#tango fic

[munchkin1156]

It Takes Two To Tango

@mcyt-soulmate-sweepstakes

if anyone wants to read my really really long sappy message about the event it will be below the cut, along with my taglist, the scoring, and the doodles I made!

These are all artworks I made for my soulmate @reflingthefox’s fic Amber Orange which can be read on ao3!!!! It’s so good you guys should ALL check it out NOW

thank you!

(please don’t ask me why my user in the server is Jimmy Lunch Solidarity)

taglist: @i-am-beckyu, @da3dm, @faeiyn-cant-write, @boiled-ginger-ale, @local-squishmallow, @akatthatwants2sleep, @vocal-nyx-cords

okay last chance to run away before I give my thank yous! ….still here? Ookay, your choice!

I am so sorry. This is so long. I had to put it in photo form so that tumblr would accept it because otherwise it wouldn’t auto save as a draft

* contributor applications open

bee and fire’s t2t

[mawofthemagnetar]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

BOOM!

A nice new fic featuring space, knights, holidays, action, and all sorts of other fun things!

MERRY CHRISTMAS, @lindentree ! Here’s the first part of your Secret Santa, for the @mcytblrholidayexchange ! More chapters to come, once a day ‘till it’s done! (Except possibly Christmas Day!)

Enjoy!

[xxreadersxx]

{So since nobody gave me a grouping (lol) I picked my own. Tsukishima, Kuroo, Bokuto, Akaashi. Warning: May cause anxiety, a little bit sexual? I just needed a warning I think lol ok hope you enjoy! (BTW this songfic is more of a ‘I listened to this song as an inspiration, but the fic itself doesn’t need the song, ya know?)}

SONG: ‘El Tango De Roxanne’ from Moulin Rouge (youtube, Spotify)

Darkness consumes my sight. Where is this? Where am I? My mind blanks and all I see is black. I breathe a shaky breath. Music begins far away. My feet begin to move to the guitar. I look down and my naked body moves on its own, my hands crossing my body from my hips, then to my shoulders, then stretching up to the ceiling. I should be scared, but somehow I find comfort in the darkness.

Out of the dark, hands grasp into my own and a body presses against mine. Looking at the chest I feel my own red-frilled dress sway at my knees and a broad tux-covered chest pressed tightly against my own as we start to move in the void. I look up and the glare of glasses sparks in my vision. Behind the glasses, yellow eyes peer at me and a smirk plays on his lips. My mind can only ask silently who this tall boy is, but cannot make my lips move. He curtly whips my form around, dipping me harshly, my head falling backwards almost deep enough to touch the floor. Every movement calculated and hard, like he’s trying to break me. I shiver. He tightly grasps around my waist and neck and whispers, “The way you look at me makes me think you like me, am I wrong?”

The darkness surrounds me again as his form vanishes in a fine mist or pure white sparkles. The music continues, the violins causing bumps to form on my skin as I stumble around a bit.

Suddenly, warm arms wrap around me from behind hungrily, and lips lock onto my right ear, nibbling it softly. Grabbing at the large arms, I see my snug leather dress wrinkling from his tight embrace. Twisting me around firmly, he grabs my hands and twirls me under his arm. Locking fingers back together, and grabbing his shoulder, half for balance, and half for posture, he holds my low back, pressing me up against his hips. With his glossy black hair over one eye, and a lazy smile on his lips, his figure bends over mine slightly. I start to feel myself melt in his dark stare. Releasing my hip, he turns away, and I unfold away from him, wanting to run, but he only pulls me back, hurting my shoulder with the harsh tug. I spin like a top back into his embrace, my shoulders against his chest. He pushes my foot with his, and we glide to the side. His left hand grabs firmly onto my hip. I stare up to my right hand as his fingers trail down my arm slowly. His lips whisper into my ear, “May I be the one to take you home tonight, kitten?”

With a puff of red steam, he disappears, re-obsorbed into the blackness. My body grows cold, my feet beginning to ache from moving against my will. I close my eyes, hugging my body.

A soft, chilling hand embraces my cheek and I open my eyes slowly. Irises of gunpowder blue look lazily into my own as his hands glide slowly down my body and relax on my hips. My hands slide up his arms at the same pace and rest on his shoulders. I shudder, his cool air causing my skin to burn under his intense glare and thin fingers. My long, blue dress sways against my ankles as he twists me around, placing my shoulder blades against his chest. I reach up and grab his sharp jaw, and down to hold the hand at my hip. Crossing my one leg in front of the other, we move forward, our hips twisting in time to the music. He breathes in the scent of my neck, kissing under my ear gently. Exhaling, his voice huskily escapes his throat, “You think you can play me and run? No. I don’t think so.”

His body melts down my back as his form dissolves into the ground. I shiver, my hands shaking and a bad feeling sinks into my heart.

Both of my hands are grabbed in that moment and my heart drops to my stomach as I’m swung around like a doll. My arms are stretched out and my gold-glittered train twists around my calves as he suddenly stops the turn. Looking up at my partner, his duo toned-hair spikes behind him and his smile blinds me. My eyes widen as his laugh echoes out into the darkness. Pulling me close sloppily, I collapse into his chest. He grabs my hand, almost crushing it in his strong grip, and his other hand slams into my back, trapping me between his muscled arm and hard chest. I gasp at the tightness, but he doesn’t seem to hear me, continuing his steps and turns. Harshly, he grips onto my waist and I’m left to his mercy as he lifts me above his head. I grab onto his shoulders and look down into his wild eyes. Pulling me back down slowly, he wraps his arms around my waist, suspending me against his chest in the air and yells, “I’ve been watching you dance for a while,” he closes his eyes, only to then open them halfway, his aura changing, “you will be mine.” And I fall out of his embrace as he disappears in a cloud of soft grey feathers. I land hard on my feet, then collapse onto my knees hard, gasping for air as the darkness now suffocates me.

Suddenly the violins seem shrill and distant, the soft guitar’s plucking a verbal attack on my eardrums. My heart beats like a drum visibly shaking my chest and reverberating in my head. My breathing is erradic. I close my eyes for a second time, hoping this nightmare will end now.

Opening my eyes, the music makes my shoulders tremble and my hands shake. I notice glossy black shoes and look up. The men now surround me and wrap their arms around my body at different places, picking me up off the ground. The music crescendos and asaults my ears, invading my mind. Hands caress my waist, my face, my shoulders, my lips. Every inch of my body is touched as I twist and turn trying to evade their fingers. The boisterous man takes my hand and caresses his face with my palm, the cool touch of the gunpowder-eyed suitor pulls at my hips from behind, my other arm is getting kissed roughly by the blonde, all the way from wrist to shoulder. My legs are being hugged by the glossy haired seducer, his lips curl into a hungry grin as he looks up at me from my thigh, his hands stretching around me and up to grab at my back. All of their eyes look as if they want to devour me. My breath no longer enters my lungs fast enough and I start to choke. Tears pool in my eyes and stream down my cheeks. The dangerous atmosphere makes my skin crawl and they hold me tightly, tight enough that I can feel all of their hearts beating in one cadence. They speak at once, their voices echo in my mind as my feet lose purchase and my mind rips apart.

“You are mine.”

I shoot up in bed, my sweat drips from my face as I feel myself with my hands. My eyes dart around my empty bedroom as I gasp for air. In the background, I can hear muffled music and my heart stutters at the sound. I clutch at my blankets and rub my forehead. I reach for my phone, reminding myself that it was just a dream, and I turn on the device, blinding myself for a few moments.

Blinking away the flash imbedded in my sight, I take in the screen. The song playing sends a shiver down my spine, ‘El Tango de Roxanne’ is displayed on the cell and pictures from my dream flash through my mind. Turning off the song, I shiver and lay back down, closing my eyes once more, hoping for a much more relaxing rest. As my mind slips into a reverie, I doze off.

Darkness consumes my sight. Four voices reach my ears like a cult’s chantings.

“There is no escape, my love, not even in death.”

[munchkin1156]

HADM 3- Tangoo

And we’re back! My writing is going to get more over the place the longer I do this, so I hope you enjoy some floating islands!

Word count: 801

Tws: Technically post apocalyptic? But it doesn’t feel like it

As always, thanks you to @hermitadaymay for running this event!

. . .

According to the elders, there had used to be a proper world. Not just all these broken, floating islands. They'd sound bitter when they told it, followed by how it was humans who had ruined all that. Annoyed the gods and cursed the land, they had.

Tango wasn't certain they were right. This didn't feel much like a curse. In fact, it was a joy to him, to run and jump and feel alive. He felt it in his heart that this was the way it was supposed to be, no matter what the elders said. The fire in his soul, mixed with the air and water around him. The earth beneath his feet crumbled sometimes, sure, but there would always be another island to leap to, another tree that wouldn't burn to sleep under, when the sun got too hot, even for him.

Birds were one of the few large creatures that had thrived besides the fire-born, and they dominated the skies more than Tango ever could. Their colours, their wings, the way they flew like the sky meant everything- He could watch them for hours on end. And had, multiple times in the past. Other than bird watching, Tango usually wrote in his journal, and hunted things that belonged to the time before. He was rather proud of his disc collection, if he was being honest. He had nearly thirty collected so far, and was always finding more!

It wasn't a curse in his eyes, and never would be, but he couldn't help but wonder what the world might've once been like. That's why he asked the elders, even if he disagreed with their opinions. That's why he hunted up discs, even though he had no idea what they'd been for. Maybe to throw at people. His disc collection was his best one, yes, but the things Tango loved to find the most, (and he hardly ever got these), were the drawings. He never properly understood them, or what they used to draw with, since they didn't seem to have that odd grey stuff here anymore, but they were the most amazing thing he'd seen.

The one framed above his hideaway, a small cavern in one of the larger islands, was a drawing of a flying machine. It had been drawn on blue paper, and over the past couple months, Tango had been studying it, slowly decoding it bit by bit. Now he was out material gathering. It was harder, since cloth and wood were rarer, but he was getting there. Slow and steady. It was something like a hang glider, except attached to your back, and it used some sort of fuel, called rockets. He was learning things. He asked questions to anyone who might know the answer, even the travelers who passed through, who he'd previously shown no interest in.

He was going to finish this, no matter what anyone said. And, luckily he hadn't told anyone, so there was no one telling him it was a stupid idea, or that it wasted resources. If he had, this would take even longer.

Tango watched birds much more frequently, but now, while he still admired their beauty, he was also watching them for how their body was built, how their wings moved. It was a whole different type of admiration. He burnt sketch after sketch into his journals, until he'd had to ask for several more just in case. They had been specially made so that they wouldn't catch on fire, since that's what fire born did, but they also hadn't counted on someone as determined as Tango to write things down.

People started noticing things, obviously. How he wasn't around as much, the way his eyes gleamed in excitement when he looked to the West, the odd questions, and how whenever someone tried to speak with him about anything other than what he was asking, he excused himself as soon as he could. But there wasn't much they could do. They could only hope, whatever it was that had caught his interest, would be over soon. Maybe it was a girl.

Little did they know, it wasn't going to end for a long long while. Once Tango would finish what he had named an Elytra, he would feel a different spark inside him. One that let him create things, and build things others couldn't even dream of under this sun. With wings on his back, he would know he couldn't be happy in the small town he grew up in. He would learn about the ruins of the past, and the people exploring them. He would head off to find them. Something like a new beginning, if you will. And he would be ready to start again, but start again flying.

Ready to soar with the birds.

. . .

Taglist: @i-am-beckyu , @da3dm , @faeiyn-cant-write , @boiled-ginger-ale , @local-squishmallow, @akatthatwants2sleep , @vocal-nyx-cords

Taglist just for fics: @mushr00mgurl

See you tomorrow!

[mawofthemagnetar]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Rods from God chapter six is up!

The groundbound Hermits discuss the problem. Doc's being cagey, and Tango is tired...

Enjoy!

[mawofthemagnetar]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The second-last chapter of Iron Dragon is here!

The Hermitage residence make some new friends, and Keralis sees something he'd only ever dreamed of...

Enjoy!

[mawofthemagnetar]

Language flows from the water.

In their dreams, more often than not, players dream of water.

Beef dreams of a mighty river, wide as an ocean, crashing out on the tide’s retreat to thunder into the sea. As the seasons turn, it clogs with ice, and in his dreams he sits on that ancient shore. And he listens to the lap of the waves.

They call me the St. Lawrence, He whispers to Beef, and you are one of mine.

Language, you see, flows from the water. All players know this. The water is not real- an illusion, a shared dream, across an infinite expanse of dreamscapes. But this much is clear- language flows from the water, and the water teaches the players to speak.

Mumbo’s dreams are similar to Beef’s. A mighty river, the breadth of a thousand men, crashing in and out on the tide. His river is never clogged with ice; instead it drains a seventh of an island, mud and silt drowning in its waves. And as he sits on the shore of his dreamscape, watching the tide roll in and out, the river sings to him, whispering.

I am the Severn, She says, and you are one of mine.

When a player wants to know more about their fellows, they don’t ask “Where are you from?” That’s a pointless question. Hypno will respond with “I’m from Hermitcraft.” Interesting, yes, but not really relevant. Instead, they will ask “Who are your people?” Or perhaps, more directly, “Who is your river?” Because the answer, as Doc will attest, is “I am a child of the Rhine.”

He’s never seen the Rhine. Nobody has. But the Rhine taught him to speak. Language flows from the water, and players do not forget.

Sometimes, it’s not a river. Gem’s dreams are of an ocean, thunderous and mighty, crashing cold, foamy water on red sandstone, battered by the tide. In the deeps, she knows, the waters teem with fish. And as she sits on that craggy shore and watches the storms roll in, she hears it speak.

I am the Atlantic, She roars in a voice like a thunderclap, and you are one of mine.

But sometimes- rarely- a player’s dreams won’t be of water. Sometimes, they don’t- can’t- dream of it. Who then teaches the words? Who then gifts the player their tongue?

Tango knows. For in his dreams, great clouds of dust roll in across a baking plain. The sun beats down on the scrubby bushes as the sandstorm towers higher and higher. And as he sits on a rock and watches the dust grow, he hears it.

Child of the Dust, They whisper, you are one of mine.

For when the water fails to reach a player, the Dust will come and shepherd them. The Dust teaches them their tongue. They’re not alone- sometimes, the Jungle will take up the mantle. Other times, the Snow will. No matter what, in their dreams, a player is taught their tongue.

Keralis dances on the banks of the Vistula as the sun sets on her waters. Etho dreams of a thin, muddy creek, rocky walls and cacti, swallows chirping at him as he stares into a perfect blue sky. The Milk, he says his name is. And on and on it goes. Every player, a river, an ocean, a stream, a pond.

Language flows from the water.

Or it flows from dreams of Dust.