#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

[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.

[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.

[gogotti]

Michael Myers with a very smiley/happy s/o

I had a dream that I was being very smiley with him so that’s where this comes from :)

He doesn’t know why you’re so happy but good for you I guess?

Whenever you see him, whether he’s covered in blood or fresh out of the shower you forced him in, you have this big smile on your face

At first it was very infuriating, he’s here to kill you why are you smiling at him?

He’s trapped you in a corner, knife at your throat and, even though it’s a nervous smile as you bargain for your life, it’s still a smile and he hates it

He would only come back to attempt to scare this shit out of you and permanently wipe the smile off of your face

But you had other plans.

When he’d arrive the next time you’d have leftovers on the table for him and a little note with, you guessed it, a smiley face

He would throw the note to the side somewhere and scarf down the food you made, because dead animals aren’t cutting it anymore ya know?

As he decided you were worth keeping, at least for a little bit, he could see you out the corner of his eye, smiling at your perceived success

He would still attempt getting you to stop, and strangely you persevered

Until one night he found you curled in a ball on your bed, having a very bad day

He would approach you loudly, and you would turn to face him, sprawled out and a miserable look on your face

You would mumble a weak, “just kill me already”

And he wouldn’t

He would stare, now mad at you for the lack of smile that he expected from you

How dare you be sad?

All he knew was that smile, why would you take that from him?

He wouldn’t know what to do with you though and he’d just leave, stomping out of your room in anger

The next day he’d come back to you sitting in the kitchen, picking at your plate of food with his leftovers at the other end of the table

He would stare at you the entire time you ate, a smile on your face again

“Hey, sorry for that yesterday, I had a pretty stressful day at work and…”

He would watch your smile fade, but you’d quickly fix it

He didn’t like that smile. He hated it.

He knew it was forced, and he stared daggers at you until you dropped it again.

“I know you don’t care about my day, but… I need someone to chat with. You think you could listen for a little bit?”

He was used to sitting and listening, that’s all he ever did in smiths grove, so he sat and listened, watching you as you went through the evens of your day, and getting up and replacing the food on his plate whenever he ran out

(you just wanted him to stay still and you assumed food was the only way to do that)

He didn’t know how long he had listened (and ate) but he was very satisfied with the large smile that formed on your face after you had gotten past the bad and talked about the good

When you were done you stared at him, letting out a “Thanks for listening.” after a while of just looking.

He huffed, got up and crashed on your couch. You just tossed a blanket over him and called it a night.

Next morning you were making breakfast, smiling and humming a tune and he couldn’t help but watch in amusement

Now he can prevent those nights spent crying, though at first it wasn’t voluntary, you would just plop down in front if him and vent

As time went on you would get closer and he’d allow you to lean on him, until you just ploped down in his lap and laid there, not a word exiting your mouth

After a while you looked up at him and smiled, “I missed you, that’s all.”

He looked away, embarrassed, and he’d rather die than let you know you flustered him so instead, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, not letting you get up

That was until you bribed him with dinner

When he finally would take off the mask you would see the look in his eyes when he’d catch you singing

Or when he’d sneak behind you while you were cooking, only to attempt to steal some of the food you were preparing

You didn’t know exactly but you would assume the look he’d give you, his brows relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he watched, was one of admiration

He’d never tell you that you’re right, but he’d watch the smile on your face grow when he’d lean over and kiss your forehead

[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.

[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.

[mariacallous]

When U.S. President-elect Donald Trump was first elected in November 2016, many European countries rallied around German Chancellor Angela Merkel as the new leader of the free world. This time around, they will have to look somewhere else: The three-party coalition in Berlin under Chancellor Olaf Scholz has just collapsed after the Free Democrats—a small pro-business party—rebelled on the economic direction of the country.

The timing seems terrible after Trump’s reelection just the day before, which threatens to throw Europe and Germany into an era of instability. In reality, however, the crisis in Berlin could prove to be good news. The coalition of Scholz’s Social Democrats, Greens, and Free Democrats was the most dysfunctional, dithering, and divided German government in decades. The members of the coalition actively worked against one another on European Union affairs, Ukraine aid, China policy, and economic reform. With Trump returning to the White House, Germany and Europe cannot afford near-total paralysis in Berlin.

After the 2021 national election in Germany, the three parties declared “a new beginning” to break the reform stagnation of the Merkel era. Then, after Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, they promised a reckoning with Germany’s old business model, which had depended on Russia for cheap gas, China for growing exports and investment, and the United States for military protection.

Two years on, even the rosiest of optimists would struggle to see the glass of change as even half full. Rather than step up as a leader of Europe and the West, the coalition abdicated leadership in Europe, avoided pressing strategic decisions, and pursued narrow national interests first. On Ukraine, Germany can scrape together a passing record at best. Yes, it has been one of the biggest donors, leads in commitments for heavy weapons deliveries, ranks second in total aid to Ukraine after the United States (although only 15th by aid as a percentage of GDP), and has accepted the most voluntary Ukrainian refugees of any country.

However, Germany has no strategic focus or sense of urgency. Going against his coalition partners and contrary to his own claims of being in lockstep with allies, Scholz has continued to prohibit the delivery of German-made Taurus missiles, even after Britain, France, and the United States delivered their own long-range strike missiles. And support for Ukraine has been cut and deprioritized in the 2025 federal budget, with the German government disingenuously declaring that loans backed by the interest earned by frozen Russian assets would offset the cuts. This clever use of Russian assets was supposed to expand Western aid, not replace it.

For its own defense spending, Germany finally reached NATO’s minimum of 2 percent of GDP this year, but the special off-budget fund created to boost spending to this level will run out in 2027. How Berlin intends to finance defense in 2028 and beyond is entirely unclear; the coalition simply kicked that can down the road. Social Democratic Defense Minister Boris Pistorius—the most popular politician in Germany, which is why the unpopular Scholz has largely sidelined him—said that the 2025 budget does not provide the necessary funds to cover increased personnel costs, much less to invest in new capabilities. Germany’s discussion about restoring conscription to its depleted forces led nowhere beyond a voluntary option. Far from becoming a leading security player and the “best-equipped armed force” in Europe, as Scholz promised, Germany looks to be continuing business as usual.

In Europe, the Scholz government has been seen as the most unilateral, inward-looking, and uncooperative German leadership in a long time. Not only did Berlin unilaterally reintroduce border controls in a panicked reaction to right-wing populists surging in opinion polls following a series of violent attacks involving migrants, but the German government’s representatives at the European Union were also increasingly abstaining from votes because the coalition’s three parties had no unified position.

Broader European interests seemed completely absent from German calculations; for example, when Germany joined Hungary, Malta, Slovakia, and Slovenia to vote against imposing tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles. And Free Democrat Finance Minister Christian Lindner, whom Scholz fired on Nov. 6, was the first to say “no” to former European Central Bank President Mario Draghi’s proposal to increase European competitiveness with large-scale investments financed through joint debt.

With early elections expected by the end of March, it will be a new opportunity for Germany to assert leadership on these strategic issues. If a vote were held today, the most likely result would be a grand coalition of the right-of-center Christian Democrats and the left-of-center Social Democrats—with the former coming out on top and thus providing the chancellor. They collectively poll at about 48 percent of the vote. When Merkel, a Christian Democrat, was the chancellor, she ruled under this constellation for 12 of her 16 years in power, and although this time was marred by perceptions of inertia, a change of chancellorship could bring new strength to Germany’s foreign policy.

Friedrich Merz, the Christian Democrats’ party chairman and likely chancellor of a grand coalition, would finally achieve his life goal after having been pushed out from politics by Merkel two decades ago. On security, Merz has already signaled that he is more forward-leaning on Ukraine than Scholz. He publicly challenged Scholz to deliver Russian President Vladimir Putin an ultimatum: Stop attacking Ukrainian civilian infrastructure within 24 hours, or Germany will deliver Taurus missiles. Although Merz would need to follow up his rhetoric with action if and when he actually moves into government, a grand coalition could also provide new fiscal flexibility to underwrite defense spending and aid to Ukraine, since both parties could agree to loosen Germany’s fiscal restrictions, which Lindner and the Free Democrats opposed.

This would be the kind of leadership that Germany’s European partners have waited for since 2022, when Scholz proclaimed a Zeitenwende—or new era—in security and defense without ever following up. And that kind of leadership will be indispensable with war raging in Europe and Trump in the White House for a second term.

[ansbobcar]

I MADE KALDO HEADCANONS

This is part of my fanon lore. Suck it up peeps. And because it's with my fanon lore, there will be GEHENNA FAMILY LORE with my oc's DAD???

Also I kinda got obsessed with his pre-cursor twin? Jouno the man you are that soulmate oneshot messed up my brain lol

_ _ _

SO, I made a headcanon a while back that Kaldo's got like heightenned senses. Now, considering the fact he doesn't like use his eyes often (the mashle stage play made them red, idk anything about red and physics except it's like the longest wavelength?) I'd like to think he's a bit like Gojo!

What does that mean?

While Kaldo's senses are heightened, his eyes have the most sensitivity, especially in regards to magic. As a kid, he kinda burned them from looking at the sun for too long.

So why doesn't he wear special glasses or contacts?

The answer is simple: his dad just decided that he could make up for it with his other senses.

Additionally, it's to avoid his former classmate and retired colleague's personal magic at full-force. That former classmate of his father's is Sears Onoji, the former now retired Chief of Magic Police.

What's so bad about Sears Onoji?

"His magic violates your soul, memories and senses. A perfect balance of torture, extraction and submission. Perfect for his duties. He was promoted to Chief of Magic Police a few years after I became Divine Visionary after all." "Could you imagine? Having your entire motivations, weaknesses and strengths, extracted from a simple hallucination or nightmare?" "Now amplify that once a day, or even twice a day. Who wouldn't break?" "5 minutes is all it takes."

Sears Onoji's personal magic is called Fears. It's base spell temporarily paralyzes his target in fear and renders them in a nightmare/hallucination. He is able to extract memories or rather, valuable information regarding his target within less than 5 minutes depending on the accessibility of the memory simply by locking eyes with someone. (No time lag.) The base spell is only able to have 1 target but it's incredibly potent.

Due to Mr. Onoji's incredibly versatile personal magic, he became the Head Warden for the ultra secure prison 'Hecatrice' for a few years after stepping down as Chief of Magic Police. The inmates there are known for being clinically insane, mad, and beyond control with their magic but following his involvement, the prisoners became quiet and more docile, fearful. Shells of their former selves.

His stupid nickname back in their school days was 'Mr Fear'. And it still applies to the present. For this reason, Kaldo's told to be weary of them.

The Gehenna's counter for Fears

Fears requires eye contact between the person and target, as a result, a lack of eye contact from either party will not fulfill the requirements.

Initially, Kaldo's father had planned for him to get used to being blind at a much later age before his eyes got burned on accident since it will be inevitable to encounter the Onoji family at the Bureau.

But due to the accident, Kaldo's complete training (magic, physical, blind) was executed much earlier and has naturally gotten used to not using his eyes. He only does so briefly in daytime and becomes more accustomed to using his eyes during the night but not completely.

As a result, Kaldo's immune to the effects of Fears and information gathering from the strongest member of the Onoji family.

The other members of the Gehenna family are slowly attempting to get used to the voluntary removal of sight but have a harder time doing so and prefer avoiding the Onojis completely instead, unlike himself and his father. This culminates in the Gehennas completely avoiding attending gatherings which involve them, especially Masquerade related ones.

[theladythatdreamsinanimation]

My ol’ shipper lurker ass is looking for Peach x Bowser fics with them marrying voluntary rather than forced. 

As much as I like the idea that Peach already liked him and starts seeing him on the lowdown through the kidnappings, the only way I see Peach and Bowser marrying is through protecting her kingdom with a few critical core conditions that will have to happen before she puts a ring on it. 

There’s no set timeline in Mario so it could possibly be either a few or at least over 10 years of Bowser giving the Mushroom Kingdom grief over Peach. That’s a lot of time for a kingdom to be regularly attacked by the same invader and all the kingdom has for any real defense is just two human Italian plumbers? 

One day Mario and Luigi are gonna get too old to be the sole defense of the Mushroom Kingdom and with Junior being brought up to take up his father’s goal to bring down the Mushroom Kingdom, there’s no way that set-up is gonna last. That’s two and possibly multiple generations of attacks the Mushroom Kingdom will have to endure all for what? Because Peach wants her freedom to do whatever she wants?

She’s a ruler and a politician foremost. 

As much as it’s all feel-good and girl boss, her position doesn’t give her that level of luxury of freedom at all and she’s the only surviving member of her royal family. Her choices are literally putting her entire kingdom at great risk. If the Mario brothers weren’t there, the Mushroom Kingdom would have been done a long time ago. 

As the movie showed, if she fought against the Koopa Kingdom on her own, she would only lose as the Koopa Kingdom is too powerful and technologically advanced with near endless soldiers. The only practical way to keep her kingdom intact was to marry Bowser and with how much of a simp he is for her, she would have been able to have him wrapped around her little finger even if he is mentally damaged with a hair trigger volatile temper and whiplash mood swings.

And most important of all, she would have been able to mold Junior into a better and more mentally sound and balanced person and be less evil than his dad. It’s already known that Junior’s only being evil to appease and be close to his dad but being a tyrant is not what Junior really wants. If Peach was his stepmother, she would have opened his mind to owning the want of being a hero despite how Bowser and Kamek are bringing him up. 

As long as Junior stays a villain and keeps that door closed, being a tyrannical villain will be the only life he will know. God forbid if Bowser dies due to Mario and co. while he’s still young cause then that door is torched for good cause Junior love him some Dad and will make good on any wishes Bowser wants done. 

TL;DR: I wanna see FigmentForms,“A Tale of Two Rulers” with a Powser spin. 

Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, asking for waaaay too much from a fic. If I had time to make this fanfic, I already would have but I don’t. 

So I guess this is a challenge to any fanfic writers out there that think they can do it.

[fancifulplaguerat]

I have gathered my Maria and Nina thoughts, which unfortunately necessitated understanding the Kains’ fuckery, as Maria and Nina appear exemplary of the Kains’ practice of reincarnation and function of Memory and Focus. Particularly how Maria held Nina’s Memory in her own Focus but had to relinquish her soul to become a Mistress.

Maria claims outright, “My Focus, however, is dedicated to my mother,” and that “I can barely hold on to the memory of my mother… Two women are living in me now. […] Soon my father will take her away from me. Forever. […] My mother has found her ultimate shelter in my heart. I am the only one who still loves her and remembers her.” Grief and remembrance are associated with Foci, which can hold the Memory with which the Kains deal. Andrey even juxtaposes Maria’s grief with the implication that grief facilitated Peter’s success in creating a physical Focus (Polyhedron):

Andrey Stamatin: The Polyhedron is a mirror that preserves the reflection of the person that has looked into it the last. You know, when Nina died, Maria said she may never be able to cope with the grief… she started to pine away. That is when Focus was created [by Peter]. I don’t know how he managed to do it. I think that’s because he loved Nina so much. Anyway—he ended up creating a space she could inhabit. Can you imagine? You come into a room and can definitely feel that she’s there—as if you've simply turned away from her for a second... And you can talk to her.

This information is ordered as though Peter created the Focus because of Maria’s mourning, but it’s his love for Nina. Thus perhaps Peter and Maria created and dedicated respective Foci after Nina’s death on account of their pain. Perhaps Nina could reside in two Foci simultaneously because the Polyhedron reflects the soul, which does not appear synonymous with Memory. Georgiy says: “the dead linger inside us—their living counterparts […] the dead may be brought back to life by the focussed emotions of the living. It’s ludicrous how people picture a soul as an ethereal imitation of whoever it belonged to. It doesn’t even occur to them that a soul is more resemblant of music […] The more subtle a soul, the harder it is to retain it and reproduce it. It would require very special instruments.” Foci predate the Polyhedron, so it seems possible that Maria holds Nina’s Memory while the Polyhedron reflects it, but both are able to “focus” her soul enough to retain and thus reproduce it to varying extents. 

This may clarify Victor’s insistence that if the children do not leave the Polyhedron, “Maria could die. And my and Georgiy’s passing… would also be in vain. […] Because she will then be forced to become my successor. To take up what I currently guard and thus condemn herself to death, and our family to extinction. Maria will die—and the wondrous spirit whose memory we have so carefully passed on, will vanish into nothingness.” That ‘wondrous spirit’ likely references Simon—presumably he will vanish without the Polyhedron because no one living remembers him (Simon’s soul, not Simon); i.e. he has neither a living counterpart nor reflection capable of preserving his memory and accordingly his soul. As for Nina: how does this potentially enact Maria’s death?

My speculation is that it lies in the Kains’ method of reincarnation, which concerns “reproducing” rather than “retaining” the soul. Georgiy seemingly explains it through Eva’s death: “If someone decides to die so that someone else can live—their death will be imminent. There’s nothing to be done about it, for such sacrifice has consequences of immense magnitude,” which mirrors Victor saying, “You can’t even begin to imagine the immense power of voluntary self-sacrifice. Don’t you know there’ve been examples in history where someone living would give their life so that someone deceased could spent a little more time with their loved ones?” Kain reincarnation apparently functions through willing self-sacrifice of one’s life for another, and this seemingly reproduces the soul in another body. This explains why Maria managed to focus Nina’s soul and maintain her identity; even Victor seemingly did for a spell, given “To take up what I currently guard” and his voice line, “I’m strong enough to hold her indefinitely. Until Maria comes into power. But how long can Georgiy cling to Simon’s Memory?” This only becomes a death sentence when Victor and Georgiy decide to sacrifice themselves for Nina and Simon to temporarily live again. 

Concerning Maria’s death, perhaps by that time Maria could not merely retain Nina’s memory anymore, but would likewise be forced to reproduce it. As for the Kains’ extinction, it appears that Maria alone can accomplish the Kains’ objectives by ending the plague and founding a new utopia. Maria alludes to her role to Daniil: “I am a miserable woman, en-Daniil. You are the only person I will confess this to. I am a woman of power. A princess with an unbearable burden upon her shoulders—and no one to share it with… This weight is about to break me. Forever.” This ‘burden’ appears delineated when Maria says, “So if a miracle happens—if those who must remain alive by my design are still alive by tomorrow—if the merciless Powers That Be disregard us, they they used to; then we will be able to context the ruthless law of existence. The dream will prevail. There will be a new utopia.” The ‘ruthless law of existence’ presumably being the plague. Maria later says, “Don’t you see that this is my town now? I am the power here. I am the mother, and since I am to give birth to a new town, I want to witness the demise of the old one. This is my duty. I am the Last of the Kains.” Simon also says, “Maria will overpower the pestilence and restore the city.” The weight on Maria’s shoulders, then, does not seem confined to succeeding Nina; rather, to realize her family’s aims before their deaths, as “perishing, burning down, dissolving without a trace” is the Kains’ fate. 

Maria must succeed Nina for this, which is likely why she relinquishes Nina’s soul to Victor—to allow Nina to transfer her power to Maria. Maria says, “Soon I shall close my eyes… for several days… and then there will be a different me… a very different me… for now it’s Father who’s holding the scarlet lava in his chest—the lava that is to fill me to the brim… it will burn him… but oh how beautiful it is!” Similarly: “Tell [Peter] that I am turning into a Mistress. Tell him I can feel the scarlet lava. Tell him I am ready to accept it into my womb… Tell him my mother is looking at me now… I shall become her, I shall overcome her.” She finally tells Artemy, “You ought to know that in a matter of a few days my power will grow to its fullness, and I will reclaim all of the scintillae of magic now scattered across the Memory of my dear mother.” Fire is evidently allegorical to Maria/Nina’s power, and Artemy’s dialogue seemingly makes it literal that Maria is inheriting Nina’s abilities through the Memory which constitutes her soul. Maybe this is likewise implied in “I will become her;” though that could obviously just mean Maria ‘becomes’ Nina insofar as she does the Scarlet Mistress. Regardless, it seems Nina’s soul cannot remain intact for Maria to claim her full inherence, considering Victor claims that once Maria becomes a Mistress, “I don’t think she will ever talk to her mother again.”

I want to diverge a moment to examine how Maria is framed vis-à-vis her ascension/role as the last of the Kains. Katerina tells Clara, “I feel that the Kains’ plot was conceived in a different mind. It all comes from Maria.” Similarly, when Maria tells Artemy that she admires Georgiy’s sacrifice for Simon, Artemy replies, “The twinkle in your eye betrays the truth. You made him do it!” Likewise Daniil: “Maria is quite content with the way things stand now. If Georgiy and Victor sacrifice themselves to the memory of their departed—guess who gets to rule?” This reads as though Maria orchestrated her family’s death to claim the their power, but that feels odd to me. Firstly because this was clearly a group effort—Nina claims that Maria is in charge because “We have transferred our power to her. Or do you doubt her entitlement to it?”

Secondly, while Maria seems haughty, she never struck me as personally power-hungry. She appears entirely committed to using her ability to found a utopia, but that is her entire family’s communal objective. She tells Daniil, “It’s time for me to start fulfilling my duty. Seems like my time has come, Bachelor Dankovsky!” but when he asks “What are you going to do?” she says, “Oh, I don’t know yet… It’ll become apparent soon. For now I want to stay alone. I’ll be sleeping. I want to dream about Mother and Simon. I want to ask them questions.” Maria’s character concept also claims she “doesn’t have a firm goal in mind. She is always in the state of some sort of trance.” So, while Maria certainly has designs for her utopia, it seems her plans were a cumulative effort informed by her family, not Maria scheming to pick off her relatives for personal ambition. I think Peter provides a more measured interpretation: “Maria has successfully executed an intricate scheme. Involuntarily, perhaps… but what’s done is done. […] You are aware that Victor and Georgiy are already dead, right?”

Returning to Maria’s inheritance, everyone appears convinced that Maria’s ability will exceed Nina’s. Aglaya says, “She will turn into a warlock queen and make the town bend before her tyranny. Like Nina before her, only even more frightening,” and Andrey claims, “I’d say the brilliance of her talent is going to surpass even Nina’s one day.” Khan, Maria, and Katerina explain her superiority that nobody will be able to oppose or balance Maria’s power. Khan claims, “I am afraid of my sister. She will grow stronger than Mother, who used to be held back by Father. This is why her power had brought more good than evil. And Victoria Sr., Ursa Major, was also alive back then. Who is to hold Maria back now?” Likewise Maria: “I have no husband to hold me back like my father did my mother.” Finally Katerina: “It took all of us to hold Nina the Terrible back—Victoria, me, and even the Kains themselves. Little Victoria will not be able to stand up to Maria on her own; I will not be staying in this world for much longer; and Victor adores her...” It then seems relatively straightforward that Maria will have greater power because she is unchallenged, but for the sake of speculation, I wonder if it’s because Maria is a locus for two sources of creation: the Mistresses and the Kains.

Mistresses are associated with motherhood, what with Maria discussing her womb as her power’s point of entry. Similarly, how Victor says when she becomes a Mistress, “The joy could not be greater if she were to become a mother,” which parallels Maria’s description of herself as the new town’s mother. Simon further says, “Maria has long been waiting for her time to come. Soon she will ascend to power and become the Mistress of Flames, as her mother once was. The blessed, blossoming Chaos, a nourishing source of growth, creativity and love, the gracious womb of a future life…” The Mistresses’ association with motherhood ties them to creation, perhaps a ‘human’ counterpart to the divine-aligned creation in Bos Turokh, Clara, and potentially the Kains. That is, the power to defy the Law is literally in the Kains’ blood—they have the same cells as Bos Turokh and Clara, both of whom are joined to divinity: Bos Turokh is a god, and Clara claims her healing abilities are from God. Saburov claims that “[The Kains’] radiant blood has preserved the memory of ancient magic […] there is still within them a spark of the flame that burned in deities and heroes born into a mythical era.” Andrey similarly explains, “Every Kain possesses this gift—the ability to see the unseen and achieve the unachievable. This art doesn’t have a name because very few people have mastered it.” So perhaps the Mistress’ creative faculties evoke the more human, physical capacity for creation as opposed to the divine power remnant in the Kains’ blood. Hence why Maria has power even Nina did not: she has the heritage of both ‘human’ and ‘divine’ creation, for want of better phraseology.

Lastly, I want to look at Maria’s actual behavior as a Mistress. Maria initially holds to Nina’s example and legitimacy; for example, when she threatens the Stamatins she says, “Tell them that if they do not wish to drink a cup of Nina Kaina’s daughter’s wrath, they will sit quietly at home!” A slight detail, but Maria’s threat centres Nina’s power rather than her own; this feels relevant considering that Peter claims, “[Maria] loves her mother too much. She tries to imitate Nina’s style.” Maria obviously emphatically loves Nina, and is perhaps further convinced in her infallibility: “Mother hated compromises. That’s why it all worked for her.” Maria potentially considered Nina unerring, which may inform Maria’s notions of how Mistresses should behave—particularly that she cannot doubt herself or even be afraid.

For one, Maria insists “I’m incapable of doubting my premonitions… or else too many people will suffer.” Though, this also seems connected to Maria’s need to position herself as the preeminent Mistress, as Capella says “If I let [Maria] see that I doubt my own abilities, it will give her a great advantage. We’re rival Mistresses, and these are crucial days. The Mistress that shows herself the most capable of all is the one that will be entitled to wield Power.” Maria reinforces this to Clara: “You are not a particularly strong Mistress if you ask questions like this… you are doubting your claim” and “This cannot be… Fear is not your kind of emotion; or else what good of a Mistress are you?” Self-doubt consequently appears incompatible with a Mistress’ power, which… Fucked up, frankly. More so because Maria likely considered Nina well-able to meet this demand, and believes any self-doubt will jeopardize her claim to power and consequently ability to fulfill her duty. Maybe that is another reason Maria tries to follow Nina’s lead. 

A last thought that bothers me, though: is this all worth it? Maria claims, “Perishing, burning down, dissolving without a trace—this is my family’s destiny. It happened to my mother; it happened to Simon. Tomorrow Georgiy dies, and my father will fade out in a week. And in ten years, when my town is complete, I will pass on in the same fashion.” The Kains incited Plague with their defiance of the Law/utopia, but what is the guarantee the new one won’t suffer the same fate further down the line? Yes, it’s *implied* that Maria’s utopia will be different in the Bachelor Route, but Patho is so emphatic that utopia can never survive, so. Unsure. But I do want to end on one bright note: how the Town children talk about Maria. They say, “Keep her safe, will you? She’s a bit odd, but really nice. I’d be glad if she ruled over us. Then our life would be beautiful, engaging, and—most importantly—adventurous! She can transport us all into a wonderland,” and “I’m so fond of Maria! She shines from the inside and she’s all magical!” I just find it sweet that the kids think of Maria like this, potentially how they saw Nina :,)

[kny-agere]

20 and 4 for giyuu for the ask game!! 🩵

is their regression more voluntary or involuntary? do they ever regress without realizing it?

Giyuu mostly regresses mostly involuntarily, but I think it happens very slowly. It’s not one bad thing happens and he regresses. Instead he’ll lean a little more against Shinobu while walking or Mitsuri will wipe food off his chin until he relaxes and lets go fully. Which goes into the mostly involuntary part. Giyuu will usually slip while barely realizing it, but if he is conscious enough then I do think he can resist or embrace the feeling (and speed up the process). I guess it’s less him controlling if he regresses but rather when (if that makes any sense).

what is age regression to them? what do they like/dislike? are they proud of their regression, or feel a bit more insecure about it?

I don’t think it’s surprising that Giyuu is very ashamed of his regression. He already thinks himself as lesser than the other hashira and I think his regression would only further that. Even if it was a situation where regression was more open among people Tomioka would likely still think of him as separate from any other regressors. He doesn’t look down on regression when it comes to others but somehow it’s different when it comes to him.

For Giyuu regression is relaxing to him because it allows him to give up control. Asking for a hug or for help is something he can’t do, and I don’t think he’d even know what he wants most of the time. I’m not sure how to phrase it more kindly but I think giving up control is something that has to be forced on him. Which is why I think his regression often comes from being hurt or sick, it’s easier to let go when he’s already halfway being cared for.

That’s also why it’s his regression is focused more on generally being held/cared for rather than any kind of play or outward appearance. It’s why he regresses so young (+ I think if he regressed older he’d remain too conscious of himself). But he doesn’t mind either if his cg wants him to dress a certain way or plans an activity.

[marimayscarlett]

Would you rather cross The Wall into the west with Sven Kruspe or cross the ocean into New York with Richard Zee Kay?

Hello 👋

First of all, thank you anon(s) for sending me these interesting/unhinged/sometimes really hard to decide-comparisons, a format I never expected in my inbox but which I welcome with open arms 😌

For this case, we have a young Sven in the end of the 1980's and a Richard in his 30s in the beginning of the 2000's:

Normally, I would look at this in an humouristic way, but I think this time, given the topic, I'm choosing a more serious approach. Firstly because both times Richard practically fled something/tried to get away from something and in one instance really endangered his own life and secondly because I have experiences in my family with crossing the Wall from the GDR into the BRD and find it hard to joke about. My grandfather practically was forced to flee quite early on since he was caught listening to western radio (that's why the song "Radio" holds a very deep meaning to me) and another relative of mine fled the GDR in the 1980's. Both instances seemed to have been quite risky and resulted in numerous consequences.

Richard, back then maybe still Sven, must've felt so vulnerable, unsafe and even more disillusioned than he already was after he was imprisoned by the Stasi for several days and then decided to leave. It's not an easy made decision to attempt an escape across the Wall. The Stasi back then persecuted not only refugees directly at the border while they tried to flee, they even persecuted the ones which planned an escape or tried to help others escape. Only the suspicion by the Stasi was sufficient to observe these people day and night.

Over 300 people died directly at the Wall and over 71 000 people were sentenced for "Republikflucht", for the crime of trying to leave the country [source]. So Richard back then put himself at risk for 1. planning his escape and 2. going through with it and 3. risking consequences back home, since sometimes even the families of the ones who left were observed even closer by the Stasi if the attempt was successful. So I'm really glad that everything worked out for him despite it being a surely very stressful time, plus it being timewise so close to the fall of the Wall.

Richard leaving for New York after the Mutter disaster was also an "escape" but with a different motivation and clearly different circumstances. It was more "official" so to speak, he needed to get away from Berlin (which he viewed as destructive and as a "drug city") and needed to put some distance between him and the rest of the band. Plus, he saw New York as a chance for him to stay artistically challenged since he viewed New York as "the worlds biggest drama". So I see this escape to New York as a more voluntary decision for him to get new experiences and impression, in contrast to the escape from the GDR, which was a breakout from an authoritarian regime to hopefully find a life more worth living on the other side.

So all in all, it surely would've been more comfortable to accompany Richard to the US if I'm being totally honest here 👀

[mimikoflamemaker]

Faerunian Writing Challenge - Day 5

First Time seeing Companions Fight

In the end Neve wasn’t really sure what to think, as she carefully searched for a position on her bedroll that would lessen the discomfort of her bruised ribs.

She wasn’t a frontline fighter. Not that she didn’t have some skill in fencing, but she had always preferred a bow, or a surprise strike from the shadow. The less struggle the better was a great rule to live by – kept her skin intact most of the time.

Things were different now though. It seemed that one needed only to show the barest hint of initiative – it’s sources completely irrelevant – for at least this lot of people to start looking her way when decisions needed to be made. It infuriated her at first, but the more time she spent with her companions, the more she understood that. Or at least she felt like she did.

Shadowheart didn’t remember much besides the task that was given to her, which was bound to leave a person feeling adrift, in more ways than one. Gale, by his own words spend last few years in a voluntary seclusion, finding a solution to his… condition, only because he has a very stubborn cat… Lae’zel was thurst right in the middle of a land he knew next to nothing about and was dealing with a problem from her worst nightmares. Astarion, for all she knew, cared only about what kind of mayhem they could cause next.

By all accounts, Wyll and Karlach were taking to their predicament in the most well adjusted way. But one was too polite for his own good and Neve had a sinking suspicion this man had never told anybody to fuck off in his entire life. She might have yet to teach him something useful one of these days. And the only thing she could really hold against Karlach, with how much help she was to her ever since her arrival, was that she would have drained their funds in a blink if left unsupervised. And Neve didn’t think she would be all that much, if she had spent it or something fun – getting out of Avernus merited some form of celebration.

But no, Karlach would likely given the money to the first person that begged for them, before ever thinking about herself.

If she put it that way, it was no wonder why, from one interaction to another, they started to look her way when decisions needed to be made. Neve wasn’t sure how she felt about it – she was first and foremost interested in her own survival. The others were a means to an end at best, and an obstacle at worst. But long evenings by the fire were bound to lead to conversation, and conversation to knowing each other better.

As much as she would have liked to be able to say otherwise, she was glad that she wasn’t left alone to deal with her tadpole. And that, whether she liked it or not, left her feeling responsible for the lot of them.

Which was what ultimately brought her to this rather uncomfortable predicament.

If she didn’t feel like she had something to prove, she would have stuck to her  vantage point amongst the rocks, picking of gnolls with Astarion perched somewhere next to her and out of the way, getting only worried when the beasts set in volley of arrows themselves.

This time however, she was a bit too far away from the nearest safest rock to jump on when they appeared. Gale stood right behind her and leaving the wizard to deal with a charging maw full of teeth didn’t feel like the best idea. Casting spells took time – not much in most cases, but those few seconds of delay would likely mean a throat ripped open in this case. So, she reached for a sword and braved the charging beast herself.

She had managed to dispatch it quite swiftly, but head on fighting wasn’t as familiar, as intuitive as archery was. She was paying attention to her surroundings, but when she was suddenly faced with three advancing creatures, she found out she wasn’t quite fast enough to dodge every slash and hit. She was glad that it was an unarmed paw that caught her, even though the force of the blow was enough to sweep her off her feet.

She was decidedly less happy about the broken cart that was in her way, the collision sending her clear over and the heavy landing it gave her.

The gnoll however didn’t get to make a meal out of her. No sooner that the beast jumped, it yelped in pain, the tip of gihtyanki blade emerging through its chest in the burst of red. The falling body revealed Lae’zel, a thoroughly unamused look in her eyes as she extracted her sword and relived the beast of it’s head in one, fluid motion.

She was usually busy with her own portion of fighting so unless someone was actively dying or in trouble, Neve paid them only enough attention to know where each of them were, to avoid sending an accidental arrow into a wrong target. But now her side burned and her lungs refused to expand quite enough to pull a proper breath into her lungs, so she had a rare opportunity to watch.

For all her hard edges, Lae’zel displayed an uncanny fluidity when she fought – one that could have only been born from repeating the motions until they were burned into her very bones. She did not stop to consider her next move – it was there, laid out in her mind long before she finished her current one. The way she fought was devoid of any flourishes, straight and efficient – and yet graceful at the same time. Neve decided she wouldn’t mind to watch it more often, maybe learn something even.

She wasn’t going to deny that she was impressed – nor that she was willing to learn from her betters. She was old enough to know that a person never really ceased to acquire knowledge and skills if they wanted to keep up with the world. Now, with the tadpole writhing in her brain it seemed more important than ever to stick with that conviction.

Next to the githyanki, Karlach could have been seen as… clunky at best, if not outright brutish. But she was just as efficient. It was true that the way she fought wasn’t as composed, but the sheer glee with which she bounced into the very front of every fight, would have left her considering a retreat if she was the one at the receiving end of that intensity. If she didn’t knew that Karlach was, without a doubt, the kindest person she met in… forever – save Wyll perhaps – the way she just grabbed two hyaenas by their scruffs and bashed their heads together, effectively silencing their angry snapping, might actually cause her to fear for her own life as far as the barbarian was concerned. The elleth had no doubt that she would have snapped her in two without breaking a sweat.

‘How much longer do you intend on pretending that all is fine?’ a clipped voice interrupted her thoughts.

Neve opened her eyes, revealing Shadowheart standing over her with a pinched expression, as if she couldn’t decide whether she was miffed by the display or concerned for her well-being.

‘It’s nothing’ she dismissed, but she could tell her words fell on unwilling ears. ‘I thought that Shar approves of pain…’ she tried, stretching her lips in a lazy smirk.

‘A pain with purpose, yes’ the cleric responded, not amused, before kneeling next to her bedroll. ‘A thing we can work on, some other time, if you’re so willing’ she added, a quick, sharp grin gracing her lips. ‘The only purpose your fidgeting has now, is to prevent us from taking a decent night’s rest. Now lay still and let me work, so we can all go to sleep in peace.’

[newtonian-tragedy]

I really dislike it when certain groups try to claim Newton as an icon for their movement because it shows not only how ignorant they are of his personality as a deeply complex, troubled and secretive individual who was motivated by divine beliefs that many would consider to be schizophrenic delusions, but also a complete disregard for a culture and circumstances that were completely different from those of today.

Atheists want to claim him because they think that science and religion were always mutually exclusive opposing forces, rather than science starting out as a means to affirm and understand God's creation.

Christians want to claim him because they see his religious devotion and mastery of the Bible and stop there, overlooking the fact that he would be considered a heretic in his time for daring to look deeper and finding corruption in the belief system and historical timeline itself.

The LGBT crowd wants to claim him as gay because of his deep attachment to Fatio (an extremely low-hanging fruit, no pun intended) while forgetting about his affections for Katherine Storer. Conversely, his voluntary celibacy is mistaken for asexuality altogether.

However you think Newton aligned one way or the other, I can tell you with confidence that it was actually more like the Secret Third Thing™, because he was so galaxy-brained and difficult to force into one box or another that the only label that really does him justice is "Truth Seeker".