#it is. so broken on my side. tumblr pls

[eyesoftxmorrow]

do we fw the new layout chat

[boydepartment]

so cute - anton lee x reader

a/n: DONT LOOK AT ME RN…. okay i’m having a moment shut up i can’t sleep. this is completely self indulgent and writing for fun so whooooooops

warnings- none just fluff and goofy. idol! anton. photography major! reader. (i am not a photography major so pls um bare w me) THIS IS ALSO REALLY CLICHE SO I AM SORRY i also have no idea what tags to use :( so if you are on riize tumblr PLS HELP ME IN MY INBOX WITH TAGS

wc- 250-300

MASTERLIST

when you sat down after you ordered you got all your stuff organized. you had a plan to meet your friend to study together at a small but sweet boba shop. a lot of college students would come and go and half the fun of studying was procrastinating and choosing to people watch instead.

your friend was late and so you were left to fend for yourself. which was okay, it didn’t bother you. you got a little lost in thought and didn’t even notice the gaggle of boys walk in.

you didn’t even notice when the second cashier called up your order and you skipped over to pick it up. it tasted sweet and made you smile.

the way you set up your table looked really nice so you took a couple steps away from your chair to take a photo, not for class. just for fun.

your notes and laptop looked like those aesthetic posts on pinterest and the view outside the window was not the worst for a parking lot. you looked down at your phone and frowned, maybe the flash would help?

you went to get in position again when a guy totally bumped into you. sending both of you crashing onto the floor!

when you sat up you saw all his friends almost sprint out of the shop laughing, you looked down, eyes widening.

“i’m so sorry! here let me help you up!” you stood up and put your hands out. he was quiet and took your hands. you bent over and picked up his thankful pre-poked boba, nothing spilled thank goodness!

“are you okay?” you asked, handing his drink to him. it was a little hard to tell or read him as he was wearing a mask, there was only so much you could read with his eyes.

your head turned to the side trying to get an answer out of him. eventually he snapped out of whatever daze he was in. did this boy hit his head too hard?

“it was my fault! i was walking backwards while talking and i didn’t see you i’m sorry…” the boy was very soft spoken and it took you by surprise. a lot of people you met in college were a little outspoken.

you smiled at him, hoping to lighten the mood, “it’s okay it was an accident!”

“you fell pretty hard on your knees, are you okay?” he asked, noticing that they looked pretty scuffed.

“oh! i’m okay. don’t worry about it.” you went to grab your bag which softened the blow of your fall.

“is your phone okay? if it’s broken i can help pay for the damages…”

that was sweet of him…

you looked at your phone and saw the crack in the screen protector, “it’s a little cracked but it’s just the screen protector! it’s fine! if anyone asks i can tell them about this.” you laughed a little and looked at him again, “my friend’s gonna wish she wasn’t late…!”

you heard the boy laugh a little, “i still feel bad for tripping over you and ruining your photo, can i do anything to make up for it?”

“there’s no need to feel bad!” you said quickly- waving you hands back and forth, “again it’s totally okay. you should probably get back to your friends though… they kinda ran off.”

you saw him look outside the window, scoffing a little, “i’m going to choose to ignore them.”

this made you laugh, it was a total 180 from his voice, it was cute.

“i’m y/n. i figure since we’re having a conversation it’s appropriate to introduce myself, since you’re not just falling over me and dipping.” you stuck your hand out again.

he looked at your hand and shook it, “anton.” his eyes curved which told you he was smiling. cute.

“um… your friend still isn’t here… can i sit with you?”

you nodded, might as well, it wasn’t like you were studying. he happily took a seat next to you.

“you’re in college right?”

you nodded, “mhm! photography major!” you opened a file and scooted your laptop to him. anton looked through your photos almost amazed.

“i’m trying to put together my portfolio right now actually. i’m hoping i’ll get a job soon.” you explained, leaning your head on your palm.

he practically perked up at this, “my friends and i need a photographer for our next show!”

“show?”

“ummmmmmmmmm.” anton scratched his neck, “yes. show. music. yaknow….”

you smiled, “honestly, if it pays well, i’d love to.”

he looked at you and nodded, really enthusiastically. you felt pride bubble in you for someone being so impressed by your work to offer you a job.

“can i get your number to get the details?” you asked, unlocking your phone, he was cute and even if the job didn’t work out, maybe a date would. you could hear his phone buzzing rapidly.

anton nodded again and put his information in, “text me your name n stuff and i’ll answer i promise.” he stood up, “i really need to get back to my friends they’re blowing up my phone… even though they ditched me…”

you laughed again, “no problem. i’ll text you!”

“yeah!” he was walking away from you smiling when he ran into the door awkwardly. almost like the scene of a movie. it was so cute.

he was so cute.

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part IX (act I)

Word count: 11,504 Warnings: Blood/injury, violence, death, animal death, temporary dismemberment, dissociation, self-deprecating thoughts (not really, Jimmy’s just a listener and doesn’t know it), strong language, fictional racism/xenophobia, panic attacks 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 took a ridiculously long time to write and got way longer than I’d originally intended so uhhh happy belated holidays? There’s a lot in this one that I’m excited to show y’all so I really hope u enjoy it, pls reblog/comment if u do, it means a lot.

Also this chapter has been split into two parts bc Tumblr is a hoe with a paragraph limit, link to the second half at the end. And as always, this is part of a series, so the previous chapters can be found on my au directory here. - Aqua

~*~

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

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, a player kneels in a bloody wheat field.

Jimmy’s senses are flooded with iron. He’s regenerated enough health that his nose isn’t actively bleeding anymore, but he’s sure it’s still all over his face. As he finally pulls away from Tango, he realizes he’s smeared plenty of it on Tango’s shoulder. The blood on Tango’s chin and claws hasn’t fully dried yet, either. And through his slightly parted mouth, Jimmy can see it’s stained his teeth.

(Did you see what he did back there?)

(He was like an animal.)

(How long do you think he’s been keeping that in?)

Jimmy pushes the thoughts away. Focus on the here and now.

To be fair, though, the ‘here and now’ is a horrible place. The ranch is burning behind them. His eyes are burning from the tears and the smoke in the air. His throat feels tight and scratchy. He’s physically and emotionally exhausted, the weight of it dragging him down, sinking into the trampled soil beneath him. The singed edges of his wings are still stinging, but it’s an easily forgotten pain among everything else.

Jimmy hates crying. Especially in public. Really, nothing makes him feel more useless and pathetic than crying. But he has to admit, he’s at least a little calmer and more clear-headed. Now that he’s cried himself out, his awareness is gradually returning to the conversation going on around him.

“What in’a world was that about?!” Bdubs cries out, sounding absolutely flabbergasted.

“Yeah, who were those guys, anyway?” Etho asks, knitting his brows together. “How’d they get here?”

Joel makes a distressed noise. “They shouldn’t be able to open a portal here, this is a private world!”

“I know, I know, okay,” Grian gripes, “I’m workin’ on it. Hang on-”

“And what was all that nonsense about doggelpangers?” Scar pauses. “Uh, dop- doppabang-”

“Doppelgängers?” Cleo calls over wryly.

Scar hangs his head. “Dang it. Yes, that.”

“I dunno, but what if they come back?” Joel asks nervously. “What should we do?”

Isn’t that the question?

Jimmy takes quick stock of his surroundings. Grian is standing a little way’s off from Jimmy’s huddle, head bent down as he furiously scrolls through his communicator, the screen reflecting in his tinted glasses. Scar is hovering next to Grian, peering keenly over his shoulder, his bow held limply at his side. Both of them look a little roughed up from the battle, but alright for the time being.

Etho, still crouched at the spot where Bravo died, is searching through the dropped items. Joel is pacing in front of the broken portal frame and casting anxious glances at it, one hand gripping his sword while the other rakes through his hair, antennae twitching with agitation. There are a few scrapes and gashes between them- mostly superficial and likely to heal on their own.

Pearl’s wolf pack has been considerably thinned out- something Jimmy notes with a pang of guilt- but there’s still plenty of them milling about the place. With blood-matted fur and tucked tails, it’s clear they took a beating. Pearl herself must’ve gone, from the way they sniff and look around aimlessly, giving plaintive yips and whines. Scott is conspicuously absent as well, another hint as to the bonded pair’s fate. Jimmy’s sure they’ll be along soon.

Bigb and Ren are also nowhere to be seen- likely more casualties of the battle. Ren makes for a rather large target when in wolf mode; he probably drew a lot of enemy fire. And of course, Bigb would’ve gone with him. Box is quite a way from the ranch, Jimmy recalls, so it’ll take them a few minutes to get back.

Martyn is busy mining up the rest of the portal frame, seeming none the worse for wear. Cleo sits a couple yards away, one leg stretched out in front of her. The other one has been chopped clean off at the knee, and is clenched in their hand- but wait, it does that sometimes, Jimmy reminds himself before he can panic. The detached limb isn’t even bleeding, and she’s already pulling some string from her inventory to stitch it back on, seeming more inconvenienced than anything else.

Bdubs, across the field, looks no more beat-up than he always does. He’s fussing over his horse, snatching up stray bits of wheat to heal as it struggles to get its legs under it. Impulse’s horse, devoid of rider, has wandered off towards the barn- perhaps hearing the other horses inside. Impulse himself is crouched beside Jimmy and Tango, his golden eyes intently studying the collar that’s been locked around Tango’s neck.

Tango is still completely silent. He doesn’t move or give any indication that he’s at all mentally present, just kneeling idly in the dirt, expression blank, eyes distant. Nothing but static through their soul bond. He doesn’t seem to be seriously injured- most of the blood stains aren’t his. That realization isn’t as relieving as Jimmy wants it to be.

Grian clears his throat. “Right. First thing’s first, are we all still here?” he asks, scanning his communicator. “No one went through the portal?”

“Nah, all good,” Martyn calls over his shoulder as the final obsidian block pops onto the ground.

Etho has his communicator pulled up too. “Yeah, uh, just looks like Scott and Pearl got killed,” he reports. “Ren and Bigb, too. I’ll shoot ‘em a message, see if they’re alright.”

“Right, okay.” Grian chews his lip, wings ruffling. “And all the other fellas are gone?”

Etho nods. “Yep.”

“Okay-”

“G,” Scar cuts in, tugging on Grian’s sleeve, “you gotta respawn before that injury sets in.”

Grian shrugs him off. Only now does Jimmy realize he’s holding one of his wings closer to his body than the others, the one that took an arrow during the fight. “Gimme a second-”

”Um, guys?” Martyn says suddenly, pointing at the ranch. “Fire tick is on, yeah?”

Grian looks up at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Hoo boy. Yeah, we need’ta get a ditch around the ranch, okay, or else the whole forest’ll go.” He casts a sidelong look at Jimmy, expression apologetic. “Tim, do you mind…?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No,” he says hoarsely, “no, no, by all means. Whatever you need to… oh gosh, it’s all gonna go. It’s gone, isn’t it? It’s-” His voice breaks, and he quickly looks away, fresh tears welling in his eyes.

It wasn’t much, the ranch.

Only two floors- three counting the basement- and a bit tight on space. It wasn’t the most impressive build, not by a long shot. Certainly not when compared to the other builds on this world. It was something that would’ve taken two actually competent builders nothing more than a dedicated afternoon to put together. Plainly decorated, and comprised mostly of wood and stone variants. Nothing that’s particularly hard to obtain. And in all honesty, it was just a starter base; they were going to outgrow it sooner or later, anyways.

But it was theirs. 

It was the scorch marks in the wood from Tango’s blaze rods, in the moments where his emotions got away from him. It was the rocking chair where Jimmy liked to do his embroidery, when he needed to unwind after a busy day. It was the auto-sorting storage room that Tango spent weeks fine-tuning. It was the small but cozy living room that Jimmy decorated with potted flowers. It was the kitchen that always smelled faintly of charcoal, and the wool rug in the foyer that came from their own sheep, and the bedroom that they shared with an east-facing window to let them watch the sunrise together, on the rare days when Tango was awake early enough to see it.

The ranch is burning, and there’s nothing Jimmy can do about it.

(Great. Gonna start crying again, are you?)

(What exactly is that going to accomplish?)

(Man up! Don’t be so pathetic.)

A gentle hand on Jimmy’s shoulder makes him look up. Martyn is there, sympathy glimmering in his eye. “We’ll save what we can,” he promises.

Jimmy manages a grateful smile, blinking away his tears. “Thanks.”

Martyn nods before straightening back up. “Etho, Joel, you got water buckets on ya?”

“Oh, yeah.” Etho puts his communicator away as he and Joel start toward the ranch, buckets in hand. “Yeah, here, let’s make an infinite source..”

“Right. I’ll get the ditch started, then,” Cleo chimes in, rising to their feet now that both legs are once again intact.

Grian makes an appreciative noise, still tapping away at his communicator. “Okay, so that’s done-”

“Grian,” Scar says again, more insistently. “You gotta-”

“Hang on!” Grian huffs. He looks up to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “Okay, so uh, I can’t ban them… but what I’m gonna do is lock the world down,” he explains, taking a few steps over. “No one goes in or out… not even through a backdoor portal. This is just a temporary solution, but it should do the trick for now.”

Relief washes over Jimmy. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

(Good thing Grian is here to clean up your mess, huh?)

“Hey, guys?” Impulse speaks up, making Jimmy startle. “Um, Tango… he’s not lookin’ so good.”

That’s putting it kindly. Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Right. We should prob’ly get him inside, um…” He trails off as he instinctively looks at the ranch, which is on fire.

Right.

Impulse gives him a comforting look. “C’mon, you guys can crash at our place.” He rises to his feet, calling out, “Bdubs, would you bring the horses over?”

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Bdubs shouts back. He’s finally gotten his horse standing again, glancing around for Impulse’s. “C’mere, stupid- hey! No, don’t wander off…”

“You finished, Grian?” Scar asks impatiently, notching an arrow.

“Okay, okay, hang on…” Grian presses a couple more buttons before putting his communicator away. “There, it’s done. Now, I’m gonna do some diggin’ and see what I can find out about this. But, um…” His gaze sweeps over Tango, expression pinched. “As soon as Tango is up for it… we all need to have a serious chat, okay?”

The wording immediately puts Jimmy off. He can feel his feathers bristling, his wings flaring out almost unconsciously to block Tango from view. “Wh- hey, this wasn’t his fault!” he protests.

Grian holds his hands up. “Ey, I know, I know,” he says lightly. His lower wings sweep out and flatten into a sort of fan as he crouches; an appeasing gesture. “None of us think that, okay? But clearly those guys came here for him, so we need’ta figure out why and how if we’re gonna figure out how to stop it from happenin’ again. Alright?”

Jimmy takes a breath, letting his feathers smooth over again. “Right. You’re right, sorry,” he mumbles.

(Wow, so defensive.)

(Like you could protect him, anyways.)

(Have you no faith in your own friends?)

Grian glances at Impulse. “You got them, Impulse?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Impulse assures him.

Scar draws back his bow. “Any day now, Grian…”

“Okay.” Grian turns around with an exasperated sigh. “Alright, Scar-”

He disappears in a puff of respawn smoke. Scar immediately follows him, his bow clattering to the ground amidst the shower of other items.

Impulse exhales in what might’ve been a laugh, if he didn’t sound so tired. He turns to Jimmy. “Can you stand?” he asks, holding out his hand.

(Look, they all think you’re weak, too!)

Jimmy feels himself flush. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, his tone short. Ignoring Impulse’s hand, he struggles to his feet unaided, wings flapping about to help keep his balance.

And then he feels incredibly silly about it. These are his friends, for goodness sakes.

“Thanks,” Jimmy adds, to soften it. “But Tango, I dunno if he… I mean, normally I’d carry him, but right now, I think- I think I’d drop him,” he confesses. Already, the effort of just standing on his own is starting to fatigue him.

Impulse just nods, a knowing look in his eye. “Yeah, no problem.” Slowly, he crouches down next to Tango again. “Hey, Tango, buddy?” he calls softly. “Can you hear me? It’s Impulse. I’m gonna pick you up now, if that’s okay?”

Tango doesn’t respond. Carefully, Impulse gathers Tango into his arms in a cradle hold- which Tango doesn’t react to besides curling in on himself a little more. His breathing quickens for a few seconds before he settles down again.

“Sorry,” Impulse whispers.

Jimmy swallows. He’s never known Tango to be so quiet, so still. It’s incredibly disturbing to see. And gosh, he knows Tango’s pale, but right now he looks about as white as quartz.

The events of this afternoon were a lot for anyone to handle. Jimmy’s still only working with bits and pieces, of course. He knows that Tango originally came from a terrible world called Hels, escaped from that creepy scientist guy Dr. Atlas, and has been hiding out on Hermitcraft ever since. So it’s not surprising that Tango got a nasty shock when his past suddenly came knocking at his door- literally, in Bravo’s case.

But Jimmy also knows that Tango is quite tough. He’s not the type to shut down in the face of hardship- in fact, he’ll often go the opposite direction, with manic bursts of frantic energy. So for a reaction this extreme… either that collar they put on him is having a more drastic effect than Jimmy realized, or there’s something more to the story he isn’t aware of.

Before the collar dampened their soul bond, the fear Jimmy felt from Tango had been damn near overwhelming. What could those Hels players have done to him to elicit such a strong reaction? Jimmy dreads to think of it.

The sound of hoofbeats pulls Jimmy out of his musings.

“Here I am!” Bdubs announces loudly, leading a horse by each hand. “Got the hawsies all ready t’go- oh, hey, waugh- what happened to him?” he gasps, his horrified gaze falling on Tango, wide eyes going even wider. “Wha’ th- is he okay?!”

Impulse gives him a tired smile. “Bdubs, I know we’re outside right now, but indoor voice, please? I’ll explain later.”

“Oh, okay!” Bdubs immediately drops into a stage whisper, ducking his head sheepishly. “Right, right, right, right, right, sorry.” He eyes Tango nervously for another moment. “Jeeze, they really… okay, okay, okay, right. Let’s go.”

With an appreciative look, Impulse moves beside one of the horses. Shifting his hold on Tango, he hikes one foot up into the stirrup and swings onto the horse’s back, forked tail lashing through the air.

Bdubs follows suit, climbing onto his own horse before glancing down at Jimmy. “Uh- you wanna ride wi’ me, Jimmy?” he asks, still whispering.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Jimmy says gratefully. Just the thought of walking or flying to their base makes him feel like all his bones have turned to slime.

His own attempt to get on the horse doesn’t go anywhere near as smoothly. With someone else already in the saddle, it’s a clumsy maneuver, his flailing wings more of a hindrance than anything. In the end, Bdubs grabs the back of Jimmy’s shirt and helps haul him up. That only makes Jimmy feel worse. Bdubs is so much smaller than him, how did he manage that?

“Okay…” Bdubs glances over his shoulder as Jimmy gets settled. “You alright back there?”

“Yep, yep, I’m good,” Jimmy says quickly. He clears his throat. “Can we- can we get goin’?” He’s anxious to leave this depressing scene behind and get Tango someplace calmer.

Bdubs nods. “Okay. Uh- hang on tight, and you’d better keep those wings folded or else you- you’ll be blown right off’a this thing!” He turns to Impulse. “We go now!”

“Alright, let’s go.” Impulse urges his horse forward, and Bdubs swiftly follows.

The horses gallop away from the ranch.

Jimmy does as he’s told, leaning forward to put his arms around Bdubs’s shoulders and tucking his wings tightly against his back. The jostling of the horse’s stride isn’t kind to his aching muscles and bones, but he’s not about to complain. Right now he feels completely out of sorts- like a stranger in his own skin.

As exhausted as his body is, his mind is absolutely racing. He can’t stop thinking about what Bravo said, that Tango was to blame for his being in Hels. And Tango hadn’t really denied it.

From what Jimmy can recall from today’s chaotic events, Tango used to be in Hels, and then a portal appeared. He went through it to Hermitcraft, and somehow, that got Bravo sent to Hels. That seems to be the conclusion they’ve come to. And Tango didn’t know about it at first, but he’s known about it for a couple years at this point, and said nothing.

(How selfish of him.)

But it wasn’t Tango’s fault! He didn’t intentionally send Bravo there, and he only kept his knowledge secret because he was afraid he’d get sent back himself if he revealed the truth. That’s… really upsetting. If Tango didn’t trust the Hermits enough to tell them, after spending nearly a decade getting to know them, it’s no wonder he didn’t tell Jimmy.

Has Tango spent this whole time feeling like a fugitive in his own home?

And what is Hels, really? What kind of world doesn’t allow portal travel in and out? The way they’d spoken about it, it almost seemed like a prison. But created by who? And why?

What exactly is a Hels player? What does a ‘doppelgänger’ entail, exactly? Because if Tango is supposed to be an evil version of Bravo, Jimmy is clearly missing something, ‘cause he doesn’t buy that for a second.

Do all players have a Hels counterpart? Does Jimmy? Oh, now there’s a disturbing thought. Is there another Jimmy running around in a prison world somewhere, locked away from the rest of the universe?

Now that he’s aware of the possibility, he isn’t sure this is something he can just forget about.

But he knows his questions will have to wait. Tango is hardly in the condition to be discussing any of this- getting him recovered from his shock is Jimmy’s first priority. He’s about to ask how far away they are when two figures appear in the distance.

It’s Scott and Pearl, on the way back from their respawns. Pearl is preoccupied, intensely scanning her communicator as she walks. But Scott spots them immediately, nudging Pearl with his elbow and lifting a hand to wave them over.

Impulse glances over his shoulder at Bdubs and Jimmy. “Guess we’d better go see what they want,” he says as he steers his horse towards the pair, Bdubs following suit.

Pearl looks up at their approach. Her respawn must’ve taken care of any injuries she sustained from the battle, because she seems like her usual red-eyed self. But there’s an unmistakable air of anxiety about her- one that Scott seems to share, based on his terse expression.

“Impulse!” Pearl shouts, as soon as she’s within proximity hearing range. “You seen Tilly ‘round?”

Impulse eases his horse to a stop. “Oh, uh- she’s the one with the dyed collar, right?” he asks, knitting his brows together. “Yeah, yeah I’m pretty sure she was back at the wheat field.” 

Pearl exhales heavily. “Oh, thank goodness. I- I lost so many dogs, I wasn’t sure…” She puts her communicator away, looking them up and down. “So uh, is everyone alright? Are… you guys alright?” she asks uncertainly, quirking a brow.

“We’re fine,” Impulse assures her easily. He jerks his head back in the direction they came from. “The others are dealing with the ranch right now, it’s uh… it’s a pretty big fire, I’m sure they’d appreciate some help.”

Pearl follows his gaze, eyes widening at the plume of smoke still visible above the trees. “Oh gosh, yeah, we’d better get goin’, then.”

“You alright, Timmy?” Scott speaks up suddenly. 

“Huh?” Jimmy startles at being addressed. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Mmm.” Scott doesn’t look convinced, his sharp eyes studying Jimmy’s face before flicking over to Tango. “Is Tango alright? Where’d tha’ thing on his neck come from?”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “Um…” He isn’t sure how much he should be sharing with the others, while Tango’s incapacitated like this.

Luckily for him, Impulse cuts in. “Don’t worry,” he says gently, “we’ve got it covered. You guys go check in with the others, okay?”

It’s not a very subtle hint, but Scott allows it. “Alriiiight,” he drawls, holding his hands up. “Just remember you’ve got help if y’want it.”

“I appreciate it,” Impulse hums, but Jimmy catches the flash of relief in his eyes as he turns his horse away.

“Yeah, ‘preciate ya!” Bdubs echoes as they ride off.

They ride in silence for a few moments, until they’re out of proximity range, before Impulse clears his throat. “I just think Tango would appreciate some privacy right now,” he explains quietly. “You know everyone else- they’d all want to help and see if he’s okay, but a big group would probably freak him out.”

“Ah.” Jimmy nods. “Good thinkin’.”

(Gee, Impulse is really taking charge, huh?)

(You’re basically useless.)

(He would’ve been a way better soulmate for Tango than you.)

The thoughts make Jimmy flinch. He hasn’t often felt insecure in his relationship with Tango, despite having known him for a much shorter time than the Hermits. But right now, his general lack of knowledge and experience in how best to help Tango has become glaringly obvious.

Thankfully, before he can spend any more time feeling sorry for himself, Impulse and Bdubs’s house finally comes into view.

They’ve added another floor since Jimmy was last here. Floor-to-ceiling windows made of light gray panes curl around one side of the building, continuing with the sleek mid-century modern design. The front yard has received some landscaping as well; a wide, circular path that frames a small cluster of custom trees and shrubbery before leading to the dark oak door, framed by neat flower beds on either side.

As they come up on the house, Impulse and Bdubs turn their horses along a branch of path that veers off from the main circle, taking them towards a small structure built against the house’s side. Made only out of diorite wall posts and a flat, deepslate tiled roof, it creates sort of an overhang, divided into two compartments with warped stem fence posts. Its purpose quickly becomes obvious as Bdubs hops off his horse and pulls a lead from his inventory, leashing his horse to one of the posts.

Jimmy swings his leg around to slide off the horse, dropping onto the ground with an ungraceful grunt. In the stall beside them, Impulse has carefully dismounted from his own steed, still cradling Tango in his arms.

The longer Jimmy looks, the more his chest aches with longing. So he looks away.

“Alright, let’s get inside.” Impulse’s voice is soft. He turns back towards the front of the house. “This way.”

Bdubs finishes hitching the other horse to its post. “Right behind ya!” he chirps. He pats Jimmy on the arm as he passes- an encouraging, or perhaps comforting, gesture.

Either way, Jimmy appreciates it. He knows Bdubs tends to diffuse tense situations with humor, or by maintaining an energetic demeanor. It might be mistaken as inconsiderate, in some situations, but he seems to know where the line is. Genuinely, Jimmy thinks he’d feel worse if Bdubs was suddenly walking on eggshells around him.

Pity is a suitor that won’t take a hint, no matter how many times Jimmy turns it away.

He follows Impulse and Bdubs around the front of the house. Bdubs has already scrambled ahead to open the door for Impulse, whose arms are, of course, full of Tango. He ushers Jimmy in after them with a wide sweep of his arm.

They’ve moved their bedroom upstairs at some point, it seems. The main floor is now a dedicated living space with a modest kitchen in the back, overlooked by a loft from the second floor. An L-shaped lounge made of quartz stairs is built into the conversation pit occupying the center of the room, surrounding a small fireplace. The glass panes encasing it go all the way up to the ceiling, but the sight of fire makes Jimmy flinch anyways- which he immediately kicks himself for.

(Jeeze, man, get a grip! What if Tango saw that?)

If Impulse and Bdubs noticed, they don’t comment on it. Impulse silently leads the way up a spiral quartz slab staircase, which opens up into the loft. Bdubs’s interior work is clearly showing here, with cozy seating nestled beside a custom bookshelf-console unit. Straight ahead past the loft is a short hallway with a couple doors on either side.

Impulse stops at the first one on the right. “We got a spare room here,” he says, nodding his head at the door.

“Not finished yet!” Bdubs adds hastily, though still making an effort to keep his voice low. “Or uh, heugh- furnished. I’m gonna- I was gonna do the interior, I swear.”

Somehow, the fact that Bdubs is concerned Jimmy will judge his lackluster interior decoration- despite everything else going on right now- makes Jimmy crack a smile. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers, ey?” he jokes.

“Oh, very freaking funny!” Bdubs huffs, but he’s grinning, too. He opens the door for them, and Jimmy lets Impulse carry Tango inside before following.

The room is, as expected, fairly bare bones. Quartz walls and a dark oak floor carry over the mid-century modern theme from the exterior, but there’s no furniture other than a double-wide cyan bed against the wall. A couple of haphazardly-placed torches on the walls provide the room’s only lighting.

“No windows yet, either,” Bdubs mutters, clicking his tongue as his critical gaze sweeps over the room. “I need ta- I- I still gotta figure out how to place ‘em, with the exterior wall and stuff.”

“It’s alright,” Jimmy assures him. Windows would make him feel a bit too exposed right now, if he’s being honest.

Impulse carefully sets Tango down on the bed. “Okay, Tango, here we are.” He straightens up, running a hand through his hair as he exhales heavily.

Bdubs crosses quickly-but-quietly over to Impulse, wrapping him in a hug. “You okay, sweetie?” he asks softly.

Impulse smiles down at him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” Bdubs goes up on his toes to kiss Impulse’s cheek- and even so, he barely makes it. “I’m gonna go check on our boys, then, and see if the others need help with th- with the uh, the ranch. D’you- is there anything you want me to tell ‘em?”

“Yeah,” Impulse says thoughtfully, “maybe just let them know that we’d like to give Tango and Jimmy some privacy right now? We’ll let them know if we need anything, and we’ll chat more once everything’s calmed down.”

“Right, okay.” Bdubs glances at Jimmy. “That- is that good? For you?”

Jimmy is taken aback by the amount of consideration he’s being given. “Oh yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

“Alright.” Bdubs casts one final look at Tango, trying but failing to hide his worry from those big eyes of his. “Alright, I- I’ll be back in a little.” 

He slips out the door, leaving them alone.

Before an awkward silence can descend, Impulse clears his throat. “So uh, looks like someone got you pretty good,” he says, gesturing to his face.

“Huh?” Confused, Jimmy brings a hand to his face- only to jerk away as his fingers brush against his nose. Now that he’s actually paying attention, there’s a dull ache of pain radiating down the bridge of his nose, and underneath the still-sticky blood, he can feel a prominent bump where there wasn’t one before.

“Oh, right,” he murmurs. “Forgot about that.”

“Yeah, looks broken,” Impulse says sympathetically. “Need a respawn?”

Jimmy pauses. It’s difficult to tell when an injury will result in lasting damage- no one’s really cracked that particular scientific riddle yet. But generally, it’s understood that the sooner the respawn, the better the outcome. That’s why things like creeper explosions hardly ever leave a mark, since the death is usually instant.

More so, superficial wounds tend to be less likely to scar than deeper, more structural wounds. A simple gash will almost always go away after respawning- if it hasn’t already healed on its own- but things like broken bones can linger in the form of scars, joint deformities, and chronic pain. If he’s being smart, he really should get a quick respawn in, just to be sure.

But they’re on the Double Life world, and right now, his life isn’t just his own.

Jimmy looks Tango over. None of his wounds are serious enough to warrant a respawn, he only got a little scuffed up in the initial attack. In his current state, it’d probably do more harm than good.

“No,” Jimmy decides, “I… I can’t do that to him, not right now. He’s disoriented as it is.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Besides, I think it’s just the cartilage. Either it’ll heal on my next respawn, or it won’t, and it’ll just match the rest of my face.”

Impulse doesn’t laugh at the self-deprecating joke, simply offering a sad smile. “Alright. I’ll see if Martyn can bring some healing potions by once they finish up at the ranch, I’m pretty sure he’s got a brewing set-up.”

Jimmy’s throat tightens. “Right, thanks…” He smoothes a hand over the bed’s cover, setting his spawn anyways, before he eases himself onto the mattress. “Tango…?” he ventures. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Tango has yet to move at all from where Impulse deposited him, back against the wall with his knees tucked to his chest, arms limp at his sides. He doesn’t acknowledge Jimmy at all- which isn’t anything malicious on his part, of course, but god does it hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy tries again. “Hey, Tango? It’s me, it’s Jimmy.” He puts a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder, watching him all the while for any sign that he’ll startle or panic. “It’s over, you’re safe now. Are- are you hurt anywhere? Do you need anythin’?”

Still nothing. Somewhere behind Jimmy, Impulse makes a noncommittal noise. “Jimmy, buddy, I don’t think that’s gonna work right now…”

Jimmy ignores him. “Please, Tango,” he pleads, feeling his eyes sting, “can you just…” Idly, he lifts his other hand to wipe some of the blood off Tango’s chin. “Can you look at me?”

Unexpectedly, that gets Tango’s attention. He lifts his face almost robotically to look at Jimmy, eyes and expression still devastatingly blank.

The sudden movement startles Jimmy, his hand jerking back. And as it does, Tango lets his head drop back down.

An image flashes in Jimmy’s mind; Atlas, the doctor with the blood red gloves, grabbing Tango by the chin and tilting his head up.

(Oh, that’s messed up.)

(You’ve really done it, now.)

(Brilliant, just brilliant.)

Jimmy’s stomach turns. He scrambles back, away from Tango, his heart starting to pound. “Sorry,” he whispers, even though Tango gives no indication that he’s hearing it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

A hand lands on his shoulder, making him jump. Impulse gives him an understanding look. “I… think he just needs some time to come out of it,” he says quietly. “Y’know, alone. When he shuts down like this, there’s really nothing to do but wait.”

Jimmy finds his voice again. “Wait, you’ve seen it before?” he asks, creasing his brows together.

Impulse winces. “A couple times, yeah.”

“Oh.” Jimmy swallows, glancing back at Tango. “I dunno, I- I don’t wanna just leave him like this…”

“We can stay right outside,” Impulse says reassuringly, folding his arms. “It’s just… when he gets like this, I’m not sure he’s fully processing what’s going on. It’s like a defense mechanism. So he’s not gonna come out of it until he feels safe, and um… well…”

It’s not hard to catch his meaning. Jimmy bristles. “What, are you- are you sayin’ he doesn’t feel safe with me?” he snaps, which is so unfair because Impulse has been so helpful and so kind and he’s actually sort of right, but Jimmy can’t help it.

Impulse holds his gaze. “Not if he doesn’t recognize you.”

That sobers Jimmy a little, his wings sagging. “Oh. Oh, yeah, good point. You’re right.” Ducking his head, he swings his legs off the side of the bed and rises to his feet. “I guess he’ll be okay in here,” he relents. “But um, can we- would you mind if we put out the lights? It’s just…”

“Tango feels safer in the dark,” Impulse finishes, realization dawning in his eyes. “Good call.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy fidgets with his hands as Impulse collects the torches.

(Wow, he really knows Tango, huh?)

(Thank god someone knows what to do.)

(What exactly are you even here for?)

With the room now sufficiently darkened, Impulse holds the door open for Jimmy. Jimmy gives Tango a final look-over, his blank face now lit by the dim glow of his dampened blaze rods.

“We’ll be right outside if you need us, Tango,” Jimmy says in parting.

Tango remains silent as Impulse closes the door behind them.

As soon as they’re back in the hallway, all of Jimmy’s fatigue seems to hit him at once. He sways where he stands, shoulder bumping against the wall- the dull pain is easily ignored in favor of the black spots dancing across his vision. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting back a groan.

Fortunately, Impulse is there to steady him. “Woah, easy there.” He quickly guides Jimmy over to the loft to sit down. “Just breathe, okay?”

Jimmy takes a few slow, deep breaths- in through the nose, out through the mouth. When he opens his eyes again, the room is no longer spinning around him, so that’s a plus.

“Here,” Impulse presses something into Jimmy’s hand, “you must’ve worked up some hunger.”

It’s a golden carrot. “Thanks,” Jimmy murmurs, immediately starting to nibble on it. He probably does have food on him, somewhere in his inventory- cooked steak, most likely- but the extra saturation helps.

Seemingly satisfied that Jimmy isn’t going to pass out, Impulse sits down in the chair next to him. “How you feelin’?”

“Better, thanks,” Jimmy murmurs, shifting to fold his wings a bit more comfortably. He feels awkward and just… so out of place here. And Impulse is a nice guy, sure, but it’s a little embarrassing to have to be taken care of like a child. If it weren’t for Tango’s sake, he probably wouldn’t have accepted Impulse’s offer of help in the first place.

“Good.” Impulse looks him up and down, brows pinching together. “Jeeze, they really did a number on you. I’m sorry we weren’t there sooner, chat was chaos and we thought they’d be at spawn ‘til we saw your SOS.”

That comforts Jimmy a little. At least he managed to do something right. “It’s alright, not your fault,” he assures Impulse. “I mean, if you guys hadn’t come when you did…”

“Yeah.” Impulse nods solemnly. “That, uh… would’ve been pretty bad.”

Jimmy studies Impulse for a moment. Now that they have a second, there’s a question that’s been nagging at him. “So…” he starts, “how much did you hear, of what Bravo said?”

“Eh, bits and pieces.” Impulse shrugs. “Something about Tango being an evil doppelgänger from Hels.”

He says it so casually, like he’s talking about the weather. Jimmy’s stomach cinches. “Impulse…” he says carefully. “Did you… did you know?”

“What?” Impulse looks at him in surprise. “Oh, that Tango was from Hels? No. No, I never knew anything about before he came to Hermitcraft. But you know, I always kinda knew there was something… not great in his past. I mean, there were signs. I just figured he’d come from an anarchy server or something.” He knits his brows together. “I guess you… never saw what he was like, when he was still new, huh?”

Jimmy frowns. “Wha’d’you mean?”

Impulse makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s not my place to get into all that. But let’s just say… he’s come a long way since then. So um, looking back, it kinda makes sense.”

“So then…” Jimmy hesitates. “D’you believe what Bravo was saying? About what Hels are like?”

Impulse actually laughs- though not unkindly. “Oh, no, not by a long shot,” he assures Jimmy. “Don’t worry about that. I mean, there are players who think non-humans are bad, right? Like, there are still public servers out there that’ll ban Cleo soon as she joins, just for being a zombie.” He shrugs a shoulder, his forked tail idly flicking through the air. “Or me, for being a demon.”

“Oh.” Jimmy blinks, feeling stupid. “Right. It’s… so easy to forget, sometimes, that some folks still feel that way.”

Impulse tilts his head. “Well, not when you have to live it,” he says lightly.

“Oh. Oh!” Jimmy smacks his forehead. “No, no, right, of course,” he adds hastily, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it’s easy for you specifically to forget. Just, in general, I guess. ‘Cause most players don’t have that problem with avians- I mean, sometimes they think some of our traits are weird, sure, but uh- but it’s not the same thing, cause we aren’t hostile mob hybrids. Obviously. And- and none of my friends feel that way, either, so I just…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m not makin’ a lotta sense.”

Impulse gives him a gracious smile. “It’s okay, I know what you mean.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. “I’ve gotten so used to Hermitcraft, sometimes it catches me by surprise when I travel to public servers and people act scared, or… distrustful of me. And that’s without even seeing me in ‘full demon’ mode. So uh, even though I don’t know anything about this Hels world, I don’t believe that just being from there would automatically make someone evil. I know Tango better than that.”

Jimmy’s throat tightens. “Right…”

Now it’s Impulse’s turn to give him a sideways look. “... you don’t believe what Bravo said, do you?” he asks, voice low.

“What?” Jimmy blanches. Despite himself, he feels his wings puff up with indignation. “Gosh no, no, that’s- not in a million years, mate, it’s utter nonsense!”

“Alright, alright, sorry,” Impulse chuckles, holding his hands up. “I didn’t think you would. But you know, I just had to make sure.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy sighs, letting his feathers smooth down again. “You’re a good friend, Impulse,” he says, glancing away. “Seems like you know what to do, here. He’s gonna need that.”

“He’s gonna need you.” 

That makes Jimmy look up. “What?” 

Impulse’s expression softens. “I’ve known Tango a while, now, and even though there’s been plenty of fun and good times over the years… this is the first time I’ve seen him truly content. Like, he just seems at peace in a way I’ve never seen before. You do more for him than you’ll ever know- probably ‘cause he’s too scared to tell you.” There’s a knowing glint in his golden eyes. “Emotional vulnerability, uh, isn’t exactly his strong suit.”

A bittersweet smile tugs at Jimmy’s mouth. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Impulse claps him on the shoulder. “We’re gonna figure it out, okay? You guys aren’t alone in this.”

Warmth blooms in Jimmy’s chest. “Thank you, Impulse,” he says softly, “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Impulse returns his smile before sitting back in his chair. “Now, how about you get some rest?”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “Wh- no, wait,” he protests, “I’m not gonna leave-”

“You can stay right here!” Impulse assures him easily. “Just close your eyes and rest a bit. I’ll keep an eye out, and wake you up as soon as Tango comes to, okay? But right now, frankly, you look exhausted. And I’m sure you’ll wanna be well-rested for whenever Tango’s ready to talk about stuff.”

“Ah…” Chewing his lip, Jimmy glances over at the door to the spare room- mere steps away.

Since he forewent a respawn, he has to admit some shut-eye would be quite welcome at the moment. The immediate danger has passed. And right now, there’s nothing he can do to help Tango but give him some time. Might as well spend that time resting.

“I… suppose you’re right,” he relents finally. “But you gotta promise you’ll wake me if anythin’ happens, alright?”

Impulse nods. “I promise.”

“Right, then.” Jimmy settles into his chair, folding his arms across his chest. He fights back a yawn. “Thanks again. I- I mean it though… any little thing…”

“I know, I know.” Impulse waves him off. “Don’t worry.”

“Famous last words,” Jimmy quips, closing his eyes.

Impulse huffs a laugh but says nothing else.

Silence settles over the room, filled only by Impulse’s steady breathing and the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of him typing away on his communicator. He’s probably updating the others on the situation, so Jimmy can rest easy. He’s considerate like that.

Jimmy would’ve thought it’d be hard to fall asleep. This chair isn’t exactly built for it, and as lovely as Impulse and Bdubs’s home is, it’s not the ranch.

The loss is still fresh. He already knows it’s gonna hit him even harder in the coming days. But for right now, the post-adrenaline exhaustion is finally sinking in, and before he knows it, he’s drifted off into the inky blackness.

~*~

A gentle hand on Jimmy’s shoulder startles him awake.

“Jimmy,” Impulse whispers, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness, “wake up.”

It must’ve been quite a deep, dreamless sleep, because while it seems to Jimmy that he only just closed his eyes, he can clearly see through the window that it’s been at least several hours. The sun has long since set; a half moon is rising in the night sky. That’s alright with Jimmy- he was afraid he’d have nightmares.

Rubbing his eyes, Jimmy squints at Impulse. “What’s goin’ on? Everythin’ okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Impulse scratches the back of his head. “I uh, I just heard a thud in Tango’s room so I went to check on him and- he’s fine, don’t worry!” he adds quickly, as Jimmy bolts upright. “He’s fine, he’s up, but he still seems kinda disoriented? Like, he’s conscious, but when I tried to go in… I guess I look a bit too intimidating,” he taps one of the curved horns poking out from his hair, “‘cause he growled at me.”

“Growled?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

(Well, that’s promising.)

(Round two!)

(Here we go…)

“Yeah.” Impulse gives a sad smile. “So um, I think you should go try and talk to him, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh.” Jimmy blinks. “Oh, right, of course.” He rises to his feet, shaking off residual soreness from his awkward sleeping position.

Impulse pulls a lantern from his inventory and holds it out to Jimmy. “Give a shout if you need anything.”

Jimmy takes the lantern. “Right, thanks.” Steeling himself, he creeps over to the spare room, knocking lightly on the door- which is slightly ajar. “Tango…?” he calls softly, poking his head into the room. “You okay?”

The bed is empty, covers strewn in disarray. Tango is crouched in the corner farthest from the door, his back pressed against the wall. Hunched over and breathing hard, he stares at Jimmy, his blood-stained face lit by the faint glow of his blaze rods. His pupils are dilated again, lips curled back to show his teeth. There’s no recognition in his expression at all.

(You cannot sleep, there are monsters nearby.)

Jimmy swallows. His heart starts to pound. “Tango,” he starts tentatively, holding the lantern up so his face is clearly illuminated as he steps forward, “it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Tango makes a blaze noise deep in his throat; a haunting, hollow sort of growl. It’s unmistakably a warning.

Jimmy hesitates, wings shuffling uncertainly. How to get through to him? General reassurances don’t seem to be working. He needs to remind Tango of where he is, to convince him that he’s safe- in a way that only Jimmy would know.

He takes a breath. “Hey, rancher.”

Tango falls silent. Surprise flickers across his features, mouth parting, gaze sharpening. For a moment he just stares, motionless. Then he squints.

“... Jimmy?”

Oh, Jimmy could cry. “Yes, there we go!” he says encouragingly. “It’s me, it’s Jimmy. You okay, Tango?”

Tango’s breath hitches. He takes a single, careful step forward- then he halfs runs, half stumbles towards Jimmy.

Jimmy rushes to meet him, catching Tango before he falls. “Oh jeeze, okay…” Setting the lantern down on the bed, he lowers them to the floor, shifting so he can wrap Tango in his arms. “It’s alright, it’s alright…”

“Jimmy, thank god.” Tango clings to him just as tightly, face buried in Jimmy’s shirt. His claws dig into Jimmy’s skin just shy of being painful. “I- I woke up,” he gasps, “and the quartz- I thought I was…” He pulls away enough to scan Jimmy’s face, eyes wide and frightened. “Where are we? What- how long has it been?”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “Uh- we’re at Impulse and Bdubs’s place, and it’s been… several hours, I think? Half a day?”

“God.” A shudder runs through Tango. “That- that really happened, didn’t it?” He starts to breathe faster, his voice straining into that faint upper pitch that Jimmy’s come to associate with panic. “Oh god, I- I- I don’t- hhh, I c- can’t…”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Jimmy soothes, rubbing circles on Tango’s back. “I’m here, you’re safe. It’s over. Just breathe.”

They stay like that for a while, Tango curled against Jimmy as he rides out the worst of it. He shakes violently, eyes squeezed shut, breath hitching as he tries to get control of it again. Jimmy’s heart aches for him- he wishes there was something more he could do to help.

But he knows from experience that just being here is enough.

It’s not terribly infrequent for Tango to have nightmares. Sometimes he simply startles awake at night, apologizes for waking Jimmy up, and goes back to sleep. If Jimmy asks about it the next morning, he brushes it off as nothing; just silly nonsense nightmares, the kind that are terrifying at the time but seem utterly ridiculous in the light of day. Nothing more than that.

And all this time, Jimmy believed him.

(What a fool.)

Jimmy’s only ever seen a couple nightmares cause a reaction as severe as this. The shaking, the shortness of breath, the panic. What helped in the past was simply holding Tango- offering a few reassurances, but mostly silent comfort. And of course, Tango never wanted to talk about those nightmares, and Jimmy didn’t want to push too hard. He’d figured that Tango would talk to him about it when he was ready.

(Fool me once, shame on you…)

Gradually, Tango calms down. His tremors cease, and his breathing starts to grow deeper. He’s still holding onto Jimmy, but it’s less desperate, now. More familiar. Jimmy curls his wings around them, as if providing another barrier, another layer of security.

After Tango’s been still and quiet for a few moments, Jimmy softly breaks the silence. “How much d’you remember?”

Tango takes a shaky breath. “All of it,” he whispers. “E- everything, I was- it was like I- I was watching everything happen to someone else, like I was outside my body…” He looks up to meet Jimmy’s gaze, eyes brimming with tears. “Jimmy, I- I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Jimmy frowns. “Tango, what on earth are you apologizing for?”

Abruptly, Tango pulls away. “I burned you,” he grits out.

“No, you-” Jimmy almost grabs him by the arm, but then thinks better of it. “That wasn’t your fault.”

Tango stares at him incredulously. “Wha’ th- what do you mean? Of course it was!” He rakes his claws through his hair. “I- I lost control, I set the ranch on fire, and you got burned.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Jimmy argues. “You didn’t do it on purpose, you were just defending yourself.”

“Doesn’t matter!” Tango throws his hands up. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten burned, true or false?”

(True!)

(He’s got a point…)

(Why are you arguing this?)

Jimmy doesn’t answer. “Look,” he says instead, “honestly, it’s not a big deal. I’m fine!”

“Well, you don’t look fine!” Tango says bluntly. Distress flashes across his face as he looks Jimmy up and down. “Your poor wings- and oh, your face! What, did- we didn’t respawn?”

Jimmy ducks his head. “I didn’t wanna put you through that,” he explains, wincing.

He can actually see the guilt in Tango’s eyes intensify. “Ohhh no,” he breathes, dismayed. “You- why did you…” Shaking his head, he fixes Jimmy with a firm look. “Okay, you- you need to respawn, now.”

“It’s not important,” Jimmy replies, just as stubbornly. He holds a hand out, beseeching. “Tango, please, I- I’ve been worried outta my mind about you. So much happened- ”

“I’m fine,” Tango says shortly.

“No, you’re not,” Jimmy insists, working hard not to raise his voice. “I mean, honestly, I- I don’t even know what that thing ‘round your neck is doin’!”

Tango shuts his mouth with a sharp click and glances away. 

That sobers Jimmy instantly. Tentatively, he scooches a bit closer to Tango. His eyes trace the collar- it’s so deceptively simple, so innocuous at first glance. Just a ring of smooth, flat iron. But clearly, there’s a lot more going on; a single red light above the keyhole hints at a mechanism hidden within.

“Do you… know what it is?” Jimmy ventures, giving Tango a searching look.

Tango’s jaw tightens. “It’s wither rose.”

Jimmy blinks, taken aback. “What? But… we aren’t withering, we aren’t takin’ damage-”

“It’s not…” Tango makes a noncommittal noise, waving a hand in an aborted gesture. “They’ve modified it, somehow, I dunno. It- it’s not the full effect. All it’s doin’ is dampening my fire.”

“And our soulbond,” Jimmy realizes, his stomach sinking. “After he put it on you, I- I couldn’t feel your emotions anymore. It’s just… numb.”

Tango’s face is grim. “That’s what wither rose does,” he says lowly.

The certainty in his voice is… somewhat concerning. Sure, any player who’s been ‘round the block will have learned what it feels like to be withered, at some point or another. But due to the tedious and somewhat risky nature of obtaining the roses by way of a wither farm, most players don’t regularly encounter them. And as far as aesthetics are concerned, they aren’t the most appealing flower, so when they are farmed, they’re mostly used for mass-producing black dye or as the killing method in a mob farm. Not as decor or landscaping, where a player might actually touch the rose and be subjected to the wither effect.

Personally, Jimmy can’t remember the last time he touched a wither rose, as a player who doesn’t make a habit of farming withers or even taking on the boss fight. But the tone of Tango’s voice right now is the tone of someone who is horribly familiar with the sensation.

“Tango…?” Jimmy prompts quietly. “Is there… somethin’ I should know?”

Tango swallows. He’s avoiding Jimmy’s eyes. “I… I don’t wanna talk about it,” he whispers hoarsely. “Not right now?”

It’s almost a plea, and Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Okay. That’s okay,” he says gently, forcing down his disappointment; this isn’t about him. He rises to his feet, holding out his hand to Tango. “Here, come on, let’s… let’s get up on the bed, alright? It’s late, you need some proper rest.”

Tango hesitates, though he accepts Jimmy’s offered hand to help him up. “You need to respawn…”

“It can wait,” Jimmy says easily. He tries for a grin. “Honestly, I- I already knew I wasn’t exactly easy on the eyes, but I didn’t think it was that bad…”

“No,” Tango says quickly, “no, you’re not-” He makes a frustrated noise. “Your wings.”

Jimmy softens. “They’re just feathers. They’ll grow back.”

Sure, it might take a while if his follicles have been badly damaged, and his wings won’t be a pretty sight once all the burned feathers fall out. But most of his flight feathers are still intact, so in terms of places to get burned, it could’ve been much worse.

Tango huffs a breath, clearly still upset with himself. But he doesn’t protest further as Jimmy eases onto the bed, gently pulling Tango with him. After collecting the lantern so the room is properly dark again, Jimmy nestles under the covers, sweeping a wing out to lightly gather Tango beside him.

Tango settles against him, and it’s then that Jimmy realizes he isn’t as warm as he used to be.

He’s not cold, not by any means. But Tango has always run a bit hotter than the average player- a blaze hybrid trait that Jimmy’s quite fond of. It was the whole reason they first shared a bed, back in the early days of the world, and inadvertently plunged their relationship into new, terrifying depths. If it wasn’t for that moment, they likely would’ve danced around the issue for far longer, and been robbed of many precious days of happiness together. So even on warm nights, Jimmy will still cuddle up beside Tango. Even if he has to kick all the blankets off.

But with the collar dampening Tango’s fire, he’s been robbed of that, as well.

Jimmy swallows the lump in his throat and puts an arm around Tango, who curls into his side, head resting on his shoulder. Having Tango so close is immediately comforting. God, to think of how close he came to losing this, to never holding Tango again… 

It’s scary. It’s incredibly scary. There are few things in the universe that can really, truly cause lasting harm to a player. Injuries can heal upon respawn, death isn’t permanent- except for worlds where it is, then they just respawn on a different world and start again. But if those Hels people had succeeded in taking Tango through that hacked portal, into some isolated prison world that Jimmy has no way of finding… he’s afraid that would’ve destroyed him.

Jimmy turns his head to press a kiss onto Tango’s forehead, right between the dimmed blaze rods hovering around his temples. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Tango whispers back.

The room grows silent. Jimmy stares up at the dark ceiling. His earlier tiredness has up and left him, his mind racing, plagued by thoughts of what might’ve been. It’s all he can do to reassure himself that it’s over, that Tango’s safe and still here with him.

That for once, he was lucky.

(For how long, though?)

He isn’t trying to stay awake. And he isn’t pretending to be asleep, either, just laying quietly with his thoughts. But at some point Tango must think he’s nodded off, because only then does he start to cry.

It’s a quiet sound. Just the sharp inhale and exhale of breath. Jimmy might not have even known he was crying if it wasn’t for the way his shoulders shake, and the sudden dampness seeping into Jimmy’s shirt. 

It takes all of Jimmy’s willpower not to console Tango, to hold him tighter and offer hushed reassurances. There’s a reason Tango waited until he thought Jimmy was asleep- he’s very much the kind of person who prefers to show emotion on his own terms. If he knew Jimmy was awake to witness this, he’d completely shut down again. And he needs this.

So Jimmy pushes down his own emotions and does nothing as his soulmate cries, trying not to move or start crying himself as the guilt for being so useless eats him alive.

(Sweet dreams…)

~*~

Morning comes, eventually.

At least, as far as Jimmy can tell by his internal clock. The room he wakes up to is still fairly dark- just a slim beam of light coming in from the hallway through the cracked door. Impulse must’ve done that to better keep an ear out for them overnight. Thoughtful guy. Tango is sleeping deeply next to Jimmy, and the sight is quite comforting.

It seems they’ve kept with their usual sleeping habits, even without a sunrise to greet them.

Carefully, without jostling Tango, Jimmy pulls up his inventory to grab his communicator. He can’t recall hearing it go off, but he wants to make sure there isn’t anything that urgently requires his attention. He’s surprised, however, to find a potion of healing; Impulse must’ve slipped it to him while he was sleeping.

A smile tugs at Jimmy’s lips. He’s long since regenerated his health, but the potion ought to help with his lingering injury. He downs the potion quickly, grimacing at the cloyingly sweet note of melon. It doesn’t take long for a cooling sensation to settle over his broken nose. When he gently probes at it, he can feel it’s still a little crooked, but at least the pain is gone.

Putting the empty bottle away, Jimmy digs out his communicator, squinting against the blue light. No one’s used chat lately or sent him any whispers- it seems they’re taking the request for privacy quite seriously. But there is the backlog from yesterday waiting for him. It takes him a minute just to scroll back to where it all began.

Bravo joined the game.

<Grian> ey??

AtlasSyn joined the game.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

Phantonym joined the game.

<Grian> EYY????

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

<PearlescentMoon> Ummm?

<Renthedog> What the heck??

CRIMETIME joined the game.

t3rr0r_b1te joined the game.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

baddomen666 joined the game.

<InTheLittleWood> WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!?

staluggmite joined the game.

PwrPlayz joined the game.

<PearlescentMoon> Hello??

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

ApexGamer98 joined the game.

<Smajor1995> wait how is this happening

<PearlescentMoon> Raid?? D:

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels joined the game.

<Grian> i don;t know??

Jaffu joined the game.

<Grian> theres no one at spawn???

<Etho> woah!

<SolidarityGaming> SOS RSNCH

<Smajor1995> oh no

<Renthedog> What??

<Smallishbeans> rsnch lol

<GoodTimeWithScar> G come pick me up

Tyrannicide was slain by Tango.

staluggmite was slain by Tango.

Phantonym was slain by Tango.

<InTheLittleWood> Wait WHAT?!?!?!?!?!

<Smallishbeans> NO WAY

<BdoubleO100> OHHHHHHH

<Grian> EVERYONE TO RANCH

<ZombieCleo> what is happening???

staluggmite joined the game.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

<Smajor1995> omw cleo

Phantonym joined the game.

<impulseSV> Etho, Joel, our place?

<Renthedog> BigB where you at??

<bigbst4tz2> coming

SheHelsSeaHels was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

EbonyHelmentia was shot by Smajor1995.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by impulseSV.

CRIMETIME was slain by Wolf.

t3rr0r_b1t3 was slain by Renthedog.

Jaffu was doomed to fall by ZombieCleo.

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

Tyrannicide was slain by Renthedog.

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

CRIMETIME joined the game.

Phantonym was slain by Etho.

t3rr0r_b1t3 joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels joined the game.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by Wolf.

Jaffu joined the game.

Helfyre_004 was slain by Renthedog.

Vexed2theMax was slain by bigbst4tz2.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

Jaffu was slain by Renthedog.

SheHelsSeaHels was slain by Wolf.

bigbst4tz2 was shot by AtlasSyn.

Renthedog died.

Phantonym joined the game.

baddomen666 was slain by Wolf.

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

Jaffu joined the game.

PwrPlayz was slain by InTheLittleWood.

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

staluggmite was slain by Smallishbeans.

Helfyre_004 was shot by Smajor1995.

EbonyHelmentia was slain by Wolf.

PwrPlayz joined the game.

ApexGamer98 was slain by PearlescentMoon.

baddomen666 joined the game.

PwrPlayz was slain by Wolf.

Jaffu was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 was shot by Smajor1995.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

Vexed2theMax was slain by InTheLittleWood.

PearlescentMoon was shot by AtlasSyn.

Smajor1995 died.

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

ApexGamer98 joined the game.

SheHelsSeaHels was slain by Wolf.

ne’er_do_hels was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

Helfyre_004 was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 was slain by impulseSV.

CRIMETIME was slain by Smallishbeans.

Phantonym was slain by Wolf.

Vexed2theMax was slain by Wolf.

t3rr0r_b1t3 was slain by Wolf.

ApexGamer98 was slain by BdoubleO100.

Tyrannicide was slain by Wolf.

EbonyHelmentia was slain by Wolf.

AtlasSyn left the game.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by Wolf.

Bravo was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

Grian was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

GoodTimeWithScar died.

Jimmy doesn’t know how long he spends looking at chat, reading it over and over again as he tries to make sense of it. All those Hels players came here with the express purpose of kidnapping Tango. But why? Dr. Atlas had said something about ‘getting back to work’ and a farm design, but what does that even mean? 

Speaking of that doctor fella, he seems to have been the only one to get kills on the Double Lifers- the rest of them must’ve been preoccupied with Pearl’s wolves. Gosh, to think what her chat must look like…

But that’s something worth noting. Atlas didn’t waste his time with wolves, he went for Pearl and Bigb. He must’ve realized the wolves were Pearl’s and targeted her because of it. And the fact he went for Bigb instead of Ren, who was racking up the most kills... that means he was able to put together that they were soulbound, and he used that to get rid of the threat more easily.

Out of these Hels players, Atlas is clearly the one to watch out for.

Well, him and Bravo, of course. Though Bravo technically isn’t a Hels, if Jimmy’s understood it properly. But he’s certainly just as cruel and bloodthirsty as those other guys were, and he’s got it out for Tango the most. Jimmy can’t recall the last time he saw such hate in a player’s eyes, for any reason. And this is the guy claiming he should’ve been Jimmy’s soulmate? Unbelievable.

As if Jimmy would ever go for such a dense, hateful, entitled piece of-

“Honey,” Tango says suddenly, sitting up on his elbows, “you okay?”

Jimmy jolts in surprise; he must’ve been looking quite cross with his communicator. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he assures Tango softly, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry if I woke you.”

It’s difficult to make out details in the scarce light from the hallway, but Tango looks much improved from yesterday. Even underneath the dried blood, the warmth has returned to his skin, replacing that sickly, pale pallor. His red eyes are sharp and alert- that’s a huge relief, as well.

“No, no, you’re good!” Tango says brightly. He leans over to press a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek. “Sleep alright?”

His tone throws Jimmy for a moment. Someone’s feeling better. Blinking, Jimmy puts his comm away. “I did, yeah,” he answers uncertainly. “You?”

“Yep!” Tango smiles at him; it seems a bit forced. “I uh- I’m all rest-ificated and ready to start the day. So, what I- well, I- I guess our first order of business, we should go take a look at the ranch, right, see what the damage is? Then we can do some resource gathering and start rebuilding, so we aren’t crashing at Impulse and Bdubs’s place forever.”

Jimmy pauses for a moment to process the words. “Umm… are you sure?” he asks tentatively. “I mean, we can go look at it if you want, but uh, are you- we should really focus on getting that collar off you first, don’t you think?”

Tango shrugs. He isn’t quite meeting Jimmy’s eyes. “Doesn’t bother me. Besides, we don’t have the key.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So what, we just... let it alone? Move on?”

Tango huffs a laugh- it sounds a bit faint. “Yeah, yeah exactly.” 

(What an abrupt change of character!)

(Lying again, it seems…)

(How suspicious.)

Okay, this is definitely strange behavior. Considering everything that happened yesterday, Jimmy would’ve expected Tango to still be physically and emotionally wrecked. But instead, he seems rather keen to just move on, like everything’s normal- 

Ah. Of course. Jimmy doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“Tango...” he starts, “I don’t think-”

“Good morning!” Impulse hums as he pokes his head through the cracked door. “How we doin’, guys?”

Curse his timing. Tango, of course, immediately takes advantage of the distraction.

“Oh, hey Impy!” he says cheerfully. “Hey uh, sorry about earlier. You know, I uh, I was a little confused, and uh… you know...” He pulls a face; overdramatized. He’s trying to make light of it.

Impulse seems to share the same realization as Jimmy. “Hey, it’s alright,” he says easily, though he keeps his tone in a lower register- more serious. Not feeding into the fake energy. “No hard feelings. Here, I brought some food.”

Tango takes the offered food without even a second of hesitation; a stack of golden carrots. “Of course. Thank you, thank you.” He quickly starts crunching on one, conveniently busying himself so he doesn’t have to say anything else.

Oh well, at least he’s eating. Jimmy gives Impulse a tired smile. “Hey, Impulse. Thanks again for lettin’ us crash here.”

Impulse returns his smile. “Yeah, of course, no problem. So um, I’ve just got a bit of an update for you guys.” He sits down at the end of the bed, expression sobering. “The ranch situation is under control, they managed to get the fire out before it spread to anything else nearby. So your pastures, barns, and fields are safe. All your animals, too.”

It’s easy enough to pick up on what he’s left out. “But the ranch itself is gone, isn’t it?” Jimmy says quietly.

Impulse nods. “I’m sorry. Most of what’s left is just the stone. I think the basement is pretty intact, too, but everything else…”

“Yep.” Tango, finished with his carrot, shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, I figured. That’s what we get for building with wood, even though I’m super flammable and stuff.”

Jimmy gives him a sympathetic look. “It’ll be okay-”

“So,” Tango interrupts, avoiding Jimmy’s gaze as he gives Impulse an intent look, “uh- anything else?”

(Ouch! Testy…)

Impulse rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Grian wants to know if you guys are up for a chat. Nothing bad,” he adds quickly, “he’s just trying to figure out a solution and we’re just a little in the dark about everything. You can stick to the basics; if there’s something you aren’t comfortable telling us, that’s fine-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tango assures him. Despite his grin, there’s a hard edge to his voice. “Let’s do it. Call everyone up, we’ll have a nice chat at spawn or something. Let’s- let’s get goin’.”

Impulse pauses. “Well, if you want, we can have just Grian come over...”

Tango huffs. “No, why- let’s just get everyone on the same page, okay? Get it all over with at once.” He spreads his hands. “No point in delaying, or- or having to explain the same thing over and over again, right? I mean, everyone’s stuck here ‘til Grian lifts the lockdown, I- I’m sure they’ll wanna know why.”

Jimmy exchanges a look with Impulse. “I… I suppose,” he says hesitantly. “But are you sure you’re-”

“Yeah,” Tango says, “yeah, it’s fine.” 

Impulse purses his lips, clearly fighting not to let his frustration show. 

The sentiment is one that Jimmy shares. It’s obvious Tango is trying to downplay everything- and if that’s his way of coping, fine. But it really throws a wrench into the works when moving forward requires actually addressing what happened, and having an in-depth conversation about it. And this doesn’t bode well for long-term; they can’t just pretend everything’s normal, no matter how much Tango might wish it. 

“Okay, I’ll let him know.” Impulse rises to his feet. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hallway if you guys wanted to wash up.”

Tango actually makes a face at that, dropping the facade for a moment. He really doesn’t like water. “Wash up..?”

Impulse winces. “You’re um. Still covered in dried blood.”

(I was wondering when he’d realize that…)

Tango blinks. “Oh. Oh, right, of course.” Absently, he reaches a hand up to scratch at his chin. “I should probably wash that off, yeah. I mean, everyone knows I’m a vicious monster but I don’t have to look it, right?” he laughs.

Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Hey, Tango…”

“No,” Impulse protests, “that’s not-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tango says shortly. “Thanks, Impulse.”

“Alright.” Impulse lets the matter drop, turning to leave. “Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

As soon as Impulse is gone, Jimmy turns to Tango. “Hey, so-”

But Tango has already hopped out of bed and crossed to the door, calling, “Hang on, be right back!” over his shoulder.

Down the hall, Jimmy hears the bathroom door open and close. He sighs.

This is gonna be a fun conversation.

~*~

CONTINUED IN PART IX, ACT II

[moons-of-dewclan]

I was curious how to get your clan really set off? I recently (LIKE EARLIER TODAY JFJSJFJ) started my own clangen blog but idk if it's worthy of Tumblr😭

How can I improve my art and improve my process? You're one of my BIGGEST inspirations ngl you're literally him (or her or they I'm so sorry I never caught your pronouns) but I was just curious on how to be better? If you wanna look, don't. It's like, rlly bad so.... save your eyes. Have a lovely nighttt <33

HELLOOOOO I'M NOT 100% SURE WHAT YOU MEAN BY SET OFF I'M SORRY :{ if you mean to get people reading it, i think it's vastly just luck also appealing to an audience by accident i posted my art online for 10 years (i started posting in 2010 as a wee ka- told you i'm an adult haahahueu) before anyone showed consistent interest and i valued those two or so commenters who occasionally had something to say about my stuff, so much LAKSNLKD. that entire decade i got between 2 and 30 favourites for every piece i posted- usually between 2 and 10- until around 2021 when a making a comic aANNND joining a wolf ARPG group exposed me to many kindred art-enjoyers that wanted to keep up with my goofy stories then for some reason, i posted Dewclan's first page on tumblr and it got way more engagement than any other piece of art i've ever posted SO LAKSDNLKDAS WE CANNOT PREDICT THESE THINGS.. at least i can't if you're looking for engagement, pLS AIM FOR ENGAGEMENT THAT FEELS MEANINGFUL over anything else IN MY OPINION, and it's just my opinion- part of being 'better' is, first and foremost, being able to enjoy your art alone. and then being excited with what you choose to share! even if you don't care about your quality of art, care about the story. if you don't care about the story, care about the process and just having fun. but you have to have fun in doing it, and do it for your own eyes primarily. like if you were alone in a room and creating only for yourself! because, until you happen to find others who like what you're liking, you are then when someone is interested and you get to share that excitement, even that ooone comment on something you care about is OOGHHH SUCH A NICE FEELIN. enter communities, comment on other artists' work, try to make friends! but make sure to remember, if you create with the hopes others will like it, without liking it yourself, you're going to be really broken down if someone doesn't like it FOR you :{ loving your own art is tough work but it's integral to your longterm relationship with drawing ON IMPROVING.. for me, nothing is more integral to improving than finding a way to practice that suits you (looking at live figures doesn't help me at all. i don't know why. it's insane), and having fun doing it. i can't grasp anatomy unless i break it down with shapes. SHAPES ARE EVERYTHING. study the shapes of what you want to draw. break em down by tracing simple shapes over your subject. see if the leg is the same length as the head from muzzle to neck and lock that info in. STUFF LIKE THAT on the technical side of things, it can be super helpful to dedicate half an hour or so to drawing a day- eventually it becomes a habit and you just default to 'oh i think i wanna draw' when you've got nothing else to do. more drawing, more improvement!

HONESTLY THO another important thing is not putting yourself down. i know it's a hard habit to break (i struggle with it outside of art myself!), but it doesn't do you any favours. the more you rag on yourself, the more it'll manifest as something that actually damages your art, AND your relationship with it. let it be fun- don't sabotage yourself! you can be critical of your work and still kind! little tip here, improving can take a while, but experimenting with styles can make an INSTANT shift in how you perceive your stuff. ALSOOO EXPERIMENT WITH DIFFERENT BRUSHES FOR SKETCHING AND LINING. I PROOMISE. PLS DO IT. IT'S LIKE A MAGIC TRICK. i cannNNNOT sketch with a hard brush. everything looks horrible. marker brush tho?? so smooth. full of character. lovely. binary brush sketches? suddenly i'm Anime. pencil brush?? i digidevolve back into baby ka who loved to crosshatch and do semi realism. airbrush??? i explode into atoms actually

i find for a lot of people, they don't need to improve or be 'better' at art, they need to learn to enjoy what they're capable of doing now, and improvement is a byproduct. from what i've seen through the years, unless you work to curb it the negative view of your art will stick with you no matter what 'skill level' you get to bc the calls' comin from inside the house, yknow what i mean 3: it can be a long process to learn to accept your art, and sometimes you just plain grow out of it over time! but in the meantime it can't hurt to make efforts to fight your d e m o n s

I'M SORRY I WROTE SO MUCH IK YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS ALL IT ISN'T JUST TO YOU, ODESSY-CLAN BLOG RUNNER, IT'S AIMED AT ANYONE WITH ARTSY SELF DOUBTS. i hope i phrased everything kindly bc i meant it all kindly 3: i hate to see an artist doubt their work, but THERE IS NO SHAME IN IT. i want to encourage loving it regardless of any flaws tho, even though it takes time!

[badkitty3000]

can u do a five fanfic where he saves vivi from smth/someone. like “kill for ur love” sorta trope. idk if you’ve alr done im only on #3 of halo but pls its a need

No Escape

Five is forced into assassin mode when Vivian is put in danger by another Commission agent. He must not be very smart, though, because no one in their right mind would dare lay a hand on Five's girl.

Thank you so much for this request! I love writing anything with these two and this was a great subject that I hadn't done before. I hope I did ok! 😊

Words: 8,045

Warnings: blood, violence, Five being a badass but also a softy, smut at the end but can be skipped and it won't affect the story at all

As an aside: this story is meant to take place at some point during my AU series Halo on AO3, when Five and Vivian are not yet married and he is working for the Commission. If you like this pairing, you can check out more (lots more!) here. Also, here is a link to my Master List posts on Tumblr.

And a big shout out to my homie @kaybreezy3000 who was a major help with this one, and did the super sexy cover art!

Five tried to swallow down his rising panic as he sped through the city’s dark and empty streets. The heavy rain battered down onto the roof of the car and the tires sent up a spectacular spray of water every time he screeched around a corner. He didn’t care if he was driving one hundred miles an hour over the city streets or running red lights. His foot stepped harder down on the accelerator. If a cop tried to stop him, they’d have to shoot out his tires first. Even then, he wouldn’t stop. With his heart hammering away in his chest and his hands gripping the steering wheel, he glanced over at the handgun lying on the passenger seat where he had thrown it. A flash of lightning illuminated his face for a brief moment, and he saw his eyes reflected back at him in the rearview mirror. They looked like his normal emerald-colored eyes but with one major difference. These eyes belonged to a man who was desperate and seething with rage.

He had known something was off as soon as he had come home that night. Viv always left the light on in the living room for him, no matter how late he was going to be. And most times she didn’t even know when he was coming back, but she left it on all night long, just in case. So, when he had teleported into their apartment earlier and it was dark, Five was immediately suspicious.

He had called her name, but there was no answer and he didn’t hear her in any of the rooms. The place wasn’t that big, so it’s not like she wouldn’t have heard him. But he checked the bedroom and the bathroom. Both were dark, with no signs of her anywhere. When he walked into the kitchen, though, and snapped on the light, he knew something was very wrong.

There, in the middle of the tile floor, was a large pool of amber-colored liquid, surrounded by hundreds of glass shards. One of the kitchen chairs had been turned over and was lying on its side.

Five called her name again, as if she would appear out of some secret panel in the wall, carrying a broom and laughing at herself for being so clumsy. But, of course, that didn’t happen and the only sound was the echo of his own voice bouncing off the kitchen walls.

He crouched down next to the spill and the broken glass. The floor was sticky and the whole room smelled like whiskey. Most of the glass was clear with no markings, but one large chunk of it still had a label attached. When Five reached out with a trembling hand to pick it up, he held it closer to read the print. He recognized it immediately. This was not the normal liquor they kept in the house, and it would have been impossible for Vivian to have even acquired it on her own. Not unless the local corner store had come across a rare shipment of whiskey that hadn’t been distilled since 1865.

Five stared at the piece of broken glass in his hand, trying to wrap his head around what he was gradually piecing together. When he looked up at the kitchen table, he saw Viv’s phone lying there, which did nothing to quell the growing sense of dread in his stomach. He stood and picked it up, the movement making it come to life and flashing a photo of the two of them that she kept as her home screen. That’s when he noticed the smear of blood across the screen.

His eyes darted from the phone to the overturned chair, to the broken bottle and spilled ancient whiskey and his heart sank.

“Vivie,” he said in a horrified whisper.

She was gone and he knew who had her. Why, he had no idea, but wherever she was, she would be scared and maybe hurt; or worse. Five forced the gruesome horror scenes from his mind. It wasn’t going to do him any good to crack up now. He needed to focus on finding her and he needed to do it fast. There was no telling what this fucking psycho was capable of. And if Five found out she had been hurt in any way whatsoever, one thing was for damn sure. God help the man who was responsible.

When Vivian heard the knock on the door, she figured it was the older lady from two doors down. Ever since Five had moved in, the woman had been making herself much more present around their apartment; always stopping by with plates of cookies or a scarf she just happened to have knitted. She never seemed particularly interested in talking to Viv, but if Five was around, she had endless amounts of time to stay and chit-chat. Not that he even pretended to be remotely interested, but she ate up every terse smile and head nod, apparently taking them as signs she should come over more often. Viv had no doubt the woman, who was technically closer to Five’s age than her own, wished Viv would suddenly disappear in some sort of tragic accident so she could swoop in and make her move.

Viv rolled her eyes and smiled as she headed for the door. “Sorry, Betty,” she started as she opened the door. “Five’s not home right n—oh!” Viv stopped when she saw it wasn’t Five’s old lady girlfriend, but rather a man she did not recognize. “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?”

The man was taller than Viv, but his build was a little on the scrawny side, with thinning brown hair that was combed to the side and a pockmarked face. His gray suit pants looked too baggy for his frame and were cinched at the waist with a belt, as if they had fit him at one time when he had more weight on him. The white dress shirt he had on was wrinkled and a shabby-looking trench coat hung loosely around his wiry frame.

“Oh…sorry,” the man said slowly and Viv could see he was most likely drunk. “I’m looking for Five Hargreeves? Does he live here?”

Considering she had no idea who this man was and the fact that he was asking about Five had her immediately on edge. It’s not as if Five had friends stopping over. Or had friends, period, for that matter.

Viv crossed her arms over her chest. “And who, may I ask, wants to know?”

The man laughed and ran a hand through his sparse hair, holding out a hand for her to shake. “Right, sorry. I’m Sam. I work with Five.”

Viv hesitated but accepted his handshake. “I’m sorry, you said you work with Five?”

She knew better than to just give up any information about Five’s work, and she was highly skeptical of this man’s claim. For one, Five worked for the Commission and it’s not as if that was the accounting office down the street. They were a highly secretive time-traveling operative filled with dangerous assassins. For another, Five never talked about anyone he worked with. Unless they were pissing him off in a particular way that day. So, to have this man she’d never heard of before showing up at their door and knowing Five lived there was a major red flag.

Sam ran a shaky hand through his hair again, looking embarrassed. “Yeah. I’m sure you don’t have many of us stopping by unannounced, do you?”

“And by ‘us’ you mean…”

The man gave a sheepish smile and then pointed at the ground near his feet. Viv looked down and saw the familiar black briefcase she knew Five and all of the other agents at the Commission used for getting around. It would have been nearly impossible for anyone else to have one, so this guy must have been who he said he was. It put her a little more at ease, but not totally.

Viv nodded. “So, what can I help you with? I’m afraid Five isn’t home right now.”

The man’s face fell a little. “Oh, really? That’s too bad. I don’t have much time, but I wanted to bring him by this bottle of whiskey I know he likes.” He held up a very old looking bottle of some kind of brown alcohol. The label looked old-fashioned, yet brand new. It was also only half-full, presumably the remains of what Sam had already drunk. Viv wasn’t familiar with the name on the label, either, and she was fairly certain she knew all of Five’s preferred drink choices.

“We shared a couple of glasses of it a while back, so I picked up some more on my last mission and figured I’d bring it by,” Sam explained. Seeing Viv’s dubious face, he continued. “It hasn’t been made since the 1860s, and technically we aren’t supposed to take things back across timelines, but I figured one little bottle of whiskey wouldn’t make the whole world collapse, right?”

He laughed at his own joke and Viv could see he actually had a nice and genuine smile, even if he was a bit tipsy. His story seemed legit, although it was still weird that Five had never mentioned him to her at all. Although now that she thought about it, he didn’t really tell her much at all about the Commission; for both of their sakes. For all she knew, maybe he had a boatload of friends down there. Maybe he was the life of the party.

She gave him a smile, softening up a little. “No, the world seems to still be in one piece. And don’t worry, I won’t tell. Five once brought me back a bottle of perfume from 1923 Paris, so I think we’re safe.”

He chuckled and then they both stood there awkwardly until he cleared his throat. “Well, just tell him I stopped by, I guess.”

Seeing his disappointed face made Viv feel sorry for him, especially when she saw that it had started to rain. He looked so sad and pathetic standing there in his baggy clothes, drunk on Old West whiskey, and seemingly lonely. She wasn’t sure why, but something about him tugged at her heartstrings and she didn’t want to leave him alone in the rain.

“Why don’t you come in? Five should be home soon, you can wait for him if you’d like.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be too much trouble.”

“No, no, really, I insist. Come on in. I’m Vivian, by the way; Five’s girlfriend.”

Sam followed her inside and she shut the door behind them. She then led him into the kitchen, where she offered him a seat at the table. He sat down heavily, almost missing the chair entirely in his altered state, leaving the black briefcase next to him on the floor.

“This is a really nice place you have here,” he marveled as he glanced around their simple kitchen.

Viv looked surprised. “Really? Well, thank you, but it’s not much. There weren’t too many apartments in the area that I could afford at the time I moved in.”

“So, you lived here first and Five moved in with you?”

“Yeah,” she said with a laugh. “We met, fell in love, and he moved in here. I was never intending on having a roommate, but you never know what life will bring, right?”

Sam looked at her with an odd expression; one that Viv wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“And life brought you Number Five, the assassin, huh?” he asked.

That was a weird question and Viv hesitated for a moment. “Uh…yeah, I guess it did.”

“You know, Five never mentioned you when we shared that whiskey,” Sam said; his eyes seeming to harden just a little. “He also said he lived in a shit hole place, all alone. But this is definitely not a shit hole and he clearly isn’t alone.”

Viv swallowed nervously. “Well, that was probably before we met. He was kind of a loner before that.”

Sam gave a low chuckle and he looked around the kitchen again, seeming to take in his surroundings in detail and soaking it all up. Then he was back to eyeing Viv up. He still had the same friendly smile on his face, but she could see something about it had changed.

“Aren’t we all,” he mumbled. “He’s a lucky guy, though. Ending up with someone as pretty as you.”

Vivian shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “Um, oh. Thank you.”

It was quickly becoming clear that inviting this man in had not been a good idea. Viv cursed herself for having such a bleeding heart sometimes. She should have followed her initial instinct about him. She just hoped Five would be home soon.

Trying to change the subject, Viv pointed to the bottle on the table. “So, you said you and Five spent some time together at the Commission? Five’s not exactly everyone’s cup of tea, so how did that come about?”

Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg of the other. “Well, you’re right about that. Five is not exactly Mr. Friendly, at least around there. But he must have been in a good mood one day and decided to sit and chat with me. Although, maybe the whiskey was more of the motivator. Anyway, once we got to talking, we realized we had a lot in common.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we both ended up working for the Commission out of necessity rather than desire, but I won’t bore you with those details about myself. He was kind of a loner like you said, and so am I. And I could tell he had a lot of hostility towards most of the world. He knew the unfairness of life and how some people have it good and some don’t. That’s just the way it goes. Unfortunately, he and I got dealt one of life’s shitty hands and had been living with it our whole lives.” Sam stopped and looked at Vivian, again with that weird look in his eyes. “At least, until he met you, apparently. Now he seems to have the good life; coming home to this nice place with you waiting for him, while I’m stuck in my piece of shit house eating microwave dinners for one every night. That is, when I’m not putting a bullet in some poor bastard’s head.”

He chuckled at that and Vivian attempted a smile. This man was appearing to become more unhinged by the minute and she wasn’t sure how to keep up this conversation anymore.

“I know doing what you do, and for whom, can be extremely hard and I’m sorry. But I’m sure things will change for you. Everyone deserves to be happy, and to have love.”

Sam stared at her with unfocused eyes as he processed her words. Viv could see the wheels turning in his head and she suddenly felt very much in danger. Why had she let this guy in their home? The hairs on the backs of her arms stood up.

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” Sam said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Maybe I’d be happy, too, if I had someone like you to come home to every day. Someone young and pretty to take care of me.”

The tone of his voice and look in his eyes were dangerous, and Viv instinctively began to stand up and back away. “You know, you’re making me a little uncomfortable. I think you should leave.”

Despite his unsteadiness from the booze, Sam was quick. The kitchen chair he had been sitting in fell over with a loud bang as he sprang up, grabbing her arm in the process.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes wide. “Please. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Viv tried to pull her arm away. “Let go of me!”

“Please, just sit back down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You are hurting me! Let go of my arm!” she cried as she desperately tried to free herself from his grasp.

He took hold of her with his other hand so that he was firmly gripping her by both her upper arms with surprising strength. Shaking her, he yelled in her face. “I am not hurting you! Just stop! Stop and listen!”

“No! Let me go!” she yelled back, struggling against him and trying to kick at his shins or anywhere else she could reach.

“Stop doing that, or else…” he hissed.

“Or else what? If you think Five’s not going to lose his fucking mind when he finds out you grabbed me like this, then you’re even crazier than I thought.”

“I AM NOT CRAZY! DON’T CALL ME CRAZY!” he screamed; his face contorted with fury.

Viv flinched and she started struggling harder. That’s when she saw Sam’s eyes move off of her and down to the ground near where he had been sitting. A white-hot panic started to rise up inside of her when she realized what he was looking at. The briefcase.

She couldn’t let him get to it. Not when he also had ahold of her. There was no telling where or when she would end up. With all of her strength, her adrenaline pumping, Viv fought as hard as she could against him. Kicking and pulling, she managed to yank him off balance, causing him to knock into the kitchen table, upsetting the bottle of whiskey and sending it tumbling to the ground. They continued to fight against one another, their shoes crunching in the broken glass.

When Viv lost her balance, she managed to free one of her hands, catching herself on the way down. Her hand landed on a piece of glass, the sharp edge slicing into her palm. With a last-ditch effort, she tried to reach out and grab her phone off of the table. At the same time, Sam reached for the briefcase. Viv watched in horror as she saw his hand latch onto the handle at the same time that she felt her fingers slipping across the screen of her phone. Then she felt the familiar feeling of being sucked into nothingness, her stomach lurching, as they both disappeared in a flash of light.

It was a miracle that Five even remembered what street Sam lived on. He had only mentioned it once, during a drunken conversation one night as they both slugged down the gasoline passing as whiskey in the Commission break room. Five had remembered because it was about a block away from where he used to live; before he met Vivian. It was in a shit part of town, but that would actually play to his advantage now. It was less likely anyone would pay attention to gunshots or other signs of violence when you’re already in a crime-filled neighborhood. Not that Five didn’t know how to cover his tracks. He was a professional, after all.

The fact that he wasn’t sure which run-down house was Sam’s posed a problem, along with the fact that he could have taken Viv anywhere and to any time. If that were the case, he was going to have to go to more extreme measures to get her back, including breaking Commission protocol. Which he was more than willing to do.

But as he drove slowly up the street with his headlights off, Five was granted a small amount of luck. A light was on inside one of the houses and Five could see clearly into the front window. On a table in the living room was the briefcase. He didn’t see Sam or Viv inside, but it was most definitely a Commission issued case.

“I’ve got you now, you piece of shit,” Five mumbled out loud as he parked the car a few houses down.

The rain was coming down hard and Five was soaked through in a matter of seconds as he hurried down the uneven sidewalk, his shoes splashing through the puddles. He didn’t want to risk being seen by blinking out in the open, so he waited until he was standing on the front porch of Sam’s house. The rain leaked down through the cracks in the rotting awning above him. After another quick peek inside the window, and seeing no one in the front room, Five teleported inside.

He took a second to take in his surroundings. Resisting the urge to call out for Viv, he remained silent and started making his way toward what he assumed would be the kitchen, his Glock held firmly in his left hand. There was no one there, but on top of a wooden cutting board on the worn and peeling countertop, was a meat cleaver. It caught Five’s eye, and since he is never one to turn down the convenience of a sharp weapon up for grabs, he left the kitchen with his gun in one hand and the cleaver in the other.

Five passed by a small, empty bathroom, and then came to a bedroom at the end of the hall. The door was closed and when he tried the handle, it was locked. The door was old and flimsy looking, so he didn’t hesitate to give one strong kick, cracking the wooden frame and splintering the door so that it swung open. As soon as he saw her, he felt immediate relief and horror wash over him.

“Vivian!” he cried, forgetting all of his training and not surveilling the rest of the room first. If he had been watching someone else doing the exact same thing, he would have told them they were brain-dead and lacked critical thinking skills. It was such a rookie move. But his emotions had taken over and he only saw her.

Viv was tied up to a wooden chair, arms behind her, with a blindfold over her eyes and a piece of duct tape over her mouth. She was frantically mumbling something when she heard Five’s voice, but it was unintelligible from behind the tape.

“Shit,” Five whispered as he hurried over, kneeling down in front of her, and placing the gun and knife on the ground. He immediately started to undo the blindfold. “Oh my god, Vivie, I’m so sorry. It’s ok, I’m here. I’m going to get you out of here,” he was saying as he yanked it away from her eyes.

Viv blinked into the sudden brightness, but then her eyes widened in fear as she looked at Five. Five assumed it was from shock and he continued to talk to her and assure her it would be ok as he carefully stripped the tape away from her mouth.

“I’ve got you, angel, don’t worry,” he said, right as he freed her mouth and she took a deep breath in.

“Five! Behind you!”

Five turned around, just in time to see Sam emerging from the bedroom closet with a wild look in his eyes. In his hand he had some sort of small device and he was coming their way. Five tried to grab one of his weapons off the floor next to him, but it was too late. Sam was quicker, and before he knew what was happening, Five fell to the floor in a heap; convulsing violently as electrical currents traveled throughout his entire body.

The stun gun Sam used was a standard-issued weapon from his employer and was given to every field agent, along with a Glock. The electrical charge from these particular guns were much stronger than what any modern-day policeman or SWAT member carried. Word around the halls was that it once took down a full-size grizzly bear with one zap. Sam wasn’t letting up on the trigger as he leaned over Five’s body, pressing the device into the back of his neck and watching with satisfaction as he was electrocuted over and over again.

Because Five was soaked through from the rain, the electrical shock was amplified as it continued in an endless loop through his body while he writhed and groaned on the floor. Five let out a grating cry, his body flickering with a pulsing blue light as he tried to use his own electrical power to counter the attack, but he wasn’t strong enough. Viv watched in horror as the light faded away and he became silent, even as his body continued to contort and seize right in front of her.

“Five! No! No! Stop, you’re killing him!” she screamed, her voice breaking and her eyes filling with tears. She tried in vain to break from her restraints. “Stop! Please! Five!”

Sam finally stopped, tossing the weapon to the side so that it skittered under a beat-up dresser. He was breathing hard as he looked at Viv and then at Five’s limp, unmoving body at his feet. Viv started sobbing loudly and she hung her head as the tears flowed down her face and onto her lap.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered. Then he spoke louder, but his voice was trembling. “I had to do it. He was going to take you away. I’m going to let you go, I told you that, but I need you to listen to me first and you’re not listening. All I want is for you to sit here and talk to me, and maybe stay with me for a night. But you weren’t listening, and so I had to tie you up, but I didn’t want to. He was going to take you away from me, and I can’t let that happen. Not until you stay here for a while.”

Viv lifted her head slowly, strings of tangled hair sticking to the tears on her cheeks, her eyes narrowed in a hateful glare. “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO! YOU ARE A CRAZY, PATHETIC LOSER AND I FUCKING HATE YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME? I HATE YOU!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice cracking before she started sobbing again.

Five was still lying unmoving on the floor, but his eyes were open, and to Vivian’s relief, she saw he was breathing, although it was shallow. Sam looked down at him with a glower. Then he nudged him in the side with the toe of his shoe and Five let out a weak moan.

“This is your fault, Five. If you had just stayed put and let me handle this, it wouldn’t have gone this far. But now you ruined it.” Sam squatted down next to Five, leaning in closer so that he could hear. “I wasn’t going to hurt her, you know. But now…well, now you’ve gone and fucked it all up.”

His voice grew louder and more desperate. “We were the same, you and I! So, how did you get so god damn special? I thought we were friends; I thought we had a connection. But then I find out you’re living this perfect little life, with your fancy apartment and your pretty girl. But what about me, huh? Where’s my perfect life? My happy ending?”

Sam stood up and looked at Vivian, although he was directing his words at Five. “I was going to kill you and keep her, but now I have a better idea. Since I know you’re currently paralyzed but can still see and hear everything that’s going on, I think maybe I’ll kill her instead. Then you can watch and listen as your perfect little life is ripped away from you until you’re just like me again. All alone and mad at the world.”

“You stupid piece of shit,” Viv growled out. “He never did anything to you.”

“YES, HE DID!” Sam yelled right in her face. “He took my life! I deserve this life, not him. He’s killed way more people than I have; I’ve seen his records. I know his reputation. He might as well be Satan himself! So why don’t you tell me why he gets you and I get nothing?”

Viv looked him dead in the eye. “Because Five is good and decent, and he knows how to love others. He feels remorse for all of those lives he took. You, on the other hand, are nothing but a giant pile of dog shit in a cheap suit. And no one will ever love you.”

Sam smiled. “At first, I wasn’t going to enjoy this, but now I might.” He bent down to pick up Five’s Glock which was lying next to his immobile body. “I think I’ll shoot you in the head with his own gun. That feels poetic to me, don’t you think?”

He raised his arm and pointed the gun right at Viv’s head. She squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering as a few tears leaked out. “Five, I love you,” she said quietly, knowing they would be her last words, and hoping he could hear her. Just as she was trying to steady herself against the pain and sudden death that would be upon her any second, she heard a high-pitched scream and she opened her eyes.

Sam was standing right where he had been, his face frozen in horror as Five’s gun dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor. He slowly sank to his knees before falling face first onto the ground, collapsing onto his stomach with a loud and painful groan. As he fell over, Viv could see a meat cleaver was embedded in the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades; the shining metal handle sticking straight up in the air as blood seeped from around the blade. Viv looked up to see Five falling to his knees next to Sam. He was shaking and breathing hard, but alive and apparently able to move again.

“Oh my god, Five! Are you ok?”

Five nodded slowly and lifted his head weakly to look at Viv. “Yeah. Are you?”

She nodded her head and started to quietly cry again. Then another pitiful groan came from the injured body on the floor. Sam was stirring and trying to get his arms under him in a futile attempt to get up. Five seemed to gain more strength as he slowly hauled himself up to standing again. He placed a foot on Sam’s lower back, grabbing the handle of the cleaver and yanking it out of the mutilated flesh beneath him. Sam screamed again while fresh blood began pouring out of the wound. Thick drops of scarlet red dripped from the cleaver and onto the old and dented hardwood floor beneath them.

Five was still unsteady on his feet, but he leaned down and pulled Sam’s face up off the ground by a fistful of hair.

“You made a fatal error, my friend,” Five warned. “You have no idea what I am capable of. But you’re about to find out because you have fucked with the wrong man.”

Sam breathed out a shaky laugh. “You think you’re better than me. But we’re the same.”

Five clenched his teeth and held the blood-stained meat cleaver under Sam’s throat. “Listen, you pathetic waste of space; you are wrong! We are not the same, and we never have been,” he hissed.

Sam let out a more maniacal laugh. “We are though. You just can’t admit it.”

Five got ready to draw the sharp blade across Sam’s neck. He wanted to split his throat open from ear to ear and watch him bleed out slowly and in agony. One corner of the cold steel pressed into his skin and a rivulet of blood trickled out.

“Five, don’t,” Viv said suddenly.

Five didn’t look up as he paused. “He needs to die, Vivie.”

“Not like that. Please, I just want to go home. Let’s go home, ok?”

Five looked up at her sorrowful face and knew she was right. He needed to get her back home. But he still wasn’t about to let this fucker go, even if the odds of him surviving the horrific wound in his back were slim. He let go of Sam’s hair, letting his face fall with a loud thunk onto the floor. Then he picked up his pistol and pressed it into the back of Sam’s skull. He glanced at Viv as a warning to let her know to look away.

“Lights out, you stupid fuck,” Five growled before pulling the trigger.

BANG! Sam’s skull exploded, sending blood and brain matter everywhere. Vivian flinched and looked away, but Five watched with satisfaction as the grisly contents oozed out of the gaping hole in the dead man’s head. Then he dropped his gun and hurried over to Viv, who was still bound to the chair.

As soon as her hands were free, she threw her arms around Five’s shoulders and he pulled her tightly into him. She burst into tears again, sobbing into his shoulder as they both knelt on the ground. He kissed her temple and smoothed her hair.

“Vivie…look at me,” he said as he held her face in his trembling hands. “Are you hurt at all? I saw blood on your phone.”

She shook her head while more tears ran down her cheeks. “No, I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Five, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, I was stupid and I let him in, he said you were friends, I wasn’t thinking. Five, I’m so sorry.” She started crying loudly again, touching the side of his face with her hand. “I thought I lost you. I thought you were dead. And it was all my fault.”

Five closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers, his own tears threatening to spill over. “Darling, you have nothing to be sorry for, ok? You did nothing wrong. I just…god, I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you. Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Five, you’re the one that almost died!”

Five gave her a smile and kissed her softly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. You should know that by now.”

She let out a small laugh, sniffing back her tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, angel.” He glanced very quickly to the dead body on the floor and then back to Viv. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”

She nodded and they stood up, Five still shaky and unsteady on his feet. Viv held on to him for support. “What’s going to happen now? Aren’t the cops going to come after us?”

Five shook his head. “No, we’re safe. He works for the Commission, so he’s their problem to deal with. Agents die all the time in the field. He’s just one more spare cog in the wheel that won’t be missed.”

On the way out of the house, Five remembered the briefcase. He grabbed it off the table and turned to Vivian. “I don’t think either of us should be driving. I have to bring this back anyway, so do you mind?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. The sooner we can get home the better. We can get the car later.”

With a nod, Five programmed the case, took Viv’s hand in his, and in less than two seconds they were back in their apartment. As soon as they arrived, though, Five collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees. He was still so weak from being electrocuted almost to death and now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, it was starting to catch up with him.

“Five! Oh my god…”

Viv put her arms around his waist as he leaned against her and she helped him up. Tears started to form in her eyes again as they traveled over Five’s exhausted face.

“I am so sorry, Five…this is all my fault…and now you’re hurt…”

“Vivie, I’ll be fine. And it’s not your fault.”

She could see he was starting to sway on his feet again and she nodded before realizing he was covered in a splatter of quickly drying blood. “Come on, you need to get cleaned up first and then you can lie down, ok?”

Viv led Five to the bathroom where she had him sit on the top of the toilet seat while she helped him undress down to his underwear. She didn’t trust that he was strong enough to take a full shower, so she wiped up his face, neck, and chest with a wet washcloth; the dried blood that was painting his skin gradually fading away. Five closed his eyes from both exhaustion and the feel of her touch as she gently washed his latest sin from his body.

After he was cleaned off, Viv washed her own hands and bandaged the cut on her palm, and they both collapsed onto their bed, too tired to turn back the covers. Viv crawled next to Five as he lay on his side, and he wrapped her in his arms with her face buried in his chest. They both let out a long sigh and then she looked up at him. With her hand on his cheek, she kissed him, her warm lips pressed to his as he kissed her just as deeply in return and stroked her hair.

“Are you going to be ok?” he asked her quietly.

“Yeah, I’ll be ok. I’m pretty tough, you know,” she said with a smile.

Five laughed and squeezed her tighter. “I know you are.” He was silent for a minute before speaking again. “I’m sorry, Vivie. I’m sorry that I can’t ever seem to escape the hell that follows me everywhere. All I want to do is keep you safe, but I seem to be failing in that department.”

“I never feel safer than when I’m with you.”

Five didn’t respond to that and was quiet again. “I’d do it again, you know.”

“What?”

“Kill anyone that tried to hurt you. Without a second thought. And I’m sorry because I know that’s not what you want to hear, but if protecting you means I have to be the bad guy, then so be it.”

Viv looked into his eyes and smiled sadly. “Five, you’re never the bad guy. You’re my own personal superhero and you will always be the good guy. Because you are good inside. I need you to remember that.”

Five chuckled. “I don’t know about that, but if I am, it’s only because of you, angel.”

Bonus: Smut (as a little treat)

It took a few days before Five was completely healed from his electrical ass-beating. He couldn’t even blink a few feet without the power leaving his body and feeling like he was going to faint. And even though he loved that Vivian took care of him, he was getting pretty fucking annoyed with getting scolded every time he tried to do something she didn’t think he could handle. He reminded her several times that he had made it through four and a half decades of self-preservation in a barren hellscape, so unloading a bag of groceries was probably not going to be the end of him. But she just gave him a pointed look that told him she didn’t give a shit what he said and then he shut up again. After the third day, though, she finally decided he was well enough to return to his normal activities.

Viv was at the kitchen sink when Five came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. “I have a surprise for you,” he told her with a grin.

She sighed heavily, continuing to rinse off the plate she was holding. “If it’s what I’m currently feeling being jabbed up against my butt right now, I hate to disappoint you, but I’ve seen it before. Several times.”

Five gave her ass a pinch so that she squealed and then scooped her up in his arms, the dish clattering into the sink. “That’s only part of it,” he answered before he teleported them into the bedroom and onto the bed with a bounce. “I can blink again,” he said with a cocky smirk.

Viv scowled at him, fighting against her smile, and she smacked him on the arm. “Five Hargreeves, you are the worst! What have I told you about non-consensual blinks?”

Five laughed and shrugged. “It was worth it.”

Before she had a chance to respond, he was dragging her on top of him and pulling her in for a kiss, his hand tangling in her hair. She immediately gave in and made a little moaning noise into his mouth.

“Besides,” he said as he pulled away with a smile. “I know you secretly love it.”

Viv shook her head. “I don’t. But I do love a lot of other things you can do.”

Five nuzzled his face into her neck and placed a line of soft kisses along the underside of her jaw. “How about I do a few of those things right now?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” she said quietly while she started tugging up his shirt.

He chuckled as her hand slid over his hard abdomen and chest. “Trying to undress me already, my love?”

“You know I hate it when you have clothes on. I’d much rather have you walking around naked all day, just for my viewing pleasure and for easy access.”

Five laughed again and then flipped her over so that Viv was on her back, and he sat up on his knees, pulling his black t-shirt over his head before leaning down again. The muscles in his arms and back flexed as he held himself over her. He pressed the hard crotch of his pants into her thigh and he flashed her his sexy, crooked smile.

“If anyone needs to be walking around naked all day, it’s you. So let’s start there.”

Viv smiled and let him take his time with her, softly running his lips over her stomach and chest before lifting her shirt over her head. When he moved to tug her pants off, she stretched out long, closing her eyes and sighing. She felt his hand drifting over her legs and hip, and around to her ass where he gave it a small squeeze. Then he repositioned himself between her legs and she felt the warmth of his breath on her inner thigh as he placed his hands on either side of her hips.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he murmured.

Viv let out a quiet moan when she felt his mouth and tongue drawing hot lines over her skin, punctuated with tiny nips of his teeth. When he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down a little bit before covering the entire damp area between her legs with his mouth, she jerked her hips up with a whine.

Five leisurely sucked and licked at the thin fabric that separated him from that hot piece of heaven just underneath. He was teasing himself just as much as her, because the wetter she got, the more he could taste. And the more he could taste, the more his feral instincts kicked in and he wanted to devour her.

When he finally threw the lace underpants somewhere to the side, he was already on his knees between her legs, holding her tightly by her thighs, as he watched her rocking her hips up in anticipation. She looked up at him under hooded eyes, the corner of her bottom lip caught in her teeth, before sucking in a loud breath.

“God, you drive me fucking crazy,” he growled before immediately getting back to the matter at hand.

Five always knew the best ways to make Vivian a trembling mess, and one of those ways was to eat her out like she was the first meal he’d had in years. She liked when he was slow and gentle; flicking his tongue over all of her most sensitive places and taking his time. But when he lost all restraint and consumed her entire pussy, groaning and shoving his tongue inside of her while sloppily sucking at her clit, that’s when she lost her damn mind.

It always came with a slight risk of bodily harm for Five, since she would be thrusting her hips up into him so wildly, and pushing his face harder into her that it was a wonder he didn’t end up with a neck injury or suffocating to death. But he figured if that’s how he went out, he’d be ok with that.

“Five! Oh…my…fucking…god…YES!!!”

She pushed herself harder into his face with each word until she was screaming unintelligible words and Five could feel her thighs trembling and her body shaking as her back arched off the bed. He continued greedily lapping her up until she relaxed again and fell back against the pillow.  When he sat back on his knees, he was breathing hard and fast. He pushed his hair off his forehead as he licked at his lips; her warm, liquid sex coating his mouth and dripping down his chin.

While Viv lay there, catching her breath, she watched as Five wiped his face with the back of his hand, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a tiny smirk. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes told her all she needed to know. Now it was his turn and she was about to get railed. Hard.

He unbuckled his belt and opened the fly of his pants, taking out his hard cock before shoving her legs further apart with his knees. When he leaned over the top of her, covering her body with his own, he kissed her long and deeply; making sure she got a good taste of herself on his tongue. Her already soaked cunt accepted his dick with ease as he sunk himself inside of her.

With one hand holding himself up and the other gripping and pulling her leg up higher around his waist, Five started rhythmically thrusting into her, and moving his face to her neck.

“Vivie,” he breathed against her skin and she closed her eyes and dug her fingers into his back. “I can’t live without you, angel.”

 “I’m yours forever, Five.”

Five continued to fuck her hard but slowly, the buckle of his belt that was still dangling from his opened pants clinking with each push of his hips. He was groaning and biting into the crook of her neck as he kept his face buried there and Vivian clutched his body to hers. In between heavy pants, he told her all of the things he needed her to know. Every little thought and emotion that made its way to the forefront of his brain. If he didn’t tell her, the moment may pass and she’d never know.

“You are my whole world, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I am nothing without you. I love you so much, Vivian, so much.” He started moaning louder as his pace got faster and he held himself over her again to look down at her face. She smiled up at him, even as she let her head fall back again with a cry from how good he was feeling as he pounded into her.

“Five…”, she whimpered. “I love you, too...you feel so good like this.”

Her words acted like some sort of switch inside his brain, and after a few more seconds, Five was unleashing his hot cum inside of her while he pressed his forehead into her shoulder and groaned low in his throat. As his body relaxed, he stayed where he was, lying on top of her and breathing hard against her neck. She stroked his back and hair and ran her fingers lightly down his arms. He felt her lips press against his ear and she sighed happily.

“No one can ever take me away from you, Five,” Viv whispered.

Five kissed the side of her neck and then her lips. He didn’t say anything in return. Mostly because he knew she was right. Because if anyone ever tried to take her away again, he had no problem slaughtering everyone in his path to get to her.

[nanjokei]

further guidance for newcomers coming from reddit

hi arriving redditors. here are some things i don't see most posts mention. this is for people who conquered the baby steps of joining the site. i think they're pretty important! also me clarifying on some stuff i've seen people word very vaguely consistently in their guides

under the cut because it's a chunky set of bullet points! with a few that also discuss how to keep yourself in a safe and fun browsing environment for yourself and others (mostly quality of life)

if you have any questions either send me an ask (anonymously is ok too) or reply to the post

you can enable a custom theme that shows on the web in your blog settings, if you so wish (blog settings > visibility) and then (custom theme toggle to on) this is the classic tumblr experience, but it's ok to want to hide your blog from the public. however you won't be able to link stuff on your blog to people without tumblr accounts

you can find custom tumblr themes by searching resource blogs like theme hunter or just in the tags in general (like "tumblr theme" or just "theme" and see where the other tags you may find to refine your search takes you)

tumblr is currently trying to enact changes to appeal to "new users" that make the website less friendly to its current inhabitants, such as fucking with quality of life and muscle memory and even stuff integral to the culture of the site. if you see people complaining, i highly advise against going "this sounds kind of nothingburger" and assisting in sending tickets to support the drive against such changes

there is a 250 post per day limit. you probably won't hit it though.. maybe? but people used to make post limit blogs (seperate email) for that. but that is for heavy usage users.

you can make as many sideblogs as you want. you are free to divulge whether or not it's you. of course use common sense to gauge whether or not it matters. but side blogs can be anything: maybe you want to categorize things, maybe you wanna make one into a huge fan page/blog for a specific hobby/celeb/show/game/etc, maybe a quieter space, maybe posts you feel don't belong on your blog, maybe even a blog where you reblog resources to exclusively. the possibilities are endless! (maybe not for porn, it's a little harder to skirt by these days even with muh community labels)

a lot of posts are incredibly vague about whether or not you can leave comments on reblogs. i think it truly depends. for example, if it's praise for artwork, i feel like it is truly best left in the tags. the artist can see it still! it shows up in their notifs when you reblog. in comparison, when it comes to funny text posts and pictures, you can comment as you like, but consider TPO (time place occasion). it helps to check the notes (comments only filter) to see if the quip or comment you wanna make has already been made or if OP made further comments later. again, it's a call to use your judgement and everyone has a different tolerance for this kind of thing

i see many people or perhaps most came from LGBTQ+ centric subreddits so i am surprised i'm not seeing this mentioned often: there are unfortunately a lot of terfs here. please stay safe. install shinigami eyes and engage in blocking sprees whenever possible.

in account settings, not blog settings, there is a section called "content you see". it has filtered tags and filtered post content. the difference is filtered tags is specifically for tags, for example, if you want to hide a certain show you don't like, you can have the site apply a peek-a-boo filter on it (this content contains #TAG, as in click to view). you ask, what if the person on my dash doesn't tag it as that? that's fine! it also takes into account the original poster's tags. the OP didn't tag it? then filtered post content might help. MIGHT. it's pretty helpful and unlike twitter's mute list, as far as my experience, it is not broken. for example, if you write [SHOW NAME THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE] in plain letters (with aliases as seperate entries just to be safe) it will filter any post that has the words in the body of the post. pretty useful! use this to curate your dash further or even filter out triggers.

speaking of tags. a lot of people are also vague about this. i'll say it clearly. you can add whatever tags you want to a reblog. there's no limit (aside from character lim per tag)! there's no social faux pas, unless you're being backhanded at someone's creative work, like reblogging just to dunk on it or going "i like the art but not the character" etc. when it comes to your own posts, try to avoid tagging irrelevant tags (for example, if you're making a lot of posts that are tangentially about cardcaptor sakura, think about if it belongs in the tag or not. think of it as whether or not it deserves an OC flair on reddit). again, people's tolerance differs, but especially on older media and slow tags people do not appreciate random tangential text posts (for example "i wanna watch ccs!" and nothing else)

in terms of culture, tumblr has a weird balance between "you can ask for context" and "lurk for 10,000 moar years". i would not know myself. i've been here for 12+ years *shrug* you'll have to gauge it for yourself. most things you can google "[tumblr user] callout" and figure out from there LOL (yes that's usually what happens). i DO encourage trying to garner it from context, especially for terms.

due to the looser moderation(?) on here, LGBTQ+ and other minorities use their own discretion reclaim slurs freely. join in, or put the slurs in your filters. it's fine not to join in as that's your personal comfort, but this is a heads up that the culture is like this since i'm not sure how the moderation is in places like r/196 are. (sorry i used reddit for entirely different things ><)

DO NOT TAG D0NATION POSTS WITH #D0NATION OR ANY OTHER VARIATION. this is SO important. it's best not to tag donation posts AT ALL. tumblr internally flags them and suppresses the post. just reblog silently (d0nate if you can) and move on (censoring just in case lol)

search is useless for finding specific posts. give up before you even try. your best bets are google, asking for help on the dashboard, or just hoping it shows up on your dashboard one day (it probs will, maybe not immediately when you need it though)

i called old tags "slow" but not dead earlier: tags Do Not Die (though some just kind of randomly get wiped or lose posts, idk, it is some post-2018 indexing weirdness) so you can find fanart and posts from 2012 and it's ok to reblog! the essence of tumblr is the continued circulation of people's creations

please do not repost screenshots of tumblr posts unless they are no longer accessible (reblogs locked for example) 😭 i am seeing this happen already. this is the one thing from reddit you're gonna have to let go of. twitter and other place screenshots are OK (probably, some people don't like them). but don't let your page look like one of those r/(etc) post aggregate bots on twitter is what i'm saying. once you explore a tag enough times you'll know what is usually appropriate to post (usually derivative meme templates are OK, but don't overdo it (tho this just falls under "dont spam") (also this is MY personal preference, so if the climate of the tag houses a lot of memes, go ahead!)

in general reposting content that isn't your's is kinda eh. especially reposting people's art without explicit permission. there are art reposters who in the modern day usually ask for permission, of course there are internet spelunkers who repost content from old web and dead sites. there's a lot of nuance, but i highly discourage reposting things you didn't make yourself unless it's stuff like official art and whatnot. photography and other stuff from other people, use your judgement. and as an aside i know "stolen memes" are r/196 and other meme subreddit cultures but it's not exactly appreciated here and i feel like if the reposting gets out of hand tumblr users might get real tired of it. the humor isn't really the same here in that sense, i suggest posting them in a sideblog that archives such things so they aren't lost and/or keeping them in your community tags. ofc no one can stop you!! but the whole highly derivative fried meme thing is very reddit. the culture could not be more different even if we are similar in many ways. i mean this in the nicest way possible >_< if you're not sure, DON'T REPOST.

this is just advice from me, but when liveblogging a show, it's nice to tag it with a unique tag, such as #[your name/nick] plays [game]. i find it's ok to tag series name to some posts that are more substantial, people are happy to see others enjoy what they love, but using a unique tag also helps people track YOUR liveblog since they may save the tag to look at :)

put your age or whether or not you're an adult somewhere where people can see, (and your pronouns too or lackthereof). whether or not if it's on your bio, or an about page, or a carrd. please. it's a matter of curation and safety. some people don't wanna follow minors by accident and vice versa, just as a means to curate their space

people write alt text and image descriptions in the post bodies pretty often. yes it's built into tumblr, but either some people forget or the feature... refuses to work that time. yes it's BROKEN. if you feel like you can contribute alt text for an image in an adequate fashion, go ahead!

try not to reblog people's personal posts. asking people never hurts!

you can restrict non-followers from replying to your posts, or turn off replies all together. as far as i know it's not possible for seperate posts unfortunately, just a blog-wide toggle. when replying to someone specifically, be sure to @ them so they can see it!

for a long time, only the first 5 tags you used in an original post mattered. a lot of people still repeat this, but in my experience this seems to have... changed?? i can't say for sure, but my posts appear in tags beyond the first five. just to be sure, tag the most relevant things first! (or not, if you have your own strategy LOL)

you're free to not tag trigger warnings (it's nice to do it for others tho especially if they ask) but please tag flashing images as such. #epilepsy warning, #flashing, #flashing image, #flashing, etc.

REPORT BOT BLOGS. it blocks them for you anyway. just blocking doesn't do anything for anyone

you can add other people to a sideblog to make it a group blog. this is how blogs with mods work, or even collectives, it has a lot of uses in general so have fun with it! be wary it requires getting someone's email so be safe about that and try to do it with people you trust.

this is advice from me since i noticed after publishing this post that a lot of reddit users don't tag things. you don't have to btw!! but my advice that brightens up the website: if you reblog cool art, writing, music or photography (taken by OP) and you like it a lot, i highly recommend leaving compliments in the tags. we live in an age where creative creation is increasingly unappreciated and people are quiet silent— creators get no feedback therefore no encouragememt to keep creating. this is more like a personal plea, but like to reblog ratios have become DIRE. people are apathetic and scared to interact with people's creations even though on here they are actively ecouraged to. if you like art or fic etc i even more highly recommend you reblog it. likes don't do anything! reblogs = more eyes on it. let's support each other's creative endeavors 🩷

don't fall for the trap of trying to make tumblr into reddit, or trying to recreate the feeling of a subreddit. it's not gonna work. try to adapt. it's easier said than done but lol. rome wasn't built in a day. operate your blog like your own space rather than trying to recreate a hub. the tolerance for trying to change tumblr culture is super low and a lot of people who are much meaner than me will probably try to bully the idea into the ground. and people DO get mean. (like playground namecalling, but people have no reservations about it, so it's stuff that would probably get you banned on reddit)

if your post gets traction and the note notifications annoy you, deleting the original post will make the notifs stop coming. a lot of people reblog the post to keep it on their blog then delete the original to effectively "mute" the notifications permanently.

[theoldoor]

It’s midnight and I still can’t sleep bc im thinking abt them again… pls tumblr… ask me stuff I NEED TO BRAINROTT

Going back to my ACTUAL style for this fenrir doodle… oh god how i miss it (and him too)

Pre-Talia Fenrir :3

When he was still being auctioned around as a premium house pet for his looks and his race having the ability to change certain physical parts (him being his genitalia so he’s cooked) cuz they’re succubus/incubus based :P

His tired eyes, facial features, tall frame yet yet angelic colors (fucking shining silky silver hair + eyes like peridot) like that makes him looks uhhh attractive. How can someone look like a devil but has the schemes of an angel type shi idk he looks like a broken angel, its like midnight im ramblign here

You get the gist,,,, i need to rework on his lore though. I want him to be Aventurine’s foil/vice versa, same story but different endings, Same sides of two coins :3

I’m sorry I don’t have much to say rn cuz im tired… but tmr that analysis is coming B3

[idialover]

!!NSFW!!!

My friends and I have a tradition of playing "does this character have sex" whenever we get into a new piece of media, because we always enjoy everything together, and today we spent a few hours discussing TWST charactrs. They found out that I now have a Tumblr blog and told me I should "post our very scientific findings for the interwebs" (Note that we are all between the ages of 16-17, so in the same age group as the characters)

Heartslabyul (general judgement): The virgin one

Riddle: no, and he somehow doesn't even know what sex is. You'd think he'd know with how much he studies about everything you learn in school, so even sex-ed but no, he doesn't know

Ace: gray area, no bitches respectfully, except maybe Deuce, but we couldn't agree on that, he would treat it as "it's just a prank bro, no homo"

Deuce: yeah, sure, I mean he's pretty okay looking, not often tho

Cater: he seems like he'd be a dicord kitten or an insta-thot, he tries but doesn't really succeed, maybe once or twice.

Trey: no, because he actually wears a fedora, unironically. "he's as bland as the flour he uses in his cakes"-my friend#2

Savanaclaw (general judgement): Gahdayumm!!

Leona: YES! absoulutley 100% just look at him, but he'd be one of those lazy tops, is very casual about it, there isn't a lot to say because it's just so obvious that he is 100% a sex haver

Ruggie: Hard to say, he has an Italian souding name so maybe no, he hasn't yet discovered that he can earn quite a lot of money that way, or maybe he has (we couldn't agree on this)

Jack: gay wolf boyfirend fantasy so yes, big buff man go brrrr

Octavinelle (general judgement): ehhhh, fish go brrr

Azul: this was a very hard one to decide but in the end no, no real reason just doesn't seem like he would have it, he's on that alpha buisness grindset

Jade: Yes becazse friend#1 said so (she's a strong Jade stan) and everyone decided to let her have this one, but everybody else generally thinks he is Asexual (friend#1 is also ace)

Floyd: yes, he is bisexual in wicked and scheming ways and everybody is aware of that. Chaos bi, him and Jade are two side of a coin, all or nothing. He flirts by messing with people, mostly Riddle but as I've already said Riddle has no idea what's going on and just thinks Floyd has it out for him

Scarabia (general judgement): This was the hardest one to discuss

Kalim: He is very lovable, but no, for unknown reasons, boy has 0 rizz

Jamil: yeah, ig, normal 17 year old guy, he isn't basic like Trey, but he just doesn't have time because of Kalim

Pomefiore (general judgement): slayyy!

Vil: Yes, and his standards are surprisingly not as high as you'd think, we got very heated about how people often mischaracterize him as a very vain but he just wants people to be themselves and best version of themselves. Good for cardio

Rook: yes, in freaky kinky ways (see Rook alchemy card) he sometimes has touble finding people who are into the same stuff as him

Epel: no, beacause he is an "alpha male" in the worst ways possible

Ignihyde (General judgement): you'd think they be reddit mods, but they actually tumblr sexymen

Idia: yes, he has that disheveled rizz, the more they look like they haven't left the house since 2015 the better. We stan broken men in this household(blog), only on halloween tho that's when his confidence get's a bit better and he becomes and active member of society

Ortho: he is a robot based on a young child! NO!

Diasomnia (General judgement): oooh spooky~~

Malleus: yeah sure

Silver: gray are (they demanded I make that pun, pls forgive me)

Lillia: He is the most slay character, an old vampire/fae obviously yes. He has a lot of experience, best sex haver he's so amazing, Lillia for the win

Sebek: no

Staff (general judgement): a very mixed bag

Crowley: someone somwhere slept with him, he is kinda usless but he gets laid, look at his vacation outfit

Crewel: Definetly, high standards but he is correct, he gets to have high standards, he is the perfect man, not a DILF but also not not one

Trein: yes, loyal to his wife (rip tho), good husband 10/10 would trust him, good man

Vargas: Yeah, he's a typical good looking guy, he has never had a long term relationship but he doesn't want one

Sam: We debated for a long time and decided that yes he does have sex

[fic-tional-fiend]

Stress Reliever

MY FIRST POST HI LMAO I'm not super familiar with Tumblr yet so pls be patient with me :,)

WARNINGS: swearing, smut Word Count: 1,962 The nagging tension Carl felt throughout his body was quite common now, but feeling the same cramps and aches in every one of his muscles every damn night was getting old. And after making an especially long, and rather anxiety inducing run earlier that day, it somehow became that much worse. Nearly getting bit, no matter how many close calls there've been, never got any less terrifying. He forced his legs to carry him up the stairs after hastily finishing dinner with Michonne and his dad, the old floorboards moaning under his weight at each step. 

   Carl's legs threatened to give way beneath him, and the irritation only grew hotter in the back of his mind as he tripped over the last step. He stumbled his way down the hall, and into his room before shutting the door behind him and kicking off his boots. He carefully unraveled the bandage that covered his missing eye, rolled it up and set it on the bedside table. Then grabbing his hat, he tossed it onto his dresser, and let himself flop onto the bed with a light bounce.

   Carl took a slow, deep breath in, rolled over onto his back and let the tightness in his muscles fade as he let out a long sigh. He sat up to tug his flannel off of his tired shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a muffled thud. Lifting a hand up, he dragged it down his face. He still felt sticky from sweating off the relentless heat of the summer day, his shirt uncomfortably sticking to his back, and only then did a shower come to mind. He thought about it for a moment and looked over to the door, light leaking in from the space underneath it. He debated whether he had enough energy to drag himself down the hall to the bathroom, but begrudgingly turned his head to face the wall instead and tried not to think about how filthy he likely was. 

   He reached down to the belt around his waist, undoing the buckle and sliding it through the loops of his jeans. It clattered to the ground with his pants and t-shirt following shortly after. He stared at the textured wall just a few inches from his face, studying the small bumps and hollows that were randomly scattered under the plain beige color that painted his room. The weight in his eyelids seemed to become heavier with each passing moment, and he let them shut as he pulled his sheets up over his waist. Letting out a long breath, he rolled himself onto his stomach and slid his arms under the flattened pillow beneath his head, burying the side of his face into the fabric.

   The silence lingering in the air was somewhat soothing, only broken by his own quiet breaths. But his mind was still racing as it replayed everything that happened that day. Out of everything, the anger at himself for bringing back so little was what kept him stirring. His dad, Rick, had finally trusted him enough to go on a run on his own for the first time, and he basically blew it. He had only managed to scrape together a few rags, and a dirty stuffed giraffe that he thought Judith might take a liking to. 

   He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, convinced that if he just kept his eyes shut then sleep would eventually come to him. But the frustration was only serving to wake up his exhausted brain more. In defeat, he came to terms with the fact that no matter how tired his body felt, his mind wasn't going to stop working anytime soon. He groaned and sat himself up to reach for the small lamp on the table and turned it on with a click. He squinted and he felt his eye begin to water as it adjusted to the sudden light. He then got up to walk to his dresser and kneeled down to open the bottom drawer, rummaging through the dozens of comics he had haphazardly tossed in there after reading them. He sat there looking through each of them in turn, trying to decide which one he could tolerate reading for what had to be the millionth time. He kept moving them one by one, none of them catching his eye for more than a few seconds. Ultimately he gave up and just sat back down, giving himself a mental note to start looking for more comics if he had extra time on his next run.

   He shut off the light and laid back down, settling one arm under his head and lightly toying with the hem of his boxers with the other. He couldn't stop fidgeting, bouncing one foot constantly, his eyes scanning the ceiling back and forth, his brain going over every little detail of the run, he could practically feel his whole body vibrating. His skin felt like it ached against anything that touched it. Somehow the harder he tried to relax, the more his own body resisted. Carl forced himself to sit still, and focused his thoughts on controlling his breathing. He vaguely remembered something his mom had taught him years ago, something about controlling his breaths, and how bringing more oxygen to the brain promotes clearer thinking. "Breathe in for three, out for five," or something along those lines. 

   He kept at it for as long as his patience would allow, counting each second in his head, retaining control of each slow breath he took, but his mind wouldn't cease it's wandering. This time however, it had come up with what might be a solution, or at least a way to get himself to relax or pass the time. It had been a long while since he had felt the need to do so, let alone tried to. He usually fell directly to sleep when he was in his room, and if he didn't, he was usually either too angry, too anxious or too depressed to even think about it. 'Well I don't really have any better ideas,' he thought with a half-assed eyeroll.

   The idea of self pleasuring wasn't foreign to him. Carl had experimented with touching himself on a few occasions, and had awkwardly sat through that portion of "the talk" after his dad had walked in on him trying to relieve some stress one morning. He knew this was a typical thing people did in their spare time, especially young men around his age. And he knew that he could feel himself getting pent up and irritable if we went too long without that relief, but it always felt like more of a chore and less of something to do for fun. 

   Carl hesitated for a moment before he reached down between his legs and palmed himself through his boxers, gently massaging himself. Slowly he slid his hand under the elastic band and gently gripped his soft shaft. He gave himself a light squeeze then continued with a few experimental pumps of his fist, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to form a decent rhythm. He let himself relax as his imagination began to roam. His mind wandered around to anything he could think of that might get him hard, the women he had seen in the magazines he's read, the dirty things he used to overhear Ron talk about, but his thoughts kept trailing back to Enid, the only girl his age around. He liked Enid just fine, he didn't have any negative feelings for her, but she didn't seem quite that interested in any of the people in Alexandria, much less the kids her age. That suited Carl just fine, he wasn't a huge talker anyway, he was more of a "people watcher" as his dad called it. He liked to observe those around him; watch what they did and how they acted, how they moved and how they carried themselves. Like the way Enid's hips swayed when she walked by, that in particular always caught his eye. 

He adjusted his grip slightly and kept slowly pumping until he felt himself twitch rhythmically in his hand as his erection began to grow. He sighed at the feeling and he suddenly wondered why he didn't do this more often. His expression softened and he felt himself begin to relax as he let himself give in to the pleasant sensations. A few quiet moans escaped him as he propped up his leg, but then paused for a moment to slide his boxers down his hips just far enough for his now fully hard cock to pop out. 

   He sat up on his elbow and spat into his right hand before getting back to his rhythm. Every few strokes he would use his thumb to play with the tip and smear the small amount of precum around the head. Carl began to pant as he picked up his pace, closing his eye and letting his head fall back. His wavy brown locks pooled around his shoulders and he could only partially bite back a moan when he continuously tightened his grip, his hips bucking up into his hand. Every pump felt like it sent electricity from the tip of his dick, all the way up his spine and into his foggy brain. He hissed through clenched teeth when he wasn't cursing under his breath, only focusing on the feeling that was overtaking his entire body. For just a short time, there were no more sore muscles or aching joints from long days, only this, only the pleasure shooting its way through every nerve and settling in his stomach. 

   The coil in his groin was making itself known, and the intensity was quickly becoming overwhelming. Nothing else was in this boy's brain as he jerked himself off, the only thing he could think was "just a little more, just a little more". All of it was too much but somehow not enough at the same time, he couldn't get enough of it. The desperation for his release was becoming unbearable, and he was struggling to keep himself quiet. The moans he tried so hard to keep inside were making their way out, in short, quiet bursts. Carl took deep breaths to try to calm himself and hopefully make himself last longer, but the result was only dizzying himself further into a spiral of hormones. But suddenly he just couldn't bring himself to care anymore. His arm slid out from under him and he bit down onto his knuckle when the coil in his belly finally snapped. 

   White hot pleasure shot through him and he tensed as a groan ripped its way out from his throat. He was sure he tasted blood for a moment as he bit down harder in attempts to keep quiet. Spurt after spurt of his cum splattered onto his bare chest and stomach as he rode out his high, his eye squeezed shut and his mind went completely blank. Then all of his muscles relaxed and he gave himself one last firm squeeze in attempts to milk everything he could out of the feeling. A few more drops of cum dripped down his softening shaft, and the utter euphoria left him feeling more than satisfied after ignoring his needs for so long. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this relaxed, and sleep suddenly felt like a possibility again. He lazily pulled up his boxers and he let his eye stay shut, ready and waiting for the long restorative rest he desired. He raised a hand to rub at his chest and stopped when he felt something sticky. He looked down to see ropes of his drying cum plastering to his skin. “Shit..”

[omegalomania]

OMGGG I'm such an urban fantasy fan pls pls continue like I'm loving it

WHY I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. also i learned recently that my inbox is uhhhhh broken in the sense that its Just Not There on my dashboard so if you sent me asks in the past couple months i literally did not see them because the last tumblr dashboard update like, removed the little letter icon. from my dash. and idk how to bring it back lol

ANYWAY this whole au was born from me thinking a very lot about the whole aspect of so much (for) stardust and tourdust's staging where it relied on a) tangibility and b) magic imagery. like the album cover and the staging are all focused on real, actual things that one could conceivably touch (the album cover is an oil painting with glittery clay letters, the stage's props are all actual, interactable props, etc). and whats more, there's the additional "magical" element at work here: the magic 8 ball, pete's magic trick midway thru the show, the whole love from the other side mv, and so on. and because my brain is Like This, pretty soon id spun up a whole storyline out of wholecloth and now im going to make it everyone's problem i guess

ive elected to call it the magic stardust au for perhaps obvious reasons.

the magic stardust au takes place in a world that's a little bit like our own in some ways, and drastically different in others. its our world but shuffled a few degrees to the left, so to speak. for example, the state of iowa still exists - but there's a literal city in it called heaven. there's an alligator prince in this world, and he happens to be literal, as in literally an alligator who also happens to be a prince. magic is a thing here, and its so thoroughly common that no one bats an eye. it's all deeply ingrained into the fabric of reality. magic is twined through each and every soul. it's in the air, in the molecules, in the architecture, in the landscape. ancient, enchanted forests stand shoulder to shoulder with floating cities and underwater palaces and dense metropolises. magic is really just stardust in a sense, and that's just what everything else is too, so is it any wonder that stardust can act upon itself in strange and unique ways? that's all that magic is: stardust.

it always comes back to stardust.

so what happens when magic starts disappearing?

well, people don't notice at first. people don't notice because this thing, this force that's seeping in through little fissures in reality and leaching away all the strangeness in the world - it's clever about its work. it's cunning. it gets people alone and then it drowns them in itself, mercury-slick and flowing, and when it recedes...that's the scary part. not only are people losing their magic, they're also losing the memory of ever having magic in the first place. it's siphoning away the collective memory of magic. it's draining the world of all its charm and vigor and since no one can remember what it's taken once it's gone, it seems like no one can possibly stop it. no one even realizes that it's happening.

i've opted to call this force the annihilation.

(as you can probably tell, i like grabbing onto things from the #lore of the band's mythos rather than the personal stories of any of the members when it comes to devising aus. i love adapting lyrics, concepts, music video elements, and so on into stories, and grounding things into the concept surrounding the particular album or era i'm focusing on on as much as possible.)

anyhow, that's where our guys come in. or rather, that's where their stories all intersect. at the start, none of them have a whole lot of reason to interact with each other a bunch. all four of them live in the city of heaven, iowa, which as mentioned, happens to be ruled by our friend the alligator prince. stardust as an album is very preoccupied with the state of the world, voices a lot of general uncertainty and discomfort with the way things are run, and me being the way i am and having a baseline distrust of monarchy, i think the alligator prince is perhaps pretty honestly not the best at his job. his enforcers - well i'm not sure they'd strictly count as cops in this universe. but for simplicity's sake lets just call them cops and be content that they're probably not the best. corrupt, prone to favoritism, bad at their jobs. etc. this is important because it plays into how all of our guys end up getting to know one another.

hence, i introduce our four main players (featuring concept sketches i started throwing down once i realized this storytelling worm had burrowed into my head):

andy, as i've gotten into a little bit, is a rogue vigilante. he doesn't like the alligator prince. he's not keen on authority in general. he does what he does precisely because he's intent on giving people an alternative to the princes people. he's highly principled and completely unafraid to intervene with the prince's business if it means he's helping the people out. he lives alone on the outskirts of heaven, operates independently, and keeps his identity completely secret. he has a fearsome reputation in heaven but he's very well known. he's a little bit batman in that way - like, the guy's intimidating by default, but if you're in a pinch and you see him, you know he's going to help you out. and he's a hell of a lot better than a cop.

andy's magic, like everyone's in this universe, comes in two flavors: active and passive. his active magic takes the form of white lightning bolts, crackling bright energy that can shock, stun, and incapacitate in all sorts of ways. his passive magic comes from shadow, which is where his trademark hammer and massive, owl-like wings come from; they're actually solidifed shadow, and he can summon and dispel them at a thought.

(i can get into the specifics of how magic types differ if anyone wants to know details, but all you really need to know here is that everyone's got passive magic, which is their baseline, almost unconscious kind of magic, and active magic, which is the kind of magic that you have to work at. the annihilation steals both.)

joe is a freelancer. what this means is that he kind of ends up doing a lot of odd jobs based on whats being asked of him. this comes from a similar place from andy's motives - joe wants to give people an alternative to working with the prince's people. it's a job that requires wearing a lot of different hats, so to speak, so joe is a bit of a jack of all trades in that sense. joe of all trades? he's most frequently hired as a private investigator (again, an alternative to this universe's law enforcement), but he's also been called in as a bodyguard, a, uh "diplomat," and so on. he has a baseline familiarity with andy by virtue of having grown up in heaven and everyone knows about heaven's scary urban legend superhero.

joe's active magic takes the form of glowing blue knives, which he can use for aaaaall sorts of things. you can bet he uses them for every possible mundane use imaginable most of all though lmao. his passive magic is a procynoid form which, in plain language, means he can turn into a raccoon whenever he wants. because that idea from the love from the other side mv is too good to not use. said raccoon form can vary between a very ordinary-sized raccoon fella and a hulking, human-sized one. all comes down to how he feels.

pete is the sole proprietor and operator of pink seashell press, an independent news outlet. once again, this is in the interests of allowing people access to news that doesn't get filtered through the prince's people. it's a lot of hard and thankless work - pete is the only guy working this thing, so he's basically the whole staff. he's doing all the investigative reporting, writing, publishing, and distributing - but he believes in getting news out to people because it's important to get news from someone who isn't in the prince's pocket. he and joe are probably most familiar with each other since their work has a fair degree of overlap and comes from a very similar place. he's probably a big fan of andy lmao

pete's active magic takes the form of glowing green roses, which twine in thorny barbs and soft blooms alike. he can utilize them as both defensive/offensive and aesthetic/mundane purposes, which is nice! his passive magic isn't pictured in the below sketch because i hadn't yet nailed that down as an aspect of his character at the time of drawing, but it entails some partial skeletal physiology. he's got a skeletal arm and mostly skeletal abdomen. doesn't affect how he uses magic, but it grants him some invulnerability to stuff that might target internal organs that he, in part, doesn't strictly speaking have.

patrick is the odd one out here because unlike the others, he didn't grow up in or around heaven. he tends to be a bit of a wanderer, and heaven is just the place he happens to be passing through at the time. he keeps himself going with busking and gigs in small venues like cafés and bookshops as a local musician, and is incredibly cagey about his past. he's also very keen to avoid being noticed by the prince's people or authority in general. he's got the least familiarity with andy, joe, or pete, and is mostly interested in keeping his head down and making a self-sustaining little existence for himself.

this in huge part because of patrick's passive magic, which is a compelling voice. (inspired in part by the field of dreams quote that pete used to tease the upcoming stardust era, not long after the initial chicago tribune fob8 ad dropped: "but until i heard the voice, i'd never done a crazy thing in my whole life.") patrick doesn't actually have to sing for this to take effect. it can come from speaking too forcefully, making an idle suggestion, and a lot of different things. hence why patrick tends to get on people's bad side - he tries incredibly hard to keep this aspect from affecting his life, but once people pick up on this aspect of his voice, things fall apart fast. patrick's spent most of his life moving from place to place because of this. and yeah, he has no idea how much or how little he's influencing anyone at any given time. it's a complete nightmare.

his active magic is a tad more benign. it takes the shape of orange flames, which are fairly malleable and that patrick can reshape into instruments and such with a little effort.

eventually, of course, patrick does indeed get on the wrong side of heaven's authorities because of the same thing that always gets him in his trouble: that darn voice of his. this happens the same time that one of andy's jobs goes horribly wrong and he gets injured and caught. pete crosses the line one too many times, and joe just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. the bottom line is that at this point, all four of the guys end up in heaven's jail at the same time, and that's where their stories all properly intersect.

that's when the annihilation comes for them.

it leaks in through the cracks in the walls and around the grout in the windows and it starts gathering itself up - this horrible, awful force that they can all feel and just looking at it feels wrong. it's an inky swell of star-freckled black void, like a slice of the cosmos staring at them through the bars of their shared cell. it seethes hungrily for them.

the cops run, of course. they leave their charges stuck behind bars, at the mercy of this terrifying thing that - though they don't know it - wants nothing more than to sap their magic away.

the annihilation manages to get its claws into each of them, but only briefly because fortunately, the four of them work together to take matters into their own hands. they manage to bust themselves out of the cell and get the hell out of dodge, but not before the annihilation stains each one of them with its grasping, hungry force, forever altering their appearance. the annihilation leaves a silvery, ashy blotch where it bled onto each of them:

andy gets a massive splash of it on his chest that leaks up onto his throat. joe got splashed on the right side of his body, mostly on his right ear, neck, and adjacent shoulder. pete also got hit on the left, but it mostly consumed his left eye and left leg. patrick got stained on his left hand from the wrist down.

here's a quick and dirty doodle i did to kind of depict this. it didn't come out the way i wanted to and it's not set in stone yet, but it's the general notion.

the fact that these four guys got attacked by the annihilation but crucially managed to escape it before it completely consumed them has permitted each of them an incredibly unique trait: they can understand what it wants. it didn't succeed in draining their magic, so it didn't take their memories of magic either. the annihilation made a tremendous misstep in not isolating these guys when it targeted them, because in working together, they were able to escape it.

so they are in the unique position to realize what's happening, where no one else can.

whatever this thing is, it's old. and it's powerful.

and it's very, very hungry.

and that's the cliffnotes of how these four guys have to band together to save the world before all the magic is drained away for good.

[iknowsescapingjourneys]

(A/N: I have literally never written a fan fiction in my life so this is going to be an adventure. I have an eighteen chapter series planned for this if things go well. I am a white girl that grew up in the middle of nowhere, USA, so if I get any British slang wrong or accidentally mess up something when it comes to his culture, please correct me! I am completely open to concrit.

Other than that, there’s not many triggers in this chapter. Kinda new to Tumblr, I was an embarrassing teenager the last time, pls don’t look at my posts, so I don’t know what needs to be tagged. There’s some fighting, but nothing graphic or gory. Mentions of theft. That’s about it. I am going off of the interview with the directors that say that he is an adult, and there will be smut in later chapters.

Please let me know what you think! I will also do requests for one-shots if anyone has anything in particular they’d like to see.)

Reckless Driving

Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Chapter 1

The crunch of glass beneath the PVC of Doc Martins seems to become an increasingly familiar sound. The stretch and curl of fingers in her gloves causes the sound of metal claws scraping together to echo through the showroom of the commercial jewelry store, barely audible as an alarm blares heavily above her head. The night vision equipped in her helmet makes it easy to see the glass case she’s peering down at, and with a slam of a gloved, clawed fist, the barrier shatters into a hundred sharp, sparkling pieces that fall to the floor and the display below. Claws curl easily around necklaces and rings, dropping them into the cargo pockets of her pants.

She knows how long it takes the police to show up, and she knows that she has three minutes left, if she’s lucky. She’s been here longer than she usually prefers to be, having had a difficult time busting the first display open. The police scanner in her ear chatters away, reports of her misconduct and theft a hot topic. She scoots to her left, repeating her earlier process, and zipping up the pocket when it feels heavy against her thigh.

She turns on her heel to dash to the employee exit in the back, but finds herself colliding with something, a mix of blue and red and black. She stumbles back, eyes widening beneath her masked helmet. Her first instinct is Spiderman, who she is more than well acquainted with, and not in any way that could be deemed positive. Her fist flies through the air without thought, stopped short when it’s grabbed mid trajectory and used to push her back into the broken display case. Her back arches to avoid sharp shrapnel, and she kicks a leg up, outsole colliding with a denim clad knee.

Denim? She pauses her onslaught long enough to get a good look at who exactly has wandered into her crime scene. An eyebrow raises beneath the LEDs of her helmet as she takes him in. This, this was not Spiderman. What looked to be heavy liner circled the mask’s eyes, dripping down below the eye holes. The suit was covered in spikes, both built into it and adorned with bracelets, and belts, and even protruding from the leather jacket that hung loosely on his frame. A guitar was strapped across his back, strings messily sprouting from string trees.

She was pulled from her analysis when a heavy boot made contact with her chest, sending her flying back into the cash register of the jewelry store. She could hear sirens approaching over the sound of the alarm screaming, and she knew flashing lights were only moments away. Her eyes flickered back up to the man encroaching on her space like a predator stalking its prey.

“Man, look at the time,” She spouts, notes of sarcasm and nervousness sprinkled throughout her otherwise surprisingly even tone. “Guess I should probably head out.” She continues, throwing her upper body to the side to avoid another well aimed kick. This time she notices the yellow and blue of ladder laced cords.

“Blue laces, huh? Seems like an odd color for someone working with the cops.” She taunts, managing to pull herself over the counter of the cash register, shoving open the door to the back room with her own boot as she backs herself up.

The man seems to pause for a moment, running his eyes over her figure with a look of confused conflict. “Y’know lace code?” He asks, and she can’t help the laugh that bubbles from her throat.

His accent is thick, and it’s immediately apparent to her that he is not from around here, though New York was known to have a melting pot of people. His voice is deep, but not intimidatingly so, and she finds she actually quite likes it, even from the small sampling she’s heard so far. Her eyes glance down to her own laces, strung up in a similar fashion. One side yellow, the other side purple.

“I might,” She finally answers with a grin, knowing that the duration between the question and her answer was probably long enough that he knows she was taken aback by his accent.

She turns the lock to the back exit with clawed fingers, being as delicate and quiet as possible as she continues to attempt to distract him long enough to get herself out the door.

The heel of her palm presses against the metal lever of the doorknob, her eyes locking on a shelving unit just a leg’s distance away.

“I like the pin,” She mentions, gesturing with her head towards the large A of the anarchy symbol adorned on his jacket. When he glances down in an effort to see which one her eyes have locked on, she kicks her leg out, sending the shelf crashing between them, creating a makeshift barrier.

She knows if he’s anything like the Spiderman she’s used to, he’ll make quick work of throwing it to the side, but it’s a divider long enough for her to slam her hand down and barrel out of the metal door keeping her from her motorcycle.

The pads of her non-gloved fingers press down hard on a button strapped to her thigh and the bike roars to life in a brilliant light show, greens and purples illuminating the dark alley. She throws a leg over the seat, straddling across the leather as her foot slams into the gas, lurching forward as the metal door flies open again to reveal the lanky frame of the man she’d fought with moments prior.

By that point though, she was practically a bat out of hell, motorcycle weaving through alleys so fast that she wasn’t much more than a blur. To be fair, she’s well aware that he could probably catch up to her if he wanted to, using the webs to leap from building to building. Track her down, wrap her up, deliver her to the police.

For some reason, it doesn’t surprise her when he doesn’t.

______________________________

He couldn’t be arsed to chase after you, if he was being honest. First of all, this was a chain, and the markups on the shit they sold was enough to make his anarchist blood boil. Combined with the fact that the cops were out to get her, (and he would rather die than be seen working in collaboration with pigs), it seemed less than important to go swinging through a city he wasn’t entirely familiar with to repossess some cliché engagement rings and some overly gaudy necklaces.

So he knew it wasn’t guilt about letting her get away that rattled around in his head a day later. That conclusion lead him to where he was now: staring down at his boots as they moved him through the night, barely cognizant of what was going on around him as he shifted through thoughts that seemed to pop up faster than he could shoo them away, akin to pop-ups on a shady website.

His tongue ran back and forth over the metal of his lip ring, feeling the shift of piercing to flesh with each passing movement. A stem he often found himself utilizing when he was overwhelmed with his own mind.

He’s only pulled from his thoughts when a familiar sound erupts through the silent air from across the park he’s meandering through. His head snaps in the direction of the noise, pierced brows furrowing slightly. The rumble of a bass guitar, clearly played by someone with experienced fingers, because the tune sounded incredible.

Through the light foliage, definitely planted by a city council in order to make the area look more ‘organic’, he was just capable of making out a feminine frame propped on the black plastic playground border. He couldn’t say he recognized the song, but it definitely had an edge to it. A bite. He liked it.

She didn’t seem to notice him as he made his way over, eyes locked on the way her fingers caressed four thick strings, and the way they reverberated as she pulled away from each one, the timbre of each note filling the air.

“A little late to be putting on a show, innit?”

He can’t choke back the laugh that climbs from his chest when her head swings up to make eye contact with him, her fingers stuttering on strings that release a roar upon her mis-strum. He makes note of the way her eyes widen, akin to a deer stuck in the headlights of a car. Clearly she wasn’t used to people stumbling upon her little solo jams.

“Not much of a show.”

The woman in front of him mumbles, her eyes downcast once again in embarrassment, though he was just capable of making out the dusting of blush that adorned the apples of her cheeks. He settled himself on the plastic divider next to her, brushing off a piece of mulch that threatened to fall to the grass outside of its designated area.

“Not sure about that, princess. Can’t say I wasn’t enjoying it.”

He watches her blink a few times, face twisting in confusion a little as she glances up at him. He takes the chance to let his eyes wander the details of her complexion: the little laugh lines on the corners of her lips and nose, the way her eyes shimmer in the dim light of the lamp post, the gloss applied to her lips.

“Princess?”

She asks, and he realizes that she thinks he’s some prat trying to harass her in the middle of the night. He gives an apologetic smile, his lip ring reflecting the lighting and enunciating the gesture.

“Seems like I’m about to make a total cock-up of this whole situation.”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his hand against his forehead, warm flesh brushing cold metal bumps of thick metal captive beads.

“Promise I’m not tryna chat you up. It’s just a ‘abit.”

He watches her frame deflate from the bristled posture it held moments prior, and he relaxes slightly as well, leaning back as palms dig into rough wood shavings. His eyes wander her before he gets to her shirt and the back of his large, ringed hand hits her shoulder.

“You like R&B?”

He asks, fingers gripping on the hem of the black material and pulling it slightly to flatten the material so he can get a better look at it. Her lips twitch in discomfort for a moment, an action he doesn’t miss, and he pulls his hands away, not embarrassed but feeling a little bad for what definitely seemed like harassing this girl now.

“Erykah Badu is the background track to just about every trip I’ve been on.”

She says softly after an extended silence, and the little grin that climbs the corner of her lips is not lost on him. Maybe she wasn’t completely under the impression he’d lost the plot. He pulls his phone from his pocket, glancing at the time.

Then he glances at it again, eyes widening. How had he managed to fuck around until two in the morning? If people weren’t pissed because they were looking for him, they’d be pissed the next morning when he couldn’t drag his arse out of bed.

He was honestly a little disheartened by the fact that he’d managed to absolutely flounder the entire conversation, just to pick himself up right as he had to leave.

“Really should get going. I’m absolutely gutted I couldn’t ‘ear you play more of that bass.”

He says with a grin, long legs pulling to a stand as he tried to remember what direction he’d come from and how to get back. His spidey-senses tingle right before his hand wraps around his wrist, and he yanks it away at the last second out of instinct. She seems dissuaded by the rejection, and he does his best to soothe the burn with a grin.

“Sorry, doll. Just not used to being touched.”

He apologizes, raising horizontally pierced brows as an invitation for her to speak her mind. It’s the least he could do for harassing her and then fucking off right as they started to actually have a conversation.

“Do you think I could have your number?”

He’s no stranger to being hit on. He’s no stranger to being the one to hit on others, either. And he can’t deny that she’s a very beautiful woman. Still, he knows better. This isn’t his universe, and he’s not here to make friends, and especially not here to shag around whatever version of New York this was.

“I’m flattered, really. Can’t say I think that’s the brightest idea though. I could be mad, y’know?”

The woman’s shoulders drop slightly at being pied off, and he reaches out to set a hand on the pewter gray of the shoulder of her shirt.

“Don’t take it personal though, princess. I’ve just got a lot on my shoulders at the moment.”

He reassures, letting his hand drop back down to his side and turning on his heel before he stared at her too long and changed his mind. The last thing he needed to do was find himself attached to a civilian, especially one that he’d have to dimension hop for. The cons far outweighed the pros.

Hobie Brown was a rebel, but he wasn’t daft.

[invece-sto-sdraiato]

New introduction post for Tumblr <3 (I’ll try to not make it long. SIKE!)

Welcome to this disaster central :3

hiii people, I’m Aditi! (nickname: Addie) 18 year old Indian (tamil) girlie. Introvert and bookworm. Professional weirdo in her cringecore era. Will overanalyse anything and everything. I love making lists. Straight (eww) but not immune to pretty women. Forget I said that. This is my main account (I am losing track of how many fandoms I am in so pls bear with me)

Have been a eurovision fan since 2020. My brother’s more into jesc. Obsessed with melfest (especially older editions), mgp and sanremo mostly. Anything that’s even remotely Italian/Slovenian/French fascinates me. Major Italian indie fan. And then there’s joker out. They’re the reason I formed this account ❤️ can never have enough of them, can you? I’m also an absolute sucker for crime thrillers.

Other Artists 🎶: Alexander Rybak, Benjamin Ingrosso, Fulminacci, Ditonellapiaga, PTN, Rovere, Ghemon, Tananai, Fabio Rovazzi, Santi Francesi, Alvan, Itzy, Lindsey Stirling and I could go on but I won’t, for everyone’s sake.

Series/Shows 📺: NCIS, Supernatural, House MD, Sherlock BBC, The Big Bang theory, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, all Glitch Prod. shows (TADC, MD, MR and SP), Lackadaisy, Panhandle and others which I probably don’t remember much of. Also indie animation in general.

My hellaverse side account : @nightowlstardust

A slight warning that I do vent quite a lot so you might see that.

Anyways, feel free to chat with me anytime (my chronically online ass ain’t going nowhere) i promise I’m friendly, even if i might not seem like that 😊

bye lol hope reading this didn’t give you a headache (also I accept no blame for any or cursed posts you might see, it’s not my fault my humour’s broken 😆)

[thawthebeez]

on today's episode of What the Hell is Tumblr Use Thawthebeez Going Crazy Insane About?

PROMISES IN HAIKYUU

specifically this one:

you know the one. the good ol' "I don't care how shitty the toss is, if it's sent my way, I'll hit it" said by none other than Hinata "I keep my promises" Shouyou.

now, in the midst of my monthly season 4 rewatch, i was reminded of the super tense points at the end of the Inarizaki vs. Karasuno match, including the one where Hinata uses his foot to score a point, which isn't the first time he's done it, but i'll be using it as my prime example anyway because i feel like the mood is less "omg he used his foot to score how crazy is that" and rather more of a "HEY GUYS LOOK AT THE CRAZY INSANE BOND BETWEEN THESE TWO CHARACTERS"

Let us begin.

Alrighty so we've got ourselves a pretty sticky situation here. The scores are tied 25-all, and letting Inarizaki get the point would just put the pressure back on Karasuno so it's best to avoid that. They're all getting pretty tired, it's taking more energy to get to places, reactions are delayed, all that.

So, Kageyama goes to set the ball and...

It kinda flops. Unfortunate, yes.

and To Be Fair, if this was ANY OTHER GUY this would have been a point lost for Karasuno. Easy. Literally no questioning that. If this was a toss to Tsukishima or Tanaka or Asahi or LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE, that ball would have dropped.

but it doesn't.

Because it's Hinata, that ball stays in play. Hinata picks it up anyway because this is a toss for HIM. Not getting it up would be breaking a promise.

now, a promise like this isn't too insane, but the timing of which it's made IS. that promise is made just after Tsukishima airs out all of Kageyama's dirty laundry from his middle school days, talking about the whole "no one was there" thing (which leads into the "no one was there" / "i'm here" interaction that literally make me explode every single time without fail).

to paraphrase in a Very Normal way: "my tosses were too fast and demanded too much and so the ball just dropped and that was the most traumatic thing to ever happen in my life second to my grandpa dying" followed by "okay Cool. whatever. I literally do not care actually (soz abt ur grandpa tho </3). you could set the ball to the other side of the school and as long as it was addressed to me i'll get it. i do not care. just toss to me pls i beg" and that's that. boom. promise made. will never be broken. ever.

And then there is, of course, the other promise that is "One day I'll win and stay on the court the longest" that gets established in the first episode and is KEPT and just. ugh. i love how this show establishes promises and no matter how crazy they may seem they're always kept.

I'm also just really normal about the way kghn exist and function in General. i swear everything they do is so insane to me THEY ARE INSANE. like the way their relationship is built on a foundation of trust that never even needed to be there in the first place, and the way that they've kept age old promises (like the one i mentioned in the previous paragraph and the fact that it took TEN YEARS for Hinata to finally make up on it), and the way they keep count of all their little competitions, and the way Hinata has always accepted Kageyama for who he is, flaws and all, and the way that Kageyama made a toss for Hinata that would let him fly as high as he wanted to (whenever i get to that part where they mention that most tosses are "setter sets and spiker meets that height" but point out that Hinata and Kageyama's attacks are always "spiker jumps and setter tosses to meet that height" I GO ABSOLUTELY WILD EVERY SINGLE TIME) OUGH i am so so so normal.

[fcllederage-moved]

get to know the author!

name : alix

pronouns : she/they

preference of communication : definitely Discord. Tumblr ims are so broken I need to refresh my page every time I receive a dm so I'm really not counting on them. However, my Discord is only for my mains, for the moment. Ofc, me not relying on Tumblr ims doesn't mean I won't reply.

most active muse : definitely Hyacinthe. She lives rent free in my head ♥ For those who don't know I have a few other muses (Thirteen from Doctor Who, Reaper from Overwatch, Revenant from Apex Legends, Carmina Mora from Dead By Daylight and an SCP original character) but they don't have a lot of plots going on - some even don't - so I can't really feel the motivation to write them for now. I would love to tho.

experience / how many years : got my ass on Tumblr in 2013, when I got in college haha so it's been ten years. It may not be as much as some people on here but I've seen a lot, especially a lot of the bad side and not a lot of the good side of the rp community, to be honest. But writing is my let out so I guess I'm here lol. On top of it all, now I'm blessed with really great people to plot and talk with (big ass shoutout to Ash, Tasha, Coatl and Po)!

best experience : like I said above, being able to meet really great people!

rp pet peeves : definitely people who follow first and never interact. Not to be mean (but I'm French and we're known for being straight-forward), but what the f- are you doing here? I'm an rp blog, nothing else. Plus it makes me feel like I'm being stalked, sometimes for all the wrong reasons. And in general, people who don't respect the basic rp etiquette are massive pet peeves/red flags.

fluff, angst, or smut : pls all of it. I don't have a preference in that regards, maybe out of the three, my least favorite is fluff but when I say that, I mean the fluff without plotting. If we plotted a fluff thread, I'm all for it tbh.

plots or memes : PLOTS. I do love memes as ice breakers but if we're gonna do something on the long run, I absolutely need to plot. Like I keep saying, I need to feel that my partners are just as invested as I am.

long or short replies : ... look 😂 I try writing short threads from time to time but the second I get invested in it, I tend to go overboard and write a lot. Moreover, Cin feels things a thousand times more than most people so I'm gonna have a lot to write lmao

time to write : I don't necessarily have a preferred time. I tend to write better in the morning but I'd rather write when the inspiration and motivation comes, no matter the time. Plus it's a hobby, I don't have a schedule for that lol

are you like your muses : yeah, we do have a few points in common. The way we hide our insecurities in our passion, our art, our over-confidence, how lonely we sometimes feel even in the middle of a crowd, the need to be absolutely perfect. We also both have the same sense of humour, crude humour, dad jokes. That's our shit✌️😎

tagged by: the booest of boos @wynterlanding 💖

tagging: @andynked, @azraelblack, @cxldblxxded, @freak1ish, @godstrayed, @griim, @n-galmurrr, @soulsuckrrs, @therelentless + the rest of the dash ♥

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Hello dear rhythm!! I’m glad that your rest was fruitful 💜 i do hope u get some more “me time” soon. I think i kinda have a lot to say but so little brain cells left so lemme just ramble 🥹 (sorry in advance cuz this is definitely not proofread)

First off, minotaur changbin 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i’m mush with how he tries his best to communicate with little human even if his words are a bit broken 😭 gosh he’s something else indeed. Would love to learn more about him and their relationship!!

in connection to another anon, i agree that you’re like, one of the kindest writers here 🥹💜 for real, i still always feel giddy and kicking my feet whenever you interact with us even if we’re anonymous. I totally feel that you’re so genuine too, so ilysm 🥹

Random thoughts have brought me back to one older anon ask that i sent. i feel like i haven’t revealed it to you. It was about how you made me realize that i might actually be into monster fuckery HAHAHSHAHDHSH i’m coming clean now because i just wanna tell you that it’s definitely because of how you write (and other users that i follow!!). I think a recent anon said something about finding it rare to have stories with werewolves or vampires that are more on exploring how “human” they are. I would like to tell u that u are so awesome for writing that kind of stories :)) [again i am so sorry my brain is mush rn but i just wanted to tell u everything!!!! 😭]

in more personal news, i am at that time of uni where i am undergoing on the job training 🥲 and although i find the topics that i study really interesting, i am an extremely introverted person in an extroverted career choice 🥹 AKSBXJSBBDHDH my social battery is currently drained and i am now curled up in bed and ranting to u 😂

Am currently catching up on tumblr stuff like your recent posts so here i am!! Sending big hugs to u as always!! Head pats for Raven :)) kinda miss seeing the void, may i pls ask for a pic?

alsooo have u watched the baseball skz code?? WHAT IF wr!seungmin takes his s/o to teach them how to play 🥹 or that hybrid seungmin that u wrote about 👀 both breeds would definitely catch the ball 😂

~🍓

ahh, thank you, dear berry💜 i hope i get more "me time" soon 😭 i need it desperately.

glad you liked minotaur!changbin 🥺 he's the gentlest giant.... there were some things i wanted to explore with them both, but idk i didn't feel like putting them in this fic. maybe one day i'll write a bit more for them💜 i may or may not be...... considering writing a story about that young man in the labyrinth 👀 but... we'll see

you're too kind💜 i genuinely like interacting with y'all~ so i'm happy you all find some entertainment in it, too hahah

exploring the human-like nature of monsters is my passion atp sdfhsujhfsdik it's so much fun, which is why i keep doing it (or try to, at least). i find pride in the fact that i've helped bring many of you to this side 👀👀👀

i haven't watched the baseball skz code!! i want to but i haven't found the time. don't worry, though.... baseball player wr!seungmin has been living in my mind for a while now👀 we'll see if he makes an appearence in the actual story.

hope it goes well with uni!! i'm sure you'll do great. here's a Raven pic to hopefully ease your soul:

[evanpetersbuttocks]

for me actually the only real real problem is that evan didn’t even mention the victims in his speech

his «  i hope something good come out of this » wasn’t enough.

i know that he’s not for sure a militant like he’s not that celebrity who will use his voice and makes clear positions on societal subjects/ issues like misogyny, racism, politic, abortion… ( i don’t know if i’m explaining myself right bc i’m french and my english is so poor since i entered university 😭😭 )

and that not like other actors, he wouldn’t have done a powerful speech talking about the inequality and i don’t know why he decides to enter this project even though it was so touchy and difficult, he could have said that he wanted to perform this role to put in image how much the police was and actually IS deficient bc of racism in Usa. this would have been amazing i think. not just amazing bc it was socially acceptable to say that and to be perceive as the cool white activist boy but it would have give a meaning behind his participation to the serie instead of just having « like the script » or whatever he said to justify his participation.

i saw someone on tumblr who was defending evan and who was saying that basically making this serie and the fact that the victim family didn’t respond like now they should shut up …

i just have to say something just put yourself in their shoes not in their shoes but in their forever broken heart and life…

being murder by a psychopath isn’t the same as being taken by disease or an accident

i don’t know where is humanity in some of this evan fandom, where are the emotions.

this is what was lacking in ev speech some emotions about the serie and the victim who were real people

i know that his speech was meant to be professional and actually centered about cinema and you know the producing instead of trying to be an activist speech. but i understand why tony’s mom was angry about him not saying anything about all the victims 🤡 ryan murphy and all of them werent really shy while filming dahmer and using all the real names of the victims.

was that too much maybe to have included all those names in his speech ? or would have been so hard to reverse all his money to the family’s ? hes already a millionaire… you wanted to do it for the thrill and the passion of acting then okay but left the money ( and you all don’t come after me telling me why would give the family money would change anything ) to those whose murders are allowing you to gain money

why him and not the others ? all the others actually but the ryan murphy since the beginning you can see he didn’t care

it’s « his money » yes maybe but if those murders wouldn’t exist this money won’t be his,

it’s not on him only hum…. the amount of money received by netflix and his production lol but i think by playing the « main character » of this serie he should have took the first step and made this decision as a genuine decision.

like hello guys i’m giving all of my pay to the victim family, it may but bring back your lost ones but it’s not my money. i was just in this serie to help put in image all this deep racism problem linked to policy and also bc i knew this role will be really hard to perform but i don’t want and need this money.

it may cost you money but you know at least you’re not perceived as a white privileged actor who is still enjoying selfishly and gaining money on racism murders on the black/minor community.

i’m just questioning all of it hum 🤨

it’s just my opinion as a black woman

pls don’t attack me lol

i still love evan and i was soooo happy for him for his victory

thanks for such a big text and for taking the time to write this, dw, i understood you perfectly. and of course, i’ll not attack, because it is written respectfully. my appeal was rather to those who, without arguing their position, immediately and categorically humiliated evan, without considering both sides in their text. i agree with you in some way, if you search somewhere below on my account, i wrote my complaint about the series itself and it seemed incorrect to me to come to the victims’ house, ask their hard stories and just leave. i agree that this part should have been given more attention, and to be honest, the thought “he didn’t say anything about the victims and their families” flashed through my head at the end, it’s true. i was rather infuriated by the fact of the flow of uncontrolled shit that poured out on him, which caused a response in me. it’s just how people get their thoughts across. undoubtedly, forgetting about families and victims is unacceptable. i would say that evan himself is awkward at speeches, not very talkative, and very nervous, but as a ukrainian citizen (which i am) who himself faces death almost every day, this would be a strange excuse - he needed to say more and try to focus on respect and emphasize it. it just upsets me how people throw themselves with fire without controlling their emotions. of course, all people are different, i understand this very well, but evan seems far from the worst person to be so humiliated and even go so far as to cancel him, as i saw it. and it hurts to see such aggressive comments while much tougher people get more understandings