowed again, feeling your face hot from embarrassment all you could do was look at the floor and wait for your first work to do.

And to say your boss wouldn't make you work, is a lie.

For the first hour or so, things went pretty fast and rough. You took notes, answered emails, and organized his schedule, all while trying not to make any mistakes. Someway the emails wouldn't stop coming, notes which you were pretty sure were his, but you couldn't dispute your new boss on your first day.

But as the day went on, you couldn't help but notice the way Satoru kept stealing glances at you. At first, you assumed it was just your imagination, but when days started passing, small glances turned into keeping eye contact with a shy smile with him, weeks passed and flirty comments started flying around the two of you, inside jokes, coffees by the morning after knowing his usual take, small accidental touches into giggles and shy apologies.

And to be honest, Satoru put you through so much work not only because he's lazy to do it by himself, but because he loves seeing you running around the office with your small skirts, he loves seeing you flustered by his compliments, loves having your submission.

Two months passed and he started inviting you to dinner after work, maybe some coffee on the weekends here and there, but he was falling for you. You might fell for him first, but he fell harder. But he couldn't let himself admit that.

Something that makes Gojo Satoru the Gojo Satoru is that he's a fucking playboy, can't stay with a girl for more than two weeks, it gets two the point where Nanami and Suguru bet on how much time the new chick will last. But... they didn't know about you! and the secret little dates he took you on, and the little pecks you have him on the cheek that made his heart beat faster and his trousers tighter.

He tried, really tried to forget those silly feelings you put him through, going to bars and finding a new fuck every night, but he knew he had to have you the moment he moaned your name while coming in a random girl mouth.

So that was enough playing around.

But he couldn't just go to your desk, and fuck you there in front of everyone. Which... didn't sound too bad when he's now thinking about it, maybe someday he'll try it with you, but first he had to have you in the nice way.

Leaving roses on your desk every-morning was a cute detail, but he thinks it wasn't enough, why? well because they still seem like doubting about if he's interested in yo or not.

¨Satoru, are you sure you're not in denial?...¨ Suguru asked him, knowing his best-friend like his right hand.

¨I'm not in denial Geto.¨ When Satoru uses his last-name instead of his first name like normal friends do, he knows he's lying, a good way to tell, but not like he's going to tell him.

¨So... I guess you wouldn't mind if I ask her out on a date right?¨

¨Fuck off Suguru.¨

His fantasies about you turned from sweet dreams into waking up at 3 A.M with wet boxers and in need of a jack off. So, now, he had enough.

You were nervous, to say at least. Today all Satoru did was treating you with coldness. Did you do something wrongs? His coffee wasn't sweet enough? And you were even more nervous when at the end of the day he called you to his office and stay for a while.

¨Yes Mr.Gojo?¨

He laughed, ¨How many times have I told you to just call me Satoru sweetheart?¨ he tooks his glasses off, it wasn't the first time you saw him without them, but every-time you looked at those eyes again, it felt like the first time.

¨I'm sorry Mr-... Satoru... Is everything okay? Why am I here?¨

He took a step closer, someway you stayed in your place, slow breathing each step he got closer the more you were anticipating his next move. ¨You don't really see it sweetheart, don't you?¨

¨See wh- mmph~!¨ the rule was broken with the moment of realization there was no coming back after this, had this kiss become even more frantic. You felt giddy kissing Satoru and his sweet lips, this moment was like a dream.

His armed wrapped around your waist, and your naturally wrapped around his neck, his hands went lower and lower until he smacked your ass which made you moaned at the sensation. Your hands sliding down his chest.

You giggled at the sudden action. "I was going to say it hurt, but I actually liked it." which made Satoru's grin even bigger, his cock was hurting by this moment, so many nights thinking about you and he is finally in the moment.

His hands stayed on your arms, kisses now turning into bruises in your neck, moans in to whines. "I want to kiss every inch of you." He mumbled on your neck, while grabbing your thighs and carrying you to sit on his desk.

Unbuttoning your shirt, while maintaining eye contact, his hands caressing every inch of your exposed body, he took your bra off and started sucking on one of your nipples, using his other hand to tease the other, by pinching it with his index and thumb. Switching to the other nipple, making sure both of them would be purple by tomorrow.

His hand sliding down until he got into your thighs, making it's way down your skirt, using his fingers to feel the wetness on your panties, "Look at that. Wet for me already and I've barely done anything." you could hear the sound of him unbuckling his pants, while he was getting naked, you made sure to take off the remaining pieces of yours.

His cock was large. A pretty shade of pink, veins coming down from the tip to his base. Red and needy tip already leaking pre-cum, looking for attention. He positioned himself, sliding his cock up and down between your lips thanks to your wetness. Each time touching your needy clit, making you moan. ¨S...Satoru... stop teasing! a-ah!~¨

“I can’t help myself, you’re just too fun to tease~” You moaned at the sudden intrusion, a small feeling of pain came through your body while adapting to his size. ¨Too.. big 'toru- just too much...¨

He chuckled at how cute you looked trying to fit him. Your tight hole squeezing his cock had him rolling his eyes. ¨You can take it baby, 'm sure you can.¨ He gave you a small peck on your lips, before slowly thrusthing.

¨You f...feel soooo good' sweetheart. Made for me. This pussy was made for me.¨ His thrusts started becoming faster every-time you moaned even louder, tears started filling your eyes, coming down one by one.

¨Make me. nngh! make me yours 'toru.¨

¨You want it princess?, you want my babies? Make you a such and good mommy?¨ Your moans started becoming erratic, way too much for your body. His hands would be buried on your hips by tomorrow.

You felt yourself getting dizzier every-time he hit that spot that made you see stars. ¨You would be such a pretty mommy, all round and full of me. I'll make sure you get pregnant, fucking you everyday...¨

You couldn't take it anymore, his dirty talk made you cum like no other. But he didn't stop, it made him eager to fuck you more. One of his hands positioned in your neck, choking you the right way to make you giddy.

His groans and whines searching for release made you looking for it too. The overstimulation becoming so much for your body. With some more thrusts both of you came at the same time. Satoru stayed a while inside of you, trying to steadying his breathing. He cleaned the both of you with a tissue and dressed you up again. He hugged your exhausted body, kissing your neck and praying how perfect you were.

¨Satoru...?¨

¨Yes sweetheart?¨

¨I get it. And I love you too.¨

[lavendarneverlands]

Thanks for the tag!😊🫶

I literally don’t even know lol this was over a decade ago🤣 & I’ve blocked out a good 75%? of my childhood👀😬 … HOWEVER here’s 5 fun/fandom ones I can recall🙃

Got REALLY into duct tape; wallets, purses, even a dress (which was epic, if I do say so myself)!

Had the best birthday party of my life; it was Harry Potter themed! We went all out: Hogwarts letter invites, house sorting & costumes, Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans guessing game & Quidditch, “HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY” cake, Sorcerer’s Stone scavenger hunt, we even taped candles to the ceiling with fishing wire (though we all got in a lot of trouble for that one😅).

Saw the Percy Jackson movie… and was severely disappointed.

Got a concussion proving a point; while I don’t recommend, I also don’t regret this one😂 A boy made a very ableist/sexist comment about being “better at sports” … one basketball to the head & going face first off a curb later … my point was made; I won & he never made that comment again (at least not in my presence)!🤣

Wore my Clawdeen Wolf coat 24/7 (weather be damned & event dress code aside; if I could, I would😂)

No pressure tags, if you want to join🩵 & welcome to all!💕@mysterylilycheeta @iwantavaldezinator @wannaberachelgrxxn

turning this into a series what did 11 year old oyu do omg

@clarissaweasley-10 @isthataraccoon @randomfandom-3