#so yeah they both have their own inner demons :<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[scribblestatic]

So, like, if you've read SVSSS far enough, you know about the Bingmei vs Bingge part. And there's all sorts of stories with Bingge (basically a PIDW Binghe, not SVSSS Binghe) finding his own shizun in various ways.

Well, what about if he manages to summon a Shen Yuan, but his soul is in Shen Jiu's body? Which, like, wouldn't really be a problem, except he's already been torturing Shen Jiu for a good while now and he's down an eye and all of his limbs are mostly stubs at this point. Thankfully he still has his tongue and penis, which, after so often demanding Shen Jiu be castrated, he's pretty jazzed that didn't happen.

Shen Yuan, being the absolute freak he is, probably wouldn't mind too much. After all, he'd read this part of the story and cheered it on. Just cause he's now experiencing it himself, doesn't mean the revenge was any less cathartic.

Though, well, the dreams he has about what Shen Jiu went through does dampen his enjoyment of his suffering (so many lives lost that he can do nothing about, so much torment that just cycled on because no one thought to seek help, because the world was built so firmly on cruelty)...

And perhaps he'd woken up sobbing at times, crying his apologies to Binghe as though he was the one who had done all those terrible things to him, but he didn't, but those dreams were so vivid and felt so real

The girls at the Warm Red Pavilion, were they okay? Shen Jiu never had sex with them, only kept company to avoid the boys when he couldn't sleep and trained them in the four arts and gathered information from them, gods, he'd misunderstood Shen Jiu and thought him a remorseless villain and enemy to women

Liu Qingge, fuck--

At least now he can help Binghe actually enjoy his life and perhaps stop the cycle of abuse from continuing. Besides, cool motive, Shen Jiu, still child torment. And though the results were quite drastic, it was the dog-eat-dog world of xianxia China, and life was generally unfair. No reason to make Binghe's life needlessly unfair on top of everything.

But yeah! Now that he's in Shen Jiu's body, he and Luo Binghe get to talk, and Binghe, for the first time in his life, experiences regret for his actions, because now his lovely new kind shizun can't card his fingers through his hair or twist little braids into it. Moreover, Shen Yuan somewhat mourns over the fact Binghe's hair is straightened--he loved reading about his bouncy curls.

So now, imagining that, after time, Shen Yuan becomes a more prominent figure in the empire, especially post-marriage. He has a lovely eyepatch and wears soft red, black, and gold clothes, heavy on the red and gold. This nearly limbless man helps Luo Binghe do his taxes and works out various tips on using beasts to the benefit of the empire and remembering small notes about other races that allows the Demon Emperor to be both magnanimous and fierce in whomever's eyes he meets.

Others can't decide if Shen Qingqiu's mind was utterly broken, if he was cursed to act against his own will, or if he was possessed by some strange spirit. Regardless, the realms have never been in such peace before now.

Moreover, Luo Binghe has started changing.

While he can never regain the height lost to a childhood full of suffering and a lack of nutrients, he can change in other ways. He actually eats healthier because Shen Yuan insists on having him eat as well. He steadily stops straightening his hair, letting his curls return until they're like clouds. His muscles grow in firmer and his chest broadens.

Also, as he and his kind shizun speak further, even though he explores the worst parts of himself and uncovers those dirty, evil deeds and the ways they truly hurt him, Xin Mo doesn't get the chance to latch onto them anymore. As painful as discussing those things are...releasing them is exceptionally freeing. So, a sense of inner strength and ease he never had before starts to settle in his body, and his qi, usually constantly battling, stabilizes more than before, his heart demons no longer so adamant or strong.

As a side-effect of both parts, he was already handsome, but now, he's even more so. A wise, secure man no longer so strongly gripped by hatred, lust, or greed. Someone unforgivable to many, but becoming okay with forgiving himself.

Indeed, what a man!

Which is kinda a shame for Luo Binghe's many wives, because he's been heavily trimming down on his harem. Political marriages are substituted for other exchanges, fervent troublemakers are sent back to their homes (the ones who dared to attack his A'Yuan are never heard from again, strangely), and wives who simply ask for divorce are granted them, receiving a hefty gift for at least being loyal whilst married.

So, previously, a harem once numbering into the hundreds falls to the tens, and the remaining ones are either ambivalent or antsy.

Then, as though to answer everyone's burgeoning questions, he names Shen Yuan his empress during a meeting and proclaims that they will make preparations for his crowning ceremony.

I feel like that'd really set off what remained of Cian Qiong Mountain Sect.

Hmm... I think I'll talk more about this later.

---

Part 1: here Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11+: links on Part 10

AO3

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Reddest Flags, Longest Nights

⩙ Summary: The year is 1989. The Berlin Wall has fallen, and Nintendo have just overseen the release of the Game Boy. The first ever episode of Baywatch has just aired, and Ted Bundy has just been executed by electric chair. Vox's relationship with the Radio Demon is on the rocks. Their solution? To add a third person to their bedroom: you

⩙ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Vox X reader X Alastor, Radiostatic is a committed relationship (well, they're trying), Reader is a girl and she has a pussy, tentacle sex

⩙ Other notes: This is set in a sexy alternate universe for the characters in @bapple117's Bluest Monday

“I'm not for sale,” you say. It's a truly stupid, suicidal thing to say, with the Television Demon's talons wrapped around your arm, and his associate the Radio Demon watching with amused interest as Vox pulls you into their private booth.

“Come now, dear, that surely isn't true.” It's not Vox who speaks, but Alastor, his tones the same genial, cheerful ones he uses for his broadcasts. “Everyone has a price, after all.”

“Everybody fuckin' wants something, yeah.” Vox agrees, releasing your arm once he's convinced that you won't immediately bolt away. He's not slurring his words, but his movements are clumsier than you would expect. He's drunk, you realize. Both of them are. “People want power. Money. Control.”

“Sex,” says Alastor, flashing a grin at Vox, who makes a noise like someone just tuned him to a dead channel, his face filling briefly with static.

“Shh-yeah, some people want sex, Al. That's a normal fuckin' thing to want.”

Alastor's smile grows, a little smug, a little cruel, and his red eyes turn to you. “What about you, dear? Do you want sex?”

“Al! You can't just fuckin' ask a girl that!”

“Last I checked I was better informed on etiquette than you, old chum,” Alastor's smile slides sideways. “And besides, if our interests align, there's a deal to be had.”

You hadn't come to the club intending to sell anything, but the two demons are adept negotiators- Alastor assuring you that no, he doesn't need your soul per se, just your services, services of a personal, private nature, and aren't you inclined to give those, isn't it in your own best interests? All the while Vox is giving a more direct incentive, the front of his boxy face focused on you, entirely you, dexterous talons skating over the exposed skin of your forearms with enough pressure to make you shiver, with the implied promise that he could touch you in less socially acceptable places, if only you would agree to what the Radio Demon was offering.

You're tempted. You're so, so tempted. You know that this is a bad idea, that these two are bad news to be around, that you should just go back to your normal sinner life, but instead you find yourself leaning in to listen more closely to Alastor's solicitations, and Vox, still touching you, grows bolder, his hand dropping below the table to stroke your thigh.

The top of your thigh at first, skating the seams of your clothes, then dropping to your inner knee, Vox's claw drawing a daring line from your knee and up your inner thigh to your panties.

Your breath hitches, and Alastor tips his head at you, expression amused. “You seem distracted. Would you like me to repeat that last part?”

“Would ya like me to repeat that last part?” asks Vox, his grin as wide as his face and lecherous.

“I can make him stop, if you'd prefer,” says Alastor, with a casual menace.

It's hard to listen to the full terms and conditions with Vox's fingers massaging the fabric of your panties, and maybe that's the intention, but you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop, or even to ask Alastor to ask him to stop.

“What've you got to lose?” says Vox, his heavy box of a head nudging against your shoulder as the pads of his fingers press against your now slick-drenched gusset. Your thighs press together, his hand trapped between.

“Of course,” says Alastor. “If you'd like to think about it-”

“Oh, she's thinkin' about it, Al,” says Vox, his tone laden with filth.

“I'll do it!” you blurt, and both of their faces light like pinball machines. “I mean, yes.”

“Splendid,” chirps Alastor. “Now, as a rule, I will close a deal with a handshake, but for this-”

A kiss.

You've never imagined kissing the most terrifying demon in all of Pentagram city, so you have no idea what to expect, but Alastor's hand on your cheek is a feather light touch, a swirl of green magic around you. His lips on yours are chaste, brushing rather than prying, in stark contrast to Vox, who takes the opportunity to push your panties to the side with his fingers and stroke a slow line along your slick-coated inner lips. You whine against Alastor's mouth, and he slides his hand to the back of your head, holding you there as the deal is sealed.

That’s how you go home with them, Alastor holding the green chain that fastens to the shackle around your neck. Vox drives uptown, away from Voxtek, away from the Radio Demon’s broadcasting tower, and you end up in a quiet, well-appointed apartment in the most nondescript tower block that you have ever seen.

You note the shoe rack; the way that Vox’s shiny black dress shoes are stacked up next to Alastor’s bespoke deer-soled boots, and it occurs to you that this isn’t just Vox’s playboy apartment, as you’d expected. The two of them live together. There is only one bedroom.

“So, what now?” asks Alastor, holding out a gentlemanly arm for you to lean on as you remove your shoes in the entrance. “I believe your suggestion was to try new things, yes?”

“Jesus, Al.” Vox’s sigh is heavy. “We’ll just go to the bedroom, undress, and, uh, see where we go, yeah?”

“See where we go?” Alastor’s voice inflects upwards into his upper registers, the sound of a capacitor about to burst, and you realize that you are in considerable danger.

Alastor is grinning, but his body language is stressed, his ears back, lips pulled back over his gums to show the most of his teeth. In your second possibly suicidal move of the night, you squeeze his arm, where you have been holding him since taking off your shoes.

Alastor’s gaze snaps to you, eyes dangerously red, but there’s uncertainty in the corners of his smile. He kissed you, back in the club, you reason, so he can’t find you entirely objectionable. You lower your gaze, sliding a hand up his forearm, and his ears shift, subtly. He exhales, a little of the tension going out of his chest, and you slide your hand to his upper arm, pushing him back against the coat rack behind him, pressing him against an electric blue shell jacket, and he just lets you.

If Alastor were half a foot shorter you would kiss him, but as it is he stares down at you, his smile a question, until finally he gets what you’re trying to do, and bends his knees fractionally so that you can stand on tiptoes and press your face to his.

You can feel his smile under your lips, parting as you dare to pry, your tongue finding his teeth, and then the tip of his tongue, cautious against yours. You can feel the little shiver of his breath, his hand down your back. At first you think he’s about to slip his hand under your waistband, but instead he spreads his large hand under your ass, cupping it, and lifts you off your feet.

You feel a moment of vertigo, and a swoop in your stomach that is definitely not vertigo as Alastor holds you with your face level to his and slips his entire tongue into your mouth. You took him initially as a conservative kisser, but perhaps he was holding back before. You groan against his lips, feeling heat spread into your lower half as his tongue explores your mouth, the tip probing the roof of your mouth, the soft flesh of the insides of your cheeks. It’s not just the kiss but the feeling of helplessness that it brings, of being held aloft by a being so much more powerful than you. Your knees press the coats either side of Alastor’s waist as he cradles your ass, your tongue lapping against his, eyes closed, arms locking around his shoulders. By the time he breaks the kiss you are gasping, heart pounding in your chest, and Alastor gives you an appraising look.

“You are very small,” Alastor comments, his face a little flushed from the kissing. He doesn’t set you down, however, shifting his forearm under you as you wrap your ankles around his waist, his staff in his other hand.

“Ah, she’ll do fine, Al,” says Vox with a glance over his shoulder, unbuttoning his shirt as he stalks through the living area and into the bedroom. Alastor follows, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

Seeing the bedroom only serves to solidify your impression that the two of them live here together. There is definitely Alastor’s side of the bed, with red deer themed slippers poking out from underneath, and Vox’s side of the bed, with a digital alarm clock and a special pillow with a square cutout for his head. Two powerful demons, together in secret. It’s enough to make your head spin as Alastor sets you down, gently, on the his side of the bed.

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do this.” Vox clambers onto the bed, shucking off his shirt, a pause before he reaches you, his hand on your knee. “You too, Al.”

“Must I?” Alastor gives a sideways sort of smile.

“You don’t say that in front of a girl!” barks Vox, and you get the impression he would be pulling his own hair, if he had any. “You’re gonna hurt her feelings or some shit. And yeah, Al, you gotta join in. Otherwise it’s just me fuckin’ a girl on the bed in front of you, and that’s not really a fuckin’ threesome now, is it?”

Alastor smiles thoughtfully. “You did say we would see where we go. I could read a book.”

“Fuck my life,” Vox mutters, flopping back, his boxy head hitting the duvet heavily.

You tug on Alastor’s sleeve again, catching his attention. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m aware,” says Alastor, expression guarded, smile thin. He pauses. “Are your feelings really hurt?”

Your smile is wry. You’d be lying if you said his reticence didn’t hurt, at least a little. “My ego, maybe?”

“Ah.” Alastor looks down at you, and you are caught for a second by just how red his eyes are, like rubies, or pools of fresh blood. His fingers whisper across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

Tossing his staff onto Vox’s supine form, Alastor climbs onto the bed. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you for the third time that evening, all pretense of propriety gone as he pushes you onto your back, your head onto his pillows and his tongue snaking its way into your mouth. It takes your breath away; you can feel nothing else, only the dance of your tongues and lips, slick with saliva, Alastor’s hands sliding down to your jaw and your neck with the barest pressure. He traces the lines of your arteries, almost absently, and you moan into his mouth as you feel your body respond to him, your pulse growing insistent between your legs. You spread your knees without even thinking about it, your cunt level with his navel as you lie shameless and gasping and red-faced beneath him.

“Now we’re talkin’” Vox grins sidelong at the two of you, propping himself up on his elbows. “You are such a fuckin’ tease, Al.”

“Mm…” Alastor looks down at you, his lips parted and shiny with spit. “I do hope that’s a compliment.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, and Alastor presses a finger lazily to your lips, his eyes narrowing fractionally as if to say no thanks needed.

Vox, meanwhile, is removing your panties. He’s not shy of the Radio Demon’s body either, his hand on Alastor’s flank as he makes the space he needs to get them off. In short order you are naked, your clothing peeled away and the sheets warm against your back, though with the gazes of the two men on you, the room feels far from cold. Vox is down to y-fronts, which his cock strains against valiantly, while Alastor keeps his trousers and shirt, his tie and waistcoat discarded beside the bed.

Vox kisses your breasts, not even trying for your face, Alastor sitting back to give him better access. Vox’s lips are strange, part of the curvature of his front glass and yet not, warm and staticky against your skin, supple as his lips curve around your nipple and suck. His tongue is stranger yet, its sensation alien as the buzzing of fluorescent lights as he traces a circle around your areola and brings your nipple to a shivering point. Vox repeats the action with your other breast, Alastor stroking the vents on the back of his boxy head, his expression unguarded and fond.

“Al-” Vox makes a frustrated noise, his breath hot on your breast. “Pay attention to the girl.”

Alastor smirks, his expression almost flirtatious. “I was,” he says, his eyes meeting yours briefly, “But you and your big head got in the way.”

“Oh for crying out loud, Al.” Vox pinches the top of his frame with two fingers, his other hand on your breast. “There’s plenty to be done here-” Vox’s hand moves down your body, over the softness of your stomach and to your sex, a reassuring squeeze on your hip.

Alastor looks at you, your pink cunt spread open for him, and his brow knits slightly. He’s still touching your leg, hand stroking your shin where it rests against his waist. He’s nervous, you realize. Afraid of fucking up. Afraid of spoiling things.

“Wait-” Vox’s face is thoughtful as he reaches the same conclusion. “You’ve never eaten a girl out, have you?”

“I’ll have you know,” says Alastor, his spine straightening a little. “That I ate two ladies just last week.”

“No, fuck- I mean… eat pussy, Al.”

Alastor raises an eyebrow. “Certainly not!” he pipes. “The taste is revolting, the fur gets stuck in my teeth, and they have too many small bones.”

Vox gives a growl, and you find yourself holding back a laugh. Alastor catches your eye again, his eyes narrowing, red and beautiful as he bends to kiss your knee, a brush of his thin lips. “As my friend here has surmised, I am new to the neighborhood,” he says, his smile a little embarrassed as his gaze travels your inner thigh. “If you would be amenable to showing me around?”

You had expected the Radio Demon to be dominant in the bedroom, to take charge and fill the room with slapping, squelching sounds, but instead he is quiet, his gaze intent as you nervously spread yourself for him. You don’t know what directions he might want, so you hesitate, shrinking back as his eyes seem to drink you in.

“May I?” he asks, and when you nod, he drags a finger through the wetness that seeps viscous from your cunt; a slow, deliberate touch that seems to set every nerve ending in its path aflame. He pulls the finger away, his expression fascinated as a clear string of slick stretches between his finger and your cunt. “How interesting!” he exclaims, before popping the finger in his mouth, eyes closing as he savors your taste.

Vox rests Alastor’s microphone across his knees, impatient. “Al, you’re meant to put your face down there.”

“I’m building anticipation,” says Alastor, his lips a thin smile. “And if you had an ounce of natural showmanship, you would understand that.”

Vox shakes his head, his hands and mouth going back to your breasts, your shoulders and your neck. Vox’s head is too large to comfortably fit in the crook of your neck, but his tongue more than makes up for that, slithering bright across the sensitive flesh of your throat as his claws gently knead your breasts. The biggest side effect of this is that Vox’s large head blocks your view, and you cannot see what Alastor is doing.

There is a cannibal overlord between your legs is the first thought that registers as Alastor’s lips move glacial up your inner thigh. He kisses, he sucks, and he tastes, his fingertips ghosting feather light over your hips and stomach, tracing lines from your navel to your mons.

Vox finally deigns to kiss your mouth as Alastor reaches your cunt. Alastor parts your labia, his long tongue stroking between your folds as Vox’s tongue slips into your mouth, the doubled sensation delicious in its intensity. Alastor’s movements are hesitant, almost conservative, but your cunt is sopping wet enough that even the stripes he licks up your inner labia have you moaning into Vox’s mouth, your hips bucking needy into Alastor’s face.

Alastor’s fingers squeeze into the flesh of your ass, holding you firm as he tends to you, his face pressed firmly into your cunt, lips dragging across slick pink flesh as his tongue probes, a breath of pause between each attempt, his hands weighing how much each teasing lick makes you strain against his grip. His nose brushes your clit, which makes your entire body twitch, and he repeats the action more deliberately a second time.

It’s not long before he has found the most sensitive parts of your anatomy, along with the pattern of touch that best makes you arch your back and cry out. Alastor’s tongue moves back and forth, sweeping hot and wet and divine over you as you spread your knees as wide as they will go, your stomach tightening as you arch your back.

“Holy fuck.” Vox breaks your kiss to look impressed, one clawed hand kneading your chest. “Al, you’re gonna make her cum.”

Alastor doesn’t answer, a primal growl into your cunt, and you cannot answer, the only noise in your throat a mewl of helpless pleasure as Alastor, a man who has spent decades in Hell inflicting pain on souls attacks your nerve endings with a furious precision. You’re going to cum, and you don’t have a choice about it, not with his grip steely on your hips. You want to beg, but your lips can’t even form words as Alastor’s tongue robs you of sense, of language, of decorum, each movement of his mouth sending you hurtling towards the edge. Vox’s hands on you are marginalia to the treatise on pleasure that Alastor’s mouth writes.

It occurs to you, as your orgasm hits, crashing over you and shattering you into pieces, that Alastor might have ruined sex with other men for you. Alastor carries on, tongue pressing into too sensitive flesh through your aftershocks, even as you whine and try to twist away, until Vox touches his shoulder and stops him.

“She’s done, Al,” says Vox, his claws gentle in your hair, and you whimper against the warmth of his chest as Alastor releases you. “Hey, babydoll,” murmurs Vox, the proximity of his screen making the hair on the top of your head stand on end. “You good?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, language returning to you in bits and pieces, and look at Alastor, who kneels between your legs still, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes are uncertain, and you reach out to him, catching his thin wrists and pulling him to you.

“You’re good at that,” you say, looking up at Alastor as you lie sandwiched between the two of them, Vox’s strong arms around your waist, Vox’s cock pressing into your lower back.

Alastor kisses you, tasting of you, and pulls back, looking pleased with himself. “It’s a lot like torture,” he says, eyes half lidded. “All I need to do is listen to your screams.”

“God fuckin’ damn it, Al,” grouses Vox. “It’s always the horror show stuff with you.”

“God forbid a man have hobbies,” Alastor’s head tilts, but there’s no venom to his reprise. “And for your information,” he adds, a glance at you. “It’s not always torture. I also enjoy dancing.”

You laugh into your hands, the afterglow of your orgasm filling you with a pleasant kind of warmth, and Alastor steals another kiss, grinning all the while.

“What now?”

“Now?” Vox grins, dangerous. “Now it’s your turn, Al.”

Alastor’s smile becomes fixed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Vox’s smile grows wider, and he disentangles himself from you, a crackling kiss to the side of your head. “C’mere.”

Alastor gives an undignified squeak as Vox leaps and tackles him into the bedsheets, dexterous claws on the buttons of his shirt and his fly.

“Impudent! I can undress mysel- mm!” Alastor is silenced as Vox catches his chin and kisses him, open mouthed, long blue tongue lapping your juices from Alastor’s chin, and you watch as Alastor melts for the Television Demon, his shoulders going slack, his shadow splaying itself across the pillows. Alastor’s shirt comes off without complaint, and you crawl over to touch him, your hands on his narrow chest, his shoulders, his arms, as Vox undresses him the rest of the way. Alastor’s heart is beating fast; you can feel it through your hand on his sternum, like a butterfly’s wings beating futile against a glass windowpane, but it slows as Vox kisses his back, and Alastor places a clawed hand over yours. “I suppose you both mean to fuck me,” he says, a little sulkily.

“You tryna say you don’t want that, Al?” Vox’s teeth glow as he grins. “You don’t want me to fuck you as the lovely girl here sucks you off?”

Alastor’s smile purses, but he can’t bring himself to say no, not with you staring up at him prettily and Vox growling sweet nothings into his neck.

His cock stands at attention, the tip red and angry, and you take him in your palms before you get on all fours and take him in your mouth, feeling the quiver that runs through his stomach as your mouth envelops him.

“F-fuck,” Alastor hisses, filter failing, his hand in your hair as Vox’s talons circle his narrow waist. He’s sensitive- you can tell that much from your first few sucks, his precum salty and organic tasting, each movement of your tongue drawing soft noises from his throat. Part of that might be Vox working him open, your position in the bed lowering fractionally as Vox pushes Alastor’s knees apart.

“See, you want it, don’t you Al? Gettin’ completely fucked.” You feel Alastor’s talons tighten in your hair as Vox pushes into him, Alastor’s cock twitching against the back of your mouth, and you breathe through your nose, enjoying the feeling of Alastor coming undone.

“Vox!” Alastor’s voice is tight, high in his register, and Vox slows, stroking him and easing him through sensation, the two demons’ hips moving in tandem as Alastor ruts into your mouth, a strangled noise in his throat.

“Say you like it, say we fuck you good,” Vox growls soft, but the only things coming from Alastor’s mouth are obscenities, his senses overwhelmed by the two of you working together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Alastor’s chest heaves, his eyes screwed shut, his lip bleeding where he has bitten it, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every roll of his hips, a lewd little whimper escaping his lips with the apex of each of Vox’s thrusts.

“There you are,” Vox breathes, seeming to sense Alastor’s imminent climax before Alastor himself. You feel Alastor’s cock swell in your mouth, his grip tightening. “We got you, Al. Let go.”

“Don’t -ngh- tell me what to do,” says Alastor, emptying his load into your mouth, hot and salty. He gasps, and you swallow it down. “Shit.”

“Oh, you’re so good, Al. So fuckin’ good.” Vox’s voice is a groan as he presses his face crackling into Alastor’s hair and starts to fuck him in earnest.

You move your face from Alastor’s cock, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to lay back on the pillows with Alastor’s microphone and watch the show, but instead Alastor grabs your wrists and pins you under him as Vox pushes him to all fours, and Alastor kisses you, unreserved and passionate. He tastes of you, and you of him, small whimpers still escaping him as Vox fucks him. Your fingers are in his hair, over his ears, over his antlers, his thin back, and he holds you to his chest, lips locked with yours as Vox finishes inside him, the three of you shivering with it, the room still in the aftermath.

“Ngh.” Vox’s screen shows a test card for a good twenty seconds. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” Alastor agrees, a slow exhalation as Vox withdraws from him.

The three of you are side by side in the bed for a moment as Vox drops to the sheets. Vox’s breathing is labored, Alastor’s more controlled, and neither of them speak.

Alastor rolls onto his back, turning to Vox. “You’d best wash up.”

“What?” Vox narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s rude,” says Alastor, with a coy smile. “To keep a lady waiting.”

“Oh.” Vox stares at you as if he’s just remembered you are there, face coloring. “Oh. Shit. Yeah. Keep her warm for me, Al.”

Alastor takes his staff back in one hand, and pulls you to him with the other, your head nestled nicely against his bony shoulder as you watch Vox disappear into the bathroom, water running. It feels as if you could both drift off like this, comfortable and satiated, and you almost do, until Alastor’s fingers start tracing a slow line from your knee to your thigh, and your eyes flicker open.

“He’ll be pissy if he finds us asleep,” says Alastor, his tone amused. “So, unless you want to see him blow a fuse-”

You swallow as you feel him part your labia with his fingers, careful with his claws as he drags the pads of his fingers through the slickness that seeps from you. “Is this really the best way to stay awake?”

“Probably not,” admits Alastor. “But it is one of the more entertaining ones, don’t you agree?”

“Very,” you agree, your breath hitching as Alastor’s finger graces the base of your clitoris, drawing a small circle, pressing your flesh against the bone of your pelvis with his fingertips. “I am very entertained right now.”

“A performer is nothing without his audience,” quips Alastor, but his smile seems genuine. You’re wondering how he’s going to manage his claws if he fingers you when he extrudes a long black tentacle from his back. “Open wide now.”

Your legs spread, Alastor strokes your knee, the back of your calf, the arch of your foot, and his tentacle slithers, wrapping fully around the meat of your thigh before its tip teases at your cunt.

He doesn’t penetrate you right away, which is a good thing; ready and willing as you are the tentacle is girthy. Instead, Alastor teases with it, his smile relaxed and his ears pricked as he listens to your breathing, your sighs. Your words, when you are able to use them.

“There, there, just there,” you tell him, and your reward is a squeeze of his hand on your ankle, his breathy voice in your ear, telling you what a good audience you are tonight, how supportive, how participatory. The tentacle moves in tandem with his hand, the tip twirling at your entrance as he strokes the folds of your cunt, dragging slick from your hole up over your clit, coaxing it from its hood, his touch so light that it makes you hold your breath, and then firm, a pressure that has you gasping, moaning so loudly that he holds his microphone to your lips and asks you to repeat yourself.

When Alastor’s tentacle pushes its way into you, you are ready, more than ready, speechless at the girth of it and giving heady little gasps as you feel yourself stretch around him.

“You’d better not reach the climax before Vox gets back,” says Alastor, a soft murmur in your ear as you whimper, senseless against his chest. “He really will blow a fuse if you do that.” He’s enjoying himself, you realize. He’s playing with you, his smile relaxed as he manipulates your body to his liking.

But you are already mounting the summit, your body helpless in Alastor’s clutches. He barely needs to use his fingers, not with the tentacle pressed into you, an obscene squelching noise as he curves it in and out of you; Alastor simply holds his fingertips over the tip of your clit and lets the motion of the tentacle do the rest of the work, each brush of contact with the exposed nub of flesh like a lick of flame across your nerves that makes you cry out, over and over, until your throat is hoarse with it.

You cum as Vox returns, a spasm through your body, your cunt fluttering around Alastor’s tentacle, and the Radio Demon grins at Vox.

If Vox’s eyes weren’t just images displayed on his screen, they would be bulging right now. He stares. Alastor grins at him.

“Al.” Vox’s lips are an annoyed line as he watches Alastor pull his tentacle out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing. “How the fuck am I meant to compete with that monster?” His cock is well proportioned to his frame, but it’s nothing compared to the tentacle. You look between the two demons, hoping they’re not going to fight.

Alastor’s grin widens. “You’re a resourceful man, Vox. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Vox shakes his head as he climbs back on the bed. “You’ve always gotta fuckin’ upstage me, huh.”

“That’s why you like me so much,” says Alastor. “Isn’t it?”

“Ah, fuck you, Al,” says Vox, all bark, and Alastor beams at him.

Alastor pulls you on top of him, your back to him, and hooks his chin over the top of your head, so that you both face Vox when he climbs atop you, on his hands and knees.

Vox kisses you, softly, hand cupping your face, and you feel Alastor’s sound of approval through your back, the low hum of an electrical appliance.

“You ready, babydoll?” Vox asks, and when you nod, he pushes into you.

You feel him. Your orgasm has made you tender, Alastor’s tentacle has made you tender and you feel every inch of Vox as if your cunt were just made yesterday, shipped direct from the factory.

“Oh fuck, that’s nice babydoll.” Fragments of test card float on Vox’s screen as he pauses, in you to the hilt. “You feel fuckin’ nice. Fuckin’ soft, god.”

You feel Alastor huff into your hair with amusement, and he reaches for your legs, pulling up your thighs and then your knees, pulling your legs flush with your chest; a mating press for you and Vox.

Vox grins, his hands joining Alastor’s on the underside of your knees, and he fucks you in earnest.

That his cock is smaller than Alastor’s tentacle doesn’t matter one bit, not when you’re pressed like this, his cock able to reach the deepest parts of your tender cunt with ease. He fucks you, and you cry out; not the mewling whimper you had before but a full throated cry that escapes you at the apex of each thrust, your throat already sore, your voice cracking, but crying out regardless.

Vox’s monologue is all sweet, sweary nothings- you’re doing so good babydoll, so wet for me, so soft, so good, so fuckin’ good and Alastor’s commentary is drier- do you think you’ll be able to walk again after this? Now that’s a scream worthy of my studio, all the while you are crying out, tears in your eyes, a pressure in your abdomen, Vox hammering into the most sensitive parts of you, over and over and oh.

Your cunt flutters again, Vox growling a good girl before his seed floods into you in hot, pulsing waves.

You lie there, boneless, seeing stars, the three of you breathing hard. Vox drops his face onto your chest, and you stroke his hot vents, as you’ve seen Alastor do. Alastor lets go of your legs, a kiss to the top of your head.

“Fuck,” murmurs Vox.

“Seconded,” you croak.

“Mm,” buzzes Alastor. “Quite.”

Vox rolls off you, and you roll off Alastor, the three of you side by side on the bed, points of contact between you; your leg crossing Alastor’s thigh, Vox’s arm across your stomach.

It is a long, hazy moment before Vox sits up, digging through the dresser on the Vox side of the bed, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

“In the apartment?” Alastor complains, sleepy.

“It’s a fuckin’ special occasion, Al,” says Vox, leaning over you to place a cigarette between Alastor’s smiling lips. Alastor takes it, and Vox lights it, before offering the box to you. “You smoke?” he asks.

If you didn’t already, it was a hell of a time to start.

[shadowskulls-blog]

Carmilla Carmine x (gn or fem, doesnt matter) reader smut. Reader is vaggie's height. The two are already dating and one day, reader is being a bit of a brat, so carmilla pins them to the wall with her legs because why bend down when she can just do the splits against a wall and hold someone in place like that. However, it just makes readers brattiness go up and they kiss her thigh, long story short they eat her out while she's doing the splits standing uptight-

Only if you wanna write this, of course. But I think it's a funny and silly idea

Ohhhhhh. Yes... but yeah. It's gonna be a GN, so, yeah. I haven't written a lot of brat stuff, but I hope this is a good first try. I usually do smug, but hey, I will do the best I can. But my guess is they're like Velvett

*smut*

Carmilla Carmine x GN reader

"Carmilla, come on! Can you just tell me the reason why you wanted to keep this stuff secret!?" You ask loudly as you couldn't understand why keeping something as angels can be killed a secret! We could finally win against those angels and she wants to keep it in the dark!?

Carmilla sighed as she pinched her nose. You walked behind her until you both entered your shared room. With you closing the door behind you.

"I will not let this news get out and possibly put everyone into war." Carmilla said as she turned around, looking down at you. Seeing as you were still pissed.

"Isn't that what you sell guns for? I get it ain't war, war, but. It's fights and everything. You have guns that can kill demon royalty for Satan's sake! That's war, ain't it?!" You shouted at Carmilla, walking up as you kicked a stoll out from the vanity, then kicked it in front of you. walking on top of it to be at a sum what eye level with her.

"While angels, the monsters that could have killed you or our daughters! You didn't want the fact that their own weapons could kill them. For fucks sake. I would have told people!" You said as Carmilla glared down at you for a moment but walked away as you followed her until she was facing the wall with a portrait of her and her daughters. She noticed how you said "our daughters"

"Then what would happen? We all go into war. A massive war, if that happens, do you have any idea how many we could lose? We could lose over lords. People we love. I could lose my daughter's and you along with it! We both know how fights go, I will not have war come down and kill every last one of us!" Carmilla explained as she turned around and looked down at you. She will not have this be brought down and have people killed, and during extermination. anyone could be killed!

She will lot let her friends, daughters, or you die because of something she did that brought war up. She holds everyone she loves dear to her. If she lost you or her daughters, it would mean the end of the world for her

"But with the weapons that can kill them, we have a chance! By my logic, it seems like you want people to die -" you shouted back, but Carmilla had finally had enough of you, kicking you against the wall and slamming her leg up above you. You groaned a bit as you looked up at Carmilla, the shadows making her red eyes glow as she stared down at you

"You know that isn't true. You have known me for years, and you know I'm not that type of person. If anyone should know that it's you! And I will not let war be brought down on us. If you're too dense to understand that..." Carmilla said as you breathed heavy, you moved your left hand up to gently crease her thigh. Feeling the angelic steel along with her clothing

Carmilla stopped talking as she looked down at you, wondering what you were doing. You laughed a bit as you looked back up at her, leaning your head a bit to the side

"I get it. But...didn't think I fired you up enough to pin me with your legs..." you said with a smirk as you leaned your head against her inner thigh, giving it a kiss as you smiled against her clothing.

Carmilla's eyes widened slightly as she couldn't understand this sudden change. One minute ago, you two were fighting now. You're getting turned on by being pinned to the wall by her leg...

"If anything, I can tell this is bringing stress on you," you said as your hand slid up going from the her thigh to her pussy. Your sharp nails set on her clothing, ready to tare it off as you looked up at her with a smirk

"What are you doing?" Carmilla asked as she looked down at you in confusion with her blushing a bit. Your fingers rubbed against her clothed pussy as you continued to smirk up at her

"I'm just saying. You've been stressed out, and...your teasing me by putting your legs in my face." You said as you dug your nails into her clothing, taring away the clothes that covered her pussy.

Carmilla groaned as she felt the warm air hit her now unclothed pussy, as you dropped the fabric to the ground. You chuckled a bit as you saw she was a bit wet.

"See. You like this as much as me..." you chuckled as your fingers went to go crease her wet flaps gently, your fingers getting wet by the touch as you heard Carmilla moan by your touch. Her leg tensed up against your body as she relaxed again.

You smirked wider as you shoved your ring and middle finger into Carmilla, her moans getting louder as her hand went on the wall for support. her fingertips gripped onto the wall. You noticed that. You were always amazed at how she could even stand in those shoes in the first place but...

"I'm gonna make sure you lose your balance in those shoes," you said as you connected your mouth to Carmilla's pussy, your fingers still inside of her as you moved your fingers inside of her. Your tongue hitting against her clit slowly

Moans filled the room as Carmilla's free hand dug into the leg that was supporting her up, her moans and groans getting louder as she felt your tongue run across her clit as your fingers rubbed inside of her.

"I don't get... how you could go from a brat...to this, " Carmilla said, stopping so she didn't moan out loud. You smiled as you opened your mouth, licking your lips as you looked up at her. Seeing her glowing red eyes and flushed face as sweat started to form around her face.

"Like I said. Tease me with your legs, I'll take it.." you said with a smirk as you went back to eating out Carmilla, your tongue hitting her clit faster as you twisted your fingers around, spreading them every two seconds as Carmilla's moaned became louder a more rough. Making her leg push more against you

You moaned into her as your fingers began pumping in and out of her. Your tongue pushing into her wet folds as you sucked and kissed, tasting her bit of her as your fingers kept pumping in and out, pushing further up each time.

Until you pumped in again, hearing Carmilla moan out louder and her back arch as her nails clawed into the wall.

"Damnit!... right there!" Carmilla moaned out as her hands kept clawing at the wall, her back arching as you kept going. Your fingers worked around her spot as you moaned into her. Your fingers then pushed down into her as that was enough to make her reach her limit

Carmilla then used her free hand to put on your back, making sure you wouldn't pull away. her fingers clawing into your back as she yelled out in pleasure, her climax hitting her as she came around your fingers with your tongue being coated in her cum.

Carmilla breathed out in moans as she pushed her right hand into the wall making sure not to lose her balance as she opened her eyes to look down at you. Seeing you pull away as you breathed heavy with a groan escaping your lips as your back muscles tensed, feeling Carmilla's claws in your back

Carmilla pulled her hand away gently as your blood was on her fingers. You gasped as you felt her claws leave. You licked your lips as you chuckled a bit as Carmilla tried to stand without shaking.

"I got you tall, Mama." You said as you put your hands on her hips, giving her support as you walked her to the bed. Setting her down as she breathed heavy. Taking a minute to catch her breath as she looked at you with an annoyed glare.

"Sometimes you annoy me," Carmilla said with a groan as she looked down at you. You only smiled as you chuckled a bit

"But you love me~" you said as you smiled, walking up to Carmilla and smiling. Carmilla sighed but smiled as. It was true.

**

Well, since it's valentines Day. Happy valentines Day special.

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part IX (act I)

Word count: 11,504 Warnings: Blood/injury, violence, death, animal death, temporary dismemberment, dissociation, self-deprecating thoughts (not really, Jimmy’s just a listener and doesn’t know it), strong language, fictional racism/xenophobia, panic attacks Summary: The Double Lifers have successfully thwarted the invasion by Hels Tek, but not unscathed. Now that Tango’s been outed as Bravo’s doppelgänger, the remaining threads are starting to unravel, and Jimmy suddenly finds himself fighting to save Tango from his own inner demons. Can their love survive the fallout?

A/N: This took a ridiculously long time to write and got way longer than I’d originally intended so uhhh happy belated holidays? There’s a lot in this one that I’m excited to show y’all so I really hope u enjoy it, pls reblog/comment if u do, it means a lot.

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

~*~

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

~*~

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

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

(Did you see what he did back there?)

(He was like an animal.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doppelgängers?” Cleo calls over wryly.

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

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

Isn’t that the question?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Etho nods. “Yep.”

“Okay-”

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t much, the ranch.

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

But it was theirs. 

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

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

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

(What exactly is that going to accomplish?)

(Man up! Don’t be so pathetic.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Wow, so defensive.)

(Like you could protect him, anyways.)

(Have you no faith in your own friends?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” Impulse whispers.

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

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

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

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

The sound of hoofbeats pulls Jimmy out of his musings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The horses gallop away from the ranch.

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

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

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

(How selfish of him.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah.” Jimmy nods. “Good thinkin’.”

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

(You’re basically useless.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He slips out the door, leaving them alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Oh, that’s messed up.)

(You’ve really done it, now.)

(Brilliant, just brilliant.)

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

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

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

Impulse winces. “A couple times, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Wow, he really knows Tango, huh?)

(Thank god someone knows what to do.)

(What exactly are you even here for?)

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

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

Tango remains silent as Impulse closes the door behind them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimmy frowns. “Wha’d’you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimmy’s throat tightens. “Right…”

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

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

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

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

“He’s gonna need you.” 

That makes Jimmy look up. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Impulse nods. “I promise.”

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

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

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

Impulse huffs a laugh but says nothing else.

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

“Growled?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

(Well, that’s promising.)

(Round two!)

(Here we go…)

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

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

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

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

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

(You cannot sleep, there are monsters nearby.)

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

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

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

He takes a breath. “Hey, rancher.”

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

“... Jimmy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And all this time, Jimmy believed him.

(What a fool.)

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

(Fool me once, shame on you…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(True!)

(He’s got a point…)

(Why are you arguing this?)

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” Tango says shortly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night,” Tango whispers back.

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

That for once, he was lucky.

(For how long, though?)

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

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

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

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

(Sweet dreams…)

~*~

Morning comes, eventually.

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

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

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

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

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

Bravo joined the game.

<Grian> ey??

AtlasSyn joined the game.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

Phantonym joined the game.

<Grian> EYY????

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

<PearlescentMoon> Ummm?

<Renthedog> What the heck??

CRIMETIME joined the game.

t3rr0r_b1te joined the game.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

baddomen666 joined the game.

<InTheLittleWood> WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!?

staluggmite joined the game.

PwrPlayz joined the game.

<PearlescentMoon> Hello??

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

ApexGamer98 joined the game.

<Smajor1995> wait how is this happening

<PearlescentMoon> Raid?? D:

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels joined the game.

<Grian> i don;t know??

Jaffu joined the game.

<Grian> theres no one at spawn???

<Etho> woah!

<SolidarityGaming> SOS RSNCH

<Smajor1995> oh no

<Renthedog> What??

<Smallishbeans> rsnch lol

<GoodTimeWithScar> G come pick me up

Tyrannicide was slain by Tango.

staluggmite was slain by Tango.

Phantonym was slain by Tango.

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

<Smallishbeans> NO WAY

<BdoubleO100> OHHHHHHH

<Grian> EVERYONE TO RANCH

<ZombieCleo> what is happening???

staluggmite joined the game.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

<Smajor1995> omw cleo

Phantonym joined the game.

<impulseSV> Etho, Joel, our place?

<Renthedog> BigB where you at??

<bigbst4tz2> coming

SheHelsSeaHels was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

EbonyHelmentia was shot by Smajor1995.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by impulseSV.

CRIMETIME was slain by Wolf.

t3rr0r_b1t3 was slain by Renthedog.

Jaffu was doomed to fall by ZombieCleo.

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

Tyrannicide was slain by Renthedog.

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

CRIMETIME joined the game.

Phantonym was slain by Etho.

t3rr0r_b1t3 joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels joined the game.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by Wolf.

Jaffu joined the game.

Helfyre_004 was slain by Renthedog.

Vexed2theMax was slain by bigbst4tz2.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

Jaffu was slain by Renthedog.

SheHelsSeaHels was slain by Wolf.

bigbst4tz2 was shot by AtlasSyn.

Renthedog died.

Phantonym joined the game.

baddomen666 was slain by Wolf.

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

Jaffu joined the game.

PwrPlayz was slain by InTheLittleWood.

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

staluggmite was slain by Smallishbeans.

Helfyre_004 was shot by Smajor1995.

EbonyHelmentia was slain by Wolf.

PwrPlayz joined the game.

ApexGamer98 was slain by PearlescentMoon.

baddomen666 joined the game.

PwrPlayz was slain by Wolf.

Jaffu was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 was shot by Smajor1995.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

Vexed2theMax was slain by InTheLittleWood.

PearlescentMoon was shot by AtlasSyn.

Smajor1995 died.

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

ApexGamer98 joined the game.

SheHelsSeaHels was slain by Wolf.

ne’er_do_hels was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

Helfyre_004 was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 was slain by impulseSV.

CRIMETIME was slain by Smallishbeans.

Phantonym was slain by Wolf.

Vexed2theMax was slain by Wolf.

t3rr0r_b1t3 was slain by Wolf.

ApexGamer98 was slain by BdoubleO100.

Tyrannicide was slain by Wolf.

EbonyHelmentia was slain by Wolf.

AtlasSyn left the game.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by Wolf.

Bravo was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

Grian was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

GoodTimeWithScar died.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(What an abrupt change of character!)

(Lying again, it seems…)

(How suspicious.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Ouch! Testy…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Hey, Tango…”

“No,” Impulse protests, “that’s not-”

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

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

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

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

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

This is gonna be a fun conversation.

~*~

CONTINUED IN PART IX, ACT II

[hwaightme]

Cat named Mars (catboy!hwa hcs)

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

😻 pairing: catboy!seonghwa x gn!reader 😻 genre: headcanons, fluff, crack, demon? to cat? to roommate? to lover? 😻 summary: the longest bulletpoints about what it would be like to have catboy!hwa as your bf - the whole story 😻 wordcount: 4.5k 😻 warnings/tags: editing? who is she, unhinged crack part nyah, catboy!hwa, cute catboy!hwa, soft and polite catboy!hwa- okay i will stop |, language, food/eating, mention of others not treating animals well, sweater paws, mention of adorable nerdy hobbies, domestic, cuddle, a surprise about how hwa ended up being a cat in the first place, both past and present tense used, mainly lowercase 😻 taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ 😻 a/n: let me drift in the soft and fluffy catboy!hwa lands until waterbomb strikes, for my own healing; my braincells are out of service but i hope you enjoy <3 all reblogs, thoughts and notes appreciated! big hugs!

once upon a time he was a cat

there was never a moment to think about anything except work, and maybe about groceries and bills (but even those things normally hit you at two o'clock in the morning, leading you to check your phone and make make amendments to your schedule in a panicked state). there was never any room for a cat. until there was.

of course there just had to be an adorable kitty, at most maybe a couple of years old, lean and with jet black fur that was surprisingly shiny for an abandoned cat, sitting square in the middle of a cardboard box on the side of the street that formed a part of your regular path and commute to and from work. in the morning, you had locked eyes with the cat, heart bleeding and hurting for the poor creature but secretly hoping that someone else would take it - you couldn't take care of it, could you? in the evening, you were huffing and puffing with the cardboard box in your hands and the cat happily meowing, its tail stretched out upwards into a chimney pipe, slightly tilted to the side at the very end. you read somewhere that it meant the cat was happy, so you were going to take that as a good sign.

sat on the floor at the entrance to your apartment, you eyed the beautiful creature as it kept on purring and trying to hop out of the box and towards you, while you were insistent on keeping it in, lifting a cardboard flap repeatedly in an effort to prevent it from jumping. so. now you had a cat. there was nothing in the box, and on the outside, in horrific scrawl was a message suggesting whoever took the kitty either "kept him, or throw him away, whatever". non-humans. "that's who your previous owners were, right kitty?" you mumbled to no one in particular, but it seemed that the cat picked up on your speech and inched closer to you, ears moving like disks to pick up signals. "so you are a he, yeah?" a meow. so you were right. at least the beasts from this cat's past got one thing right. "do you have a name? actually… you know what do you want a… new name?" you were fast on the attachment scale, you realised. it had been barely a few minutes and you were already trying to name the cat who you had not even checked for diseases, nor had any basic facilities to take care of him. but he was more than excited by the prospect, and mewled in what sounded like gratitude. you began to list off names, eventually boring the kitty, and he started to falter in his enthusiasm. all until one name rang a bell.

"Mars?"

and that was how you ended up with a black cat named Mars.

by the power of actually having to shake paws with a cat, and you promising to get him quality snacks, you managed to get Mars checked at the vet who confirmed everything was fine, and was equally as amazed as you that he was so well groomed and neat. while you knew you did not have much of a right to do this, your inner pride still swelled and, to yourself, you said that 'yes, my Mars is really neat and handsome'.

you took to addressing Mars as 'your handsome boy' and that seemed to wake him up and get him speeding towards you faster than anything else could. also 'the prettiest star' and 'my universe' and 'marvellous Mars' all worked wonders.

at the same time, he was shy, as if he did not want to disturb you with his antics. always tip-toeing around you as silently as a cat could (which was very silent, to the point where he jumpscared you a couple of times but that is okay because excuse me did you see his precious face????) and never taking up much space, even though… hello? Mars? you are a cat?? he would rarely ever hop on any surfaces unless you explicitly told him to do so - this had left you convinced that your cat was well-versed in human-speak. he never meowed for food until you had told him to vocalise and tell you if he was very hungry, and gave him a rundown of his eating schedule and how it was important that he drank water. he was the politest cat you had ever met, while at the same time his timidness made you wonder if you were in any way intimidating. not once did Mars ever enter your bedroom, even though you left the door wide open for him, preferring to crash on the couch or on the floor of some other room. the first couple of times you joked about it saying "are you scared you'll see something, Marsy?" but when your cat actually looked away and hunched over, you were convinced that you hit the nail on the head, and that you were probably either hallucinating or were slowly turning into Doctor Dolittle.

but you were persistent. and insistent. and you took the little blanket with kuromi decor on it from him (yes this was that extreme of a situation) and put it at the edge of your bed. climbing in and covering yourself in the many layers, you looked at the terrified figure hovering at the entrance to the room, boba eyes as wide as saucers. he kept on looking at the blanket, then at you, then again at the blanket, then again at you, probably wondering if he could snatch the thing and make a run for it. you were on the verge of giving up at this point. sleepy, with work tomorrow, you were not about to engage in a whole war with your cat.

"you know what, if you want to stay, you can stay. i promise i will not hurt you, nor will i push you out. if you want to come closer, do. if you just want to take the blanket and leave, you can do that. your choice. i won't be hurt. i promise. you are already super brave and i love you either way. okay, Mars?" he did not respond, frozen in place. "my handsome boy?" his head twisted towards you. "precious?" a blink. another blink. one paw in front of the other. "are you actua- wow! I am so proud of you my baby! my brave boy!" you were cooing praises at him like there was nothing else in the world that existed as soon as he hopped onto the bed, foregoing the blanket and making a beeline towards your face, as though that was his read source of comfort. he was afraid to look away, focusing on your every expression as you patted his head and let him nuzzle into you. "you are so so brave, you know that? i know this is hard, so if at any point you want to leave, you can, okay?" purring louder than a powerdrill was the response you received. along with kitty cuddles through the whole night. because apparently, your cat was a koala all along.

and even in his cuddles he was gentle. you did not think you had ever seen him use his claws… ever. except maybe on a few toys but as soon as you were in sight poof gone, soft Mars activated. he was like your personal heater, careful to wrap himself closer to you not to push you out, but to instead complete whatever curled up position you were lying in. if you were stretched out to the side, he would find a place. if you were in a ball? he would find a place again. if you were lying down straight for whatever reason? give him a couple of nights to get comfortable, and now you had the ultimate cat comforter either on you, or around your head. and yes, you were blessed with a cat who barely shed, somehow. some of your friends who had cats almost cursed you when they found out, but you only smiled, looking at your lockscreen. nowadays, even during the workday you were thinking of Mars at least a little bit.

maybe you were spoiling him a little bit, but it was too adorable to see him watching you play legend of zelda or animal crossing on your nintendo switch. and when he saw that you got a gift from a friend in the form of a lego set? well. you were literally afraid to open the box because of how hyper your cat got - perhaps not today…

you fell into the most pleasant routines with Mars, from waking up and going to bed together, to eating breakfast and then 'parting ways' for you to attend to human business and him to his 'cat business'. it was cute. it made your head sing. you were happier than you had ever been. all thanks to that one random day. one random box. and one black haired kitty who radiated sunshine.

it was the eve of the one year anniversary of you being the proud owner of, or how you preferred to say it, the best friend of 'L/n Mars', and you were as sure as his ears were pointy in wanting to go all out with your celebration - minus the guests (because the last time you had invited a male friend of yours over your cat turned into a whole other creature and then sulked for at least three days until you took a day off work and called it 'Mars day', but you just assumed it was some territorial thing). you had set up little themed decorations, found a cute little headband with the number '1' that is suitable and safe for a cat and would not hurt his head, got a matching, human-sized one for yourself, made a whole dinner for your favourite kitty from scratch - the ingredients all checked with the vet who you now casually called by first name because you did not dare ever give Mars anything that might harm him and would rather panic call the doctor.

you were sat at the coffee table, so that it would be easier for Mars to reach the food (you set pillows on the floor for extra comfort, for which he thanked you with a loud meow), and had your respective mini-cakes set out in front of either of you. you had given up on making him ever eat kitty food - another peculiar quirk of your cat, so the 'cake', which was more a protein gift than anything, was fully home made. but Mars was happy. more than happy. if cats could smile, that was exactly what he was doing, right at you, squinting his eyes, threatening to hop over the table. you told him to wait, and quietly whispered your gratitude to him. much to your delight, he waited and listened, clinging onto every word.

"you know, i really think you are an angel. before you i was quite… how do i say this… life was just passing by. and now i look forward to it. and to be able to see you every day, to have fun days with you, to talk with you… all of that brings me so much joy and i hope that i can make you at least a little bit happy too. i wish you could tell me what you want, of course, but i really do think you know what i am thinking, what i am saying. and i hope that i am right in saying that i can understand you a bit too. you really are the smartest, most precious Mars. light of my life. i love you so much, my gorgeous, and here is to many years more, cheers~" you clinked your glass with orange juice with his water bowl, and giggled when he took a couple of neat laps to match with your gulps, only to lick his lips and hop off the pillows and go under the table.

in a matter of seconds, he reappeared at your side of the table, and poked at your lap with his paw, looking up at you with his bead-like eyes that seemed to contain the whole universe in them. you pat him between his ears, scratched under his chin, delighting him, and then stretched out your legs, gesturing towards your legs to signify that lap-napping season was open. Mars did not need to be told twice, and soon enough you had a black cat curled up on your lap, purring away, mewling a couple of times when you started eating to remind you that he was hungry too.

"so you want me to feed you now, too? aren't you cheeky-"

as if you could refuse him. you would be lying if you said you could. so there you were, on the floor and feeding Mars, quiet music playing from your phone, not quite sure if you could be any happier.

"i love you."

quite the contrast to what happened the next morning.

suddenly he is a catboy

when you wake up, Mars is nowhere in sight, and even when you call him, to which he would reply with at least a meow, you are only met with silence. you are alarmed, but wait in bed for just a little longer to see if Mars would come to you. nothing. you call again, 'pspspsps' him, all to no avail. only the breeze and the birds outside, along with inexplicable rustling from another room in your apartment. you raise an eyebrow and prop yourself up on your elbows. more rustling. a door opening, which sounds like the closet where you kept your warmer clothes. what is going on? another door closing. footsteps? you are on high alert. grabbing your phone and the light saber model which you had made a while back and kept safe by your bed, as it turned out exactly for this kind of moment, you head out to face whatever, or whoever is the source of the sound.

you are stealth itself, rounding the corner with weapon in hand, ready to face the attacker - or so you thought. until you come face to face with the tall, young man dressed head to toe in your clothing, namely a tracksuit that you had accidentally gotten in the wrong size and then somehow ended up being refunded for without returning the item, and a beanie that he had pulled over his head. spikes of jet black hair are poking from under the hat in all directions, and his deep brown eyes are widened in shock as he freezes on the spot and stares back at you.

"so, what the hell are you doing in my clothes?"

"y/n- i-"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?"

"i can explain-"

"nope do NOT get closer what-"

"Mars…. i…. it's me… your uh… cat."

"what?"

he looks embarrassed beyond belief, and crumbles to the floor, sliding until his back is against the wardrobe. wrapping his arms around his knees, he is scared to look up at you, worried that you would never recognise him, never accept him. this is exactly what he has been dreading all this time, and was heartbroken when the curse was finally broken, despite him technically being free now. he does not want to be away from you. this is his home. you are his home. you are the one who showed him true love.

"if it is okay… may i take this beanie off for a second?"

"i didn't even let you put it on in the first place," he winces. you feel a little bad, but hold your ground. his eyes sparkle in a way that is a little too familiar, reminding you of a certain someone. the cat who he mentioned. your precious cat. Mars.

"okay… here goes…" he slides the material off, making you gasp. hidden under the beanie is a pair of cat ears, fluffy, the same colour as his hair, and twitching as he adjusts after having flattened them to minimise their visibility.

"yo what."

"i have… a tail too."

"WHAT?"

he is not joking. a black tail to go with the black ears, sliding out from under the oversized hoodie. you are not sure what happened next, but you wake up on the sofa with the man, who you are now guessing is some human cat hybrid version of Mars fanning you with a magazine.

"I AM SORRY, Y/N PLEASE WAKE UP I AM SO- oh you are awake thank goodness i missed you i am really so sorry…" he drops the magazine almost instantly, leaning towards you and wrapping you in a warm embrace, much to your surprise. you yelp, but the softness, as well as his ears moving in the cutest way while he hugs you make you accept the gesture, and return it.

you never thought you would hear a grown man purr exactly like a cat, but here you are. well, you never thought you would have a catboy in your apartment either, but this is already happening so...

"so, Mars?"

"yeah?"

"you have some explaining to do."

after what turned out to be at least two hours of you and him going back and forth about what had unfolded and what was the history of the young catboy's state, you find out that, in reality, his name is Park Seonghwa, and that he is a demon, of all things. that is right, a demon. set out to curse and haunt and spread sin. but no, he is cast out of hell because he is too kind and soft. and so he had been cursed to be a cat, until for a full year, someone could give him their whole heart, their full love. while he explains this to you with a fondness unlike anything you had ever seen before in your life (except in what you perceived from cat Mars's eyes), you begin to blush, realising that all this time, you were talking to and confessing to him. Seonghwa. this handsome man who was always by your side and-

oh. and he was sleeping in the same bed as you. just great. you flush an even deeper shade and cover your face. and he had been jealous, not territorial, when your friend had come over.

"are you okay?"

"so okay."

"hug?"

"i, uh-"

"you give really good hugs."

"Park Seonghwa do you really want to make me suffer?"

"I AM SO SORRY ARE YOU HURT? DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG I AM SO SORRY?!"

"no you are too cute. come here"

catboy!hwa headcanons

is initially cautious because well… you got used to him being a cat and now suddenly you have a whole man with cat ears and a tail walking around your house. he catches on to the fact that you are kind of shy around him too, but he does not push it, at least not straight away.

because that would mean that he has to get over his own shyness towards you extra quickly, and that proves to be difficult when it hits him that, well, he is now a person too, and you are a person, and he fell in love with you, and you told him you loved him before - on occasion he just walks around blushing with his ears pressed flat to his head but don't point it out he is already struggling ;~;

you might have to be the one to initiate the contact again because he is literally too scared to overstep anything and everything - even when you bought him his own first few sets of clothes as a 'human edition anniversary gift'. you approach him to give him a hug and he groups up as if he is about to dive into a pool, hands to his chest, eyes wide. but is he moving anywhere? no. does his purring give him away? yes. after that the two of you gently reintroduce physical touch and it makes you realise just how much you miss Mars, particularly because Seonghwa is still a little distant for understandable reasons. But you both are trying your best.

if you massage his head and scratch behind his hears he will melt - his favourite thing in the world is having his head rest on your lap with his eyes closed while you ruffle his hair really slowly and run your fingers through it.

desperately misses the times when you would call him handsome and pretty and smart, and every single affectionate word in the universe so he tries his damn hardest to get you to do that again, first by trying to be nice and helping you around the house, and when the results are not to his satisfaction and when cuddle sessions are pretty much the norm, but words of affection aren't… he pouts and openly asks you why you don't call him that anymore. you squeak the words out but the reaction makes every next attempt easier than anything.

he is scared to approach your room again, though, and this time you say nothing because well, this is a whole other territory. a couple of months pass before you consider and that is because you find him sleeping on the floor a couple of times, curled up with is tail covering his face a little, and he said it was because "he is scared otherwise and here is safe". so you take out a futon for now, but he is more than happy with this progress.

he learns how to cook both from you and from tutorials online, and then starts remembering what he used to cook a long time before - you basically stop cooking altogether because now he is insistent on waking you up with breakfast, packing you lunch and greeting you with dinner. he sometimes gets a bit too experimental, but you do not mind it too much because at least he cleans everything up.

you think you can ignore the lego in the corner of your living room? no :) it is a date now. a lego building date. for four hours straight. on the floor. him running this ship like you run your team at work. and his focus, his professional approach to the matter is a little too attractive, you admit to yourself. and somewhere along the way that translates into you planting a kiss on Hwa's cheek. this is the only time over the whole four hours that he drops the pieces he is holding in his hands, gazing at you, not quite sure if what he felt just now was real or not.

but nope, judging by your attempts to avoid his gaze this was very real. so he gets real bold real quick and guess who finds themselves trapped by two tones arms on either side of you, back on the floor, a curious and mischievous face a mere inch away? that's right, you. wants to build a starship, accidentally builds a relationship along with it - a major win.

there isn't ever a platonic stage really. an extensive awkward stage? sure. a roommates-maybe stage? sure. two people who like each other? sure. and now, after many months of you settling into a new routine, two people who love each other and keep telling each other that.

he finds a job that he can do remotely, and in this way remains mainly at home and around the neighbourhood with his beloved hobbies and balancing you out. in this way he now starts to sneak support to pay bills and to buy you little gifts (as a little apology for taking your clothes sometimes - read often)

it is not Hwa's fault that he misses you very quickly. it just happens. then one thing leads to another and he is lying on your shared bed hugging a hoodie of yours. eventually that leads to him dragging a couple more items out of your wardrobe and making a little nest out of them - only then does his worry go down and he goes for a nap while curled up in a ball.

when he knows that you should be arriving soon he starts walking up to the window, then away then back to the window, and away again. cycle repeats itself until he can spot you from a distance, and then he just stays by the window.

he helps you redecorate and rearrange your apartment, considering that you now have a 5'10'' human cat instead of one you can hold with two hands, and shocks you with just how many details he remembers about you, down to allergies, what colours irritate you when it comes to interiors, what plants you had to give away to keep him 'in cat form' safe - even though yes, he would not eat them, but how were you to know that?

he remembers all your special days, and hopes you remember his, too. thankfully, he knows his own birthday and using cat mathematics, converted from demon to cat to human. and so, now you can celebrate him wholeheartedly, only this time that also involves you taking him to go have a picnic under the cherry blossoms.

you and Seonghwa go to pick out and buy him a phone together, and you spend a whole day teaching him how to use it. soon enough your own phone goes off with notifications from him. he sends you fun things throughout the day and if he is busy, he sends you a selfie or a heartfelt message.

likes to curl up and read poetry with you. doesn't matter if out loud of in silence. what matters to him is that you are close. and good luck trying to get away - he has a tail and it is wrapped around your leg like an alert system so that he can tackle you right back to the couch or the bed. because it is you and Seonghwa time.

occasionally sings you lullabies that he either overheard somewhere or remembers, breaking into a smile when you wriggle closer to him and fall asleep, stress melting away from your every feature.

overall you are now living with a catboy Hwa cast out of hell for being too nice, who also turned out to be a big nerd, with heart eyes for you, sweater paws instead of actual paws, the occasional feline habits still coming through (like him rubbing his face against your shoulder, or your own face, or him hissing when frustrated or threatened, or him having the widest stretch in the morning, or… actually he is still part cat so, you have to deal with it), and all the love to give. thankfully not in the form of something he hunted. he buys birds at a store now. meant to be cooked. human-friendly.

he brings you a limited edition starship instead. if you display it he will look at you like he is falling in love with you all over again - if that is even possible because that would mean stopping loving you now, and that is the one thing he cannot do <3

😻 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @pocketjoong-reads @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @burnmepls @pyeonghongrie-main @archivesummer @little-angel-k @marsstarxhwa

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a kind reblog, much love!

[circeyoru]

I imagine what would happen and what it would do for the reader to finally say "I love you" to Alastor (Maybe with a kissing scene, I don't know, it's up to you!) .. Like what scenario could this happen? And what would our yandere react?

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}

Another wholesome one!!! AHhhh

I think you guys are gonna love this one

If you guys read all my writings for {Unwanted Soul} and I'm including the asks too since I treat them as trivia now, you'll know Reader/you are not one to declare directly about your love. The most you did was admit to yourself and tell Alastor you missed him before your slumber. For good reason.

(since there's yet to be a request for part 5 or story ideas, this might be a spoiler or reused for future writing but with more details. you are warned)

Now, what would it take for you to directly confess? There MUST be a trigger. Something that pushes you to the edge that you can't keep it to yourself. A previous ask already got the kissing part, you were not shy to show your affection to Alastor. It's the admitting and people's acknowledgement that makes you not establish a relationship.

So what would push you? Be that trigger? There's already 2 people that did that. Mimzy and Adam. What they both have in common is the way they treated Alastor. One was using Alastor for their own benefit and the other was going to take Alastor away from you. You're not on Alastor's level, but you having accept your feelings now won't stand by and let others take Alastor away from you.

The trigger needs a build-up, so there's a repeated element. Adam's dead, so that's a no. Mimzy isn't, so she's the one. Okay, Alastor has no idea that you went to have Mimzy a silent warning (firing a shot at her), he only knows you know Mimzy and her actions, since you never expressed your dislike of Mimzy to Alastor. You heard from Husk what type of demon Mimzy was and he was happy to provide.

What happened was Mimzy came to the hotel again, asking for Alastor. You stayed back watching while Husk asked why, she claims that she wanted to apologise to Alastor for her actions. Charlie being the kind soul she is, let Mimzy stay and wait till Alastor came back. You were just about to leave for your room, wanting to tell Alastor to delay his return or just not go through the hotel lobby.

"Hey, you're a new face!"

You didn't even need to turn around and Mimzy was already standing in front of you. You had a hand on a notebook was was strapped to the side of your hip, something like where one would put their swords or guns, then your quill was in your inner chest pocket. Everyone else in the lobby felt the tense aura around you, everyone except Mimzy who continued to babble on and on.

You got annoyed standing around and sat down, Mimzy following suit. If you were ever in doubt of why you hated interactions, yeah, she's the perfect example. You didn't even listen to what she was talking about, shutting her off. Everyone saw and noticed, it was off that you were humoring Mimzy when you could have left, but you didn't. Then they recalled that Mimzy was looking for Alastor, so they figured you stayed around to see the exchange between the two.

"Actually, this cutie here's always got smile's attention. He's like a puppy!" Angel added mid-conversation.

"Wow, you fell for him of all people? I mean, I wouldn't blame yeah, but he's not worth it!" Mimzy laughed. "Never will he even care about a little weak soul like you!"

When Husk saw the way your face scrunched up in disgust, he warned Mimzy to shut it. Naturally, she snaps back at Husk and says she's talking to you. Charlie comes over to defend Husk and you, telling Mimzy to back down. But she continues, laughed and sang how evil and cruel Alastor was to cut your chances. To you, it was so weird that while Alastor saw Mimzy as a friend, she didn't. That was too close to home for you. Way too close.

"Shut your annoying mouth!" You declared, standing up. Your outburst got everyone staring at you and Mimzy to shut up. "What do you know? You use Alastor's name to get what you want. You use your friendship with him to get what you want. What's wrong with you? In Hell, you're supposed to treasure what you have. Not abuse it."

"Wow, so you're one of those. So righteous, so good." Mimzy taunted back with a smirk. "It's because we're in Hell that we should use everything to our advantage." She got in your face as she poked at you, "You're very defensive of ol' Alastor. What, did ya actually fall for him?"

Without missing a beat, you spoke so clearly and firmly, "I love Alastor."

"What was that?"

"I said," Just for a moment, your eyes closed with a blink and you turned to the voice on impulsive, a glare prepared to direct at the demon, "I love you."

Your own gasp and shocked overshadowed everyone elses. Alastor. When did he come back? Your mind replayed what happened and you froze, you immediately teleported away with your pages and disappeared from the lobby.

Alastor's shock and joy were cut short when he heard Mimzy's laughter, sarcastically lamenting for your 'heartbreak'. His demonic form came out so naturally and his shadows swallowed Mimzy whole. No time to waste. He went to you and found you in your pile of pillows covered by your blanket.

He sat by your bed and placed his hand over your head, "Darling, I can forget I heard it." He's lying, he'll remember it. You defending him, you caring for him, and you declaring your love for him. In some sense, Mimzy was useful. But for you, he'll say he won't care. "You don't have to take the role or any responsibility."

Alastor almost didn't react fast enough when he was pinned to the bed post by you, a kiss on the lips made him all the more excited and downbad for you and your affection. His eyes droopy as he reached for you, that determined look on your face and that beating heart.

"No. Remember it and never betray my love. Alastor."

It's his now.

"Of course, My Love."

All his.

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write 2k24 - Day 26 🔞

Prompt: Felix x Fem!Reader

Tags: Oral sex (f receiving), squirting, established relationship

A/N: For all my thirsty Felix stans

It had been one of those days. Everything that could go wrong at work had and I was looking forward to lazing on the couch with a glass of wine and watching whatever stupid dating show Netflix pulled up.

“Hey babe!” Felix called when he heard me open the door to our shared apartment.

“Hey,” I grunted in return, kicking off my shoes and dropping my bag by the door. “I thought you had plans?”

“Jinnie forgot he had practice because he forgot it’s Friday,” he replied. “You look exhausted.”

“That would be because I am,” I sighed. I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d been slightly looking forward to being home alone for a few hours. Slightly.

“Come on,” he gave me a quick peck on the lips and led me to the bedroom.

“Babe, I’m really not in the mood…” I started.

“You need to change out of your work clothes, don’t you?” he asked.

“Well yeah,” I agreed.

“Let me help,” he said. He unbuttoned my top, slowly running his hands up my sides before pushing it off. He unhooked my bra and pulled it off, careful to avoid my chest. I felt my panties start to get wet. As much as I liked to think of myself as a modern woman who was fully capable of taking care of herself, having Felix help me was a turn on. A big one.

“On or off?” he asked.

“Huh?” I asked. I was too stuck in my own head to realize he’d gotten on his knees, taken off my skirt, and had his hands on my hips over the top seam of my panties. He was looking up at me expectantly.

“What happens if you take them off?” I asked.

“That’s up to you, but if you were open to it, I’d like to eat you out and from this angle it does appear you’re amenable to it,” he grinned.

“Only you would say ‘amenable’ before you stick your tongue in my pussy,” I grinned back at him and ruffled his hair.

“So is that a yes?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” I replied.

“Get comfortable then,” he gestured to the bed. An embarrassing amount of slick came out when he took my panties off. “I didn’t know just undressing you was enough to get you that wet.”

“Now you do,” I lied down and let my legs fall open.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he kissed his way up my inner thigh until he reached my pussy. He traced up one of my folds with his tongue.

“Fuck,” I groaned. I felt him smile against the already sensitive skin.

“As always, I expect you to let me know I’m doing a good job,” his lips moved against my thigh. I nodded right as he began sucking my clit. My hips bucked on their own. He carefully wrapped his hands around them and pinned me down.

“You’ve got to hold still,” he admonished, but we both knew I liked it when he forced me to hold still. I let out the most pathetic whines and whimpers as he licked and sucked. I’d given up on any kind of pride when his mouth was between my legs a long time ago. Then he plunged his tongue into my pussy and began to suck.

“Holy fuck Felix,” I gasped. If I didn’t know any better, I heard a giggle from between my legs. I felt my pussy begin to twitch and that unmistakable feeling like I was going to pee. He was trying to get me to squirt in his face. He was going to succeed, too.

“Come on, baby. I know you’ve got it in you,” he said, briefly pulling back and massaging my clit with his thumb. The bottom half of his face was shiny with slick. He was grinning at me like some kind of demon.

“You…” I began, not even sure what I was even trying to say.

“Should I let you come? I know you’re gonna make a mess on my face, but maybe I like to brag about it later,” he kept massaging my clit. I was teetering on the edge and he knew it. “I guess I’ll let you come.”

He stuck his tongue back in my pussy, sucked all of about 3 times, and I was coming. I’d panicked the first time I squirted thinking that I’d peed in my boyfriend’s face, but he’d assured me that it wasn’t enough to be actual pee. Also if he enjoyed it, who was I to argue? Now I just let the dizzying pleasure course through me and went limp when I finished. He reached for a towel I’d left by the bed this morning to clean his face before he kissed me.

“Strangely enough, you look less exhausted now,” he teased.

“Strangely enough, you relaxed me better than a glass of wine and Netflix,” I replied.

“Thank you for the ego boost,” he said before getting up and handing me my house clothes.

“Thank you for being my boyfriend,” I smiled.

“You’re welcome,” he laughed.

[izvmimi]

cw: hurt/comfort with like too much comfort. part of isekai au. reincarnation mention. don't look at me lmfao.

The gathering around the irori in the home you are staying at between missions has long since dispersed - Inosuke and Zenitsu deciding to go to bed after an unnecessarily escalated spat, and your friends themselves having turned in for the night - and now all that remains is you and Tanjiro, sitting around the charcoal hearth. Now that Inosuke will no longer pop out of nowhere to interrupt any attempt at affection (as he has the habit of doing for a reason unknown to the two of you), Tanjiro moves closer to your seated position, his chin pressing gently on your shoulder. You’ve been staring fixedly at the burning charcoal for a moment now, your knees pulled to your chest as the fire continues to crackle just before your bare feet, your filled cup of tea untouched. He glances at it for a moment, then lets his hand gently cover yours pressed against the wooden floor as he rests behind you.

“Are you okay? You’ve barely touched your tea.”

You don’t automatically let yourself sink in his warmth, so he contents himself with letting his arms settle around your waist and pressing close. You remain still, pensive.

There is a fierce wind that blows just outside this dwelling, ice and snow bated by the wooden walls of this home; you can barely hear or feel it this close to the fireplace, warmed by both the dutiful flames and Tanjiro’s body heat. The muted sound of nature feels representative of the inner turmoil of your mind as you continue to look within the flames with intent, as though you can divine your own future through them. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

He’ll accept that answer for now as he settles on just holding you close, not knowing that he’s holding you together at this moment, as in many other instances over the past year. Tanjiro keeps himself quiet, humming every so often as though to remind you he’s there, breathing and existing by your side always.

The coal burns odorless as you watch it, but you can imagine that if you ask Tanjiro, he’d be able to tell you the complex myriad of notes to be inhaled in the unadulterated smoke. In your own time, you recall a fireplace in your childhood home that you’d never used and purchased firewood your parents had set aside, truly just for show with no intention for use in favor of central heating. In this time period, the charcoal is indispensable or you’d freeze to death. 

Tanjiro was once a coal burner and it is apt for him, down to the very spelling of his name. Steadfast, warm, dependable, a versatile healing and nourishing resource borne out of destruction. He hums again, and you shift finally, letting out a drawn out exhale.

He can tell you’re ready to speak, having come up to a conclusion in your own mind. You’ve fought demons today successfully, you’ve grown stronger, and yet, you’ve still received no answers about how to return to your time. Your memories fade slowly day by day, but new ones are made every second. 

Like now.

“Tanjiro.”

“Yes, love.”

He calls you love now, any chance he can get, and it makes your heart rend at times. You want to go home so badly, to see your family and loved ones, but he is your loved one now and you need him. 

You swallow thickly, then let your hand rest on your belly on top of his, leaning into his touch. You can afford this for now, in fact you should before you can no longer.

“Where do you think the previous incarnation of me is right now?” you ask. 

He muses for a moment, then replies. “Hopefully somewhere safe and warm.”

You smile. As you’d expect, a sweet, straightfoward answer from him. 

“Yeah, probably living a simple but fulfilling life on another continent. Maybe not even human, a particularly well-behaved goat or something.”

He laughs and presses a kiss to your neck.

“I don’t think you’d be a goat, but if you were, I think you’d be the cutest goat.”

You’re warmed up again from the inside, but fight it off, turning to him so that you look him in the eyes. They shine, the flickered flames reflected in the irises. He doesn’t break his hold on you, only readjusting. Always readjusting to suit your flow, you practically hate how much he accommodates you. 

“There’s probably some karmic retribution for whatever’s going on here,” you murmur. You’re not sure you believe in reincarnation, but so many around you do, and if that were true, is there a you that exists in this world right now that will never know him? Is there a him in your own time that will never get to meet you if you stay?

If love is true, does it span time or does it rebel against it?

Despite this you let him tilt your head up and kiss you, while wrapping you in the warmth of a blanket you didn’t remember him bringing out. 

“What’s the punishment? For what crime?” he asks. The way he looks at you, he seems to pore into your soul, far too good to be human, far too good to be yours.

“I…” you trail off. Going from work assignments and weekend partying to slaying demons and losing everyone you know and the technology you’ve always taken for granted should be hell, but when you’re together like this, it feels more like a short-term purgatory with heaven in clear view, with the sweetest guardian spirit leading you there.

Your gaze lowers from his deep carnelian ones and you decide instead to let yourself rest against his chest.

“Never mind, I love you.”

You can feel his love for you swell. 

“I love you, too.”

You let yourself rest as the charcoal burns; he hums again, just slightly off-key but it’s music to your ears. 

[skayafair]

Hell Circles

Alright time for a soul-crashing post!

When I saw Edwin curling down on the floor in that room in Hell, trying to be as quiet as possible and not even trying to run when Charles found him, my mind faltered.

We know Edwin escaped Hell. So why did he look like he gave up? He hasn't been there for as long as the first time, I think even with hell's no-time he should have been able to feel this.

I explained it to myself in 2 ways, they aren't mutually exclusive and are both pretty painful to think about.

It was just this devastating to end up in Hell for the second time, and Edwin clearly didn't expect for anyone to come for his rescue. So his resilience and resolve weren't as strong as the first time or, rather, he felt broken by this sudden developement and didn't manage to bounce back from it yet (again, it wasn't very long this time). The boiling point of "I WILL get out of here again, everything be damned" wasn't reached yet. (As you can clearly see, I have no doubts whatsoever that he WOULD HAVE done this eventually, just after much more trauma and suffering. I'm so glad Charles came before all that.)

This is a psychological cycle. I often go through a similar one so I couldn't help remembering it. When you run as fast as you can and try your best to no avail until you're out of all the resources to go on, and so you give up. Curl up in the corner and hope the outside world won't notice you, give you some respite. The future seems bleak or non-existent. You give. up. It won. And then over time the inner battery charges, or the desperation reaches its breaking point, so you grit your teeth and get up. And run and try again and again and again. "Impossible just means try again". I thought Edwin must have went through similar cycles time after time. The first time he was dragged into hell, then the second. After every couple of "deaths". The worst thing about it is that while real life has at least one escape (not recommended but as a last resort it's at least always there if everything becomes too unbearable), Edwin has none. His only choice is either to tremble in the corner forever (and who said the doll-spider won't notice him even so?) or to run and be torn to pieces. Forever is a very long time. Only with running there's still this very thin, very subtle hope to escape, so in a way this choice is unavoidable. Oh, right, Edwin actually has another possible escape - into madness can you tell I'm fond of loveraftian horror. Locking himself up in his own mind might help, although I'm not sure it would have been effective enough. And honestly I'm glad he wasn't this broken after all.

So yeah that was fun to realize :')

Also Edwin doesn't handle change well, as we know from Charles' words. How jarring (beside the obvious) was it to be tossed from one demon to another? I bet the "punishment" changed, too. It must have felt devastating to figure out the way of handling one and get more used to it, more mentally stable, however horrible it might be, - just to be thrown into a completely new situation.

Let's add insult to the injury, shall we? Look at the corridors Edwin was kept in. The greenish hue, the dim light that makes even the most spacious halls feel claustraphobic. It feels heavy, weights on your mind. There are no windows, no outside, forever. It's suffocating. This place is a pure torture on its own, even without demon doll head spiders.

All in all, I didn't like Edwin much when I first started watching, but after completing the series and rewatching on top of that, I admire him. To go through all these horrors and get out of them is worth that on its own. But Edwin retained his kindness, compassion, moral compass and a will to help others in need. He didn't grow callous, didn't lock himself away emotionally from the world fearing to be hurt again - at least not completely, not even close. I really didn't expect to come to respect and admire a teenage series character like that.

This show has a heart in it, it's living and beating and big and kind, and its characters reflect that in full.

[sol-consort]

Omg do you think humans don’t vibe with the Asari as much as they do with literally every other species is because we know where we stand with everyone else?

We don't vibe with asari? I mean, I have personal beef with them bc of how they handled ME3, but besides that, the asari have been a little delightful, pretentious, but charming still. It's hard to stay mad at someone so pretty.

But you have a point, humans and turians mingle more often than humans and asari. Hell, humans and krogans seem to have much more fun. Even salarians enjoy our food and culture... but the asari are just there.

I think humanity's lack of "special" bond with asari is because...well, the asari can't exploit us in a way that matters.

LISTEN—listen okay. So, each species the asari are close with "lacks" certain things. Salarians with their imbalance 90/10 male to female ratio meaning a lot of them will never get married, Krogans inability to have kids because of the genophage, Vorcha with their limit 20y lifespan and underdeveloped society, Quarians living in poverty and requiring, expensive antibiotics, environmental suit and its maintenance costs to stay alive.

And the asari take advantage of that. Not always malicious, but they feel inclined to meddle within each species and attempt to fill the empty spaces in order to advance their own society.

Many salarians marry asari, said asari not minding since they'll outlive them.

Krogans who desperately want kids, the one thing the asari can give them.

The vorcha whom they actually enslaved and exploited for years, who couldn't defend themselves in court because the asari would just stall the case until the vorcha eventually dies, not to mention the fact they kept them illiterate and uneducated on purpose.

Swindling someone out of their money in Thessia is not a crime, there are zero laws to defend the customer, everyone is trying to scam everyone and quarians always get the short end of the stick and end up signing up for things they don't understand, drowning in debt until the asari sells them to a different company they must work for like a slave.

The asari are parasitic by nature. They find a weakness within a species and exploit it to advance their own. They're probably not aware of it, nor do it intentionally, but this is the reality of their existence.

A race that requires a different species to reproduce will always only prosper on the suffering of others. A Cuckoo is very beautiful, but it can't build its own nest, so it lays eggs in other birds' nest and tricks them into raising its own. A brood parasite. As the chick hatches, it will push the other eggs off of the nest, ensuring it's the only one that remains.

They can dress up their society as much as they like, swear by the goddess, adorn all the titles of justicar and else. Speak with eloquence and act with grace. They still are opportunistic parasites at their core.

Humans are self-fulfilling, everything the asari can offer us—both the good and the bad—we already have ourselves. Even our biotics research advancement reaches a stage in ME3 where the asari asks to have a look at it.

We like the asari, but we don't need them.

Not to mention the whole brainwashing thing to make themselves seem the most appealing to your brain, tricking you into viewing them as very similar to your species—yeah we glossed over that we too quickly.

It could also just be the Mass Effect storywriters keeping them a blank page on purpose, all the stuff about the asari intricate world, brutal capitalist society, inner conflict, civil wars as several groups demand isolation from the rest of the aliens, the fact they can easily birth bloodthirsty demon like biotics, or the whole racism issue based on who the father is, all of that is swiftly swept under the rug fot the "hot human-lite all-women alien species."

The turians are also a species that seemingly doesn't lack anything.

Sure, they can be a little uptight and too military centred, but they seem uh happy with their mandatory bootcamps for kids?

So them and the asari don't mingle much, they are on good terms but asari don't often go for turians, and it's true the other way around as well.

You see more human/turian couples than asari/turian ones in Mass Effect.

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

Hey new to the aphmau fandom, like days old, and i was wondering what order to watch her rps as its kinda confusing to me

This is going to be such a long post because there’s so much to say! (There is a TLDR at the end if you don’t care about specifics and just want a watch order)

The inclusion of side-series and stuff just convolutes things a tad. But I promise, you will get an answer.

First;

I suggest a side series to start. Which isn’t to say that they’re all short, they’re just not relevant to the Big Two.

But, yeah, just dip your toe in the pool first.

Dreams of Estorra- never watched it. But it’s popular. It should be on the Aphmau Stories channel instead of her main one, if you can’t find it there. If someone can offer me a summary for it I would love you.

A Royal Tale- a weird mishmash of Disney and the Aphverse. A lighthearted fantasy show with some adult humour, Lo (< an icon), and romance. It will introduce you to some of the characters from the other series without overwhelming you with references you won’t understand. Aarmau, but they’re exes who hate eachother. It’s only a roleplay

Mermaids Tale- similar thing to ART, a mermaid au for Aphverse. Very Aarmau centric, there’s lesbian mermaids. I cant actually remember the plot but it got me into my train (the singer) phase. It’s only a roleplay

Mod Mod world- never watched it, but it did get a sequel that I’ll bring up later. Again, would love a summary from someone.

My Inner Demons- it’s one of the only non-aphmau centric shows and doesn’t include ANY aphverse characters. The main character is Ava, and it’s set up like a Harem Anime with a bunch of male demon love interests for her. It has quite adult humour, but it’s pretty cute aesthetically and deserves a second season. It’s only a roleplay

HeartPoint- a girl sees how much people like her platonically and romantically by little stats that appear above their heads. I believe Aphmau is the only Aphverse character, and whilst the romance is pretty obvious to me, I’ll leave who she ends up with blank as that’s kind of a part of the series… iirc. It’s only a roleplay.

There may be more… I’ll have to look.

Anyways.

So.

Onto the behemoths.

Minecraft Diaries is the first of the Roleplays to really get her popularity. It’s a medieval fantasy, with both roleplay and let’s play elements in it. It ran for three seasons, seasons one and two being 100 episodes each, however season 3 ended short. It was never completed. Season three is regarded as the worst season, and most either don’t consider it canon or haven’t watched it at all, but I consider it canon solely because it introduces us Lo, who I love. The two main ships when it was popular were Laurmau and Garmau, and if it weren’t for MyS, they probably still would be treated as such.

If you want to watch the main series in chronological order, I would watch MCD first. It is my favourite tho so maybe I’m biased. The lore can be contradictory and the quality slowly improves over time. It started to get remade with Rebirth, which you can watch before hand to get a general gist of the show before you dive into it, though it isn’t incredibly accurate to how the original is. Seasons 1-2 are on Aphmau’s main channel (I think), but season 3 is on Aphmau Stories. You don’t need to watch MyStreet but, you will probably end up watching it anyways.

Brief intermission: Void Paradox. The Mod Mod world sequel, is also a side series for MCD s1, and was made years afterwards. Very high quality, probably one of the better side series in general, and deserved a continuation. MMW isn’t required to watch it, but for context on Laurence and what’s up with him, MCD s1 is.

The next is MyStreet. It started as a modern Au for Diaries with the side stories and The Big Move, however began to be made into its own series. It begins as a slice of life, and is very light hearted with an Aarmau emphasis. It faces a genre swap for Season 4, before reverting to a slightly more solemn version of what it once was, before it goes back to a darker vibe for s6. Until s6, it existed in a separate universe to MCD, and you don’t need to watch MCD to understand it (though it does provide some context for s6)

There are prequels and side series (and a three episode sequel, which is fun). PDH is the main one, and because MyS was made first, they can contradict, however you will need to watch PDH S2 for context for MyS S4. Otherwise you won’t know the villain or understand what the fuck he’s doing. After them, there is PDH: Graduation days, and FalconClaw University. Neither are particularly important, but again, FCU offers some context for s4, so… you could watch it. It’s just not mandatory. There’s Aphmau’s year after s4, which is just a recovery mini-season, and there’s Her Wish which was released before s6, but set after it. And I will give them credit, they did preplan when they wrote her wish and watching it after s6 and realising everything they did to retain continuity… oh it’s good. Her wish does require watching MCD S3/late s2 though, it won’t make sense without it.

TLDR;

If a series isn’t Void Paradox, Mystreet, MCD, Phoenix Drop High or FalconClaw Uni, you can just watch it whenever.

MCD / PDH / MYS is my personal favourite watch order, because it’s all chronological. But just go with whatever you vibe with!

MCD is the OG and fantasy Medieval, but is a mix of roleplay and let’s play, and doesn’t have entirely consistent lore. It has a partial remake and it’s final, incomplete season, sucked.

PDH is higher quality and a highschool drama with fantasy undertones but less relevant, and is a prequel for MyS

MYS is the most popular and is a slice of life with more fantasy undertones, as well as very high quality, but suffers through genre swaps, and requires some context from the other two in later seasons.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Please Tanco, can you tell us about Honeybee Dabi's backstory?

I didn't proofread this and it's 2am! If there are mistakes we kindly advert our eyes!! TW: Past torture, past sexual assault, for the most part none of this is in graphic detail, but yeah, there's some sad and dark shit in there. (I had to put a space between every bullet because Tumblr wouldn't recognize each one as its own text block otherwise, oops)

So Honeybees live in hives when they're growing up, and like adolescent succubi/incubi, the older members of their hive take care of them by bringing back energy from their feedings to give to the younger ones. When Dabi was twelve, he picked a fight with one of his hivemates who was set to become the next leader of their group, because he was thought to be too sickly and too bad at talking to others to be able to be in that position of power. Instead of just getting a stern talking to, or sent out of the hive, one of the older members decided they didn't want to risk him finding a new hive and taking over there and eventually coming back to oust their new leader while he was still developing, so he arranged for Dabi to be taken through the rift by Signetworks. 

Signetworks was a company that is an offshoot of a bigger corporation that has been around since before The Great Ascension. They had the capital and ability to gather more and more demons for study throughout the Ascension and wanted to experiment on them to figure out how to kill demons, how to weaponize/control them, how to use their abilities for humanity's gain, and how to contain them. They got most of their early test subjects by making underhanded deals with other demons who wanted their competition gone so they could have an easier time of progressing their own goals. 

So Dabi was sold off to this company at 12 and they did a lot of horrible things to him for many years. All because he was a rowdy kid. He never got over that, and never lost his attitude no matter how badly he was hurt. The marking across his body would have developed anyway once he was deeper in puberty, but one of the tests they ran was to try and harvest the bioluminescent cells from his tissue that resulted in a lot of pain and made the markings form in the blown-out irregular shapes that they are in now. 

The worst of all of the things that Signetworks ever did to him was when he was just finishing his transition into adulthood and his wings had finally finished emerging from his back. They didn't know how to handle a demon with wings like his. Most other demonic species who have wings tend to have bat wings or bird wings, and bat wings can be broken, and bird wings can be clipped, which tended to be their go-to. But Dabi's outer wings were hard shells, and they didn't have the anatomy that they were used to dealing with. So one day when Dabi was deliriously hungry and they sent in someone to feed him, they had him face down, and when his wings flared involuntarily, they tried to cut them off at the roots. It didn't work immediately, so they called in other people to hold them open as different tools were brought to try and carve them off of his back, but even though it hurt, he bled, and his skin was torn open badly, they couldn't actually find any human tool that could cut through the bone and inner connective tissue to sever them from his back. 

They kept his wings restrained for the rest of the time he was trapped with them, and when he was eventually freed, he was half feral, terrified of humans, mistrusting of other demons, and horribly malnourished with extreme trauma around eating. He nearly died before the people responsible for holding him until whatever the situation with Signetworks was managed to work out what to do with the demons they'd liberated, figured out that he could consume semen without having to be actively involved in the production of it. 

When everything with Signetworks went to court, both on the mortal plane and the infernal one, Dabi was given the choice to stay in the human realm or go back to the demonic one. He stayed on Earth because the demon who had traded him had somehow side-stepped any and all responsibility over the incident. He didn't want to go back and be cleaned up like a loose end.

Since he stayed with humans, humans assigned him a counselor to help him deal with all of that trauma, which ended up being Atsuhiro. He's been working with Dabi for six years, and after just six months, and far before Dabi was ready for it, it was decided that he would have to become a functioning member of society if he wanted to stay on this plane. He had no skills, was too jumpy to do anything, and didn't know what else to do, so when Ambrosia Cosmetics came and offered him a job, he felt like he didn't have any choice but to say 'yes'. (Dabi also met Toga going in and out of Atsuhiro's practice. She's a half-demon that her family hates because she was born of an affair, though it's unclear if an incubus impersonated her mother's husband or if she just straight up cheated, either way, she's not having a good time for entirely different reasons. She's the one who gave Dabi the firefly plush that he keeps in his apartment.)

He found out early on that whatever Signetworks did to him, made him produce way, way more venom and honey than the average bee, and that him being a good producer is all that the company cared about. He could make his demands and mostly get what he wanted so long as he was the best producer. But Ambrosia always pushed at his boundaries. He would always just be struggling to get by with a pollinator, not ever actually enjoying his meals because he never had any guarantee that they would actually listen to him or be able to control themselves when his hyper-potent venom got into their systems. Sometimes they would be okay for a while, but eventually they always got to a point where they would want to fuck him in a position he didn't like, or grab at him in a way that was too similar to what would happen when he was a prisoner, and he wouldn't be able to get them away from him fast enough for his instincts to not rear up and have him lashing out. 

He kept Atsuhiro on to try and get better about all of that, which is definitely part of the reason Ambrosia didn't give him the boot, but he never seemed to be doing better fast enough. He still tried though, making friends with the half-demon security guy who made his door a little more in his control for the first time in his life. He tried to do his job and be good. But it was hard, it sucked, and he never lost his attitude because he was constantly terrified that if he broke down the way he could feel sitting on the edge of his nerves, that he would fall apart and never be able to put himself back together again. 

Then in comes Tomura who kind of gave him the same measured, calm vibes as Atsuhiro, but different in the sense that he didn't hesitate to take control of the situation, tell him off for his attitude, and then demand in the most gentle way for Dabi to just let himself let go. He gave him his venom and he didn't turn mean, he didn't stop checking in or stop listening to him, he didn't hurt him, didn't abandon him when he started to fall apart. He just stayed and stayed kind. He took care of him, feeding him, made sure that he was alright, never moved too fast. It was easy to latch onto him, just for a little while, just until he got mean. 

But he stayed that good to him over time, and by the end of the first month that they were paired together, Dabi admitted that he could never fully relax and enjoy himself at the farm because he knew he wasn't ever really safe or in private there. At any moment, even with his extra lock, someone could just barge in. There were cameras to make sure that he wasn't going to kill anyone after his past incidents, he only ever got to leave the facility to go see Atsuhiro for his therapy, and the company didn't even like letting him do that. They tried to get him to switch to a therapist they hired, and when he wouldn't, they only let him go in a company car that had a very tight schedule so he could never go anywhere after his sessions and had to be stressed out the entire time he was there that he might go over. 

Tomura didn't tell him that this wasn't his business, that he didn't care about that stuff as long as Dabi was still a warm hole to fuck, he heard him, said 'They can't treat you like that', and by the end of the week had gotten Dabi a cellphone so he could call for cabs on his own, made sure that Dabi could actually see and more easily access the money that he was making from selling his honey, had gotten permission for them to go off-site for their sessions, and had... given him a key so that he could come to Tomura's apartment when he wanted to be somewhere else for a while. He'd apologized because he knew that wasn't exactly private, but he did have a guest room with a lock on the door, and he wouldn't ever, ever open it, not unless Dabi told him he could or the building was actively on fire or collapsing. 

Dabi essentially moved in as soon as he did that, and by the end of the second month, Tomura listened to him again when he said he didn't want to be doing the work he was for Ambrosia. He didn't ask what he would do instead, didn't demand that he have a new job, didn't threaten to kick him out, he just listened, promised that he would keep listening if Dabi thought this over and wanted to talk it out, and told him that he loved him. He didn't know that all he had to do to leave was write a letter. But he looked up how to as soon as his lover was out the door and wrote it. He called up Shuichi and Toga to help him get his shit together, and by the end of the day, he had all of his boxes in Tomura's spare room.

In a few more months, Dabi will be selling his honey to some club his lover used to go to, only when he feels like it, Tomura will still be sweet to him, and there will be a moth plush sitting on their bookshelf alongside his firefly. In a year Dabi will manage to tell Tomura that he loves him. In three, he'll be able to let Tomura fuck him from behind with his lips pressed against the scars that are carved into his back. 

[sepublic]

Given how much we roll with Samus having a ton of self-loathing due to the deaths of so many loved ones by the time of Fusion... Let's do even more with that.

The SA-X is terrifying, and part of that comes from it being a soulless, unspeaking, automaton; Samus without any of the soul. But we also know the X can copy memories, and granted it's possible the X never got to access Samus' brain, and wouldn't have those as the SA-X.

But what if they still somehow did? We know there's more than one SA-X; About ten, Adam calculates. So maybe one of them is cold and unfeeling... But what if another is Samus' own self-loathing personified, externalized?

The X are clever; What if this SA-X voices all of Samus' doubts towards her. Tortures her psychologically to throw Samus off her game, because the X know that self-doubt can cause more intelligent creatures to underperform. What if we have an SA-X that asks aloud all the questions that Samus hates about herself; If she's such a hero, why are so many of her friends and family dead? Why does she destroy everything she touches?

This plays into Samus' self-destructive action in blowing up the BSL with herself aboard, because she's convinced herself she can't do anything right, so it doesn't matter if this doesn't actually eradicate the X on SR388. And then Adam, this computerized copy who is supposed to be cold logic, actually speaks through to Samus by acting more objective and reminding her; There are other ways to do this, and you don't need to die. And then he begins to rediscover himself.

And it's like a parallel because computer Adam is also a clone copying the memories and personality of an original, albeit a manmade, digital mimic. And Adam and the SA-X start off as cold and unfeeling, but then rediscover emotions; In the SA-X's case, they're cruel and ultimately meant more as a parroted echo of Samus' self-hatred, for an ulterior, practical motive of defeating the enemy at any cost. For Adam, it's him learning to live and love again, and save a friend from the fate he technically already went through, and can't truly come back from.

But yeah, imagine the SA-X constantly guilt-tripping Samus... Bringing up her parents, and then Gray Voice. Not to mention Rundas, Ghor, and Gandrayda. The Metroids, especially the Infant. Zebes. Adam Malkovich. Belittling, dismissing, undermining Samus' achievements, insisting those she did help and save, like the Luminoth or Old Bird, will follow suit eventually. She became Ridley when she eradicated the Ing, who just wanted to survive, and left only one baby Metroid alive.

It gaslights Samus, which adds to the paranoia of not knowing what to believe, what's real, with the X mimicking things and the Federation lying to Samus; Plus her projecting Adam onto what she believed was just a computer. She's really going through it, and for a while it's actually working in throwing Samus off of her game, and she already lost all her upgrades!

It's basically Samus fighting her inner demons; Not just this caricature of her as something that is only a weapon and destroyer, but her own feelings of inadequacy, the guilt, the loneliness, the tendency to push others away for fear of hurting them too. And the suicidal ideation. And eventually she conquers both of these takes on her that actually go hand in hand, and comes out stronger with her identity rediscovered and reclaimed, hence the removal of the helmet to reveal Samus within, and her Fusion suit resembling the classic Varia color scheme now.

[super-ion]

Such Lovely Fur

Chapter 2

[chapter 1 || chapter 3 | chapter 4 ]

“I don't even know your name!” I gasp over breakfast.

The demon blinks at me in surprise from her corner of the shallow cave that we shared the previous night. She is hunched over the carcass of a rabbit and I watch in morbid fascination as she plucks out the heart and pops it into her mouth.

“You… do have a name, don't you?” I ask.

“Aye,” she responds as she chews. “But I have yet to meet a human who can pronounce the language of my people.”

“So, what do I call you?”

She narrows her eyes at me as she swallows.

“Why?” she asks cautiously.

“If we're going to travel together, I can't just keep calling you ‘the demon’ can I? I am afraid I've been terribly rude and you have been…”

I run my fingers through the fur on my arms, taking a moment to marvel at the softness as I have many times in the night.

I realize that she is watching me with a bemused expression and I force my hands to my lap.

“You have been nothing but helpful,” I finish with a blush.

She raises an eyebrow, knowing full well that she had been nothing but crass and mischievous the entire time.

“Well… when you put it that way…” she says with a smirk. “I suppose you may call me Rook.”

“Rook?” I ask. “Like the bird?”

“A very fine, upstanding bird,” she says.

I have some doubts regarding that assertion, but who am I to judge?

And… having asked for hers, propriety dictates that I give her mine.

“I am Astra,” I say.

It likely is not very good practice to tell your name to a demon, but seeing as I have already entered a bargain with her, what harm could it do?

I pack my meager supplies and together we step out into the chill. The blizzard has momentarily paused its relentless onslaught and the air sits silent and heavy on the landscape. The air is still unnaturally frigid, but with my new coat, the cold doesn't bite quite as deeply.

“May I ask you a question?” I ask nervously as we set out.

“You just did. But yeah, go ahead and ask another.”

“You asked me yesterday if I was a man or a woman or something else. What else could there be?”

She narrows her eyes at me, searching my confused expression.

“A person can be any number of things,” she says, “both or neither or something else entirely. Take me for example, I'm whatever I feel like on any particular day. Girl today, but maybe tomorrow I feel different.”

I gawk at her.

“I've… never heard of such a thing.”

She furrows her brow.

“Alright," she says. "Let me ask you something. You were born a boy, were you not? Surely your society tolerates such things?”

“We are an enlightened society,” I say. “But a man is a man and a woman is a woman and it would not be proper to force someone to be something they are not. As is customary for people of my station, upon my sixth and twelfth birthdays, I was presented with a choice between male and female. I chose female as dictated by my inner truth and I was raised as such. I was given a woman's education to fulfill my proper role in society. Sometimes someone doesn't know until later in life, but there are policies in place to accommodate such a thing.”

“How… quaint?” she says with a look of genuine bafflement. “And your whole entire identity is tied up in rigidly defined gender roles imposed by said ‘enlightened’ society?”

I open my mouth to respond, but close it again. she is right.

“Tell me, is it a woman's role to rescue her husband-to-be from a witch?”

The barb lands home and I stiffen. I knew that having this discussion with a demon would be a mistake. I should have heeded my own advice and avoided this topic entirely.

“Do you even want to marry him?” she presses. “Because you have told me of the desires of your society and your family and your bridegroom, but you have told me nothing about your own desires.”

“What I want is inconsequential,” I say, more sulkily than I intend.

She looks at me with something very much like pity, but she holds her tongue for once.

We continue on in sullen silence, me trudging through the snow, her fluttering overhead between rocky outcroppings and stunted trees. The path narrows, traversing treacherous switchbacks and finally entering a narrow ravine.

It is just past midday when the fears that have crept their way into my consciousness are realized. We come around a bed in the ravine only to find that a landslide has blocked the way.

I stare at the rubble and the sheer rock walls in dismay. There is no way I could possibly climb this safely. I could attempt it, but for my efforts, I would receive bloodied fingers at best and a broken neck at worst.

“I could ask for wings?” I suggest to Rook.

She makes a pained face.

“Yeah, you don't want wings. My cousin once gave a man wings. He screamed in agony for hours. First I would have to break all of your ribs and your sternum and your arms and your-”

“Okay, I got it,” I grumble. “Maybe you can carry me?”

“No can do,” she replies. “I can only grant you boons to help yourself. I can't do the work for you.”

I sigh. I know where this is going.

“So, you're saying I need something to help me climb.”

“Yup.”

“Something like claws?”

“Yup.”

I look at my hands. The fur is something I can manage. Claws will be much more difficult to hide. Will my betrothed even accept me if I arrive to rescue him with the claws of a beast?

I shove the thought aside. Of course he will. He has to, doesn't he?

“Fine, let's just get this over with,” I mumble and close my eyes.

I feel the jolt and this time the magic takes the form of an ache in my bones. Despite her prior warning, I let my mind wander elsewhere, desperately seeking solace from the discomfort.

My thoughts wander to when I was a child, and my mother took me to a zoological exposition. I remember being fascinated by all of the strange and exotic animals, but one in particular held my attention more than any other. I must have spent an hour staring at that leopard, captivated by the fluid ease in which it moved, leaping and climbing within its enclosure. I remember trying to imagine such a creature in its own native environment, unconstrained by the bars that caged it. The idea of that freedom stuck in the back of my mind like a splinter for years afterwards.

When the transformation ends and the ache fades, I survey the changes with a weary sigh. My hands are now very nearly paws, more animal than human. My feet are even more so, as I discover when I kick off the shoes that now dig into them uncomfortably. I flex my fingers and toes, watching in fascination as pale, razor sharp claws emerge.

Rook is staring at me. I am expecting smugness, but her expression is uncharacteristically stricken.

I then become aware of the strange weight on my backside, and sensation where there should be none. Dread settles into the pit of my stomach as I crane my neck and pull up the hem of my dress to look at a tail covered with the same spotted silver-grey fur as the rest of me.

I glare at Rook.

"You gave me a tail!?" I shout.

She raises her hands placatingly.

"No... I mean, not on purpose..."

My tail begins thrashing behind me in agitation, the alien feeling of its motion bringing me to tears.

"How am I supposed to hide this?" I demand.

"I didn't do it," she insists. "This was not at all my intention."

"What do you mean, you didn't do it? It was your magic!"

She gasps indignantly, fluffing up her feathers to appear larger. She thrusts a clawed finger at me, pointing accusingly.

"Yes, but you are the one to will the change. Your imagination got away from you, didn't it? What part of ‘try not to think’ did you not understand?"

I am now quivering with rage. I flex my new claws, feeling them emerge and retract dangerously.

"My imagination? You're the one who gave me leopard spotted fur in the first place!”

“That also wasn't on purpose,” she pleads. “But you do have to admit-”

I've heard enough. With a snarl, I pounce at her, catching her off guard. I make contact and she goes down with a squawk.

I find myself on top of her, my paws pinning her shoulders, my face inches from hers as I bare my teeth and snarl menacingly. She stares up at me, panting slightly. When she does finally recover from her initial surprise, her expression doesn't shift to fear, but something altogether different.

“My, what big teeth you have,” she says with a sultry voice.

It is enough to cut through the fog of my anger and I clap a hand over my mouth as I roll off of her.

What on earth had come over me? It was completely improper for me to have lashed out like that. It went against every lesson in etiquette and decorum I had ever been given.

And to make matters worse, my canines are longer.

What am I going to do??

“I will say that was quite a pounce, little cat,” Rook says as she dusts herself off. “As I was saying before so rudely being interrupted - you have to admit that tail of yours will come in quite handy for balance on the climb. I do believe that you have just proven that exact point.”

I stop feeling at my teeth with my tongue and look back to my tail once more. The pounce had been effortless, fueled by instinct more than anything else. She is right of course. I would need all the tools at my disposal to face this obstacle.

The only problem is my dress. I flick my tail experimentally, watching and feeling as it snags against the fabric. The fine material is already frayed and ragged from my journey so far and it surely will not fare well against the jagged rocks ahead anyway.

“Turn around,” I tell Rook.

She cocks her head, and watches as I unsling my pack.

“Please?” I add belatedly.

She smirks and turns her back, giving me a modicum of privacy as I strip down to my small clothes. My chemise is still far too long to be useful, so I am regrettably forced to tear wide strips off of it until it is scandalously short. But… liberated from my dress and wearing naught but my leggings and a makeshift tunic, I feel… I feel…

Rook is staring at me. Her eyes glitter hungrily and she smiles her sharp tooth smile as her gaze traces up the shape of my legs.

My face heats, but I hold her gaze as I shove my cloak into my pack. It will only get in the way and within the relative shelter of the ravine it is hardly necessary with all my fur.

Unfortunately the dress will take up far too much room and will thus need to be left behind.

I am surprised to find that I do not care.

I sling my pack over my shoulders and look at my paws. I flex my claws and meet Rook’s gaze once more. I flash her a toothy grin before quickly turning and making a running leap for the boulders that block the path.

“Hey!” she shouts after me and I hear her begin to flap her wings.

But I'm already scrambling across the rocks. My claws find purchase where my fingers never could. Some deep primal instinct brought on by the transformation tells me where to place my paws, how to orient my tail to best balance my leaps and navigate narrow precipices with feline grace. Soon my heart is thundering and my lungs burn, each breath coming out in a great cloud.

I have never felt so alive.

I crest the top of the rockfall when Rook’s shadow falls over me. I pause for a moment to look back at her, a great dark shape blocking out the sun. I am briefly captivated by the way the light refracts through her feathers. I have to admit to myself that I have caught myself admiring the powerful muscles in her shoulders and chest that power those wings.

She starts to dive, sailing over me smooth and deadly.

I return my attention to the slope and make my next leap. In my descent, I find myself on all fours more often than not. It just feels right in a way I cannot put into words.

I reach the bottom just as Rook flutters to land atop a stray boulder. She studies me with a gleam in her eyes.

“Not bad, little cat,” she says with a grin. “Not bad at all.”

(next chapter)

[n0blefl0wer]

My Marauders era analysis of The Black Dog

Marauders fans are so excited about Taylor Swift having a song named The Black Dog. And yeah it’s cool cause Sirius is a black dog and Taylor’s Mskingbean89.

But I’m here to ruin your fun.

The Black Dog is about Nobleflower after Narcissa’s engagement to Lucius.

Here goes nothing:

I am someone who until recent events You shared your secrets with {...} And so I watch as you walk Into some bar called The Black Dog And pierce new holes in my heart

Narcissa knows that Alice is hurting, and that it's all her fault. And while she chose to go through with the engagement, she's still mourning not just the physical intimacy, but the emotional intimacy she shared with Alice.

I just don't understand how you don't miss me In the Black Dog When Someone plays 'the starting line' and you jump up, but she's too young to know this song that was intertwined in the magic fabric of our dreaming

It baffles Narcissa how Alice can seem to move on so quickly from what was a life-altering love for Narcissa.

Old Habits die screaming

This speaks for itself. It feels wrong to call Alice a habit, but she was. And she was so much more. But it was easy for Narcissa to love her. It was as easy and natural as breathing. Now that she's had to give up that habit, everything else feels wrong without Alice in her life. It's a near indescribable pain.

I move through the world with the heartbroken {...} And I may never open up the way i did for you And all of those best laid plans

Here it's confirmed what we've known, Narcissa is heartbroken after losing the love of her life. And while she was quick to get engaged to Lucius, she knows it will never come anywhere close to what she felt for Alice. She'll never feel that way, that safe, with anyone ever again. And while she felt she did the right thing by following her parents' wishes (the best laid plans) it wasn't the right thing for her.

you said i needed a brave man then proceeded to play him until i believed it too and it kills me

Alice would often joke about how Narcissa needed some great man from a great pureblood family to complete her. So she began to jokingly "take car" of Narcissa, but that eventually evolved into a loving, devoted relationship until Narcissa believed she didn't need to marry. So it was a rude awakening to both her and Alice when Lucius proposed.

Do you hate me? Was it hazing? For a cruel fraternity I pledged And I still mean it Old habits die screaming

After spending so much time with her own thoughts, in her own depression, Narcissa begins to take on a scorned (some might say brainwashed) view of the relationship. She starts to blame Alice for it all. But despite the pain she knew she would face, she still entered into that relationship with Alice. And she begins to wish she never did, but those thoughts mix with the lasting feeling of love she felt.

Six weeks of breathing clean air i still miss the smoke

Even though everyone tells her its better for her to be with Lucius, she still misses the love of her life

were you making fun of me with some esoteric joke?

Narcissa's not stupid. She knows that Alice blames her for it all burning down. And she knows Alice will only shit-talk Cissa among her close friends.

Now I want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes

Narcissa is at such a dark spot in her depression here. Everything reminds her of Alice and she just can't take it

And hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons even if i die screaming And i hope you hear it

While in that deep, dark depression, Narcissa contemplates hiring a priest to get rid of her inner 'demons' that she's battling. But the idea that she might die screaming heavily insinuates that those demons - the memories with Alice - are too much to leave behind; they're so deeply ingrained in her that they make up the fabric of her being. Narcissa hoping Alice hears it is a pivotal moment in the song. She wants Alice to hear the pain that would be caused if those memories were to be ripped from her

And I hope it's shitty in The Black Dog When someone plays 'The Starting Line ' and you jump up, but she's too young to know this song That was intertwined in the tragic fabric of our dreaming cause tail between your legs your leavin'

This mirrors the first chorus, except it’s more angry. Narcissa hopes Alice doesn’t just miss her, but is miserable in those moments that remind her of what she had.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Inkubus x AFAB!Reader x Norman Nordstrom || Headcanons [Part 1?]

Topic: Imagine living next door to Norman, who's slowly falling in obsession love with you (Sweet, young, fertile, trusting you), when suddenly you're dating cocky, suspicious, asshole- 'Klaus'.

Basically you're naïve and too trusting and so you're being targeted by a creepy old man with a breeding kink and also now a spooky old sex demon. And they're both territorial. Goodluck-

Warnings: Mentions of obsession, breeding kink, boners, reacting badly to the friendzone- and that's all just Norman 😅XD Inkubus' warnings include being two-faced as hell between you and Norman, and a little bit of non consensual exhibitionism... General smutty themes, possessiveness and age difference for both throughout.

🥀 Norman started to notice you as soon as you moved in next door. You came over with M&M cookies and introduced yourself as Y/N, and didn't once act weird about his blindness. You were effortlessly kind, and the sound of your cheerful voice was honestly enough to make him a little hard. It always would.

🥀 He wishes now that when he invited you in for tea that first day, and his front door closed behind your all-too-willing back, that he had locked it. That he hadn't let you leave. That he had made a move.

🥀 ... alas, he didn't. And for a while that was okay, because he would get up early in the morning to sit on the front porch with Shadow so you would see him and come over on your way out to work- just to say hey, and ask him how he's doing, and pet Shadow. You would also see him on your way home again, because he learnt your schedule.

🥀This turned into having dinners together almost every day of the week because he said he was cooking and invited you to come in and eat with a lonely old man. Pretty soon you were eating at his place two- three- sometimes four nights a week.

🥀 Then he started to say that if you wanted- you could stay over on the couch after dinner. He would act all grumpy and like he doesn't really care, but you thought he was just the sweetest, grouchiest old man so, you did. Which turned into breakfasts together, too.

🥀 And he was so damn pleased. You were playing directly into his hands.

🥀 He was living his best life, actually 😅 He had you in his home with him, chatting to him in that ever-cheery way and touching him and eating with him- it was like having his wife around again. Norman's life was bright again ^^

🥀 Sure- he knew that as far as you were concerned, this was only friendship. The touches you shared were purely friendly and honestly a little bit delicate on your end (Like you're afraid to break him, like he's an old man. A fragile old man. Like that's how you saw him- which was admittedly less then ideal), and he never dared to go too far with you- but what he had with you was enough. For now, he thought. Eventually yes, he would want to have a baby with you (He had decided), but that could wait.

🥀 Norman did not see anything happening to jeopardise that. He had plans for the two of you and those were going to come true- they had to. He was sure of it. He needed this.

🥀 He needed you.

🥀 ... But then the absolute worst thing happened. The thing that made Norman's inner soundtrack warp from Justin Timberlake's 'Cant Stop The Feeling!' to the first bars in 'Highway to Hell' real fricken quick. And what was that thing? The worst thing that could possibly happen to Norman? The thing you did- that you brought home one night without even telling him- that wrecked his world???

🥀 A dark, mysterious, handsome stranger called 'Klaus'. Yeah... Klaus. Look you know who we're talking about here, okay? But he's going by Klaus right now so just go with it.

🥀 You were dating. Y/N, Norman's Y/N- his sweetheart, his future spouse, his light- was dating.

🥀 And it wasn't like you were dating a kid your own age (20's) who you had no chemistry with apart from liking the same music and 'Tik Tok's. No no no.

🥀 That would be one thing. That he could forgive. Soon enough the mess would be behind the two of you and you would realise how much better Norman is then some immature boy. You would laugh about it.

🥀 ... But no. You were dating an older man (That part really kicked Norman in the gut. He was worried all this time that you weren't being with him because he was so much older, and that he would have to acclimatise you- but that wasn't the case at all! Clearly, you liked older men. Just not him- ) who made you laugh on your front doorstep and who had you in a better mood all the damn time now- Even when he wasn't around. You would be sitting with Norman at his dinner table and you would just think of this, this 'Klaus', and you would go quiet, and sometimes giggle. And Norman was sure that if he touched you (Like he so wanted to!!)- your cheeks would be red hot, too.

🥀 Norman was so frustrated, and if you were a more suspicious person then you would have noticed how quiet and gruff he would get when you mentioned Klaus. But you weren't, you just thought your friend Norman was going through something. Or he was uncomfortable talking about your romantic life- which was just fine ^^

🥀And that wasn't the only thing you weren't noticing, either.

🥀Klaus had enough red flags to equip an army. He was more subtle about it then Norman could ever be, sure, but that wasn't saying much.

🥀 Klaus looked at you like a meal, so much so that waiters worried about you going home with him. Every second sentence out of his mouth was a double innuendo that you didn't quite get but brushed off as an odd sense of humour. He always seemed to have a smooth excuse for acting oddly. And somehow he knew your name before you ever said it???? This is not all but its enough for any normal person to say nope and get out- but not you. Unfortunately, no, not you.

🥀 ... Norman definitely noticed, though. He and Klaus met pretty early on in your new relationship, as Norman would hang out with his gun on the front porch for you to come home late at night after a date. He was always itching to shoot Klaus. Klaus new damn well, too, and loved it.

🥀 You introduced your lovely, grouchy best friend and Klaus all-sweetly, having them shake hands like gentlemen as you kneeled down to pet Shadow.

🥀 While you were looking away they entered the GORIEST of eye-contact battles. Norman was saying through his eyes that he doesn't trust the other man for one damn second and he better back off you, as he subtly tapped the shotgun resting in his lap. Any norman man would've feared Norman, would've left you in the dust- but unfortunately, for Norman, he wasnt even dealing with a man.

🥀Klaus' laughing eyes pretty much just thought back... this should be fun.

🥀 He wasn't about to let an old blind soldier threaten him- but he also wasn't going to take it too seriously. Why would he? Clearly, your friend was in love with you... or at least wanted to fuck you. He could use that. Of course, you were his target. You were what mattered... Any enjoyment Klaus would get out of rubbing it into the Norman's tired old face that you were with him (inviting him to your bedroom at night, batting your pretty eyelashes at him, laughing at his jokes) instead- would just have to simply be a glorious bonus.

🥀 And ohhhhhhhhh did he rub it in. He really did. Klaus took every oppertunity that he got to show off, using Norman's evidently advanced hearing against him in the worst way.

🥀 ... so yes. 'Klaus'... being a literal demon... took to leaving the windows open when you would sleep together. And he would try to do it on the lower level of your house, just to make it that little bit easier for the old blind man next door to hear. To be tortured. To hopefully fall asleep to your sounds that intoxicate- when they aren't for him.

🥀 IN FACT- Klaus snuck into Norman's house one time, hid a speaker, and.... yeahhhhhhh you get it.

🥀 Norman would tear his own home apart looking for the source of your sounds, but would never find it. He would just have to white-knuckle his own damn mattress until Inkubus- *cough* 'Klaus', would finally, mercifully, allow you to fall asleep.

🥀 Norman would retaliate by keeping you so busy on nights that he knows you're supposed to go out with Klaus, that either you forget about it until Klaus actually turns up and finds you in Norman's house, or you're too tired to really be any fun for Inkubus.

🥀 He does this by asking you if you would be so kind as to help him out with his gardening, or cleaning out a cupboard, or cataloguing his books.

🥀 Klaus ends up knocking at your door... getting no response (which irks him in the first place)... and slowly turning to Norman's dwellings and glares. Of course, the blind man is at it again. When will he learn?

🥀 (And oh, the look on his face when he finds you on your knees in Norman's bedroom. A bemused grin at you as you apologise and say oh no I forgot!! norman needed help with something and- before you look away, still explaining your adorable self, and it turns into more of a grimace- at Norman. Like are you serious?)

🥀 ... predictably, it quickly became world war iii between them, with Norman still holding out the darkest hope that he can somehow have you as his one day, you blissfully unaware, and unknowingly to the both of you- Inkubus trying to do much worse to you and probably Norman as well now but getting caught up in a gross, petty little territory war instead. Eh, he's got time to kill. Why not?