#only this time it's voluntary rather than forced on him

[ariquar]

one day I'll write the actual fic I have in mind about how Ari completely ruins Ulfric's life with one simple action (handing him the Thalmor dossier on himself while Elenwen, across the table, threatens Ari with ratting him out to his father) and the aftermath (Ulfric ultimately stepping down as Jarl while he readjusts his entire worldview, attempts to start a normal, civilian life, and grapples with the fact that he'd unintentionally been doing the dirty work for the people he thought he was fighting against) but for now i will sit with these brainworms I have of Ari just seeing this miserable nord man's life crumble and knowing that ruining his life was the best thing to happen in this situation

[copilot-crashout]

hii!! >w< may i request anti-tulpar au mouthwashing characters x gender neutral reader hcs? (both sfw and/or nsfw hcs? honestly i don’t mind if you leave out the nsfw part, sfw hcs are just fine! ^^) i haven’t seen a lot of anti-tulpar content and i love the au smmmm! your work is also so good omgg >w<

Pairing: Anti!Tulpar crew x gn!reader

Content Warning: There are NSFW HCs here! It's my first time writing anything NSFW. Please keep that in mind!! ( -᷄ _ -᷅ ; ) Also, there are mentions of stalking Jimmy + blood kink for him. Misogynistic ideology on Curly's part.

[A/N]: I love anti!Tulpar so much... They're so interesting to me!! ˶ ˊ ᵕ ˋ ˶ Since both of these asks were similar, I decided to combine them... If @livvizible wants Anti!Curly separately, please ask me again!! ᕦ(˵•̀ᴥ•́˵)ᕤ

In other news, if people want to talk to me more personally, I'd be happy to make another blog/give my other socials. Just let me know~!

[SFW] CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> He runs a tight ship, nothing gets past his eyes. Whatever orders he barks out, he expects to be followed. His ship is one set by law and order, and yet you seem to be the only exception. You're the only one he could consider his equal, after all.

-> This guy thrives off PDA. He'd be happy to make out with you in front of the rest of the crew, so long as they know who you belong to. He always keeps a hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him when he's focused on his work and when he wants to distract you. His pride still hits you, but rather than being worked like a dog, he drags you out of it, only to chuckle at how easy it was to distract you.

-> Speaking of work, he'd be happy to let you into the cockpit, so long as you finished your assigned tasks for the day. While he wouldn't normally be one for too much affection while piloting the ship, he'd be happy to let you sit in his lap while he worked. He rests his head on your shoulder as he stares at the screen before him, keeping an eye on where they are heading.

-> Please make sure he doesn't work himself to the bone. If you bring him some snacks or a drink and keep him company, he'll thrive off it more than he can say. He still yearns for aspects of domestic life, the peacefulness foreign to him, but a welcome unknown, nonetheless.

-> Loves to give gifts. This man has expensive taste, and he's sure to show that to you with the gifts he gets you. You're a reflection of him. If he wants to maintain his image, you need to be in top shape, too. That's the excuse he gives, at least, when instead of a brand new set of clothes, he settles for giving you a massage, his tough hands working the knots in your back, eyes drilling into you with a focused glare.

[NSFW] CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> He's a certified freak. You've probably had sex in most of the rooms. His dick throbs at the idea of someone catching you two while you fuck, as if it's the equivalent of marking you as his. Though most rounds are usually quickies, he doesn't have time for long, drawn-out nights. That, and it makes him feel too vulnerable to have soft, vanilla sex.

-> The Captain is known to smoke cigars. He's more than happy to extinguish them on your body. During work hours, it's a press onto the back of your hand, the heat burning the skin to leave a mark that would heal within a few days. During sex, he grins as he watches your body flinch at the sudden heat pressed onto your back, leaving a mark only he can see.

-> He's not one to ever bottom. His belief in masculinity makes him near-inflexible in the bedroom. Giving up control in any sense of the word is too effeminate for him even worse when it's voluntary. He's a man; He shouldn't be the one whimpering or begging for mercy. Instead, he fucks you raw. His favourite position is doggy style (trust). He's pulling your hair; forcing you into a sloppy kiss as he fucks you senseless.

-> Mirror sex with him is so attractive. He wants you to see the power he lords over you, how dishevelled you look in front of your superior. He can't help but admire how captivating you are, back arched and whining for more, a steady thrum of power coursing through his veins. He knows he's the only one to make you feel that good, and he certainly won't stop.

[SFW] JANITOR JIMMY:

-> He's surprised you even wanted to date someone like him. Jimmy can only see himself as the dirt beneath your shoe. He barely deserves to be seen, especially by you, but he's ecstatic when you give him the time of day. Jimmy's better described as your loyal worshipper rather than a lover.

-> Jimmy finds himself too excited at the prospect of standing next to you. He's giddy, grinning like a schoolgirl for having the luxury of breathing the same air as you. His devotion to you is unwavering.

-> He faces relentless bullying from the other crew members becoming the designated doormat of the ship. He's embarrassed about it. Not because of his treatment. No, no. His fears are about how they reflect on you, his sweet darling. Is he unsightly to you? He isn't a strong man, he'd understand if you treated him the same too. He deserved it.

-> You're too good for the ship. You shouldn't be working a blue-collar, dead-end job like this. How about you leave it all to him. You won't even have to lift a single pretty finger. Just acknowledge him, and he'll be yours forever. He'd work himself to the bone so long as you smiled at him.

-> If you asked for anything, he would do his best to fulfil it! Need a drink? He could prepare coffee better than that simple vending machine. He knows your taste. Tired? He'll be your loyal assistant, trailing you more like a lost puppy as he asks you to bark orders at him!

-> Jimmy uses his role to his advantage. He's just the janitor, so he needs to be in your room to clean in, silly! He'll leave small gifts in places only you or he would ever see. A small necklace in your cupboard drawer, notes professing their adoration on your mirror. He wants you to know how much you mean to him! If you notice a pencil missing here or a glove missing there, he can only give you a small pout and a promise to look out for it while he's cleaning.

-> He's red-faced and stuttering whenever you make any contact with him, eyes focused on anything but you. Jimmy could just faint then and there when you kissed his cheek for the first time. He barely initiated any contact at the beginning of your relationship, still believing it couldn't be true. Jimmy was sure it was just a dare from Anya. Eventually, he warms up to it, happy to hold you for as long as you'd like, the caveat being it would be in private rather than anything the others could see.

-> He memorises your schedule. That's not creepy, is it? If you see him more often while working, he gives you a bright grin, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he lets you get on with your work, lest you want Captain Curly to yell you into tears. Your relationship is quiet but finds itself weaved into the mundanity of the ship. Its presence is a lingering feeling of warmth rather than any outstanding proclamation of true love.

[NSFW] JANITOR JIMMY:

-> Worship, worship, worship. It goes both ways, honestly. He leaves small kisses across your body, misty-eyed as he thanks you, thanks whatever God there is that you somehow find worth in him. Even if you were using him, it would be okay. You see him. If you praised him, he'd break into tears, soft sobs as your gentle hands trail over his scar-littered body (some from little cuts on the job, others from "accidents" he experienced in his life). He's never felt so happy. It's as close to heaven as he'll ever get to.

-> He's a sucker for any position where he can see your face. He needs reassurance from you to see you enjoying your time together. It's soft and romantic, something he didn't think he'd ever be able to experience.

-> He's not loud in bed by any means (at least when he tops). The most you hear are soft whines while he ruts into you hard or a breathy moan when he cums. If he bottoms, it's a whole different story. He feels totally ashamed, but it's mixed in with such pleasure that his whole self is thrown off. He lets out loud moans, trying to silence himself with his own hand. If you pull his hand away, he squeezes his eyes shut, afraid to see your reaction when he's begging for more.

-> You are his top priority. Anything you want, he'll give you. Nothing is off the table for him, so long as it's what you want. Feel free to get as freaky as you want with him, he'll allow it (and at some point finds himself enjoying it, too).

-> As soft as he is, I think Jimmy has a pretty strong sadistic streak. Definitely has a blood kink, honestly. There's something utterly depraved, hauntingly infatuating in giving him the power to wound yourself and him, pressing them together to stare as the blood spills over, intertwining the very essence of yourselves. Unsanitary and could probably cause infections? Yeah. Is it hot? Absolutely.

-> Following this train of thought, he has it in him to snap and go rough. Once in a blue moon, when tensions are too high and you've been ignoring him for a moment too long, he'll grab your wrist harshly and pull you into an abandoned room, whispering how much he hates it when you ignore him. He'll find ways for you to keep your eyes on him, even if it means a rough fuck where anyone can walk in.

[SFW] ACTUARY DAISUKE:

-> He's very cat-like. Whenever he's free from work, he'll go out of his way to find you, only to start complaining at how much of a task it was to find you. Yet, he still stays. Watching as you work, waiting until you're finished so all your attention can be devoted to him.

-> You're co-workers first, and lovers second. He worked hard to get his job here and would rather be caught dead than be seen as 'unprofessional.' Daisuke initiating any kind of affection is left strictly behind closed doors. The same doesn't have to apply to you.

-> If you surprise him with any kind of affection in public, he'll grumble, yet won't push you off. His excuse? You'd only get more clingy if he denies you attention now. Just don't mention how he relaxed at your touch, face softening a fraction by your company or else he'll push you off and storm off to the opposite side of the ship.

-> Another character for gifts. An actuary gets paid well, and he's got the things he needs. Might as well spend it on you. He'd never mention the way his heart skips when he sees your face light up at his surprise gift - no matter how expensive it was.

-> He's still one to play games, though! He knows all the cheat codes and he's a total completionist - a perfectionist in every sense of the word. Daisuke would be more than happy to let you play but would be even more ecstatic if you watched him play in the privacy of his room.

[NSFW] ACTUARY DAISUKE:

-> He bottoms, most if not all the time. He's just so stressed. He works so hard. What's a better way to unwind than spending time with his beloved?

-> He lets out breathy moans whenever you suck him off. Daisuke isn't one for roughness, as much as he tries to say otherwise. He's not the type to be extremely loud. The most you hear is a quiet "fuck..." from him, or a small whine.

-> Fan of mutual masturbation. He wants to know everything about you. That, and he enjoys watching your eyes flicker from his face down to his hand stroking his own cock. If Daisuke is in a good mood, he might make small comments, most being rhetorical questions about how you ever felt good without him.

-> There are so few headcanons for him NSFW-wise as I don't think he has much of a libido, honestly. It's unlike Tulpar!Daisuke where it's through the roof. He's happy to accommodate your needs, otherwise it's not something he thinks about.

[SFW] MECHANIC ANYA:

-> She's prideful, and she's not afraid to show it. By extension, you should be just as confident. Anya is your biggest hype girl. No matter what you do on the ship, she's there with a wide grin, ruffling your hair with a compliment.

-> As the mechanic, she's strong. You'll find yourself off the ground at random points of the day, Anya throwing you over her shoulder and sauntering off to god knows where. She'll never ask for your attention, only pulling stunts like these because she deserves it, obviously.

-> She wants you to praise her, too. Anya shows off around you, talking to you about a difficult task she was able to solve, or how even the Captain had to call her over to sort something out in the cockpit. She preens whenever she hears you comment on a job well done, brushing it off with a "Well, it was simple."

-> The girl is your biggest defender. If Daisuke gets too snappy with you, or the Captain is ripping you a new one, Anya will intervene with no remorse. She's happy to send them an irritated glare, pushing you behind her as she complains about how they even have the time to complain in the first place.

-> Playful ribbing with her is a must. You won't have a day with Anya where she doesn't poke fun at you (lovingly). If you tease back, she makes it a competition. Curly's exasperated when he pulls you two out of the third fake fight of the week.

[NSFW] MECHANIC ANYA:

-> Her sole focus is on you. She knows she's great in bed and she'll prove it.

-> A fan of anything oral, especially as foreplay. Her grin only widens when you're on your third orgasm of the night, begging her to slow down when she hasn't even gotten to the main show yet. If you gave her oral, she's clinging to your hair, her other hand clutching the bedsheet with a knuckle-white grip.

-> She's a huge fan of contact. Her hands are trailing any part of you that's not covered, poking and petting to see your reaction. She gets a massive kick out of it if you're especially ticklish. Even during sex, she'll find a way to make you giggle.

-> Another one for exhibitionism, except worse. She's happy to use any toy on you, so long as she holds onto the remote. Anya stands in the kitchen, eyes focused on you trying to keep your composure.

-> On particularly stressful days, she'll let you top and God's is she loud. She can only flush red when you slap your own hand over her mouth, desperately whining and bucking her hips into whatever touch you give her, her usual pride shattered.

[SFW] CHEF SWANSEA:

-> The kindest man on the ship, by far. You're everything he could've dreamed of. Daisuke rolls his eyes whenever he sees you together, grumbling about the jobs you were both forgetting about.

-> He's an old soul, and by extension has more traditional ideas of romance. His favourite thing to do is to wake you up with breakfast in bed, watching you get accustomed to being back in the land of the living, setting a tray of food in front of you.

-> The domestic life is pure bliss for him. It's hard on a ship with such extreme characters, but the kitchen becomes a second home to both of you. The others don't seem to care much for it – bar Jimmy who has to clean it every so often – meaning you two can spend quiet time together.

-> He'll teach you his recipes! He's happily waltzing around the kitchen, keeping an eye on you (and the food) as he tells you the common mistakes people make when cooking.

-> Shockingly good at reading any mood. You won't even have to tell him you're feeling sad, as he's already lending you a hand wherever you need it.

[NSFW] CHEF SWANSEA:

-> Another lover boy. This time, it's even more romantic.

-> Sucker for plain, vanilla sex. I don't think he could do many rounds at once, either. He's not in his prime anymore (and feels quite bad about it). He loves you though, and tries his best to meet your needs. Expect lots of foreplay. Your pleasure comes before his own, time and time again.

-> Swansea is more than happy to give you oral for hours. He still wants you to feel satisfied, even with his less-than-stellar stamina. You're the best thing he's tasted, perhaps better than his cooking!

-> With that, I think he'd be a fan of overstimulating you. He's happy to know you feel good, and wants you to feel your best! Swansea is more than delighted to make you cum over and over again, even before having penetrative sex.

-> He's good with his hands, too. This old man was able to rack up a lot of experience, you know.

-> If you're someone with a high sex drive, he'll do his best to meet your needs. Don't mind the flush on his cheeks, he's just not used to it. Same with people who are into more intense kinks - he's happy to please but you might have to guide him.

-> However, harming you is a no-go for him. Degradation is something he's hesitant about and outright violent kinks are ones he wouldn't go so far in exploring.

[hellspawn-enjoyer]

One parallel between Karlach and Astarion that I think isn’t explored enough is the fact that they both have a moral dilemma around consuming souls.

Which I understand the whole Soul coin thing isn’t all that explored in the game unfortunately, but the little implications of what’s there has some good potential. The most striking similarity between Karlach and Astarion is that both are victims of a system designed to consume them. Karlach through her infernal modifications and Astarion through vampiric servitude. They both seek to break free and in doing so, they must grapple with the moral weight of consuming others as a means to their end.

While both decisions involve feeding off the essence of others, Karlach's situation is framed as reluctant survival, whereas Astarion’s choice is one of ambition, vengeance, and the temptation of absolute power. Yet they both have the potential to lose themselves if they go down this path.

I mostly wanted to focus on Karlach’s use of Soul Coins and how that comes with a profound ethical weight:

She understands what it means to be trapped and used against one's will. As someone who was forced into servitude under Zariel, the idea of burning up another soul, even if it belongs to a damned individual, feels like repeating the cycle of oppression she fought to escape.

Each Soul Coin contains a remnant of a person. Though they are already condemned to Avernus, using their essence for power means she is directly exploiting what remains of them, treating them as fuel rather than beings who once had lives of their own.

She wants to be free, not stronger at any cost. Unlike Astarion, whose dilemma tempts him with godlike power, Karlach’s concern is merely survival. Using Soul Coins might give her a boost in strength and over time give her new abilities, but does it make her complicit in the same predatory system that enslaved her?

Karlach’s use of Soul Coins is desperate, not ambitious. She does not seek power; she only seeks to live. If she consumes, it is apathetically out of necessity, not desire.

Astarion’s ascension is entirely voluntary. He has an alternative: walking away and choosing to be something more than a monster. His temptation is not just survival, but the desire to be untouchable.

That's all my brain came up with for now but trust me the layers are layering you guys…

[alicerosejensen]

No time to die

Warning: Death of the reader; injuries; mention of blood; implied parting with Leon; Old leon; Fem!reader

Synopsis: he should have decided on his feelings before telling you about love. He should be taking care of you instead of running after Ada again, but now he will have enough time for this activity.

A/N: Sometimes I write about Leon's slippery ass. Well, I really had disturbing thoughts again.

If you were given a choice on whose hands to spend the last minutes of your life, you would never have chosen the hands of Leon S Kennedy.

In fact, you would rather lie in a pool of your own blood, moving away from him as far as possible, leaving dark scarlet streaks behind you, than let him help you. After all, despite all his love for this man, he caused you a very strong pain. Even stronger than what you feel now, when you try to get to your feet leaning on torn palms, spitting out a thick foam of blood.

Well, ordinary civilians can hardly resist a giant bioweapon that has crushed a bunch of people like bugs up to this point, but if Ada Wong was only slightly knocked down by a blow, which caused her to lose consciousness for a while, then you were thrown with such force that the organs inside seem to have turned into porridge.

But at that moment you didn't care anymore. The pain pierced every cell of your body and the only desire in your head was just to hide from it somewhere. Leon and his endless love for Ada didn't care anymore, but this pain will always remain in your heart. After all, he came to her aid and not to you.

You started coughing up blood. From every breath it became increasingly unbearable to breathe, and then you lost that fragile balance that you found for a couple of short seconds, collapsing on shards of glass that crumbled under your weight. Everything swam before your eyes. You didn't have the strength to curse anyone because all you wanted was not hugs and a declaration of love, but for this painful hell to end faster! A grunt escaped from your throat when someone tried to turn your body over and provide first aid, but only blood splattered out of your mouth.

"God," Leon's partner looked at you with big frightened eyes, trying to think of something, but stopped when you gathered the remnants of your strength and grabbed her hand, looking at the gun in her holster.

The last mercy for the dying.

"Please..." your hoarse, very quiet whisper begged Helena to "finish it"

Tears flowed from red eyes mixing with the blood that was on your face. From this pain, the vessels in your eyes burst and it seems that the only way out was a kind of voluntary euthanasia by a bullet in the head and not waiting for your body to stop fighting death before the damaged organs stop working themselves.

And then Helena's loud voice was heard calling Leon to finally break away from his beloved and pay attention to the dying you. If your condition were better, you would spit this very blood in his face. However, he really ran up to you after a couple of seconds, laying you on his lap, trying to do everything carefully so as not to cause additional pain. You didn't really want to spit, but you accidentally soiled his face when he stroked your hair.

Crimson thin rivulets slowly poured out of your nose and you closed your eyes a little at a new outbreak of suffocating pain that filled your whole body reflexively clinging to Leon's hand. His skin showed signs of broken nails, but he didn't seem to mind. It was unbearable for you to take even a small breath; even one attempt was accompanied by a bloody, foamy, painful cough at the edge of your mouth. It was like Hell.

Leon seemed to be looking for something that could help you, delay death, but Helena already understood everything. Anyone who saw you would understand that the injuries you received were not compatible with life.

“Please don’t...please,” Leon muttered, trying to stop the scarlet stain spreading under your chest. “Baby, I know, I know it hurts, but be patient.”

“Leon...” his partner called quietly, hinting that it was pointless.

And at some point you noticed Ada looking at you without pity, without disgust, without any other emotions. Just another corpse that crossed their path. Wong only had a couple of scratches. She did not writhe in agony and Leon would quickly find solace in her immediately after your death, this thought made your body gather its last strength and with a tearing cough look at the man in front of you, in whose eyes you could see fear for your life. On your last breath, you decided to hurt him before you die, as punishment for what he did to your heart, crushing it like a paper ball, and then tearing it apart, throwing you pathetic scraps... Well, that's how you saw it.

Leon caught that look, something in it even scared him, but your next words, which were the last, were forever imprinted in his memory and on his heart. Because you knew how painfully he endures the fact that someone hates him. You pulled your hand out of his and with hatred hissed something that was not even true in essence. It's just that at this very moment you wanted him to understand what pain he caused you with his love for Ada Wong.

"I... ha-te... you"

Everything inside Leon snapped in the same second. His love for Ada has remained a pain in your heart, but... the same pain will remain in him. The last breath, and your eyes, which he loved so much, glazed over, and your mouth remained slightly ajar. Ada... she didn't say anything, but was she surprised? Leon grabbed your hand again, trying to feel at least a weak pulse, but the words you said were pounding in his head, making tears flow from his eyes.

"No," he whispered softly, unable to believe what was happening. You couldn't die in his arms like that and you couldn't say those words. You had no reason to say those words to him! "Come on, look at me, I'll take you to a safe place. They will help you"

Helena put her hand on his shoulder, realizing how it hurt him in the end. He doesn't even have the opportunity to leave your body in a safe place and all he and Ada could do was watch him stroke your cheek with one hand holding your shoulders. The pose is exactly similar to when he defended Ada in China, only she was able to survive and you unfortunately did not.

"It's not your fault... no one is to blame for her death," Ada only said. She felt sorry for him " And her words... Leon..."

"She was not herself," Helena picked up, looking at Leon silently

Ada at some point correctly decided that it was out of jealousy. Just the last time to prick a loved one knowing that he will keep these words to himself for a long time. But they didn't have time for mourning and tears, however, even she didn't have the tongue to tell Leon to leave you here. So she just asked for his jacket and wrapped you in it, believing that you really would like it - to be enveloped in the fragrance of a loved one before death.

now was simply not the time and place to grieve, but even she did not understand the meaning of the words you said. After all, Leon really left her for you. Ada couldn't give him the stability and love he needed. Their complicated relationship hurt Leon in a way, but with you he became a normal person. She understood this, so she calmly retreated, because neither he nor she had ever felt sincere love for each other. Leon found this bright feeling in you by breaking off even short dates with her forever, and all Ada could do was really help him later.

Your death was committed out of place and all three of them understood that from Leon now only the shadow of the former man will remain and he himself will wallow in alcohol constantly replaying your dying words on repeat.

You really shouldn't have told him that.

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part IX (act II)

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

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

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

~*~

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Ten years, remember?)

(Of course he’s a good liar.)

(Surprise, surprise.)

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

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

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

(Here we go…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grian raises his eyebrows. “No end?”

“No portals?” Bdubs echoes disbelievingly.

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

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

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

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

Horror seizes Jimmy. “That’s awful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a brief silence.

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

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

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

Jimmy’s stomach drops.

Oh.

(There we go, now they’ve got it.)

(Makes sense, right?)

(Honestly, it’s so obvious…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Uh oh, no Impulse to the rescue…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Oh, sure.)

(That’s what they think…)

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

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

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

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

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

“They put you in a farm?!”

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

Ah. This must be ‘full demon’ mode.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, why?” Jimmy asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His cuffs do!” Jimmy points out.

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

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

Joel backs off. “Alright, fair enough.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(That went… surprisingly well.)

(Give it time.)

‘Oh, shove off,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

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

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

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

(So deceiving…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

(Are you sure about that?)

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

Distress shoots through Jimmy. “Tango-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(What a start to a relationship!)

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

(A sadist and a liar, lucky you.)

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

Tango tenses. “You should.”

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

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

The silence that follows is deafening.

(And there it is!)

(Finally showing his true colors.)

(He did try to tell you…)

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

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

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

(Ooh, someone finally grew a backbone-)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something like hope.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you.”

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

They don’t need words after that.

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, that’s what you think!”

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

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

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

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

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

“And handsome, too,” Jimmy adds cheekily.

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

“Don’t encourage him,” Tango groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, of course,” Tango replies sagely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please do,” Jimmy chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tango hesitates. “Okay, and…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For sure,” Grian agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A brief silence follows this revelation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tango hesitates, staring at their intertwined hands.

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

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

Jimmy gasps. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

(Oh boy, here we go.)

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

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

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

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

~*~

Jimmy’s startled awake by a shout.

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

Impulse nods. “Yep.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

“Are we really sure we wanna do this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimmy closes his eyes and squeezes Tango’s hand.

“One.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spikes?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

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

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

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

(Oh, gonna make that mistake again?)

‘Shut up,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

“Need some help, hun?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimmy smiles. “Sure.”

~*~ 

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

Grain nods. “Yeah, I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, nice,” Grian breathes.

“Yes!” Impulse cheers. “We did it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tango snorts. “Oh, sure. Easy peasy.”

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

Tango’s expression softens. “Yeah.”

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

~*~

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

<PearlescentMoon> Ooh :0 

<InTheLittleWood> wait seriously? already??

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

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

<Grian> :P 

~*~

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

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

Jimmy hums. “For what?”

“For… not givin’ up on me.”

“What’d’you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

Jimmy wakes up to a cold bed.

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

The alarm bells become a siren.

No, no, no, no, no.

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

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

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

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player walks through a portal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both of them shout at exactly the same moment.

“What are you doing here?!”

~*~

[kasagia]

in “a powerful man” how do you think coryo would take it if the reader told him that she’d forgive him completely only if she was allowed to have an affair with another man once too, since he had one with livia? love your fic btw ❤️

Thank you veeeeeery much, dear anonymous!!! I'm so glad you liked it!! 😊😊🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵

I think this is probably the first time someone has asked me a question about one of my oneshots, so let's make this a headcon. (Also, because I have neither the inspiration nor the time to write, maybe it will stimulate me somehow and I will feel more willing to write again. And maybe I got some inspiration too.) 🙈🙈

I'm talking about this 'version' of Coryo.

How do I think Coriolanus would react to you wanting to have a 'revenge affair' as a price for your forgiveness: (with smut?)

NO. A definite and categorical no. Coryo has no intention of sharing you, even for the shortest moment, with anyone else. You are his fiancée (not willingly, but still), and he will not allow the hands of some lesser man to stain what is his,

Does he want your complete forgiveness? A return to what once was between you? A carefree relationship where you trusted him and freely showed your devotion and deep feelings? He admits that it would be nice, but he doesn't want it at that price,

Coriolanus will have you anyway. It doesn't matter whether you let him or not. You are his new obsession—the future First Lady. And after being elected president, he knows that nothing can stop him. He has the most power. Over everything, including you.

Therefore no. He disagrees.

He is ready to break you, to force you into the woman of his dreams, to subject you to thousands of manipulations, than to allow any other man to get close to you. You have no right to betray him. Never. You are committed to him for the rest of your life, and he will do anything to make sure you know that.

He will even go as far as threatening your family and loved ones (especially your younger sister, for whom you have a soft spot). Therefore, you have no choice but to play wisely in Coriolanus' game, in which you have become a forced participant.

Let's imagine you make him this offer...

"Where does this sudden surge of tenderness come from, my petal? I'm not complaining, but usually when it comes from you, it also comes with a price to pay. What do you want from me this time?" He asks you after a particularly hot, passionate, and affectionate session in his bedroom, wrapping his arms around you and pressing you against his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, lazily drawing patterns on his chest with your finger. You shrug, pressing a kiss on his jaw. He hugs you tighter, dipping his head and burying his nose in your hair. You lie there in each other's arms for a moment. You wait for his heartbeat to slow down a little and for him to relax enough for you to ask him your question. "That was nice, right?" You ask innocently, continuing to caress his chest muscles with your feathery touch. "So much so that I'm afraid of what you'll ask me after this." He jokes and presses a kiss on your temple. "Wouldn't you rather have it all the time? My voluntary affection, passion, and desire? To be adored by me not only in front of the eyes of the Capitol?" You ask, placing small kisses on his neck. You distract him for a moment. He closes his eyes and bites his buttom lip, holding back a moan as you suddenly suck on his skin. You make sure to leave a hickey there as you lightly bite his skin. You pull away, then, so you can look into his eyes. "What do you want?" He asks curiously, his hand caressing your waist and every bit of skin he can get to despite you being wrapped in the covers. "Do you remember when you cheated on me with Livia?" "It wasn't cheating; I only did it because I had to. I felt no pleasure with her. No, as I feel each time we are together like this. But continue." He interrupts you, frowning disapprovingly. He didn't want to think of it as a betrayal. More like something... business. The thing he simply had to do for his career. You shiver, feeling sick just thinking about it. "I want the same." "You want to sleep with her?" He asks amusedly with a small chuckle, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between you for a moment after your words. "Not with her. With someone else. You know. Feel the thrill of something new and exciting. Besides, it would be a perfect proof of your devotion, don't you think? I would know that you were able to rise above your pride and that I could trust you again. That we are both equal. Enough to make me fall in love with you again. Didn't you promise me that? That you will do all in your power to make me love you again?" "Oh, and I will. But I'll kill all the men in Panem before I let anyone lay a finger on what's mine. And you, petal, belong to me. You will fall in love with me again. If not of your own will, then thanks to my... nudges in the right direction. It's up to you how painful they will be." "So you don't want my forgiveness?" You ask, furious, trying to match his scowl with yours. He squeezes you tighter, making you bite your lip, holding back a hiss of pain as his fingers dig painfully into your hips and buttocks. "Not necessarily. I want you. And I got you. All to myself. What difference does it make if I have to hold your throat or your hand while I am pushing into you?" With that question, he wraps his hand around your throat and presses his mouth aggressively against yours, allowing you no resistance. You moan as your tongues intertwine, and he hovers above you again, his length pressing alive and hard against your thigh again as he grinds against you, spreading his pre-cum on your skin.

Will he admit to jealousy? Of course not. He will keep telling you that you are his. That, as his property, you must obey him; otherwise, he will ruin your scientific career and take away the research you are working on.

Another excuse is that the Capitol thinks you are the perfect couple. What happens if someone finds out you're cheating on them? Coriolanus cannot let this happen. After all, the reputations of the two of you are the most important thing to him. He won't risk it in any way. And certainly not, so you can fuck another man.

And there would also be the problem of quietly disposing of your potential lover's corpse, because there's no way Coriolanus would let someone live who had tasted his First Lady's pussy.

Let's assume this does happen and you are having an affair…

Saints, help the one who dared to sleep with you behind Coriolanus' back.

There's no way he wouldn't find out about it.

You're so followed and watched over by his men and spies that it's a wonder you managed to sleep with anyone else and even keep it a secret from him for some time.

But when he finds out... it's an understatement to say he was furious. He was crazy. But if he had learned anything, it was how to plan revenge, how to strike, and when, so that his victim would never get up and regret ever going against him and becoming an obstacle.

Of course, your lover ends up dead after many weeks of being followed (to such an extent that he went crazy, feeling constant anxiety and eyes on the back of his neck), brutal interrogation by peackeepers, charges of high treason, and a public execution preceded by dosing him with various poisons and undergoing painful experiments. (Coriolanus even personally castrated him.)

But he's not just taking revenge on your lover. You get punished too.

The peacekeepers won't let you into the lab. Your parents and sister are forcibly sent to one of the districts for 'the holidays' without being able to contact you. Dr. Gaul can't talk to you either. You are confined to your house, unable to contact anyone who is not Coriolanus.

And he waits patiently until the loneliness and inability to do anything begin to affect you.

For the first few weeks, you struggle, trying to get out. You quickly realise that you don't have this option. His most trusted people and the Avox make sure you don't leave your room. And you start going crazy. You miss conversation, touch, and another person. You even miss Coryo.

Three months of your isolation has passed when he appears in your 'prison'.

He accepts with a huge smile that you throw yourself at him, begging for forgiveness. You rip off his clothes before he can even respond to your pleas and pleasure him as best as you can, just to regain any semblance of freedom he once gave you.

You spend the whole night pleasing him, but he doesn't say a word, only moaning and grunting, even as you cry, begging him to say something, as you ride him like your life depends on it (which actually isn't far from the truth).

The next day, he is not in bed in the morning.

Instead, a crowd of make-up artists, designers, and maids come to prepare you for YOUR WEDDING.

You find out that he made people in the Capitol think that your family was spending one last vacation together before you got married. And he, being a good fiancé, let you go.

You're too busy thinking about finally being free from the confines of four walls of your room to even think about what a son of a bitch he is.

And after the wedding, when you go on your 'honeymoon' and he holds you on his lap in your compartment on the train, he mocks how little it took to break you and that you have to make up to him for 3 months without you, when he had to hold back and keep control over his desires so as not to come to you too soon.

When I kiss you and gently strip you of your wedding dress, you realise how far he can actually go to get what he wants.

You decide to play by his rules. Pretend to be an obedient and loving wife. At least for now.

You will slowly regain your old life. And maybe if you play smarter and manipulate him more delicately without showing too much act of rebellion, he may become your puppet and not the other way around. After all, you both were powerful. In your own way.

And you both win and lose in different batches of this game between you two.

[wei-ying-kexing-apologist]

The Loyalty of Wen Zhuliu in The Untamed

Okay, I know this is maybe one of the more peculiar places to start with The Untamed analysis/commentary considering all the Big Gay Feelings and the Microexpressions and the Queer Allegory. But I was so incredibly surprised at how much I loved the character of Wen Zhuliu aka The Core Melting Hand. An unorthodox choice (haha see what I did there) for a Top 5 favorite character from the show, and definitely one that @lurkingshan questioned me about, and what it came down to was the way his loyalty to the Wen Clan manifests- especially in comparison to Wen Qing -because WZL does not appear to have a limit to the orders he will follow while WQ very, very much does. 

Loyalty is such an important aspect of The Untamed, with various characters experiencing some rather severe consequences for the actions they take in the name of allegiance. Wen Qing’s loyalty to the Wen Clan is forced through her and Wen Ning’s adoption/threats of violence to her loved ones hanging over her head. Wen Zhuliu, we don’t know all that much about how he came to swear fealty, but it appears like his commitment to the Wen clan is completely voluntary. [FWIW, my headcanon is that every other clan was too scared of his core melting ability and shunned him, but that isn’t really relevant to the conversation at hand.]

gif by @icantgetanythingdone

You’d think in a scenario like this, with one person’s forced hand and one person’s proffered one that the tolerance threshold for evil deeds would be reversed. Generally you would assume that Wen Qing with so much more to lose, would require a lot to brazenly betray the Wen Clan. Whereas, Wen Zhuliu might just decide his debt of gratitude suddenly has a time limit. And, sure, you might be thinking “well, Core Melting Hand did choose to work for the Wen Clan so obviously he would be super willing to do evil deeds without ever betraying them.” Which yes, that is a valid read, but my impression of Wen Zhuliu is that he frequently disagrees with the actions he is taking, but who does them anyway, and who does not always take the action that will keep Wen Chao safe, but he also does not use either of those things (his disagreement or his silence) as a way to justify his own moral rightness compared to the rest of the Wen Clan, and that is why I found him such a compelling character. 

And I promise, I’m not just pulling this out of my ass, this is the read I got from watching Feng Ming Jing’s performance. 

Let’s start with what we see of Wen Zhuliu in Episode 13 during the fight between the Wen Clan and the other disciples in the cave. 

First of all, I was intrigued by the fact that Wen Zhuliu does not join in on the fighting when Wen Chao commands his soldiers to attack the others. Presumably it’s because he’s Wen Chao’s body guard, but Wen Zhuliu is a formidable opponent and it was a genuine surprise to me to see him sitting back and watching this huge fight take place when he could definitely step in and do some considerable damage. However, that is less important to me than the look on his face as he sits and observes the fighting because…this man could not care less. Like his anger at this fight is so far gone that it will take three reincarnations to even feel it again. 

And if we think about the fact that Wen Zhuliu has sworn his loyalty to the Wen clan and has carried out their evil deeds on a number of occasions, we’d assume that he would have some level of attachment to the honor of the Wen clan and would thusly be even remotely emotionally impacted by this obvious assault on the Wen clan’s power. It is a truly jarring image to see how disparate the reactions to this fight are between Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu

He only really even beings to tune in to anything happening in this cave when Wei Wuxian starts running his mouth. 

And if Wen Zhuliu’s purpose here is to act as a bodyguard to Wen Chao, thus explaining why he does not join in the fighting and takes a step forward when the fight starts in order to stand directly next to Wen Chao, then it is also of interest to me that when Wei Wuxian starts walking towards Wen Chao with a sword in his hand, and Wen Chao takes a step forward, that Wen Zhuliu hangs back. 

As Wei Wuxian recites Glories of the Wen Clan, we see Wen Chao fuming, taking the statement as a direct threat against him. 

Core Melting Hand however is like…hmmm that sounds familiar to me. Literally shaking his head at Wen Chao’s response because…I mean…Wei Wuxian has a point.

gif by @contagiousrhythminmybrain

And when Wei Wuxian is like “the punishment for insulting a Wen elder is death without trial, right?” Wen Zhuliu is literally standing there like “I mean….yes.” 

It is only when Wen Chao’s life is actually under threat, when Wen Chao takes a swing at Wei Wuxian, and gets captured and held at blade point that any level of disinterest in the scene or silent admission to the accuracy of Wei Wuxian’s statements disappears and suddenly he is hyperfocused and the last one to follow Wei Wuxian’s orders to stop the fighting. He only puts his sword away when Wei Wuxian appeals to his loyalty to the Wen clan, reminding him that if Wen Chao is hurt that even Wen Zhuliu will be punished for it. 

When it is finally time to fight, Wen Zhuliu is quick and efficient, engaging Jeng Cheng in combat for less than a minute before running off to re-join the rest of the Wen clan. At which point he is back to letting Wen Chao do whatever. He has no attachment nor any obligation to anyone in the cave below so what does it matter to him if the ropes are cut? Wen Qing on the other hand, is helped up the ledge by Wen Chao himself, but she is slow to climb because she’s so obviously worried about the fight below, and she announces her own allegiances when she cries out and tries to stop the ropes from being cut. Wen Qing’s lack of loyalty to the Wen clan despite her repeated promises not to help Wei Wuxian and others again is so incredibly visible. 

But when Wen Qing and Wen Chao are verbally sparring about Wen Chao sealing up the cave, Wen Zhuliu is tuned the fuck in on that conversation, but it is not Wen Chao that he is looking at, it’s Wen Qing. 

And when Wen Qing starts to call out the glaring flaw in Wen Chao’s plan to seal all the cultivators in to the cave, Wen Zhuliu looks away. Obviously he is blurred out in the background and a lot of Feng Ming Jing’s acting work relies on microexpressions, so we are not going to catch exactly what emotion is going on here. But I do think that Wen Zhuliu has a tendency to look away when he is in silent agreement with whoever is standing up to Wen Chao. But that is a whole lotta me reading in to things, so I digress. 

It is fun for me that Wen Zhuliu is the one to take Wen Qing by the arm and drag her away from the mouth of the cave. 

Now, I think the part of the show that got me really deeply interested in Wen Zhuliu as a character is, predictably, his participation in the fall of Lotus Pier. Because I can almost guarantee that this man does Not Want to Be There. 

Like, a) he redirects his attack before he can actually land the hit on Madam Yu to attack Jiang Cheng instead  

and b) he stands there and fully watches them fly away, and they spend time on that dock. Like, there is a full two minutes of run time where they are talking, and fighting, and she is just standing there on the pier watching the boat float away and she is not interrupted by Wen Zhuliu at all during that time. I fully believe that he let them get away.

And maybe this is because I don’t know how his powers work, re: melting golden cores (I assume that it requires more than just him laying a hand on you), but it was not lost on me that Wen Zhuliu is practicing non-lethal methods of martial arts when he is attacking Lotus Pier for almost the entire battle. He does not draw his blade until Jiang Feng Mian arrives, and Wen Zhuliu does not even engage him in a fight. Jiang Feng Mian’s death is swift, and Wen Zhuliu’s blade is bloody. But afterwards? When Wen Zhuliu is overseeing the collection of all the dead, he does not look pleased in the slightest to have achieved a victory here. He even ensures that Jiao Jiao does not further desecrate Madam Yu’s body (“This bitch Yu! I initially wanted to stab her a few more times. That Wen Zhuliu had the audacity to stop me.”) and Wen Chao even remarks on Wen Zhuliu’s disposition and the beliefs he tells Wen Chao about (“Wen Zhuliu has a strange temperament. He talked about warriors rather being killed than humiliated. This person was killed by him. Why is he still talking about these things?”)

So, it is clear to me that Wen Zhuliu does not agree with the Wen Clan’s decision to attack Lotus Pier, he is upset about the death of Madam Yu, and he even stops Jiao Jiao from disrespecting her corpse. He has not been eating, drinking, or paying attention to Wen Chao at all since the banquet started. And yet, I agree with Wen Chao’s assessment that Wen Zhuliu deserves the most credit for the massacre of the Jiang Clan. 

He grabs his drink only after Wen Chao tells him to, and here is where we get into the good stuff. Because this man smells his drink, knows something is up, and minds his own goddamn business. This man willingly lets himself be drugged. And says absolutely fuck all to Wen Chao about the fact that their alcohol has been roofied. 

gif by @icantgetanythingdone

And thus the question of Wen Zhuliu’s unflinching loyalty truly comes in to play. Because what are his boundaries? He is so loyal to the Wen clan that he will unwillingly facilitate the massacre of an entire martial arts sect, that includes someone he obviously cares about or otherwise deeply respects, but that loyalty does not extend to warning the Wen clan about active threats to their health and safety?!

Like, this man is not a double agent, he defends Wen Chao with his life until the end of his life, he is not using this loyalty as a cover to betray Wen Ruohan down the line, he agrees with what enemies of the Wen clan are saying from time to time and he still attacks them anyway. But this man knows that his drink is drugged, that all their drinks are drugged, meaning something is about to go down, and he will have no control over what happens to himself or anyone else around him if they consume that alcohol, and he drinks it anyway. 

I cannot emphasize enough that the entire Wen clan is knocked the fuck out by this drug and are therefore defenseless to the point where if Wei Wuxian wanted to he could have just walked his self-sacrificing, arrogant, bisexual ass back in to Lotus Pier, pulled a blade, and slaughtered everyone. (He doesn’t, but he could have, and he definitely should have) but Wen Zhuliu drinks anyway and does not breathe a word of it to Wen Chao. 

It fascinates me. Like, is this his way of punishing himself for carrying out the wishes of the Wen Clan? Is this a manifestation of his guilt? I’d be inclined to say yes, but it’s not like this is the first time or the last time that he will keep shit to himself. And I can’t even say that it’s because Wen Zhuliu knows that Wei Wuxian is tied to Madam Yu because she hates that boy. And he melts Jiang Cheng’s golden core so he clearly is okay with completely destroying Madam Yu’s biological son’s ability to cultivate (which I do think leans more toward the humiliation v. death thing that WZL was talking about earlier).

Speaking of Golden Cores, the scene in Episode 19 where he hits Wei Wuxian is the other major moment that really got me when it came to solidifying Wen Zhuliu’s character as one of my favorites in the show. Because, yet again, he knows something is up and he keeps his mouth fucking shut. 

gif by @contagiousrhythminmybrain

So we know that at this point in the show Wei Wuxian has given his golden core to Jiang Cheng, thus making him mortal and taking away his ability to engage in cultivation. In a number of different ways, Wei Wuxian is no longer a threat. They could kill Wei Wuxian in this moment and it would be easy and I do not think it would be anywhere close to a massive leap for Wen Zhuliu to make the connection between Jiang Cheng’s core being melted, him disappearing, and then Wei Wuxian no longer having a core. This is also critical information that the Wen clan should have if they are to continue doing their evil deeds. 

With someone as (theoretically) loyal as Wen Zhuliu, who has continuously facilitated evil, it would not be difficult to assume that he would find the potential restoration of Jiang Cheng’s golden core pretty fucking important intel for Wen Chao to have. It is much less likely that the Jiang clan would be able to rise again and rebel against the Wen clan if Wei Wuxian is dead and Jiang Cheng is mortal. But once again he does not bother to open his mouth, and thus the fate of the entire martial arts world is sealed. 

And I genuinely don’t have a good understanding of how much Wen Zhuliu is okay with throwing Wei Wuxian from this great a height and letting him die in the Burial Grounds. I can’t say that he looks particularly happy about it.

But I have to say, they were flying for quite some time, long enough that Wen Zhuliu definitely had room to let Wen Chao know that Wei Wuxian no longer has a Golden Core and that they might want to find Jiang Cheng because his might have been restored. Saying nothing in the moments before a man is about to plummet to his death will not take care of the problem at hand. As someone who owes a debt to the Wen Clan for recognizing his talents, is he not obligated to report something that could be a safety concern for the clan he’s sworn loyalty to? 

Regardless, we reach Episode 20 and it’s time for everything to crumble. Again Wen Zhuliu is exhibiting genuine care towards members of the Wen clan, literally wiping tears from Wen Chao’s eyes, tending his wounds, trying to keep him calm. And what does Wen Chao do? He threatens him, calls him worthless, tries to send him away. And sure he immediately backtracks cause he’s a coward and he’s just lashing out because he is scared. Wen Zhuliu has kept his mouth shut on many occasions, but he has also continuously carried out the will of the Wen clan whether or not he agreed with what they wanted, and after all of that, Wen Chao is still treating him like shit and Wen Zhuliu still stays with him until the end. 

gif by @suriquesse

Wei Wuxian shows up, serving cunt with his evil little flute, and Wen Zhuliu looks like he knows he’s about to die. 

And I doubt Wei Wuxian has picked up on the same things I have when it comes to Core Melting Hand, but he still gives Wen Zhuliu the opportunity to step aside. Not in a “you’ll be spared” kind of way, but in a “I will give you the chance for your last act on Earth to not be protecting this sniveling little baby” kind of way. 

And Wen Zhuliu, despite almost certainly knowing that what he says here will not leave the room, that Wen Chao is going to die here, that he has the opportunity to actually step aside and just let Wei Wuxian put him out of his misery, remains loyal to the Wen clan.

There is a fight, and Wen Zhuliu dies choking on Madam Yu’s purple lightning, in what I would consider a full circle moment. RIP to my guy. 

In conclusion, I want to make it clear that I do think that Wen Zhuliu is evil. The fact that he does not want to be doing the majority of what he does absolutely does not absolve him of his actions. And normally I would not be as interested in a following orders type of character. I think because of how Feng Ming Jing performs this role, I am utterly convinced that Wen Zhuliu does not think that he is better than the rest of them because he's just following orders. Anyway, he is compelling to me as a character because of how his loyalty manifests. It is so much more evil for him to go kill everyone at Lotus Pier than it would be for him to tell Wen Chao that his drink is drugged. It is much worse for him to melt Jiang Cheng’s golden core than it is to tell Wen Chao that Wei Wuxian doesn’t have his core anymore. So why is it that he minds his own business in those moments? 

I think what it boils down to is that there is just enough information about the Core Melting Hand in the show to hint at something deeper and more complex below the surface, but there is not enough information to give us a solid understanding of why he is carrying out these orders. All we learn is that the Wen clan appreciated his talents, we have no other context, and I am truly curious how my interest in this character would change if I had more information. Would I consider him in a higher tier of evil if the appreciation was something small instead of like a major turning point in his life? Maybe. 

Anyway, Wen Zhuliu is an incredibly compelling character despite minimal lines and screen time, and I really have to hand it to Feng Ming Jing for breathing so much life in to the Core Melting Hand that I wrote a whole essay about him.

[bardic-tales]

The Leviathan method: Step 24: Flesh Out Factions

This next step of the Leviathan Method has me developing the factions in greater detail. There are four factions that make up Blood and Stardust: Jenova's Influence, Outsiders, Shinra, and SOLDIER (which is an offshoot of the Shinra faction).

Below, I explain how the Shinra faction relates to Bianca Moore, the protagonist of Fantasy Worlds Collide and Blood and Stardust. For anyone who is following along with this that have never played Crisis Core or the OG game, please know that there is a significant spoiler for FF VII below.

Bianca Moore – Relationship with the Shinra Faction

Content Warning: abuse, captivity, coercion, experimentation, forced involvement, mental decline, psychological manipulation, suffering, trauma, violence, vengeance.

Is Bianca a Member of Shinra?

No, Bianca is not a member of Shinra, nor is she affiliated with any of its sub-factions, including SOLDIER. However, due to her close relationship with Sephiroth and her immense magical potential, she is viewed as a potential asset or threat by Shinra's leadership.

Was Her Involvement Voluntary or Forced?

Bianca's entanglement with Shinra is entirely involuntary. She arrives on Gaia with no prior knowledge of Shinra or its control over the planet. However, her growing bond with Sephiroth and her presence during the Nibelheim Incident place her directly in Shinra's crosshairs. When Sephiroth destroys Nibelheim and vanishes, Shinra takes immediate action, capturing Bianca, Zack, and Cloud to experiment on them.

Though she is not a member of Shinra, her capture at the end of Blood and Stardust forces her into their hands, marking the beginning of her descent into torment under Hojo's experiments.

Restrictions and Privileges of Her Involvement

Because Bianca is a captive, not a member, she experiences only restrictions rather than privileges:

Bianca is imprisoned by Shinra at the end of Blood and Stardust, stripped of her agency and subjected to experimentation.

As an unknown entity possessing powerful magic, she is of great scientific interest to Hojo (and then Diana Ravenscroft). He views her celestial-demonic physiology as something to be studied, to test with Jenova cells, and manipulated.

Bianca’s connection to Sephiroth makes her valuable. If Shinra cannot use her as an asset, they would rather eliminate her to prevent her from aiding Sephiroth in the future.

How Does Shinra Affect Her Personal Relationships?

Shinra's influence indirectly strengthens Bianca's bond with Sephiroth. She arrives on Gaia already on the run from her past, but after seven days of staying by Sephiroth’s side, she witnesses his mental decline as he uncovers the truth about his origins. The more she sees how Shinra betrayed him, the more her hatred for them grows. This shared resentment fuels her devotion to Sephiroth and solidifies her decision to follow him into darkness.

Bianca has no illusions about Shinra’s cruelty. By the time she is captured, she loathes them completely. However, her hatred fully manifests after her escape, when she emerges from Hojo’s lab as someone irrevocably changed. Shinra becomes an enemy she seeks to annihilate, aligning her with Sephiroth’s vendetta against the corporation.

Quick Reference:

She is an enemy and a captive, not an affiliate.

She is captured by Shinra after the Nibelheim Incident, marking the beginning of her suffering under their control.

Shinra strips her of her freedom, experiments on her, and sees her as either a tool or a liability.

Their shared hatred for Shinra becomes a core part of their relationship.

By the time she escapes, she is no longer just a fugitive. She is a vengeful force determined to see Shinra fall.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @whatwedointhecraft @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @seastarblue

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon

[emblematicae]

VALEDICTORIAN, EGO TE PROVOCO: PART ONE, ŪNUS

Tom Marvolo Riddle x Female Reader

Content Warnings: 1940’s Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, predominantly written in the third-person limited perspective of Tom Riddle, intentional minimal use of Reader’s perspective, canon-divergence, canon-typical violence; possessive, obsessive, and emotionally manipulative behavior, emotional abuse, first-degree murder, voluntary manslaughter, abuse of power and authority, complicity, coercion, petty thievery, reoccurring themes of death and acceptance, childhood friends, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one-sided rivalry, jealousy, limerence, chronic illness, hallucinations, ghosts, mental instability, morally grey reader, Tom Riddle is his own warning.

CONTENTS PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER

Tom had gotten to know you more within the past week than he did for all the prior years you have been a resident at the Wool’s Orphanage, which was saying quite a lot considering all he did was idly linger around in your presence. He put a prompt halt to his hermit activities, no longer did he hole himself up in room 27 or the book room. Instead, he came out when the other children were around—if only to come and observe you. And so you consciously held onto the fact that the boy was being abnormally social as of late (per applicable standards to what the term ‘social’ would be defined as for Tom Riddle) and locked it away in a fractured pendant of your mind for safekeeping. You were unmistakably aware of his newfound company from the shaded sidelines, even if you did not outwardly acknowledge it through verbal communication. You could have left it alone and ignored it entirely, but you would much rather have demonstrated your order over him, which is exactly what you did.

You kept your sharp eyes on him at all times, standing a little too close for comfort when you finally found him lost in the crowd of children, moving from the unspoken assigned seating arrangement during mealtime in favor of sitting right beside him. They were empty threats, you did not wish to intimidate Tom (not that you believed he could be) but it had to be known that you were talented. Not only were you talented in ways that the other children could not comprehend, much like himself, you knew how to use your talents, and you daresay better than he ever could; for you never had the others suspecting the worst of you.

The other children paid no mind to this out of sheer, ignorant bliss. Especially now that Tom’s attention was no longer on them, but rather, on you. In a way, he was beside himself. There was plenty to reflect upon after what he saw that day, but before making any hasty and unnecessary conjectures, Tom would have to accept that at the foundation of his copious, theoretical presumptions which now plagued his every thought: you were different. Different in the way that he was, and how could it possibly be that there were two completely ’different’ children in England (or perhaps all of Europe for whatever he knew or cared to know) that both resided under the Wool’s Orphanage’s roof, by chance.

And yet through it all—his unanswered questions, his endless pondering, his speculations that were sure to drive him mad—the situation regarding the diary was never addressed. It didn’t need to be, not when Tom planned to force a reaction out of you today.

Tom would have already been outdoors in the desolate courtyard amongst the other orphans, where he should have been, if he hadn’t had a run-in with little Amy Benson. Yet he can’t help but think this turned out in his favor as he watched Amy shriek, escaping through the backdoor leading outside and desperately running toward you. Your back was turned to the orphanage as you surveyed the other children who were playing, but you briskly swiveled around upon hearing her shrill cries. You didn’t even have the opportunity to turn around fully before Amy collided with you, nearly knocking you off your feet in the process. She grabbed a fistful of your long skirt and sobbed into the fabric of your blouse, soaking it with her salty tears as she hid her face, pointing an accusing finger in the direction of the door. Outside it was nice, the weather was a tad warmer than usual, and the sun tried its hardest to shine through the thick clouds. But inside, past the doorway that was blocked by Tom, it was dark, vacant, and bitterly cold, frightening even.

He scrutinized you with a sneer as you comforted Amy. But the feeling of eyes did not go unnoticed, and instead of glaring at him as he learned to expect from the other kids and caretakers, your lips curved into a faint smile. If Tom was surprised by this, he did not show it, standing perfectly still. The reaction wasn’t out of malice, nor was it because you took kindly to his tormenting behavior toward Amy. Tom could not concur whether it was your way of greeting him or understanding the new predicament you’ve placed yourself in, a consequence of your boldness.

You threaded your fingers through Amy’s hair and tried to soothe her by running your hands through her tangled locks. You continued to gently pet her, letting her weep for a few more minutes in your arms, all the while returning the staring contest that Tom was adamant about maintaining with you. In all honesty, Tom could get lost in your eyes. They looked detached as if you were somewhere far away but still here. Trying to decipher what was behind them, what thoughts of yours had confounded him. Tom was quite wise to the fact that he possessed a limited capacity for being able to unfold the minds of other living beings. It was a suppressed talent he practiced on small animals on plenty of occasions with repeated succession, and enough on the other children to establish he was capable of something they knew of but could not entirely understand (though further improvement was not yielded, for he could not control them in the way he could with little creatures). He had never attempted it on you, not that he had reason to do so before the diary incident, but now…

You were the first to look away, tearing your eyes from Tom to look at Amy. You withdrew your arms from her trembling frame only to place your hands on either side of her face, cupping it and absentmindedly tilting her head to the side as if to inspect her for any visible injuries. Your mouth moved, and though Tom could not read your lips, it was likely you inquired about the aforementioned concern because after you let go of her, Amy hesitantly shook her head. She did not get hurt, and he would know, he only gave her a small fright. You knelt to her level, now craning your neck to look up to Amy while you fixed her uniform. When you felt you had done a good enough job at making her look more presentable, you beamed at her with a charming smile. You spoke once more, and whatever you said must have uplifted her spirits as she hugged you tightly before skipping away to join the other children. You stood up and dusted off your clothing, eyes following her as she went to prattle on to one of the other girls, ensuring she had made it far enough away before you turned your full attention toward Tom. You had intended to wave him over, but he was already approaching before you could even gesture to him.

You’d heard of his quarrels with the other children, it was impossible to overlook after having lived at the orphanage for so long. Never did you see them for yourself, oftentimes, Tom was smart enough—conniving enough—to carry out his misdeeds in secrecy. The head woman, and even the part-timer Martha, could never catch him in the act either. Even though with common sense they could infer that Tom was responsible for wreaking havoc and causing disturbances, they could never claim eye-witness reports. And if Tom was sly enough to evade Mrs. Cole’s vigilance, then there was no hope you would ever see it either.

“It’s a nice surprise to see you enjoying this wonderful weather today, Tom.”

You always had the best manners out of any of the other children at the orphanage, possibly even better than some of the adults. Tom remembers you would always offer your salutations to him whenever they were due, but he never reciprocated them. Not even bothering to reply with a nod or glance your way, but you never seemed too hurt or affected by this.

Purposefully, Tom brushed your shoulder as he passed you, with no sign of acknowledging you aside from the brief contact despite how you anticipated a peeved reply. And although he gave the impression that he was currently paying no attention to you, it was quite the opposite. Tom watched through the corner of his eye as you stood in place for a moment before deciding to follow him, just as he hoped you would. Truthfully he did not have a contingency plan if you hadn’t acted accordingly, at least not one he could execute within a day, and frankly, Tom was growing tired of playing charades with you. He chalked it up to luck this time, awfully humble of him as he relished in the thought of Mrs. Cole scolding you for abandoning your chaperone duties, something that would indubitably come to fruition later in the day.

Eventually, his and your footsteps fell into an equal rhythm, your paces aligning with one another even if you were still a few lagging behind—something Tom could not fault you for considering you were faring quite well today. Whatever comments you had, you kept them to yourself. Now Tom had turned into the watched prey, and you, becoming the alert hunter. He led you as far as he possibly could, a great distance from the main area in which the other kids preferred to spend their time. But he remained within the cusp of the perimeter enforced by Mrs. Cole so he would not be reprimanded. This particular sector within the courtyard was deserted, with no traces of any children having once stepped foot there since no forgotten toys or muddy tracks were trudging along the grimy concrete. The dark, metal gates still enclosed the small section that was tucked away from the rest of the orphanage; it resembled the dim side streets in the city. The kind that always has dirty puddles flooding the ground and newspapers detailing the chilling things that happened in them.

“No further, please. You know we aren’t allowed past this area.” You trailed him all this way. Tom finally stopped to properly acknowledge your presence, examining you who stood with an exhausted grin on your face, and your hands folded up behind your back.

Tom knows good and well that being out of the sights of the matron during recess would only cause trouble, and he wants to know how far you are willing to go. “Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on the other children? Like you always do?” Tom hoped his taunting would invigorate your curiosity, which he already knows you are [curious] for having followed him all this way. Despite the insincerity of his mocking, he still bites back more snark than he lets on.

“Perhaps I should,” you said, letting your eyes wander with fake contemplation before adding, “But I can’t just ignore the only one who’s strayed from the rest of the group, now can I?” you respond with a hum, in that sing-song tone you’re quite fond of using.

Tom carefully chooses his next words, but is ultimately disappointed when he finds that nothing in his meticulously composed brain comes into existence. His breath hitches and he’s blessed with a brief moment of lucidity where he hasn’t overthought, nor turned childishly daft with the assistance of a false-reality, imagination. Tom doesn’t know why you’ve been following him, but then again, he doesn’t know why he’s been following you either. He knows you’ve escorted him all the way here to this barren little spot, it’s the obvious as you mentioned beforehand. But he doesn’t really know. It was more befitting for it to be the other way around. Why is it that you have been following him? He knows not.

Tom reckoned the only purpose could be that after your shared moment—if one could even call it that—you have both been drawn to one another for answers. But what is so perplexing to him is how unconcerned you come across about the whole ordeal. You are not worried in the slightest whether or not he will keep what he saw to himself, a few convincing pleas to Mrs. Cole would have her view of the two of you completely swapped. He could if he wanted. Tom could fabricate as many melodramatic and vulgar lies as he wanted to defame your untouchable image. He could have you become an outcast just like himself because misery loves company. But he doesn’t because Tom doesn’t have the capacity to love anyone or anything, and you don’t seem to have a care in the world about what he does with this information. If anything, Tom suspects that you revel in the fact he knows and has no one to speak to about it.

Understanding your intentions and impossible motives gives him a headache of his own, so he stops thinking altogether. Instead, Tom took a seat—albeit, apprehensively as the ground was filthy and finding a dry, unsoiled place to sit was proving surprisingly difficult—and he waited. You stood beside him, a little ways off to his left but within arms reach. You peered down at him from above, not willing to surrender to your clear fatigue quite yet as you leaned back onto the gated walls for support. Even from below Tom could easily pick up that your breathing had gotten a bit louder, though you weren’t exactly heaving, it was something that was not ignored by him. Spent from a measly walk, are you? He thought to himself arrogantly.

A visitor had welcomed itself, drawing near to you two with its scaly, mute-toned body that was covered in flashy black dots which Tom caught in his peripheral. This was not an unusual experience for him. For whatever reason they always managed to find him, and he admitted (only to himself) that he had pleasant, tolerable, conversations with them. It bravely slithered right up to him without a second thought, emerging from the pitch-black crevice in which it came from. Tom couldn’t help himself, daring to take a quick look at you before making any moves of his own. What would you make of this?

From what he figured after seeing your expression, you didn’t seem to like the small snake. He saw your eyes narrow for only a split second with a grimace that didn’t fully form on your lips to preserve your signature smile. Your brows furrowed when Tom nudged his forefinger in its direction. It climbed and wasted no time wrapping around his wrist, then his hand, until its head was level with his finger; sticking its tongue out every now and again, whispering to him. Not that you could understand what it was saying. And just as Tom noticed that you were about to turn your head with disinterest, he spoke to it as well. Instantaneously you whipped your head back around, focusing on where you were previously looking, down at Tom. He pretended as if you weren’t there, innocently carrying on his speech with the reptile. The whole exchange was going smoothly, your involvement included, and he was pleased to see your face that read of nothing but astonishment.

When you made the most minute movement to crouch down next to him, the snake quickly uncoiled its nimble body from his hand and slithered off elsewhere. But for once, Tom was not disappointed by this. Unlike when the other orphans scared off the snakes he’d previously encountered with their annoying screeches and brutish attempts to chase them away. You were lucky this one was merely a young grass snake, you may not have been as receptive to the ones he typically communicated with. And then the image of you being frightened possesses his mind. Tom has never seen you scared, and it is a very intriguing thought he’ll have to contemplate now.

You gather yourself and seem to be treading your words with much care. “Brilliant. You’re rather special, aren’t you?”

If it were another child, or anyone else for that matter, these words would sound extremely condescending despite it being the grand truth. But you’re good at speaking with people, at working them into your favor, and getting them to like you. The compliment seals the deal for him. It affects him, and Tom realizes he values your opinion, even if he finds the merit so minor that he could almost ignore it entirely.

“You think so?” Tom stupidly plays along, and he tries—tries his damndest to figure out what it is you keep so safely guarded in your mind. Anything will do, he is longing to know.

But before he even has the chance, and before you can even elaborate, your eyes drift past him.

It is subtle, a microscopic movement that would go completely unseen by anyone else if they weren’t watching you as intensely as Tom was. And he is forced to stop trying because whatever you’re doing now is becoming increasingly distracting. You may have been directly facing him, at eye level after being squatted down by his side, chatting away like you were earnestly engaged in the one-sided discussion about something entirely different than what he’d initially asked. But it is your eyes that betray you, so colorful yet absent. As if you were already entirely absorbed by something else. If Tom were to move even a fraction to his right, you would be making proper eye contact with him. He fights the urge to turn around, knowing you have not picked up on the fact he’s dissected you, and doing so would certainly break the illusion that he remains none the wiser. It’s just the two of you. There is only a brick wall behind him. What could you possibly be looking at? What could have possibly captured your undivided attention more than him? After he made a display of showing his talents no less.

Tom spends the better half of his night wondering this, and also wondering why it bothers him so. Only time would tell, he supposed. A late-night distraction would do him no good, not after he’s re-read the same passage a plethora of times without even digesting any of it. His thoughts are engrossed by your actions that continue to elude him. Tom sets the book down, he has to figure out what he ought to do with you now. Another much-needed talk is due, and talk is precisely what Tom plans to do.

Bright and early the following morning, Tom took it upon himself to wake you as early as humanly possible. This was not a hard feat for him, considering he was a late sleeper and early riser, a bad habit he had no intention of breaking anytime soon (or ever, in honesty). He’d overheard whispers that evening before he could finally fall asleep, long after he put his book down. It was something along the lines of you giving Mrs. Cole quite the scare after returning with him in tow, and it wasn’t at all because of his off-putting personality for once. Yesterday, his time with you in the corner of the courtyard had been cut short as the drizzling rain crept in, which hadn’t deterred either of you at the start, but that would soon change as it had quickly turned into a heavy downpour. 

Honestly, Tom did not have faith you would make it back in one whole piece. For being as self-restrained and graceful as you were known to be, you had nearly fallen about several times on the trek back. It was common knowledge that physical exertion and anything labor-intensive was not your strong suit, but he hadn’t known it to be this bad. When you had both made it to the backdoor, Mrs. Cole was already waiting with her arms crossed over her chest and an impatient foot tapping against the damp doormat. Her stern expression had dropped and guilt immediately took her when she saw two orphans hurriedly racing one another to get inside, soaking wet and looking like poor, little puppy-dogs. Tom tries not to think of how pathetic the both of you must have looked. The housemother had fretted you’d come down with a fever, but it appears her worries were for naught because the door to your room remained open.

Now, it was Tom’s shadow that cast over the opening to your tiny abode. He peered inside before standing at the entrance and he could already make out your figure. You were still lying down in your bed, though you must have been awake as you’d already been dressed in uniform, and your face read of nothing but a peaceful rest. It was a bit of a surprise, seeing that the rest of the orphanage was yet to wake. In your hands was your diary, opened at the base by your thumbs, and nothing else as your eyes skimmed the pages (and though he’d loathe to say it, he was very curious to know what was inside). Tom is reminded of the encounter a week prior where he stood in the same exact spot witnessing an almost identical scene, but this time was different. Hearing the debilitated floorboards creak beneath every step he took, you lifted your head.

Surely you weren’t expecting any visitors, much less said visitor being Tom. Courteously, you beckon him over by extending one of your hands and patting the edge of your bed, encouraging him to sit down. Tom enters the claustrophobic room and makes his way over, but not without closing your door first. He does not slam it, nor does he lock it, but the quick and deliberate movement brings a frown to your face. As Tom nears, he deduces that frowns are rather unbecoming of you.

He stops at your bedside, looking down at you. You reply with a hello, “Good morning, Tom. What can I do for you?”

“You remember what you saw yesterday?” His response came rapidly, it almost seemed as he were rudely interrupting you, not that he particularly cared about that kind of thing now that the two of you are alone. And it isn’t a question either, it is a matter of fact. “Yes, of course.”

“Special, correct? That’s what you called it?” Tom didn’t mince his words in the slightest, and thankfully you didn’t need any further explanation to understand his implications.

His eyes take careful notes of your reactions before finally asking, “Then tell me. Tell me about it, because it is clear you are ‘special’ too.”

For a short, innocuous period of time, neither of you move. You hold his gaze, something that comes easy to you, like second nature despite the daunting connotations that come with attempting to provoke Riddle—who seemed to be entirely unbothered. Tom has the patience of a saint when it is required of him, and although he is not fond of impractically waiting around for time to pass, he is willing to wait if the desired outcome will inevitably transpire. Tom is stationary at the side of your bed with no resolve to move, and with that you sigh, shutting your eyes as if to clear your mind; you give into his demands. Calmly shutting your diary, you run your hands over the leather notebook cover before folding them atop the thin journal, and Tom finally takes a seat.

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” you articulate carelessly as if you find it uninteresting, boring. “To be able to do things the other children can’t.”

Tom scowls, only to realize he’s unintentionally doing so too little too late as your eyes fall on him. He’s vexed at how vague you are, and how it is that he’s kept in the dark meanwhile you exude the air of someone who knows everything. He hastily fixes his face.

“And what do they make of it?”

You pause, thoughtfully mulling over your response and offering a new one in its place, “I don’t believe they make anything of it. Just that you are different.”

Tom doesn’t miss how you haven’t included yourself in that sentence, that he’s the different one. The truth of the matter is that you are the same as him, sharing more commonality with Tom—the special—than the other orphans, the ordinary.

“How long?” he inquired, “for a while now. Before the orphanage.”

His eyes widened at your response, “Then how?” Tom internally curses himself for being so invested in what you have to say, hanging onto every word with undeniable fascination, though it is arguably the most important thing he’ll hear for his entire stay at Wool’s Orphanage. There is much for young Riddle to think about now.

“It comes naturally, no? As easy as breathing.”

He was correct about it being an innate skill of sorts. Something that others could see but not do. Only he can attest, what you say is the truth and he knows it well, he could do it all with his eyes closed without having to lift a finger. But it had taken more time than he’d like to admit to hone in such otherworldly artistry, even if Tom was capable, governing this ability was its own endeavor. But you make it sound effortless—and it is for him, but somehow it’s simultaneously not the same. You two are not equals. He begins to wonder whether it is you or him who possesses the finer, sophisticated qualities of such power. The thought of it being you does not sit right with him, but it is aggravatingly the most sensical.

“Then is that all? Surely not…” Tom mumbles. He, more to himself than you, though it’s unlike him to voice such things aloud like this.

Tom loses himself to his thoughts, burning a hole into the floor. But it is insanity, the same queries over and over again, and no answer to help solve. Two irregularly erratic heartbeats later he snaps his head up, looking at you first. You’ve picked up your diary again, now far more intrigued with the leatherback that you held so possessively in your hands. But you’ve no fountain pen to inscribe with. It doesn’t seem to bother you though—Tom is starting to think that nothing does—you’re perfectly happy to just admire whatever has been written in its pages. It irked him to no end that you weren’t as inquisitive as he was, that you seemed indifferent with the otherwise riveting conversation. You were disengaged from the interaction but not inherently disrespectful seeing he was the one who stopped speaking. Tom could not find any reason to berate you for it, and that only bothered him more.

“Do you mind?” he snapped, eyes glaring at your diary when you refocused on him. “Are you going to sit there all lofty or are you going say something?”

You let out a breathy laugh, asking him, “Have you come here to waste my time, Tom?” Your voice was not malicious in the slightest, if anything, you seemed thoroughly amused. Your lips tugged at the sides, forming a faint but benevolent smile, a genuine one.

“No,” Tom quickly retorts through gritted teeth. To all hell with it—let his ego be damaged beyond repair; he begs the question, “what do you know? What do you know that I don’t?”

“I think the answer speaks for itself.”

Your eyes drop down to the diary in your lap, and Tom follows your gaze. Then suddenly, he feels like he has finally reached a rational conclusion. Whatever it is you’re keeping from him, whatever it is he does not know, and whatever it is he is looking for must be in there. You’d been telling him all along.

© 2025 emblematicae all rights reserved.

[shkura2011]

Spawn vs Bride

I decided to collect in one article a look at all these holy wars about the squabble over the ritual of turning the main character into a vampire, so that I don't have to remember everything I've dug up 15 times later. If someone doesn't agree, it's not my fault - I'm just expressing my opinion and not forcing it on anyone. If this offends/hurts you, etc., then that's your problem - I don't have the goal of humiliating, infringing, insulting or calling anyone a fool here. It's better to think at your leisure about why you're offended by the opinion of a passing crocodile in his own public page than to start a squabble on mine. We're done with the disclaimer, so I can write some scribbles.

Let me start from the beginning, actually. Where did these brides come from? There is a setting inside D&D called Ravenloft - a separate multiverse with domains of horror, where there is a rather large character like Strahd von Zarovich, he is also an ancient vampire and the ruler of Barovia. This whole topic with vampire brides and the ritual itself came from here, but the joke is that the Larians do not have the rights to this setting, so they can only shove references here into the BG3, which is what they do. This does not stop people and they still think that brides in the BG3 are canon. Why? Because of these references. At the same time, BG3 is slowly fitting into the canon of the 5th edition and there is no point in canonizing the brides there when they are already in DND in the form of a new ritual - the old one is still there and is not going to move.

How does the usual ritual of spawn transformation work in the case of Astarion and in D&D in general? The vampire bites the victim, drains it, buries it in a coffin and voila - the spawn is born. If you dry it and just throw it on the ground, it will just be a corpse, nothing more - it is important to bury it in a coffin and, so to speak, tie it to this very coffin - hence the coffin was standing at Kassador's ritual.

How is the bride created? The ancient vampire must drink blood from it for 3 nights, accumulating the "exhaustion" status on it and on the 3rd night, when the victim is on the verge of a coma, he lets the victim drink his blood for no more than 2 minutes (otherwise the bride will go crazy). A couple of hours later, the bride is born.

In fact, some kind of bullshit happens in the game, to be honest - they drink blood from us, they drain us, but no one shows us the coffin on the one hand. On the other hand, people cling to 3 bites in the ritual, forgetting that there should be not 3 bites, but 3 nights when they drink from you. The ritual itself occurs immediately after the ascension on the same night + you can refuse sex in the ritual and you will be bitten only 2 times, which is no longer according to the rules of the brides even in the form of a reference and does not change any dialogue in the game and does not change the status of the main character.

Inconsistency number 2: after the ritual, Astarion says that he gave us a drop of his blood to give us protection from the sun, which from the spawn side should make us free from his control, but this does not happen. There are several options:

He's lying and you didn't drink his blood - after the ritual you don't remember anything and he explains to you about the blood, but he lies a lot just so you don't yelp and are with him while he doesn't have complete control over you because of the tadpole, and so he says that he gave you a little and promises that he will give even more, but later when you get stronger - shows his care. There was no sign that you really drank his blood - everything was just his words

You did drink, but it's not enough - this is purely a guess because neither he nor anyone specified how much exactly the spawn needs to drink from the vampire to be freed, and he himself said that it was for protection from the sun, nothing more

The rule about voluntary feeding was fucked - to be freed, he must allow you to drink from him. Precisely "allow", as he himself said. This is mental bullshit that can be cancelled in the process itself and you kind of drank blood, but they did put a ban on you. Even if he allows you to drink, it won't tear him away from the idea that you are his. That is, in his head it doesn't sound like "you are free".

Shadowheart nuance - in her Justiciar branch there is a kiss with a bite of his own lip until it bleeds, but here you need to go through the origin and check, but most likely it also doesn't work at all

This inconsistency on the bride's part works differently - if you are the bride, then what's the point of calling us spawn? It raises unnecessary questions and puts him in a stupid position - the bride, by the same rules, will sooner or later find out that she is not controlled by the vampire like the spawns - she is free to leave at any moment when she finds out and all she needs to do is say "no" to his order once. He is not so stupid that his plan rests on one word - he is so afraid of losing us that he puts the question bluntly - either he controls us, or you break up. He will never call you spawn if you are the bride, which he himself says. In this case, it is more profitable to immediately train her and work in partnership than to wait for her to reveal this lie sooner or later. In addition, in the same epilogue, the issue of freedom can be raised and judging by his rection, in this case the main character is rebelling, but still with him.

There is an inconsistency at the level of Astarion - for the ritual, the vampire must be ancient, and not even a day has passed since his ritual and he can't even turn into a bat, what ancient vampire are we talking about here and how does he even know about this ritual?

There is also an argument about pleasure during the ritual, which sounds strange because when he himself drains us on the first bite in Act 1, there are words about pleasure there too, but he himself talks about turning us into a spawn as if it were only pain.

There was another argument in the new party banters in which he refuses Mintara to turn into a spawn, saying that his power is only for his beloved and supposedly this is drawn to the fact that the bride can only be 1 and nothing more. But Mintara meant to simply make her a vampire, not a bride, and Astarion himself already said that he despises those who want to become a vampire back in the palace of Cassador, that's why he refused her - she is disgusting to him.

There is an inconsistency at the bride level - you can run away from him to Avernus, to which he will say that it was not you who ran away from him, but he who let you go. There is a nuance here - you are running around Avernus, you have a pretty good chance of dying, and if you are a bride and you do die, it will damage him according to the same bride rules by 6d6 points of psychic damage, he will recover from this for a long time and after that he will not be able to create new brides for another 3d6 years. Actually, the question is - why would he take such risks? Even for the sake of the power that his bride will bring him, it would be wiser if he himself ran around with her there, and not she 1. Of course, there is a retcon of the dialogue here because the Larians did not immediately remember about this outcome, but nevertheless - he can return the spawn at any time by order, but he will have to look for a bride.

In the end, as for me, this whole topic with the bride is just a big reference to that ritual because they don't drink for 3 nights and you were given only a drop of blood, although it should be far from a drop and at the same time you can't get away from it. The Larians just decided to sit on 2 chairs, having made contradictions even with the spawn with this drop of blood and the absence of a coffin. The coffin is still okay, I can explain it with a shortened 3rd act and a desire to soften the whole trope (they did edit the kissing animations) - there is still a lot to saw and saw, but the question is about the blood because it is neither here nor there.

So to speak, write whatever you want in your heads because I myself have a bride, but according to the rules of this ritual from Ravenloft, and I am cutting off the game ritual. The only thing that bothers me is the lack of a normal description of the bride's powers, but this discussion is for another topic. If I remember anything else, I will add more.

Upd  after reading this post

https://www.tumblr.com/yeragei/775769565377511424/clearing-up-the-vampire-bride-theory

Here it is correctly noted about:

Weakening after the ritual of Astarion himself during the bride ritual - it is not there. 1 drop of blood is bullshit and it is not enough, as I already wrote above - he should be weakened by the loss of blood from this ritual, but it is normal for him.

I already wrote about 3 bites - before the ritual it was optional, so the ritual falls apart

Vampire age - Astarion is 239 according to the canon of the game and even then he was a spawn, and was a vampire for less than a day, which does not make him an ancient vampire - there it starts from 400 years. It also says that an ordinary vampire can do this, but the ascended one is not one. The argument works in both directions, but we were never explained about his status

There is no telepathic connection between the bride and Astarion - if she were in Avernus, they would not have problems with communication, but the dialogue denies this

[treeckos-for-arson]

my hot take of the day is that paul doesn’t not like musicals. i don’t know how it’s taken me 5+ years to come to this conclusion, but hear me out. i rewatched tgwdlm twice this weekend and my brain is vibrating on paul matthews frequency. my soul is one with his. my hypothesis wraps up everything that’s bothered me about paul’s character in a neat little bow: paul likes musicals, even if he doesn’t think he does.

the jokes have been circulating from the start, how paul knows the words to moana better than anyone else, how he has seen every musical mentioned in the show (he didn’t directly say he’s seen hamilton and mamma mia, but he at the very least knows the difference in the pop cultural relevance of the two). paul claims that he was forced to see godspell and brigadoon, but that doesn’t account for the other shows he’s seen, one of which he’s canonically watched enough times to know the words better than his coworkers/the average musical-hating ccrp employee.

i’ve heard speculation that paul goes to see every musical just to criticize it. but i don’t think that’s the case. i think paul has repressed his love of musicals. maybe he thinks he hates them, and thinks he watches them to critique them, but deep down he’s lying to himself and he knows it.

this is evidenced by “let it out,” specifically the lines: “i’ve become what i hated / or maybe i never did.” unlike the first verse, where there’s a clear distinction between the lines sung by paul vs pokey, i find it much more difficult to tell who’s singing in the second verse. i imagine this was an intentional acting choice on jon’s part, symbolizing that as pokey gets a firmer grip on paul he has access to more of his repressed memories, feelings, and desires. his words become more seamlessly infused with paul’s real thoughts. he identifies that paul has never hated musicals and makes him acknowledge it to himself and the audience.

so what caused paul to repress his love of musicals? he tells us directly—the moment that made him hate musicals was when he was bussed over to hatchetfield high to watch their production of brigadoon, because sycamore didn’t have a theater program. look, there is No Way that the entire student body of sycamore high was bussed over to see brigadoon: first, it would have been after school hours, and impossible (or at least a very strange thing) to make mandatory; second, the average high school production is, what, 2-4 nights? no way there would have been enough seats for all of sycamore; third, arranging the bus situation would have been far too inconvenient and expensive. i could go on, but my point is, going to see brigadoon was a voluntary action on high schooler!paul’s part. my guess is that it was only the students who actively wanted to be in a theater program who were taken to see brigadoon. that leads me to the conclusion: paul was an aspiring theater kid in high school, and you can’t tell me otherwise.

it was the experience of watching emma and the hatchetfield high kids perform brigadoon, longing to be onstage with them in the spotlight, and knowing he wasn’t going to get that opportunity in high school that made him start repressing his love of musicals. but (and i don’t have evidence for this, it’s just speculation) it’s post-high school, when he realized he was never going to get to be in a musical, that sealed that commitment to repression. whether he went to college and auditioned and didn’t get any roles for lack of practice, or joined the workforce and got his dream crushed out of him by the monotony of ccrp, paul distanced himself from the object of his desire by pretending that, actually, he never really wanted it. he pretended so hard he started to believe it. he began watching musicals “ironically.” he listened to the moana soundtrack because he “liked making fun of it.” he’d “rather do anything” than go watch mamma mia. he was “forced” to see godspell, and he “hated it.” godspell, more like god-awful, amirite?

(and don’t get me started on the little we see of him in black friday—what do you mean you don’t like those “musical commercials,” paul?? are you trying to say the kars 4 kids jingle is comparable to a full-length musical?? do you not listen to music at all, paul??? or are you overgeneralizing your hatred of musicals to cover your ass?? yet you can sing when you realize it’s possibly the final minutes of your life and there’s no hope to be found but in song? answer me paul. ANSWER ME.)

i’ve seen it hypothesized that pokey gives each character what they want before he kills them. paul is no exception. paul finally gets what he wants: to be in a musical. not just to be in a musical, but to play the leading role. to sing before an audience. to be the hero, sacrificing himself to save the day. i think it’s possible that, if ever paul genuinely stops liking musicals, it’s after pokey’s invasion begins. i mean, i certainly would stick to silent films for the rest of my life after getting caught up in that, so i don’t blame him. paul’s panic is visceral in every song sequence—but it’s not because he doesn’t like musicals, it’s for the obvious reason that Holy Fuck Something Is Wrong With These People Think About The Implications.

this has turned into an absolute essay, so tl;dr: paul likes musicals. if anything, paul loves musicals. paul was so broken by his inability to be in musicals as a kid that he made himself believe he hated them so all the missed opportunities would hurt less. all of the overexaggerated musical hating that we see on screen is overcompensation. he can fool the audience. he can fool himself. he can even fool me for 5+ years. but he can’t fool pokey.

[the-wine-dark-sea]

So, why Shostakovich?

That's what I wondered, watching Aziraphale in Maggie's record shop.

Shostakovich is a rather recent composer for Aziraphale to listen to - I mean, he regards Glenn Miller as modern. I would have expected him to get something that's a more obvious choice - maybe one of the composers Crowley mentions early in S1? That would have been a nice nod to that scene. Why Shostakovich? So I read up on the man, and then I understood.

Because Shostakovich was a Soviet-era composer, and came into conflict with the regime more than once.

In 1936, his career took a massive hit after a campaign against one of his works, because the music was viewed as "deliberately dissonant" - it didn't conform to some people's idea of of what Soviet music should be like. He did not strictly adher to their narrow ideals and felt the consequences. (And he was lucky. He had friends and family who were killed during the Great Terror, which started around that time.)

This forced him to try and adept and eventually his career recovered.

He was denounced again 12 years later, during a wider campaign against Western influences on Russian music. He had to apologize, many of his works were banned and he and his family lost privileges.

In 1960, Shostakovich made a controversial decision: He joined the Communist Party. It is unclear why he did this, whether it was fear, political pressure or indeed his own free choice - though reportedly he was in tears afterwards and told his wife about having been blackmailed.

So we have a composer whose work was repeatedly marked as non-conforming to the regime he lived under, not living up to some arbitrary, propagandistic standard, even after he tried to adapt his style. And we have an angel who never quite fit in with Heaven, whose approach to the world and his work were seen as silly at best, who was admonished for the way he used miracles and eventually declared a traitor.

We have a composer who, for one reason or another, ended up joining the party that had punished and humiliated him in the past. And we have an angel who ends up going back to Heaven.

I get why Shostakovich was an obvious choice, after all. What I can't get over is the implication that WE WERE TOLD AS EARLY AS EP 1 THAT AZIRAPHALE WOULD REJOIN HEAVEN!?? EVEN THOUGH IT WOULD MAKE HIM SUFFER AND MIGHT NOT BE AN ENTIRELY VOLUNTARY DECISION EITHER?? The audacity (I love it) to put that out there right from the start, for everyone to see who only cared to look, when none of us would be paying too much attention to it on the first watch.

[goldenflame-au]

idk if you've planned this far, but how do the three come about? any changes to their friend groups/love life?

Don't worry anon, I've got you covered — I'm all the way up to the broken code in plans >:3

The Three in this au are actually FawnHawk (LeafHawk / Leafpool and Hawkfrost) kits!!

There are a few changes here and there, but here's the main points that their heritage change involves:

• Since they aren't Crowfeather's kits, Crowfeather's relevance is mostly erased in this au. Breezepelt still exists, but he isn't related to the three in any way. (Harespring is actually the main Windclan focus here for... reasons... tehee.)

• For Jayfeather, not much changes! He is still blind. He originally is placed to be a Guide's apprentice (a new role that I introduced in this au, currently taken by Snowdrift, who is Snowkit in canon), but actually chooses to become a medicine cat rather than be forced into it like in canon. He is however still barred from being a warrior for that reason, but the med cat position is more voluntary and a reclamation of his own autonomy where the guide position for him takes the place of him being forced to be a medcat here. There's also no time travel shenanigans going on — Half Moon makes her own present day appearance as a follower of Midnight !

• Lionblaze is a Little Stupid. Since the three actually are related to Tigerstar in this au through Hawkfrost, he's trained in the Dark Forest from early on. Especially with his power still being that he can't be hurt — Tigerstar takes a lot of advantage of this. He tries to teach a lot of the things he taught Hawkfrost (mostly bigoted things, like that disabled members of the clan are just extra mouths to feed, that she-cats don't belong in positions of power, etc. Tigerstar here is very much misogynistic and overall just bigoted on everything way more overtly than in canon). And for a while, it works on Lionblaze, until he says something and makes a comment so overtly stupid that Hollyleaf and Jayfeather both talk some sense into him. He grows and learns and changes!

• Hollyleaf is a bit of an interesting case here. Because of Jayfeather's training jumping around, she's allowed to train as a medicine cat for much longer, even being close to receiving her full name when she's booted from the den so Jaypaw can be trained. She's bitter about it, but she understands her brother wanting to choose his own destiny — and she doesn't mind the life of a warrior, anyway. She falls in love with Cinderheart, and this causes a bit of a rift between her and Lionblaze(who likes Cinder aswell), which eventually causes the argument where Lionblaze says something so out of pocket about their relationship that Jay and Holly take him aside. Afterwards though, Lion becomes a lot more understanding and supportive, and a better ally to the both of of them!

• Before their secret is revealed (fire scene - which is also changed a lot), Hollyleaf and Cinderheart want to have kits — and after Lionblaze's change, they ask him to be the surrogate father for their kits. And he agrees happily because he only wants the best for his sister 🥺. But while Cinderheart is expecting, the fire scene happens, and Hollyleaf is presumed dead... so Lionblaze helps Cinderheart raise the kits in Hollyleaf's memory. (In this au, Hollytuft is so spoiled. It's a little ridiculous) They become adjacent to coparents to the kits, and make sure they always know of their late mother Hollyleaf, which makes it a more joyful reunion when Hollyleaf comes back to the clans in oots!!

• Hollyleaf doesn't die in the Great Battle in this AU — she leaves the clans impulsively after its conclusion. (The great battle is also extremely different.. ive yapped too much on this post though. starclan's behaviour in this au is for another time)

• In this au, Jayfeather is transneutral and aroacespec (he/it), Hollyleaf is a futch lesbian (she/her), and Lionblaze is ... cishet ....... umm......

• Additionally for context's sake, Cinderheart is genderfluid and bisexual (she/they) !!

Oh my gosh sorry for yapping so much LOL I'm just really particularly fond of the three in this au 😭😭😭😭💜💜💜 i hope you enjoy hearing about them regardless!!

[gayofthefae]

If El and Mike had kissed in the desert not only would it have been more romantic but it would have established that Will really is doing okay. It wouldn't have been out of character since he was fine when they kissed at the airport and it would have totally worked.

Mike and El kiss, it communicates to each other that they're okay and their relationship is taking priority over their fight - that the fight is to be dealt with later but right now they just want to hold each other and aren't in too unstable a place to do that.

Maybe she wanted to break up with him before he said ily but kissing him here communicates, similarly to Will hugging El instead of looking at Mike, where her priorities lie right now. He could even initiate it, that would make total sense. That gives her room later to have her reactions play as they do when she thinks he's not gonna say it when they're in the pizzeria because she didn't initiate it. Kisses can be communicative and in its own way, that could be the "I'm sorry" and "I love you" silently - actions vs words. She still needs the words, but it's something.

Even just for the audience, it's a hint that they'll be okay. They're still strong. They're coming out the other end of it. Their priority is staying together and this is just a fight. I keep drawing comparisons to Will and El's priorities this season but just like what I love about Will's use of "Mom" as a proper noun in their fight - there are aspects that aren't revokable. This similarly communicated that El loves herself now that she isn't dependent on Mike and has therefore moved past the idea of breaking up with him. That she will stay with him even if he needs time to say it, something that would soothe his insecurities and even then help him say it, I'm sure.

No have Will react exactly the same: all smiles, prioritizing El. Then, of course, cut him watching them later. He's seen them, he understands they're in a good place, that can speech was him letting go and now he's doing that. This isn't just a prioritization in the moment thing, it's a demonstration of him letting go. Have Jonathan initiate the conversation from having sat on it rather than from seeing Will sad OR show Will looking over more closely to how he did in the desert or how Steve looks at Robin and Vickie at the end - something more tender and less sad, like he's sad to lose him but happy with the joy he's brought - and have Jonathan mistake it from behind him and start the same conversation on coming out.

OR keep it in! Exactly as it is. But have Jonathan's words help that much more. Maybe he realizes Mike was just a side quest and what he really needed was to hear that from Jonathan and now that he has, he feels more fulfilled. Don't cut to him during Mike's speech. Or do and have him have a different reaction.

Them kissing telling Mike their relationship is safe also makes the speech more romantic by lowering the stakes and making it more voluntary.

There's more work to be done on it as we've covered before like El having a response, El waking up scene since that was Mike's only goal, etc., but see? It's not that hard.

Have them kiss and don't cut to Will sad on "hurt more". Now Will is beginning to move on after the painting/his talk with Jonathan and him encouraging Mike is an example of that after the demonstration of him being unfazed by their kiss regardless. Mike kisses El impulsively or communicatively, very similar visually to their airport reunion kiss, and El smiles as she does in the seen, making Mike feel more secure that she won't leave him either way and making the speech later feel more honest because there's one less reason he feels like he has to give it.

But that didn't happen. They didn't kiss and they tripled down on Will this not being Will moving on. The stakes remained high and Mike was still ambiguously forced into that position. It wasn't romantic.

The key to Byler is that it could have been.

[alasse-earfalas]

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is not a cult.

@christian-zelda, @screwtornadowarningsimsouthern

Someone sent me a link not too long ago to this article that supposedly lists all the ways in which the restored church of Jesus Christ is a cult. Having grown up in the church myself, I took a look at that article and essentially went,

"What the heck? We don't do that. We don't do any of that. Who the heck is saying we do this crap‽"

So, without further ado, let’s go over that BITE model and tick off all the lies, shall we?

I don’t even know what “regulating someone’s physical reality” means, so I’m going to skip this one.

No one’s ever told me who I can live with or associate with, and no one’s ever encouraged me to isolate. The closest it ever got to this was, “Hey, make sure you have good friends who respect your values.” And we’re encouraged to go out and be active in our communities, so there’s no “isolating” going on.

My sex life is between me and my husband. And no one told me to marry him, I was free to marry whoever I wanted. Abstinence until marriage wasn’t just encouraged at church, it was encouraged at my public high school, too (and, no, I didn’t grow up in Utah or somewhere with a high LDS population) because it’s just a good idea in general. That’s not “controlling”, that’s just teaching good values.

Guidelines are given, sure, but no one forces you to wear anything. School uniforms are more “controlling” in this sense than the church is.

Except for addictive substances such as alcohol and tobacco, members are free to eat and drink whatever they want. We teach that our bodies are gifts from God and are to be taken care of. As for fasting, that's typically done once a month, it's completely voluntary (nobody ever asks if you've been fasting or not), and if you can't fast from food for health reasons, you're completely free to fast from something else (a friend of mine will fast from certain types of media for a week, for example). Fasting is entirely between you and the Lord.

You mean the voluntary donations that are entirely on the honor system known as tithing? No one looks in our bank accounts to see whether or not we’ve paid tithing, heck bishops don’t even look at our donation history anymore. We just say whether or not we’ve paid a full tithe once a year and that’s it. It’s entirely on the honor system. Not even the other members know how much we have or haven’t donated.

Again, guidelines are given, but no one has ever restricted me in these areas. What is and isn’t “appropriate leisure or entertainment” varies wildly from person to person; my fellow LDSs and I all have different ideas on this.

Major time spent? You mean, once a week at church? Where we’re actively involved in a discussion for half the time we’re there, and the other half is the members teaching each other from the pulpit based on what they’ve learned from their own personal study? Where we’re encouraged to ask honest questions of the Lord in our own study? Uh-huh.

I never needed permission from anyone when making any decisions, be they “major” or not.

No they’re not. This just straight-up isn’t true. I don’t know where they even got this. Confession? That’s voluntary, and only applies to very serious sins. And even then, the bishop’s job is to help you on your journey back to the Savior. It’s a cry for help, not a punishment.

?????? The heck??? I don’t know where they got this either! No one’s “rewarded” or ”punished” me for anything in the church!

I was always taught to test out the truth of what was being taught for myself, to develop my own personal testimony rather than relying solely on the testimonies of others.

Guidelines. They’re called, guidelines. Nothing is enforced or imposed.

Dependency on and obedience to the Savior, sure. But not to anyone in the church.

What “information” are they referring to here? I’ve been a member of the church my whole life, I’ve gone through the temple, and I have yet to encounter any “hidden” or “distorted” or “withheld” information. Any attempt to “reveal the secret Mormon teachings” that I’ve seen has been either disingenuously taken out of context or is outright heresy, and not what we believe at all.

Sources outside of the church are discouraged because there are so many blatant lies (like this entire list) and misunderstandings out there. A lot of these “ex-mormon” and “anti-mormon” places are designed to create a faith crisis and then profit off of “helping” the person through the faith crisis. This letter explains their tactics, and why we’re cautioned to avoid them, far better than I could.

No one in the church controls what information I have access to. If I want to go look up anti-mormon stuff, I’m free to do that with no repercussions from anyone. I don’t know what the heck they’re on about the phone tracking nonsense, that just plain doesn’t happen.

Again, what the heck??? This doesn’t happen. None of this happens. Where are they getting this???? We have entire websites that are full of articles and documents and scriptures and sermons and everything! All of it, all of our doctrines and policies and history and everything is free for anyone, in or outside of the church, to comb through. It’s not “hidden” from anyone.

None. Of. This. Happens. This is a blatant lie.

Idk about the misquoting thing, but we do have lots of freely available church media for anyone to take a gander at.

As I mentioned before, confession is meant to be a cry for help, not a punishment. Any bishop or other church leader who treats it like a punishment is a bad bishop. I know these bad bishops exist (I've seen one mishandle a situation so poorly that it lead to the suicide of a family member), but by and large, the bishops I’ve dealt with have at least tried to be compassionate and understanding. The best ones always focus on, “How can you improve your relationship with the Savior?” And that is how it’s supposed to be.

The key word here is “require”. That implies some kind of punishment or consequence for not doing the thing required, and that is not the case. As I mentioned before, we are encouraged to gain our own testimony of the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but there’s no punishment if we’re still questioning or unsure, or heck even against!

Also, there’s no “us vs them” mentality taught in our doctrine. We preach that all human beings are brothers and sisters in spirit and invite all to come unto Christ.

I. Wha. Huh???? Where are they getting this?? This doesn’t happen, at all! The church doesn’t change your name or your identity. Another lie.

[points to the volumes of incredibly diverse and verbose conference talks over the decades] Uh. Huh.

I’m not sure what they mean by “good and proper”. As far as “encouraging only” certain types of thoughts, good ol’ CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) is more demanding in that regard than what we preach. I will also note that mental health awareness has increased a great deal in the church over the past decade or so.

Well praying is how we commune with God, and singing a hymn can be like a prayer, but we don’t teach people to do these things in order to “shut down reality testing”. If I can get a little bit personal here, I’ve used prayers to test God before, and He came through for me. So if anything, prayer absolutely can be used as a way to test the reality and truth of the gospel, not to shut down such questions.

[laughs in how backwards this is] Uh-huh, from the people who constantly lie about us rather than engaging with us in fair conversation.

[sighs] It really depends on the circle. I’ve watched members online get really divided over this and it irritates me every time. Our leaders are not infallible and the scriptures constantly invite us to “ask, seek, knock”. Honest questions from a sincere desire to know and follow the truth are good.

We believe that truth can be found in many places, and there are many instances of our church working with other faiths to accomplish good things.

The heck is a “map of reality”? I’m skipping this one.

I want to make a note here of how completely and utterly done I am with these lies by now. So far, almost none of these claims have been even remotely true. I’ve even stepped away from working on this post for about a week, and I just opened it again and immediately felt drained.

Imagine if someone started spreading lies about your friends or family (assuming you have a good relationship with them) secretly being cannibals, or drug lords, or human traffickers. And watching as people believe those lies and plead with you to get out of that “awful situation”, and then refuse to believe you when you try to tell them that what they’ve heard are lies. That’s what this feels like.

Anyway, let’s see if I can’t finish going through this list.

None that Jesus Himself didn’t caution against. We’re taught to be mindful of our thoughts and emotions because of what they can become, not because they’re “sinful” in and of themselves. Again, similar concepts are taught in good ol’ therapeutic CBT.

I’ve certainly never been taught any.

I’ve seen this attitude in shades, and it’s really frustrating ‘cause it’s not founded in scripture. I recently had a really good vent session with a fellow LDS friend about this. Sadly, members of our faith will often try to “help” by trying to figure out what you’re doing wrong. (I don’t think this is a uniquely LDS thing, to be clear; I think it’s a human nature thing.) The reality is, no one can fully understand or comprehend the full wisdom of God. Job didn’t know why such terrible things were happening to him, and Abraham didn’t know why God would ask him to do something so barbaric and pagan as sacrificing his own son. We don’t know why God seems to answer the prayers of some and not others. But a lot of people forget that and end up making things worse when they’re trying to help.

I’ve heard of certain congregations having attitudes like this, and even a bishop (same bad one I mentioned earlier), but by and large this is not the attitude I’ve seen from members or leaders. Even when discussing serious sins, the response I most often see is one of compassion, encouragement, and hope.

There was an entire General Conference talk about this recently (April 2024). Of note:

“The intent of the Father’s great plan of happiness is your happiness, right here, right now, and in the eternities. It is not to prevent your happiness and cause you instead worry and fear. The intent of the Father’s plan of redemption is in fact your redemption, your being rescued through the sufferings and death of Jesus Christ, freed from the captivity of sin and death. It is not to leave you as you are.” - Elder Patrick Kearon, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles

I have seen neither of these extremes from the church. (I have, however, seen both from my abusive mother, so I know what this looks like and what it doesn’t look like.) Congregations can vary wildly on how friendly and helpful they are to each other, but the nicest ones typically stay nice, genuinely kind and charitable, none of this “declaring you a horrible sinner” nonsense.

Confession has already been addressed. It is neither ritualistic, nor public. You sit down with your bishop in his office and have a private chat about drawing closer to Christ. That’s it.

We beckon people to “come and see”, and to stay, but there’s no “you’re going to hell if you leave!!” or anything of the sort. We’re taught to love everyone as the Savior commanded, whether they’re members of our church or not.

Aaaand we’re ending with another blatant lie.

So there you have it, the knee-jerk reaction of a lifelong member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to the false and slanderous claims about the church somehow being a cult.

If you want something that’s more in-depth and thoughtful (sorry I couldn’t provide that here; I tried to initially, but my brain revolted, so I did this instead), please check out the Light and Truth Letter. It goes over a vast range of topics from someone who grew up in the church, left for about a decade, and eventually found his way back. It’s a beautiful and insightful read.

[dailyanarchistposts]

How can I be an effective leader (in a non-hierarchical, anti-authoritarian sense)?

As an additional question, does anybody know whether there’s been any writing done on the subject? If so, links? Obviously, we as anarchists oppose leadership in the form of authority and hierarchies. However, I’ve read some things remarking on the organic emergence of “leaders” in anarchist groups, in the form of people who are the most experienced, the most confident, and/or the most capable of taking action. I’ve also seen proposed something akin to “if you must take the role of a leader, do so only for as long as it takes to share your knowledge and experience with those around you”. A leader who encourages others to knock her off her pedestal, so to speak. Basically, what I’ve run into is that a large portion of my friends are either into anarchism or consider themselves anarchists (after being exposed to it, through hanging around me), but don’t have the knowledge/experience/initiative to be confident in working on projects. I really want to share what I’ve got, but honestly I don’t have a lot of experience with “leadership” and instilling confidence and inspiring action. Maybe this is something totally out of my hands and it’s just a matter of waiting for them to find their own initiative and desire to act, but I really feel like what I’ve done thus far is equivalent to saying, “Here’s what anarchism is—if you agree with it, cool. We should do something about it.” And that doesn’t seem like enough.

alc

Time for an epic response; thanks for giving me an incentive to write it out.

Concepts:

A. Guide: a leader who persuades by example and suggestion, based on experience or informed speculation (expressed as such). Practices voluntary relationships. Legitimate.

B. Master: a leader who manipulates through duress or deceit, based on experience or misinformed speculation (often concealed). Practices coercive relationships. Illegitimate.

In my opinion, legitimate leadership requires at least 13 conditions:

Active Choice followers actively and voluntarily decide their roles with informed consent, constantly re-evaluate

Anarchistic Skepticism the burden of justification rests on guides rather than followers

Contextual Merit guides proficient in a specific context

Egalitarian Integrity absence of force and fraud in interactions

Egalitarian Purpose no compensation requested beyond effort ex-pended or direct need; guides and followers live in the same material conditions

Empowering Trajectory concrete processes for empowering followers, sharing information or materials, rotating roles, decentralizing agency, and rendering further guidance unnecessary

Finite Duration guidance duration directly linked to mutually-agreed upon goal(s)

Immediate Recall the followers’ ability to immediately revoke status of guide(s)

Radical Accountability guides redress force, fraud, failure

Radical Transparency honest and empowering explanations of guides’ logic and aims

Responsible Teaching guides want responsibility to followers rather than power over them

Social Leveling the followers thwart guides’ senses of entitlement, arrogance, & contempt

Stakeholder Accessibility the inclusion of all parties deserving agency, based on expressed or implied need

Gently, she grasps her tender lover’s unpracticed cheek.

They brush faces, touch lips. She guides with her affection, encouraging learning in the most compassionate of ways. As their intimacy grows, they reach a balance together, her inexperienced partner becomes a competent lover. And even with all of her practice, she could not help but have her own learning stimulated. Now they walk their path hand-in-hand; neither guides, neither follows.

He remembers his early youth, when his elders taught him to walk in the forest and gather his nourishment. He remembers their confidence, his apprehension, as he first stepped into the bush, nervous, with them. But now he often walks under the pale light of the moon, fetching the acorns, with only his memories keeping him company.

Soon he will teach his little ones to become sons of the leadership oaks, the cycle starting afresh.

Leadership would emerge naturally among the members of a society, very much as it does among children, and confine itself to taking initiatives only when individual ones are impractical. The followers should be the ones to decide whom they will follow and should be free to change leaders as suits their convenience. In a continuum culture like that of the Yequana, the functioning of leaders is minimal and it is possible for any individual to decide not to act on the leader’s decision if he prefers...

Immunization to Authoritarianism

If we want to live without rulers, we need empowerment to immunize us from the threat of authoritarian relationships and defeat the potential pitfalls of leadership.. In order for that to happen, we need to understand the psychology of perception and prejudice, creativity, intelligence, learning, logic and fallacies, intuition, critical thinking, argumentation, problem-solving, planning, systems analysis, and risk management. Those of us who know these things (such as myself) would do well to act as guides and share our knowledge. So here goes:

psychology (self-actualization processes; cognitive biases; psychological heuristics)

prejudice (cognitive, affective, and behavioral prejudices)

creativity (imagination; inspiration; intuition)

increasing intelligence (“seek novelty; challenge yourself; think creatively; do things the hard way; network”)

increasing learning (working memory; attention)

logic (formal vs informal; inductive vs deductive)

reason (logic) vs intuition (instincts, associations)

logical fallacies (search: “Critical Thinking as an Anarchist Weapon”)

awareness of disinformation techniques

critical thinking as “the process of purposeful, self-regulatory judg-ment, which uses reasoned consideration to evidence, context, conceptualizations, methods, and criteria.”

critical thinking components (skepticism; logic; clarity; credibility; accuracy; precision; relevance; depth; breadth; significance; fair-ness)

critical thinking requirements “falsifiability, logic, comprehensiveness, honesty, replicability, sufficiency” “humility, integrity, courage, autonomy” “follow through, open-mindedness, foresight, attention, inquisitiveness, thoroughness, fair-mindedness”

willingness to criticize oneself “Critical thinking clarifies goals, examines assumptions, discerns hidden values, evaluates evidence, accomplishes actions, and assesses conclusions.”

argument mapping (contentions, premises, co-premises, objections, rebuttals, lemmas)

problem-solving (techniques & methodologies; brainstorming; collaboration; networking)

lateral thinking (idea-generating tools; altering focus; selection; application)

planning principles (PsyBlog goal hacks: stop fantasizing; start committing; start starting; visualize process not outcome; avoid the what-the-hell-effect; sidestep procrastination; shifting task-or-goal focus; reject robotic behavior; focus on the aim not the goal; know when to stop; if-then plans; verbal-ization & visualization of processes; contrast positive fantasy/indulging with negative reality/dwelling)

planning methodologies (STOP, OODA loops; SWOT analysis; PDCA cycles; flow charts)

working backwards (goal; strategy; tactics; time-frames; deadlines; review)

systems analysis (complexity; emergence; fragil-ity/resilience; systempunkts; schwerpunkts)

risk management (risks; threats; vulnerability; mitigation)

TL;DR–Skeptical of Guides, Hostile to Masters, Deliberate as Fuck, Destroy Power Through Collective Self-Empowerment, Tell Everyone.

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Two more things...

One text that was interesting to me (despite her reputation) was Starhawk’s book on group dynamics and structure (Truth or Dare). It encouraged me to think about the different roles that people play, how they can be played well, and how many (all?) of them have a place in a happy group.

Which leads to the point that being a leader (good or bad) requires participation from the group. To some extent we all are at the mercy of our friends and context (ie part of the problem with how we view leaders is the idea that “a good leader can overcome things on their own”). I have been in many a group that defused a power play, made a comment into a joke (or refused a joke and made it into a comment), etc without even noticing what was happening. When the topic of leaders arises, the context that the individual operates within is not given enough credit for leadership what happens.

The example given by the question seems to be one of commitment, that people are afraid or unwilling to act (which can be for a number of different reasons), and I think that sometimes leaders are merely the people who are willing to do something even if it means they might be wrong (or be seen as wrong).