#that concludes all my additions for this

[yukipri]

Version 3: Groups Labeled!

Last version of this art I swear!

Here are the various groupings of clones in my May 4th clones art.

Everyone was arranged very intentionally, fitting into at least one or more groups with the others around them! Some of these groups were shared in the WIPs, but i thought it would be need to have a final visual as well.

Additional notes beneath cut:

Here's the cheat sheet version with all their names:

A number of these groupings are based solely on my own personal headcanons of the characters, and don't necessarily reflect canon information of them, but this art is a reflection of how I perceive them, so eh.

Going roughly from the bottom up:

YukiPri Stories Core - White - Jango, Boba, Omega, Cody, Ninety-Nine, Seventeen, Fordo, Fox, Ashe

These are the characters who are central to the Prime Override, which is why most of them are front and center (minus Ashe up at top). Why these particular characters are so foreground might not make sense to other folks, but it does to me, and this is my art lol

Nat-Born Aging - Bluish Gray - Jango, Boba, Omega

'Nuff said, Boba and Omega are technically clones but they're the only 3 who in canon have nat-born aging! (in my own fics, all Alphas do, but it's complicated)

Alpha Batch - Crimson - Seventeen, Fordo, Ninety-Nine, Boba

Again, this is entirely my personal headcanon in combining Legends + new canon that these four are all of the same Batch.

Domino Squad - Baby Blue - Fives, Echo, Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait

Yup it's them

Jaig Eyes - Gray - Fordo, Blackout, Rex

The only official clones with jaig eyes on their buckets! In my stories, Fordo got his Eyes from Jango, and then passed on the Eyes to all other clones including these two.

Commanders - Slightly Dark Yellow - Cody, Fox, Blackout, Wolffe, Bly, Ponds, Thorn, Thire, Mayday

'Nuff said, the CCs!

Captains - Aqua - Rex, Howzer, Keeli, Wilco, Gregor

Yup they're Captains!

Rebels Survivors - Royal Blue - Rex, Wolffe, Gregor

The three oldies who are together in Rebels! Arranged them within their respective groups so these 3 would end up together.

RC Squad Leaders - Orange - Gregor, Boss, Hunter

Gregor and Boss are the squad leaders of Foxtrot and Delta squad respectively! Clone Force 99 isn't really an RC squad, but they essentially function as one and a lot of their gear/how they act is borrowed from Legends RC squads like Delta, so I stuck Hunter in the corner there.

Likes Kids - Lime Green - Waxer, Boil, Cut, Hunter

These four unlikely boys are connected by their connections to kids??

Now, going back to the other side:

Slicers - Green - Fixer, Crys, Tech

Hacker boys! Fixer is Delta Squad's official slicing specialist, Crys is the 212th's robolobotomist (hacks them droid brains), and Tech is 'nuff said. The droid that Crys is holding also serves to help identify Droidbait in Domino Squad right below them, because without him reacting to the droid, poor DB doesn't really have many canon identifiable physical markings ;_;

Snipers - Salmon Red - Sev, Longshot, Crosshair

Sev's Delta Squad's sniping specialist, Crosshair is Crosshair. In canon, Longshot is one of the 212th boys on the Citadel mission, who gets electrocuted and dies. There is no actual indication that he's a sniper, but given his name, I've thrown that headcanon on him, and he's now the 212th's expert sniper. Because I say so. Hey he was elite enough to be on that mission alright!

501st - Blue - Jesse, Dogma, Appo, Hardcase, Kix

They're not the *only* 501st boys on here, but they're in a cluster there, bc that's where I had space and I had enough of them voted for that it made sense to put them together.

Kaboom - Blinding Yellow - Scorch, Hardcase, Wrecker

'Nuff said. I knew I was gonna put these boys in a corner somewhere bc they're a safety hazard. Scorch also ended up right on top of Sev, which good, I didn't want to separate them, and Hardcase is also by the 501st so Dogma can flip out.

Medics - Bright Red - Ashe, Stabber, Kix

Also 'nuff said, put Kix on the 501st side

Vod'ika Vibes - Pink - Wooley, Tup, Glitch

In the other corner! Wooley is also positioned closest to Waxer and Boil, who always look out for him. I just thought these would be a cute trio to put together.

Additional White Arrows:

-Domino Squad is positioned by Ninety-Nine, and they're lookin' at each other (other than Cutup and Droidbait, who are a lil distracted)

-Echo is by Omega

-Mayday is positioned at the edge of the Commanders so he can have his hand on Crosshair's shoulder as he introduces him to sniper buddies

Additional markings key:

Gold Star - 212th

Blue Star - 501st

Red Star - Coruscant Guard

Orange Triangle - Delta Squad

Black B - Bad Batch

An example of someone in overlapping groups is Rex; he needs to be positioned exactly where he is so he can be next to other Jaig Eyes, Captains, and Rebels Survivors!

Anyway yup, hope this was interesting! Thanks for reading, and for checking out my work on my own blog.

May the 4th Be With You!!!

Celebrating Clones✨

for 2023!

Can you name them all?

(from The Clone Wars, The Bad Batch, Republic Commando, Live Action, More✨)

~~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. To share, please reblog! Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!!!

❀ You can see the rest of my art through the Masterpost pinned to the top of my blog!

[knockknockitsnickels]

Thinking about how the Tower & the Adversary routes are connected through the Fury, and how you kind of get there by turning one into the other, and how horrified they are by what they become. Tower is about subjugation - she outright says she does not believe the two of you are on equal footing. You get the Fury from her when you assert your independence and fight back, forcing her to take you seriously as a threat and defend herself. Adversary is all about an equal fight - she prides herself on her strength, but also admires yours. You access the Fury through her by refusing to fight, watching her beat you to a pulp and become disgusted by what she does to you. IDK it is interesting how the Tower & Adversary parallel one another, and how you end up with the Fury in each route by doing what their sister route would have wanted you to do.

[xinganhao]

cherry on top 🎩 seungcheol x reader.

picture this: you're taking home an attractive guy you met on your night out. you're both a little drunk but still very much willing to go at it— that is, until you try to handcuff him and you realize you've lost the key to said cuffs. and if the guy happens to be a mafia boss? well, that's just the cherry on top.

★ vignettes from accidentally kidnapping the mafia boss in svt x reverse tropes. additional content here.

📰 Excerpt from "The Ethics of Mafias: A Complex Web of Power, Community, and Morality," a think piece by Xu Minghao

... A particularly intriguing ethical question arises when examining the leadership within mafias. Allegations about a mafia boss allegedly named S.Coups, for example, highlight the dualities often associated with such figures.

On one hand, leaders are seen as ruthless individuals who consolidate power through coercion and fear. On the other, they are often viewed as protectors of their communities, imposing order in chaotic environments. This dual role complicates ethical judgments, as it forces us to ask whether the ends— stability, loyalty, and survival— justify the means of violence and corruption.

There are rumors that S.Coups' persona is carefully curated, blurring the line between myth and reality. He may leverage this mystique to maintain power, creating an image of both invulnerability and approachability. Some speculate that this duality is part of a larger strategy to keep adversaries guessing and to foster a sense of obligation among those who depend on him.

Darker allegations persist— stories of betrayal, silencing dissent, and the ruthless elimination of threats. These rumors reinforce his shadowy status, making it difficult to distinguish the man from the legend. Whether S.Coups is a protector, a manipulator, or a bit of both, his name continues to spark intrigue and speculation, embodying the complexities of power and morality in the underworld...

📰 Excerpt from "Gangnam cops nab suspect planning grave threat, assault", an article by Lee Jihoon

Seoul, South Korea — Authorities in Gangnam announced the voluntary surrender of a suspect allegedly involved in planning a grave threat and assault, averting what officials described as a potentially dangerous situation.

The suspect, whose identity remains undisclosed pending further investigation, turned themselves in at the Gangnam Police Station early Thursday morning. PCol. Wen Junhui, Chief of the Gangnam Police Public Information Office, addressed the media in a press briefing, expressing both relief and caution.

"The suspect's decision to surrender voluntarily demonstrates an important opportunity for dialogue and resolution," he stated. "However, we remain vigilant as we investigate the full extent of their intentions and any potential connections to larger networks."

While officials declined to comment on the specifics of the planned assault, they assured the public that there was no immediate danger at the time of the surrender. "We are grateful for the cooperation of all involved in ensuring this matter concluded without harm," PCol. Wen added. "This case serves as a reminder of the importance of community vigilance and proactive policing."

🧾 iPhone note of mafia soldier, Lee Chan

S.Coups order - Tealive Wintermelon, 75% sweetness, CHERRY POPPING BOBA PEARLS (DO NOT FORGET ‼️‼️‼️)

NTS: Explain what a meme is to S.Coups

Purchase 100 of Skeleteen Metal Handcuffs With Keys

NTS: Search up what 'I ate' means

NTS: Teach S.Coups how to take a 'proper' selfie (???????????????????) wtf

Tip off P.Col Wen

Warn HOSHI to stop gossiping ab S.Coups 'getting bitches'

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Adult!Danny x Sleep-deprived!Constantine: We seem to have a misunderstanding.

Warlock was willing to admit that the Phantom’s company was mostly useful and not unpleasant. Because of the specifics of his work they had to meet quite often. It was nice to be at least a little sure that you wouldn’t get stabbed in the back. The new ghost king seemed to be amused by the World of the Living and that was quite useful. In addition, the Infinite Realms had a history of endless conflicts with Hell, so when demons was messing with him, Phantom was happy to put sticks in their wheels.

However, the current enemy of the League was another alien. Both John and Phantom happened to be nearby. But it seems ghost had no reason to help Hellblazer now, as this fight had nothing to do with his kingdom. Given that Batman had explicitly instructed John to stay on the battlefield, it seemed that if John Constantine wanted to count on a weekend, he would have to use his trump card now.

Constantine: In view of the urgency of the situation, I would like to make a proposal. Life offers many challenges. I know I can meet them if you're willing to face them with me. In the spirit of saving time..[holding up a ring] This is for you. You in?

Phantom: I..I don’t know, John. I mean i want to say yes but It’s all so sudden. Please gimme some time to think, okay? And let me help to deal with these invaders first and then we’ll talk about it.

John: ..Sure?

~~~~~

Tucker: Whoa crazy battle dude. John: Civilians are not allowed here. Danny: It's all right. We were going to meet at a cafe, but now, well, there is no cafe. I mean, he's with me and not so civilian, okay?Ehem..John, meet my best friend Tucker. Tucker, meet my..Em, this is John, and he's kinda my John. It's new for us.

Damn. He was in a hurry and offered more than he should have. It turns out the ghost had an interest in protecting the city. It is unlikely that he would allow the destruction of the place where one of his humans lives.

And worst of all, Phantom did not accept the ring (for which John had to hunt for several months) as payment. Constantine got it specially in case he needed a favor or a way to calm the anger of the spirit he was starting to get along with. Like, really, John spent a fair amount to own the artifact which would have neutralized the consequences of wearing a ring of rage. But Ghost didn’t want it? Why? And yet he helped. So John was in debt.

And how it's all at a bad time. The peace treaty and the treaty of cooperation between the States and the Infinite Realms was concluded only recently. Of course John didn't even have time to discuss the terms of their deal because the blushing ghost flew away to fight but to say that he won't pay for the service is like admitting that you want to start a new conflict. Constantine was starting to have a headache. He'll think about it when he gets at least a couple of hours of sleep. Whatever payment the ghost needs, it can wait a couple of hours.

~~~~~

But as it turned out, the ghost couldn’t make up his mind and decide what he wanted from him. He started showing up at John’s place and looking at him thoughtfully, also recently dragged him to pick out a suit. How he could be mistaken for a stylist John did not understand but preferred not to unnerve a potential ally.

Moreover, for some reason the chaotic creature decided that he had the right to condemn John for always forgetting to have dinner or take a bath. This scoundrel dared to lock him in a bathroom with strange scented candles and colored water. Whatever these bath bombs were, dumb spirit failed to poison him but now John smelled like peaches. Disgusting.

After breaking down the door he found the same mess with candles on the kitchen table. Phantom fought a fierce battle with the green goo in the pot that he brought to John's house, but eventually gave up and they ordered delivery. All in all, it was a pleasant evening. Of course John didn't admit it but for some reason Danny decided that he could make such a mess every Friday.

~~~~~

Danny: So..me and Morningstar are friends now. Do you mind? I know you don’t get along very well. John: Why should I care? Your friends are your business. Considering you’re crazy about the stars I’m surprised you’re not sleeping with their maker.

Danny: Hell no, Lightbringer is great. And I’m glad he’s sharing with me what I wouldn’t find in books but I would never cheat on my partner. John: Good to know. (Wow, who knew the Phantom has a lover.)

~~~~~

Morningstar: I have no idea what you see in this arrogant man, stardust.

Phantom: I don’t know. It’s interesting to be around him. You never know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And his determination and sarcastic nature are really charming.

Morningstar: Well, I’ll get rid of some of his contracts for your wedding but only because I like you and not because I’m willing to deal with this liar.

Phantom: Thanks, Luci,  you’re the best.

Morningstar:That’s true. But it's not free. I need you as a babysitter to keep Spawn busy while, well, Detective and I are busy.

Phantom: No problem :)

[onlyangel4]

it couple. fc43. smau.

franco colapinto x girlfriend!reader

the addition of a new f1 driver means a brand new wag and fans quickly learn that they are a match made in heaven

faceclaim: amelia zadro

y/ninsta posted a story tagging francocolapinto

written: just having my morning coffee and franco calls me with the best news ever, my boy is going to f1!!

francocolapinto posted a story

written: time to celebrate with my love

y/ninsta posted a story tagging francocolapinto

written: power nap ready for italy !

f1wags

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 43,283 others

f1wags: first look at the brand new couple in the paddock. franco colapinto and y/n y/ln have been dating for three years and after doing some research i have concluded that they are the cutest couple ever. y/n is a baker and she is forever posting her making protein treats for franco that fit in his meal plan. they are so cute.

view all 4,475 comments

user1: the more i learn about them the more i love them

user2: cutie patooties

user3: i have been following franco since he first got with y/n and i can confirm that he is whipped

francocolapinto posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: hungría estamos en ti. (hungary we are in you)

y/ninsta posted a story

written; fit for my man's first f1 qualy

lilymhe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: alex and franco returned from a meeting to find me and y/n seeing who could hang from this random beam we found in the garage. y/n may be young but damn does she have superhuman strength

alexalbon posted a story tagging francocolapinto and y/ninsta

written: breaking news: rookie slacks on first race weekend and misses a meeting because he is napping

y/ninsta posted a story

written: race day. race day. race day.

y/ninsta posted a story tagging francocolapinto

written: p18 to p12 in his first race. idgaf about points my man did that!

francocolapinto

liked by y/ninsta, lilymhe, alexalbon and 872,273 others

tagged: y/ninsta

francocolapinto: first race in f1 completed ! this weekend made me realise how lucky i am. y/n has been my side for three whole years and she never gets sick of listening to me yap about racing. she is always there to listen to me talk about racing strategies, even if she doesn't understand what i am saying. i am so incredibly in love with you y/n thank you for being here

view all 27,294 comments

y/ninsta: omg you are going to make me cry into this brownie mixture franco

francocolapinto: sorry my love

user4: he is not sorry at all

lilymhe: thank you for introducing me to my soulmate

y/ninsta: marry me

alexalbon: i think i have a couple objections

francocolapinto: me too

user5: my fav couple on the grid

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

@bibissparkles

@milkysoop

@hadids-world

@callsignwidow

@barcelonaloverf1life

@queen-of-the-hunt

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[texas-gothic]

Dracula Daily Prep: Gather Your Paprikash!

It's that time of year again. Even as we speak, Jonathan Harker has departed for Transylvania, and the unhallowed halls of Castle Dracula. And as he makes his way towards that foreboding country, he will encounter a singular, most enticing of dishes: Paprika Hendl, or as we might know it better, Chicken Paprikash!

This traditional Central European dish explodes in popularity each May as we all gather around our virtual mess hall to enjoy the spirit of this most influential of gothic novels. Perhaps you yourself are considering throwing together a pot this year? Well, if you are, let this be your guide.

So, first, let's discuss the most important of the ingredients here: authentic hungarian paprika. Now, the recipe I first used last year called only for Sweet Paprika, but I personally found that version to be a little bland. I'm remedying this by adding some Hot Paprika as well. However, this is just my personal experimentation. Hungarian Hot Paprika can in fact be very hot, so if you're not comfortable with anything too spicy, feel free to opt only for the Sweet Paprika.

(Both of these I had to order online.)

Next, is another very important addition. As youre gathering your basic cornerstones of cooking (namely yellow onion, roma tomato, and garlic for this recipe) you may find yourself passing up on something that could vastly improve your dish. I'm talking, of course, about Hungarian Wax Peppers. These peppers range in heat, from meak and mild to slightly hotter than you'd average jalapeño. As per instruction, you should only use one. But on my end, I found the single pepper to be a little underwhelming, and I had trouble picking out it's flavor. So, this year, I'll be using two of them.

I got these from Central Market, an upmarket gorcer on Westheimer. They're a cousin of HEB, and you can find one or two in every major city in Texas. If you're elsewhere, try an alternative like Whole Foods, or try to find a European or International food market in your area.

Next, let's talk chicken. You can't have Chicken Paprkiash without the chicken, after all.

You're going to want to go with dark meat cuts for this. Traditionally the dish would use a mix of legs and thighs. Personally, I suggest using only the thighs, which you'll want to get bone-in and skin-on. The thigh provides a flater surface for browning than the leg, as well as more meat.

(A note on food safety, raw chicken will usually only last 2-3 days in the fridge. So you'll want to grab that fairly close to the day you're actually cooking this. If not, you can do what I'll be doing, and sticking it in the freezer until about 24 hours before I start cooking.)

So, as you gather your meat, produce, and spice you're probably asking yourself, "what on Earth am I going to be eating this with?" And the answer to that is spaetzle! A popular dumpling present in lots of Central European cooking, this is exactly what you need to tie this all together.

Now, while you should be able to find some in the international isle of most major grocers, you might also have to visit an international food store, or perhaps something more upmarket. If none of these options work, then there are a variety of other side dishes that work just as well. Egg noodles are a very popular choice, and in my very American attempt last year, I found that mashed potatoes work especially well.

Now that you've got all these things together, you're very nearly done. All that's left is the thickener. Paprikash is thickened using a blend of flour, heavy whipping cream, and sour cream. We'll get onto preparing this mixture in my post on actually cooking the paprikash, but until then, acquiring them should be a cake walk at any place food items are sold.

Now that will conclude the actual grocery list for just the Paprikash itself, but I do have one more pointer on how to really liven up this meal. Now, if you're under 21 or if perhaps you take after our dear, depraved, beloathed Count

Then you can skip this next bit. As a wine professional myself, I find that a well paired glass can add a tremendous flare to nearly any already great dinner. In the case of something like Chicken Paprkiash, and keeping with the Central European theme, I could hardly think of a better match than a good German Pinot Noir, also known as a Spatburgunder. Pinot from Germany typically has a very light body and a refreshing acidity that plays very well with the rich and creamy sauce of Chicken Paprikash. The palate of earth and red fruit should always pair nicely with the smoke of the paprika, as well as being a general good partner for any chicken. I myself am going with this 2020 Rheingau from August Kesseler.

And with that, we are done! Hit those checkout isles and make sure to get home before dark. Terrible things have sway over the world once the sun has gone down. So if the crowd does keep you locked up until nightfall, make sure to graciously accept any crucifixes given to you by kindly, elderly grandmothers and inn keepers. But whatever you do, make sure to pop in on Friday, when I'll be sharing a step by step guide on taking these ingredients and turning them into a dinner that will make our good friend Jonathan go red as a fire truck!

Happy Dracula Week everybody!

[ssahotchnerr]

could we maybe get some momfriend!reader and jack dynamics, maybe from before her and Aaron were even together?

something special

<333 cw; fem!bau!reader, very tiny blood description (& yes i know you're supposed to wash a paper cut right away but for the sake of the setting and aaron being cute i didn't include that step 😭), mentions of haley, mutual pining

"whatcha drawing?" you asked mid-writing, your pen flying across your paper but still finding the opportunity to peek over.

"spiderman and superman." jack replied happily, switching from a red to a blue crayon. "see, they're teaming up to fight the bad guy because he keeps doin' crimes."

about an hour or so ago, jessica had dropped off jack at the bau. long story short; she was called into work urgently and with aaron in a meeting, you were quick to volunteer yourself to keep him company. rather than cramming into the small space of your desk, and jack potentially hearing conversations or details not fit for a six year old, you've made home in the roundtable room. you could work, jack could color.

you had also fired off a quick text to aaron; letting him know jack was with you, a brief synopsis of the situation and where he could find you both once his meeting concluded. it had, and he was about to join, but found himself pausing outside the door, listening to your easy, lighthearted conversation for just a moment.

when it came to you and jack, there was just something about it. something extraordinarily special.

"i see," you nodded along to jack's words, an encouraging smile on your face. "that's really good. since when did you become an artist?"

"since always." jack grinned proudly.

"then you have to promise you'll make me a drawing soon. my desk is pretty boring, i need something to brighten it up." you held out your pinky, eyebrows raised. "promise?"

"i promise." jack linked his pinky with yours, and turned back to his masterpiece with renewed vigor.

a sense of warmth filled aaron's chest, the ends of his lips turning upwards into a faint smile at the natural bond you and jack had developed so quickly, over the course of a few weeks. deciding it was as good a time as ever to join, aaron reached out to fully open the door when a wince-gasp came from jack, stopping him.

"oh no," your head turned. "paper cut?"

jack nodded meekly, grimacing as his gaze shifted to you. his big, sweet eyes were tearful, "it stings."

"can i see?" he offered his hand limply, hanging downwards at the wrist. you cradled his small hand in yours; it was just a tiny cut - no more than a few centimeters, a faint line of red gradually seeping to the surface.

"hm, well," you huffed a breath, turning his hand face-up face-down - vaguely exaggerating the examination. you got up to retrieve the first-aid kit stationed in the room, aaron sidestepping a bit to keep out of potential view. "i think luck was on your side today, i don't think we'll have to amputate this time." you spoke with an airy tone, quick to bring light to the situation. it worked, jack stifling a laugh as you retook your seat. "nothing a bandaid can't fix."

there was the click of kit opening, a slight shuffle of what sounded like paper.

"and don't tell anyone i told you this," you applied a bit of ointment onto the bandaid before wrapping it onto his finger - not too tight or too loose, all to avoid cutting off circulation and to let the wound breathe. "we gotta keep extra band aids around because your dad always seems to get one himself."

"dad gets paper cuts? really?" jack's eyes widened in surprise.

just as his son, a breathless chuckle exited aaron; that wasn't necessarily true, but your intentions were clear: cheering jack up.

in addition, the last time he had heard someone talking to or interacting with jack like this - empathetically, attentively, motherly, was, well... haley.

it touched the usually unattended part of his heart that had been vastly empty since the divorce. since that one, horrible day. while the emptiness still lingered, you had made a pull at it. for a moment, you had healed it, even.

again, there was just something special about you. and again, the only way aaron could describe it was extraordinary.

"really." you nodded convincingly, tossing the little plastic scraps into the nearby trash bin, giving top of jack's hand a consoling pat. "it happens all the time."

aaron mentally rolled his eyes at that, a smile itching at his lips.

jack picked up his brown crayon, pain forgotten, eager to get back to his drawing. "i'm gonna draw daddy and put a bandaid on him. he's a superhero too, y'know?"

"yeah," your smile was rather bashful, your tone of voice so admirable it caused a blush to rise in aaron's cheek. "i know."

[justawritterwithideas]

law in pink | s.r

♡ next part ♡

summary: when the BAU needs an extra helping hand, Washington decides to send the best of the best, but what they didn't expect was to see... pink.

warnings: a bit of stereotypes, beyond that a bit of comedy and fluff. there may be mistakes in writing because I wrote it too fast :(

this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader

words: 1,649 words.

a/n: elle woods from legally blonde comes to my mind constantly because is one of my favorite movies, so I wanted to make a mix called "ssa elle woods"; I hope you like it and you can understand the idea of reader as elle woods, I also hope I didn't portray it wrong and that it will be misunderstood T T

The BAU needed a hand with the rising crime wave, so, straight from Washington they sent the best of the best from their office.

And of course Penelope had to investigate.

According to her research, you had graduated from Harvard with honors and had given the honorary alumni speech at your class graduation. In addition, you were a part-time Harvard professor of Political Theory during the fall and part of a prolific group of researchers in your Washington office, which had the highest rate of successfully resolved cases in the last 5 years.

In addition, you had achieved on your LSAT a score of 179 out of 180 points.

Something inside Penelope reminded her a little of her friend, Spencer Reid, in you.

But what she didn't expect to see when she looked you up on the interwebs was the fashionista and family friendly life you had. The way your apartment was decorated with a pretty pink aesthetic, your outfits videos that reached millions of views and your day to day routines were the mantra of many girls, being all perfectly edited.

With that and more, anyone would think that your job was not to be a federal agent, but an influencer.

Penelope was already smelling perfume from her computer, and that made her more than eager to meet you.

It was seeing one just like her in front of her screen.

You were the perfect candidate to be her new best friend.

The clacking of your heels and the smell of your Chanel perfume filled the entire BAU office, causing the complicit glances of all the workers who were there.

"Have you seen Barbie yet?" "Is the model missing?" "What about her? Maybe she's a lost intern. First-timer problems."

Everyone was making comments you'd heard more than once in some police office, maybe it was the way you dressed didn't go along with the aesthetic they had or how feminine your attire might be, but that's who you were and for a couple of comments about your appearance and the stereotype they had they weren't going to sour your day.

"Excuse me, are you looking for someone?"

You turned to see a tall, dark man, who was watching your outfit from last season's Prada fit you to perfection.

"Oh! Finally someone nice." You commented with a smile. "Yes, I'm looking for Agent Aaron Hotchner."

"He's my boss, would you like help finding his office? I can help you."

"That would be great, thank you very much..."

"Agent Morgan, Derek Morgan."

"It's a pleasure, Agent Derek. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

You didn't like to introduce yourself officially as an agent, it made you look rather intimidating if you did, and that was what you didn't want.

It wasn't a long walk to the wooden door which was adorned by a plaque with the name of the person you were looking for.

"This is it, you come for a case? Any family members involved?"

"No, I'm coming to help. Thank you very much, by the way."

You gave him one last smile before knocking on the door, hearing a "pass" from inside.

"Who was the girl you were escorting, Derek?" Emily watched the man reach them, peering curiously inside Hotch's office.

"Her name is Y/N, she said she was coming to help, but... I don't know, she doesn't look like someone coming to help, maybe she's a witness."

Spencer's eyes scanned the situation, trying to conclude who the mystery woman inside his boss's office was about, but coming up with nothing on the spot. Like his friends, they were all searching for an answer to the abiding doubt in his head.

Who exactly was that girl and why had she said that? She didn't seem like a person whose job was an office job, but not one that was very risky either.

But before they could say anything, Aaron came out of the office with his ever-serious face.

"Meeting in 5" was the only thing he announced, so the group took heed and went to the place.

Once inside the office, Penelope found herself with her dear friends, who were trying to figure out the causes of the recent meeting.

"You don't know Pen either, do you?" J.J. was the first to speak.

"No idea, Hotch just asked me to be here."

"Just like everyone else." Rossi replied, settling around the round table with his coffee cup.

The conversation didn't last long when Hotch entered the boardroom.

"Good. I know there's no case yet or apparent reason to get them together first thing." Hotch began. "But as you may know, the last couple of months have seen an increase in crime for the BAU, which is exactly why we've been given extra funding to bring an extra agent onto the team."

Sounds of excitement came from everyone's mouths.

"So I've been contacting old colleagues, who recommended the best of the best. So they've transferred an agent from Washington to help us."

"Boy, they must be desperate." Derek's comment drew a few chuckles.

"I'd like to introduce you to the SSA, Y/N Woods."

Everyone's countenance changed to one of surprise when they saw you walk in, smiling in the friendliest way possible.

The same girl who looked like a model fresh off a runway was the newest member of the BAU.

"It's nice to meet you all, I hope we can work well together." You set your Prada bag to the side, being able to scan each of the members quickly.

"Woods, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, dr. Spencer Reid and our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia."

"Hey, I know you." You commented in the direction of Garcia, who was smiling politely. "You were the girl who commented on my recipe for the vegetarian tacos."

"Yes! They looked exquisite."

"Thank you very much, I hope they were helpful. We need to be a little more conscientious with our four-legged friends."

Spencer didn't know if he was dazzled by the whiteness of your teeth or the warm way you had entered into trust with Penelope with a simple recipe.

"Woods, Garcia. You'll have time to talk."

"I'm sorry, sir." They both replied at the same time.

"Fine, I'll go prepare the case, Garcia come with me."

They both walked out of the meeting room, leaving you alone with the rest of your new group of colleagues.

"I didn't know you were an agent." Derek was the first to break the silence surrounding them, causing you to turn in his direction.

"I didn't mean to mention it, I'm not a person who usually blurts it out just like that on the first interaction. You never know what kind of person a stranger is." You commented before you could look at him again. "No offense."

"No problem."

"From Washington, right?" Your gaze went to the blonde, who was watching from her position with a warm smile.

"That's right, even though I'm from California but I moved to Massachusetts after getting into Harvard, and then to Washington when I got an opening in the federal office there. So I'm from here, there and over there, but I'll always be a California gurl." A chuckle came out of your mouth after making a reference to the Katy Perry song, bringing your hands to your sides.

"Harvard? What did you study?" Spencer looked more and more interested.

"Law." You commented offhandedly. "I actually studied Fashion Merchandising at UCLA with a 4.0 GPA. But I wanted to prove myself and decided to get into Harvard Law."

"Switching from Fashion Merchandising at UCLA to Harvard Law is a big jump, how much did you get on your entrance exam?" Rossi asked.

"179."

Everyone's surprised face made an impression on you.

"What, like it's hard?" your eyelashes fluttered softly, before you remembered what you were holding as a "peace offering". "By the way, I made cookies yesterday for being the first day and making a good impression." Your hands went to your bag, pulling out a heart-shaped tupperware. "They're lavender and butter, it's a recipe I read on a fairly well known blog forum, they say Paris Hilton gets her recipes from there."

You held out the tupper to each of them to take out a cookie, leaving it on the table in case they liked to take out more.

"If they like more, just pull out. There's enough for everyone." A little smile tugged at your mouth. But before you heard any response from either person, the catchy ringtone of Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl" interrupted any culinary criticism. "Excuse me..." Your hand went for your phone, which didn't surprise others by being pink, and you left the room letting out a "Woods" as you answered.

"This is new." Derek said.

"And delicious." Emily took another bite of her cookie.

"She's different than what we usually know." Rossi looked at the rest, taking a second cookie out of the tupper. "But I don't mind at all, in fact, I think new always comes in good."

"True, it's always good to have someone new and with a different vibe."

The group turned to look at Reid, who was holding the cookie with his right hand. The young man wasn't usually one to blurt out a comment, just like that, least of all referring to a girl.

"Oh kid, you find her attractive." Derek was the first to smile in amusement.

"What, no." The voice in a higher pitched tone than normal was what gave Spencer away.

"Spencer likes Y/N." J.J annoyed, walking out of the office laughing along with Emily.

"That's not true!"

"See ya, lover boy." Derek commented along with Rossi, who was gently patting his shoulder with a knowing smile.

And so it was that Spencer was left in the meeting room with his cheeks as pink as his new co-worker's heels.

♡ next part ♡

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[lucysarah-c]

Hange introduced them. Y/N had been taken on as a PhD student under Hange's research team at the university. As an exchange student, she didn't know many people. Hange, ever the connector, quickly introduced them. The reason for the introduction eluded Y/N, but she didn’t give it much thought. Hange was an outgoing extrovert, and Y/N concluded that this was just part of their role as Levi’s extroverted friend.

It didn’t take long for Y/N and Levi to become more than just acquaintances who met at Hange's birthday party. Y/N didn’t make much fuss about it; Levi was a couple of years older than her, had graduated with honors, and was in a much better financial position than a PhD student. He also fucked like a beast, an important detail.

They didn’t talk much about their arrangement; it developed organically. Y/N would tell her friends that they were just two adults getting to know each other, enjoying the sweaty, steamy encounters in the meantime. While Y/N hadn’t been to many frat parties, she quickly concluded that if she and Levi ever parted ways from their purely physical arrangement, it would be hard to find someone who could do half of what he did.

It was obvious that Hange was aware of this, as they didn’t even try to hide it. Y/N sometimes wished Hange would be a bit less enthusiastic about knowing her personal life, or at least try to maintain a certain level of professionalism.

Levi was very reserved about his personal life, even though they usually met at his house. Overall, he was a calm, dedicated, and pleasant addition to her life. She brought him an expensive tea brand as a gift for all the times he had driven her home, even when it wasn’t necessary.

That day, Levi had come back from a business trip and had invited her over. They had a couple of glasses of wine that he brought from his trip. She was riding him over their clothes, the friction delicious as she gyrated her hips slowly. His hands gripped and raised her shirt slightly, kneading the skin under his fingers as he kissed her collarbones and descended to leave hickeys between her breasts.

The outline of his hardening cock on the side of his trousers was delicious against her covered folds, promising more but giving just the right amount of friction to drive her crazy. Her head was thrown back as one hand rested on his knee and the other on his shoulder for leverage. She softly gasped his name as he undid each little button before unclipping her bra from behind to finally raise it and suck and play with her nipples.

"Ah—Levi!" she moaned, and it was obvious by the way his hands gripped her ass that he had been needy, wishing to come back to her.

"Did that cute little pussy of yours miss my cock inside it?" he groaned with a smirk in his tone.

"Ah—" she was about to reply, but a playful snap on her ass made her jolt. Not painful enough to be uncomfortable but with enough strength. Then she froze in place, her whole body tensed.

Levi must have sensed the change in her attitude because his face, which was buried between her tits, parted and looked up at her. His lips still had a bit of saliva connected to her nipple. "You ok?"

She straightened up, feeling uncomfortable. "I—uh—I need to use the bathroom," she muttered before raising herself from his lap.

"Ah… sure, under the stairs, you know where it is," Levi replied, but she was already walking there and closing the door behind her. Her absence made him uneasy; he began to wonder if he had crossed a line unknowingly as he straightened his posture in his seat and locked eyes on the bathroom door.

"Shit—" she cursed under her breath as she realized what had happened. There was a clear red stain on her underwear. Her period had come early, at the worst possible time. They had been teasing each other about what they would do once he came back from his trip. She paced around the small guest bathroom, unsure. "I left him with his cock hard on the couch…"

There was no real reason for her to feel so ashamed or anxious. She should just tell him and promise to make it up to him later. They were both adults; he should understand.

Two subtle knocks at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Y/N, you ok in there?"

"Yes! I—uh," why was it so hard to say? Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Could you bring me my purse, please?"

She expected to hear Levi’s footsteps on the polished wood floor, but instead, he replied almost immediately, "If you need tampons or pads, there’s a basket with them on top of the toilet."

Turning around slowly, she saw the basket with a collection of different feminine hygiene products. Initially, she wondered why she had never noticed them. As she grabbed one, she couldn’t help but smile softly. It was a rather cute gesture. 'How many girls do you bring over that you have this?'

Quickly shaking off the thought, she reminded herself that they didn’t have that type of relationship, so he was free to do as he pleased, even if the idea spread inside her like boiling jealousy. 'He's a great catch… only you are the idiot thinking he doesn’t have others.'

She came out of the restroom, feeling how the mood had shifted to something uncomfortable—or maybe that was just her perception. Levi was casually putting away the snacks and glasses they had used, cleaning up. He looked at her from the corner of his eye as he continued washing the dishes. "You still need your purse?"

"No, thank you," she quickly replied, feeling like she was wasting oxygen. The moment made her reconsider if casual relationships were for her. She felt as if, by not delivering the sex they both agreed on, she was just annoying him with her presence. They could still have sex if he was into it, but she wasn’t feeling it. The cramps were starting to kick in too. "I’ll get going."

Levi, drying his hands, looked back at her slightly confused. "I was about to offer we order something to eat since I came back and still need to do the grocery shopping," he explained, surprising her deeply. "But if you want to go, I can drive you. It’s not too late; I could still go to the supermarket."

He seemed so unfazed, unbothered.

"I’ll take an Uber; it’s fine," she insisted. "I don’t want to be a bother."

Levi, who was unloading the dishwasher, paused. "I’m inviting you, moron. If you were a bother, I wouldn’t be offering for you to stay."

The plan seemed lovely: staying in his big cozy house outside the city because Levi insisted downtown and all its noise annoyed him, eating something tasty, having him spoil her rotten. It seemed too good to be true. The next words slipped out without intention, revealing her thoughts.

"We don’t have that type of relationship."

It dropped like a bomb. The silence was overwhelming, feeling like it lasted hours. Levi put the final dish away, his fingers lingering on the countertop door a bit longer. His lips pressed together, and from the outside, he appeared as stoic as ever.

"We could… if you want."

Adult relationships can be so complicated. Both looked at each other. "If you know what I mean," was implied by both their expressions. It felt so ridiculous, as if junior high relationships were easier than this. "Not to sound too needy, too desperate, set too many rules, be too insistent."

A smile crept onto her face, and she felt like a little girl with a crush. "I think I do."

He tried to wash off the enthusiasm. "Great, so… choose what you want to eat, and I’ll give you my card."

"You choose what to watch?" she asked as she took her phone out to select dinner.

"Yeah, sure."

Later, cuddling in bed and watching a cheesy Netflix show that made them wonder who funded such a production but continued watching because there was nothing better on, she had a question. Levi’s cat purred between his legs as she rested her head on his right shoulder.

"Why do you have all those pads in your bathroom?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Levi looked back at her momentarily before calmly saying, "Isabel, she's… like my little sister. I adopted her when she was little." He began to explain but realized it was hard to tell the complete story without some details. "Her friends and she, in middle school, would start to get their periods and be too ashamed to ask me for pads or tampons. So, I decided to set up a basket so they could grab what they needed. Over time, it became a routine."

"Wait," she sat up straight, "she lives here? What if she sees us?"

"Chill, she’s at college. She’s in her first year."

"Aww, well, it seems like you were a 'cool mom,'" she joked, making a Mean Girls reference.

Levi grimaced uneasily and then admitted, almost ashamed, "Not really… but I promised a friend that I would give her more freedom."

"Oh…"

(I don't know what this is, I just got an idea and decided to write it. That's all)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthor @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 @levicansteponme Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[solbaby7]

Seen

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: possible swearing but this is mainly just fluff, maybe a splash of sexual tension but I love a good slow burn when it comes to azzyboy

summary: Nosy by nature, you follow a few stray shadows somewhere you know you don’t belong—better not get caught

—

You shouldn’t be here.

You definitely shouldn’t be here.

But everytime you stopped, tried to turn back and go where you came, those little shadows stopped you. Wrapping around your legs like snakes, pulling at your clothes and gently pushing you forward down a dark hallway with only one door.

You knew you shouldn’t have touched it.

But the little shadows twisted the knob for you, door opening with a slow creek.

“Absolutely not,” You say to the hovering shadow, unsure if it could understand you but the way it curled around your shoulders and urged you forward seemed like a “actually, you will”.

It was a little colder in here, a room filled to the brim with all sorts of treasures. Weapons hang neatly against the wall above the fireplace, swords sharper than the jagged rocks weathered by the crashing tide deep below the mountains. Armor and fighting leathers of all sizes and stitching hang on a rack in the corner, perfectly clean save a few random holes—war wounds you concluded.

But whose?

The answer becomes more apparent when you prod a little further, carefully observing rare books; some with languages carved on the spine you hadn’t even known existed. Paintings hang on the wall, some of landscapes, a few of the Night Court, but one makes your eyes widen—the painting Feyre had made for Azriel.

You step back immediately, the shadow holding at your arm to brace you. “I really shouldn’t be in here.” You whisper at it, fixing the papers on the desk you’d stumbled into.

“No, you really shouldn’t.”

Your body freezes, hands stuck in place over the little wooden figurine you’d knocked over and the profanity that slips out is nothing above a whisper. “I swear I wasn’t snooping.”

It definitely looks like you’re snooping, hands all over personal paperwork that once you squinted your eyes to look at, you realize they’re reports; mission debriefs, important information that you certainly shouldn’t know and the whine that pulls in your distress, Azriel actually finds kind of cute. “Okay.” There’s no reading the expression on his face, dark hair tumbling down his shoulders. His shirts unbuttoned, golden brown skin capturing your attention and you force your eyes away before you get caught up in the giant wings tucked behind him. “Why are you here?”

Your fear morphs into anger, pointer finger jabbing at the two shadows slinking about your feet, nearly fully hidden if it weren’t for the smoke like wisps that curled in the air. “They made me, I swear. I didn’t even open the door.”

Azriel says nothing, wings ruffling when he beckoned them, silently commanding they return but the shadows don’t obey. They hide behind your frame, flitting about your clothes and one settles around the back of your neck like a sleepy cat. “Interesting.”

“They’re kinda cute,” You admit softly, eyes transfixed on the newest addition to your shoulders and when your fingers come to touch it, it feels cool. “—if they weren’t so naughty.” As if remembering you’re not alone you look back up, hand lowering back down to your sides as you stand there awkwardly. “But, I suppose I didn’t exactly fight them that hard—I was a little curious.”

“Dangerous thing, curiosity. People have killed over less.”

It takes everything in you not to step back because even though the words are slightly threatening, they aren’t untrue. “I apologize—I’ll go now.”

“If you weren’t actually snooping through my papers,” Azriel begins, the shadows attached to him preventing you from going any further and the two connected to you reach out to the others—bumping against one another like bees communicating where the most pollen was. A few more reach out to you, curiously prodding at your clothes, your hair, curling around your arm and gliding through the gaps of your fingers. “What were you looking at?”

You answer quickly albeit a little distracted by the smoky darkness crawling up your shirt and around your neck. “I was—“ Your breath catches when they squeeze a little, blush fanning. “Can you get them off please?”

“Believe it or not,” You dare look up at him and find that he looks just as flustered as you by his shadows. “I’m trying but they’re not really responding to me at the moment.”

Panic is evident on your face and the swirling gems containing the true extent of his power behinds to glow a little, shadows being pulled back like a magnet no matter how hard they latch on. “Does that happen often.”

Azriel’s hand reached out, snatching at one that dared try to pull away. He doesn’t look at you when he tucks it back with the others. “No.”

There’s a pause, a silence that’s not exactly uncomfortable but you still feel the need to fill it when you skim over parts of the room you hadn’t been able to explore before. “What is all of this stuff?” You’re moving before you can tell your feet to stop, settling before a glass cabinet filled with all sorts of precious gems, glimmering necklaces and two neatly hung dresses and though neither are quite as high quality as the stones; your hand still hovers over them, fingertips millimeters from the shiny glass. “It’s beautiful.”

You don’t hear anything for some time, too entranced with the golden arm cuff that had been carefully designed into a vine with detailed leaves and stems that seemed to grow the longer you stared at it. “They’re for,” Azriels voice is low, clearing his throat when his breath catches slightly. “—they were for my mother.”

Were.

You don’t look at him, granting him the gift of privacy because it was obvious this wasn’t exactly an easy subject and even more clear that procuring this many words from him was a feat in itself. You hum instead, trying to appear as casual as possible as you appreciate items not meant for other eyes—treasures meant for a someone who was no longer with us. “She must’ve been lovely—probably a bit complex,” You say without thinking. “Probably really kind too and good with nature,” You add, looking back at the arm cuff.

A blush forms when you finally turn to face him again, his mouth is slightly agape and you can’t quite put your finger on the way he’s staring at you. “You get all that from some jewelry?”

You scoff as if they’re your own, defending them like you’d picked them yourself. “They’re not just jewelry. Look at how intricate the pieces are,” You point at them, never touching the glass in fear of leaving a fingerprint or possibly breaking it. “Each and every one of them probably look careful thought and planning and endless hours of time spent bringing it to life. The care; the love put into them it’s—“ You let out a breath, realizing how fast you were talking and how quick you were breathing. Suddenly, you feel shy with his eyes studying you. “It’d be a disservice to just call them jewelry when it’s so clear her soul’s in every piece.”

Azriel’s not a man of many words, so you don’t force them. Instead you dip you head in farewell, returning the clingy shadows and making way to leave when you hear a whisper so soft you nearly mistake it for the wind. “I thought so too.”

[hayleythesugarbowl]

you should do a spencer agnew x reader but reader is the new smosh games PA and she has a slow burn / flirty relationship with spencer :)))

Cool Shoes || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist • part 2  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you join smosh as the newest addition to the games crew, you are immediately attracted to spencer. but will your little crush turn into something more?

word count: 3.7k

warnings: mild language

a/n: thank you so much for this request ml!! i love writing for spencer sm and honestly i kinda fell in love w him a little bit while writing this so ty 🤭 this isn’t superrr slow burny (i got to excited and eager lol oops) but there’s plenty of flirting and i hope you enjoy this!! 🎀

edit!! i have a part two now, so if you enjoy this fic go check that out 💋

<— some more spencer fics • next part —>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “And this concludes your official tour of Smosh,” Shayne said, throwing his arms wide. “Any questions?”

     “Yes,” you answered, “Is that my ring?”

     “(Y/n),” Shayne whined as he slipped the ring that was definitely yours into his pocket quickly, “That’s what you got out of my tour?”

     “You’re right, I’m sorry Oh Wise Guide,” you teased, “You know I wouldn’t be here without you. Or if I was, I’d be really lost.”

     You had just officially begun your job at Smosh that morning. Shayne had immediately started showing you around and you really were grateful.

     You’d known Shayne for years and he was the one that suggested you try and get a job with Smosh when you’d moved to LA a few months ago. 

     You’d gotten a job as the Smosh Games PA and you couldn’t wait to get started. You already knew a lot of the people who worked there—either because you’d met them through Shayne outside of Smosh or from the multiple times you’d visited the studio before you’d applied for the job.

     Plus, this was the first job you’d had where you actually felt like you’d be doing something you enjoyed. 

     “Who’s lost?” You heard a voice from behind you and you spun around quickly.

     “Oh, (Y/n), this is Spencer, the director of our games channel,” Shayne introduced you to the man who had spoke. “Spencer, this is (Y/n), the new games PA.”

     You knew you should’ve said something to him along the lines of ‘hi, nice to meet you. i’m (y/n). i look forward to working with you’ but all that came out was “Cool shoes.”

    You didn't know why that was what your mind had landed on—he was wearing basic gray sneakers—but you were so caught off guard by how attractive he was that you’d kinda choked.

     Because damn. He had the most gorgeous eyes you’d ever seen on a person before. 

     Spencer smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Either you’re just trying to kiss ass already or you’ve got really bad taste in shoes because these babies are mid at best.”

     You smiled, looking down at your own shoes. “Definitely the second option—these are someone’s grandma’s shoes. Seriously, I scavenged them from my Nanna’s closet.”

     This got you a laugh from Spencer and you continued, “Unless I should be kissing ass?”

     “Nah,” Spencer waved the thought away, “most of your job’s just gonna consist of bringing me Mountain Dew. So unless you can screw that up…”

     “He’s not serious, is he?” You turned around to ask Shayne. “Because you said this wasn’t gonna be like my last job.”

     “You slung Mountain Dew at your last job?” Spencer asked. 

     You shook your head. “Just had a lousy boss who took the assistant part of my job a little too far. But I appreciate your concern for my employment history,” you teased. 

     You were surprised at how easy it was to talk to Spencer. Usually you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to joke around with someone you just met—let alone your new boss. Your new boss who you had almost undressed with your eyes upon first sight. 

     “Settle down, I was just gonna ask if you had any cans left over,” Spencer winked.

     “Spencer’s kind of addicted to Mountain Dew Kickstart,” Shayne piped in. “And by kind of—”

     “He means I’ve already had four today,” Spencer finished.

     You made a face, “It’s 9:00am.”

     “Ooh,” Spencer winced dramatically, “Sorry, but I don’t think our values align. Go ahead and bring in the next one, Shayne.  (Y/n), it was nice meeting you—good luck with the shoes thing.”

     Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “You already have another person lined up for my job?”

     Spencer leaned towards you and you felt your pulse pick up ever-so-slightly. “Shayne doesn’t know it yet, but it’s actually just him,” he whispered loudly.

     “Well then I may have to quit, just to see how this goes,” you said, turning to Shayne who crossed his arms.

     “Not when I was just starting to like you,” Spencer pouted and you felt your cheeks warm.

     “I was just starting to think you’re not so bad yourself,” you shot back.

     “Woah, I just meant ‘cause you have a secret stash of Mountain Dew.”

     “And I meant because you have cool shoes,” you teased.

     “Well, now that we’ve got that settled,” Spencer smiled, “I expect to see you here by 5:00am sharp tomorrow morning.”

     “Seriously?” Your job description hadn’t said anything about getting to work when it was still dark out!

     Spencer shrugged. “I guess I can give you a few more hours. Y’know, so you can shop for some decent footwear beforehand. See ya later, grandma shoes.”

      He began to walk backwards and you said a quick ‘it was nice to meet you’ before he turned around and walked back the way he came.

     You couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on your face. You could already tell this was going to turn out to be a great job. You couldn’t wait to get to work tomorrow. And you couldn’t pretend part of that wasn’t because you wanted to see Spencer again.   

     And not just because that’s what your eyes wanted. You had enjoyed talking with him. You felt like you’d really hit it off. You felt like you two could really become good friends and coworkers. 

     You turned to Shayne, aware that you were probably still smiling like an idiot. 

     “What?” He fixed you with a quizzical look.

     “Nothing, I’m just excited to start working here,” you said.

     Shayne raised an eyebrow.

     “And,” You added, reluctantly, and only because you knew Shayne would find out  eventually, “you didn’t tell me my boss was hot.”

     Now Shayne raised both eyebrows, “Spencer?”

     “What?”

     “Nothing,” he said, “I mean, he’s single, so go for it if you want. He seemed like he really liked you and—”

     “No,” you cut him off, “Definitely not. He’s my boss. I don’t want to ‘go for’ anything other than a good, friendly, professional relationship.”

     “Okay,” Shayne nodded. 

      You nodded back and he was silent for a moment before smiling, 

     “‘Course that’s what I said about Courtney…”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You took a sip of your coffee from the mug you were holding as you made your way down the hall and towards your office.

     You’d been working at Smosh for approximately seventeen days and you had finally stopped getting lost throughout the building on a daily basis.

     Once Spencer had showed you the ropes and made sure you knew what you were doing, you had joined right in to the well oiled machine that was Smosh.

     Unfortunately, your sense of directions wasn’t as good as your work ethic and so it had taken extra time for you to remember where everything was. Much to Shayne’s amusement.

     You were deep in thought as you rounded the corner and you didn’t see the person right in front of you.

     You ran straight into Spencer and as you collided with him, your coffee drink spilled all down your front as you were knocked to the floor. You quickly picked yourself up off the ground. 

     “I am so sorry,” you rushed, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

     “It’s all good,” Spencer said, standing up, “I am officially awake now, so I guess I owe you one.”

     You laughed with him but you felt your face getting hot in embarrassment. You looked down at your blouse and found it more brown than it was purple from the coffee. You tried in vain to wipe it off.

     “Damn, I hope that wasn’t a family heirloom too,” Spencer pointed to your shirt, “Here, take my hoodie.”

     He started to pull the sweatshirt over his head as you protested, “No, it’s ok—I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad—it’s kind of a look.”

     “Really, I insist,” Spencer said, handing you his hoodie. “Gives me a chance to show off my anime t-shirt anyway.”

     You took the sweatshirt from him, mumbling your thanks and pulling it over your head.

      Spencer’s scent engulfed you as you put on his warm hoodie and you tried not to get distracted by the way his cologne made you a little bit dizzy. 

      Over the last several days, as you’d been adjusting to your new job, you’d almost forgotten your tiny crush on Spencer. 

     Almost. 

     You’d been so focused on work that you hadn’t really had time to stop and think about your feelings towards your boss. 

     You really enjoyed working with him and he was quickly becoming your favorite person at Smosh—other than Shayne, of course. You sent a silent apology to him in your head.

      And then there were the moments when Spencer would laugh at one of your jokes or compliment you on a task you did or smile shyly at you up through his lashes and you felt all warm inside.

     Like right now—him giving you his hoodie. That brought you out of your reverie as you remembered where you were. Standing in front of the man you were currently lost in thought about.

     “Right, well, I better get back to—” You gestured in front of you, trailing off as you had honestly forgot what exactly you were headed to your office for. 

     “Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep you from—” He gestured in the direction you had, as if the nothing that you had indicated was what needed your attention. 

     You rolled your eyes at him amicably before heading in the direction you had been going. 

     After a quick stop in your office—you hadn’t found what you apparently had been looking for in there. And if while you were in the office by yourself you pulled up the collar of the sweater to your nose for a second or seven, who was there to see you?—you set off for the break room. 

     You saw Shayne sitting at a table with some other cast and crew members and you walked over towards him, plopping down across from him and Erin, an associate producer for Smosh.

     You had gotten to know her a bit throughout these past couple weeks and already felt like you had been friends for months.

     “Hey you,” Shayne greeted, “What’s up?”

     You shrugged. “Oh, you know, same old same old. What’s new with you?”

     “Well, we filmed a TNTL this morning, and I had this new idea for a character. So basically—”

     “(Y/n), is that Spencer’s sweatshirt?” Erin interrupted, her eyes fixed on your top. 

     “Oh, um, yeah,” you told her.

    At the same time Shayne asked, “How do you even know what Spencer wore to work today?” 

     “I’m a woman, we know these things,” Erin paused. “Come on, he wears that thing four times a week, like it’s hard.”

     She turned her gaze back to you. 

     You cleared your throat. “But, yeah, anyways, I spilled coffee on my blouse so he gave me this.”

     Erin raised an eyebrow, “Did he now?”

     “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked her, trying your hardest not to blush. 

     “No reason,” she leaned back, acting casual, “It’s just Dude 101, a guy doesn’t give a girl his hoodie unless he likes her.”

     You scoffed, “That’s crazy, Erin. He was just being nice.”

     This you felt sure about. Whatever your feelings were towards Spencer, you were sure he only though of you as his coworker. 

     Right?

     “Well, it’s obvious you like him,” Erin added, as if that was an absolute fact.

     “What?” You spit out, probably faster and louder than was necessary or convincing.   

     You glanced at Shayne and he raised his arms as if to say, Don’t look at me, my lips have been sealed!

     “I’ve seen the way you act around him, (Y/n). And the way he acts around you.” 

     Was it that obvious that you had a little, tiny crush on Spencer? I mean, you guys got along really well. And we’re constantly making each other laugh. But that just meant you were friends, right? He definitely didn’t act any different around you than he did with anyone else at Smosh, did he? 

     Granted, you hadn’t even been working here three weeks yet and you weren’t one hundred percent sure how he acted around everyone else. But you had no reason to believe it was any different than with you!

     “You’re crazy,” you told Erin.

     “So you deny, it?” She folded her hands on the table in front of her, “You don’t have feelings for Spencer?”

     “Well,” you started. You didn’t want to lie to her, not when you were just starting a friendship. You sighed, lowering your voice so only Erin and Shayne could hear you, “I might have some feelings for—”

     “Spencer!” Shayne said loudly and awkwardly, as if to warn you of his sudden presence behind you.

     You spun around probably too quickly and found yourself looking up at him. 

     “Hi, Spencer,” you said, sincerely hoping he hadn’t overheard any of the previous conversation.

     “Hey (Y/n), long time no see,” he smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “So, I was wondering, since we’ve got that big project coming up next Wednesday, do you think you’d be able to meet me outside of work to get a head start on it? We could go to a coffee shop or my place or something?”

     He almost looked…nervous asking you to work on a project outside of normal work hours. Probably just figuring you’d decline at sacrificing your free hours.

     You watched as Erin raised an eyebrow and you promptly ignored her. 

     “Yeah sure,” you said, “Sounds like a plan.”

     “Really?” He sounded relieved, “Ok awesome, I’ll text you some dates.”

     “Perfect,” you said, “And it’ll give me a chance to give you back this hoodie once I have other clothes to change into.”

     “Keep it,” Spencer shrugged, looking down “It looks way better on you that it ever did on me anyways.”

     You brushed your hair behind your ears. “I might take you up on that offer.”

     “‘Course you will have to give me something in return,” he said, “I mean, fair’s fair, man.”

     “Naturally,” you looked down at your body to find something suitable, your eyes landing on the scrunchie at your wrist. 

     You handed it to him and he took your offering, slipping the scrunchie into his wrist. 

     “Classy,” he nodded, holding his arm out at different angles to look at it.

     “Very,” you agreed, giggling. 

     You both fell silent and you looked back down at the table. Shayne said something to Spencer and they began a conversation—the chosen, something something—and you were silent until Spencer left the table, laughing at something Shayne had said.  

     Immediately after he exited the room, Erin pounced.

     “Okay what the hell was that?” She asked.

     “What was what?”

     Erin put on a high voice and then a low voice and back again, mimicking your conversation “Oh, hi, Spencer. Hi, (Y/n). Wanna come to my place? Oh, I’d love to. You look so sexy. No you look sexy. Wanna exchange wardrobes?” 

     “Okay, that’s not how any of that went,” you said, but you couldn’t help yourself from smiling.

     “That’s what it sounded like from over here,” Shayne added. “He invited you to his house, man. And he’s gonna text you?”

     You’d exchanged numbers right after you began your job, but you hadn’t actually had many text conversations. You didn’t really think it was a big deal.

     “Yeah, we’ve texted before,” you said, “But don’t think it means anything, so far he’s mostly just sent me memes.”

     “What kind of memes?” Shayne asked, as though this was severely important. 

     “Cat, SpongeBob, the occasional wombat.”

     “Trust me,” he said, “that means something. I’m a psychologist, so I kinda know these things.”                                

“Havingapsychologydegreeisn’tthesameasbeingapsychologist,” Erin coughed into her hand.  

     “You know what—” Shayne started, turning to Erin.

     “Guys,” you interrupted.

     “Right,” Erin agreed, “not the time. What I’m trying to say is, that was flirting Miss (Y/n), whether you like it or not.”

     Had you and Spencer been flirting? You weren’t exactly an expert on the subject, so maybe Erin was right. A part of you definitely hoped that was the case. 

     “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Amanda leaned in from the table next to yours, “But I also think there was definitely flirting going on.”

      You, Shayne, and Erin all turned to look at her.

      “Come on people, you know I like kissing scenes, why should this come as a shock?” She threw up her hands and you laughed.

       “Who’s kissing?” You hadn’t seen Courtney enter the room, but now she came and sat down next to her husband and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

       “We were just talking about how it’s just a matter of time before Spencer and (Y/n) are totally gonna ba—”

      “Erin!” You cut her off, definitely blushing now as Courtney giggled.

      “So you and Spencer, huh?” She asked, smiling. 

      “That’s what these two seem to think,” you gestured to your friends.

     “Not think,” Erin said.

     “We know,” Shayne finished.

     “Fine,” you relented a bit, “I do like him, a little. Well, okay a lot. I guess I like him a lot. He’s smart and sweet and funny and charming and so cute and has great cologne, apparently,” you gestured to the hoodie. You took a deep breath. “And I really really like him.”

     You realized as you said it, that it was true. You’d spent the past couple of weeks trying to convince yourself that you only thought of Spencer as a friend and a coworker. But you realized, the more you talked to your friends, that you really did have feelings for him. That were more than friendly or coworker-ly. 

     Maybe this was something that you really did want. And that could maybe happen. You had felt the connection between you and Spencer, so it was possible he might feel the same way about you.

     Unless you were reading this all wrong and—Oh God, what if you told him how you felt and he rejected you and then you had to work side by side with him in awkwardness forever? 

     “But so what? It’s not as if he feels the same way. I don’t want to make things weird between us,” you finished.

     “Trust me, my guy, he likes you,” Courtney contributed. “I’m married to a psychologist, I know these things.”

     “See!” Shayne crossed his arms triumphantly and Erin rolled her eyes. 

     “Stilldoesn’tcount,” she cough-spoke. 

     “And I’m taking this back!” You said, noticing the ring on Shayne’s middle finger and reaching over to grab it, once and for all. 

     “Anyways,” Courtney finished, “I say tell him how you feel, see where this goes.”

     “I concur,” Shayne said and his wife raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I’ve always wanted to say that!”

     “She’s right,” Erin said, “and by the end of the week you’ll be ban—”

     “Erin!” 

     She merely smirked as she picked up her soda drink and took a sip. 

     “So I just go up and ask Spencer out?” You messed with the drawstrings of your sweatshirt. You were encouraged by your friends’ words, and you really wanted to go up and just do it, but you felt doubt creeping in. 

     “What if I mess up what I’m trying to say?  Or fall on my face walking up to him? Or worse, what if he says no?”

     “He wouldn’t.” You heard his voice first. You looked up and found him walking slowly through the doorway as he kept speaking. “Say no, I mean. If I know him as well as I think I do—and I pride myself on knowing him pretty damn well—then he’d say yes.”        

     He was in front of you now. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”

     You tried to catch your breath as you processed what was happening. “Oh yeah? What else would he say?”

     “Well, uh, he’d probably that he’s attracted to you. And that he wanted to ask you out the moment he met you and is so glad you did it first because now he doesn’t have to continue his poor, pathetic attempts at making a move,” he said, placing a hand in the back of his neck.

     You stood up, coming to stand right in front of Spencer. “When did you come back?” 

     You’d thought he’d walked away a few minutes ago after your conversation had ended. 

     “Never left,” he said, “Bent down to tie my shoe, and then I heard way too many nice things about myself to leave.”

     You giggled, shoving his shoulder. “So humble.”

     “Hey, when you hear someone professing their love for you…” Spencer shrugged. 

     “Ok, that’s not what was happening,” you crossed your arms.

     “I beg to differ,” Erin piped in.

     “Not what it sounded like from our side of the table,” added Shayne. 

     You had forgotten both of them were there. You’d been so caught up in what was happening with Spencer, you’d forgotten anyone was there, actually.

     But as you looked around, you found that everyone currently occupying the break room was stopped to watch the two of you. 

     Angela whooped from a few tables over. 

     “Well since it’s unanimous, apparently,” you joked, “What do you say? Will you go out with me.”

     “I most certainly will,” Spencer said, smiling at you.

     You reached out and took his hand, linking it with yours. He looked at you for a moment before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

     You placed your hand where his lips had touched yours. You couldn’t believe this was happening. And you couldn’t wait to see where this went—you and Spencer, you thought. You felt giddy with excitement.

     “Well, I’ll see ya later then,” Spencer said, beginning to walk backwards. “and I already have an idea for our first official date.”

     “And what’s that?”

     “I’m gonna take you to a Payless ShoeSource.”

     “I thought you liked my grandma shoes,” you crossed your arms.

     “(Y/n), I like everything about you,” he said, “but those things have to to go.”      

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this one!! have a lovely week all my spencer girlies 🤭🩰

<— some more spencer fics • next part —>

[wordsnstuff]

Hey, so i'm working on my first WIP, and i wanted to ask about drafting. When can one consider their first draft done? Does it have to have the goal word count (ie; 100K), or would being about halfway there be considered a good enough first draft, that i can move on to the second and start editing?

Concluding each stage of the writing process

It's difficult to know when a phase of a writing project has concluded and you're ready to focus on a new objective as it's developing. I tend to approach my writing projects with a clear and uniform trajectory, regardless of how diverse my projects can be. This approach allows me to remain focused, thorough, and reassured that I am covering all my bases in an organized fashion. However, it also maintains space for me to be explorative and intuitive when necessary. In regards to word count, I don't think it's entirely relevant unless you're determined to adhere to strict genre conventions. Give your story the space it needs and not an extra inch.

(Optional) Zero Draft

In this phase, you're telling yourself the story. You're doing it quickly, messily, intuitively, and forgivingly. Explore every idea that glows in the dark for you, don't throw anything away or discount any possibility. Exhaust your imagination in this phase so that when you reach the first draft, you know you're making informed decisions.

First Draft

You're crafting the structure and core elements of the story. This is often the phase of discovery. You're becoming acquainted with your characters and how they interact, you're beginning to feel at home in the world and settings you've built, and you're seeing all sides of the conflict as it evolves. The goal here is settle on a beginning, middle, and end point, and by the end of this process you want to know your characters' motivations and relationships inside and out.

Second Draft

Go back quickly through the first draft and address any points where you got stuck, where you compromised for the sake of carrying on to the end, and fill in any apparent blanks. The first time you really iron something out, there will always be a few pesky creases. This is the time to find and flatten them.

Third Draft

This is where you question everything. Identify and scrutinize your decisions, dive into the "curtains are blue" discussions with yourself, and begin to tidy up things like grammar, clumsy dialogue, over-poured descriptions, and dubious vocabulary. Comb through each paragraph and be brutal, prioritizing clarity and intentionality of how you've told the story.

The Read Through

This is the point where I recommend doing three things:

Letting it rest away from you for 1-3 months so that you can return to it with a bit of unfamiliarity and new perspective.

Hand it off to a couple of trusted readers and give them ample time to read, digest, and craft some feedback

Reread the project once all the way through making no changes (although annotations are acceptable)

Fourth Draft

Finishing touches. Vigorously and meticulously scrub and scrape between the lines and imagine giving it to your worst enemy. If you can imagine any mean (but valid) things they could conceive of to say about it, this is the time to grapple with or fix those details.

Additional Resources

Guide to Drafting

Word Count/Productivity Tracker Spreadsheet

Balancing Detail & Development

Writing The First Chapter

Writing The Middle of Your Story

Powering Through The Zero-Draft Phase

Writing The Last Chapter

Chapter Length

Happy drafting,

x Kate

[avatar-anna]

Save a Horse...

2024 Masterlist

"Reading anything interesting?" Harry asked as he entered the den, your favorite place to read.

Holding your Kindle to your chest, you said, "Uh, I guess. I only just started it, so."

Harry raised a brow skeptically as he sat in the loveseat across from the bay window where you sat. "Really?" he asked. "You've been in here a while."

"I—I got stuck on my phone for a while," you said. "You know how it is."

"Hm."

Not saying anything else, Harry picked up his own book and opened it. You watched him for a moment, brows furrowed. As far as you were concerned, he was working all afternoon. You didn't typically mind, you took the quiet afternoons to run errands, tend to your garden outside, try out new recipes, and read.

Most of the time, you read. Harry had always known you to be a bookworm, the first time you met you had a novel in your hand and one in the bag over your shoulder. Books were how you communicated—gifts just because, as a form of apology, ones you thought you might enjoy together, which rarely ever happened. You left them in places for Harry to find like his guitar case or his carry on when he left for tour, and he put novels in different purses of yours or among the stacks on your bookshelf to see if you'd notice the new addition.

It was safe to say that both of you loved to read, but quiet afternoons like this were typically ones you enjoyed alone, specifically so Harry wouldn't see you blush or question what it was you were blushing at.

You glanced down at your Kindle, at the paragraph you left off on. "Jack shoved Delilah against the barn's door before ripping her blouse wide open to reveal her bare chest. Buttons scattered against the floor, but Delilah didn't care, not when Jack kissed a searing path toward her—"

"You know what? I think I'm gonna start on dinner," you said, clicking your Kindle shut before standing up.

Looking at your boyfriend was the wrong move. Harry lay stretched out on the loveseat, his shorts riding up on his thighs revealing more of his toned legs than you would've liked. That wasn't the first...steamy scene in your book, and let's just say looking at your very sexy boyfriend wasn't curbing the feeling of need coursing through your veins.

Harry definitely wouldn't have been opposed if you crawled into his lap right now, but he'd ask questions, questions that were too embarrassing to answer.

"Dinner?" he asked, setting his book down in his lap. His reading glasses, which had been perched high on the bridge of his nose, slid down, his hair adorably rumpled. If you hadn't known he'd been in his home studio all day today, you would've guessed he'd just rolled out of bed. "It's one o'clock, baby."

"Or nap," you said, hating how skittish you sounded. "Maybe take a nap. I don't know, I'm not really feeling like reading right now."

"Well, that's a first," Harry said, his voice slightly teasing. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing!" you insisted, though you answered a little too hastily, and your voice might've been higher than usual. Scratching the back of your neck, you tried to quell your heartbeat. "Nothing. Why—Why would you ask that?"

"Because you're acting...strange," Harry concluded. A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the book you're reading on that thing, would it?"

He nodded toward the Kindle in your hands with a raised brow. It was a little too pointed, as if he knew exactly what you kept on it. You and Harry both enjoyed the feel of a physical book in your hands, but you had an e-reader too. For convenience, you told Harry. And it was convenient. Your Kindle was light, you could carry a library in your purse and it barely weighed a pound, and it conveniently hid your most scandalous book titles.

"N—No," you said, fighting the urge to hide your Kindle behind your back, or chuck it across the room until it broke and was unusable. "Like—Like I said, I'm just not in the mood to read."

"Okay, I'll join you then. I'm a little tired myself."

Harry stood up and stretched his arms high above his head, his t-shirt rising with him. Your eyes zeroed in on the sliver of skin that revealed itself. Tan, tattooed skin, taught with muscle, a light trail of hair that led into the waistband of his briefs. Your cheeks were already flaming red from the situation at hand, but seeing his skin, seeing Harry be...Harry without even trying was too much. You thought you might combust.

"Why?" It was a stupid question, one you knew Harry saw right through.

"Why are you so eager to not hang out with me?" he asked back, his eyes narrowing. "And what's got you so flustered today? Has Jack ravished Delilah again?"

"Wh—What?"

Harry smirked at you, his eyes filled with mischief as he nodded at the e-reader in your hands. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know what you keep on there."

What? "Since when? And how—how do you know about—"

"You fell asleep reading last night," Harry explained. "And the Kindle was still on. I mean, I've always had my suspicions because you're always blushing when you've got that thing in your hands, but I got curious."

"I—You—You snooped—"

"I'm sorry, baby. I wouldn't have looked if I knew you'd be upset about it," he said, stepping closer. "But you shouldn't be. Nothing to be embarrassed about here."

You looked down at the socks on your feet instead of Harry coming closer to you. He said there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you couldn't help but feel it creeping along your skin. You didn't do anything wrong, but you felt dirty for some reason, like you'd gotten caught doing something you knew you shouldn't have.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you said, "So, are you going to tease me about it or what?"

"Nothing to tease about, baby. I already told you that. I just didn't realize you had a thing for cowboys, that's all."

You huffed. You knew you weren't getting off that easy. "Shut up."

"No really," Harry said. You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've gotten a hat, gotten the right jeans. Is that why you're into that show now? The one with all the cowboys and horseback riding and—"

"Alright, alright. I get it," you said, finally looking at him. Looking up at him, more like. Harry was practically toe to toe with you, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know what? I'm taking me and my Kindle upstairs and I'm going to finish reading Jack—what did you call it?—ravish Delilah."

Harry let you stomp away in a huff, chuckling at your back as you left the den. Going up to the bedroom you shared with Harry, you settled on the bed and turned your Kindle back on.

Your eyes flitted across the screen, tracking over each word but not really reading them. You wanted to lose yourself in the story, in the scene laid out before you, but you couldn't.

"So, is it the hats that do it for you? Or the accents?"

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your Kindle to the side. Harry leaned against the doorframe, his eyes still holding that mirth in them. Narrowing your eyes at him, you said, "The ruggedness, I think. There's something so...manly about a guy on a horse and doing honest work, manual labor. Know what I mean?"

His nose wrinkled as he laughed. "Ha ha. I think I'm gonna have to download some other kinds of novels on there. Ones about rockstars falling for their fans, maybe?"

Harry began crawling onto the bed toward you, only stopping when you pressed a foot to his chest. "Really?"

"Definitely more rooted in reality than your wrangler fantasies," he said, then turned his head to the side. Pushing back your yoga pants, Harr pressed a tiny kiss to your ankle, then worked his way up your leg, toward the back of your knee. "Take these off, baby. And pick up that book of yours too."

You didn't need to be told twice about ditching your pants, but the book part made you pause. "Why the book? You were teasing me about it not even a minute ago."

"I am going to make sure you enjoy it," Harry said, though it sounded more like a promise.

Excitement flipped in your belly, your cheeks flushed with anticipation. "Yeah? Maybe next time I'll get you a cowboy hat."

Harry raised his brows, a crooked smile inching up his face. "I could get behind that. Now don't make me ask you again, baby."

Harry tugged on your ankle until you lay flat against the mattress with a squeak. "I'm going, I'm going!" you cried with an excited giggle, shoving your yoga pants down and wriggling out of them. Harry's hands, which were calloused from years of playing the guitar were rough against your skin, but it sent a lick of curling heat down your spine.

"The book, baby. Go on."

Your lips pursed as you looked at Harry. His lips were wet from where he'd swiped his tongue over them, the pads of his fingers trailing up and down the skin of your inner thighs. The light stubble of his cheeks scratched your skin, but it didn't hurt, it felt thrilling as he looked up at you through his lashes, green eyes glinting with promise.

Keeping eye contact, you reached for the abandoned Kindle, clicking it on and looking down at where you left off. Harry continued to lean against your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down while you settled against the bed. Nothing for one page, then more nothing, then he began to prop your leg up, then the other.

"Jack flipped Delilah over, his hands splaying across her bare back until they found purchase in the tresses of her dark red hair. 'Come on,' Delilah panted, already breathless from the mere anticipation of him filling her. It hadn't been long since they last fucked, but it felt like an age. She needed it more than she cared to admit. Badly enough that she was willing to do it in a dusty old barn. 'What are you waiting for—' 'Maybe I should put it in your mouth instead. That'll shut you up—"

"Oh." You gasped, pleasure tingling through your whole body.

"Is that me or Jack?" Harry asked, his voice vibrating through you, nose nudging against you in a way that had your toes curling.

"Jack," you teased, then arced your back against the bed with a groan.

"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me," he said before parting your legs further. "Keep going. Don't put it down until I tell you."

"But—Ow!"

Harry kissed the juncture of your thigh, right where he'd pinched it. "Keep going," he repeated.

"Rude," you muttered but picked the e-reader nonetheless.

When you continued, so did Harry. It was hard to keep focus. Not when teased with his nose, or when he expertly worked you over with his tongue, especially not when he thrust his fingers inside you relentlessly. Still, you waited, still you read, waiting for Harry to tell you you could stop.

You were two orgasms in when he finally looked up, chin glistening and evil smirk shining as he glanced up at you. "I think that was all me, don't you?"

"Shut up and fuck me," you said airily, breaths still falling heavily. Giggling, you continued. "That I got from Delilah."

Harry crept up the bed until his face was level with you. His nose against yours before kissing it. "Tell me more."

"I could tell you," you said with a grin that matched Harry's. Reaching for the waistband of his shorts and briefs, you began to tug. "But I think we'd both have more fun if I showed you."

Harry leaned onto his back and rested his arms above his head, settling back with a grin as you climbed on top of him. His eyes rolled back blissfully to a single roll of your hips before they settled back on you.

"Show me then, baby."

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part XI (act I)

Word count: 19,894 Warnings: Language, blood/injury, temporary suicide, imprisonment, experimentation, dehumanization, kissing, mentioned gore/eye horror, emotional abuse, fictional racism, discussion of starvation/vomiting, drowning Summary: Tango is forced to finally confront his past at Hels Tek, this time with Jimmy and friends behind him. But he soon finds that there are some battles he must fight alone, the outcome of which will change his life- and the universe- forever.

A/N: Well, here we are. The final chapter of ‘from eden.’ Now ofc, I still have lots more for the HTP au planned, but this is where the ranchers’ main plotline will conclude. Thanks for all the support along the way, it’s been an absolute pleasure to write. For the finale, I wanted to go big, so I did something I haven’t done in this fic before: I switch back and forth between different POVs, and different times via flashbacks. Hopefully it all makes sense.

Also, due to Tumblr’s paragraph limit, I had to split this into two acts again. Link to the second one at the bottom. Hope you enjoy please reblog/comment if you do! - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part XI (act I) - honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror years ago

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player kneels on the ground with his hands chained behind his back.

He’s instantly recognizable, of course. A blaze hybrid, with pointed black-tipped ears poking out from messy blond hair, dull blaze rods hovering around his temples. His red eyes are downcast, sharp teeth bared in a slight grimace. His face, from what’s visible, is discolored by bloodstains and fresh bruises. An iron collar is still locked around his throat, red light shining out like a solitary eye.

Atlas is gratified to see that they were unable to dismantle his handiwork. He had a feeling they wouldn’t; not if they actually cared about not causing Tango harm.

“Well, well, well.” Atlas grins as he approaches. “Hello, Mr. Tango.”

“That’s close enough.”

Bravo’s voice rings out across the valley. He’s standing beside Tango, sword at the ready. Despite being the one to have extended this invitation in the first place, he’s evidently not taking any chances.

Atlas stops, raising a hand for his convoy to do the same. Separated by a distance of ten or so blocks, he can see just how poorly Bravo seems to be doing; haggard and blood-stained, yet still rife with tension, his wary eyes ringed with dark circles. Clearly, the last couple weeks haven’t been kind to him.

(Of course, Atlas had a hand in that.)

He’s alone, as promised- though Atlas knew that already from the unseen scout he sent ahead ten minutes ago. The place Bravo’s arranged their meeting isn’t where his base lies, that much is certain. It’s a large nether waste biome, lifeless and smoldering, surrounded by steep blackstone cliffs on either side. Probably at least an hour from where Bravo’s been hiding, and where the portal must’ve spawned when Tango arrived.

(Of course Bravo wouldn’t lead Atlas to his front door. He’s too cautious for that. Especially if he’s still protecting that ragged black-winged avian that some of Alisker’s men have reported seeing with him. Atlas is mildly disappointed by his absence. But it’s just as well; he doubts those feathers were in good condition, anyways. Would’ve made for shoddy arrows.)

Bravo’s keen gaze sweeps over Atlas’s assembled company. The two dozen armed thugs would’ve been enough to make anyone hesitate, but the effect is much greater with their small fleet of flying machines hovering overhead. Each ship has a dedicated gunner; a player with a crossbow positioned at the front. Their supply of slowness arrows would efficiently incapacitate anyone attacking from the ground or sky. Just one of the extra security measures Atlas prepared for this trip, to say nothing of what he’s set up back home.

Another such measure was the addition of weighted nets to their arsenal, woven from thick chains and studded with wither rose thorns, to ensnare any mob hybrids or monster players they might encounter. It’s not often that Atlas sees a player so much bigger and stronger than the average, like the massive zombie or the wolf, but he won’t be caught off-guard again. That plus respawn anchors on the ships and chests stocked with potions has left him fairly confident in their chances, should this turn out to be an ambush.

Almost a shame that doesn’t seem to be the case. But as always, he’d rather have such defenses and not need them than need them and not have them.

“Mr. Bravo,” Atlas greets him politely. “I must admit, I was rather surprised that you reached out to me, considering we left on… shall we say, less than friendly terms.”

(A generous way of putting it, to be certain. Their last encounter ended with Bravo killing himself to escape to spawn after Atlas was forced to finally show his hand. He does regret that the circumstances had required him to go against Bravo’s wishes; it would’ve been preferable to keep him as an ally. But when he refused to let them take the avian back to Hels Tek, well, Atlas hadn’t been left with much of a choice. Nor had he when Bravo insisted he wouldn’t help them open another portal. Such is life.)

“Oh, shut up,” Bravo snaps. “I- I’m not in the mood for the fuckin’ small talk, alright? You want Tango, you’ve got him. Now take him and leave me the hell alone.”

“Ah, short-tempered as ever,” Atlas hums. “Very well. However, forgive my prying, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind regaling me with the details of how exactly you came by our friend, here?”

(He can infer certain things well enough from chat, of course. He assumes Tango and that other player, SolidarityGaming, came through the portal first and attempted to make contact with Bravo before the rest of the server showed up. It appears that Bravo killed them all in order to capture Tango, but Atlas would rather hear it from him firsthand.)

Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah so, he opened a portal from his end, and tried to… I dunno, reason with me? I guess? He gave me this whole sob story about how he didn’t mean to send me here, apologizing, all that nonsense, but I uh, I don’t buy it.” He scowls down at Tango. “I think he was just tryin’ to win me over, so I’d help him get the key to that collar thingie from you.”

Tango tenses at his words but says nothing, gaze still fixed on the ground before him.

“Anyway,” Bravo continues, looking up at Atlas again, “it wasn’t hard to beat his ass. And his avian buddy who came through after him, I beat his ass, too. They’re shit PVPers.”

Atlas nods sagely. 

(He’d noted a wide variation of skill level amongst the players of Tango’s world, but even the most skilled of them would likely have trouble taking on the average Hels player in one-on-one combat. A group ambush with a large pack of wolves is a rather different thing.)

“Got all the others in a lava trap after the fact,” Bravo says, “but uh, then the avian broke free and tried to stop me, so uh, you know, push came to shove and…”

Atlas gives him a knowing look. “You lost your temper again?”

“None of your damn business,” Bravo hisses, but he looks away as he says it.

“Mmm.” Atlas folds his arms behind his back. “You’re rather fortunate that the bond they shared didn’t transfer to this world, or you would’ve lost Tango as well.” He’d never seen or heard of players sharing health, but then again, he’d never been to worlds outside of Hels before. Whether or not the connection existed off-world was anyone’s guess.

Bravo rolls his eyes at that. “Yeah, thanks, I- I figured that out while I was fightin’ them. Give me a little credit, jeeze.”

“Of course.” Atlas inclines his head. “Well, I appreciate your assistance, Mr. Bravo. I suspect you’ll be taking your leave, then?”

“Yeah, I’m leavin’ through their portal,” Bravo says, lifting his chin. “But uh, once I’m gone, I’m gonna break it so- so you shouldn’t have to worry about anyone else from that world showin’ up again.”

(A small part of Atlas wonders if the overworld players might’ve done that themselves already. It’d be the smart thing to do, to prevent any unwanted visitors. But he’s also aware that overworld players seem far too sentimental for their own good. If they cared enough to come here after Tango, then they would be loath to eliminate their best chance at finding him again.

No, they would leave that portal open at any cost. Bravo ought to be prepared to fight them in order to break it. But no matter- if he is unsuccessful, and the overworlders come through again, Atlas will find out via chat long before they arrive at his doorstep. He has nothing to worry about in that regard. He would even welcome the addition of a few more hybrid-powered farms. After all, with Tango back, he can once again set his sights on plans for the Phase Two expansion.)

“Excellent,” Atlas says. “Then I suppose that concludes our business.”

“Sure does.” Bravo picks up a foot and plants it squarely against Tango’s back, sending him face-first into the ground. Tango grunts in pain, but remains where he is. “Now, you can have your guys come grab him, okay, but don’t- don’t try anything shifty, alright? I’m not in the mood for another fucking backstab.”

Atlas idly waves a hand, permitting the two guards at his side to move forward. “Oh, no need to concern yourself with that, Mr. Bravo,” he says. “Your usefulness to me has always started and ended with leading me to Tango.”

Bravo’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing as the guards drag Tango away. He simply watches, grip tight around his sword; he’ll likely wait until they’re out of sight before returning to his base, just to be safe.

(His continued caution, while generally wise to have in Hels, is unfounded. Atlas has no further need of him, and there’s no reason to waste any more time or energy going after him. Some of the pettier, more short-sighted residents of Hels would try to get a kill in, just out of spite. But Atlas is quite satisfied to have won in the end, and has no desire for payback. Not when Bravo could so easily become a problem again. No, best to let it end here.)

Tango, for his part, remains silent as well. It’s evident that he took quite a beating; he’s limp in their grasp, head hanging forward, making no movement as he’s brought before Atlas. It’s oddly reminiscent of the last time they were face-to-face back in the overworld. He’d been just as resigned then, and that was before they even put the collar on him.

“Not going to fight, Mr. Tango?” Atlas asks, mock surprise dripping from his voice.

Tango finally lifts his head, glaring weakly up at Atlas. “What’s the point?”

Atlas’s grin sharpens.

(And here lies the beauty of his trap. His real trap, not the one they set for Tango back in the overworld. The trap of the mind. Decades in the making, represented by the still-present cuffs on his wrists, the collar locked around his throat. A broken spirit is a far more effective prison than anything Atlas can build in a lab.)

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he hums, turning towards the ships. “Now, let’s get you home. Farewell, Mr. Bravo,” he adds over his shoulder.

Bravo doesn’t reply, but Atlas can feel his eyes burning into his skull the entire walk back.

~*~

Tango scans his comm with wide eyes, his heart starting to pound.

All the Double Lifers are here. In Hels. Once again, despite his best efforts, his friends have insisted on putting themselves in danger for his sake. He really shouldn’t be surprised. And sure, it’s touching, but it’s also scary as hell. While he might’ve warmed up to the idea of actually letting the people who care about him help solve his problems, that doesn’t mean he wants them traipsing around Hels on their own.

“What is this?” Bravo demands. His gaze darts around the cavern, as if the others are going to appear out of thin air around him. “What’s goin’ on?”

Jimmy inhales through his teeth. “The others must’ve seen that we left and came through the portal after us.”

Tango nods. “Yeah, I- I didn’t get a chance to break it, so-”

“Wait,” Bravo says, “you were gonna break the portal?”

Tango gives him an incredulous look. “Uh, yeah, of course I was gonna break the portal!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up. “I- I wanted to avoid this exact situation, them comin’ here after me, or- or any Hels players goin’ through to Double Life! Breakin’ the portal was the only way.”

Bravo’s eyes narrow. “Are you- that would’ve trapped us here, are you insane?” he hisses. “If you’re here, I can’t open a portal to you. I mean, I- Timmy could’ve done it, instead, but- but you didn’t know he was with me!” He takes a step forward, placing himself between them and Timmy. “Did you even think about that? What did- how were you plannin’ on getting us outta here, huh?”

The sudden suspicion in his voice takes Tango aback. It’s a borderline accusation, almost implying that he came here under false pretenses. As if he could hate Bravo enough to willingly strand himself in Hels forever, just to screw Bravo over.

It’s a very Hels kind of thought.

“Hey, back off!” Jimmy warns, his wings puffing up defensively.

Tango holds his hands up. “Woah, woah, take it easy! I knew the risks, yeah, but I- I figured between the two of us, we could reconstruct a portal and- and then find some random Hels player to use? We’d escape Hels to some random world, wherever their counterpart was, and at that point, our comms would be able to open portals again.” He clears his throat. “I uh, I wasn’t about to let you back into Double Life after everything, okay, but I- I wasn’t gonna let you stay here, either.”

“Oh.” Bravo looks away. The tension leaves him as quickly as it came. “Right, right, sorry.”

Tango exhales slowly. “It’s fine.”

He knows better than to take it as a personal insult; after all, he keenly recalls a time when he used to be paranoid like that, too. When he’d first joined Hermitcraft, he’d second-guessed everything, even though the Hermits had given him absolutely no reason to do so. It was just something ingrained in him from growing up in a world where everyone was out to get him.

Evidently, Bravo’s learned that lesson during his time in Hels, too.

“Uh, guys,” Jimmy interjects, “we should go get ‘em before they get hurt, or- or stray too far from the portal.”

“Right, right.” Tango glances at Bravo. “Uh, can you trigger that dropchute skadoodler from down here? To open the top?”

Bravo nods. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, hang on…” He turns and hits a well-camouflaged deepslate button on the wall. Pistons churn, and the wall opens up into his hidden entrance, a dimly-lit hallway stretching beyond it.

Tango’s abruptly reminded of how he used to hide his own Hels base. “Nice,” he says, before he can help himself. “The uh, secret button thing. Very smart.”

Bravo squints at him for a moment, as if debating whether the compliment was genuine. “Sure,” he finally settles on, before looking over his shoulder at Timmy. “Give a shout if you need anything.” Then he disappears around the corner.

“I’ll send Impulse a message,” Tango says, pulling up his chat. “Jimmy, can you fly up there and get ‘em? They can just drop down through the chute, we’ll put some water down or somethin’ in case they land where the cobwebs have been cleared.”

“Right, good call.” Jimmy presses a quick kiss to Tango’s forehead before turning away. “Back in a flash.”

Wings flaring, he takes off up the dropchute. Tango quickly drafts a whisper to Impulse- just a quick ‘stay put, jimmy otw’- before turning to the pit. He normally doesn’t care much for water, but he’d made sure to bring a bucket with him. Even though he’s not good at the whole MLG bucket clutch thing, he knew it could help in a pinch, and water-containing biomes in Hels are few and far between.

“Oh!” Timmy pipes up. “I have water, too!”

Tango looks over in surprise. “Oh, thanks. Yeah, here, just… fill in where the gaps are, okay?” 

Timmy nods, shuffling over to stand beside Tango as he pulls a water bucket from his inventory.

It really is strange. They have the exact same voice, only Timmy’s is slightly fainter. Like he’s afraid to speak at full volume. He’s also got this nervous, hesitant way of moving- as if Tango’s going to reprimand him for getting too close. Even though he’s not Jimmy, it pulls at Tango’s heartstrings to see someone so similar to the man he loves in such a desperate state.

It’s a stark reminder of what Tango already knows. Hels has plenty of violent, cruel players that like to throw their weight around, but there are plenty of victims, too.

“There.” Tango puts his empty bucket away, surveying their handiwork. “That should do it.”

Timmy eyes the dropchute apprehensively. “Are they... all comin’ down here? All at once?”

Tango softens. “Hey, it’s alright. These are good friends of mine, okay, you- they aren’t gonna cause trouble.” 

“Yeah.” Bravo pokes back out from the hallway, crossing over to them. “I wouldn’t let ‘em hurt you, anyways.”

Tango snorts. Distrust notwithstanding, the protectiveness is kind of cute to see. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bravo asks, immediately on-guard again.

“Nothing!” Tango insists, exasperated. “Gosh, would you- can you maybe chill out a bit? There’s no sneaky double-cross here, alright, I- I’m not like Atlas.”

Bravo blinks. “I know that,” he says uncertainly.

Tango wisely chooses not to point out his tone. “Okay, then.”

Timmy looks anxiously between them. “Are we… is everythin’ alright?” he asks, fidgeting with his hands. “There’s not gonna be anymore fightin’, is there?”

Bravo grimaces. “No, no, sorry. We’re good.” He glances sidelong at Tango. “I uh, I think some of these other guys might have… mixed feelings, seein’ me again, but I’m not gonna start anything.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “Don’t worry, I- I’m sure Jimmy will give them the low-down. None of them would just attack on sight, anyways.”

Bravo tenses, like he’s taken it as another slight against him, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Right.”

Before an awkward silence can descend, Jimmy’s voice echoes down the dropchute.

“Incoming!”

Tango puts an arm out, prompting Bravo and Timmy to back up from the edge of the pit. Jimmy swoops out from the chute a second later, followed closely by Grian and Pearl, wings fanning out to glide. The rest of the Double Lifers plunge behind them, landing amongst the cobwebs and water streams in a cacophony of shouts.

From there, it’s a chaotic few minutes as they work to help everyone else out of the pit. Swords make quick work of the cobwebs, hastily-placed blocks serving as a makeshift stairwell. There are lots of overlapping questions and exclamations, of course, as Tango reunites with his friends- demands to know what he was thinking and why he decided to tackle Hels by himself, which he expected.

But there are lots of tight hugs, too. Their anger is short-lived, fueled only by the fear that they’d lost him for good. It’s a mix of emotions. He’s humbled and relieved, sheepish but reassured by his friends’ care for him. All the while, though, he’s keeping an eye on Bravo and Timmy out of the corner of his eye, part of his mind keenly aware that they’re working with limited time.

“Hey, so,” he says eventually, clapping his hands, “uh- I hate to cut the reunion short, guys, but we gotta get goin’ here.”

Jimmy slips into place beside him, draping a wing over his shoulders. “Right,” he says, lifting his voice to address the room. “Um, so you guys already know Bravo. And uh, this is Timmy, my- my doppelgänger I was tellin’ you about.”

Bravo merely offers a nod, Timmy shyly peeking out from behind him- which is almost impressive, considering their height difference. The chorus of greetings that resounds from the Lifers makes him shrink back even further, so the room quickly hushes again. Tango can tell that everyone is incredibly curious about Timmy, but they’re kindly holding back for his sake.

Jimmy gives a half-hearted smile. “He’s, uh- he’s a bit shy, you see.”

“So.” Impulse steps out from the group, walking right up to Bravo- who steps forward to meet him. “Jimmy uh, he told us that you and Tango came to an understanding,” he says, staring Bravo down, “that you’re gonna help us out.”

Bravo lifts his chin. “That’s right.”

“Well, I wanna hear it from you,” Impulse says evenly. His golden eyes are hard in a way that Tango rarely sees. “I wanna actually hear that uh… you’re sorry for everything you did.”

Tango puts a hand out. “Impulse, now’s really not the time-”

“No,” Bravo says, unexpectedly. “No, I- I suppose that’s fair.” He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flitting over the group. “I mean, I don’t blame you for not trustin’ me, it was your home that I helped invade.”

“And our friend you hurt!” Scar adds indignantly. He’s got an arrow notched in his bow, though he has yet to draw it.

Bravo winces. “Right. Well, I was wrong, okay? I was wrong to help Atlas attack you, and to say all that stuff about Tango, and blame him for this whole Hels situation.” He exhales heavily. “I’m sorry.”

Impulse studies Bravo for a moment, his forked tail lashing back and forth, before he eases back. “Alright, then.” He folds his arms, evidently satisfied, and turns to Tango. “So, what’s the plan?”

Tango lets out a breath, grateful for the change of topic. “Well, we know Atlas has the key to this stupid collar thing. But I mean, I’m not sure how we’re gonna get it from him.” 

Grian raises his brows, eyes wide behind his tinted shades. “Um, hang on a second… so- so you dipped through the portal on a mission to Hels, by yourself, in the middle of the night… and you didn’t even have a plan?”

Tango feels himself flush. “Hey, I- I was under a lotta stress, okay!” he defends. “I wasn’t thinkin’ that far ahead!”

Luckily Impulse cuts back in. ��Do we know where Atlas is now?”

Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “Hels Tek is a few days away on foot, but they’ve got flying machines. They can make the trip in a fraction of the time. They’re probably already out there looking for Tango- or, at least, they’re gonna be real soon.”

Impulse rubs his chin. “Why don’t we just lure him here, then, and jump him?”

“Oh hey, yeah,” Jimmy chimes in, “we could have Bravo send him a message askin’ him to meet, like he’s sellin’ Tango out?”

Bravo frowns. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Jimmy asks, rounding on Bravo. “We made quick work of ‘em last time.”

Bravo holds his hands up. “Look uh, no offense,” he starts, immediately making everyone tense, “but you guys only won last time ‘cause Atlas didn’t expect much of a fight. He brought all those guys just for Tango. Didn’t help that they were some of the dumbest grunts I’ve ever seen. Plus, you uh, you had about a gazillion wolves to act as cannon fodder, so.”

Ren pins his ears back in obvious offense. “Uh, really?”

“Excuse me?” Pearl demands, crossing her arms. “I dunno ‘bout cannon fodder, now…”

“Yeah,” Joel jumps in, “uh, I’m pretty sure we destroyed those guys.”

“Yeah!” Bdubs echoes, puffing out his chest. “We- we ain’t scared’a no punks!”

Bravo scowls. “You guys are missing the point-”

“And you’re not helpin’!” Jimmy retorts. 

“No,” Tango says, “Bravo’s right.”

The sudden surprise that falls over the room is palpable. Even Bravo seems taken aback by Tango agreeing with him. But despite the combined attention from each pair of eyes in the room, Tango doesn’t shy away.

He normally hates being in any sort of leadership role. Taking charge over a large group of people? No thanks. It’s tempting to just go with what his friends want to do, to let them help the way they want. But the stakes here are too high to let self-consciousness interfere. While he trusts his friends, he also knows that he and Bravo are the only ones who actually know Atlas, and know what Hels Tek can really do.

It’s up to him to make sure they don’t go with a bad plan, just because it’s the easier route.

“Listen,” Tango says, spreading his hands, “Atlas knows you guys are here, okay, he would’ve seen you join in chat. He- he’s not gonna- even if we lure him here under the guise of handin’ me over, alright, he’s gonna be on guard and much better prepared than last time. That fight ain’t goin’ our way, trust me.”

Jimmy gives him a searching look. “Are you sure?” he asks softly, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Y’know, we- we aren’t afraid to fight.”

“I know,” Tango assures him. He reaches up to squeeze Jimmy’s hand, offering a faint smile. “And I appreciate it. But I- I’m not gonna just let you guys walk into certain death. We gotta be careful about this, okay? ‘Cause this,” he gestures at his collar, “is what Atlas came up with the last time he was able to plan ahead, and uh, that’s barely scratching the surface of what he’s capable of.”

Jimmy sobers at the reminder. Thankfully, the sentiment appears to sink in for the other Lifers as well, reflected in their expressions and dissipating tension.

Bravo gives Tango an acknowledging look- probably the closest thing he can muster to a ‘thank you.’ “Yeah, Atlas is a crafty bastard,” he says. “He’s- the only time he’s really vulnerable is when he thinks he’s got the upper hand. That’s when he slips up, when his hubris gets the better of him.”

Tango nods. “Atlas isn’t gonna relax ‘til I’m locked back in that farm.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, it hits him. Tango inhales sharply, and he can tell from the way Bravo’s eyes widen that they’ve both had the exact same thought.

“... oh.”

~*~

Relief floods through Bravo as the netherrack hill finally comes into view.

Before he and Tango left to meet Atlas, they’d decided to hide the portal in case anyone happened upon it. Neither of them had much skill in the way of terraforming, but they’d managed to scrape together a crude mound of netherrack that could pass as naturally-generated terrain, sloped to meet the surrounding landscape. He’d even lit a few pieces on fire with flint and steel as a final touch to help it blend in. It was probably overkill, considering he’d chosen to hide in this area for its seclusion in the first place, but better safe than sorry.

His feet are starting to ache from all the walking he’s done today, but he breaks into a jog as he closes the final distance. “You there, Timmy?” he calls, as loudly as he dares.

A block of netherrack pops out from the side of the hill, Timmy’s pale face appearing in the gap. “Bravo! You’re back!” Despite the faintness of his voice, he sounds overjoyed to see Bravo- like he always does, every time Bravo is apart from him. 

Like he’s never certain if Bravo will come back.

“Hey.” Switching to his pickaxe, Bravo mines another block away to make an entrance. “You uh, you didn’t see anyone snoopin’ around here, right?”

Timmy backs up to let him inside. “No, all quiet.”

“Good.” Bravo quickly puts the blocks back into place behind him. Stashing his pickaxe in his inventory, he leans against the wall, blinking as he adjusts to the green-yellow-red light from the portal.

“Did it- did it go okay?” Timmy asks, wringing his hands together. Colored light swirls in the hollows of his cheeks.

Bravo nods. “Yeah, he bought it. They’re on their way back to Hels Tek now, should be there in a couple more hours.” He checks his clock and sets a timer on his comm; the day-night cycle is world-dependent, so they need to make sure they come back at the right time.

“Oh, that’s good.” Timmy’s wings ruffle behind him; even after Bravo trimmed the lower feathers, they still drag on the ground. “So… it’s all goin’ to plan so far?”

“Yep. Don’t worry.“ Bravo puts his comm away and pushes off from the wall, clearing his throat. “So uh, are- are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah.” Timmy lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I… I think so. It’s… hard to believe it’s finally happenin’, you know?”

A bittersweet smile tugs at Bravo’s mouth. He’ll be returning to Hels within the day, but at least Timmy can get out. “Yeah, I know.”

“You promised me we would,” Timmy murmurs, his eyes soft. “Remember? You promised me we’d leave Hels, and now… now we are. I’d never- if it weren’t for you, I never would’a had the courage to leave, I- I’d still be at spawn.”

Bravo glances away, shrugging. “Maybe.”

“No, I know I would be.” Timmy dares to take a step forward. Even with his shoulders hunched and wings curled around him, he towers over Bravo in the cramped space. “Thank you.”

Bravo looks up at him, his throat tightening. “I don’t… you know I- I didn’t help you for the right reason,” he makes himself say. “Right?”

Timmy makes a noncommittal noise. “Maybe. Does it… does it really matter, now?”

Bravo’s eyes trace the sharp edges of Timmy’s hair; hair he’d cut in the misguided pursuit of a projected ideal. “It does to me.”

Of course Timmy wouldn’t hold it against him. Half a lifetime spent alone has left him desperate for any kind of love, just as starved for it as he is for food. He would probably tolerate far worse than Bravo’s done if it meant not being lonely again. But that doesn’t make it okay. Just because Timmy might be willing to forgive him doesn’t mean he deserves it.

Timmy’s face falls. “Oh. Oh, okay…”

Bravo pushes down his guilt. He doesn’t have time to hash out this kind of personal business, not when the whole Hels Tek mess still needs to be resolved. “Now let’s get goin’, the others are waiting.”

“Right.” Timmy backs away, gaze downcast to hide his disappointment. “After you, then.”

Squaring his shoulders, Bravo turns and walks into the light.

~*~

As soon as the words leave Tango’s mouth, Jimmy immediately realizes what they’re thinking.

“No,” he says. “No, no, no, no, no, no way.” 

Tango turns to him, beseeching. “Jimmy-”

“No!” Jimmy insists, sweeping an arm out. “We aren’t- there’s no way we’re gonna let him put you back in that farm, Tango, it’s absolutely not happening!”

It’s insane to even consider it. After all the time Tango spent withering away in that farm, chained up like an animal, Jimmy would rather pull his feathers out than let Tango step back in there for even a second. He still has nightmares about that place a decade later; Jimmy fears this would completely break him.

(Come on, where’s your sense of drama?)

(What, do you have a better plan?)

(You can’t protect him forever.)

Bravo takes a step towards them. “Just hear us out-”

“You stay out of it!” Jimmy snaps, wings bristling. “I didn’t ask-”

“We’re on the same side, here!” Bravo protests.

“Don’t you start with that-”

“Hey.” Tango puts a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I know it’s not ideal, alright, but think about it. If we try to jump Atlas when he gets here, things are gonna turn out badly. He’ll be expecting it. But if we make him think he’s won, he’ll let his guard down. That’s the best chance we’ll have at pullin’ this off.”

Unfortunately, it makes sense. Jimmy hasn’t spent that much time around Atlas, while Tango and Bravo both worked with him for years. He has to trust their judgement.

(Ooh, this should be interesting.)

Jimmy swallows. “I… you’re probably right, but does it have to be that?” He cups Tango’s face, gently brushing his thumb over a darkening bruise. “I don’t- you’ve been through enough already, I- I don’t want you to suffer.”

Affection glimmers in Tango’s eyes. “I know,” he says, covering Jimmy’s hand with his own. “But I uh, I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought I couldn’t handle it, alright? It won’t be for that long, I’ll be okay.” He glances at the rest of the group. “I promise.”

(Famous last words…)

Some of the Lifers exchange worried looks or uncertain murmurs, but ultimately, they seem to come to the same realization as Jimmy.

“If you’re absolutely sure…” Impulse relents.

Bravo clears his throat. “Good, that’s settled.” He doesn’t sound very sympathetic. “Now we just gotta make Atlas think you guys are out of the picture.”

Jimmy crosses his arms with a huff. “And how do you propose we do that?”

“Simple,” Bravo says. “You all jump in a lava pit, and I tell Atlas I got you in a trap.”

The reaction is instantaneous, several voices protesting at once.

“Absolutely not!” 

“We aren’t gonna just leave you in Hels-”

“This is outrageous!”

“- can’t be serious?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Tango lifts his voice to quiet them, holding his hands up. “It’s the only way, alright? If Atlas sees your deaths in chat, he’ll know you respawned back home, so- so he won’t have any reason to suspect an attack when Bravo offers me up on a silver platter. If you guys don’t die, he might not even agree to meet.”

Jimmy fights to keep his voice steady. “So what, you just get thrown to the wolves? No backup at all?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Tango shrugs. “I don’t like it either, but making Atlas think he’s won is the best way to get one up on him.”

Jimmy frowns at his tone. He’s once again slipped into feigned nonchalance, acting as though he isn’t bothered at all by the prospect of being locked in the farm- the inhumane, painful, extremely traumatizing farm. Whether he’s pretending for their sake or his, Jimmy isn’t sure. The thought sits poorly with him either way.

But they don’t have a lot of options. If they don’t do this, the alternative would mean giving up and returning home, resigned to having that collar stuck on Tango forever- just like his cuffs. And he’s actually letting them help him this time, instead of trying to deal with it alone. Jimmy knows they can’t pass up this chance.

“Alright,” Jimmy sighs, running a hand through his hair, “so then… how are we gonna save you once you’re in Hels Tek?”

(Oh, go on then.)

(This should be good…)

(They just don’t know when to quit.)

Tango gives him a grateful look. “You’ll come back in the middle of the night, attack when he’s least expecting it.”

“Okay… sure,” Jimmy says hesitantly, “but once we come back through the portal, won’t our names show up in chat again, givin’ us away? I mean, even during the night, surely he’s got someone lookin’ out for that sorta thing?” 

“Yeah, we’d be right back at square one,” Impulse points out, “except it’d be even worse ‘cause you’ll be locked inside Hels Tek.” 

Grian knits his brows together. “Without flyin’ machines, it’s days away, right? They’ll have plenty’a time to mount a defense before we get there.”

“You won’t be coming back through that portal,” Tango says, jerking his head at the ceiling. “After the hand-off, Bravo’s gonna leave through it, and you’ll use him to open a new portal to me once I’m in the farm.”

Bravo folds his arms, nodding. “We’re gonna attack Hels Tek from the inside.”

~*~

It’s a long flight to Hels Tek.

Tango knew it would be, of course, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. His body aches from the cramped position he’s in, stowed in one of the minecart seats with his hands still chained behind his back. The jostling of the pistons rattles his bones, ringing in his ears and pounding against his skull.

Worst of all is the constant gleeful malice he’s subjected to from Atlas. The doctor chatters almost constantly throughout the entire trip, pausing only to type the occasional message on his comm. He goes on and on about how Hels Tek will finally return to its former glory, how they’ve proved all those doubters wrong, how this just goes to show what hard work and determination can accomplish, yada-yada-yada.

Tango tries his best to tune him out. Just listening to that voice makes chills break across his skin.

(Whenever he has nightmares about Hels Tek, Atlas is always the face of it. There were plenty of other scientists that tortured him, of course. Honestly, Atlas had very little to do with the hands-on side of things. But he was always there to oversee it. Always looming in the background with that sickly grin, observing every test, every new cruelty with his sharp gaze.

But more than that, he was the one who brought Tango to Hels Tek in the first place. Under the guise of offered allegiance, of guidance, of belonging. He was the one who first made Tango believe that he could be capable of more than he ever dreamed of. The one who told him there was another way, a better way, than the chaos and violence of Hels. He’d promised Tango a home, then turned around and betrayed him.)

It won’t be for very long, he reminds himself. He just needs to hang on for a few hours.

Eventually, Hels Tek emerges from the red mist. The facility has expanded in Tango’s absence. There’s a new addition built onto one side, and another floor added to the central structure- if the extra height is anything to go by. It towers before him imposingly, like a great, toothed maw ready to consume him.

The convoy of flying machines steers around the side of the building, over the surrounding lake of lava, and into the garage. There’s another team of players waiting for them inside, the cavernous room quickly filling with noise as they begin to unload. Tango keeps his head down as he’s man-handled from the flying machine, two guards taking up position on either side of him. Their thick hands nearly encircle the entire width of his arms, rendering any hope of escape null and void.

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have to escape, he just needs to wait.

Atlas nods at them. “Off we go, gentlemen.”

Hels Tek is a maze of hallways and doors, as always. Tango’s eyes track the polished quartz floor as they make turn after turn, mapping out the route in his mind. It’s gotten a few detours here and there, presumably to accommodate all the new expansions, but he recognizes their path as soon as they turn towards the south wing.

Despite himself, his heart starts to pound. He forces a slow breath through his nose.

He can do this. It won’t be for long. They have a plan- his friends will come for him soon. It’s not for forever.

Atlas opens the final door for them with a grand sweep of his arm. “Here we are!” he announces, ushering them inside. “I’m sure you’ll recognize it, Mr. Tango.”

The farm hasn’t changed that much since the last time Tango saw it- but with the way it’s burned into his memory, he’d notice any change, no matter how small. The glass in the front has been replaced- or maybe just cleaned- and there are quite a few more chains attached to the back wall than he remembers, including a short one that looks about neck height.

For the collar, he assumes. So he can’t repeat his last escape act.

He hadn’t intended to fight. He wanted Atlas to think he was resigned to his fate, completely and utterly defeated. That’d be the safer move, for sure. But then one of the guards equips a shimmering pickaxe, mining up the glass blocks to open the farm. And suddenly he’s being dragged towards it, towards the beckoning wither roses within, and every other thought and intention flies clean out of his mind.

Tango screams.

“No! No, no, no, don’t-” He writhes in the grip of his captors, mindless and desperate. “Don’t put me back in there! No, please!” 

It’s futile, of course. His pleas go unanswered, his feeble escape attempts easily overcome as the guards shove him into place. The first pricks of wither rose break skin. Panic threatens to overwhelm him. He screams with a voice that’s foreign to him, shrill and harsh in his ears, vision blurring with tears that are already starting to run cold and black.

“Oh dear,” Atlas tuts, somewhere behind him, “you know you’re simply delaying the inevitable, don’t you?”

Tango fights with all the remaining strength in his tired body, twisting and thrashing to the point of rubbing his own skin raw, trying in vain to lash out, to claw or strike or bite. But the guards are bigger, and stronger, and seem to have been expecting this. They pull one of his hands to the respawn anchor, forcing his spawn to reset. Then they wrestle the chains around him, overlapping the old cuffs around his wrists and locking new ones into place around his ankles, arms, and legs, and clipping onto his collar. Altogether, it renders even the slightest movement impossible.

“Honestly, I thought we trained you better than this. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Tango doesn’t think he’s even screaming words anymore. It’s almost animalistic, a wail of pure terror and desperation, his inner fire trying but failing to respond.

“You may have fooled your new ‘friends,’ but I know what you really are. What you’ve always been.”

As a final touch, they wind the wither rose vines tightly around his body, their thorns digging into his skin. The wither effect is in full force now- that choking blackness consuming him from the inside out. There was a time he’d gotten so used to being withered that he’d scarcely noticed it, not unless it went unchecked and overpowered his health enough to kill him. But after going so long without it, it’s far worse than he remembers; like being plunged into an icy lake. 

“And we can’t have you living a lie anymore, can we? Now you’re finally back where you belong.”

Satisfied with their handiwork, the guards step back and replace the glass wall of the enclosure, sealing Tango inside. His reflection stares back at him helplessly, a distorted sense of self.

Atlas steps forward, grinning broadly, and hits a button on the wall.

The hoppers above Tango unlock, immediately siphoning away the blaze rods hovering around his skull. The dispenser beside him spits out a potion of regeneration, particles fluttering around him as his health begins to even out.

Tango dissolves into broken sobs. The dread that envelops him is almost suffocating, all-consuming, stealing his breath as completely as the wither rose flooding his veins. Distantly, he tries to hold on to a shred of hope, the reminder that his friends will be coming to save him. But it’s hard to believe it, amidst the haze of crushing, freezing agony.

Atlas leers at him from behind the glass.

“Welcome home, Tango Tek.”

~*~

Jimmy chews his lip, his wings shuffling uncertainly behind him.

Invading Hels Tek in the middle of the night is a solid plan, he supposes- if a bit vague. But it’ll certainly put them in a much better position than meeting Atlas on an even playing field. If they open a portal to Tango, they can just show up in the heart of the facility, with no warning whatsoever. Then it’d just be a matter of finding Tango to break him out, finding Atlas to kick his ass, and then returning home through the portal without getting caught.

Simple.

“... I still don’t like it,” Jimmy says, “but if you think that’s the best way to get the drop on Atlas, then I’m with you.”

(Oh, I was hoping they’d go this route.)

(Hels Tek vs Double Life, round two? Yes, please!)

(Can’t wait to see this…)

Tango gives him an appreciative- though slightly apprehensive- smile. “Good. Good, that’s… the best chance I can see us havin’, yeah.”

“There’s one problem,” Bravo says, frowning. “I’m sure once Atlas has you back in the farm, he’s gonna assign a guard to watch you. And as soon as that guard sees a portal spawn in the room, he’s gonna alert Atlas or- or set off an alarm or somethin’, and by the time everyone’s through, our presence will already be known.”

Tango tilts his head. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he amends. “But it’ll give us a hell of a better head start. It’s still our best shot.” He crosses his arms. “Unless there’s anyone else here who’s got a doppelgänger in Hels Tek?”

He sounds like he’d meant it as a joke, but Bravo scans the group before shaking his head. “No, I- I only recognize a couple of you from your doppelgängers, and uh, they aren’t at Hels Tek.”

Jimmy only has a second to feel confused before Etho chimes in. “Oh, yeah, you mentioned that last time,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “That you’ve met my doppelgänger before?”

Bravo huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Your Hels is probably somewhere on the other side of the world right now, and he’s an asshole.” He nods at Impulse. “Your Hels might help us if we show up at his place, but uh, I- I don’t fully trust him. Think he’s got ulterior motives. And his place is still days from Hels Tek, we’d lose the surprise advantage, anyway.”

Impulse looks stunned. “Oh. Okay, then…”

“Hey!” Bdubs barks suddenly. “That’s- what’re you- hyaugh, you- what’s the big idea? Callin’ people- other people’s counterparts bad?” He puts his hands on his hips. “Like- like you’re a barrel a’roses, yourself?”

Bravo shrugs. “Well, sorry, but it’s true.”

An abrupt thought grabs Jimmy. The way Bravo’s acting right now- everything from his terse posture to his bored expression to his flippant tone- is exactly how Tango acts when he’s trying to pretend that he’s unaffected. It’s so obvious, now that Jimmy’s actually looking.

Clearly, his friends’ counterparts have made a greater impression on Bravo than he wants to let on. Must’ve been some pretty… intense experiences, to have left such an impact.

That’s… an uncomfortable thought for another time. Not that it would reflect at all on Etho or Impulse, of course- Jimmy knows better than anyone that all doppelgängers are their own people. It’s just… he hasn’t really given much thought to what his friends’ counterparts might be like, whether any of them would be as nasty and cruel as the players who invaded from Hels Tek.

Tango seems just as uneasy about this topic. “Okay, so- so what are you sayin’?” he asks shortly.

Bravo spreads his hands. “Hey, openin’ a portal to you once you’re inside is still our best option, okay, I mean- I’m just sayin’ we’ll just have to be ready to move, quick.”

“Um yeah, we got that,” Jimmy says, managing not to roll his eyes. “I- I wouldn’t expect any of us to be lollygaggin’ anyways-”

“Hey,” Bravo snaps, “we’ve only got one shot at this, alright? I’m just-”

“Actually,” Grian speaks up unexpectedly, stepping forward. “I… might know a better way. But uh, not unless everyone gets real cool about a bunch’a stuff really quickly.”

Jimmy exchanges a look with Tango, seeing his surprise mirrored in his expression. The room’s attention shifts to Grian, equal parts curiosity and confusion.

(No, surely he’s not gonna…)

(Oh wow, did not see that coming!)

(It’s about time, huh?)

Scott folds his arms. “Go on,” he says cooly, his eyes narrowing. For some reason, it almost seems like he knows what Grian’s about to say. 

Grian swallows. “So, I... have this ability to uhh… kinda, sorta... see between worlds? Like, if I know what I’m lookin’ for, I can uh... project myself, in a sense, and view players without them knowin’.”

Whatever Jimmy might’ve been expecting to hear, it certainly wasn’t that. “Are you jokin’, mate?” he asks, knitting his brows together.

“No, no,” Grian says carefully, “I… I’m bein’ serious.”

Scar gasps. “Wha- Grian, you never told me you were a hacker!” he says indignantly. “You know how good spectator mode would be for pranks?”

Grian presses his mouth into a thin line. “It’s not spectator mode, Scar… though, I- I guess the idea’s similar.”

Jimmy’s mind races. He knows there are quite a few things in the universe that he doesn’t understand- mainly those in the game-breaking and modding communities- so he supposes this wouldn’t be completely out of the question. He’s just shocked that Grian’s never brought it up before now.

Though most of the group seems to share his surprise, there are a couple odd reactions among them. Scott merely nods, expression stony, while Martyn looks bewildered- except, not in the expected way. It’s less like he’s surprised to hear this ability exists, and more that he’s surprised to hear Grian has it.

But whatever’s going on with those two can wait. One thing at a time.

“Oh,” Bravo says, sounding somewhere between confusion and annoyance. “You, uh- is there a particular reason you didn’t mention this earlier, or…?”

Jimmy shoots him a look. “That’d be well helpful, then,” he tells Grian. “If you don’t mind?”

Grian looks away. “I uh, I don’t like to do it,” he says, by way of an explanation. “For- for a few reasons. And I can’t do it for very long. But um… if there’s a chance I’ll find someone else we can open a portal to, that would let us sneak in undetected… yeah, I don’t mind.”

Tango blinks, his eyes wide. “Um. Okay, wow, I- I mean- sure? That’s…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve never even heard of that before, how did- do you know how or- or why you’re able to-”

“Uh, Tango,” Jimmy cuts in gently, “maybe now’s not the time?”

He can tell from the way Grian’s wings are drawing up, feathers ruffled, that he’s uneasy with this line of questioning. Even though Tango has no ill intent, just the excitement of puzzling out a new discovery, there obviously must be reasons Grian’s kept this to himself for so long. It’s his right to decide when and how to share that information.

(Ah, gonna make that mistake again?)

“You’re right,” Tango says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right, sorry.”

Jimmy offers Grian a smile. “Thank you, for tellin’ us. We could use all the help we can get, so, I- I’d welcome some recon. Don’t really see how that could be a bad thing.”

Grian cracks a wry grin, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.

(You sure about that, Tim?)

The sudden echo of Grian’s voice in his head makes Jimmy jump. Realization crashes into him shortly after; he did hear Grian in his thoughts that one time! Well, that’s… kind of creepy, he’ll admit, but it’s a relief he’s not completely cracking under the stress. Not yet, anyways.

Grian falls silent and completely still- save for his breathing. He doesn’t even blink. It almost feels like he’s staring through Jimmy, rather than at him, and his eyes have definitely changed color- though, from behind the tinted lenses, Jimmy can’t tell which one. Maybe that’s the point.

A chill runs down his spine. Seems like Tango wasn’t the only one here living with a secret. But if this whole journey with Tango has taught Jimmy anything, that doesn’t mean Grian’s any less trustworthy. His past is his own business; Jimmy’s sure he’ll explain more when he’s ready.

After a few moments, Grian pushes his glasses up and grins. “I think I know a guy who can help us out.”

~*~

“Right,” Mumbo says. “Okay, uh- lemme see if I understand this.”

(The Double Lifers have settled in what he’s been told is Tango and Jimmy’s house- or, rather, their ranch? It’s charming, in a rustic sort of way, but also a bit cramped, if he’s honest. Especially in the basement, where they’re all gathered around a glowing red portal. A hacked nether portal, apparently. Goodness, what shenanigans they’ve gotten up to…

He’s familiar enough with the Double Life roster. Save for Lizzie and Skizz, it’s everyone else from Last Life- many of them Hermits he’s known for ages. The only one missing is Tango. Despite the fact that they joined Hermitcraft within a short timespan of each other, he regrets that he hasn’t actually gotten to know the other redstoner all that well. They’re friendly, of course- just as much as any of the other Hermits.

But Mumbo certainly didn’t know about any of… this.

So when Grian turned up on Hermitcraft out of the blue- after none of the Double Lifers had been seen ‘round in the last two weeks or so- and insisted Mumbo needed to join Double Life immediately to help Tango, he hadn’t known what to think. He’d agreed, of course, but the rapid-fire explanation Grian provided at the time is still… struggling, a bit, to sink in.)

Grian nods. He’s perched on top of the portal, his upper set of wings just barely brushing the ceiling. “Go on, then.”

Mumbo runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. We-” he gestures to the gathered players, “all have these... alternate-world doppelgänger versions of ourselves called Hels? Like- like Helsknight and Welsknight?”

“Yup.” Grian discretely wipes a purple-stained tear from behind his glasses. He must’ve done something his eyes didn’t like; Mumbo will privately check in later, make sure they don’t need any repairing while he’s here.

“And Tango is one of these Hels,” Mumbo continues, “for- for some guy named Bravo?”

“Yeah.” Jimmy, leaned against one side of the portal, has got an uncharacteristic glower on his face. His wings are drawn-up and ruffled in a way that Mumbo recognizes as unhappy. Seems he isn’t fond of this Bravo character, though Mumbo isn’t sure why he’s so personally invested- “He had this ridiculous notion that Tango ‘stole’ what should’ve been his life,” Jimmy scowls, “even thought we would’a been soulmates.”

(Oh, that’s right. He’s Tango’s soulmate, at the moment. That was the gimmick of this world, Grian explained, but for some of them it’s turned into something more. Yet another surprise; from what little time Mumbo spent around Jimmy in previous seasons, he hadn’t noted any feelings of that nature towards Tango. But then again, they don’t often have time to focus on feelings amidst the throes of a death game.)

“But he’s come around, now, right?” Impulse prompts from back of the room. He’s stood beside a sugar cane farm shoved in the corner, golden eyes shining in the dim light.

Jimmy glances away. “Right, yeah.”

“Right,” Mumbo says haltingly. “Which is… well, it’s a bit- it’s a bit strange, isn’t it? This whole idea of doppelgängers, and a just absolutely wild prison world, and…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Anyway. Right now, Tango is trapped on his home world, in an evil redstone lab that’s… usin’ him for a blaze farm?”

(The thought turns his stomach. Having spent much of his life living and working among all manner of mob hybrids, he can’t imagine ever doing such a horrible thing. Mobs- true, naturally spawned, full-coded mobs- are completely different entities from players. Anyone with even a basic understanding of data analysis knows that.

If these are redstone scientists of a supposedly high caliber, then either the state of technology in this Hels world is far behind that of the rest of the universe, and they truly believe Tango to be more mob than player… or they do understand, and just don’t care.)

Jimmy’s eyes darken. “Yeah. They’re evil, alright.”

Guess it’s the second thing, then.

Mumbo’s eyes trace the redstone circuitry surrounding the portal. “And you need my data in order to open a portal to my uh, my- my Hels guy, doppelgänger fella, who’s a scientist at said lab, so you can rescue Tango?”

“That’s right.” It’s Etho who confirms this time, his mismatched gaze staring down from atop the sugar cane farm. “The explanation’s kinda involved, but there’s like, a weird connection between counterparts that can be used to lock onto coords and open a portal, ‘cause uh, normal comm portals don’t work goin’ in or out of Hels.”

“Right.” Mumbo exhales slowly. He starts tugging at his mustache before he can remind himself to stop, snatching his hand back down again. “Um, well- well that explains a lot, actually, about Tango, and why we’ve gotten radio silence from Double Life for the last couple’a weeks.”

Grian winces. “Yeah, sorry, it’s uh... a bit of a long story. I’ll fill you in later, but right now, we gotta work out a proper plan to rescue Tango.”

“Oh, right.” Mumbo blinks, taken aback. He fusses with his tie. “Alright, um, I- I- I’m not sure how much help I’d be with PVP, but…”

Grian shakes his head. “No, you’re gonna stay here,” he says, to Mumbo’s immense relief. “Y’know, to make sure the portal stays up and runnin’. And if we’re not back by tomorrow, we’ll… need you to go get X.”

“Hang on,” Jimmy cuts in, craning his head up to look at Grian. “I- I thought Tango specifically didn’t want to involve-”

“If we all get stranded in Hels, or worse, then we’ve got no other choice,” Grian says plainly.

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck. “I… guess not.”

(Mumbo’s still catching up on all the dynamics at play, here. But from what he’s seen and been told, it wasn’t Tango’s choice to share his Hels heritage with the Double Lifers. He’d kept it secret all these years for good reason, apparently. Though, whether it was genuinely a good reason or it was something that Tango felt like was a good reason… Mumbo isn’t sure.

Everyone’s entitled to their own past. It’s not as if they often host group sharing circles on Hermitcraft. But spend enough time with someone, and certain things are bound to come up eventually. Mumbo’s gotten the sense before that Grian was far from the only Hermit keeping secrets. And he’s seen that squirrely, backed-into-a-corner look in Tango’s eyes enough to know he likely came from… less than ideal circumstances.

But that’s never been his business. After all, when Grian turned up on his redstone world one day with empty, bleeding eye sockets, Mumbo had helped him with no questions asked. The rest of the story came gradually, piece by piece.)

“Now,” Grian says, gaze flicking back to Mumbo, “Bravo and Timmy should be comin’ back through in a bit. We’ll close the portal behind ‘em, and then when the time is right, we’ll have you open another.”

“Right, okay…” Mumbo hesitates, scratching the back of his head. “Um, who’s Timmy?”

Grian groans. “I knew I forgot to mention somethin’.”

~*~

“Oh, I can’t believe it!” Tango cries, smacking his forehead. “Mumbo’s Hels was workin’ at Hels Tek this whole time? I- I- I can’t believe I never realized- oh wow, that’s- the powers of observation are just…”

He’s never recognized any of his friends as the counterpart to a player he knew in Hels. But how could he? It was so long ago- back then, he didn’t even know that Hels had overworld counterparts. He wouldn’t have assumed anything based on random similarities. And it wasn’t like he ever had a close, personal relationship with any of the people at Hels Tek…

Still, though. He feels incredibly foolish for never making the connection.

“Wow.” Bravo raises his eyebrows. Evidently, he became well-acquainted with Clear during his own time at Hels Tek. “Small universe, huh?”

Grian coughs into his fist. “Yeah, I uh, I don’t blame you for not recognizing him,” he tells Tango. “He’s… quite a bit different from Mumbo.”

That’s an understatement. Everything he remembers about Clear Cut is so different from Mumbo Jumbo- they’re almost opposites, right down to their names. Even their voices are different; Clear always had a thick, slurred way of speaking, his voice lower and rougher than he’s ever heard Mumbo’s. But maybe that’s less an inherent trait and more a reflection of the poor care he took of himself.

It makes Tango wonder what dictates how different a Hels will be from their counterpart. How much of it is based on codes and data, and how much is a result of the world they grow up in?

“Right. No, that- that makes sense.” Tango runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “And uh, that’ll actually work out pretty well. Clear has always been uh… out of the loop, we’ll say, for as long as I’ve known him. He’ll probably have no idea what’s goin’ on, so portaling in front of him shouldn’t raise any alarms.”

Bravo nods. “Yeah, plus he usually spends his time alone, ‘cause no one else can stand to work with him. Sounds like as good a plan as any.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Grian says. He casts a look over the rest of the group. “After we respawn back on Double Life, I’ll hop over to Hermitcraft real quick and grab Mumbo. And while I’m at it, maybe I’ll see if any other Hermits wanna-”

“No,” Tango interrupts quickly. He can already see where this is going. “Look, I don’t- it’s bad enough that you all got mixed up in this, okay, I- I don’t wanna drag anyone else into Hels if I can help it.”

Okay, so maybe he hasn’t completely warmed up to the whole ‘asking people for help’ thing yet. But it’s different. Everyone on Double Life sort of became a part of this the moment Hels Tek invaded their world. They’re already at risk just by proxy, so of course they want to do all they can- despite the danger it puts them in.

He knows Atlas has already been eyeing other hybrids for his farms, and Hermitcraft is full of those. As of right now, there’s no feasible chance that he’d ever encounter them on his own. But if Tango rallies the rest of Hermitcraft to his aid, then he’s putting a target on their backs. That’s the last thing he wants to do to the place and the people that were his sanctuary for so long.

Jimmy frowns. “Tango, you know they’d all feel the same-”

“I mean it,” Tango says firmly. “I’m fine if you guys wanna help, alright, but don’t- no calling in the other Hermits.”

Grian purses his lips. “Fine. I’ll grab Mumbo and come straight back.”

Bravo looks between them before clearing his throat. “Okay, are we- I think we’re ready to get goin’ here, right?” 

“What, now?” Jimmy asks, turning to him in surprise. “Hang on, we haven’t worked out the full plan yet-”

“The longer it takes for you guys to die, the more suspicious Atlas will be when I reach out to him,” Bravo explains impatiently. “We can hash out the rest of the details once we’re back in your world, alright, but it’s gonna take time for Atlas to get here. We should get the ball rollin’ now.” 

Jimmy looks like he wants to argue, but Tango steps in. “Yeah, you guys should have plenty of time to work somethin’ out. You’ll have to wait ‘til night time to portal back, remember?”

“Right,” Jimmy says uncertainly, “but you won’t know the plan-”

“That’s okay.” Tango shrugs. “I trust you guys.”

It’s a scary proposition, sure. He’ll be completely at the mercy of his friends, simply having to just wait and hope their plan works. But they’ve more than proven their capability and commitment over the last couple weeks. If he can’t trust them with this, then he can never trust anyone else in the universe ever again.

Jimmy softens at that. “Alright, then,” he says, sounding touched.

“Good,” Bravo says, sounding decidedly less so. “Let’s draw your lava bath, then.”

“Does it have to be lava?” Joel complains, screwing his face up.

Bravo gives him an annoyed look. “It’s the most believable method for traps like this.”

“We’re gonna lose all our stuff,” Scott chimes in, arms folded. “We’re still kinda in th’ early game back on Double Life, so it’s not like we’ve got plenty’a resources ta’ spare.”

Bravo rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, just- you can give whatever you wanna keep to me and Timmy, we’ll be comin’ back through the portal, alright?” Crossing the room to the pile of chests, he rummages around in one for a second and then pops a couple of yellow shulker boxes down. “Here.”

Tango whistles. “Shulkers, huh? I uh, I didn’t even know shulkers existed ‘til I got out, how… where did you get shulkers in Hels?”

“Like I said, I’ve got a new sponsor.” Bravo shrugs, but there’s an underlying tension in his voice telling Tango to drop it. “You guys get your stuff sorted. I’ve got lava buckets in here, we can just fill the pit… so uh, you all can go for a nice little dip.”

A quiet murmur fills the air while the Lifers set to their task, shuffling around the cavern as they load up the shulker boxes and pour lava into the pit from the buckets Bravo provides. Tango gives his own inventory a quick look-over, but none of the supplies he brought are really worth sending home.

Apprehension gnaws at Tango’s stomach. It’s all starting to feel real, now, the weight of the task set before him finally sinking in. However this ends, he’s going to have to face his past head-on. Back to where this nightmare started. No more running, no more hiding, no more lies.

He’s not sure if he’s ready for it. Even after ten years. But this life he’s built for himself- with his friends, with Jimmy- means enough for him to try.

“Alright,” Bravo says, studying the new lava pit with an approving nod, “I think we’re about ready-”

“Um, hang on,” Jimmy interjects, holding a hand up. “I arrived here well before the others, wouldn’t it be strange for me to get caught in the same trap as them? I mean, if we want him to think Bravo trapped near the portal- it’d be too convenient.”

“Oh, good point,” Tango says, dismayed. His and Jimmy’s join messages will have shown up earlier than the others’ in chat. “Atlas will definitely pick up on that.”

Bravo makes a noncommittal noise. “Well… maybe I could, uh…” He makes a stabbing motion. “You know.”

“What, kill him?” Tango asks, raising his eyebrows. Oh, he doesn’t like the thought of that at all. “Nuh uh. Not happening. We’ll figure somethin’ else out-”

“It would help convince him I’m not workin’ with you guys,” Bravo points out. “Just sayin’...”

“He’s right.” Jimmy puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder, resolve glimmering in his deep brown eyes. “If this plan is gonna work, we need Atlas to fully believe the story Bravo gives him. There can’t be any doubts or questions that would put him on edge, you know that.”

Tango does know that. But it doesn’t make him like the idea any more.

“I… I guess so,” he relents. “If you’re okay with it. I- I feel bad-”

“Tango, one quick death is nothin’ compared to what you’re takin’ on,” Jimmy tells him. 

Tango jerks his shoulder in a shrug. “I guess.”

Jimmy studies him for a moment. Then he puts a wing up to shield them from the rest of the room, taking Tango aside. “Are you… sure you wanna do this?” he asks quietly. “We can just go back home, take some more time. Long as Bravo’s out of Hels, we know Atlas can’t come after us, so we can wait ‘til we’re good and ready.”

Once again, Tango is taken aback at how seriously Jimmy treats his feelings. It’s the sort of consideration he’d never expected to receive before he left Hels. This entire mess is solely his fault, and yet here Jimmy is, wanting to make sure he’s comfortable.

“No, I’m sure,” Tango says, giving him a reassuring smile. “I wanna finally be done with this- this whole thing. Like we said, it’s- the more time Atlas has to prepare, the less likely we’ll be to come out on top. I’d rather do this now, on our terms.”

“Alright, then.” Jimmy lowers his wing and looks over at Bravo. “We’re doin’ it.”

Bravo merely nods, but Tango catches the flash of surprise in his eyes. He probably expected Jimmy to be a lot more resistant to the idea, considering the tension between them. Just goes to show the lengths Jimmy’s willing to go for Tango.

(Whether or not he deserves it remains to be seen.)

Grian claps his hands together, drawing the attention of the room. “Okay, everyone ready?” he asks, surveying the group gathered around the pit. Seeing no objections, he continues, “Good. We’ll go all at once, now, so it looks like a trap.” He glances at Bravo. “You’ll message Atlas after you kill Tim- I mean, Jimmy, right, and then head back through the portal after the hand-off?”

Bravo pulls out his communicator. “Yep.”

Tango clears his throat. “Uh, real quick…” He steps forward, his gaze slowly traveling over the group. “Thanks, you guys, for doing this for me. I swear, I’m gonna make it up to you-”

“Just stop it,” Cleo huffs, looking down at him with a bemused expression. “It’s- it’s- it’s fine, we’re all fine. This is- it’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, we’ve got your back, buddy,” Impulse says warmly.

“Yes!” Ren pumps a fist in the air, lips drawn back into a fanged smile. “We shall show those heathenous scoundrels who they’re freaking messin’ with!”

A chorus of cheers and similar sentiments rises up from the group, and Tango feels his heart swell. He really can’t fathom how lucky he was to find such amazing friends. Even though they’re staring down a painful death and about to embark on an insanely dangerous mission, just for his sake, they harbor nothing but well wishes and high spirits.

Is it really any wonder he learned how to be a good person just by knowing them?

“Right, then.” Grian meets Tango’s gaze, offering a grin. “Good luck.”

Tango manages to smile back. “You too.”

“Okay, guys…” Grian turns to the pit, the lava below glinting in his lenses. “Here goes. Three, two, one… go!”

Tango doesn’t let himself look away as his friends jump into the lava, despite how upsetting it is- the screams of pain, the scent of burning. These deaths are on him. However this goes, he needs to make sure that all the strife he’s brought them is worth it. That, after today, none of them will have to worry about trouble from Hels ever again.

Their deaths are quick, thankfully, leaving the room in abrupt, unsettling silence.

“Okay, looks good,” Bravo says, glancing up from his comm.

Timmy, standing back against the far wall, peeks out from behind his hands, his ragged wings drawn around him like a blanket. “Is it over?” he asks meekly.

“Yeah, almost.” Bravo’s expression is unreadable, but it seems to Tango that his tone might have softened- just ever so slightly. “You can uh, head on up through the portal if you want.”

Timmy hesitates. “Um, I… think I’ll wait ‘til you come back from the hand-off,” he says, ducking his head. “If that’s alright.” 

“Oh.” Bravo rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “You sure you’re gonna be alright here by yourself, mate?”

Timmy smiles faintly. “Yeah, I’m... used to being alone.”

It doesn’t quite have the reassuring effect he might’ve been hoping for, as Jimmy exchanges a pained look with Tango. The guilt in his eyes is startling; it’s almost like Jimmy’s blaming himself for all the misfortune his doppelgänger suffered. As if it’s his fault Timmy was spawned into a prison world.

Yeah, Tango’s gonna have some words with him later…

“Well, that’s settled,” Bravo decides. He swaps out his comm for his sword, giving Jimmy a searching look. “Okay, uh… you ready to do this, then?”

Jimmy eyes the sword. “Yeah, just gimme a second,” he says, turning to Tango.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Tango beats him to it. He surges forward to wrap Jimmy in a fierce hug. “I love you,” he breathes, “so much.”

Jimmy responds instantly, wrapping his arms and wings around Tango just as tightly, sheltering them. “I love you, too,” he whispers. “And I promise you, we’re gonna get you outta there, alright, and- and we’re gonna take those jerks down. I’m not gonna let you get trapped there again, I promise.”

“I know,” Tango murmurs, tilting his head up to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “And I- I’m so sorry that you got caught up in all this, all this- this craziness and all the pain it’s caused-”

“Ey, none of that, now,” Jimmy says lightly. “It’s okay. We’re soulmates, remember?”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “That was just random chance-”

“But I’d choose you again, you know.” Jimmy takes Tango’s face in his hands, somehow steadying yet impossibly gentle. “Even knowin’ what would happen, I’d choose you a million times over.” 

Tango’s throat tightens. 

(God, what he wouldn’t give right now to feel this love through their soulbond instead of that constant, underlying static. It’s not that he doubts Jimmy’s love for him, not at all. Jimmy has made it abundantly clear through everything he’s said and done, even through the hardship of these last couple weeks.

But when Tango was able to feel it, the actual physical sensation of that emotion being sent through their bond, it had given him something more tangible to ground himself with. Something he could cling to in the face of his worst fears and insecurities. Something he could almost point to and reassure himself, ‘Yes, this is real.’

It’s yet another thing Hels Tek has stolen from him- and at the same time, it’s a reminder of what he’s fighting to get back. Not just safety and peace of mind, not revenge for the pain he’s suffered, but the gift of pure, unfiltered love that Jimmy’s given him.)

There’s so much more he wants to say, but he knows they’re out of time. So he simply closes his eyes and leans up to meet Jimmy’s lips. He lifts a hand to cover Jimmy’s, letting the claws that he was once so ashamed of curl around Jimmy’s fingers, pouring all the emotion he’s left unsaid into the kiss.

He’s pretty sure Jimmy gets the message.

All too soon, Jimmy’s pulling back to face Bravo- though he doesn’t let go of Tango’s hand. He lets out a shaky breath. “Alright, I’m ready.”

Bravo, to his credit, doesn’t seem overly keen to murder Jimmy. “I’ll uh, I’ll make it quick,” he says, drawing his sword back. “Here goes.”

Tango squeezes Jimmy’s hand. He holds Jimmy’s gaze even as the glint of metal flashes in his periphery, and he doesn’t flinch when the blood sprays his face.

~*~

Bravo sits back, studying his handiwork with a discerning eye.

“Now this is rough, okay,” he starts, “but it’s- it’s a general idea of the layout.”

‘Rough’ is putting it nicely. The diagram he’s scrawled across several blank maps is hardly recognizable as a floorplan, and there are certainly parts of it that are lacking detail. But there are just some areas he never became that familiar with during his time at Hels Tek, for one reason or another, so it can’t be helped.

It’s better than nothing, anyways.

“This is Hels Tek?” Jimmy asks, his eyebrows shooting up. “It’s massive!”

He’s standing on the other side of the table across from Bravo- where he can keep an eye on Bravo without being too close. Though, space is a bit of a luxury at the moment. The living room they’ve gathered in isn’t all that much bigger than the basement where the portal was. Bravo thinks it’s the same ranch house where he confronted Jimmy and Tango for the first time; clearly, they rebuilt it after Tango burned it down.

Or, after it burned down in a fire that Tango accidentally started, while defending himself from Hels Tek. He’s not the one to blame for that, Bravo reminds himself.

It’s a quaint little home. Even though the room is packed full of players, Bravo can still make out all sorts of personal touches. Framed embroidery pieces hanging on the wall. Discarded golden feathers collected in a glass jar. A well-crafted rocking chair sitting in the corner, with ashen claw marks carved into its arm.

The Bravo of a few hours ago would’ve been tempted to attribute all the warmth in this place to Jimmy. All these sentimental, human touches… it’s beyond what should be capable for a blaze hybrid like Tango- at least, for the blaze hybrid Atlas portrayed him as. But looking around, Bravo can see his doppelgänger’s mark on this place clear as day, and he knows Tango had just as much a role in making this house a home as Jimmy did.

“Yep.” The avian with the quadruple set of wings and freaky spectating abilities, Grian, has perched atop his broad-shouldered companion, Scar- the one with the itchy trigger finger. “I- I didn’t see much of it when I was uh… havin’ a cheeky look, but I got that impression.”

Guess ‘a cheeky look’ is his way of saying ‘astral-projecting my consciousness through time and space to invisibly spy on unaware players.’ Whatever. Why not? This whole situation is already so goddamn weird…

“It’s a bit of a maze, yeah,” Bravo says. “Which is why we’ve gotta have a game plan worked out before we just go runnin’ in there all willy-nilly.”

Jimmy’s wings are hitching up around his shoulders, which Bravo only notices because he’s seen Timmy do the exact same thing when he’s uncertain. “Okay, then… so where do we start?”

“Well,” Bravo says, “if we open a portal to Clear, I- I bet we’ll spawn in the garage. He’s always in there workin’ on the flying machines, and I’m sure he’ll wanna tune ‘em up after Atlas gets back with Tango. I mean, there’s a chance he’ll actually go to sleep at a decent hour and we’ll spawn in his room, instead, but uh. It’s a small chance.” 

“Ah.” Clear’s more sightly and hygienic doppelgänger, Mumbo, is standing beside Scar and fidgeting with his tie. There’s a knowing, sympathetic look in his reddish eyes. “Hard worker, is he?”

Bravo snorts. “Bit of an understatement, yeah.” He points at the map. “So let’s assume we spawn in the garage, here.”

“That’s a nice, big space,” Grian says approvingly. “Should let us get our bearings.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Bravo traces his finger along the lines. “The back wall here opens up to the lava lake that surrounds the whole place, and the entry to the rest of the facility is here. I think once we all spawn in, we should leave a couple people to guard the portal, make sure no one else stumbles across it.”

“I dunno,” Jimmy says, frowning. “Is splittin’ up really the smartest thing to do?”

Bravo shrugs. “I mean, we might be able to spawn another portal if we had to, but it’ll be our fastest way out of there and I’d like to keep it that way.” He gives Jimmy a sidelong look. “You really wanna risk someone breakin’ it before we can get back through?”

He knows exactly how hard it is to build a portal in Hels with the combined forces of Atlas and Alisker in pursuit. If it weren’t for an unexpected sponsorship agreement, it would’ve taken god only knows how long for him to gather all the necessary resources.

“I guess not,” Jimmy sighs. “Um, who should stay, then?”

Bravo’s mildly surprised at Jimmy’s willingness to defer to his judgement. He isn’t foolish enough to think Jimmy’s forgiven him, of course. But it seems like pulling off this mission matters more than holding a grudge.

He looks around the room, slowly examining the gathered players. Proper introductions were a rushed affair after he and Timmy came back through the portal. In an ideal situation, he would be better informed of each player’s strengths and weaknesses in order to determine what role they should play. But he remembers seeing at least some of them in action during Hels Tek’s invasion, and he can infer a couple things fairly well.

For example; the giant zombie player and the dog hybrid are too tall to even stand inside this average-sized room. That’ll definitely cause a few problems.

“My vote is on you two,” Bravo says, nodding at them in turn.

The blond guy with the eyepatch- Marty, was it?- squints at Bravo suspiciously. “Uh, Ren and Cleo are some of our heaviest hitters, what’re you playin’ at?”

Bravo spreads his hands. “Hels Tek isn’t exactly built with players like you in mind,” he explains. “The hallways are only three high. It’s gonna be pretty cramped and hard to navigate for you, so I think you’d be the most help standing guard in the garage.”

“Uh, seriously?” Ren asks flatly, his ears drawn back. “Sorry, my dude, but I’m not the kinda person who lets his friends go out on the frontlines alone.”

Cleo seems similarly displeased. “Yeah, I- I- I don’t- I mean, I- I’ve never particularly claimed to be good at PVP before, but surely I can do more than just… just stand guard?”

“Hey,” Jimmy cuts in gently, “I don’t like it either, alright, but Bravo knows Hels Tek the best outta all of us. We should do what he says.”

Cleo huffs, blowing her bangs out of their face. “Fine.”

Bravo blinks at Jimmy. “Uh- okay, good.” He clears his throat, turning back to the map. “The farm they’ll be keeping Tango in is here. So we’ve got a little bit of a trek, but we’ll be able to avoid the residential district where most of the staff will be sleeping. As we make our way through, stealth should be our number one priority- at least on the way there.” He glances up. “So uh, needless to say, this will be a dog-free mission.” 

He directs it towards the red-hooded moth lady, who’s got a dog seated at her side. It’s only one, but Bravo recalls her having an entire pack; he can hear them outside, even now.

“What?” Red objects, her fuzzy wings puffing up indignantly. “But they’re so helpful!”

Bravo doesn’t budge. “Dogs are loud, and they wander,” he says plainly. “You wanna come, you leave the puppers at home.”

“Oh, alright,” Red pouts. 

“Now,” Bravo continues, “most of the staff should be asleep. But if we encounter anyone, we need to neutralize without killing, or they’ll just respawn in their room and raise the alarm.” 

Marty raises his hand. “I can brew up some splash potions of slowness.”

“Oh, that’d help, yeah.” Bravo tilts his head. “Uh, can you craft some slowness arrows, too? We can have the archers in the group take point, so they’ll get first shot at anyone we come across.”

Scar’s eyes light up. “Oh! That’s a wonderful-”

“Not with your crazy bows of one-shot-kill ridiculousness, though,” Bravo warns. “We’re just tryin’ to get the jump on ‘em, remember? So- so bring somethin’ a little less lethal.”

The blue-haired man standing beside Cleo clicks his tongue. “Boo, you’re no fun.”

There doesn’t seem to be any real objection behind the complaint, though, so Bravo continues. “If we hit ‘em with slowness and knock ‘em out, some basic chains would probably be enough to restrain them. Far as I know, it’s just plain ol’ humans workin’ there.” He scratches the back of his head. “For uh, for obvious reasons. So we should all have a bunch of chains on us, just in case.”

Impulse nods. “We’ve got an iron farm, shouldn’t be a problem.” The less-demonic counterpart of Bravo’s new sponsor seems to have cooled down, but his presence is still a bit unnerving.

“Great.” Bravo turns back to the map. “So we’ll proceed to the south wing, and then-”

“Uh, hey, I got a question.” The speaker is a short man with green antennae and sharp teeth. Jeeze, what was his name- something with J? “Why are we even bothering with sneaking along all these corridors when we can just mine our way through?”

“Hels Tek has a built-in security system,” Bravo says, trying to be patient. “The walls are four blocks thick, and the middle two layers are fed by an instant cobble generator. Soon as a block is mined away, it’ll be replaced- and not only that, but the update will be read by their security system. Same for breaking down any of the locked iron doors.”

“Oh.” Mr. J crosses his arms. “Well, you could’a bloody started with that…”

“So wait,” Etho cuts in, “how are we gonna get past the doors, then?” 

Bravo fights back his annoyance; of all the people to look and sound so similar to their counterpart, why did it have to be Patho’s? It’s incredibly grating. “Each Hels Tek employee has an ID card that grants them access through the doors, so we’ll just snag Clear’s. Should get us where we need to go.”

Etho quirks a brow. “Should, huh?”

Irritation flickers through Bravo. It was said in a light and teasing tone, but in that voice, and with those mismatched eyes peeking over his mask, it just rubs Bravo the wrong way. He opens his mouth to retort-

“So we get to the farm,” Jimmy says quickly, redirecting the conversation. “Once we get Tango out, then what?”

Bravo lets out a breath, willing the tension from his body. He’s not in Hels anymore, he reminds himself; devolving into bickering won’t help anyone. “Then our target will change. We’ll have to find Atlas, preferably before he even knows we’re there.” He points at the map. “This is his room, here.” 

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So we just… kill him, then?”

As enticing as that sounds, Bravo shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy. My gut says he’ll have the key in his ender chest, not his inventory. So we’ll have to overpower him, make him open it.”

“Then we can kill him?” Shorty McShouty asks in that impossibly loud voice of his, big eyes sparkling with equal parts excitement and bloodlust. It’s not very intimidating.

Bravo sighs. “Sure, whatever. But once we have Tango and the key, everyone’s priority should be gettin’ the heck outta dodge. We need to get back through the portal and close it behind us as soon as humanly possible, or else this whole thing is gonna backfire spectacularly.”

“I think it’s a solid plan,” Jimmy says appraisingly. “Is there anythin’ else?” 

“Yeah, actually.” Bravo folds his arms. “We should get a couple chests of backup gear to leave by the portal in case anyone’s killed and respawns back here. And I want one more person to stay here, on this side of the portal. Y’know, to keep an eye on things.”

Jimmy looks confused for a moment before he follows Bravo’s gaze to Timmy, who’s currently doing a very good job of trying to blend into the wall.

Realization settles in Jimmy’s eyes. It’d been an unspoken agreement between him and Bravo that Timmy would stay here. He’s obviously not a fighter, and even if he were, he’s in no condition for this sort of thing. But Bravo doesn’t want to leave Timmy alone with no one but Mumbo. Even though he seems more sensible and capable than his disaster of a doppelgänger, Bravo would rather be sure they have at least some backup, in the unlikely event any Hels players manage to get through the portal before the rest of them return.

“Yeah, good call,” Jimmy says. “Who d’you think?”

Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “Your choice.”

He’d noticed the immediate sense of protectiveness Jimmy felt towards his doppelgänger, and he knows these players far better than Bravo does. He’s the best judge to decide who should stay and look after Timmy.

Jimmy gives him an appreciative look. “Alright. Hey, Bigb,” he says, turning to the dark-skinned man standing beside Ren, “would ya mind keepin’ these two company?”

Bigb breaks into an easy grin. “Sure, no problem.”

Bravo nods his approval. Bigb is a goat hybrid- if the curved horns and floppy ears are anything to go off of. A fellow prey animal will definitely put Timmy more at ease, especially one as un-intimidating and approachable as Bigb. Plus, he seems fairly reserved; Bravo hasn’t heard the man speak once before now. If Timmy’s going to feel safe with anyone here, it’s him.

“Alright.” Bravo pulls out his communicator, checking the timer. “Sunset in Hels is in T-minus three hours, so make whatever preparations you need and meet back here then. I wanna run over the plan again, make sure everyone’s got a good sense of things before we go through.”

Jimmy exhales slowly, determination settling over his features. “Right. Sound good, everyone?”

General murmurs of assent ring out around the table. Bravo rises to his feet.

“Okay. Let’s get goin’, then.”

~*~

Tango swallows the lump in his throat. “So, that’s done.”

It was strange, watching Jimmy die. Despite knowing better, Tango had half expected to die with him, seized by a sort of anticipatory phantom pain. Though he knows it’s only temporary, the loss is immediate and severe- a yawning chasm of ice in his chest. He can almost feel Jimmy’s hand still squeezing his own. And he can feel still-warm blood on his face, but he doesn’t bother wiping it off; it’ll help sell his ‘beaten and defeated’ look to Atlas later.

“Yeah.” Bravo stashes his sword in his inventory, pulling his comm back up. “Right, okay, sending the message now…”

Tango takes a few breaths to steady himself. Unfortunately, that was the easy part. The hard part still lies ahead of him.

The cavern seems a lot bigger with just the three of them, the air filled with nothing but the low bubbling of lava. Tango feels unnervingly exposed, just like he did when he and Jimmy first fell down here. God, was that really only a few minutes ago? Ten, fifteen at the most? After the physically draining fight and emotionally draining conversation, it feels like days. He’s really regretting not getting a full night’s sleep before coming here, but sneaking off in the middle of the night had seemed like his best bet at the time.

A lot of good that did.

“He bought it,” Bravo announces suddenly. “He’s agreed to come get you. I know a spot between here and Hels Tek, ‘bout an hour’s walk away. Should give us plenty of time before he arrives.”

Tango’s heart jolts. While he’s relieved their plan seems to be working, it’s hard not to feel dread. “Oh. Oh, great, yeah. Set it up,” he says, like he hasn’t just signed off on his own arrest warrant.

If Bravo’s picked up on his tone, he graciously doesn’t mention it. He merely nods and resumes typing.

Looking around the cavern, Tango casts about for a new topic before an uneasy silence can settle. His gaze falls on the empty portal frame, and a thought occurs to him. “Hey, uh, if the portal’s gonna be open for a few more hours, we should cover it up before we go. Just in case.”

“Sure,” Bravo says, green eyes still fixed on his comm, “I’ve got plenty’a netherrack just lyin’ around, we can- we can do something.”

Tango glances sideways at Timmy, who’s doing that anxious little weight-shifting dance of his, like he’s torn between moving closer or staying put. “So uh, I guess you’ll just hang out by the portal ‘til Bravo gets back, then?”

“Oh!” Timmy jumps a bit under Tango’s gaze, sending a couple wayward feathers to the ground. He offers a shy, slightly apologetic smile- and god, if that isn’t Jimmy’s expression on his face. “Um, yeah,” he says quietly, “I… I think that’d be best. Lemme just get my inventory sorted…”

He shuffles over to the side of the room with piles of chests and shulker boxes, wings dragging behind him. Tango’s heart tightens; he isn’t the most well-versed on wing care, but even he can tell Timmy’s are in rough shape.

The only reason he hasn’t brought it up yet is because he’s certain Jimmy noticed, too, and is already planning on doing something about it once this is all over. Taking Timmy under his wing, so to speak. The immediate sense of responsibility that Jimmy felt upon seeing his doppelgänger was plain as day. 

All that remains to be seen is whether or not Bravo will agree with that sentiment. Things are still… complicated, to say the least. While Tango’s pretty sure Bravo doesn’t hate them anymore, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’d want to stay with them- or leave Timmy with them. 

And Timmy’s feelings on the subject are another matter, too. He might not realize just how much help he needs- and not just in the physical sense, either- but they can’t force it on him. After they get back to Double Life, they’re gonna have to have a pretty frank discussion about what to do next-

“You know, you’re takin’ a pretty big risk, here.”

Bravo’s sudden voice jolts Tango from his thoughts. He gives Bravo a sidelong glance as he comes to stand next to him; he’s still looking down at the communicator in his hands, brows pinched in an uneasy expression. He looks as tired as Tango feels- but still tense. Always tense.

Tango makes a noncommittal noise as he taps his collar. “Well, I know Jimmy won’t be happy if I just leave this thing on, so.”

Bravo’s frown deepens. “No, not that. It’s just- for all you know, I could hand you off to Atlas and then be on my merry way. Like, once I’m through the portal, I can make a new one with my comm and just bail, leavin’ your friends high and dry, or I could even rat out your plan to Atlas.” He finally looks up at Tango. “And you’d have absolutely no way of knowing.”

The sincerity in his voice is striking. Tango tilts his head. “Huh. Guess that’s true.”

Bravo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wh- you didn’t- it didn’t occur to you that I might pull a double-cross?”

“Not really,” Tango answers honestly.

Bravo runs a hand through his hair. “Jeeze. You would’a thought I was the one spawned here…”

Surprise flickers through Tango. He’s spent the last ten years constantly feeling more ‘Hels’ than all his overworld friends- more monstrous, more violent, more untrustworthy. Rage and sadism, deceit and paranoia. Yet somehow it hasn’t occurred to him that by all accounts, he’s probably more ‘overworld’ than the vast majority of Hels players.

And apparently, more than his actual overworld counterpart.

“Yeah,” Tango laughs, “yeah, maybe I’m a bit lacking in the uh, healthy Hels skepticism department. Or maybe I’m just tired of makin’ decisions based on what I’m afraid other people might do. There’s only so much you can control, you know? We’ve all gotta make our own choices. And as long as I can live with mine, I’m good.”

“Really?” Bravo asks, sounding doubtful. “If you agreed to walk into a trap only for me to betray you, you’d be good with that?”

Tango shrugs. “Sure. But uh, just ‘cause I don’t think you would be.” He clears his throat. “Now, if we’re done with waxing hypotheticals, how ‘bout we get goin’?”

“Yeah, alright,” Bravo says, putting his comm away. “Hey uh, you ready to head up, Timmy?”

“Just about,” Timmy calls back, gathering up the last of the shulkers holding the Double Lifer’s gear.

Tango follows Bravo over to the passageway in the wall. “Yeah, this netherrack hut ain’t gonna build itself.”

Bravo huffs a dry laugh, hitting the button to open the passage. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Timmy can help us out with that.”

“Who, me?” Timmy asks in surprise as he comes up behind them. He has to duck to avoid hitting his head on the way up the stairs. “Um… I’m not good with building at all, Bravo.”

“What?” Bravo’s head whips around, his mouth falling open. “I- I just assumed- you’re not the builder?”

Timmy shakes his head. “No, no, I- wait, are you not the builder?”

Tango barely manages to hold back his laughter. Oh, he can wonder all he likes about the fate and random chance behind doppelgängers and soulmates, but at least some things stay the same.

“No!” Bravo groans. “No, I’m not- I mean, barely, okay. I can do like, the bare minimum, and- and certainly not terraforming or anything- and what are you smirkin’ at, skippy?” he demands, rounding on Tango.

“Nothing,” Tango hums, feeling surprisingly lighthearted despite the fact that he’s literally marching to his own doom. “Don’t worry about it.”

~*~

Jimmy flattens his wings out as the ranch comes into view, slowly gliding towards the ground.

He’s been all over the world in the last few hours, checking on the other players and helping them with preparations. Not that any of them really need his help to craft gear or stock up on food. It’s more for his benefit, honestly, to speak to them one-on-one.

Overall, everyone’s feeling pretty good about their plan. Some of them are rather keen to go on the attack, while others have their reservations. Jimmy’s relayed his and Tango’s encounter with Bravo quite a few times, now- though he knows even he doesn’t have the full story, having been stuck down in that damned pit.

It’s led to more than a couple questions regarding Bravo’s trustworthiness. Jimmy’s done his best to dispel their fears- but in all honesty, he isn’t even sure they should be trusting Bravo like this. Tango’s insistence is the only reason he’s agreed to this insane plan in the first place. He seemed to believe, with every fiber of his being, that they were capable of pulling this off.

And Jimmy will be damned if he lets Tango down.

He takes in the scene as he descends upon the ranch. Bravo’s on the porch with Bigb, leaned against the front railing as they chat. He acknowledges Jimmy with a nod, which Jimmy returns with a raised hand. He doesn’t want to interrupt so he steers off towards Timmy, landing a couple yards away from the other avian.

Timmy’s standing in the field, gazing out over rows of wheat and the distant pastures. His arms hang limply at his side, wings drooping behind him, his face upturned slightly into the late morning sun. There’s a fragile stillness to him. Like a glass bottle on the edge of a table.

Jimmy clears his throat as he approaches, so as not to startle him. “Takin’ in the view?” he asks softly.

Despite his forewarning, Timmy shrinks back a little. “Y- yeah. I’ve… never seen the sun before, you know?” He wraps his arms around himself. “It’s so… warm, and bright…”

Jimmy’s heart aches. “Right.” It hurts to think of how his counterpart- how every Hels player- was deprived of something as simple as sunlight. Living under a bedrock ceiling twenty-four-seven would drive him insane. “Well, I- I’m glad you get to see it now.”

Timmy smiles faintly. “Yeah, me too. I- I can’t believe you guys have… so many passive mobs…”

“Oh yeah,” Jimmy realizes, “Tango mentioned those were uh, pretty scarce in Hels.” He jerks his chin at the pasture down the hill. “Um, d’you wanna meet our cows?”

Timmy follows his gaze and cringes. “Sorry, I… don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jimmy says quickly, “they won’t hurt you! They’re really friendly-”

“No,” Timmy murmurs, licking his lips, “no, I- I’m not worried about that.” The hungry look in his eyes is suddenly unnerving.

Jimmy hesitates. Back in Hels, Timmy had assured him that Bravo was looking after him. Jimmy had assumed that meant Bravo was feeding him, working to slowly repair the damage that years of starvation had done. But looking at him now, Jimmy’s not so sure that’s the case.

He pushes down a flare of anger; that won’t help right now. “Oh, uh- hey,” he says, as casually as he can muster, “I’ve got food, if you’re interested. Got some steak with me, actually, and-”

“Food?” Timmy’s head snaps around, eyes going impossibly wider. “Can- can I have some?”

Jimmy startles at his sudden intensity, managing a laugh as he pulls some steak from his inventory. “Uh yeah, yeah. Here-”

“No!” 

Bravo’s voice, somewhere behind him. In the second it takes Jimmy to glance over his shoulder, Timmy lunges for his hand.

But Bravo’s already there- pushing past Jimmy, he grabs Timmy and yanks him back, out of reach. “Don’t give him that!” he snaps at Jimmy. “Put it away!”

“No, please!” Timmy cries, wings flailing as he struggles against Bravo. His eyes are wild and desperate. “I- I’ll be careful this time-”

“Hey, hey!” Jimmy shouts, putting the steak back in his inventory only to free his hands and pull Bravo off Timmy. He shoves Bravo away, flaring a wing out to block him from Timmy. “What is your problem?”

Bravo holds his ground, getting right in Jimmy’s face. “He still can’t handle solid food, he’s on a strict refeeding regimen! You’re gonna fuck him up-”

“Refeeding?” Jimmy jerks his head back. “What d’you mean?”

Bravo has the audacity to look annoyed, his green eyes narrowed. “Uh, hello? He’s been starving to death for years, any substantial food comes right back up and puts him off the rest of the day- learned that the hard way.”

“Bravo, c’mon…” Timmy seems to have calmed down, now that the food is no longer within reach. “It- it isn’t that bad,” he tries, voice sullen.

Bravo steps back from Jimmy, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, Timmy, you know the rules.”

Jimmy folds his arms, letting his wings settle. “So what are you feedin’ him, then?” he demands.

Bravo bristles under his accusation. “Suspicious stew, saturation. But he can only have it a couple times a day, ‘cause his stomach’s not used to like, actually being full yet. Next meal isn’t for a few more hours, I- I’ve already explained all this to your goat buddy.”

“Huh.” Jimmy frowns. ��Wait, where’d you get stew from? You need flowers for that, right? Poppies, or… daisies, right? Not a lotta those in Hels.”

“I told you,” Bravo huffs, “I found a new sponsor.”

The last of Jimmy’s anger falls away, leaving him a bit sheepish. He shouldn’t have assumed Bravo was just letting Timmy starve. They might still have their differences, but everything Bravo’s done has been out of a sense of justice- albeit twisted and horribly misinformed. And despite it all, Timmy still seems to care about him. That ought to count for something.

(Way to go, idiot.)

(Getting all worked up over nothing…)

(Man, you really can’t do anything right.)

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck. “Oh. Right.” He turns to Timmy, who’s giving him a hopeful look. “Sorry, Timmy,” he winces, “I don’t wanna make you sick.”

“Just a bite?” Timmy pleads.

“No,” Bravo says firmly. Then he softens. “Sorry. We can try solid food in a few days, alright?”

Timmy sighs, glancing away. His wings droop even further, defeated. “Okay…”

“Hey, Timmy!” Bigb’s suddenly calling from the porch, beckoning Timmy over with that soothing voice and dazzling smile of his. “You mind helping me out with something inside?”

(Thank the universe for Bigb.)

Timmy hesitates and looks at Bravo, who waves him off. Giving them a final apologetic half-smile, Timmy shuffles back to the porch, following Bigb inside.

The front door closes behind them, leaving the ranch in relative calm and silence; a warm breeze rifling through the wheat fields, animals calling from the pastures and barn. Clouds float lazily across the blue sky. It’s peaceful, the way the ranch always is- except Jimmy can recall another time, not very long ago, when they stood in this very spot on a day much like this one, and he choked on smoke as the ranch burned behind them and his world fell apart.

He wonders if Bravo is thinking about that day, too.

“Sorry,” Bravo says after a moment. “I should’a said somethin’ before, there just… wasn’t a good time.”

Jimmy coughs into his fist. “Yeah, no, it’s fine. Sorry for jumping to conclusions.” Speaking of… he debates with himself for a second before deciding to bring up something Timmy told him when they met. “So… you uh, you trimmed those feathers of his?”

Bravo gives him a sidelong look. “Yeah?”

Jimmy pauses. “Well, did you know you made it so he can’t fly ‘til they grow back?”

“What?” Bravo’s eyes widen. “I- I only trimmed the lowest ones, to keep ‘em from draggin’ on the ground!”

He sounds genuine, at least. “You took his flight feathers, mate,” Jimmy says as gently as he can, stretching his own wing to point them out. “These ones.”

Bravo stares at the feathers, stricken. “I- I didn’t know- I was just tryin’ to clean him up a bit!”

“To make him look more like me, right?” Jimmy asks.

(Oh, shit!)

Bravo closes his mouth with a click and glances away. “Look, I- I already… I know I messed up with him, alright?” he grits out. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I’m not- I mean, I’m not tryin’ to,” Jimmy sighs. “Just… what, exactly, are your intentions with him?”

Bravo’s head whips around to look at him, bewildered. “Are you- are you seriously givin’ me the shovel talk right now?”

The absolute disbelief in his voice inexplicably makes Jimmy flush; he’d sounded smack like Tango just then. “Well- I- I mean,” he stammers, “in a way, I guess? You- you can’t blame me, alright? He’s my counterpart, I just-”

“You wanna protect him,” Bravo finishes, realization settling in his eyes. “You look at him, all frail and stuff with those big sad eyes, and you wanna protect him. I get it.”

Jimmy blinks. “Um, yeah. Is… that why you brought him with you?”

Bravo works his jaw for a moment, evidently rejecting the first thing he’d tried to say. “... not really,” he admits. “Not at first, anyway. I mean- I- I don’t fully understand it, myself, I was just… I don’t know. Trying to claim… some amount of the happiness that you two found? I- I thought I was owed it, I guess. But it was stupid, you can’t- you can’t force these things.”

Jimmy’s surprised that Bravo’s actually confiding all this in him. And even more surprised at the sincerity in Bravo’s voice, the raw ache of it. Seems like he’s gotten over the righteous fury that had its hooks in him. Whatever Tango said to him, back in Hels… it must’ve really hit him.

(Wow, plot twist of the century!)

(You know what that is? Growth.)

(Aw, my problematic fave…)

“Anyway,” Bravo continues, “when this is over… I want him to stay with you. I mean, not necessarily you, specifically, just… here. In this world.”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting that. “Isn’t that up to him?”

Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “I mean sure, yeah, he doesn’t have to stay but… you got a good group here. This world isn’t crazy full, it’s not super dangerous or overwhelming… you’ve got some infrastructure set up, a good supply of food and resources. I think it’ll be a nice introduction to normal life for him.”

Jimmy nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I uh, I was actually plannin’ to offer, once this Hels business is over.” He studies Bravo. “What about you?”

A dry smile tugs at Bravo’s mouth. “I… think I’m gonna go my own way, at least for a little while. I’ve got some uh, you know, some thinkin’ to do… about stuff. After all this craziness, I think I just need to go hang in a solo world for a bit, you know? Figure my shit out.”

“Oh. Good.” 

“Yeah.”

They fall silent for a minute. Jimmy knows it won’t be long before the other Lifers begin to gather back at the ranch, ready to start the final preparations ahead of their mission to Hels. It’s a daunting task that lies before them, so strangely enough, he’s glad to have had this time with Bravo. If nothing else, he’s at least more certain of Bravo’s intentions.

“You know,” he starts, “you didn’t have to do all this. Soon as you came through the portal, you could’a gone wherever you wanted. So I guess… I’m tryin’ to say thank you. For helpin’ us.”

Bravo snorts. “I uh, I figured I owe you guys one. And y’know, it doesn’t hurt that we’ll be sticking it to Atlas. Fucking guy could stand to be taken down a peg.”

Despite himself, Jimmy grins. “That’s somethin’ we can agree on.”

~*~

Tango hangs limply in his chains, still and silent.

He’s long spent all his tears. Atlas left hours ago, but two guards remain posted outside the iron door. Every now and then, one of them will poke his head back in- just to briefly monitor- before leaving Tango in darkness again. Everything seems to be running like clockwork; the blaze rods floating above his head are snatched away right as the wither effect shudders through his body, triggering more to spawn. Regeneration potions smash at his feet on a regular interval, combating the damage just enough to keep him alive. 

Just another day at Hels Tek.

The physical pain is intense- the prick of thorns in his skin, the sting of ice in his veins, the burn of wither rose in his lungs. Every passing minute seems to stack more weight onto his iron chains and shackles, setting a deep ache into his stiff joints and muscles. But his prison allows him no respite, not even the slightest movement to seek a more comfortable position, to ease the pain, so he retreats from his body altogether and withdraws into his mind.

That’s no escape, either. 

Inside his mind is a storm. Tall, black waves of terror crash against each other- a churning, roiling froth, swallowing up the horizon of his mind’s eye. Despair howls on the wind. Any attempt at rational thought is consumed by it, panic shrieking across the sky like lightning.

There’s no way out.

Tango is a small light on a vast, dark ocean. He fights to stay afloat in the storm’s wake. It is entirely without sense or mercy, tossing him violently, head over heels. Weightless. Insignificant. Worthless.

You were made to suffer.

He opens his mouth to scream, but he has no voice, no breath. There’s only water, bitter and freezing- it rushes to sink him from inside, seeping into the hollows of his bones. Drowning him in his own blood, his own tears.

Everything you did was for nothing.

No! He tries to cling to hope; his friends are coming for him. They’re coming for him, they won’t leave him here, he just needs to hang on-

They’ve abandoned you.

The storm rages, smashing his hope to splinters. He kicks desperately for the surface. They wouldn’t abandon him. Jimmy-

He deserves better.

No, he loves him! He does-

Like a fish loves a hook? You will only cut him.

He can’t breathe. Where’s the surface-

Like a moth loves a flame? You will only burn him.

God, it’s so heavy. So cold-

Like a canary loves a coal mine? You will only choke him.

He’s sinking, slipping ever deeper below the waves. Engulfed in the inky void. There are no stars to guide him here, no sun or moon- the storm has blotted them out. Without them he has no direction; he can’t tell up from down, left from right, right from wrong- 

This is all there is.

He’s so tired…

All you will ever have.

Maybe he could…

Give in.

He stops fighting. The relief is immediate; the water cradles him, extinguishing all his light. There’s no more struggle, no more pain- everything is still and cold and dark. He can hear the storm but it’s far away, thunderclaps mere echoes in his ears… 

Give in.

Nothing can hurt him here…

Give in.

It’s so familiar…

Give in.

… he knows this darkness. It-

Give in.

It was so long ago-

Give in.

So long ago yet-

Give in.

He remembers it. He’s lived with this darkness before, he still carries the scars it left in him. And it never left him, not completely. It stalked him from every shadow, lurked around every corner-

Give-

No. He escaped it before. How did he do it? What did he have back then besides darkness-

You have nothing-

A light. That was all that changed, one small light in the face of the storm-

There’s no way out-

He chose the light. Again and again, against every downpour, every flood-

It’s pointless to-

He remembers. Nerves alight with electricity, breaking through the haze. His limbs become his own again, striking out through the dark, thrashing among the stillness, burning against the cold-

You can’t-

He breaks the surface. Chaos roars around him- the sting of wind and salt in his eyes, water grabbing him up and rolling him, thunder rattling through his bones. Half-blind and gasping, the shock and pain of it all almost sends him under again but he persists, fighting to keep his head above water.

Back then, all it had taken was a single light. The light of his respawn anchor blinking out. It hadn’t been easy; he’d needed the strength to seize his chance to free himself, to free his body as well as his mind. He doesn’t have that same chance right now. His body remains imprisoned, and the only strength he needs is his faith.

So he’ll have to bring his own light.

He reaches out into the black ocean for a fragment of hope- and he finds one. It nudges into his side, hard and small. It might be a short piece of wood, splintered from the whole by the storm. But as he blindly reaches for it, numb fingers scraping against its surface, he recognizes it instantly.

A memory; Jimmy next to him in bed, smiling beneath a curtain of golden feathers.

No, let go-

He curls his claws into it. His memories. That’s something he didn’t have back then, to help him face the darkness. Ten years of a better life, a better way. Ten years of sun and happiness. All the light he created, all the love he found, all the good he did- that’s something they can never take away from him, even if they chain his body forever.

More memories brush up against him. He gathers them up in his arms, stacking each damp board on top of each other, willing the structure to take shape against the crashing waves-

All you know is rage-

His creations; netherbrick towers looming from the mountain, higher than he ever thought he could build- a block of TNT hissing in the water streams of Boombox- the sizzle of golems in the Iron Titan- rooting through the spaghetti redstone underneath Decked Out- anvils launching through the air at Toon Towers- nether stars glittering against a black sky- darting past falling lava in Dare to Flare- hordes of drowned shuffling through tinted glass corridors- the leering silhouette of his cyclops under the Big Eye mountain- gazing up at the ranch with pride in his heart- clever farms- creative games- cozy homes-

Good things aren’t made for you-

His experiences; the softness of his first bed- twisting through the air at breakneck speed with an elytra- the hoofbeats of his horse trotting around their eighth world- sweetness of a golden carrot on his tongue- the big moon glimpsed through the window of his spaceship- redstone torches gripped in blackened claws- the thrill of dodging ravagers- infinite horizons stretching before him- the scent of freshly tilled dirt- fireworks lighting up the night sky- the warmth of sunlight on his skin- freefalling without fear- the comfort of a full belly- music blaring from a jukebox- the deafening shrieks of a dying dragon- boundless freedom- endless fun- ceaseless friendship-

You are alone-

His friends; Xisuma waving from across the ravine they’d just exploded- proudly handing Zedaph a piece of renamed string- Skizz cheering and clapping him on the back- whooping as he and Impulse run beside a ghast in a minecart- Mumbo grinning at him from atop a witch farm- sneaking between quartz pillars with Grian- Impulse and him collapsing in laughter as Bdubs fumes at them from the shipwreck- scrambling to build a TNT launcher shoulder to shoulder with Etho- Cleo- Scar- Pearl- Joe- Bigb- Keralis- Gem- Scott- Iskall- xB- Stress- Doc- Joel- Cub- False- Wels- Lizzie- Ren- Hypno- Jevin- Beef- Martyn- TFC- 

You’re a monster-

His love; staring down at Jimmy through the branches of a tree, a creeper explosion ringing in his ears- soft feathers tickling his cheek- Jimmy’s hand squeezing his own- a wing draped around his shoulder- humming as Jimmy spins him around in their kitchen- strong hands that are impossibly gentle- sunlight catching in Jimmy’s brown eyes- whispers in his ear- Jimmy holding him as he cries- a smile against his lips- the sound of Jimmy’s laughter, light and joyful- patience- kindness- love-

There’s nothing-

A portal filled with ever-changing light.

Give-

No. This won’t break him.

He clings to his memories, letting them carry him. A glowing ship riding the dark storm. The ground beneath his feet becomes solid again, walls rising up to shelter him from the waves as sails unfurl to catch the wind. The ship rocks and groans, surging up to crash back down again and again, but it doesn’t falter.

The storm howls, terrible and hungry, but it can’t reach him anymore. He turns his face into the wind and screams his defiance.

And back in the farm, Tango opens his eyes again.

The room beyond the glass wall of his enclosure looks the same as it always does. Everything is dark and still, lit only by the flickering glow of blaze rods above him and the sole light of his respawn anchor. Regeneration particles dance across his vision, competing with the encroaching blackness of the wither effect. Nothing has changed on the outside, of course- he hasn’t suddenly become freed from his prison, hasn’t miraculously escaped the constant pain that gnaws at him.

But he can see the change in his eyes, mirrored in the glass before him, and he bares his sharp teeth in a fierce, triumphant smile.

~*~

CONTINUED IN PART XI, ACT II

[hurthermore]

Alastor x a reader who is obsessed with his voice perhaps? Like they could just listen to him all day. Also misconduct is SO GOOD I am actually rabid

»»------► 𝚅𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎

Pairing: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙶𝙽!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Warnings: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗, 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝚂𝙵𝚆, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

A/N: 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞! 𝙸𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝; 𝙸 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊! 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠!

Alastor was a sharp man; he had to be given the type of hobbies he partook in during his time alive and dead. So when you- a recent addition to the Hazbin Hotel- began stiffening up every time he entered the room, he obviously noticed.

Did you think he wouldn't catch on to the shivers that touched your skin as he told his jokes? That he didn't observe the tensing muscles of your thighs as he laughed? That he missed the way you flustered as he threatened and killed oncoming dangers towards the hotel?

He knew, from the first incident, that it wasn’t fear that caused you to tremble. No, no. It was something else entirely. 

So as to why your body seemed to seize up around him was what he had decided to decipher. What he wanted to decipher. Alastor would rather end his existence before becoming the type of man to ignore mysteries and secrets.

And a secret you had.

Regardless of his inclination to uncover your strange tendencies around him, he wouldn’t deny that he did in fact enjoy your company. He found your reciprocation of poorly punned jokes quite tasteful, even if they were as bad as his. He enjoyed how, despite your flustered form, you engaged in thoughtful conversations with him. However, he would deny how he was rather fond of your physical reactions toward him.

Although sharp, Alastor had always been an oblivious man to the desires of love; the wants, kinks and fetishes that surrounded the subject. So it started to become slightly agitating when he began finding it increasingly difficult to uncover why in the seven rings of hell you were having those reactions. What emotions were causing it? What thoughts swirled your mind as you shook?

But lady luck finally graced him, and he found out your little secret.

He didn't intend to find out your little obsession so abruptly; he offered you to sit beside him to listen live whilst he broadcasted his next show. You had asked him multiple times before if you could hear him broadcasting in his studio, and despite his usual preference of enacting his shows in solidarity, he began to fantasise about you; slotting yourself next to him as you trembled.

So when you sat next to him, quivering only when he spoke, it became abundantly obvious that it was his voice that sent tremors down the supple flesh that covered your bones within you. It was a sense of obsession over his voice that caused lustful trembling, he concluded.

And oh did that do something to him; something he wasn’t expecting. An emotion that he hadn’t had experience in prior to this moment. It had him conflicted. It was a very entertaining feeling, one sickeningly similar to how he felt during his first kill when he was alive.

From then on, Alastor made it a point to jump out of the shadows when you were alone, only to end up whispering in your ears as he held one of your shoulders; feeling every flustered quiver. He knew you didn’t catch on to the fact that he knew about your little obsession despite his hints. And it was becoming rather hard, resisting how you’d react once you realised. 

So he took it upon himself to straight up ask you.

“Do you like my voice, dear?”

Alastor wasn’t expecting you to almost choke on your own spit as the words left his mouth, but it amused him all the same; laughing almost hysterically as you began to become more flustered than he had ever witnessed. 

A sight to behold.

But before you could pull away from him and put a distance between the two of you, he gripped your shoulder; pushing you into his side before he rested his head against the side of your own.

“Don’t worry my dear, you can listen to my voice until the end of time.”

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[potchi-fics]

councilor

i | ii

summary: a councilor reader and councilor sevika finally meet again after not seeing each other for years.

      a councilor is what you are gonna be from now on. may torman hoskel rest in peace, but he was as useless as a paralyzed kid given a bicycle– you suppose he did one good thing: voted for peace, but all in all, he did very little for being someone higher in ranks.

“madam,” your assistant, you consider her a friend, “it is almost time for your meeting.”

       you take one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you are wearing an elegant black silk dress adorned with silver accessories, and paired with black heels. you step outside to find your assistant waiting at your door holding a paper and pen. she nods at you as greetings.

your heels click against the tiles as you signal her to walk beside you, “how are you feeling today, alexandria?” 

“i must be the one asking you that,” a chuckle escapes from her, “councilor.”

your eyes roll at the title, “not yet, child.”

      you are decades older than your assistant, you have taken her under your wing; guiding and teaching her ever since she was a child. today is the day you get assigned to be a councilor for your house, for your nation. and, you vow to do and be better than the so-called councilor torman hoskel. just the thought of the useless man taints your good mood, your lips forming a thin line. too busy judging the dead in your mind, you do not notice that you have reached your destination: the councilors’ chambers.

“nervous?” your gaze travels from the door to alexandria, seeing her offer a comforting smile.

however, you only smirk cockily, “you should know by now that i do not do nervous. wait for me, will you?”

      and with that, you open the doors, swinging it open and catching the attention of the other councilors. they quiet down as you walk inside, offering them fake sweet smiles: what a bunch of low-class backstabbing morons.

you know what they are, a bunch of money and power-hungry freaks who do not care for anything other than themselves, sharks are what they are. you let your eyes roam around the room, taking in familiar faces— though you could only recognize a few, councilor shoola, former councilor caitlyn, and councilor salo. your smirk widens at the sight of the latest addition to the councilors, happy to see councilor sevika.

“welcome, councilors,” your attention is brought back to the center when you hear caitlyn’s booming voice, “thank you for making time for this meeting. as you all can see, a new figure will be sitting at this table in turn to replacing councilor torman hoskel.”

      in cue, all of the members stare at you, their eyes already judging and scrutinizing your entire being. you strut to where your seat is located, beside councilor salo: just my luck. you lock eyes with every single one, lingering your gaze on a certain zaunite a little longer. 

“anything you would like to say, councilor?” caitlyn asks you.

however, you only shake your head and dismiss the question, “with all due respect, i would like to keep this short.”

“quite rude, aren’t you? but i agree, i believe that there are more important things to talk about, zaun to be specific.” councilor salo laced his voice with disgust at the word zaun but before he could continue, you stepped in.

you bark a laugh, “well, you didnt see me calling you rude when i noticed you guesstimating me earlier, break a leg in getting better, councilor salo.”

      before it could escalate, caitlyn cleared her throat and concluded the meeting. she briefly mentioned that this day was for them to get to know you better but you dont think that’s happening anytime soon due to the scene you displayed earlier. to be fair, you always stand your ground. you see caitlyn approach you, along with her guard dog behind her.

“ms. kiramman,” you offer them both a nod of acknowledgment. 

vi snorts, making you raise your eyebrow, “sorry, but i just find it funny when you said break a leg on getting better.”

“stop,” caitlyn tries to scold her but its no use when vi’s barely holding in her laugh, “that certainly was unexpected. im looking forward to seeing your plans in action, councilor.”

“i was only…” your voice trails off, you take a seat on the side of your chair, “biting back, ms. kiramman. tell me, ms. kiramman, do you think that this council of ours can change the predicament we are in?”

she takes a moment before answering, “i am… unsure, but im looking on the bright side of it. ive heard about you, councilor, i know that you will do everything in your power to have what you want, that is why i voted for you to be seated in.”

“oh?” you cross your legs, the slit in your dress offering them a sight of your smooth leg, “buttering me up, ms. kiramman?”

      not only did caitlyn take the bait, you see vi take a peek at your exposed limb. you lean back and smile teasingly at the two, raising your perfectly sculpted eyebrow once again— causing the couple to flush bright pink. they bid you goodbye and it amuses you how they manage to bicker, you giggle knowing you were able to fluster them. you crack your knuckles and stretch your back, your eyes landing back on her.

councilor sevika.

oh, but she is already looking at you. oh, indeed. you uncross your legs and without breaking the eye contact, you saunter to where she is— only stopping when you are right in front of her. you address her.

“councilor shoola,” a hand darts out to propose a handshake. “it is nice to finally meet you. i believe our nation had been involved in a trading a while ago?”

councilor shoola accepts your handshake, “yes, yes, you’re correct. im also looking forward to working with you. i apologize for cutting our meeting short, but i need to talk about something with council–”

      you do not let her finish, you give her way, silently saying that it’s okay— she nods her head as a thank you and makes her way, leaving only you and sevika alone. 

your voice drops an octave lower, “councilor sevika, it is a pleasure to finally talk to you. i have heard many great things about you.”

“yeah?” her gruff voice weakens your knees, “bet it’s just me killing someone.”

      her eyes roll because that’s how the topsiders are, always mislabelling and spreading rumors. they were right of course but they don’t need to generalize her people. 

so grumpy, you think to yourself. “believe me, councilor, i have. also, aren’t you excited to see me?”

      you flutter your eyelashes at her, making yourself look just a tiny bit smaller. but all you get is a roll of eyes and a huff. but you do not let this bother you, you are here to work too after all.

“for what it is worth, sevika,” your arm moves to touch her bicep, “it is great to see you here, representing zaun.”

      her arm feels like it's on fire, and your touch feels like it's on fire. she looks down at your hand on her arm for a second before subtly shrugging it off. 

she stares coldly at you, “yeah, well, i need to do something or my home will fall apart.”

“yes, i am aware. and, for you to be able to achieve that, you will need help.” sevika shakes her head to interfere but you continue, “you will need resources, councilor, you will need funding and i will give it you— i will help you get it.”

“i do not need your hel–”

this time, you glare at her— your eyes seeming to glint dangerously under the light, your arms crossing, “shut it, councilor, you need me.” 

      you take a couple of steps towards her, uncrossing your arms and putting a finger underneath her strong jaw, you slowly lift her head. you mouth the words you need me; tapping her cheek and turning around to leave the room— not even caring to bid your farewell. she sees you talking with your assistant, and getting one last look from you before the door shuts behind you.

since when were you so commanding and assertive. sevika’s core clenched at your tone, her breath hitches, and her pupils dilating.

oh.