#i’m so tired. i want people on the right to realize that we’re actually all on the same side.

[gnarlymetalghost]

the republicans saw how poorly the right wing did in France and the UK and got fucking scared and now we have to deal with Trump as a martyr i’m so tired.

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part IX (act II)

Word count: 15,401 Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts (not really, Jimmy’s just a listener and doesn’t know it), strong language, internalized racism, past abuse/experimentation, dehumanization, self-hatred, kissing, mature implications (fade to black), voluntary decapitation Summary: The Double Lifers have successfully thwarted the invasion by Hels Tek, but not unscathed. Now that Tango’s been outed as Bravo’s doppelgänger, the remaining threads are starting to unravel, and Jimmy suddenly finds himself fighting to save Tango from his own inner demons. Can their love survive the fallout?

A/N: This chapter had to get split into two parts bc Tumblr sucks, here's a link to the first half if u missed it. Hope y'all enjoy, please reblog/comment if you do!

Also please don’t think too hard abt the technical portal/redstone junk. I’m throwin a lotta random terms and conditions out there in the hopes of creating a feasible explanation for how portal travel works, and how Hels differs from other worlds in that regard. It’s possible there are contradictions or other things that I didn’t fully think through, but these details aren’t really important. Just try to suspend ur disbelief. - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part IX (act II) - no tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony

~*~

“Right then. Uh, thank you all for coming on short notice.”

Grian’s tentative welcome is met with a chorus of rather subdued greetings from the Double Lifers. Everyone is gathered in a loose semicircle around spawn, standing in their respective soulbound pairs and groups. Jimmy would’ve preferred to have this conversation sitting down, inside somewhere, but Tango had insisted on spawn.

Only now does Jimmy realize that the open nature of the forest clearing at spawn is less enclosed than a room filled with fourteen people would feel, and he understands.

Tango hadn’t been very talkative on the way over. But every time he said something, it was with that same forced ‘Everything’s fine!’ kind of attitude. It’s really starting to frustrate Jimmy, making him want to grab Tango by the shoulders and shout, ‘No, actually, everything’s not fine, and that’s okay!’

But he doesn’t think that’d be well received at the moment.

Tango, standing beside Jimmy, is still maintaining his fake nonchalance. To an untrained observer, he’d actually look quite casual. Simply standing with his hands in his pockets, listening intently to Grian with a plain, but not unpleasant, expression. The only indication Jimmy has that he’s at all uncomfortable is the complete lack of movement.

He doesn’t fidget, doesn’t pace, doesn’t shift his weight- all things that might otherwise be taken as signs of anxiety, but are usually normal for Tango. The stillness, though subtle, is concerning. It means he’s tense and on-guard. As if expecting an attack at any second. Which, to be fair, Jimmy doesn’t blame him for. 

But more concerning is the fact that Tango can so easily and convincingly pretend that everything’s fine. He must’ve had a lot of practice.

(Ten years, remember?)

(Of course he’s a good liar.)

(Surprise, surprise.)

Grian clears his throat. “So, as we all know… there was an attack yesterday by some strange fellas who came in through a hacked portal of some sort. I’ve locked the world down for the moment, but until we know all the who’s, why’s, and how’s, I’m afraid that’s only a temporary solution… since I’m sure you all don’t wanna be stuck here forever.” 

He says it matter-of-factly, not a hint of any frustration, annoyance, or other ill-feeling in his voice. But Jimmy sees Tango’s face twitch anyway. Unsurprisingly, the guilt is getting to him.

“But that’s why we’re here,” Grian continues, taking a more upbeat tone. “Tango has kindly agreed to explain a little better what’s goin’ on, so hopefully, we can get to the bottom of this and uh… come up with a plan for moving forward.” He gestures invitingly towards Tango. “Tango?”

(Here we go…)

Tango clears his throat. “Right, yeah, thanks.” He takes a small step forward, casting a quick glance around the clearing. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I spawned in a world called Hels, where every player is sort of an evil counterpart to an overworld player elsewhere in the universe. At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the Helsknight fiasco.”

Jimmy can actually see the sudden realization that settles over all the present Hermits- minus Pearl, who seems as out of the loop as the others.

Grian’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, that makes so much sense…”

“Oh, dudes,” Ren breathes, running a clawed hand through his hair. “Not gonna lie, I completely forgot about that…”

“Same here,” Impulse says, looking stunned. “I mean, it was over and done with so fast, and Wels didn’t seem worried, so I guess none of us really thought to look into it? Man…”

Scott puts a hand up. “Um, what’s tha’ Helsknight fiasco?” he asks, frowning.

“Oh, right.” Tango scratches the back of his head. “So, you guys know of Welsknight, right? One of our fellow hermits?” At the group’s hesitant nods, he continues, “On Hermitcraft’s seventh world, there was this player who randomly joined and attacked Wels. None of us ever saw him, but when Wels explained the situation later… he said Helsknight was some kinda evil clone, and that he came from a place called Hels.”

Murmurs of surprise and confusion ripple through the group. Jimmy longs to put a hand on Tango’s shoulder as a reassurance, but based on how tense he is, that’d probably set him off.

“Wait, really?” Pearl asks, her antennae curling in surprise. “What’re the chances of that?”

“I know,” Cleo agrees, “it was really strange, in hindsight…”

“So this Helsknight guy,” Joel says, knitting his brows together. “He’s what Bravo was talkin’ about, one of those Hels players? Like all the other people that came through the portal?”

“Yeah,” Martyn chimes in, “I- I noticed a lot of uh, ‘Hels’ in the names in chat. Or like, ones with ‘bad’ or ‘evil’ kinda vibes.”

“Yep.” Tango nods stiffly. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t know Helsknight or- or how he joined Hermitcraft, but it was obvious he was Wels’s counterpart. I mean, he said he was ‘all the darkest parts’ of Wels, right?” He folds his arms. “Well, I’m that for Bravo. A sort of uh- a personification of his badness, I guess.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bigb cuts in, holding his hands up. “So- so you’re sayin’ that we all have these… Hels versions of ourselves?”

“Evil doppelgängers, yeah,” Tango amends. “I mean, I don’t know why it’d only be for some players and not others, and Hels is plenty big enough for every player in the universe to have a counterpart. You go to any of the major cities around spawn, and it’ll definitely feel that way.”

“What’s this… Hels world like?” Pearl asks, her red eyes wide with a sort of morbid fascination.

Tango’s expression darkens. “It’s an ancient world, infinite and deadly. The overworld and nether are fused into one crazy, messed-up realm full of these weird hybrid kinda biomes, and- and you can’t access the end. The bedrock ceiling makes it so hostile mobs spawn basically everywhere, but you can’t find naturally spawning passive mobs for like, hundreds of thousands of blocks around spawn, ‘cause the early players murdered them all. And no portal travel in or out- at least, that’s what we thought.”

Jimmy’s starting to see why Bravo described Hels as ‘an inescapable prison of horrific violence and suffering.’ 

Grian raises his eyebrows. “No end?”

“No portals?” Bdubs echoes disbelievingly.

Etho, who’s been listening with rapt attention, tilts his head. “That Bravo guy, he mentioned something about my, uh… my doppelgänger?”

Tango shrugs. “He must’ve met them at some point in the last ten years, yeah. I- I dunno, I never did.” He pauses, creasing his brows as he glances around the circle again. “Actually, I don’t think I ever met any of your guys’s Hels. Or, if I did, I don’t remember.”

That makes Jimmy frown. “What do you mean?”

Tango gives Jimmy a sidelong look. “I uh, I wasn’t really that social for most of my time there, I spent my childhood being a general menace- most kids do, actually. There’s no infrastructure to look after kids, we- they’re basically on their own. So you can imagine it’s- it’s an interesting world to grow up in.” Idly, he kicks at a clump of grass. “Bunch’a little monsters runnin’ around unsupervised, causing chaos, trying not to get brutally killed by hostile mobs and players, it was great.”

Horror seizes Jimmy. “That’s awful.”

“That’s just how it was,” Tango says bluntly. “I mean, try setting something like that up without an admin, right? See how that goes.”

“Wait, Hels doesn’t have an admin?” Grian repeats.

“Nope. At least, not when I was there.” Tango shrugs. “They hadn’t for a long time before I even spawned, so- so the whole place was basically anarchy, every player for themself.”

Aghast, Scar shakes his head. “What in the world…”

“How long did you spend living like that?” Impulse asks softly, his eyes sad.

Tango’s avoiding everyone’s eyes now, staring off somewhere into the middle distance. “Oh, probably ‘til I was like… fifteen or sixteen? Somewhere in the teen stage? That’s when I met Atlas.” A bitter smile splits across his face. “He told me he was recruiting for his redstone company, Hels Tek, and- and of course he threw in lots of cheap flattery, blah blah blah, and in my young, naive stupidity, I fell hook, line, and sinker. Turns out all he wanted me for was a blaze farm.”

There’s a brief silence.

“What?” Jimmy asks, confused. Is that what Atlas had meant about a farm design? Did they just want to force Tango to make farms for them? He knows Tango’s a bit of an innovator in that regard, but that’s an awful lot of trouble to go through for something that could easily be done by someone else.

“He… wanted you to build a blaze farm?” Impulse asks slowly, brows knitting together.

Tango laughs; a sharp, dry exhale. “No, no. Not to build one. To be one.” He reaches a hand up to tap one of the blaze rods hovering around his head. “I uh, I dunno if you guys have noticed, but these things here aren’t just for show. They’re real, functional blaze rods, and they just so happen to be respawnable.”

Jimmy’s stomach drops.

Oh.

(There we go, now they’ve got it.)

(Makes sense, right?)

(Honestly, it’s so obvious…)

The clearing is deathly silent now. All Jimmy can hear is his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Everything is clicking into place, all the strange things he’s seen and heard suddenly making perfect, horrible sense.

They used Tango as a blaze farm. An actual sentient player, reduced to nothing more than a simple mob. A player with complex thoughts and feelings, with creative ideas and passions, with hopes and fears and dreams. They locked him up like an animal to use for profit- and even now, ten years later, he still can’t fully escape from it.

Jimmy has a sinking feeling he knows what Tango’s nightmares are about.

Tango keeps talking. “They didn’t start with that, of course.” There’s a bored sort of quality to his voice, like he’s merely commentating on the weather. “There was this uhh awkward phase where I thought I was helping with redstone experiments, when actually I was the test subject.”

It’s kind of surreal, actually. To be standing here and talking about this so casually. It’s like Jimmy’s having a nightmare he can’t wake up from.

“And once I caught on, well, they uh- they didn’t exactly have to play nice anymore,” Tango laughs. “That’s where I got these fabulous accessories.” He waves a hand, cuff jangling around his wrist.

Jimmy feels sick. They put the cuffs on Tango to lock him in a farm. To think he’s still had those on him, all this time-

“After that,” Tango continues briskly, “it still took, like, another year of testing for them to develop the most optimized farm.” He delivers the information almost disinterestedly, studying his claws. “It was a pretty smart design, nice and compact.”

Jimmy glances around the clearing. Amidst the shocked, horrified faces, he finds Impulse- who seems to be focused on taking slow, deep breaths, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

(Uh oh, no Impulse to the rescue…)

“Wither roses dealt constant damage,” Tango rattles off, “triggering my blaze rods to respawn as quickly as they could be skadoodled away by hoppers, and they had regen on an automatic clock to keep me alive- though there was a backup respawn anchor for any accidents.”

Wither roses. Of course. Jimmy can picture it, in his mind’s eye; Tango chained up among the ashen flowers. What must it have felt like, to be withering all the time? His health constantly wavering between the icy blackness and the regeneration, every minute of every day. How absolutely miserable.

Jimmy somehow finds his voice again. “How… how long did you spend like that?” he asks hoarsely, stepping next to Tango.

Tango won’t look at him- though he’s carefully watching out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, I dunno… four or five months, maybe?” 

Months. Jimmy’s heart aches. He can’t even begin to imagine what that existence was like. To spend all day trapped in a farm that’s constantly hurting him- and by wither effect, no less. Not to mention how dehumanizing the entire concept is on its own.

“How’d you get out?” Jimmy asks tentatively. “If- if you don’t mind.”

Tango snorts. “Yeah, so, one day, the charge on my anchor ran out when no one was around, so I was able to kill myself to get back to world spawn. And that’s when the portal to Hermitcraft appeared.”

Etho steps forward. “I thought Hels didn’t allow portals?” he asks, his voice as cool and unreadable as his partially-concealed expression.

Jimmy’s taken aback, his feathers puffing up unwittingly. He doesn’t understand how Etho can grill Tango about technical details in such an upsetting situation. In fact, he’d almost think that Etho doesn’t care at all- except the question makes Tango pause. In his expression, Jimmy can see his mind working, and realizes what Etho has done.

By circling back to a scientific topic, he’s provided Tango a distraction. Something less personal for his mind to focus on, and take everyone else’s focus off of him. Already, Jimmy can see that Tango’s less tense as he starts to explain.

“We didn’t have portals in Hels, but we knew the concept from data-mining.” Tango spreads his hands. “Locked comm commands, hidden recipes. But portals to Hermitcraft are made by the universe, right? So- so whatever is preventing Hels players from making portals, it- the universe can circumvent it. ‘Course, at the time, I didn’t know how it appeared or where it was gonna take me, but I went through. And apparently, somehow, a portal appeared in front of Bravo that took him to Hels at the same time. The universe must’ve tried to send Bravo to Hermitcraft, glitched ‘cause of Hels’s wonky portal technology, and swapped us by mistake.”

Etho hums noncommittally. “So it was an accident.”

(Oh, sure.)

(That’s what they think…)

(Yeah, he ‘accidentally’ didn’t tell anyone the truth for ten years.)

Jimmy angrily pushes the thoughts away. So long as Tango didn’t intend to strand Bravo in Hels, that’s all that matters to him.

Tango gives Etho a funny look. “I mean, that’s not the point? Bravo’s been trapped in Hels ever since, ‘cause of me. This whole invasion thing was my fault, they were tryin’ to get me back for the farm and help Bravo escape Hels, and... I dunno, get back to his life? Or, the life I stole from him ten years ago.” He shrugs. “So yeah. Secret’s out, sorry I’ve been lying to some of you for a decade, now, and- and sorry you all got dragged into my mess. I didn’t mean t- well, anyway, that’s- that’s what happened.”

“God, Tango,” Jimmy breathes, reaching a hand out, “I- I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Tango asks incredulously, jerking away from Jimmy. “Wh- for what? That’s just what Hels is like, okay, if it wasn’t the farm it’d have been some other terrible thing, so y’know, it’s- it’s whatever.” He lets out another harsh laugh, raking his claws through his hair. “If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry, I mean, I- I’ve been lyin’ for ten years and-”

“They put you in a farm?!”

Everyone jumps. Impulse’s voice is suddenly several octaves lower, quite a bit louder, and warped with distortion into something truly demonic. His pupils have eaten up the rest of his eyes, turning them solid black. The teeth bared in a scowl look bigger and sharper than they used to, and the hands at his sides have sprouted claws. His horns and tail have grown longer, too, and Jimmy can see what looks like dark, leathery wings sprouting up behind him. His entire body is outlined by a bright golden glow, like his skin has abruptly become as hot as lava, and the absolute fury in his expression burns even fiercer.

Ah. This must be ‘full demon’ mode.

Bdubs quickly jumps in front of Impulse, grabbing him by the shoulders to ground him. Jimmy instinctively steps in front of Tango, wings snapping out to shield him from view.

But the damage is already done. Jimmy hears footsteps, and by the time he looks over his shoulder, Tango is gone.

“Tango, wait!” Jimmy turns to follow him, but a hand suddenly grabs his arm.

Martyn is there. “Don’t chase him,” he says lowly, “he’ll only panic more.”

Jimmy wants to argue, but the severity in Martyn’s solitary eye sobers him. “Alright,” he relents, folding his wings. “I… guess I’ll give him a few minutes to calm down…”

“Right, then.” Martyn gives a short nod, putting his hands on his hips. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Tell me about it,” Jimmy mutters, gazing back over the clearing.

Impulse is starting to settle back down, Bdubs in front speaking to him in low tones while Etho and Joel each hang onto an arm. It looks like his extra demon-y features are reverting back to his usual state, though he still looks furious.

Grian is sitting against a tree, wings splayed out around him. He’s massaging his temples like he’s warding off a headache, his eyes squeezed shut, groaning, “How did I not see this coming?” while Scar, crouched beside him, rubs his back soothingly.

Ren is pacing back and forth across the clearing. “I should’a killed more of those guys,” he growls, tail lashing, ears pinned flat against his skull.

“Hey, you did all you could,” Bigb says comfortingly. “I was the one that got us killed. If I’d kept my shield up, he wouldn’t have gotten that shot on me.”

“I wish we’d realized that Atlas guy was in charge,” Martyn laments, crossing over to them. “If we’d stopped him from leaving, we could’a gotten a lot more information.”

“I wish we’d known Tango was dealing with all this,” Cleo says bitterly, her crossed arms resting on her knees, Scott leaned against their side. “I mean, honestly… ten years and we never knew? That’s- that’s- that’s rubbish. We’re rubbish friends.”

“Hey, hey now,” Jimmy says, lifting his voice to address the group, “this wasn’t anyone’s fault, okay? You guys have been great friends to Tango- otherwise, he wouldn’t have stuck around for so long, right? It’s- it’s just his way, to try and deal with things on his own without askin’ for help. You know that.”

Cleo exhales slowly. “Yeah, I know. Still sucks.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy glances over at Impulse, who seems to have recovered himself back to normal, sitting cross-legged next to Bdubs. “You alright, Impulse?”

Impulse gives a slight nod, expression guilty. “I’m sorry. I- I almost never lose control like that, I just got so angry… not at Tango!” he quickly clarifies. “Never at him. I- I just… thinking about what they did to him, everything he went through…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Bdubs murmurs, squeezing Impulse’s hand. “That’s- it’s freaking crazy, right? With th- hyaugh, evil Hels world, puttin’ people in uh, in farms… sheesh.”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Jimmy assures him. “I know you didn’t mean anythin’ by it. I’m sure Tango does, too, he was just so on-guard the whole time… he just got spooked, that’s all.”

“Jimmy,” Pearl says urgently, fluttering over to him while tailed by her small pack of wolves, “d’you know- uh, is- is everythin’ Tango said true?” she asks, concerned.

Jimmy swallows. “It’s true. I mean, I- I didn’t know about the farm specifically, but based on what I overheard Atlas say- it makes sense.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And gosh, I didn’t know how awful Hels was, but the way Bravo talked about it…”

“But, um…” Bdubs pipes up hesitantly. “Just- just ‘cause Tango is Bravo’s… uh, Hels… doppelgänger, whatever… doesn’t mean he’s evil, right?”

“I know!” Jimmy cries, throwing his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell him! He doesn’t believe it. He thinks he’s a monster for what he did, killin’ those guys and burnin’ down the ranch.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Martyn scoffs. He’s coaxed a still-seething Ren to lay down now, absentmindedly stroking Ren’s ears as his head rests in Martyn’s lap while Bigb starts to braid his hair. “It was self-defense, yeah? A bunch of strangers invaded your home, and he defended it. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

Jimmy has a feeling it’s more to do with how Tango killed them and how the fire got started, plus the fact that Jimmy got hurt in the process. But Tango didn’t share those particular details, so Jimmy’s not about to now. Besides, in his opinion, that doesn’t change anything.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says ruefully. “But he still blames himself for what happened. For all of it.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Cleo deadpans. Then she pauses. “Or- sorry, his feelings aren’t stupid, but I- I hope he knows that none of us feel that way.”

There are exclamations of agreement and similar sentiments from the rest of the group, which helps ease some of the tightness in Jimmy’s chest. He knows his friends, and knows they’re all good people who wouldn’t judge Tango like that, but it’s been hard not to let Bravo’s words get to him.

“I’ll tell him,” Jimmy promises them. “I’ll try to make him understand, he just- I think he’s always been afraid this day would come, that he’s just been tickin’ down borrowed time.”

“What d’you mean?” Grian asks, rising to his feet. “It’s not like he knew they were coming, right?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s more like… he’s always had that possibility hanging over him.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Impulse says quietly. “The first time he saw a communicator portal open, you would’ve thought he was being sent to his death. It… makes sense, looking back now.” He puts his head in his hands, sighing. “Man, there were so many signs…”

Grian walks over, pulling his communicator out. “So hang on, the world itself is called Hels, yeah?”

“Yeah, why?” Jimmy asks.

Grian doesn’t respond, silently scanning his comm with his brows knit in concentration. And then something very strange happens. For a moment, it almost seems as if Grian’s eyes flash purple, and Jimmy hears his voice in his head.

(There it is. Hm, firewalled. Gonna be tricky.)

Then Grian pushes his glasses back up, and it passes.

“Right,” he says briskly, putting his comm away. “I can’t find the world, so the portal thing checks out. But since Tango’s cut this meeting a bit short, do you have any other information? Anything the Hels guys might’ve said or done that we should know about?”

Jimmy blinks. Grian’s just looking at him expectantly, giving no indication that there’s anything out of sorts. Jeeze, he’s used to having random thoughts, but the stress of everything must really be getting to him if he’s imagining his friend’s voices, now.

“Um, actually,” Jimmy says, “the collar they put on Tango… he said it’s using some sort of… modified wither rose to dampen his fire? It’s uh, also dampening our soulbond.” He clears his throat, glancing away. “As a- as a fun little side effect.”

“Have you tried removing it yet?” Etho asks, stepping around Impulse with his hands in his pockets.

“I did, earlier,” Impulse chimes in from the ground. “Just with my hands, but uh, he acted like it was hurting him.”

Jimmy nods. “Yeah, Atlas locked it on him with a key, and I’m pretty sure he still had it when he left. So I think that might be the way to get it off.”

“Well,” Joel cuts in, straightening up from where he’d been leaning over Impulse’s shoulder, “surely not the only way, right? I mean, you could always…” He makes a noncommittal noise, and draws a finger across his neck.

Jimmy bristles, wings flaring out. “What, decapitate my soulmate?!”

Joel holds up his hands. “Hey, hey, we don’t know if that thing’ll respawn on him!”

“His cuffs do!” Jimmy points out.

“Yeah, but isn’t it worth a shot?” Joel counters.

“I… I guess,” Jimmy relents, letting his feathers smooth back down. “But I’d rather look into a few other options before jumpin’ straight to decapitation, if you don’t mind. Tango’s been through enough as it is.”

Joel backs off. “Alright, fair enough.” 

“Okay…” Grian turns to address the rest of the group. “Well, um… this has been an interesting revelation, to say the least. I think we’re gonna have to do a bit more research to figure out how they got here before we just… open the world back up. So that means we’ll all be stuck here a bit longer, is that- is that okay with everyone?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Bdubs says vehemently.

“Yeah,” Impulse agrees, “whatever it takes.”

Further murmurs of assent ring out from among the group. Everywhere Jimmy looks, he sees faces full of sympathy and understanding, not a single trace of resentment or annoyance to be found. God, he loves his friends.

“Thanks, guys, I appreciate it,” he says gratefully. “I’m gonna go check on Tango, but we’ll keep you updated if anythin’ changes.”

“Right, okay then.” Grian claps his hands together. “Uh- I guess that’s all for now?”

Nodding, Jimmy turns and takes to the sky, leaving spawn behind him.

His mind is still reeling from all the heavy revelations, his stomach twisted up into knots, but he’s at least comforted by knowing that his friends are behind them. Seems that the fears Bravo tried to instill were completely unfounded, nothing more than vicious, desperate attempts to sow division between Tango and the others. Jimmy really shouldn’t have doubted them.

(That went… surprisingly well.)

(Give it time.)

‘Oh, shove off,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

He finds Tango back at the spare room in Impulse and Bdubs’s house.

Thank goodness for that. He hadn’t exactly been sure if Tango would consider this a safe place to go. But with the ranch destroyed and the world on lockdown, it’s not like he has a lot of options.

Tango’s sitting on the bed with his back to Jimmy. At a glance, he seems relaxed, but his legs are curled under him in a way that’d allow him to spring up in an instant. And the way his pointed ears swivel back toward Jimmy tells him Tango is quite alert.

(So deceiving…)

“Hey, Tango,” Jimmy says softly. “You alright?”

“Oh, hey.” Tango doesn’t turn around just yet, shrugging a shoulder. “Sure, yeah.”

Jimmy lingers by the bed for a moment, uncertain. “Um, Impulse didn’t mean to lose his temper like that,” he offers. “He wasn’t mad at you, he was mad at the situation, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just, in the moment- I- I- thought…” Tango sighs. “Anyway. So- so I guess I should head out, huh?”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “What? What’re you sayin’?”

“It’s over, right?” Tango asks, his voice tight, shoulders hunched by his ears. “They don’t want me around, and I don’t blame ‘em. I mean, once Grian opens the world again, it’s only a matter of time before another portal from Hels opens up. And- and who’d want to go through all that again, right? So don’t worry, I get it, it was my fault, so-”

“No, Tango, I promise- none of them blame you, alright?” Jimmy sits down on the bed- not too close. “None of them believe what Bravo was sayin’ about you. None of them think you’re some… some evil monster that deserves to be locked up in Hels.”

Tango finally turns around. His body is coiled with all the tension of a drawn arrow. “That’s ‘cause they didn’t see me- what I did- back at the ranch,” he says sharply. “They don’t know the whole story.”

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. He knew Tango would hold that against himself. “Well, I do, and I-”

“No, you don’t.”

Jimmy blinks. “Wh- oh, you mean the Helsknight thing?” he asks, furrowing his brows. “Look, honestly, based on what you told Bravo, I don’t blame you for doing that. You were just scared you’d get sent back, that doesn’t make you evil. I know you-”

“No, you don’t,” Tango says again, more intently. “You don’t know everything about me, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “Wha’d’you mean?”

Tango smiles without humor, a hard look in his eye. “You wanna know why I like making those- those crazy mob farms? Why I try to kill them in creative, fun ways?” He tilts his head. “Because I like it. I like to make their deaths entertaining. I’ll even sacrifice efficiency for it, I’ll go out of my way to do it. And I- it doesn’t stop there, I’ll kill passive mobs for no reason. Cats, frogs, things that don’t even have drops, for absolutely no reason. That’s not normal.”

Despite himself, Jimmy feels a chill run down his spine. “That’s not… those are just mobs, it’s- it’s not evil…”

(Are you sure about that?)

Tango exhales sharply- a short, bitter laugh. “Okay. You know why practically all my mini games end in death? Huh? You wanna guess?”

Distress shoots through Jimmy. “Tango-”

“I like to watch players die, too,” Tango says. “And I like it to be entertaining. I enjoy it, that’s- that’s just plain sadistic.” He rakes his claws through his hair. “That’s what I am, I’m a- a sadistic monster, okay, I always have been.”

“Stop it, don’t say that!” Jimmy protests, his heart twisting. “You’re not- people actually sign up for those games, you know. And it’s not like death is permanent, it doesn’t matter-”

“So?” Tango interrupts harshly. He jumps off the bed and starts pacing. “What- does that make any difference? Doesn’t matter if people enjoy them, okay, my- my reason for making them is wrong. Designing games is fun, sure, but I- that’s never what it’s been about. I like to make players struggle, and suffer, and die in the end. I like to watch them experience pain and fear in a trap of my own creation. I like the feeling of control it gives me. No matter how you look at it, that’s- I- I’m messed up.”

Jimmy can’t take this anymore. He rises to his feet. “Tango, stop, that’s enough,” he says, his voice stern. “I know I haven’t known you very long, but-”

“Yeah,” Tango snaps, rounding on Jimmy, “you haven’t! That’s the whole problem! I’ve kept a huge chunk of my life secret from you, my own soulmate. I’ve kept it from the Hermits, too- my friends of nearly a decade. I’ve deceived and lied to everyone I ever cared about. I’ve pretended to be this- this benevolent game maker who just wants everyone to have a good time, I’ve kept so much of who I really am hidden ‘cause I knew that if you guys ever saw the real me, you’d hate me.”

Jimmy’s mind is reeling. Tango’s clever eye for game design is something Jimmy’s always loved about him, the way he could create fun challenges even amidst the throes of a death game. After all, the first time they really interacted was when Jimmy died to his ‘Dare to Flare’ challenge back on the Third Life world. And that had been a laughably simple game compared to some of the things he’s done on Hermitcraft.

Even though it ended up costing Jimmy a life, the rush of adrenaline had been thrilling. And even though in hindsight, he knew it was a deliberate ploy by Tango to thin out his competitor’s lives, Jimmy’s never resented him for it.

So to suddenly realize there might’ve been more to it… that Tango might’ve actually enjoyed watching him burn to death- beyond the simple satisfaction of having outsmarted his competition, of course- is… unsettling, to say the least.

(What a start to a relationship!)

(The red flags have been there from day one.)

(A sadist and a liar, lucky you.)

But nevertheless, Jimmy holds his ground. “I don’t hate you.”

Tango tenses. “You should.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jimmy insists. “I love you, Tango.”

“No, you don’t!” Tango snarls, and the hurt in his voice is raw and ragged and bleeding. His eyes are burning with rage, and Jimmy’s almost certain that if it weren’t for the collar, he’d be on fire right now. “Alright? Just shut up! You love this- this version of me that I’ve presented, okay, this lie I’ve been living. You love Tango the friendly redstoner, who makes ridiculous high-pitched noises when he’s flustered and who’s funny when he’s mad and who can’t fight his way out of a one-block hole. You don’t love the sadistic blaze hybrid that sets things on fire and- and rips people’s throats out with his fucking teeth, don’t be stupid!”

The silence that follows is deafening.

(And there it is!)

(Finally showing his true colors.)

(He did try to tell you…)

For a moment, Jimmy is too stunned to speak. Tango’s never yelled at him before, not seriously, and the sting of his words is almost a physical thing.

Tango seems just as shocked at his outburst as Jimmy is, his face paling as his anger quickly extinguishes. The next words out of Tango’s mouth are almost guaranteed to be an apology, but Jimmy isn’t letting him off that easily.

“Now hang on just a second,” Jimmy says lowly. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel about you. I’m a grown player. I’m not some poor, innocent idiot that you’ve manipulated into loving you, alright? And it hurts that you’d think so little of me, that I’d stand here and just lie about my feelings to you.”

(Ooh, someone finally grew a backbone-)

Jimmy silences the thought, violently forcing it out of his mind. He’s got no patience for that sort of thing right now.

“I’m sorry,” Tango whispers, “I didn’t-”

“And what’s more,” Jimmy continues, gaining steam, “do you really think I’m the type of person to judge someone so harshly for things outta their control? You honestly think I’m some- some shallow, heartless jerk who’d turn on you, just like that? Or- for that matter, you think the Hermits would? After ten years of friendship, you have that little faith in them?”

Tango’s eyes widen. “No, no it’s- it’s not like that,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care that you’re from Hels,” Jimmy presses, taking a step forward. “I don’t care what you did in the past, or that you kept it from me. I don’t care if some random guy thinks you’re just the manifestation of all his evil- frankly, I think that says more about him than it does about you.” He comes to a stop in front of Tango. “I love you. The teeth, the claws, the death fascination or- or whatever you wanna call it- I love all of it. All of you. And I wish more than anythin’ they hadn’t got that damn collar on you, so you could feel that love through our soulbond. But you’ve felt it before, right? Before I knew? Well um, it hasn’t changed, I promise you that.”

Tango stares back up at him. Now that the anger’s gone, he just looks scared. “You don’t-” His voice breaks. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I do,” Jimmy answers, unwavering. As difficult as this conversation has been, this part’s easy. “I promise, cross my heart.”

Tango shudders, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Please,” he whispers, “don’t… I can’t- if I let myself think that but you don’t mean it, I- I can’t handle that. Please. Just tell me now, okay, get it over with…”

Understanding settles over Jimmy. Creasing his brows, he takes a slow, deliberate step forward. “I mean it,” he says, lifting a hand to cup Tango’s cheek.

Tango trembles, but he doesn’t move away. He swallows, licks his lips. “Say it again?” he asks, almost a plea, his eyes darting to take in every inch of Jimmy’s face- like he’s unsure whether he can truly believe what he’s seeing, almost searching for any hint, any trace of doubt in Jimmy’s expression.

There isn’t any. Jimmy leans in. “I love you.”

Something glimmers in Tango’s eyes; a warm light Jimmy hasn’t seen since before the ranch burned. 

Something like hope.

Love rises inside Jimmy like a wave- love and the sorrow of shared grief, the fierce determination to withstand it, and the agony of all the past suffering he can’t take away. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating, this sudden rush of emotion. A whirling maelstrom that makes his head spin. But his love burns brightly through it all, a sole lantern against the storm.

Maybe he can’t make Tango believe he’s worthy of love. But he can give it anyway.

Jimmy moves slowly, tilting his face down towards Tango’s. He keeps his eyes open until the very last second, giving Tango plenty of time to move away or say something to stop him, to give any sign at all that he isn’t feeling the same.

There isn’t any. Their lips meet gently, like a familiar greeting. Like the way sunlight falls through the window every morning.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Suddenly Tango’s kissing him back, fervently, pushing against him. Jimmy’s legs hit the bed and buckle, sending him backwards, Tango falling on top of him. His hands cling to Jimmy’s shirt, twisting in the fabric, and his tears wet Jimmy’s face, salt on his tongue. Above the pounding of his heart in his ears, he can just make out the words Tango’s murmuring between kisses, breathless and desperate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Jimmy pulls him impossibly closer, whispering, “I never doubted.”

They don’t need words after that.

~*~

“Jeeze, they weren’t kidding,” Tango mutters, taking in the ranch with wide eyes.

The ranch looks even worse than Jimmy had been imagining. Nearly the entire first floor is gone, just a wide-open plot and their lonely front door sitting ajar. Aside from the odd block here and there, it’s just empty. A couple trapdoors from the furniture in the living room. The smooth stone slabs that made up their kitchen countertops. An occasional unbroken glass pane floating where there used to be windows.

It’s not a home anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination.

Up the intact cobblestone staircase, the second floor has only fared slightly better. Some of the walls are still standing, charred and moth-eaten as they are. He thinks most of the bathroom’s interior was spared, as it was primarily made of different stone materials. Polished andesite and the like. The chests in their storage room made it, of course, even though the room itself didn’t. And their bedroom seems to have gotten the worst of it. From down here, he thinks it might just be the bed itself that’s left.

The roof is gone, leaving their cobblestone chimney awkwardly sticking up from the ground to nowhere. The path up to the house and the surrounding fields have been torn up to make a ditch. Necessary as it was, it’s quite the eyesore. And to top it all off, one of the custom trees that Scar helped build has been hastily chopped down, due to its proximity to the nearby forest. There’s just a couple of logs and solitary leaves left floating in the air.

It hurts. Everywhere Jimmy looks, there’s another source of heartache. Another precious memory that’s been turned to ash. It’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

But he’s also aware of Tango standing beside him. He knows how much Tango is already beating himself up for the fire, and the last thing he wants to do is add to that guilt.

Jimmy turns to give Tango a rueful grin. “Talk about your fixer-uppers, ey?”

Tango exhales slowly. “Man, it’s so…” He glances at Jimmy, expression pinched. “I’m sorry, you worked so hard-”

“It’s fine,” Jimmy says, shrugging. “It’s just a building.”

Tango hesitates. “It’s… alright to be upset. This was our home, and I- I got all ‘rahhhrr angry-burny rage mode’ on it and-”

“Not your fault,” Jimmy says, voice gentle but firm. He puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s the Hels fellas for attackin’ us in the first place.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise, scuffing the upturned dirt with his boot. “Sure.”

It’s clear he’s not convinced, but Jimmy leaves it there for now. Their conversation from yesterday is going to take some time to fully sink in. He crosses over to a haphazardly-placed double chest near the front of the ranch and crouches beside it, lifting the lid with a creak.

“Martyn said everything they were able to save is in this chest here, let’s see…” He rummages through the chest’s inventory. A lot of it is random junk; miscellaneous blocks, half-stacks of wheat, dropped weapons and armor from the fight. But there are a few good finds, like some of the clothes from their closet, a couple of flower pots, one of his framed embroidery pieces...

“Oh, hey, look at this!” Jimmy calls excitedly. “My gloves!”

He pulls the gloves out, looking up from the chest to see Tango standing over him. His eyes widen when he sees them- happily surprised at first, and then the familiar dawning of guilt and regret.

“You uh… maybe I should take those back, for now,” Tango says quietly, his ears lowered. “Or- or maybe just forever, yeah.”

“Ey, stop it, no take-backs,” Jimmy chastises him, slipping the gloves on. “Gloves couldn’t have prevented that fire, anyways. And I like wearin’ ‘em, because that way it’s sorta like I’m holdin’ your hand all the time.”

A grin tugs at Tango’s mouth. “Aw, that’s real cheesy, honey,” he teases, even as a faint blush colors his cheeks.

“Yeah, but I mean it,” Jimmy says loftily. “I’m keepin’ them.”

Tango holds his hands up, chuckling. “Alright, alright…” His gaze travels back towards the ranch, up towards the storage room with its rows of chests. “Guess we should still have plenty of materials to rebuild, huh?”

“Should do, yeah,” Jimmy says, straightening up. Having the gloves back is an immediate comfort, despite the fact he’d only gone two days without them. He foldings his arms, gaze sweeping critically over the remains of the ranch. “I guess for now, we’ll just focus on the structure? Y’know, get the place liveable again and worry ‘bout the decor and landscapin’ later…”

“Oh, that’s what you think!”

The loud voice makes them both jump. Jimmy whirls around to see Bdubs- of course, because there’s absolutely no mistaking that voice.

“Bdubs!” Jimmy laughs, clutching his heart. “What- what’re you doin’ here?”

Bdubs puts his hands on his hips. “I- I can’t believe what I’m- ‘no interior decor’, yeah right! You’re not gonna get outta that very- so easy! I tell you!”

Tango snickers. Luckily Bdubs’s sudden appearance hasn’t seemed to cause more than a brief startle. “Oh, yeah? You gonna help out, then, shorty?” 

“Hey!” Bdubs barks incredulously- though it’s clear from his expression he’s not really upset. “I’m tryin’ t- augh, n’you- you stu- yes. Yes, yes, I’m here to help, of course. For goodness sakes. I- how kind, are I! Sweet, kind Bdubs…”

“And handsome, too,” Jimmy adds cheekily.

That makes Bdubs beam, puffing his chest out. “Yeahhh, c’mon baby!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Tango groans.

“Oh, stop it!” Bdubs huffs. “Anyway, Impulse would’ve come, of course, but he and Etho- the redstone guys, you know, uh, they’re havin’ a- a- little chat, little brainy-thing… brainstormin’ ‘bout the portal stuff with Grian. But never thy fear! I saw you guys head out and, in my eternal wiseness, have already called in the forcements!”

Jimmy exchanges an amused look with Tango. “Well, any help is appreciated,” he amends.

“Sure about that, Timmy?” calls Joel’s voice, as the man himself appears over the hill.

And he’s not alone. Cleo’s taller figure looms over him, Scott and Pearl walking on either side of her as a small pack of wolves weave between their legs. The trio is followed by Martyn, Bigb, and Ren- the latter seeming to have recovered his friendly disposition and wagging tail. Finally, Scar emerges from behind a tree to round out the group, calling out a cheerful, “Hello there!”

Joel comes to a stop next to Bdubs and claps him on the shoulder. “We figured you two could use the help, what with you not bein’ builders and all.” Cheeky man.

Jimmy snorts. “Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically. But slights at their building skills aside, he’s actually quite touched.

Tango blinks. “You guys… all came to help out?” he asks, sounding amazed. 

“Of course!” Bdubs declares. “We ha- we help!”

Cleo shrugs, giving a hapless grin. “You know, I- I- I really don’t know… why Bdubs invited me? I’m not that great a builder. But I can supervise, I guess? And- and heckle. Always heckle.”

“And reach tha’ tall bits,” Scott offers, lightly elbowing her hip.

“And reach the tall bits,” Cleo laughs. “Right. Yes.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Martyn chimes in, slinging an arm around Bigb’s shoulders, “since that portal stuff is way over my head.”

Bdubs pulls a face. “Uh…” He speaks to Jimmy and Tango behind his hand, despite making no effort to lower his voice at all- for comedic effect. “Normally, I would’ve offered my perfect redstone prowess to uh, to help the other guys out with their little portal thing, you know, but eugh- I knew someone would have ta’ keep all these jokers in line.”

“Ah, of course,” Tango replies sagely.

“Well?” Bdubs turns expectantly to the others, throwing his arms up. “Get movin’ then! Sheesh! Stand around, waitin’ for- for no raisin…”

“Yes, my liege,” Cleo drawls, rolling their eyes.

Ren claps his big paws together. “Yeah, we’re burnin’ daylight, my dudes!”

Pearl’s fuzzy wings unfurl from beneath her red cloak. “Let’s see what we’re workin’ with!” she says excitedly, fluttering up to the storage room.

Just like that, the other Double Lifers descend on the husk of the ranch. Placing down temporary chests and crafting benches, sorting through the remaining resources, filling in the ditch with dirt. Multiple conversations start up immediately as everyone sets to a task, and the atmosphere is comfortable- even if a bit strange.

Jimmy can’t recall a time when this many of them have worked on a project together. Not on Third Life, not on Last Life, not here. Something like this just wouldn’t be possible during a death game. Large gatherings between different groups are always fraught with tension and uncertainty, by the fear of a trap or a backstab or a fight breaking out.

But it’s nice. Pearl is hovering above the second floor, working with Cleo to build the walls back up while Scott prepares some stairs and slabs for detailing. Scar and Bdubs are already bickering about how to do the landscaping while Joel grumbles at them, waist-deep in the ditch with Bigb and Martyn placing dirt. Ren’s started tearing down the damaged trees, clearing room for replanting, and Pearl’s wolves mill about, filling the air with curious sniffs and yips.

Tango’s watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, and it suddenly occurs to Jimmy that this is the most people Tango’s been around since the difficult conversation at spawn. Impulse was checking on them throughout the rest of the day, of course, and a few of the other players stopped by now and again, but not in big groups or anything.

Jimmy steps closer to Tango. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

Tango looks at him in surprise. A smile spreads across his face, and he takes Jimmy’s hand. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, it is.”

Jimmy smiles back. “Then let’s get in there.”

~*~

Jimmy lets out a low whistle. “Dang, this looks even better than before!” he says, craning his head to look around the room.

After a full day of building and the gradual dispersal of the other Double Lifers, Jimmy and Tango are now seeing their new bedroom for the first time. They were around for the bulk of the structure building, but once it came time for the interior, Bdubs and Scar had insisted it be a surprise. Everything about it is perfect, from the custom furniture to the quilted wool rug to the fancy frame Scar built around their double-wide bed.

Tango clears his throat. “Maybe, uh- maybe we can just…” He kicks one of the beds with the toe of his boot. “... scooch this over a little…”

“Nope,” Jimmy declares, sweeping Tango off the floor and onto the bed. “Nice try, mate, but you’re stayin’ right here next to me.”

“Okay, okay, fine! I ju- don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Tango huffs, but he’s grinning as he says it.

~*~

“Alright, fellas,” Grian says, clapping his hands together, “here’s what we’ve got so far…”

Jimmy leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Tango is a little tense beside him- probably just nerves. But it could be worse. They’re gathered in the living room of Impulse and Bdubs’s house; Grian perched on the arm of the sectional across from Jimmy and Tango, Impulse and Etho sitting adjacent to them. The familiar setting and fairly limited company seems to have helped put Tango more at ease for what might end up being a tricky conversation.

“We’re... pretty sure we know how the Hels peeps got here,” Grian continues, “but there are a few things we need to clarify, first.” He glances at Etho, inclining his head. “Etho, you wanna explain?”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Etho stands up. “Tango, may I see your comm, please? I uh, just need to look at it for a minute.”

Tango blinks. Anxiety flashes across his face for just a brief second before disappearing. “Oh. Uh, sure?” He pulls the item from his inventory, holding it out.

Etho takes the communicator. “So,” he begins, sitting back down, “you said that in Hels, players can’t make portals with their communicators, right?”

Tango gives a short nod. “That’s right. That comm isn’t the one I spawned with, they took that from me at Hels Tek. X made me a new one, after I got to Hermitcraft.” He gives a dry laugh. “I told him- I told him I lost it. Which, I mean, that’s- it’s technically not a lie, just... not the whole truth.”

Jimmy gives him a sympathetic look. He might no longer be worried that the others will reject him, but this still can’t be easy to talk about.

Etho studies the communicator, his mismatched eyes narrowed in concentration. “So after you got a new comm, you were able to use it to make portals?”

“Yeah,” Tango says, “it uh, it’s taken me to each Hermitcraft world and everything in between, no problem. Hubs, solo worlds, creative- you name it.”

Etho hums. “Can you use your comm to travel to Hels?”

“No.” Tango glances away. “I’ve looked for it, a few times. Never shows up.”

That brings a couple more questions to mind, but Jimmy files them away for later.

“Interesting.” Etho seems to be delving deep into the communicator’s hardware, typing rapidly. “So uh, the portal issue isn’t centered on players that spawn in Hels, just their communicators. And since overworld communicators can’t find Hels, there must be something about the world itself preventing it.”

Tango knits his brows together. “I suppose…?”

It’s at this point that Grian leans forward. “Have either of you heard about firewalls?” he asks.

Tango shakes his head, but Jimmy’s heart jolts. He has heard that word before; just the other day, when he thought he heard Grian’s voice in his head. But that’s not exactly something Jimmy wants to bring up right now. Or ever, maybe. His weird, random, intrusive thoughts don’t need to be anyone else’s problem.

“Um…” Jimmy pretends to think about it for a moment. “I think I’ve heard the term somewhere before, but I- I dunno what that actually means.”

“Right.” Grian spreads his hands. “So firewalls are a sort of added security measure that admins can use when making a new world. It’s like, an impenetrable barrier ‘round the world that makes it basically impossible for anyone unauthorized to join via portal.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, eyes widening. “What- why haven’t I heard about this? Do all worlds have these?”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “Well, firewalls are kinda outdated. Developments in server security and comm travel have basically rendered them obsolete. I mean, when’s the last time you heard of a private world being raided, besides ours?” He shrugs. “Plus, it’s a real tedious process to set one up, so they aren’t used often. Mostly for multiplayer worlds that are invite-only, if an admin is particularly concerned about hackers.”

Jimmy holds out a hand. “So wait, hang on, this- what’s this got to do with our situation?”

Impulse catches his eye. “If you try to join a firewalled world without permission, it doesn’t show up on your comm.”

“Oh,” Tango says, realization dawning in his expression. “You think Hels has a firewall?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of,” Grian says, nodding. “However, it’s a bit odd, ‘cause firewalls are usually just one-way… meaning that they keep players out, but they don’t stop players from leaving. So if that’s what’s goin’ on with Hels, it’s a firewall unlike any I’ve ever heard of- where it’s meant to keep players in, too. I’m not exactly sure if that’s why comms made in Hels can’t make portals, or if that’s due to something else entirely, but uh, that’s my best guess.”

Tango runs a hand through his hair. “That’s… I mean, this is the first I’ve heard of firewalls, but that doesn’t sound impossible…”

“So,” Jimmy speaks up hesitantly, “so how did the Hels Tek guys open a portal here?”

“How, indeed?” Etho repeats, finally looking up from Tango’s communicator. “Well, we know the portal was red, not purple. That’s like a comm portal, the way their light syncs up with the world they lead to. But uh, you know, the players coming through had items and armor on them, and they didn’t show up at world spawn. Their spawns didn’t reset, either, they uh- they kept spawning back on the other side. That makes me think this was actually a hacked nether portal, not a comm portal.”

Tango frowns. “Hang on, we- we didn’t have nether portals in Hels, either. I mean, how- there was no point, the nether and the overworld were combined into one realm.”

“Right.” Etho’s got that look in his eye- the glint of an idea about to take off. Jimmy’s seen it in Tango countless times. “You know how nether portals work?”

Tango coughs into his fist. “Oh, right, of course I know all the uh, super technical skadoodle bits, but- but maybe you should go over it.” He jerks his head towards Jimmy and Grian. “You know, for these uh, non-redstone people here.”

“Please do,” Jimmy chuckles.

Etho’s eyes crinkle upwards, like he’s smiling behind his mask. “Basically, they grab the coordinates they’re made on and translate it to nether coords, and vice versa. From what you’ve told me about Hels, being a fusion of the nether and overworld realms, a nether portal couldn’t work ‘cause it’d be like… giving it coords to a place it already is? It’d just crash and never ignite. But if you gave a nether portal frame coordinates to a different place… like, say, a different world…”

Even with Jimmy’s scarce knowledge of portals, it’s easy enough to catch Etho’s meaning.

“That’s crazy,” Tango protests. “How’d they- how could they possibly have gotten coordinates to Double Life?”

“I don’t think they did. I think they got coords to you.” Etho leans forward. “Think about it. The portal didn’t open at spawn, it opened down the hill from the ranch- where you were. I think that was intentional, considering you’re the whole reason they came.”

Jimmy’s mind is spinning. “But... how? And how’d you figure all this out?”

Etho shrugs a shoulder. “Uh, educated guess? Like, just kinda based on the things Bravo said, and what Tango’s told us about Hels and the players it spawns. But um, looking at his comm just now basically confirms it for me.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, surprised. “How?”

Etho tilts his head. “Communicators are pretty special items. They’re unique to the player they spawn with- even a replacement communicator like this one. It might not have the hard locks on it that prevent it from summoning portals, but it’s still unique to you. And based on its data, I can tell your player data is a little different. I think it has to do with you being from Hels.”

Tango hesitates. “Okay, and…?”

“If you and Bravo are really counterparts,” Etho says, “then I’d expect your data to be similar. Like, the same word in different languages, in a metaphorical sense. So if Bravo’s data was fed into a nether portal, it’d translate it to your data, and open a portal at your coords. Plus or minus a few blocks, probably.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So… you’re sayin’ they used Bravo to open a portal to Tango?” he surmises.

Etho nods. “I’d need Bravo’s comm or a look at his player data to confirm, but that’s my best guess, yeah.” He holds the communicator back out to Tango.

Tango stashes the communicator in his inventory. “So wait, what about- how does the firewall thing factor in, here?” he asks. “If it stops comm portals, wouldn’t it stop a nether portal, too?”

“Yes and no,” Grian answers. “A firewall works by constantly scanning for portals. If it finds one trying to form, it’ll crash it. If a nether portal was used to travel between different worlds, rather than two realms on the same world, a firewall would recognize it all the same.”

“But,” Etho continues, “if they somehow figured out how to stabilize the portal… like, by sending a constant stream of updates… it’d constantly reset the scanner of the firewall. Sort of like an update suppressor. That way, the uh, the firewall can never actually register the portal as a problem and shut it down. So that’d be one way they could keep a hacked nether portal open, even in the face of a firewall.”

Tango exhales slowly. “Okay…” he says, “and how do we stop them from doing that ever again?”

Impulse winces. “That, we’re not sure about. I mean, if Bravo wasn’t there for them to grab a signal from, I guess that’d stop them. However they built a portal, it probably needs his data to function.”

“Oh, well, great.” Tango throws his hands up. “No way he won’t help them again, he hates my guts. Only reason they haven’t come back yet is ‘cause Grian locked the world down, I- I guarantee it. But we can’t just all stay locked in here forever, you’ve all got lives and other worlds to get back to.”

Jimmy frowns, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Tango, anyone who’s got a problem with you has a problem with all of us.”

“For sure,” Grian agrees.

“Besides,” Impulse says, shrugging, “not to toot our own horns or anything, but I think we handled ourselves just fine against them.”

“You mean Pearl’s wolves handled them,” Tango says flatly. “And you guys had the element of surprise. I guarantee the only reason they went down so easy is ’cause they weren’t expecting much resistance. They show up again, now knowing what they’re up against, and that’s- that’s gonna turn out a whole lot differently.” He crossed his arms. “I need to leave, before Grian opens the world back up.”

“And what, just wait for them to come after you?” Jimmy demands, his wings puffing up. “Absolutely not.”

Tango makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. “It’s- you understand it’s only a matter of time, right?” he stresses. “Maybe it won’t be right after Grian lifts the lockdown, okay, maybe it’ll be days, or weeks, or months. Either way, it’ll happen eventually, and when it does… whether it’s- if that happens here, or back on Hermitcraft, or the next Life world... the result will be the same. People I care about will get caught in the crossfire, I- I’m not lettin’ that happen again.”

Jimmy pauses, wings drooping. The distress in Tango’s voice is sobering. There’s no question that Tango cares fiercely about his friends, and the guilt for putting them in harm’s way must be staggering. But still, he insists, “We don’t mind stayin’ put-”

“For how long, though?” Tango asks pointedly. “I can’t ask you guys to stay here forever. Like, I- I can’t stress enough how obsessive Atlas is. He came for me after ten years, okay, he’s not gonna just give up or lose interest. There will always be the risk of them opening another portal to me, so long as Bravo is in Hels.”

“So what if Bravo wasn’t in Hels?” Impulse cuts in.

Tango gives him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Impulse’s eyes are alight with excitement as he gains steam with his idea. “What if we went to Hels and got him out? That way, he’s not mad at you for being stuck there anymore, right, and Hels Tek can’t use him to make another portal.”

“What, you mean we open a portal to Hels?” Tango asks, raising his eyebrows. “I- I thought we already established that our comms can’t take us there, what- how are we supposed to get there?”

“The same way they got here,” Etho says. “We use your data to open a hacked nether portal to Bravo. Ahah.”

As intimidating as the prospect of encountering Hels Tek again is, Jimmy has to admit it’s probably the only solution. They can’t just ignore the problem and hope it goes away, not if it means Tango could get randomly attacked at any moment. And with all of the Double Lifers together, they stand a much better chance of succeeding.

“That’s a great idea!” Jimmy exclaims. “We grab him, shake Atlas down for the key to the collar while we’re at it, and get out. Problem solved.”

Tango doesn’t seem nearly as enthused. “No way. Absolutely no way. That’s- that’s way too dangerous, if you guys get stranded there- and Atlas is already looking for more hybrids to make farms with, he was about to take Jimmy for a feather farm!”

A brief silence follows this revelation.

Grian grimaces, ruffling his wings. “Oh, woof.”

“What?” Impulse asks, taken aback. “That’s why he had Jimmy chained up, too?”

Jimmy blinks. “Oh, is that what he meant?”

“What’d you th- you didn’t know?” Tango asks incredulously.

Jimmy holds his hands up. “Hey, hey, I didn’t spend much time thinkin’ about what he said to me!” he says sheepishly. “I was more concerned about you.”

Tango pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh. Oh, great. Well yeah, that’s what he wanted you for, to stick you in a feather farm skadoodler for all eternity.”

Jimmy swallows. No wonder Tango’s been so against the idea of them going against Hels Tek again. Death is no big deal- they’d simply respawn. Few injuries cause lasting damage. But being trapped in a farm like that, with no means to escape…

“Well,” he says, “that still doesn’t change my mind. You’re his number one target, okay, you can’t go without backup.”

“No,” Tango huffs. “Let me do it. I- I know Bravo shouldn’t just be left there forever, but that’s not your guys’ faults! It’s my life, my mistake, you guys shouldn’t be putting yourselves at risk like that-”

“Tango,” Jimmy interrupts, “we’re not gonna make a portal to Hels and just send you through alone-”

“Well, I’m not letting you guys come with me!” Tango shoots back. “Most of you guys are hybrids or monsters, too, and I’m not gonna risk Atlas turning you into farms.”

Grian clicks his tongue. “Ey, we wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “and what’s the alternative? You just take off to some solo world until Hels Tek comes a’knockin’?”

Tango shrugs. “I mean, I’d be fine with that-”

“No,” Jimmy says firmly. “I’m not lettin’ that happen. This is our only option, to put this problem to bed forever, and we stand the best chance if we do it together. We have to take it.” He grabs Tango’s hand. “Please, Tango.”

Tango hesitates, staring at their intertwined hands.

Now more than ever, Jimmy desperately wishes that he had some sense of what Tango’s thinking- even just the slightest insight to his thoughts, the faintest impression of an emotion through their soulbond. Especially since he’s had his confidence in reading Tango so thoroughly shaken over the last week. It’s scary to consider that he might not know Tango nearly half as well as he should, that Tango can so effectively mask his true feelings even from him.

“... fine,” Tango says, after a small eternity. “Fine, okay, we- let’s plan an invasion to Hels, sure.”

Jimmy gasps. “Really?”

“But,” Tango says warningly, “we gotta go about this extremely carefully, alright? No willy-nilly ‘rushing in blindly without a plan’ nonsense. And- and once we’re there, if at any point I tell you guys to flee, you- you best be fleein’, got it? With extra flee. No stupid heroics of noble stupidness.”

It’s a chance. That’s better than nothing. “Yes, alright!” Jimmy cheers. “Thank you!”

(Yay, we’re going to Hels- said no one ever.)

(Do they know what they’re getting into?)

(Oh boy, here we go.)

Etho shrugs. “Whatever you say, Tango, you’re the uh, you’re the Hels expert, here.”

Impulse folds his arms. “That’s a dirty condition you kinda tacked on the end, there,” he mutters, “but I’ll accept it.”

“Alright then.” Tango gives a tired sigh, but the corners of his mouth are curling into a smile. “I- I guess we’re doin’ this. We’ve got some room in the basement at the ranch, we can build it there.”

“Excellent.” Grian grins. “Let’s build a portal to Hels, fellas.”

~*~

Jimmy’s startled awake by a shout.

Heart pounding, he squints into the dark room. As his eyes struggle to adjust in the scarce light, he can just barely make out Tango sitting upright in bed. His rapid, shallow breaths wheeze through clenched teeth, faint sparks emitting from his dim blaze rods as they try to ignite.

“Tango,” Jimmy whispers, sitting up, “you okay?”

Tango’s breathing hitches. Then he turns to collapse against Jimmy’s chest, clinging fiercely to his shirt. His entire body is trembling. “Nightmare,” he manages to get out.

Jimmy’s heart twists. He knew it was only a matter of time, but that doesn’t make it any easier to see. Gently, he wraps his arms around Tango, then his wings for good measure. “I got ya,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

Tango tucks his face against Jimmy’s shoulder and falls silent. Maybe he’ll want to talk about it in the morning, maybe he won’t. But for now, Jimmy just holds him, and hopes that’s enough.

~*~

Jimmy stares at the redstone circuitry laid out before him. “I understand none of this.”

Though it’s only been a few days since they started work on the portal, they’ve already made a lot of progress. Impulse and Etho have been over basically around the clock, with Bdubs and Joel tagging along more often than not. They’ll watch the redstoners work until they get bored, and inevitably wander upstairs to bug Jimmy. Grian checks in on them every now and then, and the other Double Lifers have popped by for little visits, so it’s been a lot of activity at the ranch. Lots of people coming and going.

It’s strange, but not necessarily in a bad way. Almost like an actual pleasant community feeling. Neighbors helping neighbors and all that.

A dedicated digging session has left them with a bit more space in the basement, allowing them to section off a separate room from Tango’s sugar cane farm. They finished it with a stone floor and simple wooden walls at Bdubs’s insistence (he considered it unacceptable to just leave it all as freshly-dug dirt). An obsidian portal frame (complete with corners at Etho’s insistence) stands empty against the back wall, leaving abundant floor space for the redstone- of which there is plenty.

Redstone dust wires criss-cross through rows of repeaters and hopper lines. It’s all far beyond Jimmy’s capacity to understand, of course, but even Tango seems a bit baffled. He’s claimed many times that his understanding of redstone is surface-level at best, and that his real skill comes in applying the various components and systems in creative ways. But he’s at least been able to help with the construction, the actual placing of redstone components.

“Right,” Tango laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s- lemme see if I’ve got this right…” He points at a long line of redstone dust. “Main circuit to the portal.”

Impulse nods. “Yep.” 

Tango steps gingerly around the redstone, gesturing towards a rather complex looking amalgamation of observers and comparators. “This nonsense over here will turn my skadoodle bits into a fireable signal.”

Etho, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, chuckles. “Pretty much.”

“And this,” Tango waves at the hoppers, “will count out the final coords before they hop on the main bus line to the portal.”

Jimmy nods hesitantly. “Okay… okay, cool, so- so is it done, then?”

“Not quite,” Impulse says. “We need a player detector.”

Tango creases his brows together. “What, like a- like a pufferfish? A skulk sensor?”

“No, more like a- a whole separate system,” Etho explains. “It’s more than just registering your presence. We need something that can read your data, pick out your coordinates, and send them to the portal for translation to Bravo.”

Tango exhales slowly. “That… sounds pretty complicated.”

“Oh, it will be,” Impulse says, folding his arms. “I mean, just think about how much data each player contains, right, all the codes that dictate our behavior and biology… we don’t wanna overload this thing, so it’ll require some heavy-duty filtering.”

“Not only that,” Etho continues, “but uh, if that firewall thing turns out to be a problem, we’re gonna have to figure out a way to stabilize the portal, too. That’ll take some tinkering with different power sources til we find the exact right input to override the firewall’s checker.”

Jimmy winces; he’d been hoping for a quicker solution. It’s already been over a week since the invasion, and he knows Tango hates being stalled. The sooner they get this problem taken care of, the sooner they can stop worrying and get back to their normal lives. Jimmy himself doesn’t have anywhere else to be, but the other Double Lifers do. And even if they don’t mind the unexpected stay-cation, it definitely bothers Tango that their lives have been disrupted for his sake. Goodness knows he’s already got enough of a guilt complex.

But Tango simply gives a bemused smile. “Well, let’s get started, then.”

~*~

“Are we really sure we wanna do this?”

Jimmy winces at Tango’s tone. “I know, I know,” he says regretfully, “it wasn’t my favorite idea either. But if it can get that collar off’a you, we gotta try, right?”

Trying to remove the collar manually had resulted in a sharp, shooting pain through Tango’s neck at the slightest movement. Trying to remove it with redstone had proven unsuccessful- clearly, it was designed to be insulated against any outside signals. Trying to pick the lock had resulted in nothing but a lot of frustration. So that left them with their last resort.

They’ve moved outside, round the back of the ranch, to avoid getting blood stains all over their newly refurbished house. A random bed has been placed down to provide them with a quick and easy respawn, their items temporarily stowed in a chest. Impulse holds a Sharpness V sword, tail flicking as he watches them apprehensively.

“I’m only gonna do this if you’re okay with it,” he tells Tango seriously. “We can go back to the drawing board, come up with some other things to try…”

“No, no,” Tango shakes his head, “I don’t- you shouldn’t be wasting time on this, you’re already working pretty much nonstop on the portal.”

The frustration in his voice is evident. Impulse frowns. “I don’t mind…”

“Well, I do!” Tango says, crossing his arms and glancing away.

Jimmy exchanges a look with Impulse before putting a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder. “I know there’s a chance it won’t work,” he starts quietly, “and we’ll have killed ourselves for nothin’. No one likes gettin’ their head cut off. But it’ll be over quick, we’ll respawn straight back here, and then at least we’ll know we tried everything.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “Hey, I- I’m not afraid of a little decapitation, alright, I just… I feel kinda bad putting you through this, you know?” Guilt creeps into his expression. “It’s not your neck that the stupid thing is stuck on. You shouldn’t have to-”

“We’re in this together,” Jimmy tells him steadily. “So if you’re willin’ to try it, I’m happy to die along with ya.”

Tango manages a faint laugh. “Jeeze, honey, you- you don’t have to make it sound so dramatic. We aren’t on a three-life system anymore.”

Jimmy shrugs. “Well, that’s how I feel! Honestly, if there’s even a chance this’ll get that thing off’a you, I’m down.”

“Alright.” Tango takes a quick, steadying breath. “Okay, I wanna try.” He glances at Impulse. “Uh- commence the chop-ificating, then, I guess.”

Impulse nods; he’s keeping his expression and general demeanor calm, reassuring. “Okay, then. So here’s what I’m gonna do…” He carefully sets the edge of his blade along the rim of Tango’s collar, so that the metal is just barely touching skin, and then pinches the collar between the fingers of his other hand. “I’ll give it one quick, clean slice, and try to pull the collar off your body, okay?”

Tango tilts his chin up. “Okay,” he whispers. He’s nervous, now; every muscle in his body is rigid.

Jimmy reaches for his hand. “I’ll be right there with ya.”

Impulse tightens his grip on the sword. “Tango, gimme a countdown whenever you’re ready.”

“Alright.” Tango exhales shakily, closing his eyes. “Five... four... three... two...”

Jimmy closes his eyes and squeezes Tango’s hand.

“One.”

Pain slices across Jimmy’s neck- an intense, searing burn, like he’s swallowed a bucket of lava. There’s a rush of vertigo, the world spinning off-kilter around him. He’s instantly thrust into darkness, that all-consuming void with which he’s rather familiar.

And then it’s over. He’s back, sitting on the bed with Tango in a piled heap of limbs. 

Jimmy sucks in a breath. Now that everything’s stopped spinning, he can see that the collar is still around Tango’s neck.

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, sweeping Tango into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Tango’s laugh is muffled against his shoulder. “Worth a shot, right?”

Impulse, standing a few feet away and holding a bloody sword, looks dismayed. “No good,” he says as he walks over, putting the sword away. “Your body respawned before I could pull the collar off. But uh, that’s… not the only issue.”

That makes Tango look over. “What is it?”

“I caught a look at the inner face of it,” Impulse says, frowning, “the part that’s actually touching your skin? And, um… it looks like there’s a bunch of little… spikes on the inside of the collar?”

“Spikes?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I don’t know how else to describe them?” Impulse rubs the back of his neck. “Um, they’re black in color, not super big... probably thinner than my pinky finger but not like, needles or anything…”

“Oh.” Tango blinks. “It’s the thorns. They’re wither rose thorns. That’s how it works.”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “What?”

Tango spreads his hands. “When Atlas locked the collar, it must’ve caused a- a bunch of thorns to pop out and dig into my neck. But they aren’t- they don’t have the full strength of wither rose, so that’s why I’m not getting the full wither effect, and after a while, you know, they sorta- they numb the area, so I don’t feel them. But when we start yanking on the collar, it forces them deeper into my skin, so it hurts.”

“Oh... my gosh,” Jimmy breathes, aghast. “That’s- that’s horrible!”

The whole concept of the collar is already inhumane- to treat a fellow sentient player like a simple animal. But this? This is just plain evil. 

Impulse seems to be trying very hard not to get upset again. “Well, then,” he says, voice tight. “That rules out my next suggestion, which was to just go at it with a few sharp axes. I don’t wanna like, hammer those thorns deeper into your neck...” His expression turns thoughtful. “What if we try and get something sharp between your neck and the collar, slice off the thorns all the way around? Then we could-”

“No,” Tango interrupts. “Look, I- I appreciate the help, but if we tweak this thing the wrong way, it could probably jab an artery, or puncture my trachea, and then I’d respawn and be right back at square one again! No, I- I think we’re done.”

Impulse looks like he wants to argue, but Jimmy catches his gaze, giving him an imploring look. 

“Alright,” Impulse relents. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “we’ll get that collar off, I promise.”

“It’s fine.” Tango’s avoiding Jimmy’s eyes. “It... might not be the worst thing, you know, to have my fire locked down. Considering our fancy new house and all.”

Oh, they can’t have that. Jimmy puts a hand on his shoulder. “Tango,” he says seriously, “your fire is a part of you, and I’m not gonna rest til we’ve got it back.”

Tango sighs, but when he looks up, his eyes are fond. “I know.”

Impulse exhales slowly. “Do you... wanna try and get the cuffs off, then?” he offers.

“What?” Tango jolts. “Why? They aren’t hurtin’ anything.”

Impulse holds up his hands. “Hey, it’s okay, I just thought... if they’re from that terrible place, maybe you’d wanna get rid of ‘em?”

“And y’know,” Jimmy chimes in, “it’d be a lot easier for someone else to crack them off ya, couple good swings with an axe, maybe…”

“That won’t work,” Tango says stiffly. “They’ve been on me for so long now, been through so many respawns that if I’m not the one to remove them, it- they’ll just keep coming back.” 

Impulse inhales through his teeth, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Oh, man.”

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks, his heart sinking. He isn’t overly familiar with the universal rules that determine what does and doesn’t respawn along with a player, but Tango seems pretty certain.

“Yeah. They’re basically part of my data now.”

“Oh.”

The unspoken question is glaringly obvious: ‘why haven’t you removed them yet, then?’ The cuffs seem just as well-made as the collar, but surely there’s a way to cut through them. At least, he should’ve been able to find a way sometime during the last ten years- even if he wasn’t comfortable asking any of the Hermits to help him.

But Jimmy can tell Tango’s already hit his limit for today. It’s a subject he’s always avoided discussing in the past, so they’ll just have to wait until he’s ready.

(Oh, gonna make that mistake again?)

‘Shut up,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

“Need some help, hun?”

“Ack!” Jimmy gives a start, accidentally yanking out the feather he’d been teasing. He whirls around. “Tango!”

Tango holds his hands up. “Sorry, sorry!”

“Jeeze,” Jimmy laughs, catching his breath, “I- I thought you guys were still working on the portal!”

“Well, yeah,” Tango says, closing the door behind him, “but Etho thinks we need a redstone ore block and we didn’t have any layin’ around, so he and Impulse went mining.” He crosses over to sit on the bed, curiously studying the feathers strewn about. “Doin’ some preening?”

“Um...” Jimmy ducks his head sheepishly. “Yeah, just- just the uh, burned ones... they’re startin’ to itch.”

Tango gives him a sad smile. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to hide it from me, I- I won’t get all weird mega guilt-trippy about it.”

Jimmy softens. “I just... I know you’ve been beating yourself up about it, that’s all.” He gazes at the burned feather in his hand. “It was an accident. I don’t blame you.”

“I know.” Tango runs a gentle hand over one of Jimmy’s wings. “Can… can I help?”

Jimmy smiles. “Sure.”

~*~ 

“Wait, are you serious?” Tango asks, eyes wide. “You think the portal’s ready to go? Right now?”

Grain nods. “Yeah, I do.”

Jimmy glances between them with raised eyebrows. They’d called Grian over for a little update on the current state of the portal project- now complete with the fancy player detector system that the redstoners have been painstakingly building over the past week. But once Etho explained that the final step was stabilization, Grian had dropped a bomb on them.

“I’ve uh… been doin’ some research,” Grian continues, “and I’m pretty sure that Hels has a firewall that’s just been sorta… inverted? It’s still a one-way barrier, it just stops players from making portals out rather than in. ‘Course, it’s still inaccessible by comm portal, but our little set-up here should circumvent that. Once we’ve gotten the portal to lock onto Bravo’s coords, there shouldn’t be anythin’ stopping it from forming.”

Etho scratches the side of his mask. “Well, if we don’t have to stabilize the portal, that’ll definitely simplify things,” he says. “We might actually have everything we need already.”

“Couldn’t hurt to fire it up,” Impulse agrees, glancing at Tango. “Just to give it a little test drive? If we do get a portal open, we can easily shut it down right after. We don’t have to actually go through it.”

Tango hesitates. “But wouldn’t Grian have to lift the lockdown?”

“Yeah, I will,” Grian amends. “But I’ve actually just finished settin’ up a firewall, so when I lift the lockdown, we’ll still be protected. We’ll be able to leave through any portal we want, but no one else can get in without bein’ on the whitelist.”

“Wait, really?” Tango looks surprised. “Why- did you let the others know? I- I’m sure they’ll wanna get back to their other worlds.”

“Ey, I only just finished it!” Grian defends. “I wanted to let you lot know first, so there wouldn’t be any panic or confusion if people started randomly leavin’ through portals. I’ll inform the others, but uh, I’m pretty sure they’ll wanna just stick around til we get this done. Especially if the portal’s ready to go. All that’ll be left to do is come up with our plan of attack, and we’ll need all hands on deck for the actual mission.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says easily, “Hermitcraft can wait.”

Tango chews his lip. “I… I guess we can try it,” he relents.

“Great!” Grian pulls his communicator out. “Gimme a second to lift the lockdown, okay…”

Jimmy turns to Tango, taking him by the hands. “Hey, is this alright?” he asks softly. “We don’t have to try it today if you don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Tango assures him, squeezing his hands. “It’s just- it’s a bit sooner than I was expecting, you know? But this is good. I mean, if this works, then this whole business will finally be over.”

Jimmy’s eyes trace the collar around Tango’s neck. “Yeah. And not a moment too soon.”

Obviously they’ve still got a pretty significant task ahead of them. It’ll be no easy feat to storm Hels Tek, not if they’ve got as much muscle backing them up as they did for the invasion. Atlas is one slippery fella, and it might be hard to get Bravo to listen to them long enough to cooperate. But getting the portal in working order is another hurdle down, so they can shift gears towards the impending mission. And once that’s done, there’ll no longer be a threat hanging over them.

Suffice to say, Jimmy’s looking forward to getting back to his domestic bliss.

“Okay,” Grian says, glancing up, “lockdown is officially lifted. Go ahead.”

“Alright, Tango.” Etho pushes away from the wall. “Uh, just hop onto the redstone ore block whenever you’re ready, I guess? Everything should be in place.”

Tango exhales shakily, looking nervous, but he manages to give Jimmy a smile. “Here goes nothin’...”

Turning away, he steps onto the redstone ore block, which immediately lights up. It starts a sort of ripple effect along the dust that connects it to the rest of the redstone, triggering all kinds of ticking and flashing. It’s all Jimmy can do to follow the signal as it travels towards the portal frame-

Static fills the air, and the portal ignites. Swirling red light fills the frame.

“Oh, nice,” Grian breathes.

“Yes!” Impulse cheers. “We did it!”

“Okay, uh, Tango?” Etho nods at him. “Go ahead and step off the block, now.”

Tango doesn’t respond. He’s staring at the portal with an unreadable expression clouding his gaze, almost as if in a trance.

Jimmy quickly hurries to his side. “Tango,” he murmurs, gently shaking his arm, “come on.”

“Huh?” Tango jolts. “Oh, oh right, sorry!” 

He steps aside, and the portal remains lit. Impulse grins. “Alright, looks like we’re good,” he says, stooping over to hit a button next to the portal. A piston extends across the redstone line, and the portal extinguishes.

Jimmy lets out a breath of relief. An irrational part of him had been worried that Hels players would immediately start pouring through. “You okay?” he asks Tango quietly.

Tango nods. “Yeah, sorry,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I’m fine, it just… kinda hit me all at once.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says, “I definitely wasn’t expecting to have a working portal today, either. But hey, good job guys!”

“Yeah, nicely done, fellas,” Grian says, sounding pleased. He starts typing on his communicator. “I’m gonna let the others know we’ve got the portal workin’, and tomorrow… we’ll all meet to start planning our invasion of Hels. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with a solid plan to get Bravo, get that key from Atlas, and get out.”

Tango snorts. “Oh, sure. Easy peasy.”

“Don’t worry,” Jimmy says, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “We won’t go through til we’re all good and ready, yeah?”

Tango’s expression softens. “Yeah.”

“Right.” Grian puts his communicator away. “Get some rest, everyone, and we’ll see you tomorrow. Details in chat.”

~*~

<Grian> portal done. meet @ impulse and bdubs tomorrow at noon for hels invasion plotting. all ideas welcome

<PearlescentMoon> Ooh :0 

<InTheLittleWood> wait seriously? already??

<Renthedog> YO amazing job on the portal guys! :D 

<BdoubleO100> oh THANKS A LOT for volunteering us to host GRIAN!!

<Grian> :P 

~*~

Later that night, in the dark quiet of their room, Tango rolls over to nestle his head beneath Jimmy’s chin, claws bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

Jimmy hums. “For what?”

“For… not givin’ up on me.”

“What’d’you mean?”

“I mean… you know, I- after everything I did, and- and everything I said…”

“I already told you, that doesn’t matter to me.”

“Yeah, I know. But when I realized the secret was out… that things were- that we couldn’t just go back to normal… I mean, I was convinced it was over. Everything, my- my new life, my freedom, my friends. Us. But you never gave up hope.”

“Of course. It’s been a long road here, alright, I- I’m not givin’ that up without a fight.”

Tango tilts his chin up to look at Jimmy, red eyes glowing in the dark, and leans in to meet his lips. They kiss slow and sweet. Warmth hums in Jimmy’s chest.

This hasn’t been an easy journey, and he knows there’s plenty more challenges still ahead. Even if the mission to Hels goes well and they achieve all that they want to, the experiences Tango’s been through won’t magically go away. It’ll take time. Healing isn’t linear. But with everything out in the open now and the support of their friends, Jimmy’s hopeful that Tango can start to unlearn his self-hatred. Jimmy will be there every step of the way.

All too soon, Tango pulls away. “We should get some rest,” he whispers, settling against Jimmy again.

“Yeah,” Jimmy sighs ruefully, draping a wing across Tango. “Gonna need all two of my brain cells at full strength.”

Tango huffs a soft laugh. “Love you, honey.”

Jimmy closes his eyes, smiling. “Love you, too.

~*~

Jimmy wakes up to a cold bed.

That immediately sets off alarm bells in his head, because since when has Tango gotten out of bed before him? Then he opens his eyes and realizes it’s still night; a faint crescent moon hangs in the starry sky visible through their window. Their room is dark and empty. Tango is nowhere to be seen.

The alarm bells become a siren.

No, no, no, no, no.

Jimmy springs out of bed, sparing a second only to grab his shoes off the floor before throwing the door open. His heart is in his throat as he flies down the stairs to the main level- all dark and empty- and hooks the corner to wrench open the basement door. 

Already he can see the chilling red glow from the portal cast across the wall, a shadow of bleeding light, and a million curses scream through his mind. His stomach feels like it’s knotted in on itself and his lungs are burning for air, he’s moving faster than what seems physically possible and yet not nearly fast enough as he crashes down the stairs and bursts into the portal room, mouth opening to cry out-

Just in time to watch Tango vanish into the red light.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player walks through a portal.

Tango’s heartbeat pounds in his ears. He’s already started shaking- if it weren’t for the wither effect flowing from his collar, he’s certain his blaze rods would be igniting right now. It’s a bizarre mix of emotions. The scent of ash and the sight of netherrack are comforting, in a way. Familiar. But it’s also terrifying, because there’s no mistaking where he is.

(There’s a reason he doesn’t like hanging out in the nether.)

Fear threatens to swallow him. He pushes it down; he’s got a job to do.

Forcing a steadying breath through his clenched teeth, he takes in his surroundings, ears pricked cautiously. He’s definitely not at spawn- he’s at the border of a basalt delta, actually, fine gray particles fluttering through the air. Aside from the portal behind him, there’s not a structure in sight. No sounds save for the distant bubbling of lava and the distinctive slap of magma cubes.

Tango frowns, chewing his lip. The portal was supposed to take him to Bravo, so he must be around here somewhere. Why he’s not at Hels Tek, Tango isn’t sure. Maybe they’re out on an errand run? Either way, he ought to start looking around.

But first, he’s got to break the portal so no one can follow him. Everything he’d packed made it through with him, thankfully, so he equips his pickaxe and turns back to the portal-

Just in time for Jimmy to emerge, running straight into him.

The collision knocks Tango to the ground, pickaxe flying from his hand, his forehead stinging where it smacked against Jimmy’s chin. Blinking spots from his eyes, he pushes himself up on his elbows with a groan. Once his vision stops spinning, he locks eyes with Jimmy, who seems just as shocked as he is.

Both of them shout at exactly the same moment.

“What are you doing here?!”

~*~

[gothamite-rambler]

"You slashed his tires?" Dick asked, disappointed at the upcoming answer.

Inspired by Class of 09 mostly cause I imagine Jason would be there for Roy as a friend. I'm aware the characters that most of these lines are connected to are clinically insane, but I wanted to write this because I like their dynamic and it's just my silly headcanon fanfic.

Dick Grayson: Jason, I've been questioning this since you became friends with Roy.

Jason Todd (staring into his coffee): You're jealous he's my friend and not yours.

Dick (sincere): No, you're a good influence on him, I'm not upset about that. I noticed Oliver Queen seems to hate you a lot. Why?

Jason: We... We didn't have the best first meet up when I became friends with Roy.

Dick sat down and waved his hand for Jason to continue.

Dick: I have to hear this.

Jason: Okay... It’s a really funny story, you’re gonna laugh by the end of it.

Dick (sighing): I doubt it, but go on.

---Flashback (inspired by Class of 09)---

Roy and Jason entered Oliver Queen's mansion. Jason looks around, amazed to be in another rich person's house that isn’t his dad’s.

Roy: You think that cop bought our story?

Jason: Yeah, the other guy confirmed it while we ran off... we’re good. I’ll be right back; I have to fix this.

Roy watched as Jason walked over to a tilted painting in Oliver Queen’s house.

Roy: What are you doing?

Jason Todd (examining a framed picture of a flower): I can’t deal with this painting being crooked.

Jason aligned the frame. Roy laughed until he heard footsteps descending the stairs. He realized his father had come home early. Oliver Queen saw Roy and a strange man in his foyer.

Oliver Queen: Where have you been?

Roy Harper: I don’t know, are you a cop now?

Oliver: No note, no text— you could have died!

Roy: With how you handled my drug use, would you have cared?

Oliver: Get over it; you’re fine.

Jason (walking over): Roy, why’s this asshole yelling at you?

Oliver: And who’s this?

Roy: My… new friend.

Jason: We were at the mall, by the way, so you can stop grilling Roy.

Oliver: So I’m supposed to believe you two were at the mall all night?

Roy: What do you mean “all night”? We were there for like, what… two or three hours?

Jason (looking around): Yeah, two and a half. Like the show.

Oliver: It’s 1 in the morning!

Jason: Damn, we hung out with that guy that long?

Oliver: What guy?

Roy (nervous): Nobody.

Oliver: What guy, Roy?

Roy: Nobody!

Oliver: Tell me!

Roy (frustrated): Oh my God.

Oliver: Tell me or your friend has to go home!

Jason (amused): Cool, an ultimatum.

Roy (losing his cool): You really want to know?

Oliver: Yes! What guy was this?

Roy (shouting): The crackhead in front of the mall we sold weed to!

Oliver (shocked): Where did you even get—oh, you’re so stupid!

Roy: Oh, so you hate homeless people too?!

Oliver: My opinions about the homeless community are not the issue here! Dealing drugs in public—dealing drugs in general- it doesn’t matter if you sold them to get rid of them! How can you be so idiotic?!

Jason, irritated at Oliver yelling at his friend, steps in.

Jason: It was actually kind of smart.

Oliver (indignant): Excuse me?

Jason: You better fix your fucking tone with me before I slash your tires!

Oliver (offended): Who are you talking to?!

Jason: I’m talking to you, Green Arrow!

Oliver: How did you—

Roy: Ollie, funny story—

Oliver: Did you sell him crack or heroin? Did you tell him who I was for that smack, Roy?!

Roy, rubbing his arm shamefully, remains silent.

Jason: Who says “smack”? You 1950s gangster! I also love how you didn’t pretend you weren’t him; that’s how stupid you are! We sold weed to a crackhead, because what would a crackhead want with weed? Cops won’t expect that shit! It’s genius!

Oliver (mocking): Genius, really?!

Jason: Yeah! And he’s been sober for a few freaking years! So lay off him! We sold the weed because we had it left over from a mission! A mission you weren’t on! What did you want us to do, keep it? That’s dumb! We did a business deal and got rid of evidence. You should be thankful we don’t have it!

Roy (defiant): Yeah, so... why don’t you shut the fuck up?!

Oliver (smirk): What if I have you arrested? You’ll be able to walk, since your plan is so bulletproof!

Roy: No, wait, don’t do that!

Jason: Go the fuck ahead, asshole. They’ll believe us because we’re young and you’re old and dried up.

Oliver: That’s it, I don’t want you hanging out with him anymore!

Jason (angry): He can hang out with whoever the fuck he wants, bitch! So why don’t you go to your room, pour your little Cognac, watch M.A.S.H, and shut the fuck up or I’ll shove an arrow up your urethra!

Oliver: I can't believe you'd say that!

Oliver busted into tears and runs off.

Jason: God, that felt good. Wish I could say that to my dad.

Roy: Why don’t you?

Jason: He’ll write me out of the will.

Roy: Wow, huh... I think you broke him, so yeah, I get not saying that to Bruce.

Jason: I did break him... Awesome. I’m glad I defended you.

Roy: Honestly, I appreciate that, but we should leave. He’s going to be sobbing for a while.

Jason: And watching M.A.S.H?

Roy: It’s not on tonight.

---End of Flashback---

Jason: Then I stole some stuff from his fridge, slashed his tires, and we’ve had animosity toward each other ever since. Man, those were crazy times. Guess he hasn’t forgotten about it.

Jason sighed contentedly.

Dick (rubbing his forehead, exhausted): You do realize how that wasn’t okay, right?

Jason: Yes, but I helped Roy when he was struggling and got that Oliver prick off his case. I’ve done a lot for Roy, especially in helping him get full custody of his daughter. Oliver should be appreciating what his son has become. I am such a good person, you know that?

Dick (chuckling): I don’t disagree. At least you’re not the only one Oliver dislikes.

Jason: Who else does he hate?

Dick: Bruce. Long story.

[watchtowerindistress]

the empath and the eldritch horror (1/5) - ben hargreeves x empath!reader

Summary: Number 8 challenged him. Ben just needed to decide if he liked it or not. Nope, definitely hated it. There was no way in hell he actually liked the little Empath.

Word count: 3.1k

Series masterlist

Warnings: sparrow!ben is a warning in itself, language, violence, mental abuse (y'know Reginald's usual schtick)

Author’s note: I'm merely writing moments in the lives of these characters, since I don't know all the quotes. So the chapters are going to feel like snippets/best moments. I made this series shorter than I expected, but I'm cramming everything together as I wanted. (Set in S3)

I didn't feel like doing a lot of world-building, to be honest. I'm aware this isn't my best work, sorry, my depression makes me tired. I just realized when I wrote that dojo scene that I liked Sparrow!Ben so much because he reminded me of an older version of Damian Wayne. 😅 Please be gentle 🤗 I've never written for this fandom before. You want to be tagged or untagged, let me know. As always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Where the hell is my brother?”

Your determined voice carried to the departing backs of Ben and Fei. Even walking through those corridors in this strange timeline felt utterly surreal. Not to mention, profoundly strange seeing this older version of Ben. After remembering the pictures of when he was still alive.

So, you could only compare this version with the stories Klaus loved to tell. A funny mess. And most of the time a little shit.

Judging by the sarcastic look Ben threw over his shoulder before he fully turned his body, this version of Ben certainly was willing to stir some trouble.

Ben smirked. Fei copied his arrogant demeanor next to him, silently watching this exchange.

“Relax, we just want to have a little chat, and then we’re done with you two.”

Just hearing him talk so unceremoniously about your lives like that simmered something inside you. Like the two of you didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Like Luther and you were barely a blip on their radar.

Your face contorted with anger. To infuriate him just a tad, with the way he infuriated you with his callous words, your body barely leaned forward.

“We’re not things you can just dispose of once we served our purpose.”

Ben tilted his head. There was something fascinating about rendering someone like him speechless for a moment. You weren’t foolish enough to think you were getting to him. Your fingertips twirled behind your back to get a grasp on Ben’s emotions, only to sense something akin to a daze tingling under the surface. Not trusting your own empathetic powers what you detected was real.

Barely turning his head, Ben spoke to Fei with a certain voice. “I can handle this one.”

Fei smirked to herself before murmuring, “I’m sure you do,” and leaving Ben on his own.

He laced his fingers behind his back while playfully dancing on the back of his feet. Ben pursed his lips. “Something I can help you with?”

“How about being the responsible one by having a real conversation instead of using people for your benefit by literally abducting them, huh?”

Ben nodded repetitively, like he couldn’t care less about anyone’s feelings. “Right.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “What’s the name of the big guy again?”

You conjured a patient smile. “Luther. You know, your brother from another timeline?”

Ben crossed his arms, revealing a crooked smile. “As everyone keeps telling me. I wouldn’t call it an abduction,” he exhaled tiredly, shrugging slightly.

“Are we allowed to leave?”

Ben pursed his lips. “I think he’s starting to like it here. And, you know, you seem seconds away from falling for our charms. We do have things to offer that your precious Umbrellas can only dream of.”

Mocking laughter erupted from your chest before Ben joined in. “Right. Wow, someone’s really sold on themselves.”

“I mean, calling it an abduction? Sounds kinda judgmental, don’t you think?”

You clenched your jaw. Remembering Luther’s emotions brought you back to the park, like they were your own. “I felt his desperation ahead of me,” you replied, deciding to remind him.

At the mention, Ben pointed at you, remembering. “So, you’re the emotional one, huh? What’s your number again?”

“I’m not just a number, Hargreeves.” You placed your hands on your hips. “Not surprised that you would deem something like empathy barely a power. I’d like to see you handle an anxiety attack when I’m done with you.”

Ben waved his arms at his sides. His aura was literally shimmering with excitement as he smirked widely. “Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You rolled your eyes. It seemed like this version of Ben felt drawn to any sort of mischief, the more the better. “And I thought Klaus was the crazy one,” you muttered under your breath. With a normal voice, you inquired, “Where’s Luther?”

“Probably in the kitchen still miserably failing at charming the pants off Sloane.”

A sigh left you when you mutely walked away towards the direction of Fei’s departure. Truth be told, only to get away from Ben faster.

You had already walked away with brisk steps when Ben’s arrogant sing-song voice made you regret all your life choices. “Other way.”

You instantly turned, while grumbling under your breath, “Fucking smart-ass.” You didn’t need to spare him a glance to feel Ben’s arrogant joy coming off of him in waves when he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in delight.

“You know where to find me if you want to work on those powers of yours, … Number Eight.” Ben chuckled with mirth.

Self-loathing rippled through you just a tad for not letting your power detect Luther’s aura through the mansion to avoid this embarrassing situation altogether. And you blamed yourself for underestimating him. For thinking Ben wouldn’t have interrogated Luther about you.

“So, this is what you guys are doing in your free time, huh?”

Ben’s eyes remained closed when he performed his tai chi movements in the dojo, not letting himself appear to be ruffled by your presence.

“This tells me everything I need to know about your squadron of Umbrellas. How does it feel wasting your day away, not improving?”

You remained unfazed by his choice of insults. In the end, you were used to Reginald’s mental abuse. Your eyes followed his movements, content with watching his little ritual while leaning with your shoulder against the pillar.

“Depends. What’s it feel like when you’re not being a mascot for a Hargreeves empire?”

Ben scoffed in derision. “You think you can distract me?”

Grateful for his answer, you smiled in pure delight before sitting cross-legged on the middle of the training mat. “Oh, I know I am. Besides, I wanted to take you up on that offer which was made by a helpful Ben.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t ever call me that. You’re delusional for thinking I want to help you.”

You dramatically pressed your hand to your chest. “‘Oh, Y/N, I just can’t live with myself if something happened to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if that means helping you advance your powers.’”

Forced laughter erupted from Ben’s chest. “Har har, and I thought Sundance was the hilarious one.”

“Klaus.” You reminded him diligently.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Empath.”

You were strangely getting used to this Ben and felt truly like you were having a grand ol' time with him. Even if that meant ruffling his feathers. “You want to know what I think?”

“No,” Ben muttered with a gruff voice.

You continued as if you hadn’t heard him, “Someone’s really pretending that they don’t care about anyone or anything. Or, second theory-”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Ben interrupted you wryly.

“Maybe you don’t mind a distraction to take your mind off things.”

This time around, Ben turned to face you before he knelt down. Leaning over you until you could feel his warm breath on your skin. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“I’m the emotional one, remember?” You whispered before you pursed your lips when a thought hit you. “Not to mention, I can feel your curiosity, with a smidge of you itching for a fight.”

Ben snorted. “You’re adorable for thinking you can take me in a fight-”

An angelic smile tugged at your mouth. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest which was revealed underneath the dark robe. Your fingertips tingled before you let your power come to the surface.

The golden shimmer enshrouded Ben’s chest, pulling him backwards. No matter how many times you had done it before, your hands cautiously studied his aura once you heard his heavy breathing.

You still whispered soothingly, “That’s the sensation you get for being close to fainting. That feeling of vertigo tormenting your body and like your head can’t get enough air.”

The caring side of you stroked Ben’s feverish forehead until the dizzying spell lessened and was finally relieved.

You swallowed once you met Ben’s darkened gaze. He stared at you with glittering eyes, like he was truly seeing you for the first time. Ben licked his lips. “I think … I might have some use for you after all.”

“You may not know this, but my power doesn’t work like a medium,” you said, nervously rubbing your thighs to stimulate your senses.

Ben sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. The Sparrow had changed back into a shirt after the impromptu training session. He leaned forward and warned through clenched teeth. “Do you want to be of help, or not? Get this done, and you and your brother can go back to whatever shithole you stay at.”

“Not with this type of energy in the room.” You widened your eyes at Ben’s glowering ones to make your point. Before long you sat down on Marcus’ bed, with a bored Fei leaning against the door jamb.

Ben’s sister twiddled her manicured fingernails. “Is this a waste of time?”

He clenched his jaw, facing her. “No, it’s not. I know what she can do.”

“Aww, Benny-boo, you believe in me. That’s so cute. Who knew you had a heart?”

Fei smirked, tilting her head. “Not me.”

“You guys are hilarious. Are we done with the ‘band together against Ben today’? I’m doing whatever it takes to locate Marcus here and you two are not helping with the situation.”

You pressed your lips together at Ben���s all too serious demeanor. “Just trying to lighten the mood since your tense atmosphere isn’t helping with the task at hand.”

Ben shared a close-lipped smile, caging your body in on the bed. Despite his threatening air, you remained steadfast and didn’t move an inch.

“Do you mind just doing the thing before I lose my mind and let my tentacles do the talking?”

You narrowed your eyes. Ben needed to work on his lacking social skills, if his only resort were threats. “Say please?”

You could breathe easier again when Ben straightened his body and crossed his arms. “Keep dreaming.”

You exhaled heavily. Half the time he was fun to talk to and other times, he wore you out. “Just give me something of his that holds emotional value,” you mentioned, patiently waiting. The awkward silence confused you to no end. Ben and Fei exchanged glances among each other.

“Why is nothing happening?”

Ben turned to Fei. “Get Sloane.”

His sister tilted her head, challenging him. “Oh, I can just summon my crows.”

The muscles on Ben’s arms tensed before his jaw clenched with his next words. “Fei, take a walk.”

Her shoulder shook with mirth when Fei left with relaxed steps.

Ben’s sarcastic voice pulled you back to him. “I’m guessing giving you one of his leather jackets wouldn’t count, right?”

Your elbows supported you when you settled back. “Wouldn’t get the desired effect. So, let me guess, you guys are just numbers and soldiers?”

Ben shrugged, leaning his hip against the cabinet. “Gets the job done.”

“And you’re content with that?”

“It’s the only thing that matters.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. Or at least, you couldn’t imagine someone being satisfied with being so shallow. “Right. Because being associated to a number is all that matters.”

Ben smirked crookedly. “Oh, there’s nothing better.”

“Right, Number Two,” you added, trying to get to him.

“You trying to flirt with me, Eight?”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “You wish.”

Ben chuckled, pondering to himself. “Who’d have thought? Maybe I prefer calling you Empath more than Eight. It’s pretty close though.”

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks blush at being more intertwined with that status of Empath than a generic number. “You’re weird.”

The mood of his aura changed to something unfamiliar. At least to someone like Ben. He cleared his throat. “So,…”

“So…?” You teasingly copied him, putting the side of your head against your shoulder, watching his reaction.

Ben crossed his arms. “What was he like?”

“Our Ben? Why do you want to know?” To you, it seemed strange for someone like him to inquire about his alternate version.

He eyed something outside the window. “Just curious, I guess,” Ben said, still not looking at you.

“Why don’t you ask Klaus or the others? I only met Ben after he was dead.”

“Wait, what?” That finally got a reaction out of Ben when he rapidly turned his head to stare at you with a peculiar gaze.

You sighed, remembering the circumstances of you meeting your siblings for the first time. “Reginald called me ‘the replacement’.”

Maybe this was ultimately his plan to ostracize you from the others by using that term. At least, you had Diego and Luther at your side. Klaus soon joined that tight-knit little circle once you confided in feeling that sensation of an unfamiliar aura wandering the halls of the manor.

Sometimes it still hurt how everything progressed. Your siblings emanating their grief onto you didn’t bother you. It was their apathy, that they didn’t care about you.

“I was taken in after Ben’s death. I could only feel his aura around after he was dead. I can sense who someone is in a way. Feel what kind of a person they are. Ben was always…” You pondered deeply how to describe someone like him. How to condense someone’s life and traits into the essence of someone.

“Kind, intelligent, mostly mischievous.” You smiled fondly, whispering quietly, “I could never replace him even if I tried.”

You didn’t know what it was about your gaze that made the Sparrow avoid it again. With the shaking of your head, you dispelled your thoughts. The new aura close by tickling your fingertips was a fitting distraction.

You glanced towards the open door. “Hey, Sloane.”

Seconds later, said woman poked her head into the room, smiling with a delighted air. “Neat party trick.”

An expectant Ben raised his eyebrows, interrupting any further carefree moments. “Sloane, Marcus’ favorite stuff he liked to touch?”

You felt inclined to add something else before more inquiries could arise. “In other words, yes. Or something that mattered to him.”

“There should be a book in his nightstand.”

That was the only mention Ben needed before he opened the drawer. Ben shook his head with a scoff, inspecting the worn edition. He showed his sisters the found evidence. “Are you kidding me? The Velveteen Rabbit?”

Sloane waved her open palms soothingly. “Remember we just want Marcus back.”

“What a nerd,” he grumbled, carelessly giving you the book.

“Says you? It’s a timeless classic,” you admonished Ben lightly before reaching for the hardcover edition.

Ben smirked. “I rest my case.” He furrowed his brows when a second thought hit him. “And what did you just say to me?”

You chose to ignore Ben’s little angry outburst when Sloane sat next to you on the bed. “Will it be enough for you to build a psychic connection?”

You closed your eyes, trying to hone in on the source. With your fingertips brushing along the spine of the book, your search for the truth was soon answered with the first memory remnants hitting you. Shivers coursed through your body at the sensation of Marcus’ memories filling your mind like they were your own.

There was an abundance of wishful thinking contained into the book, the craving of a different reality when Marcus’ birth mother granted him this first and last gift.

“It should suffice,” you said assuredly. With a calming sigh, you leaned your head back against the pillows. The book was held tightly in your grip.

“Yeah, sure. Have a nap, why don’t you? Something else you need? Maybe some soothing music, a face mask?”

Your eyes remained closed when you murmured, “Ben Hargreeves.” To get the message across, you made a quiet coyote signal. Hoping it would calm his frayed nerves.

A ripple of Ben’s undignified frustration wafted through the air. His only answer was a harrumphing noise.

You stirred your head, biting your lip in confusion. “I can feel a strong enough remnant, but I should be able to sense his location.”

“What are you saying?” Ben inquired tightly.

You chose your next words carefully. “I’m saying, … I can’t feel Marcus.”

“What does this mean?” Fei’s strained voice shared Ben’s sentiment. “Are you saying he’s dead? Abducted?”

At last, you opened your eyes. The perplexity of this unsolved mystery still plaguing your mind even after. It was more than nerve-wracking. “I’m saying that I should be able to find him, but I can’t. It’s like he just … vanished.”

The air crackled with hostility. Anxiously, you swallowed, staring straightforward. You jumped back when Ben’s wrath reached you.

Holding you down with his tentacles, with one of them slinging around your throat. Tightly but menacingly enough to spell out his primal urges. Ben’s body draped over yours. Fury blazed in his darkened eyes. “Now, Umbrella, I’m done with your little mind games.”

Sloane stood behind Ben’s shoulder, raising her voice. “Ben, let go.”

“Not until I find out what her family has done to him.”

With a hoarse voice, you implored darkly, “Listen to your sister before your Cthulu tentacles get the memo about me too.” As a warning, you gripped the surprisingly smooth appendage around your throat.

You cursed your curious mind for even harboring the thought of wanting to know how the tentacle’s skin would feel like.

Ben’s smile grew tighter, the more his eldritch monster’s hold intensified. “Try me, Eight.”

Summoning empathetic energy from within to converse it as a kinetic shield, you blasted him against the cabinet and leaving small splinters of wood on the carpet.

With a grunting noise, Ben’s tentacles drew back into his body. “Alright,” he murmured reluctantly. Ben dragged his body upwards until he was leaning against the furniture for support. He offered a blood-stained smile in reverence before he wiped off the crimson evidence from his lips. “Little minx.”

A dull thud resounded when you dropped the book on the duvet. You stood up and with a quiet voice you told Ben in no uncertain terms, “Don’t ever threaten me again.”

Remembering the company of Ben’s sisters and the result of your outburst, you awkwardly glanced at them before your feet led you towards the open door.

Wordlessly, Fei turned her body to make room. Her gaze roamed over your body with fondness after your display of power. As soon as you left the room, her dry voice remarked, “I’d consider this a success.”

Tagging: @cherryinsalemverse @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman @lelaamela

[thenickgirl]

TERRIBLE TWOS

dad!nick x male!reader

summary: in which you and your husband, Nick, try to handle your daughter, Aliyah’s, tired behavior.

genre: fluff ✩ pov: second person ✩ word count: 1.4k

warnings: none?

a/n: uhh i know i said i wasn’t writing another fic, but i’m a liar so, jokes on you actually. i came up with this in the shower and just couldn’t pass it up. it was meant to be a little blurb, but gang wanted more so. the ending is awkward sorry, i still don’t quite know what i’m doing. anyways, happy reading! ❤️‍🔥

Life as new parents isn’t always the easiest, but you two have handled things fairly well. The past two years with your daughter, Aliyah, have been amazing. Nick is able to work on his business remotely, so he mostly stayed home with her, while you went in to work everyday. He was an outstanding father, and Aliyah absolutely adored him, they were so close. She loved you just as much of course, and on the weekends she loved having you both home to cuddle and play with. She had grown used to your daily routine, however, today was going to be different, because Nick had meetings lined up that he had to be in the office for, so you took off in order to stay home with her. It wasn’t the first time you had been alone with your daughter obviously, but it had been a while. Still, you were eager to spend some one on one time with your sweet girl. You had heard horror stories of people complaining about their toddlers' behavior, but you always chalked it up to them either over exaggerating or just being bad parents. That was until today, when your own toddler decided she wanted to switch things up.

-

“BABE WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??” you shout as your husband, Nick, walks in the door, his hands full of bags you assumed to be groceries. “I know, I’m sorry our last meeting ran way over, and I knew we needed some things for dinner so I decided to stop by the store on the way home.” He says as he walks into the kitchen, placing the bags onto the island. “We might not even make it to dinner!” you shout, and Nick looks over at you confused, his eyes narrowing. “Babe, what are you talking about?” he chuckles, as he puts the food away, clearly not understanding the severity of the situation. “Aliyah, your daughter, didn’t go down for her nap today.” you say to him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why is she only my daughter when she doesn’t take a nap?” he responds, mimicking your gesture. “That’s because she acts just like you when she doesn’t. She’s extremely cranky. She wouldn’t stop crying. She’s been throwing fits every 15 minutes. SHE ACTUALLY THREW AT BLOCK AT ME!” you yell recounting the event. Nick bites back a laugh before the realization hits him, “Ohh no,” he whispers. “Exactly! I swear, this is the worst it’s ever been,” you sigh, placing your head in your hands.

“No!” Nick utters, pulling your hands away from your face. “Listen, we are not going to be defeated by a 2 year old, okay? This is our house, and we’re in charge.” he says hastily as you nod along to his rant. “Yeah, we’re the adults here!” you agree. “Say it!” he demands, “This is our house, and we’re in charge!” you shout. “RIGHT! So where is she?” he asks, walking out of the kitchen into the hallway. “She’s sitting in her playroom room, I turned on Gracie’s Corner. This is the longest that she’s been content all day. I don’t see how you do this, I almost started crying with her.” you say before following behind your husband, and he chuckles at your statement before turning to face you, “You’re doing great, it gets better, I promise,” he praises as he holds your face in his hands, kissing your forehead sweetly, and you smile up at him.

“Well, did you at least put the Gracie video on loop?” he asks, turning away to walk down the hall towards the playroom, with you not far behind. “Loop? What loop? What are you talking about?” you ask confusedly, and Nick stops in his tracks, causing you to run into him. He turns around sharply to face you, his eyes widening. “You didn’t loop it? Babe, you have to loop it because once it goes off she-“ “DADDYYYYYY!” you hear your daughter’s cries from down the hall, and sigh deeply. As you and your husband rush to her, you were stopped in your tracks by her meeting you halfway, her ocean blue eyes welling with tears.

You both kneel down to her level, and Nick wipes away her tears with his thumb, his demeanor softening the second he sees his little girl. “What’s wrong, bunny?” he asks softly. “Daddy, Gwacie went off, I wanna watch Gwacie! I wanna watch Gwacie! I wanna watch Gwacie!” she chants, stomping her tiny feet. You and Nick just sit there, watching your daughter absolutely lose it. “Liyah Jade, c’mon now. Gracie isn’t going anywhere, we can always restart it, you’re fine. Just calm down, honey,” he reassures her. “Okay, can I have a cookie pwease daddy?” she says pouting. “Sure, let's go get you a cookie,” “Nicolas!” you utter in disbelief. “Why don’t you go pick out the cookie you want okay? I’ll be there in a second,” he says to his baby girl as she skips away down the hall. He turns to look at you, shrugging. “Cookies before dinner, really?” “I know, but she was pouting, and c’mon she’s so cute!” he says defeated. “What happened to ‘this is our house and we’re in charge’?” you say, chuckling and he pauses. “Doesn’t really sound like something I would say,” he smirks as he walks into the kitchen with Aliyah, shaking your head at the way she had him wrapped around her little finger.

-

Once back in the playroom, after having cookies and watching Gracie together as a family for what felt like the hundredth time, you noticed that it was getting close to dinner time. You leave the two to continue watching more videos while you go and cook. You decide to prepare something quick and easy. After spending all afternoon with a grumpy toddler, you couldn’t be bothered to make anything more elaborate. As you were finishing whipping up dinner, you could hear Nick and Aliyah in the other room bickering, and you couldn’t help listening. His ability to straight up argue with a toddler never ceased to amuse you.

“But honey, when you make a mess you have to clean it up. Look, we can even make it fun. I can turn on some music and-”

“No, daddy! I can’t want to!”

You couldn’t see him, but you just knew your husband was rolling his eyes. Once dinner is ready, you call for them to come and eat. To your surprise dinner goes smoothly. Usually, Aliyah complains about eating her vegetables, saying ‘I can’t want that! It’s gwoss’, but tonight she ate them willingly. Maybe her missing a nap wasn't so bad after all, you thought to yourself. You glance over and see your daughter yawn for the third time, and you and Nick give each other a knowing look. The ‘no naps’ campaign she had been running was finally taking a toll on her.

-

After dinner, you started getting ready for bed. You gave Aliyah a bath, brushed her teeth, and got her ready for bed. Nick came in soon after to read her favorite story. She cuddled up next to him, her eyelids growing heavier by the second. You watched from the door frame as the story ended, and your toddler now sound asleep in your husband's arms. “Soo, have we defeated Bowser yet, or no?” you say teasingly. “Shh! Don’t call her that!” Nick says as he throws a plushie from her bed at you. You jump out of the way so that it misses you, “I’m kidding! She is cute though, especially when she’s sleeping,” you say looking down at her tiny frame, smiling. “Amen to that, a lot quieter too.” You both chuckle and Nick gets up out of her bed, careful not to wake the little sleeping beauty, before tucking her in, and you each kiss her goodnight.

You tip top quietly out of her room, closing the door gently, and you both let out a sigh of relief. You head towards your bedroom which is only a couple doors down, and start getting ready for bed yourselves, the two of you feeling pretty worn out. After showering and slipping on pajamas, you both plop down into your bed on your respective sides, settling under the covers. “Today went completely different from what I expected,” you confess as you cuddle into your husband's side. He laughs as he wraps his arm around you, rubbing your back softly. “I probably should’ve given you a heads up about that. She is a menace when she’s tired,” “Yep, sounds familiar,” you tease and he pinches your side. “Heyyy! I’m not that bad, and I will just go to sleep if I’m tired, not start a whole ass riot,” he says in defense and you both laugh. After a while, a comfortable silence grows between you and before long you both drift off to sleep.

🏷️: @muwapsturniolo @mattslolita @guccifrog @luverboychris @freshloveforthefit @matty-bear @mybelovednick @imsosillygoofylol @ghostking4m @certifiednatelover @meg-sturniolo @sturniolossss @moonk1ss3d @nickgetsmewetter

[strangernstranger]

Secrets

Eddie x Fem Reader request

Summary: Could Eddie’s good intentions really be the downfall of you both? Tempers rise when reader suspects Eddie has been keeping their relationship a secret as a means to sneak around with Chrissy Cunningham as well.

Inbox is open for requests! ———

“What are you doing?” Eddie crept to the doorway, hearing the sounds of dresser drawers slam.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m packing my shit.” You didn’t spare him a glance, you just continued stuffing your belongings into a bag. Eddie shuffled towards you in utter confusion. He had just made it back from practicing with his band to find you in his room like this.

“HEY hey, why are you- what’s wrong, sweetheart?” Eddie’s brows pinched together with concern. “Talk to me. Please?” He gently placed his hand on your shoulder. You tore away from his touch as if it could burn you. Eddie’s face further contorted into a pained expression realizing he was somehow at the core of this. He hadn’t seen you since yesterday. What could’ve changed over night?

“I’m tired, Eddie. I tired of sneaking around because YOU don’t want us to be seen together.”

“Y/N, I’ve already explained it to you. If you risk letting people know we’re together, you risk everything. You-Your reputation…” He stammered, hoping you would finally just accept that this is the way things needed to be. He hated the thought of you receiving the same treatment he endured on a daily basis. Eddie’s skin had grown thick over the years but he worried how the scrutiny of others would affect you.

“Who fucking cares about a reputation!? Do you really think that shit matters to me? What matters to me is you. But you seem perfectly fine keeping me in the dark. A dirty little secret you hide in your bed every other night.”

“NO. It’s not like that!” He couldn’t believe you’d actually think that.

“Is it like that with Chrissy?” You stopped dead in your tracks, looking at Eddie for the first time since all this started. Your eyes burning holes through the man you once considered yours. You wanted to see the look on his face when you said her name.

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

“Chrissy Cunningham. I saw you two yesterday. You snuck out into the woods and she followed.”

“That must mean I’m fucking her then, right?” Eddie scoffed. “It was a drug deal y/n! She’s clientele.”

“Yea? Do you typically bring clients home with you?” You crossed your arms over your chest to conceal your shaking hands. Eddie’s doe eyes startled as if caught in the lights of an oncoming truck. The realization of how that must’ve came across settled in with the sinking feeling that he was moments away from disaster. “You opened the door and let her right in.” You sneered a smile, watching Eddie grip his hair at the roots. You thought you’d surprise him after his meeting with the Hellfire club. You never thought you’d pull up to see him bringing another girl home. You were disgusted. Eddie sat down on the mattress, racking his brain on how to explain himself, already feeling overwhelmed.

“Y/N…it wasn’t like that. You gotta believe me.” He punctuated the word as if it would drive the point home but you weren’t having any of it. There would be no convincing you. You saw if for yourself. “She was only here for-“

“It’s never what it looks like, is it, Eddie?” You cut him off saving his breath and your own time.

“Y/N PLEASE-“

“NO! Do you really think I’m so naive that I’d take any ol’ excuse? That you can just say I’m wrong and I’ll fall happily into your arms?”

“Will you just shut up and let me explain!?” Eddie shouted, clearly distressed. His legs bounced anxiously. His hands shook in his lap. You were irate. Heat flushed behind your cheeks. It was as if a switch flipped in your brain and you could barely contain your resentment anymore. You thought Eddie was someone you could trust. In fact, you were actually falling for him. It hurt you that he wanted to keep things secret. Still, you were willing to accept that if it meant you could have him. But the thought of him sneaking around with Chrissy Cunningham, the perky cheerleader, Hawkins High’s sweetheart, it broke you in ways you couldn’t imagine possible. Another girl. Another secret.

“Fucking cheat! LIAR!” You began tossing your clothes at him harshly, one by one. Eddie jerked his hands up to block the projectiles. He was growing angrier by the second. Angrier with every harsh word you spit at him. His breaking point was rapidly approaching. “You’re a condescending, lying, prick, Eddie Munson!”

“Yea? And you’re a jealous, fucking bitch!” He finally snapped, rising to his feet. “You wanna say hurtful shit? We can do that. You are so goddamn insecure, it’s pathetic. I didn’t fuck Chrissy. I don’t WANT to fuck Chrissy. I was selling her drugs! That’s IT!” His face was red. The veins in his neck prominent from the strain of yelling. “Can you get that through that little head of yours and cut the know it all bullshit already!?” You stood there dumbfounded. Eddie had never raised his voice to you. Your eyes began to sting with tears.

“Karma is gonna bite you in the ass, Eddie. And I hope to God I’m there when it happens.” You managed to choke out. The lump in your throat grew with each passing second.

“Do you really think that little of me?” Eddie’s voice wavered, pained by your distrust. “You really think I’d spend every second with you I could, introduce you to my friends, give you a key to my house if I was just using you? Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!”

Your body vibrated, tears you tried so desperately to stave off finally breaking free. You wanted to believe in him, but you saw it with your own eyes. Could you really have misread things so gravely or was it all a lie? You couldn’t answer him.

“If that’s really how you feel, then GO! HERE, I’ll help you pack!” Eddie grabbed the remainder of your clothes and furious stuffed them into your bag before tossing it to the floor. “Just get the fuck out of my house.” He turned his back to you, running his hands through his hair. His vision blurring with unshed tears he didn’t want you to see. You choked back your sobs as you picked up the bag. You spoke no goodbye. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

———

You cried the entire drive home, catching glances of your glossy, bloodshot eyes in the rear view. The possibility that you were wrong dug deeper and deeper with every mile that passed. The further from Eddie you drove, the harder his words hit. They played on a loop in your head. You weren’t sure who fucked it all up, you or Eddie but there was no saving it now. No taking back what was said.

Meanwhile Eddie sat in silence, fully taking in your absence. Empty hangers in his closet where your clothes used to be. A vacant space on his nightstand where you used to keep your books. The ones he’d beg you to read to him as he was falling asleep. How could you think he would touch another girl? You were all he ever wanted. The more he thought on it, the worse he felt. You thought he was ashamed of you when truthfully, you were the best thing about his life. He was only trying to protect you. Keeping things a secret was meant to shield you from the cruelty of others. But then he turned around and hurt you worse than anyone else could manage. What you needed was reassurance. Instead he berated and belittled you for being genuinely hurt. He dropped his head into his hands, holding back tears. He had to find a way to fix this but he was sure you wouldn’t talk to him again. Not after what he said. He thought on it all night. Time was abundant since sleep was scarce. Every time he’d close his eyes to rest, he’d see your face. Eyes red. Broken. Betrayed. You two needed to talk about it, but that would take some convincing of course…

———

You dragged yourself out of bed. You combed your hair and brushed your teeth like you always did. You followed the same monotonous routine you followed every morning before school. But things felt heavier than usual. There was a weight on your shoulders, waiting for the perfect moment to break you. Still, you sucked it up and caught the bus. Staying home only meant you’d dwell on things.

Eddie’s chair was empty during first period which wasn’t entirely uncommon but given the events from the night before, you wondered why. Would seeing you break his heart or just piss him off? It was all for the better. Seeing him would collapse the collected veneer you were trying so desperately to uphold. You tried putting Eddie out of your mind to the best of your ability and focusing on your assignments.

Back at Eddie’s, the numbers on the clock blinked red ‘10:07AM’

“SHIT! SHIIIIT!” He had overslept after finally drifting off around 4AM. He discarded his blankets in a flourish and launched himself off the bed, clumsily stepping into whatever jeans were closest to him. He rushed down the steps of his trailer, making a b-line for his van. He had to make a little stop before heading to the school…

He burst through the cafeteria doors, practically breathless. A few students jumped in surprise. Others rolled their eyes, assuming he was up to his usual antics.

“Y/N?” An unintentional shout. The room went silent. Eddie zeroed in on your almost immediately. Your heart beat quickened, eyes locked with his as he made his way to you. You hardly noticed that everyone else was staring as well, watching the scene unfurl. Your eyes drifted to the hand Eddie held behind his back, revealing a beautiful bouquet of flowers. “They’re uh- they’re for you.” Your eyes shined bright with disbelief, on the verge of tears. Words escaped you, so Eddie continued on. “I don’t really know what flowers are good, so I tried to get your favorite colors instead.” Eddie’s smile was nervous, but hopeful. He reached the bouquet out to you. You lightly touched petals colored in violet and magenta. He remembered?

“Th-thank you?” You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture although you were still taken aback by it all. This was Eddie’s first public display of affection which of course garnered an audience for the two of you. Your eyes darted around the room, hearing whispers from the other students. You glanced over to Chrissy, curiosity getting the better of you. There she sat with dreamy, bright eyes. As if she were watching a scene from a televised romance. She looked happy. Happy for you. Happy for Eddie. Not at all like a scorned lover or a burned out flame. Eddie took your hand in his.

“Can we please talk?” His doe eyes melted away at the animosity you felt just earlier.

“Looks like the Freak got himself a girlfriend.” Jason jeered from the jock’s table, laughs following.

“Maybe somewhere a little more private?” Eddie sighed, not even phased by the attention. It was new to you but already insignificant.

———

You followed Eddie out to the football field. The spring air was cool but the sun provided just enough warmth. You sat together on the bleachers. You stared at your shoes while Eddie fumbled with his rings.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He grumbled. He dipped his head low enough that his hair concealed his face. “I just couldn’t believe you’d actually think I would even look at someone else the way I look at you. I promise you, y/n, I swear on my life, we were just making a deal. She asked for something stronger while we were in the woods. I-I didn’t have it, it was back at my place. She caught a ride with me, I gave her the stuff and I drove her back home. That’s all it was.”

“I believe you, Eddie. I’m sorry I freaked out. I feel like such an asshole now.” A tear slipped down your cheek, embarrassed by your behavior from the night before. Eddie lifted his hand to wipe it away.

“Hey, no more crying, okay? Everything is fine now. I don’t blame you for getting mad. I would’ve lost my shit if I saw you bringing another guy home.” You placed your hand on his knee. “Why didn’t you just tell me about the deal before hand?” Eddie huffed realizing that would've saved you both a lot of hurt.

“Um, because I’m an idiot? Selling drugs is a quick way to earn cash but it’s not really something I’m proud of, Y’know? I just thought it would be better if I kept you out of that portion of my life. It felt like I was doing the right thing at the time…but like I said…idiot.” He breathed a laugh, admiring your small upturned smile.

“Eddie? No more secrets. If I didn’t think I could handle it I would’ve left a long time ago. You gotta stop acting like I need to be sheltered from you. From your life. I want this, okay? I want you.” Eddie placed his hand over yours giving it a tight squeeze.

“No more secrets, promise.” He looped his pinky with yours. A subtle gesture the two of you often shared. “I’ll tell you everything. Y/n, I was never ashamed of you. Not for a second. The day you kissed me before that pep rally? I had to stop myself from running across the court and yanking that microphone out of Jason’s hands to tell everyone about it.” You laughed at the thought. “I mean it! No one else makes me as stupid as you do.” Eddie snaked his arm around your waist and moved in close, relieved you would allow him to hold you in his arms again. “But no more hiding. Tell me the time and place, I’ll be there to kiss you breathless.” He buried his face into your neck, smiling against your skin in between kisses. You pushed against his chest, laughing at the sensation. “There’s no one else for me, sweetheart. It’s you and only you.”

[showtoonzfan]

Now I want to talk about Charlie cause good GOD. I never cared much for her in the pilot, I’ll admit that. I always called her boring compared to the other characters because of how developed they were compared to her. However the show takes everything that the pilot build up for her and just made her 10x worse to the point where she’s INSUFFERABLE to watch.

When I got to the very end of the season, I realized that she barley did anything progressive or had an impact on any character, at least what we’ve seen on screen. I understand this was the first season, but what exactly was her arc and what exactly did she do? Nothing. Throughout the season she wasn’t a leader, the most she did was help Sir pen with lessons and have that fight at the heaven trial. In the end they try to act like she overcame some arc about learning to lead and take charge but…she didn’t really. She was helped constantly by people around her, mainly Vaggie/Alastor/Rosie and she never really did anything on her own that was enough to signify her independence as the MAIN character or even the princess of hell. I love how she needed to be TOLD that her girlfriend cared for her…like wow. Vaggie also states that she’s “done so much and touched so many souls”- and all I could think about is how I actually wish we saw that on screen. Husk said she “wants to fix everyone’s problems but her own” and I never got that vibe out of her??? If she was more like Luz from the Owl house where we constantly saw her avoid her own emotions and problems and focus more on helping other people, then it would make sense but guess what, we don’t see any of that because the show is so disinterested in ACTUALLY focusing on Charlie shining at the front and helping people. They scrapped the main premise of her wanting to help sinners and instead used up all the time they had to introduce new characters. It’s all tell and no show as expected.

She’s painted as someone who’s desperate to save her people but when she’s not the focus and actually helping someone, she’s a whiny frustrating crybaby who needs to be coddled or steered in the right direction, and it’s SO hard to watch how her character is treated like a child who can’t do anything. This character has existed for 200+ years canonically but she isn’t written like that. She’s dumb. The fact that she’s such a doormat that she can’t even realize Angel is being abused by Val or even DO ANYTHING about it is fucking baffling, she’s THAT useless. There were so many moments in the show where she could have used her authority or powers to save trouble, but she just doesn’t do it because she’s useless, and I’m tired of people trying to say she’s a pacifist to excuse the shitty writing. She’s also basically Viv’s self insert in a way, an unfunny woman child who’s a hypocrite. Like Charlie is the equivalent of dry white chicken. There’s no seasoning or flavor to her character, she’s SO bland and boring that Lucifer and Alastor end up being more important than her and having more screen time, she’s ATTACHED to them and it really shows, rather than her being at the front. And I know we’re on season 1, but you’d think that Charlie’s childishness would actually be a character flaw and something she needs to overcome and grow up about. But this isn’t really seen as an issue and more of a quirky thing cause Viv thinks being a woman child is funny, the “fuck you you old bitch” scene made me cringe so god damn hard. Everyone has already said it, but Charlie cursing so so forced and unnatural for her character. I don’t like how she’s supposed to be a cinnamon roll but then at the same time swears and acts feral at times. It doesn’t fit.

During the fight scene in the end, she also does absolutely nothing. She made a whole deal about how she wants to defend her people and get back at the angel’s, but aside from throwing Adam and hitting him once, she needed to be protected or saved, Lucifer ended up actually doing the work and it was so hilarious. Speaking of that, Charlie’s daddy issues arc was also rushed, her and Lucifer reuniting and then making up within the same episode was a mistake. Then you realize that her daddy issues was mainly all Charlie had to her in terms of depth and what was explored in the show. I’m so tired of Viv giving her characters daddy issues, it’s getting old lol. But regardless of what Charlie has to her, in general the show just doesn’t focus on her. She’s not the main focal point of the show when she should be. SHE’S the one who wants to redeem sinners, the hotel was her idea. Even tho the pilot was a mess I still felt like she was determined to take the lead due to her beliefs. And yet she still feels like a side/background character who only occasionally gets focus here and there but certainly not compared to the others. The potential is there but due to the favoritism of the writing she’s such an empty and boring character and stayed like that till the very end.

[writingonleaves]

understated, overwhelming (life is always best when you're around) - nico hischier

pairing: nico hischier x self insert gender neutral reader

warnings: swearing, fluff, nothing much else!

title: "float" by HARBOUR

word count: 3.6k

author's note: hi hi hi!! tried something out of my comfort zone with a self insert reader. also tried my absolute best with a gender neutral reader but if i made a glaring mistake somewhere, please call me out! this is my entry for @callsign-denmark 's Luck of The Puck Fic Exchange written for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten !! andi, i'm so sorry this is a bit late but hope you enjoy this little piece as much as i enjoyed writing it (:

~*~*~

You consider yourself a pretty nice person. 

You try to do your day job well, even if your supervisor drives you nuts from time to time. You call your mom every week, even if she thinks it should be more. You always help your elderly neighbor with their groceries if you happen to be outside at the same time. You foster dogs, mainly because your family has been doing it since you were young. 

But right now, as music is booming through the walls that is most definitely not the music you have softly playing on your speaker, you’re not feeling very nice. It had been a tiring day at work and all you want to do is snuggle up in your bed with a book. Whatever rap music is playing through the walls from your neighbor isn’t helping. 

You’re debating about whether you should say something. Firstly, you’re 90% sure it’s coming from the apartment across from you whose inhabitant you actually have seen the least. It’s not like you’re stalking your neighbors, but after living here for over two years now, you’re familiar with the faces. The only thing you know about the person who lives in 1708 is that there are two of them and that they look related. But that’s not even a sure fact.

All you know is right now, they’re getting on your last nerve. 

You scratch behind Boba’s ears, the Jack Russell Terrier you’re currently fostering, and pat his head before you decide that you have to go say something. You gain some courage before opening your front door. 

Turns out, you don’t even have to knock on your neighbors’ door. More accurately, it’s already open as a guy around your age, maybe a bit younger, says goodbye to the guy you’re almost positive lives there. Both the guys’ eyes slide to you and you fight the urge to shrink. 

“Hi,” the guy with his hand on the doorknob says, not unkindly. “Can I help you?”

You blink, “Hi. Listen, I really don’t want to be a bitch, but could you turn your music down? It’s a weeknight and I have to work in the morning.”

To his credit, his eyes widen apologetically. “Shit, yeah, of course. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so loud. We’re about to wrap up anyways.” You wave him off as he sticks his hand out. “I don’t know if we’ve met. I’m Jack.”

You offer your name with a tight-lipped smile before shifting your eyes towards the other guy, floppy hair almost covering the amused glint in his eyes. He’s been leaning against the wall this whole time and he’s really fucking cute. “And you are?”

“Nico,” he nods with a shake of your hand. “I’m also sorry about the noise on behalf of Jack, even though I don’t live here.”

“It’s fine,” you hear Boba’s paws trotting on the hardwood floor and you stick your foot out to prevent him from running out. “Well, it’s nice to meet you both.”

Jack’s eyes trail down to Boba, who's looking at the two new voices with curious eyes. “And who’s this?”

You hold in a sigh, picking up Boba in your arms so he doesn’t start running down the hallway. “This is Boba. You can pet him if you’d like. He loves people.” Jack needs no further invitation and reaches to scratch behind his ears. Nico is a bit more hesitant, but the grin threatening to spill out of his lips has you softening. 

After more pets, Jack apologizes again and you bid them goodnight, ushering Boba back inside and turning off your lights. You hear no music, thank goodness, as you climb into bed.

A few weeks later you’re waiting for the elevator after a walk with Gretchen, a golden retriever who drives you nuts, when Nico runs in just as it closes. You don’t expect him to remember you, but he does, saying your name softly paired with a nod. 

He gestures towards Gretchen, who’s nipping about at your feet. “That’s not Boba, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” you say. “This is Gretchen. Boba got adopted last week.” He opens his mouth but you beat him to it. “I foster dogs. None of them are mine. Just, you know, giving them a home when they need it before they find their permanent home.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

You shrug, because it’s not that big of a deal. To you, at least. “My family did it growing up, still does. So it’s a part of me now, I guess.” You switch the topic. “What are you up to on this sunny Saturday?”

“I, uh, working, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you do?”

Nico clears his throat and now you’re intrigued. “I play hockey. Professionally. That’s how I know Jack, actually. And his roommate, who’s also his brother. We’re all teammates.”

You squint a bit, eyes scanning over Nico’s face before nodding slowly. “That somehow makes sense. That would explain the weird hours.”

“You keep track of Jack’s in and outs?”

“Considering I didn’t even know his name until the night we all met, no,” you snort as you both step into the elevator. “I just hear their door open and close at weird times. So, working today?"

“Yeah. We have a game tonight.”

“Gotcha.” You press the button for ‘17,’ not expecting Nico to lean over and press ‘21’ himself. 

He must see your confusion. “I also live in this building,” he explains. 

You blink. “How long?”

“A little over a year now, but as you figured out, it’s weird hours.”

A beautiful man like him has been living in the same building as you for that long and you haven’t ever run into him? 

You nod, watching the handsome man bend down and coo at Gretchen, who licks his hand, that traitor. You did notice the first time you met him that he was really cute, but you were also really tired and cranky because of the noise. But here in the daylight, with a black beanie tossed over his hair and kindness in his eyes? 

You need to get out of this elevator fast before you say something stupid. 

Luckily, the pinging sound lets you know you’ve arrived on your floor. You give the leash a gentle hug before trying to give Nico a genuine smile. “Good luck at your game tonight.”

You rush out before there's even a chance for him to reply, Gretchen trotting along happily beside you. 

*****

Something that sounds an awful lot like a smoke alarm going off greets you as you’re walking down the hallway to your place after work. It’s coming from Jack’s apartment, causing you to snort. You decide to knock on the door to make sure everything is alright. 

It’s not Jack or his brother you have yet to meet yet who opens the door, but Nico. Over his shoulder, you see someone who looks a lot like Jack fanning a pillow. You do hear Jack cursing and you can’t help but chuckle. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, amused. “You don’t live here.”

“Ouch.” He teases back. “That’s no way to treat a neighbor.”

“I think it’s quite nice of me to check up on my neighbor when I hear their smoke alarm going off, actually,” you shoot back. The playfulness in your voice surprises even you, but there’s something about the brown-haired man that makes you immediately comfortable. You feel like you’ve known him for years, even though you really don’t know anything about him. And you don’t count the things you had found when you searched “jack nico new jersey hockey” after you ran into Nico in the elevator.

(Finding out that you live across from one of the seemingly most skilled players in the NHL and that you also met the captain, another highly-skilled player, was a moment that had your head spinning. You had to shut down your laptop and play with Boba afterwards to get yourself togetherr)

The alarm stops beeping and Jack’s head pokes up behind Nico’s shoulder. “Hi neighbor!”

You can’t help but laugh at his boyishness. “Hey Jack.”

“Everything alright?”

“I think I should be asking you that question. I’m just coming back from work and I heard the alarm.”

Jack grimaced, casting a look back into his apartment. “Yeah, I don’t think dinner will be salvageable but that’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” the guy you presume is Jack’s brother grumbles. 

Jack whacks him across the stomach. “Shut up. This is Luke, my younger brother.”

You nod with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Luke.” An idea pops in your mind. “I was gonna try a new lasagna recipe today. Do you three wanna come over in a bit?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Nico assures. 

But you wave him away. “I never proportion my shit right anyways, so you’d actually all be doing me a favor. It shouldn’t take too long either.”

“Nico’s right,” Jack says. “That’s a really nice offer, but-”

“I won’t set off the smoke alarm,” you sing playfully. That seems to do it, as they laugh. They still seem hesitant, so you compromise. “How about this? Got any vegetable dishes up your sleeve?”

Jack brightens up. “I was gonna make a greek salad as a side before we almost burnt down the apartment.”

You beam. “Perfect. You guys can go make that while I get started on the lasagna.”

Before you can turn on your heel, Nico pipes up. “I can help you with the lasagna, if you want?” He casts a look at Jack and Luke. “I don’t wanna be around in case they somehow mess up the salad.”

The brothers start protesting as you laugh, slightly nervous at the prospect of spending some decent alone time with Nico. “Sure. It’ll probably go a bit faster with a set of extra hands.”

With that, Jack and Luke head back to their place while you fiddle with the key to yours, feeling Nico’s presence behind you. You push open the door and kick off your shoes as he does the same. He surveys your apartment as you hang up your coat. You pat yourself on the back for actually cleaning it yesterday rather than flopping in bed like you had initially wanted to. 

As you start gathering ingredients, you let Nico explore, his eyes darting around your living space. You wonder what he thinks about the pictures you have on your wall of your family and friends, half expecting him to ask about them. But he keeps quiet as you turn on the stove, meandering over and waiting for instructions. 

He’s a good sous chef, all things considered. Not that lasagna is particularly a hard recipe, but there’s something quite intimate about cooking with someone you barely know. Though, as you’re cooking, you tell Nico about your job, your background, how you didn’t necessarily think you’d end up in Jersey but that you’re happy to be here anyways. In turn, he tells you about his family, Switzerland and hockey, though you can tell he purposefully glazes over the latter. Judging from the basic research you’ve done — and whatever praises your hockey-loving cousin drawled on about over the phone yesterday — you immediately conclude that Nico is humble, always turning the conversation back to you. 

It’s quite lovely, even if unexpected. The lasagna is almost done by the time Jack and Luke knock on your door. 

For a few brief moments, you panic, wondering why you thought this was a good idea. What do you have in common with three pro-hockey players? But that panic quickly dissipates, Luke seeing the tiny Ohio State magnet on your fridge (your uncle’s, not yours) and immediately lightheartedly trash talking you as Jack and Nico take over setting up the table and plates. 

You close your front door that night with three new numbers in your phone and an unofficial promise from you to catch a game in person sometime. 

*****

You love Gretchen, you really do, but damn, she’s a lot of work. 

You’re lucky that your job has flexible hours, because Gretchen’s barking would probably drive your neighbors insane if she was left alone in your apartment all day. She’s starting to drive you insane. 

Somehow, she was well behaved at the outdoor market you went to today, so you give her a few treats to nibble on as you go back downstairs to grab everything else. As you’re shutting the door of your car, a bag slips out of your grasp and everything spills out, causing you to groan. 

“You alright there?”

You look up from where you’re bending down to grab your things to see Nico briskly walking over from his car, an amused look on his face. You chuckle a bit. “Yeah. This bag decided just to crap out on me. Luckily, there’s nothing really breakable in there.”

He picks up some bath bombs and a loofah in minor confusion. The furrow in his eyebrows is kinda adorable. “What’s this for?”

“One of my coworkers is about to get married so all of us pitched in to get some spa products. I volunteered to put it together to make a gift basket of sorts.”

He hums, swinging the now-filled bag over his shoulder and walking alongside you as you head into the building. “That’s really nice of you. And a good idea for a gift too.”

“Yeah. To be fair, the spa stuff wasn’t necessarily my idea. I just had time to buy them today and I have a knack for making pretty baskets.”

“I should take some notes,” Nico says. “I have a couple friends back in Switzerland getting married soon and need to get them gifts.”

“You wanna come up and help me put it together?”

Nico visibility hesitates as you two wait for the elevator. “I don’t want to intrude in your plans.”

“I have no plans,” you deadpan. “It’s a Sunday. I’m surprised I even got myself to go to the market today.”

He laughs. “Well, in that case…” he presses the button for your floor, but not his. “Any dogs you got in your home right now?”

“Still Gretchen,” you say. “She’s being extra bitchy today though, so sorry in advance for all the barking.” You guys walk into your apartment, and Gretchen barks once before perching her head, begging for pets. Nico gives them to her and she curls up against him. You snort. “Oh, I see how it is, Gretch. You see a cute boy and suddenly you’re well behaved?”

Nico looks up from where he’s crouched to pet Gretchen. “You think I’m cute?” Oh. Shit. You just glare at him as he smirks, nodding at your bags. “What else are you putting in the basket?”

“A bunch of soaps, a really fluffy bathrobe one of our other coworkers found on Amazon, some candles, these facemasks I ordered from Korea…all the good stuff.”

He watches as you take out the empty basket, some wrapping paper, and a few colorful ribbons. You honestly don’t consider yourself very crafty, but after doing a few gift boxes like this in your life, this is something that you pride yourself in doing decently well. 

“Can you reach into the drawer across from the sink and hand me the scissors, please?” You ask. Nico abides, sliding the scissors across the counter. 

“I think the same, by the way.”

You blink, measuring out the length of the ribbons correctly. “Hm?”

“I think you’re cute too.”

It takes all your control to cut the ribbon carefully before looking up at him. You see him swallow, confident with a hint of hesitation. You look down and try to steady your hands. “Well, depending on how good you are at cutting wrapping paper, I might have to keep you around.”

“Helping you out with dinner that night wasn’t enough?”

“The real test is seeing if you know how to wrap gifts.”

“I don’t.”

You can’t help but snort. “Figures.”

“So, what?” You look up to see Nico giving you a look that makes your stomach flip. He tilts his head to the side, trying to find something in your face. You’re not sure what. “You’re gonna kick me out?”

One side of your lips quirk up as Gretchen barks. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

*****

You and Nico become fast friends. To be honest, it’s not like you see each other all the time, with your normal work schedule and his abnormal one. But more often than not, when Nico asks if you’re around, you usually are. It starts with more homecooked dinners, which turns into trying new restaurants because it’s more reasonable to go with someone else so you can order more at a time, which turns into you seeing some new event happening or shop opening up and thumbing over to your text thread with him asking him if he wants to join. Nine times out of ten, unless he’s on a road trip, he’s free. 

Sometimes Jack and Luke join. Most times they don’t. You’re not offended. Jack and Luke are a bit younger and have their own friends. They remind you of your younger cousins.

The thing is, you just enjoy Nico’s company. You learn about his goals, his insecurities, the things that bring him joy. He’s kind, considerate and so incredibly interesting. You feel so comfortable around him, whether you’re yapping away about childhood stories or in silence walking around the streets of Newark. 

When you finally take up your neighbors’ offer to go to a Devils game after many nagging texts for the Hughes brothers, Nico knocks on your door within minutes, unexpectedly pulling you into a tight hug. You’re taken aback, but his dimpled smile is worth it. 

You take one of your closest friends and have a wonderful time. You’re not much of a hockey fan, but your friend is, happy to talk you through icings and delayed penalties and offsides. Your eyes track 43 and 86 as your friend raves about the “Hughes skating.” But most of the time, you’re eyeing the one with the 13 and the C, who takes a deep breath before every face off. 

For your first game, it’s a fun one, a nail biter that ends in a 4-2 win against the Minnesota Wild. You shoot Jack, Luke and Nico all a text congratulating them on a good game.

It’s when you’re in bed that night do you really thumb through their replies, Nico’s simple heart emoji making you fall asleep with a smile. 

*****

Besides being a nice person, you also consider yourself to have a decent memory. 

Until there’s a knock on your door that has you confused. You put down your tea, petting Moose, the dalmatian you’ve been looking after recently, as you walk to the door. 

Nico looks so cozy, a black Kith sweatshirt with a beanie over his hair. He blinks at you. You blink back. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, amused even if a bit confused. “What’s up? Did we have plans tonight?”

“No, well, not pre-planned.” Nico bends down to pet Moose, who he met yesterday when you guys went to a new coffee shop. “You busy?”

“And what if I was?”

“You’d cancel for me anyways,” he teases. 

And the thing is, he’s right. You sigh playfully. “Fine. Gimme a few minutes to get dressed.”

Nico grabs the leash off the hook. “Moose is coming too.”

“Oh?”

He flicks his hand. “Go get dressed.”

“Bossy,” you comment, before walking to your bedroom. 

It turns out your plans are a newly opened dog park that you’ve heard about but haven’t gotten the chance to check out. Moose is immediately excited, and your heart does something funny when you see Nico calm him down so he doesn’t run anyone over. Nico told you he hadn't grown up with dogs, but you wouldn’t know with how gentle he is with every dog you’ve fostered during your friendship thus far. 

After playing with Moose for a bit, he collapses on the grass, allowing you and Nico to sit and also relax. 

“You look happy.”

You turn to Nico with a smile. “I am.”

“Good. All I want is for you to be happy.”

You swallow and take a deep breath. “Nico.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you whisper. You swear the space between you both has decreased. 

“Because what?”

You huff. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes fondly, staring down at the grass for a few seconds before looking into his eyes again. “You can’t say things like that because then you’ll make me believe that I have a chance to be with you. To be more than friends.”

“And why is that so hard to believe?”

What?

“What?” You ask. 

“Is it such a hard thing to believe?” Nico asks gently. His cologne is filling your senses now and you’re so overwhelmed. “The chance to be with you would be an honor.”

“Nico.”

“What?”

“You’re fucking with me.”

He chuckles, “I’m not.” He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek and you kinda wanna die. “So, what do you say? Wanna give it a shot?”

“Are you sure?”

“Never been sure of anything more in my life.” His confidence is back and it makes you wanna kiss him silly. 

You take his hand and squeeze it in yours. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. Let’s give it a shot. On one condition though.”

“Anything.”

“You’re helping me with all these dogs. I still don’t know how you got Gretchen to like you. She barely liked me.”

Nico laughs loudly. It makes you grin. “What can I say? I must be special.”

You bite your lip. Yeah. He really is. 

You watch as Moose suddenly has energy again and trots between you two, licking Nico’s face. He scrunches his nose in delight and you feel like the sun is suddenly shining brighter. 

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I’m at my desk trying to focus on writing code for our game, but it’s slow going. Distracted by my own thoughts, I find myself staring out the window in front of me more often than not while my fingers rest on the keyboard. Ash sits patient and unbothered on my bed, playing on my Switch while he waits for me to finish.

We’re quieter today than usual, both of us tired and mildly hungover from the night before, but still determined to make some progress today.

I try my best to clear my mind, to focus on the screen in front of me and listen to the music coming from my Lin-Z speaker, quietly singing along and bouncing my leg anxiously to the beat. Every once in a while, Ash chimes in, singing a line or two along with me, and I realize how often I make him put up with my playlist even though he much prefers his own. But I have a specific one that helps me when I work, so he usually doesn’t protest too much.

As I sing the lyrics to Your Silent Face for about the thousandth time in my life, and still never tiring of it, I hear Ash join me in singing the last line, “You’ve caught me at a bad time. So, why don’t you piss off,” and we both chuckle under our breath. Over time it’s become a joke between us, ever since the day he walked up to me at work to invite me out for a drink and caught me singing the line aloud.

I think about that night at the bar often. Sitting in the dark corner, like we were in our own world, nothing in the universe existing but the two of us, talking until the bar closed. I remember how disappointed I was when we were eventually forced to leave, how nervous I was as we stood on the edge of the sidewalk. And I’ll never forget the first time that I kissed him.

I can’t help but wonder where we’d be now if I’d let things continue, if I hadn’t gotten in my head and panicked, if I hadn’t pushed him away. And I want nothing more than to set things right.

As he sits behind me on my bed, I can’t stop thinking about the last time he was there and the words he said to me. I wish I’d handled it differently. I want to take it all back. To tell him he was right. But I don’t know how. Ash is the easiest person in the world to talk to, and yet, every time I think of opening my mouth to say anything I have a deep sense of dread that it will come out all wrong, that I’ll somehow make everything worse by doing so.

“I have a question.” The sound of Ash’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I stop typing, suddenly nervous, though I’m not sure why.

“What’s up?”

“The whole I-don’t-date-people-I-work-with thing, is that for real? Or is it your way of letting me down gently?”

I’m a bit confused by his question. Could he really think I’m not into him and just saying that to spare his feelings? “No, I meant it.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

I get up from my desk and walk over to join him on the bed as I think about how to answer. I hate that I suddenly feel the need to defend an argument that I don’t fully believe, but what else am I supposed to do? Say never mind, I was full of shit? Or actually I’ve changed my mind, let’s forget about it. I can’t do that. So, I give a reason, and secretly hope he makes a solid rebuttal that will give me the opening I need to take it back, “It’s messy,” I say, “Like, if we get in a fight or break up, and still have to work together, it’s just—”

“Messy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay...” he stands and walks over to my bookshelf, looking over it like he’s suddenly very interested in my old worn-out copies of Tolkien books. I have a tendency to reread the same books, the same way I listen to the same songs over and over. I suppose I find comfort in the familiar. Maybe even more so than most. I’m tempted to make a comment about it, but I know Ash well enough by now to know that he’s not interested in the books, that he’s thinking carefully about what he wants to say next, so I wait. Eventually, he turns back to me, “So, if we didn’t work together…?”

“Then, it’d be different.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk as he walks over. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of me, his legs between mine. He tilts his head to the side curiously, “Different how? Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s pretend for, say, five minutes, that we don’t work together.” He leans forward, bringing his hand up to my cheek, his face mere inches from mine, the spices from the chai tea he drank on his way over still lingering on this breath, and I feel a rush of heat fill my face and neck as if the very nearness of him has set me alight.  

“Five minutes?”

“Mhm,” he grins, “Five minutes. What would you do differently?” His eyes take on that playful glimmer that makes my heart race. I know that look. He knows I know that look. And it all goes to my head until all I can think about is pulling him back onto the bed with me.  

 “Set a timer.”

He smiles as he pulls his phone from his pocket, the warmth of his hand still lingering on my cheek as he slides his thumb over the screen before turning it around to show me it’s set for exactly 05:00. “Starting… now,” he presses the green button and tosses it onto the bed.

I waste no time, reaching for him as soon as the phone leaves his hand, and pulling him with me as I lie back. He falls on top of me with a startled laugh.

I don’t have the luxury of taking things slowly, of savoring each second the way I normally would. Instead, I roll him over and kiss him fiercely. Our legs intertwine, and I hold him as close to me as I can, wishing we’d had time to remove our clothes so I could feel his skin against mine.

Our kisses become deep and passionate, and I start to resent the timer counting down, my awareness of it preventing me from fully giving in to the moment. I’m tempted to reach over and turn it off, but I can’t do that, so instead I move my lips to his jaw, following the path of his birthmark and burying my face in his neck wishing I could pause time through sheer will alone.

And then the timer goes off. A series of loud beeps brings the room back into focus, and we pull away, breathless and laughing.

“Time’s up,” I say as I prop myself up on my elbow.

“Damn. I should’ve gone for an hour.”

“That would’ve been dangerous.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Guess you’ll never know,” I laugh as he pushes me away playfully so he can get to his phone, still beeping behind us.

The sounds of Blue Monday coming from the speaker take the place of the alarm as he shuts it off and slides the phone back into his pocket. “Okay, well,” he looks over at me, “you’ve convinced me.”

Convinced him? I suddenly feel as though I’ve missed something along the way. “Convinced you of what?”

“I’ll put in my notice on Monday.”

Everything inside me halts. My heart, my breath, every cell in my body stopping in their tracks. “You’re not serious.”

He shrugs as though what he’s saying is no big deal, “Why not? It’s just a job. I’ll find another one. Question is, is that enough? Or are you gonna make me wait the two weeks until I’m actually gone?”

My body restarts again, overcorrecting and going into overdrive, panicking at the idea of him leaving, of not seeing him every day. Getting coffee, going for walks, eating lunch, telling stupid inside jokes over IM and hearing him laugh from across the room… all of it… ending. “I… I don’t want you to quit.”

“Well, if you won’t let me be both, then I choose boyfriend over co-worker.”

“Wh- boyfriend?” A fresh wave of anxiety pours over me at the word. I mean, I get it, we’re obviously not just friends, I don’t think we ever have been, and we’re clearly incapable of being casual, at least with each other, so boyfriend makes sense, but hearing him say the word only reminds me of how incompetent and inexperienced I am when it comes to real relationships.

“Or am I just a piece of ass?”

“What?! No, of course not, it’s not like that.”

“What’s the problem then?”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say. My head spins, scrambling to come up with something... I can’t let him quit his job just to be with me. It’s too much. And I don’t want to not work with him. But I can’t tell him I want him to stay and be with me. Not after all the time I’ve spent insisting he can’t. Even if I could, I have no idea how to be his boyfriend. Not for real. But isn’t this exactly what I wanted?

I have to find a way to talk to him, but the longer I stay silent, the harder it is to find the words as they get crowded out by the growing chaos of conflicting thoughts swirling around my head like an out-of-control Tilt-A-Whirl.

Next to me, I feel his shoulders slump, and I know I’ve let him down… again. “Right.” He says this as if my silence has told him everything he needs to know. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Atlas," he sighs, "I’m tired of the mixed signals. I wish you could just be honest with me. When you're ready to do that, let me know. But I’m not going to wait around much longer. I can’t.”

I reach for him as he gets up to leave, “Ash, wait.”

But he shrugs me off, “Nah,” and continues out the door.

Once he’s gone, I lie down on the bed wondering how the hell I’ve managed to fuck this up yet again.

Maybe it was stupid of me to think I could do things differently.

And, if that’s the case, maybe it’s time I let him go.

As this realization sinks in, I feel my heart start to break, slowly at first, small fissures splintering, then shattering all at once as I stare silently at the floor, my throat tightening as my body tries desperately to remember how to cry, to give some kind of cathartic release for the pain. But, just like me, it fails yet again.

Prev // Deja vu // Next

[querenciasturniolo]

hello oml ! ive been so scared to ask for something but hey ! here we are ;) i absolutely adore your writing and was wondering if you could write one for chris where the reader, the triplets, and madi go for dinner (all as just friends) and the reader and chris confess they like each other afterwards since they were all really tired :) i think it'd be cute hehehe

late nights ⮕ c.s.

word count: 916

warnings: swearing, accidental confession

summary: the five of you go get food late at night, and your exhaustion has you admitting something you weren’t meaning to say

a/n: oh my god, don’t be scared to request anything ever !!! thank you so much, love !!! i hope i did your request justice 🤞🏻💓

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

“So, where are we going?” You asked, leaning towards the front of the car.

Matt glanced up at you in the mirror just as Chris turned around to face you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Chris asked. You blinked, fighting the smile growing on your face.

“Uh, yeah. That’s kind of why I asked.” You said, Nick scoffing next to you.

“Definitely not your finest moment, Chris.” Madi said, your eyes meeting hers as you laughed.

The five of you were going to dinner, but you were picked up last minute and had no idea what was going on. You were just sitting in your living room in your pajamas, scrolling on your phone when the text from Chris saying ‘come outside’ popped up on your screen. It took them five minutes to convince you to get into the car, and then you were off.

“You do realize if I don’t know where we’re going, this is considered kidnapping, right?” You said, Matt scoffing from the front seat.

“You’re not being kidnapped, you’re so dramatic.” He said, your eyebrows raising.

“Well, that didn’t make me feel better.” You mumbled, leaning back in your seat.

Matt pulled into a parking lot, and you scoffed when you saw the sign.

“You guys kidnapped me at midnight to go to Denny’s?” You asked incredulously. Chris turned and looked at you.

“Uh, yeah. Who doesn’t want breakfast at midnight?” He asked, mocking you from before. You rolled your eyes and stepped out of the car, lightly shoving him when he stepped out.

“Are you gonna branch out, or stick with the french toast slam?” You asked, Chris shaking his head and bumping your shoulder with his.

“Why change perfection?” You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“Jesus, you’re ridiculous.” You said, the five of you walking into Denny’s.

The dinner went by slowly, you growing increasingly more exhausted as time went on. You barely touched your food, going back and forth bickering with Chris for the entirety of the meal. You couldn’t help but tease him, it was your way of flirting. It was ridiculous, the fact that you couldn’t just say how you were feeling. You felt the need to pester, and poke, and bother the person, which was perfect in this situation.

Chris came back at you full force, and you thrived every time. The banter was such a huge part of your friendship and you were so grateful for it. Chris more than likely had absolutely no idea the reasoning for your teasing, which saddened you and relieved you at the same time. As much as you wanted to tell him your feelings, you also didn’t want to make things awkward in the very possible circumstance that he doesn’t feel the same way.

When the five of you got back to the car, Chris somehow ended up in the backseat with you and Madi. Nick was playing music in the front seat, his and Matt’s conversation barely being heard by you. Chris was wedged in the middle seat, leaning the majority of his body weight onto you.

“Chris, get off.” You said through a laugh, nudging him lightly. He whined and went limp, his head landing in your lap. “What are you doing?” You asked, looking over at Madi with amusement etched into your face. She snorted and shook her head.

“I’m tired.” He whined. Out of instinct, you started carding your fingers through his hair. He hummed and relaxed, almost pushing against your hand. “I like that.” He mumbled. You could feel how heavy your eyes were, your exhaustion making you delirious as you hummed.

“I like you.” You said, leaning your head back against the headrest. It took Chris lifting his head up from your lap and looking at you with fond eyes for you to realize what you’d just said. You meant it as one of those middle school-esque comebacks, but you’d definitely just admitted how you felt. Chris didn’t look upset, he looked…content more than anything. It could have been the exhaustion making your eyes bleary, but you could have sworn he was blushing.

“You mean it?” He asked, his voice quiet. You nodded, Chris smiling and lying in your lap again. “Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

You relaxed completely then, your hand resuming its movements through the loose curls.

“Well, that was sweet.”

You looked up, realizing that you were back at their place, Nick had already turned off the music, and the three of them were looking at you and Chris.

“Yeah.” Matt began, turning the car off before turning to face you two again. “It’s about fucking time.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Has anyone ever told you your Mattitude is worse when you’re tired?” You asked, Chris sitting up so you could get out of the car.

“All the time, and I’m actually kind of glad I’m not getting the brunt of it for once.” Nick said, all five of you piling into the house and climbing the stairs. You didn’t say anything to anyone as you dropped yourself face down on the couch, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and covering yourself.

You could barely hear the four of them mumbling sleepily to each other, the only things you could process were the lights being turned off and the soft kiss being pressed to your temple.

“Goodnight.” Chris’ voice pierced through the heavy cloud of exhaustion, sleep consuming you before you could respond.

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Post hoc ergo propter hoc

A con of being friends with the White House Press Secretary, Jyn finds, is that the good-natured hazing in front of the rest of the press room goes on for far too long. Another is that Leia will absolutely not take no for an answer on the “mandatory tour”, even though she clearly doesn’t have time for it, going by the four aides that immediately besiege her as soon as they step out of the press room.

Jyn is sure there will be pros as well, but she hasn’t found any so far.

“Leia, Draven wants you in his office in half an hour about the HUD thing,” says the last of the aides, jogging to keep up with them.

“Thank you, Kate,” Leia says without stopping, her arm still firmly linked with Jyn’s. “I’m just going to finish the tour for Miss Erso here. She’s my latest charge, she took over for Hal.”

“Oh!” The aide smiles brightly and shakes her hand. “Congratulations, ma’am,” she says and disappears down a corridor.

“Four people have called me ma’am today.”

“Get used to it. This is the White House, it’s like a reflex.”  Leia stops to delegate some more important press secretary business in the next office over – Jyn gathers it’s the Communications Office – then returns to scoop her up again and drag her down another hallway.

“You haven’t shown me a thing, Leia.”

“Well, that was Kleya Marki’s office, and down there’s the mess, that’s always important –“

Jyn has a sudden realization followed by a horrible, sinking feeling. “Leia, please tell me we’re not –“

Too late. Leia has spotted her prey at the end of the corridor, and pulls her towards him, smiling brightly and heels unmistakably loud on the polished floor.

“Cassian!”

Oh God. “Leia, come on, he’s busy. It’s my first day, he can –“

“Nonsense, he just looks busy. He always looks busy.” She grabs Jyn by the sleeve and drags her further down the hall. “Cassian, meet the new Post correspondent!”

Jyn stumbles along, feeling like an absolute fool for falling for Leia’s whole spiel and letting herself be dazzled by the West Wing of it all – and for knowing the guy she was stupidly, wildly in love with in college and then left without a word now worked in this building, and still putting off preparing what the fuck she would do when she actually met him again until, well… right now.

The man who has stopped at the end of the hall is in a fairly rumpled suit, carrying a stack of files and looks achingly familiar even from afar. For half a breath, she’s standing in some Yale hallway and is about to run to catch up with him and probably do something silly like try and tackle the papers out of his hands – and then she’s back in the West Wing and they’re all ten years older and successful, serious people again. And she’s back to wondering if he still knows her name. Or if he hates her. And which would be worse.

After a beat, he turns around and walks towards them, with a spooked look on his face like he, too, briefly tripped over ten years of baggage – or, of course, like he’s trying to place someone who looks vaguely familiar. Then something, probably the lawyer in him, takes over, and he fixes an easy, warm smile on his face. She always liked his smile. He looks older, and even more tired than he used to – naturally, he’s Deputy Chief of Staff to the president – but still, he looks good. His hair looks as soft as she remembers, which is a deeply unhelpful thought.

“Jyn.”

She feels stupidly relieved. “You do remember me.”

An offended frown pulls at his eyes. She always did like those, too. They’re such a nice brown, it doesn’t translate on pictures.

“Of course I remember you.”

(To be fair, it probably is insulting to assume he’d forget a girlfriend he had for seven months, but still. He’s busy, and at least it would mean he couldn't hate her for disappearing overnight and never picking up the phone again.) Jyn opens her mouth, closes it again, feels herself blush.

“He keeps your Baba O’Reily piece on his bookshelf, you know,” Leia says with a grin, still holding on to Jyn’s jacket like she’s scared she’ll try and make a run for it. The thought has occurred to her.

“Very funny, Leia,” Cassian says curtly and makes a vague gesture down the hallway. “I… I’d love to – I have the Secretary of Labor waiting, so –“

“It’s fine, I know you’re –”

“We should catch up, though,” he says absent-mindedly, sorting through his stack of files before adding, with a quick look up at her: “Off the record.”

“Right.”

“Maybe just come by my office before you leave, if you’re free,” he says, fiddling with the files that are starting to slip. “I’ll be here, and uh, marginally less busy.”

“Okay, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Um - congratulations, Jyn, on the – I have to go.”

“Yeah.”

Leia watches him dart off, smirking. “So, you two are really over that whole thing, huh?”

[keep reading on Ao3!]

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart - Chapter 5

Now on Ao3

Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Chapter 5 - New Beginnings With Newgate

18+, MDNI.

I realized “Moby Jr” is not canonically in OP. It's from “Oh, Sweet Child of Mine” by mamamittens on Ao3. That story got me down the OP yandere rabbit hole in general. I’m not caught up with current OP yet so sometimes I get things wrong. Please feel free to correct me.

Also, there will be more smut eventually. Just not quite yet. We’re sailing in the right direction. 

You walked down the road robotically, not thinking about where you were walking. You had said your teary eyed goodbye to the Brothers - you really would miss them. Walking, you were flanked by the four men, who were slowing down to match your shorter stride. Ace was holding your things at his insistence. You didn’t feel like talking and they weren’t asking you anything. You were already tired and wanted to nap - you didn’t have much stamina. You’d run through a gamut of emotions and fixed all those tables. Normally the fixing alone would have you snoozing. But you had a feeling there wouldn’t be a chance to sleep for a while to come. After all, it was only early afternoon. 

“Cariña, would you like me to carry you? You look like you could use a rest,” offered Thatch. You blushed a little. Carry you? Like a baby? Were you that pathetic? You still had enough pride to walk even if the offer was a little tempting. 

“Ah, no? Thank you though? We’re almost at the wharf,” you said, pointing down the road. And indeed you were - you saw the Moby Jr. gently bobbing on the water. Once the cobblestones of the street ended and the boardwalk to the docks began, your hands started to shake. It was just a lot. You couldn’t even separate all your feelings of sorrow, loss, nervousness and trepidation from one another. 

Vista, Thatch, and Ace all continued walking while Marco stopped you for a moment. He put his hand on your shoulder and turned you towards him. You looked up at him, feeling unsure and weak. He chucked your chin with one large index finger. “Chin up, it will be OK yoi. You’ll be among friends. Oyaji is intense but he means well.” You nodded silently. You weren’t sure about friends but it did make you feel better that you already were acquainted with a few crew members.

Marco moved his hand to your shoulder and you saw some blue flames leave his arm for yours. You screeched in surprise - was the fire going to burn you? Marco looked down and only smiled, keeping his arm where it was. “Don’t worry, those are just small healing flames from the Phoenix. I forget to control them some of the time.” He tilted his head and asked “are you injured somewhere? They don’t appear indiscriminately. I’ll check you out when we get back to the main ship.”

“O-oh, that won’t be necessary, I’m completely fine,” you said nervously shifting your shoulders under his arm. Marco hummed but didn’t say anything else.

Everything blurred together as you set sail on the Moby Jr. Since the visit to your island was for supplies and partying, you weren’t far from the Moby Dick itself. You felt your eyelids drooping - the afternoon sun was so warm and the sea air so pleasant. You had forgotten that being aboard a ship could be relaxing. You knew you were at your limit and needed to rest. You had a hard time sleeping in front of other people - let alone people you didn’t know that well. And the boat was rather small - it would be hard to find a spot where you felt secure enough and out of the way enough to actually sleep. You poked around a little bit and decided to rest between two of the supply crates they were bringing back. Just a quick little refresher and you’d be all set…

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you heard footsteps stop in front of you. You immediately woke up with a start, in full fight or flight mode. You had always been a light sleeper but now were attuned to any noise approaching you when you were sleeping. Marco was crouched in front of you, giving you a relaxed smile. 

“We’re here yoi. Let’s not keep everyone waiting,” he said while ruffling your hair. You took a deep breath and got up, stretching your legs.

You two were the last ones on the boat and you followed Marco to the deck. The Moby Dick was…immense. You had never seen anything like it. It made the Marine ship you had been on look like a skiff. Marco was waiting next to a rope and wood slatted ladder, motioning for you to climb first. You went up to the ladder, frowned slightly, and made the hand gesture for Fix Fix. Only then did you start to climb the ladder.

“I didn’t think the ladder was broken yoi,” Marco said conversationally while you two were climbing.

“It wasn’t yet. But the rope was deteriorating between the second and third rungs of the ladder. It’s been in use for a while and was getting worn down.”

“But if it wasn’t broken, how did you fix it?”

“Oh, um. I can sense when things need fixing, even if they haven’t completely broken yet. I prefer to fix things before they actually break if I can. Like, I can tell that the screw in the left arm of your glasses is stripped and may fall out soon. It’s an awareness I can tune into. It's really not that interesting. And, um, I can also fix your glasses when we get to the top. If you want.”

Marco laughed and said “Thank you. Such a sweet offer.” Suddenly, he let go of the ladder completely and fell as if in a dive. But before you could blink, he was rising above you in his Pheonix form. You could do nothing but stare. It was absolutely breathtaking. He was the most amazing creature you’d ever seen - or would see -in your life. The rippling blue feathery flames, his golden accents, the elegant way his body soared through the air…He was utterly and completely magnificent. You wanted to watch him fly for hours and you knew you’d still want to see more. He stretched his mighty talons as he flew by. You saw their razor sharp edges and cringed at the thought of being at the wrong end of those weapons.

He landed at the top of the ship, partially transformed himself, and offered you a hand to come over the side of the ship. You were still watching his resplendent form and took his hand. He then changed back completely into a man and said simply “Welcome home.”

You wanted to talk to him about his Phoenix form, but it was hard to focus on any one thing when you were finally aboard the Moby Dick. People were milling about, working, people were calling and waving to Marco, Thatch was already drinking and laughing with Ace…there were so many people moving around, so many things to look at, and your devil fruit was calling for you to fix a million different things. And everything was so…large. You felt like you were a kid again, sitting at a chair that was too big for you and swinging your feet. You didn’t have much time to ponder, because Marco once again put his arm over your shoulders really, a simple tap on the shoulder would do and said “c’mon. Oyaji wants to meet you.”

Marco POV

When you looked up at him at the wharf with your big sad eyes, he almost scooped you into his arms up right there. You needed someone looking after you, and he was ready for a new project. You were like a little wounded bird he could nurse back to health. And just like a wounded bird, once he earned your trust and healed you, you’d be thankful and loyal to him. 

When he saw you tucked away, sleeping on the boat? Oh, the things he’d wanted to do to you. You looked so innocent and serene - and calm for once. He loved seeing you at peace, but it brought other thoughts to mind. How would you react to waking up with his head between your luscious thighs, holding them apart, licking and nibbling as a good morning surprise? Would you mewl quietly like a little kitten or would you be loudly moaning his name as you came on his tongue? Would you taste as delicious as you smelled? He knew he’d find out eventually. 

He loved how awe struck you looked when you first saw his Pheonix form. Like he was a God come to life. He didn’t feel bad about pulling out all the stops, he knew the kind of impression his Phoenix gave. He wanted you to see how powerful he was and yes, maybe to intimidate you a little bit. A healthy dose of fear might help you remember that might makes right on the seas, and you needed someone like him.

He knew he and the others were touching you a lot and that you didn’t like it. It did break his heart a little to see you flinch every time anyone came near you. But touching you was the first step of making you comfortable with their attention. And he needed you to be very comfortable for the kind of attention he was going to give you.

Y/N POV

Obviously, this was Whitebeard’s ship. You knew that. It wasn’t a surprise. But you just didn’t think through the idea that you would have to actually meet Whitebeard himself. Marco calmly walked you towards the rear of the deck. You were nervous, naturally. You were meeting a Yonko and requesting to be let on his ship, who wouldn’t be? You saw a dais surrounded by nurses wearing pink uniforms…and thigh high leopard boots. They were fussing over the largest man you had ever seen, who was sitting nonchalantly on a regal looking armchair. He was powerful even at rest. You wanted to stop moving closer but Marco still had an arm over your shoulders, so you were propelled along with him.

“Marco, welcome back my son,” boomed Whitebeard. “I hear we have a new child coming on board.” Whitebeard turned his attention to you - it felt like being in the center of a hundred flame dials. You started fidgeting, and Marco patted your shoulder with the hand that was already there. You briefly turned your head to the side and saw that other people had started watching the conversation from the sidelines - making you feel like you were being watched in an arena. It seemed news traveled fast on the ship.

“Thank you Oyaji. We found someone in need of assistance working with Vista’s brothers. She just got her first bounty.”

“GRARARARARA, what did you do, child? Congratulations” laughed Whitebeard.

Still fidgeting - pinching your fingers, you answered “I, um, didn’t do anything. They said I was part of a pirate crew but I’m not. I think they just want me back. I didn’t do anything, um, bad.”

“Well, there’s always time to change that,” Whitebeard remarked with a smile. Even though he was large enough to squish you like a bug, he gave you a warm feeling. You felt comfortable speaking to him, even in front of the growing crowd.

“What’s your name, child?”

“Y/N”

Marco added “she’s also a devil fruit user. She has the Fix Fix fruit. Maybe could help us out if we ask her nicely.”

“Is that so, child?” Whitebeard said to you with an indulgent smile.

“Ah, yes,” you said, gaining a little bit of confidence. “I can fix almost anything. I’ve worked on ships before so I’m familiar with the kind of repairs they usually need. But I’ve never been on a ship like this,” you said gesturing in a motion indicating the ship as a whole. 

“GRARARARARARA no one has, child. Welcome aboard.” He tossed his head towards the nurses. “Tate can show you where the women’s quarters are. Settle in, and we’ll celebrate gaining another sibling.”

The crew raised their voices in a raucous cheer, which startled you. You had been focusing so much attention on your interaction with Whitebeard you had almost forgotten they were there.

You were astonished at Whitebeard's words - new sibling? You didn’t know that you were going to stay here on board! Did that mean you were in the crew? Or just that you were allowed to stay? Your head was spinning and you didn’t know what to say, so you said the first thing that popped into your mind.

“Um, thank you Captain Whitebeard. Would you like me to fix your chair?” 

You heard Whitebeard laugh again as Marco took his arm off your shoulders and sauntered over to Whitebeard. They started talking in low tones, with Whitebeard laughing intermittently. Tate stepped down off the dais and approached you with a broad smile.

“It’s nice to have another woman on board, Y/N! I'm Tate, the chief nurse on board. Come along with me, I’ll show you where to put your belongings. And as long as we’re going that way, we might as well give you your introductory physical.”

“Physical? Like, a doctor’s visit?”

“Oh yes. Everyone gets one when they first join. It’s standard practice. And you’ve already met the doctor, Marco.”

You gulped - this was not something you had anticipated.

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts   ━ from various tv shows, part 13

i need a life away from death.

you are so cute when you theorize.

i’m kidding myself to believe you’re really open to being with someone as open as me.

i think it might be too late for you.

not a lot of people wanted to take a shot on me right now.

i don’t date. i don’t even know where to start.

fuck what you wanted.

you have a gun. why won’t you use it?

there she is. there’s the fucking killer.

i’m so done with trying to be more. 

you raised me from the dead.

everyone wanted to get out of here. you at least had a shot.

i’ll figure something out. but i’ll figure it out alone.

i’m uninterested in letting the past define me.

i’m not gonna ask you for help. i’m not gonna ask you for anything.

you know i wouldn’t say no. not to you.

will you two just make out already? get it over with.

we do not have to stay here.

i don’t wanna be me anymore. 

i am so sorry, but i need your help.

i feel like i’m hanging on by a thread here.

this will be so fun. a little slumber party.

we’ve both done terrible things, but we’ve done them for each other.

can’t tell if it’s been 20 minutes or 8 hours.

when it really comes down to it, you’re like… wallpaper.

are you mad at me now?

we don’t have to be friends for me to make sure you’re okay.

don’t you just assume that i’ll go along with whatever you say.

i never really thought of us as a “we.”

if i’m the right person, i think it’s supposed to be easy.

closing your eyes to reality doesn’t change anything, it just makes you blind.

we’re just two tired, shitty people who needed to feel something.

i don’t think he’s ever talked to a woman in a hoodie before.

i’m not gonna make you pay rent. i kicked you out.

you’ve got your own life, and i’m taking up too much space in it.

you can’t rise above something if it’s eating you up inside.

up until 20 minutes ago, i didn’t know i liked you.

i’ve never been confused about the fact that i’m a piece of shit.

does that make her a murderer, or just… quirky?

so i’m not normal because i want to live my life the way i want to?

turns out i’m actually good at doing terrible things to people who have it coming to them.

sometimes taking the high road is overrated. especially if it’s driving you crazy.

you keep coming back alive, don’t you?

if this is you broken, stay broken. 

maybe we can die alone together.

i’ve done some shit. i’m like a monster now. i hurt people. 

i just risk everything, so that afterwards, when it’s done, i just die alone.

you think i can pull off big and violent?

can we just talk for a minute and i’ll fuck off after if you want?

i am realizing i used to think you were kind of stupid.

what the hell are you supposed to do if you can’t close your eyes and picture a better life?

do you ever think about trying to have just a little bit of fun?

i just need to be depressed and alone.

i was in some sort of delusional state last year.

it’s only when you’re alone that the real haunting begins.

i’m just here because i’m so fucking supportive.

oh, i see. you’re funny all the time now.

something great happened to me, and that’s all i care about.

i think you know i think you’re pretty.

from where i’m sitting, you wanted someone to listen and nod and agree with you.

do not fucking follow me.

you can’t live in fear. you gotta be honest with yourself.

i’m always impressed with how you can make nothing to do with you all about you.

we’re in that mutually assured destruction territory now, yeah? 

actually, i just wasn’t having any fun.

just take care of yourself. alright? and i’ll do the same.

we’ll be depressed together because i am not leaving you here alone.

i had a stupid fight with someone.

basically, i was embarrassed.

you blew up my life. was that just for fun?

i’m trying to be less of an idiot now.

if you do not stop smiling at me like that, then i’m gonna have to kiss you. 

are you gonna be this romantic all year?

like it or not, you have a way of bringing people together.

what scares me even more is that i need you.

why don’t we just be scared together?

i think… i think i cheated.

today’s the worst day that i’ve had in a decade.

fuck that, i am not leaving you here.

i’m always ready to lie to an adult.

you’re only honest when it serves you. 

i don’t have the energy to pretend to be nice.

damn, you make it hard not to love you.

sometimes looking the part is more important than what’s really going on.

so if we hate each other so much, then why do we keep ending up in the same fucking room?

i am a walking shit show. i’ve let people down multiple times.

that kiss was just me fucking things up like i always do. nothing more.

there’s so much anger between us. maybe that’s how it’s always gonna be.

you don’t know me like that.

are you always this fucking helpful?

your skin glows like your heart holds a piece of the sun.

do you always change the subject when things get complicated?

[five-rivers]

KoF pollfic continued from here.

Edit: I must be tired because I left the poll off again. It is properly attached now. Forgive me.

.

“What’s that?” asked Danny.  “I don’t mind doing stuff other than translation.”  He loved his parents, but they didn’t always get it.  And, yeah, it wasn’t always ghost stuff they didn’t get (even a normal teenager would rebel if their parents tried to keep them inside twenty-four seven), but it was mostly ghost stuff.  Like why he liked Three Twilights so much, or how comfortable he was around Clockwork.  Or exactly what Obsessions were and how they acted.  

… Even Danny didn’t always understand why he reacted the way he did to certain things when it came to his Obsession.  After all, he’d thought he was managing just fine helping his parents with their research and running the occasional errand for Clockwork until this near meltdown.  Maybe it was a variety thing?  Or the way his parents were so resistant to him helping, lately?  

Yeah.  Yeah, that could be it.  It could be a matter of him subconsciously not feeling like he was being helpful, because they kept telling him to not help.  

Ugh.  Why did these things have to be so complicated?  Obsessions were supposed to be simple!  Straightforward!

Stupid complicated social Obsession…

(Not that he’d ever get rid of it, or even want to get rid of it.  Helping people was so important.)

“Here,” said the attendant, standing from her desk and beckoning him towards an inconspicuous door set in the wall.  “I’ll show you.”

Danny took one last look around the copyists’ room, then followed.  Behind the door was a twisted hallway– No, not a hallway.  The room only looked like that because papers and books were stacked so high on the… desks?  Or were there bookshelves under there?  Either way, it was maze-like.  

The only people they passed had golden loops and curls under their skin, and many of them gave Danny confused or suspicious looks before the attendant greeted them.  This was, Danny quickly realized, the staff area of the library, where only members usually went.  Most of these people probably weren’t even just members, but permanent and semi-permanent residents, if the Lost Library was set up anything like the Library of Tongues.  

“You can probably tell that there’s a lot to do back here,” said the attendant.  “Sorting and all that.”

“Is that what you need me for?” asked Danny.  

“Something like that,” said the attendant.  She scratched the corner of her jaw.  “It’s, well, finding things is much more fun than sorting things out so that they’re easier to find later.  So, we get a backlog, and with the recent influx from the Mausoleum…”  She trailed off, seeming to notice Danny’s glances of trepidation at the stacks of paper.  “Of course, we aren’t going to make you do all this!  This is years worth of files and plans, and… I think some of it is just sheets of doodles, actually.  Some of it is structural, anyway, or otherwise indestructible.”

“Indestructible?”  

“Well, anytime the last copy of something is destroyed, it winds up here, somewhere.  It doesn’t matter if it’s bad or good, or if it was just someone’s meeting notes… if it’s the last copy, it’s here.  Somewhere.  And if the last copy is already here…”

“Oh,” said Danny, understanding.  “I get it.  But I’m still not sure what I’m doing…?”

“Oh!  Right,” said the attendant.  “Well, whenever we get new material, it shows up in one of our intake books.  But those operate strictly on a chronological basis, and they only give the title and author in the original language.  Our card catalog needs the title and author in Middle Chinese, Latin, Esperanto, or English, plus the original, as well as the date of destruction, in order to work properly, so you see the issue.”

“So you need me to make the cards for the card catalog from the intake book?”

“Yes!  That’s it exactly!” said the attendant, making the ‘so cute’ face again.  “You pick up things fast.”

“Uh huh,” said Danny.  

“Now, we’re just around the corner– Here!”  

There was a relatively clear space, with a long counter on one side and a massive wall of tiny drawers on the other.  On the counter rested a set of huge books, each one chained to the counter by a stout golden chain.  Some of them were bigger than Danny.  Well, bigger than Danny in his current form.

“Why gold?” asked Maddie.  “That can’t be secure.”

“It’s probably cursed,” said Danny.  

“Oh, yes, we have excellent security,” said the attendant, happily.  “Or, well, the books do, anyway.”  She went to the thinnest of the books and opened it up to the last few pages.  “Here, this is where you want to start.  You can make the cards in any of the languages I mentioned, and the catalog will take care of the rest.  What else…  Here’s a reference of what the cards look like.”  She handed him a rectangular piece of card with a large dark stain on one corner.  “Don’t mind the stain.”

“Right,” said Danny, looking over the format.  “Where can I find blank ones?”

“Drawers under the counter,” said the attendant.  “Oh, and stay here, alright?  Some people don’t like it when guests are back here.  And it’s also, well, a maze.  I don’t want you to get lost.”

“So, um.  Are you staying here?” asked Danny.  

“Oh, no, I really can’t,” said the attendant.  “I’ll check in on you in an hour or so, and then maybe I can show you the children’s section!  If you don’t want to keep working, that is.”

“Uh huh,” said Danny, dubiously.

“And thank you so much.  We really need this done.”

Danny sat down in one of the chairs at the counter, glowered at the edge of the counter, which was about even with his nose, then got some books to stack up in the seat so he could see over it properly.  Then, he started to work.  

“Why doesn’t their card catalog work with other languages?” asked Mom.  “That seems like an oversight.”

“Four is already a good number for things like that,” said Danny.  He glanced over his shoulder at the wall of drawers.  “If you make something like that too smart, it’ll develop sentience and start to 

“Er, Danno,” said Dad, “why are you doing this?  Don’t get me wrong, it’s interesting!  But not what I thought we were doing.”

Danny sighed, and began the long process of explaining his problems to his parents.

About half an hour in, Danny noticed the quality of light had changed.  He looked up.  First at the ceiling, then around the clear area.  Glowing veins of light traced through the air in one of the gaps between piles of paper.  Veins of light that Danny hadn’t caused.  The ones he’d made on his way in had all but faded.  He frowned.  He’d definitely gotten the impression that there shouldn’t be any other guests here.

Maybe someone had gotten lost.  

Or maybe it was another guest getting a tour or helping with something back here.  Danny doubted all of the guests were translators, after all, and they had to earn their way in somehow.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

go gentle into that good night (j.h.s.)

a/n: as always, this is for my dearly beloved @cottagecori for letting me ramble and explain and talk through ever angsty idea i have ever had.

summary: The tale of two parties

second star to the right (and straight on 'til morning)

warnings: rumored cheating, existential crisis, miscommunication, angst, swearing, alcohol mentions

word count: 1.4k

You always forget how much cooler it is out here by the ocean. 

It’ll still be a few more months before anyone outside of seasoned surfers will brave the darkened water crashing onto the shore a ways out, but for now it’s calm and quiet as the cooler temperatures keep tourists away. 

It's something your friends have taken advantage of as you sit around the firepit, hot dogs roasting and music and laughter echoing all around you. The salt in the air is strong and you lean closer into Jake as a strong breeze runs through. 

The shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the bite of the wind. 

They’re all talking about their next steps, what comes after graduation, and your stomach turns at the thought of confessing that you don’t actually know. 

The conversation you’d had with Pete earlier in the day while you’d waited for Bradley to dig through his parent’s garage for beach chairs plays on a loop, drowning out the words of your friends. 

“It’s okay not to know what you’re doing!” Pete says with a laugh. 

You worry at your bottom lip before sighing. “I just… everyone I know has these cool job offers or grad school acceptances they’re flaunting on social media, and I feel like I’m… falling behind.” You admit quietly. “Is this all I’m ever gonna be?” 

Pete’s face falls at that. “Listen to me. You are incredibly intelligent. You have a very bright future ahead of you, even if that might be hard to see that right now. There are so many people in your life who are supporting you and rooting for you. You’ll figure it out, even if it takes you a little bit longer than others.” Pete pauses. “What are Jake’s plans?” 

You shrug. “I think he’s expecting me to come with him wherever he goes.” 

Pete pulls a face, full of emotion you aren’t sure you understand. “What?” 

He hesitates. “It’s probably not my place, you both are my students-” 

“What?” You insist. 

“I just don’t want to see you confine your future for somebody else. I meant it when I said when you were one of the smartest students I have ever taught. You have the whole world at your feet. And I just… don’t want to watch you give that all up for somebody who might not be with you in five years time.” 

A call of your name startles you back into the present and you blink, realizing Bob is asking if you have any plans for after graduation. You groan, covering your face. “Please don’t ask me that.” 

Jake nudges you. “Don’t you want to go to grad school?” 

“Yes, but I also want to take some time off. I guess, I don’t know. Can we please stop asking me about this and talk about something else?”

Javy lets out a little chuckle. “Hey, worst comes to worst, you can always be a wag.” 

You blink. “A what?” 

“A wag! It’s like a slang term for wives and girlfriends of football players.” 

“So like... a trophy wife?” 

“Kind of-” 

“Machado, you say this like she’d want to be stuck with Seresin for that long.” 

Jake’s eyes narrow at Bradley. “Bradshaw-” 

“Okay, I’m tired of this, we’re moving on.” Natasha cuts the boy off with a roll of her eyes. “Who wants another drink?” 

Natasha begins to pass out more cans from the cooler as you tuck yourself further into Jake. Another shiver goes down your spine as you wrap your arms around you. 

“Are you cold?” Jake asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to go?” 

You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine.” 

Jake nods, eyes searching yours before pulling his arm tighter around you as he rejoins the conversation. 

And I just… don’t want to watch you give that all up for somebody who might not be with you in five years time.

-

The knock at your door is quickly followed by a call from Jake. 

His beaming face in his contact photo appears as you hear him knock again. You answer the call with a click, smiling lazily as you turn down the volume of M*A*S*H* on your screen. 

“Hello?” 

“Let me in.” Jake’s words are almost a borderline whine. 

You hum, pretending to think about it. “I don’t know, I’m doing research.” 

He huffs. “You’re just watching M*A*S*H* again, aren’t you?”

“Hey, it’s relevant to my topic.” 

He huffs again. “Please.” 

You roll your eyes and hang up the call before slipping your blanket and laptop off of you and onto the couch. You pad over the front door of your apartment, pulling it open to see Jake. 

His smile blooms at the sight of you as he stumbles forward to give you a hug. You stumble a few feet back with all his weight pressed against you. “Jesus, you’re a clingy drunk.” You mutter, wrapping your arms around him as you try to find your balance. “You’re supposed to be at Bradley’s party.” 

With the conclusion of the baseball season (and his parents out of town), Bradley had thrown a party at his parents. You’d opted out of the evening to stay home and do homework, which had ultimately ended up with your scrolling through social media and doing very little work. 

Jake hums into your shoulder and you can feel the outline of his smile. “But I wanted to see my girl.” 

“You could’ve seen me tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow me will be hungover.” 

“And drunk you thought it would be a good idea to come all the way over here?” 

“Of course I did. I love you.” 

The words Jake uses makes your breath catch in your throat. 

Not that he loves seeing you or that he loves spending time with you, but that he loves you. 

“Jake, I-” You swallow, unsure of what to say to him in response. 

You’re sure that your feelings for Jake had evolved to love, but you weren’t sure if he reciprocated them and certainly had not expected for him to say them first. 

And you certainly hadn’t expected it to be while he was drunk, whiskey scent strong on him. 

Jake, however, does not seem to sense the gravity of his words as he pushes himself off of you and wanders into your apartment. You shut the door behind him, still feeling a bit dumbfounded. 

“Hey, do you have any- Found it!” you follow him into your kitchen, where Jake is triumphantly holding a jar of Nutella. 

“Jake, you don’t even like Nutella.” The blond frowns at the jar, as if he’s trying to remember if that’s true. “Why don’t you just come sit on the couch with me?”

Jake abandons the jar without a second though, plopping himself down on the furniture. You let out a sigh, feeling all kinds of off-kilter before moving your laptop to the coffee table before slipping back underneath the blanket and holding it up for Jake. 

It takes some shifting and adjusting but he ultimately ends up sprawled out on your couch, head resting against your thigh. 

“This is a good episode.” He murmurs and you glance back up at the TV. After watching for a few minutes, you realize it’s the episode where Hawkeye and Trapper are replacing Henry’s desk. 

You let out a chuckle. “It is.” 

Jake hums against your skin. “I love you.” He whispers on a breath out, so quiet you’re sure you aren't meant to catch the words. 

It makes your heart stop again as you wonder if you’re meant to say them back. 

Not like this. Not when he won’t remember come tomorrow. 

-

The volume of the TV is soft, the laugh track quiet as Jake’s breathing slows. He’s fallen asleep against your thigh, you realize, as your fingers gently card through his hair. 

Your phone buzzes from underneath your leg and you’re careful to not disturb Jake as you adjust to pull it out. You smile softly as his features soften as you begin to scratch his scalp. 

That smile fades as you squint at the text preview on the screen in front of you. 

hey, i’m really sorry to be the one to tell you this but i think it’s better if i tell you before you hear about it from someone else

You frown, feeling your fingers slow in Jake’s hair as you quickly unlock the device, opening it to your text thread with Bradley. 

The bubble pops up a few times as the TV goes to commercial before you mute it entirely. 

When you look back at your phone, your stomach drops at what awaits you. 

there’s a rumor going around jake hooked up with another girl at the party tonight

and i think it might be true

i’m really sorry

[heavyhitterheaux]

Concept for First Lady

"I saved your fucking image."

“Why do we ALWAYS do this?” Jack exclaimed while throwing his hands up towards you, but all you did was attempt to put your excuse of hair into a ponytail because you didn’t know the last time you actually brushed it. 

“We always don’t do anything, you brought it up so I answered your question.” You fired back while looking at the two mismatched socks on your feet.

“I’m trying here so the least you can do is cut me some slack!”

“Jackman, if this is what you call trying to at least attempt to act like you care about this marriage, this is one hell of a poor job.”

“Here we fucking go. Don’t you think that if I wanted a divorce or to separate from you that I would have done it already?” Jack asked and you could tell he was immediately filled with regret as his eyes went wide and all you did was stare at him.  

“There’s still time to go to the courthouse today if that’s your heart’s desire since it’s only eleven in the morning. But let’s be serious I saved your fucking image because come the fuck on, I could have thrown your ass under the bus. No matter how you mistreated me and put your wife, someone that you gave your last name to on the back burner, I still did right by you. As much shit as you did and it wasn’t a secret, it got played out for the entire world to see but yet, I never spoke bad about you ONE TIME. Because as much as you constantly give me headaches, I love you and I do want to save this marriage. But if I’m the only one trying then fuck it. The one thing that really sticks out in my mind is when I actually did fight Anitta and you didn’t even ask me if I was okay, not once. Despite how she had acted towards me ever since she met me. I told you how I felt about her and all you did was ignore me in order to try and boost your career. The career that I helped you create, but whatever.” You simply shrugged your shoulders and tried to walk past Jack, but he caught your wrist and lightly tugged on it.

Deep down, he knew that he had been difficult towards you and it had been hard to process his emotions and Jack did feel some type of way about how he had treated you. He broke the one promise to you when you told him not to ever forget where he came from or the people that helped him get to where he was, but now he had done the exact opposite and the fame had got to his head.

It took him hearing it from his mother to finally realize it.

“Y/N…. wait a second.” 

All you did was turn to look up at him and let out a deep sigh.

“I promise to do better and do right by you….. And them. I’m sorry I just…. I know for a fact that I have to be better about expressing how I feel towards you and a few months ago, I thought that I was going to lose you forever. Please don’t ever think that I don’t love you because I do. I love you more than life itself and just for the past year I haven’t been the best husband that I could be and want to get back in your good graces and fix this. I’m tired of us fighting and we have three little ones that don’t need to grow up in a dysfunctional household. You know for a fact that divorce would never be an option for me on my end. I was serious when I asked you to marry me at nineteen and I’m still serious now.”

“It’s not just us anymore and they should always be your first thought.” You quietly said as you could hear through the baby monitor that they were awake.

“I’ll…. Go make an appointment with Fatima after I check on them.”

The two of you had been seeing a marriage counselor named Fatima and you could tell that she was genuine and also wanted the best for the two of you.

“That sounds like a good idea.” You quietly answered as you simply hugged yourself in your pink oversized sweater that Jack bought you years ago, not bothering to make eye contact with him.

“We’re going to get through this, baby. One step at a time.” Jack quietly said as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

All you did was nod in response as you sat down on the bed and simply stared off into space. 

Jack simply sighed as tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he walked out of your shared bedroom and was on his way to the triplets room when he pulled out his phone to do a quick google search.

He knew that something was wrong. 

What are the signs of postpartum depression?