#hermitcraft oneshots

[thathermitweirdo]

Sibling Issues

Hi everyone! This is a oneshot I wrote over TWO years ago. Kinda crazy, but here we are. I wanna start moving some oneshots over here to tumblr, but if you’d like to read more, check out my Wattpad :)

Anyway, Enjoy!

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Xisuma sat on the edge of his storage tower, just as the sun began to descend over the jungle. The dusty orange glow of the horizon caused the leaves to gleam in the sunset. With the wind brushing through his chestnut hair, the admin took in a deep breath of fresh air. His helmet sat on his lap, allowing X to breathe freely.

Hermitcraft season seven had come to its end. Xisuma had let the hermits head to season eight, while he stayed behind to wrap everything up. The quiet was nice, to take a few moments to enjoy the peacefulness of the empty server. No pranking or firework rockets in the distance, the only sound was the rustling of the leaves that shook with the wind.

Xisuma watched silently as the sun slowly crossed over the horizon, the sky turning dark as the moon began to take its place in the sky. Stars twinkled above, gleaming down on the quiet little server. The admin shut his eyes, feeling the wind against his face, the gentle breeze brushing against his cheeks.

"Alright Xisuma. Enough wasting time. Get back to work." The Brit spoke to himself with a heavy sigh, placing his helmet over his head as he got to his feet.

The admin snapped his fingers together, a purple screen appearing before him. Xisuma typed away at the keyboard, hesitating as his hand hovered over the 'enter' key. This could risk everything that he had worked for. The identity that he had built, the life that he had created from scratch, it all could come crumbling to the ground if something went wrong.

"This needs to be done," Xisuma said to himself, trying to reassure his decision, although he didn't sound saddened or hesitant, even as he continued to speak. "I can't just leave him in the void. I never should have banned him to begin with."

He quickly pressed the 'enter' key on the screen, and within moments, Xisuma had spotted the chat message popping up.

<EvilXisuma joined the game>

Typing in another command, Xisuma hit enter once again, his brother suddenly teleporting right in front of the admin. Ex was stunned at the unfamiliar method of travel, dazed after returning from the void. It had been so long in the silence, the cold, empty, darkness that he had been locked away in.

Ex ripped off his helmet, dropping to his knees as he gasped for fresh air. He had breathed in the air of the void for so long that it burned his lungs to breathe the air of the overworld, but the evil hermit didn't care. It felt so fresh and warm, it was the greatest thing that Ex had felt in months.

He looked up at his brother, Ex still breathing heavily as his eyes flashed with burning hatred. There were deep scars across the Brit's face, much worse than the marks across Xisuma's face. The cuts and slashes were covering the majority of his face.

"Why...why am I here..?" Ex panted, his eyes trailing to the ground, unable to meet the steely glare of his brother. Xisuma smiled.

"I couldn't leave you there."

His brother laughed at that. "Oh, you couldn't leave me there? Well, you took EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME!" Ex snapped with his eyes looking up from the ground, the fire in his glare quickly burning out as he looked back to the safety of the ground.

"It would have been better if you had just left me there." He muttered underneath his breath, Ex placing his helmet over his head and adjusting it with a scowl across his face.

"I know," Xisuma said, staring down at his helpless brother. "But you also know I couldn't do that."

The two were silent for a couple moments, neither attempting to lock eyes with one another. After what felt like an eternity, Ex finally spoke up.

"W-...what season is it..? Last I remember, I was in season six, then I was suddenly back in the void."

"It's going to be season eight soon enough," Xisuma explained, "we just finished season seven. You and I are currently in my season seven base."

Ex smiled cruelly. "So, you're letting me join season eight?" He asked jokingly, Xisuma letting out a weak chuckle in response, his eyes narrowing.

"You'd tear everything apart. I can't let you do that."

"What? Just because you don't want the hermits to know the truth about you?" Ex asked tauntingly, his tone mocking the admin. Xisuma pulled out his blade, he and his brother locked eyes with one another. Ex grinned at this.

"There he is. There's the Xisuma that I know.." he said with a flat chuckle, Ex's words causing him to be met by the tip of his brother's sword.

"You don't know me at all." Xisuma growled, Ex audibly laughing.

"I know you better than any of the hermits ever could. I know the real you. You, Xisumavoid, are a heartless, cruel, monster. You kill anyone who figures out who you really are, just like how you killed Python and Biffa, along with anyone else who stood in your way."

Xisuma grinned, dragging the sword across his brother's neck. "They were the smart ones. But everyone else is too dense to realize. They all think that I'm just a derp, that I'm just 'good old Xisuma'. And they'll never think any differently of me."

Ex cussed underneath his breath, knowing that it was true. Although, the cussing turned into quiet laughter underneath his breath. The evil hermit smiled at his brother.

"So you're going to kill me? So no one will know?"

Xisuma smiled. "You know me so well, brother."

"Then, let me at least ask one question."

Xisuma thought for a moment, but he slowly nodded in agreement. Ex looked up at the admin, his eyes no longer filled with hatred, but with sorrow.

"Do you regret it? Any of it?” His brother asked earnestly, eyes filled with what seemed to be pleading.

“You stole the life that I was going to have,” He went on. “And you put me in the void while you ran off to join hermitcraft. I could have come along, I could have had something more than this worthless life in the void!”

X rolled his eyes, slightly raising his blade, but his brother persisted and he continued.

Ex stood up and stepped closer, almost taunting his sibling. The pleading gaze changed, shifted to a cold, yet burning determination. “But instead, you discard me while constantly lying to the people you called your friends! You gave me all these scars and made me this way! So tell me, brother, do you regret any of it?! From ruining my life to killing those hermits you called your friends?!"

Xisuma thought for a moment, then slowly, yet reluctantly nodded. "I do. I do regret one thing..." he said, lowering his sword away from his brother's neck.

Ex could barely react as the sword was shoved through his chest, Xisuma's face practically glowing with insane joy as a crazed grin spread across his face. Blood trickled down the netherite blade, dripping off the sword and into a small puddle on the ground.

"I regret not getting rid of you sooner."

Ex chuckled drowsily at that, it was clear he was beginning to lose consciousness. Xisuma pulled his blade out of his brother's chest, causing Ex to fall to the ground. He looked past the admin, looking out at the jungle, a weak smile coming across his face.

"T...the one thing I wanted to see while I was in the void...more than anything…” He began to cough and choke, blood running up his throat and spewing out his mouth as he tried to speak. “—was the sun..nice to see you w-waited just s-so I couldn't get the thing I wanted m-most.."

"Quit whining." Xisuma growled as he stabbed his sword into Ex's side, pulling out the blade once his brother had stopped breathing. A warm puddle of crimson blood surrounded the body, the admin dropping his weapon beside his dead sibling.

"I never really did like you. You were nothing more than a nuisance if you ask me." Xisuma said carelessly, shrugging it off as if Ex had meant less than nothing to him.

"Messing with you, the hermits, anyone really, all of this is more fun than you could ever imagine, Ex." Xisuma said, speaking to his brother as if he were still alive.

"The rush of killing, it's incredible. You wouldn't know. You were nice compared to what I've done, and that's why you're dead.” He said, dragging his gloved finger through the warm blood on the edge of his blade.

“This is all a game, and you just couldn't figure out how to play it right."

—

Xisuma stepped into spawn, the other hermits waving at him. They had been waiting for the admin before starting the new season. The large group of hermits all smiled and greeted him, unaware of what he had just done. Xisuma grinned and acted like his 'regular' old self.

The season started and all the hermits ran off to gather materials. Keralis had joined Xisuma in a small group with a few other hermits, gathering wood and stone to start. He noticed X joining the server, waving happily before coming up to the admin when everyone else was out of earshot.

"What took you so long, Shiswami? I almost thought you weren't coming!" He laughed, smiling at the admin. Xisuma chuckled, his smile sweet and his voice calm.

"Oh, you know, just sibling issues."

[vivianquill]

Tango couldn't remember the last time he slept.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd worked on a redstone project either.

That was irrelevant! He was perfectly fine. There was a reason he was down by Gem's docks. Right?

"Tango?"

Speak of the devil and she shall appear! That was Gem herself, pulling Tango around. He didn't want to, there was something about the--

"Tango. Tango, hey." Gem forced him to meet her eyes, "Don't tell me you've been possessed again. After last time? C'mon man, you said you'd. . . do. . ."

Tango didn't know what Gem was talking about. He wasn't possessed. Tango knew what that felt like and that wasn't this.

Gem got an odd look in her eye, before latching her hand around his wrist and dragging him back up the path towards his house. But--

That wasn't home anymore.

Not when his place was down by the water-- in the water-- he was waiting for someone to come back--

"No-- Tango-! Ugh." Gem planted herself between Tango and the mists over the water-- the place where he had promised to be.

Tango found himself sitting at the edge of the dock. There was something tied around his wrist, but he didn't mind. The tips of his boots were dragging in the foam.

"Tango, homie-buddie. It's freezing out here, you should come inside." Skizz had rested a hand on Tango's shoulder.

"Can't you hear it?" Tango asked, breathless as it came back.

The song was promising him the answers to everything. He just had to be here to hear it. To decipher it's song.

"Hear what?"

Tango was fighting against the pull of hands, trying to take him away. His friends-- not friends anymore-- they wanted to take the music for themselves-- "I promised! I promised--"

His mouth was full of the taste of blood. Blood and cotton and he couldn't hear the rush of the waves anymore. He was too warm. There were voices nearby.

"How is he?" Oh, Tango recognized that voice, that was Xisuma.

"Still unresponsive. Is Ren-?" That sounded like Impulse.

"The same way."

Impulse sighed, "He's too quiet. Tango's never been this quiet."

"I'm listening." Tango had to listen otherwise he might miss the music.

He couldn't remember who the music went to, but-- It was someone he needed to be there for. How long had it been? He needed to get back to the water.

Tango was on his feet, trying to push past the arms holding him back. There was a snarl pooling on his tongue, frustration sparking deep in his bones. He needed to get back to the water.

He yelped as someone slammed into his back, knocking Tango off his feet and into the grass. He writhed, kicking, his tail lashing and sparking as he struggled to get free. There was nothing in his inventory. He had nothing but his hands and his fire and the grass around him and they were closing in--

Tango was floating in the bay, Gem's conduit letting him breathe like he should be able to. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears, his fire was sputtering, angry about being underwater.

Well too bad fire, cause Tango was right where he was supposed to be.

As evidenced by who was in front of him.

The someone, the who he'd promised to be there for when he returned.

The song wrapped around him like a blanket, smothering the chill from the sea and guiding Tango close. He didn't quite remember where he'd met them before but he knew that this was the right thing.

Until he was out of the conduit's range.

Until the water that was so welcoming before now choked at his air and bit at his warmth.

Until the song that'd promised him everything suddenly disappeared.

A hand hauled Tango out of the water by the back of his shirt, dumping him in a sopping heap on the sand. He spit up half the ocean by the time he was able to breathe again.

He was hearing words, but he couldn't figure out what Skizz was saying. Or Impulse for that matter. The music was gone though.

It had abandoned him and now?

Tango didn't know what to do next.

[dvskf4llz]

HIYYYAAAA DUSK IT'S CLOUDY HERE!!!! I've missed ya! I hope you're doing alright and remember, you don't need to be constantly writing oneshots so that you can post them! Take as much time as you need <3

Anyways! Could I request some Valentines HCs with some of the Hermits? Maybe Ren, Xisuma and Grian again? Or just any Hermits you want and can do! :D

I do apologize for asking for so many Hermits last time- you are allowed to do as many Hermits as you want <3

Much love and always take care of yourself! <3 -☁️ anon

Hiii cloudy!! And hello to everyone else aswell!! I'm actually back this time I swear- I do apologize for not following the uploading schedule I promised, I just didn't feel motivated enough to write anything but now I do!

So have some Valentines HCs! <3

Valentines with the Hermits HCs

𝓜𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓲𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓼 (𝓢𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭) 𝔁 𝓖𝓝!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

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This oneshot contains: A bunch of corny stuff, fluff, kissing, slight suggestiveness (?), cuddling, fluff and overall just some wholesomeness <3

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GoodTimesWithScar

- With Scar, he either tends to forget about Valentines or he does remember Valentines

- This year, he remembered. By the time you were awake, you bet he made you your favorite breakfast. He had woken up a few hours before you did just to do that for you for Valentines, not that he doesn't sometimes do that on regular days aswell

- Scar's the type of guy to prefer more simple stuff, he wouldn't go all out on Valentines but he would still do his best to make it special.

- He'd get you your favorite chocolates and just a simple Valentines card he made for you, the card had a very sweet paragraph that explained how much Scar loved you

- If you wanted to go out on a date, Scar would surprise you with a simple yet cute picnic date on a spot he figured you liked. He had also picked up some flowers to give to you, the flowers just so happened to be your favorites aswell!

- If you wanted to just stay at home, Scar wouldn't mind at all. He'd still get you flowers though, he couldn't just not get you anything for Valentines. For the rest of the day, you two just mostly spent time together in bed cuddling.

Docm77

- When I say this man will spoil you, he will go ALL out.

- You would wake up to a whole feast of all the different foods you like, it was practically enough to be considered as three meals.

- He'd definitely also have made a whole build just for you, most likely a huge build of a teddy bear that held a heart that had the words: "I love you!"

- You think that's all Doc got you? Oh hell no. He got you a whole bouquet of flowers, your favorite chocolates, a small version of the teddy bear he made but it's actually a stuffed teddy bear and much more.

- This man takes Valentines as an excuse to spoil you even more than he usually does, but he still makes sure tone it down a bit if you tell him it's too much already

- If you were fine with going out on a date outside, you bet Doc would bring you to a place you've always wanted to go to or would you bring you to a fancy restaurant

- If you just wanted to stay at home, Doc would try to persuade you first but would soon give up as he respected your decision. That didn't mean though that he wasn't going to still try his best to spoil you, but at the end of the day you both just cuddled together in bed after a long day of Doc spoiling you <3

Rendog

- Ren would be a mix of both Scar and Doc honestly, he'd try his best to make Valentines both extravagant while still trying to make it simple enough to your liking

- Just like Scar, Ren would wake up earlier to make you your favorite food for breakfast. He'd try to make a cute little design with the food, but would fail a bit but it's not like you minded.

- Like Doc, Ren would also spoil you with gifts such as, your favorite flowers, favorite chocolates, a stuffed animal that just so happened to be your favorite animal and a lot more things

- Ren wouldn't mind at all whether or not you wanted to go out or just stay at home, he respects your decisions.

- If you wanted to go out, Ren would be all for it. He'd take you out on a nice dinner date at a place where it just has the most wonderful view. And of course, the food was but your favorite.

- If you wanted to just stay at home, Ren would be fine with that too! He'd happily bring you to you two's shared bed and cuddle you the whole time, he would also definitely be all up for just a simple conversation. He loves you and will always respect what you want <3

Bdubs

- This man will not let you get out of bed, like at ALL.

- As soon as you woke up and tried to stand up, Bdubs was there to stop you by pouncing onto you with his full body. You may or may not have hit your head as this happened, which Bdubs apologized profusely for and made it up with kisses

- After that happened, he still would not let you get up. He was not going to budge, not even if you give him puppy eyes or try to persuade him with.. Ways...

- You wanna eat? Bdubs will bring a bed tray with your favorite food, it also had some of your favorite flowers in a vase as it was one of Bdubs' gifts for you today.

- You wanna go out? Too bad, Bdubs will stay laying ontop of you so that you can't move. You don't exactly have a choice since Bdubs was ontop of you, so you just had to give in.

- You wanna have a date? Consider a bed date that's filled with cuddling and kisses, probably some other things aswell but we'll not get on that subject yet

- Where's your gifts? Don't worry, Bdubs would hand you all the gifts he got for you for Valentines. It consisted a bunch of your favorite stuff, he even went out of his way to learn how to create an origami version of your favorite animal!

- You two ended the day with cuddling of course, it's just a necessary to do every night!

Grian

- Grian doesn't try to go too eccentric on Valentines, but you bet he's not going to stop his mischievous nature.

- You two would be doing something sweet as making Valentines cookies, which would end up getting a bunch of flour on the kitchen and on both you and Grian. Both of you would be giggling your butts off as an accidental flour spill on Grian turned into a whole flour war, it looked liked winter in the Kitchen afterwards. You both agreed to just leave it for tomorrow as you both continued on with Valentines!

- Grian probably would prefer to just stay at home, but he wouldn't mind taking you out on a cute date. Maybe a stroll around the server, holding hands and happily talking while the other listens

- Meanwhile if you didn't mind also staying at home, then you bet you both would be playing with Maui and Pearl. You two would be sitting down on the ground as both cats got equal attention from the both of you, both you and Grian definitely would end up having to chase after the cats soon enough

- If you wanted to just sit down and chat with Grian, he'd be good with that! He'd willingly listen to you talk with admiration in his eyes, he just loves you so much ahhsbshdhb

- By the end of the day, Grian would have his wings wrapped around you while you two cuddled on the couch with both Maui and Pearl on both of your guys' laps. Just a sweet wholesome moment <3

Xisuma

- While yes, Xisuma does remember about Valentines. He struggles to find enough time to spend time with you on this day of love, he would feel so bad because he couldn't spend all that much time with you. He would apologize profusely everytime he would have to get pulled into something important, you of course would re-assure him to calm him down.

- Xisuma would always be trying to make it quick so that he can spend time with you, he would also make sure to grab you some gifts when he just so happens to pass by a store that had some things you liked

- Once Xisuma finally had the chance to spend time with you, he would rush home as fast as he could. He would be at the door with him panting like crazy as he ran as fast as he could back home, he could've flown back home with his elytra but he kind of forgot about that..

- After catching his breath, he'd give you the gifts he got for you looking slightly bashful. You were surprised to say the least, but you weren't ungrateful. Xisuma was definitely getting some sweet kisses, and a lot of them.

- If you told Xisuma you wanted to go out on a date, he'd bring you out to a slightly high hill and would sit down with you to watch the sunset. After, you both would then stargaze in peace, chatting from time to time as you both started up at the sky. Xisuma would definitely start naming different stars off of you, even using some of your nicknames just to be a bit funny

- If you wanted to stay in though, Xisuma was fine with that! You both would do some sweet yet simple couple stuff like learning how to do different things, Xisuma would definitely try to teach you how to play the guitar.

- And of course, ending the day with cuddles and sweet kisses in bed. Xisuma would have his armour off so that you could actually feel the warmth from his body and just actually feel his touch from his skin, overall it was just a sweet and simple day <3

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You reached the end, congrats! :D

I'm a little late to post this but I still got it! I hope you all enjoyed it, I do want to thank rubi for helping me get this ideas so shoutout to them!

Oh and, if you're wondering what you got for the Hermits.. That's up to your imagination ;) (Go wild.)

Anyways, have a good day/night! Always take care of yourself lovelies! Get all the rest you need and don't feel pressured to do anything! Love you all! /p <3

[tearsonmarz]

Scarian Flirting and Fishing pt. 1

“Are you alright?” Raising his head Grian looked up to see a guy with brown hair and muddy green eyes examining at him.

“I’m fine.” He brushed off, going through the items he had acquired in the past hour. “Where did a put that flint and— ah!” Muttering to himself- trying to not pay any mind to the weird guy watching over him- he lit a fire and began to prepare his lunch.

“You don’t exactly seem fine.” Grian shot a look at him before rolling his eyes and going back to his cooking. The brunette cleared his throat before walking towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“Your logs seemed a little out of place. Wouldn’t want to burn yourself now, would you?”

“It’s fine, I can take care of myself. Why don’t you just mind your own business.” He scoffed, fixing the logs himself and shooing away the stranger.

“I’d love to, but sadly I’m cursed with wanting to help people. Especially wanderers who can take care of themselves.” The stranger shot Grian a wink to his disgust.

Deciding to ignore the man, he put is food to cook before going back to looking through his haul. Name tags, saddles, boots, bottles, fish, junk, junk and more junk. Nothing of interest and certainly not what he was hoping to find. After roaming the stream for an hour you’d think he’d find something of note, but nope! Just more trash he’d have to toss out once it had accumulated enough to be dragged instead of carried.

“So... what are you hoping to find.” A yelp came out of Grian, he stared daggers into the man hovering over him.

“What is wrong with you? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Sorry, you just seemed so lost in thought, you didn’t even realize your food was finished.” The stranger chuckled to himself as red painted Grian’s ears.

“You could’ve just said so.” He pouted, earning a grin from the man.

“Does this mean I can stick around?”

“I’d like it if you didn’t, but I have a sneaking suspicion that you won’t listen.”

“Ah, you already know me so well. I can already tell we’re going to get along.” Without another word, he went to sit down next to Grian. “I’m Scar by the way. What’s your name?”

“Grian” He spoke in between bites.

“That’s a bit of an odd name. It’s suits you.”

There was something about this guy that Grian couldn’t quite put his finger on. He didn’t know him, but every fiber of his being was telling him this man was going to cause him quite a bit of trouble. Then again, anyone who tried to openly flirt with the first person they see, is bound to bring trouble wherever they go.

“Now that we’re acquainted, do you mind telling me what you’re looking for?” Grian slowed his chewing, pausing to think about whether or not to tell him. They had just met afterall, there was really no point in telling him. It’s not like this guy was going to stick around for very long.

“Uhm… It’s a little personal—”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to pry. But I guess that’s what I get for being a little nosy.” Scar laughed it off. Even though it felt like he had messed up, Grian did appreciate him backing off.

“Well, I will say, it’s just a book. Nothing too special. Just something that I need.” This much should be fine right?

“A bit odd, but I guess it’s fitting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I just... You seem a bit unusual? Not in a bad way! Just out of the ordinary. I don’t know what I’m saying half of the time, so don’t mind me.” Shaking his head, he drew himself forward. “I didn’t mean anything of it. I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Without another word, Grian packed away his things and grabbed his fishing rod. Returning to the river, he sighed hoping for something different to be caught on his line.

“Was that sigh for me or for you?”

“Me. Do you just never make any noise when you move?”

“I’m quick, and fast like a cat. Of course, I’m not going to make any noise—” He stumbled as Grian turned to him.

“Obviously not as graceful.” Grian smirked, “You might do with a couple of dancing lessons.”

“Oh, I don’t dance. That is unless you want to teach me?”

“You couldn’t pay me enough.” He reeled in his line after feeling a bite, already knowing it was just another fish.

“I’d think I’m better company than all these fish you’re catching.”

“At least they’re quieter than you are.”

“Ouch, sick of me already? It’s hardly been any time at all.”

“Feels like forever.” Grian whispered underneath his breath before casting his line again.

“Already talking about our future? You must be a man after my heart.”

Part Two

[nhothicket]

ON MY KNEE IM IN LOVE WITH YOUR BAND AU ON MY KNEES BEGGING FOR ANYTHING ELSE YOU HAVE TO SPARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A FANFIC, FANART, JUST A SIMPLE LIKE ANYTHING TEXT POST SOBBING AND WEEPING AT YOUR FEET!!!!!!!!

I decided to do both some art and a fic because you asked so nicely!! Thank you for the nice ask, I hope this is what you were looking for ^v^

I couldn't come up with a good title for this fic whoops.

Words - 1.4k

No warnings, they're gay and they act gay

Summary - Etho finds himself dragged away from the safety of his tour bus and into the den of very scary and very cool rockstar, Bdoubleo.

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"Wash up on your six." Pause lightly elbowed Etho with a snicker. "Comin' right for ya."

"Hurry up then." Etho tried to push his bandmates into the bus, but the chase was over before it began.

"Etho!" The threat approached.

"Beef, move-"

"Sorry man, you're on your own." Beef climbed on and turned to give him an entirely unapologetic smile. "You guys have fun now."

"Hey-" The bus door shut right in his face. "Beef! Pause! Hey!"

"Ethooo!" Two arms slung around his neck from behind, awkwardly pulling him down and backward. Etho gagged and turned around. Face to face with the tiny menace of the festival grounds. "Long time no see!"

"Hey, Bdoubleo."

"So formal, you're no fun, sweetheart." Bdubs puffed his cheeks out. "It's been like a y- like whole year, c'mon, loosen up!"

"It's been a few months and I'm busy."

"No you ain't. I saw your buddies ditch ya." Bdubs offered up all the charm he could muster. "Wanna hang out in my van?"

"Not creepy at all." Etho's protest was weak willed. He leaned down and ruffled Bdubs' hair without even thinking about it, it came as a second nature at this point. "Yeah, sure."

"You just can't deny me. I'm irresistible!"

"Uh-huh."

"Your sarcasm is no use!" Bdubs dragged Etho across the lot to his shabby old van. Etho would judge, but if it weren't for Beef and Pause, he'd be touring out of the back of his ancient pickup. Bdubs threw the back doors open and hopped inside. "Didya see my set this morning? I know it was a bit early for someone like you."

"Of course I did." Etho gracefully ignored the last comment. Perched on the edge of the trunk, Bdubs' enthusiasm was contagious, his prideful smile was so genuine it made Etho smile a bit under his mask in a shallow imitation. "Loud as always."

"You know it!" The back of Bdubs' van was surprisingly clean. Two seats sat on each side and a mini fridge was pressed into the back corner. A soft mat was rolled up opposite to it, presumably Bdubs' bed. Bdubs got up to flop onto a seat and pat the spot next to him. "Beer?"

"Uhh..." As soon as Etho sat down an arm settled around his shoulders. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"That's what I like to hear." Bdubs opened up his little fridge and tossed Etho a can. He refused to remove his arm from Etho's shoulders and instead used his teeth to crack his own can open, kicking the fridge shut. "Off with the mask! I'm not some fanboy, I'm the real deal! Itsh been so long, I've missed seeing your dopey face."

"Bold words coming from the goofiest solo act I've ever seen."

"I am not goofy! I'm hard!"

"Oh?" Etho pulled his mask down just to show Bdubs his smug smirk.

"Don't- don't give me that! You know what I mean!" Bdubs growled. "I'm a rockstar!"

"You were like decades ago."

"And still going strong!" Bdubs took an obnoxious gulp from his beer. "You are awfully mouthy for a man who plays a freakin' keytar, what decade is it for you?"

"You'd know, old man."

"I am not- Okay, old lady! Fresh outta the 1600s!"

"Boomer."

"That's my name! Don't wear it out, Ethel!"

They glared at eachother for a moment, locked in a silent staring contest. Bdubs and his obnoxious doe eyes were forever unbeatable though, and Etho was forced to blink. A very ungraceful winner cheered and crushed a can to further punctuate his manly dominance.

"I'm never forgiving Pause for telling you."

"Aww, but its so cute." Bdubs pinched Etho's cheek. "What, your parents wanted a girl or something?"

"Sure, something like that." Etho sipped from his beer, sliding a bit down the seat so Bdubs could more comfortably pull his charm. As small as Bdubs was, it was always comical watching him stretch to take up the more dominant flirting positions. Etho knew he'd sit there with his arm up around his shoulders until it went numb if that's what it took.

"You haven't told me you missed me yet."

"I forgot I even knew you."

"Ouch! Rude." Bdubs leaned closer and winked. "I think about you all the time."

"Yeah, because you're the most jealous person I know."

"Guilty as charged!" Bdubs chirped. He easily slid right back into joking when his attempt at flirting was met with more banter; Etho wasn't sure he'd be able to recover that quickly himself.

"Plotting my downfall, huh?"

"I'll get you some day."

"I'm rooting for you."

"Thank you, sweetheart! You're always on my side." Bdubs tapped his can to Etho's. "To ruining your career."

"To ruining my career."

The pair fell into a lull, Bdubs kept chatting, but it was mostly white noise. Bdubs talked just to talk and Etho listened just to listen. It was only a few beers later and the lull transitioned into a comfortable buzz. Bdubs got a bright idea. He reached over the seats in the middle of the van, clumsily pulling over his decorated acoustic guitar.

"Any requests, Easy?"

"Anything but one of your own." Etho absent-mindedly dropped his arm around Bdubs' shoulders, reestablishing the connection that had been broken when the shorter man went to get his instrument.

"You are so mean to me." Bdubs puffed his cheeks out as he thought. "We should do some music together sometime."

"You'd be eaten alive." Etho considered the reputation Bdubs had. "I can see it already— you fighting with all the people online."

"It'd be worth it." Bdubs played a few random chords. "We could do a love duet."

"With Pause? I'm not a vocalist, Bdubs."

"You didn't deny being in love with me."

"I wouldn't have to love you to sing a song with you."

"I'd write it about us, baby."

"Uh-huh." A brief silence started to build, but Bdubs quickly broke the tension with a snicker, Etho followed suit. "You're an idiot."

"C'mon! You got a good voice. We could do an epic rock ballad."

"I'm good."

"Your loss!" Bdubs turned back to his guitar, but Etho could see the mischief brewing on his face. "You still like Paramore?"

"Don't play it."

"I learned a song just for you!"

"Don't play it, Bdubs." He already knew what the sappy romantic had in mind.

"You are so unappreciative. I go out of my way to learn a nice song from the 'music' you like." Bdubs threw up air quotes and Etho just rolled his eyes. How a man who'd sold his soul to the system could stand to be so critical of what counted as music was beyond him.

"Give me your guitar."

"No!" Bdubs got two chords out before Etho pulled it from his hands. "Hey! Hey! Give it here!"

"I'm not letting you try to serenade me with a song you heard on the radio."

"You know it would work! C'monnn!"

"Absolutely not." Etho held the guitar away from Bdubs, but regrettably, he couldn't hide his smile when his mask was around his neck.

"You come into my house! Sit on my bed! And dare disrespect me like this?"

"We are in the back of a van, Bdoubleo."

"My home away from home!" Etho leaned across the trunk and dropped the guitar onto the other seat. Bdubs immediately tried to lunge for it, but Etho caught him in a bear hug before he could even stand up. In fact, being hugged instantly stopped Bdubs in his tracks. "Woah, hey- guess I didn't need to serenade you at all!"

"Sure." Etho pulled away so he could see Bdubs' face. Alcohol warmed cheeks, dark eyes, and a stupid smirk.

"Like what you see?"

"Maybe."

"Shomehow, you manage to dry text when you talk." Bdubs rolled his eyes. He leaned up and kissed Etho, his patience worn thin in his buzz. Etho pulled him closer. "I missed you."

"Me too." Etho finally admitted. They sat with their foreheads pressed together.

"You could afford to text back more often, I know you ain't that freakin' famous."

"Isn't the anticipation more fun?"

"Don't play coy! I know you're just lazy."

"Guilty." Bdubs pressed a flurry of kisses to Etho's jaw.

"You're lucky I even allow you in my pre- in my presence, I don't usually kiss fans."

"It's a good thing I don't care much for sellouts then."

"Kiss my ass."

"Ohh, the bad boy said a curse word."

"Get out of my van, I'm sick of your stupid face already." Bdubs grumbled. Yet, his arms stayed locked around Etho's waist. Etho made no attempt to change that.

"Gonna be at our set tomorrow? It's past your bedtime."

"You're worth stayin' up for." Bdubs cooed. "Better dedicate a song to me."

"We'll play twinkle twinkle little star for you."

"On your nerdy little fake guitar?"

"On my nerdy little fake guitar."

"Adorable."

[autisticmao]

GENRE: fluff - maybe crackish?

FEATURED: joel

WARNINGS: none

PROMPT: Etho loses his mask, and finds who the thief who stole it was.

WORD COUNT: 759

//one day i will get back to writing angst... but for now:

//also this idea has been in the works since the beginning of writing these two- so it looks as tho i joined the obsessed joke sorta late. sjsns

"Where even is it?!" A groan of frustration leaves from Etho, his voice echoed the room after slamming the top part of the chest down, a flurry of noise follows the action.

To put it simply, Etho has lost his mask. He wasn't quite sure how or when, but during the past few days and up until now, the mask was gone with no trace.

A sigh of defeat leaves from the ashen-haired male as he walked over to his bed on the other side of the room, plopping himself down and resting his chin in his hands, elbows rested on his knees as he stared forward with a blank focus on the wall ahead of him.

Etho's thoughts wracked through every memory from the past week or so to how he could have lost his mask, trying to remember who he last interacted with to think if any of them would know. He's interacted with a decent few, like Mumbo, Gem, and especially...

Etho hears a noise come from one of the rooms next over as he was stuck in thought of his missing wanderings. His head perks up at the said noise. There was only ever one other person besides him in the house.

...Joel.

With a steady thought flowing in his head, Etho stands from his bed and walks over to the door, letting it creak open after pushing it gently over and stepping out onto the landing.

He looks left and right, ears perked for more noise to which he follows through the house until a few minutes after, and Etho finds himself standing in a singular open doorway of one of the rooms.

Etho peeks his head past the doorframe, noticing the familiar figure of Joel standing near one of the walls and facing it. On the very wall was a standard size mirror that Joel seemed to be entertaining himself with, laughing at himself as he made jokes and silly voices and even poses or other movements to go with what he said every other sentence.

Etho goes to only take two steps into the room, and with Joel's extraordinary observant antics, from where Joel stood, he turns around speedily, meeting eye to eye with Etho.

He goes to speak to the other male, only to realise that Joel had something of his...

Joel was wearing Etho's mask, the one he's been looking for hours on end for. All this time spent looking around wasted, only to find that the brunette had it to himself all along.

Etho leans against the wall behind him, arms crossed over as a facade of cheekiness crosses over his features, eyes focused solely on the other male. "What you wearing there Joel?" He asks teasingly, nodding his head towards the other male.

"...Nothing." Joel stutters a little, staring wide-eyed at Etho.

"Uh huh... seems like it." A smirk crosses his facial features. "Then mind telling me where you got that mask from?"

A sudden hit of realisation shocks through Joel, one of his hands come up to his face as he attempts horribly at hiding the midnight coloured mask that he was wearing. "Oh, you mean about this? Totally from the shopping district! Not anywhere else." The umber eyed smaller attempts to lie, hoping to metaphorically push Etho away. His voice sounded incredibly muffled, but Etho could still understand him from under it all.

"That's funny," he steps incredibly closer towards Joel, "because the mask you're wearing looks exactly like my one. From every frailed loose string to anything else. Practically down to a tee. Are you sure that's not mine... or are you so obsessed that you're cosplaying as me now?"

Joel stills himself into defensive mode. "I'm not the one obsessed, thank you very much, Etho!" He huffs loudly. Etho couldn't help but chuckle silently. It was easy to rile Joel up when using the right words, and in a way, it was entertaining to the ashen-haired taller. Joel reminded Etho of a young toddler who was in a stroppy mood, whinging until daylight was taken away.

"I don't know about that... everything you do lately around here seems like you are, and the fact that you also decided to move in with me a few months ago doesn't help factor your point there, Joel."

Another huff comes from the male who was talked about.

Etho talked once more, originating back to the previous subject of talking. "Anyways. The mask...?"

"Nope! It is mine!"

"Joel!"

"...Bye!"

"Joel, don't run off! ...Damn it... Joel! Come back!"

[nix-writes-mcyt]

Reunited

Oneshot Tango x Reader Contains: Fluff -----------------------

With a sigh, you rise from your seated position, checking the clock again. 10.03am. Mornings are long these days, and not just because it's summer.

No, that's how it would be anyway. But these mornings drag even more. These mornings are unusually quiet and uneventful. You have no Tango to make them anything else.

He's been gone for so long now. At this point, you've lost track of the weeks, but it's got to be nearing three months now. Perhaps that's passed already.

At first, you kept going as per usual, seeing hermits you'd normally see, getting in on the community projects. Lately you just haven't had the motivation. You've not even ventured outside your base.

You spend much of your time in the cottage you built for Tango and you at the beginning of the season. You've added a few things to the grounds outside since Tango has been gone, but nothing major. You don't want to remove all the Tango from this space.

It's safe to say you miss him. No one can doubt that.

You glance out of the window as you walk past, the giant silhouette of Deep Frost Citadel no longer intimidating. At this point it only brings you sorrow.

You've spent many an hour staring from various windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of the one you love. Hoping he will come home at last. Sometimes you think you see something moving in the distance, but who knows? Maybe you're too far away to tell.

Your communicator beeps quietly in your pocket, it's not an uncommon occurance but it doesn't happen often still. Every now and then someone will check up on you, see if you're okay since you're not venturing out as much any more. That's what you expect this message will be too.

You're pleasantly surprised when it isn't. When the message reads - <Xisuma> I'll be 5 minutes, be ready to leave. Or else ^.^

The threat and uncharacteristically cute face give you mixed messages, but you decide you'd rather be safe than sorry. X isn't very threatening, sure, but while you don't think he'd hurt a fly you've never seen him in that situation to be sure.

So you move away from the window and go sort yourself out for company.

Before you know it there is a pounding at the door, you find yourself pulling on your footwear and trying not to smack your face into the wall as you rush to silence the knocking.

Xisuma looks unimpressed, or so you think behind the mask anyway, pulling you out of the house.

"We'll I'm at least glad I didn't have to drag you out of the house." He says, the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. The emphasis on the word 'you' seems strange, but you decide not to question it.

Xisuma gives you some coordinates, just in case, but tells you to just follow him and it'll be easier. He shoots off into the sky, making flying look easy.

You've not flown in some time. While there is some muscle memory it's certainly rough going. You're a little all over the place for the first five minutes, but you settle back into it fast enough.

The landing isn't particularly smooth, not at all. You almost go flat on your face, but manage to save it last minute and roll.

Xisuma helps you up, not uttering a word or any kind of an expression. Once you're on your feet he immediately sets off walking.

You follow behind him as best you can, relying on the small path. Here the trees are thick, the spruce forest pretty dense. It's beautiful though, the dark green of the leaves glowing from the sunlight above. Moss covers most of the podzol, small white flowers managing to grow over the layer of green.

You haven't been walking for long when Xisuma comes fully back into sight, a clearing up ahead.

Here you're able to see the sky once again, but that's not the most impressive feature. There is grass here, mixed with the moss, on it grows many many flowers of all different colours.

Hidden in the tree line you spot a small building, but see no door for it. Not that it seems you'll be going over there.

X pulls out a picnic blanket, laying it in the center of the clearing. "Care to sit?" He suggests, nodding in approval when you take a seat on the blanket.

Then Xisuma leaves without a word, moving towards the small building. You think of asking him what he's doing but decide not to. That's a man that works in mysterious ways.

Being alone again makes you miss home. You haven't left in so long, not that it isn't nice to, it's just who knows how far you are from Tango.

You can feel the sadness that comes with that thought rising in you. Xisuma disappears and you sigh deeply, choosing to focus on the trees just past the building.

This keeps you occupied until Xisuma reappears. Not that he really looks like himself, the helmet and armour is gone or covered up by long, black robes lined with blue. His eyes glow frosty in the darkness cast by his hood.

This isn't Xisuma at all. This is "Tango?"

"The one and only, my love." He takes a seat in front of you, taking down his hood. His hair is a mess, you can see the dark circles that have formed under his eyes. He looks paler now than he ever has. But it is, unmistakably, Tango.

You forget any sadness, any anger that you haven't seen him sooner. All you feel is happiness in this moment. Especially as he shuffles and pulls you into his side for a hug.

  "I'm sorry it's taken so long to do this. I lost track of time in the dungeon." His voice is sincere, you know he's not lying. You had also lost track of the time in your own home waiting for his return.

"I would have waited forever to see you again." You say in return. Your eyes meet Tango's, his expression is still sad.

"I know you would, as I would for you. But let's be honest, all this time apart hasn't done either of us very good." You nod in agreement. It's not like he's wrong.

The time apart has done a number on you both, it seems silly when you look at it in hindsight. All the problems being apart for so long has caused. You can't change that now, but Tango speaking once again fills you with hope.

"I'm coming home. Every night. No excuses. I even got a Bdubs Offical.' Tango smiles now, a smile you've missed dearly. He waves the clock around, taking the time to point out the Bdubs signature on the back.

You wrap your arms around him, the joy you feel taking over your entire body. Tango holds you just as tight, as if to say he wasn't going to let go again.

You make a mental note to thank Xisuma for bringing you here, for just generally being there for you. It's good to have friends that care about you. It's good to have Tango back If he belongs.

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part V

Word count: 13,626

Warnings: Violence, strong language, mild body horror, blood/injury, death, emotional and physical abuse, manipulation, unreliable narrator, shipping (nothing explicit, just kissing and suggestive implications), grooming (non-sexual)

Summary: Following Tango’s escape from Hels Tek, head scientist Atlas finds himself in hot water. With his sponsors unhappy and his scientists’ faith shaken, the situation quickly spirals into a full-on nose dive, and he suddenly faces losing everything he’s spent decades building. But fate is a funny thing, and after receiving help from an unexpected place, Atlas just might discover that some things do, in fact, happen for a reason.

A/N: WELP I did it again. This oneshot has to get split into two because Atlas’s ego wouldn’t leave enough room for another POV (he needed over 13k to himself, greedy bastard). So, the next one will pick up right after this and will hopefully be out in a timely manner (no promises ofc). Here’s a link to read the previous parts of the au and all the other info!

Note that there are some Helsmits in this, but there are also lots of random OCs/NPCs in the background. They’re not important, they’re just there to help fill up the Hels roster. And ofc, Atlas himself isn’t supposed to be the Hels of anyone we know, he’s purely an OC. Hope y’all enjoy, please reblog if you do! This was a labor of love so it’d really mean a lot <3 - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part V - to the strand, a picnic plan for you and me

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player just woke up to very bad news.

“Drowned?” Dr. Atlas Syn, head scientist of Hels Tek Laboratories, demands furiously as he leaps out of bed. “How could he have possibly drowned?!”

(An addendum: he’s not leaping out of his actual bed. Rather, he sleeps on a 2x2 pad of moss, the softest substitute for wool available. His real bed is hidden deep beneath his feet, within an obsidian safe room that’s fully stocked with armor, weapons, food, and whatever other resources he might need in the event of his untimely demise.

Owning a bed is a prestigious thing. Not all players are well-off or well-connected enough to obtain a bed from the scarce wool merchants in Hels, all of whom guard their rare sheep fiercely. Instead, most players utilize respawn anchors to set their spawns, as the materials required to craft one are far easier to come by than wool.

The only players who are aware of the bed’s existence are Atlas himself and the man who gave it to him, and that’s how Atlas likes to keep it. If certain enemies or rivals of his were to discover his bed, them breaking it is the least of his concerns.

It’s a privilege to own a bed, allowing him to bypass the thousands of blocks of treacherous terrain he’d have to travel if he died, but it’s also a great risk. Setting one’s spawn via bed or anchor doesn’t allow for the same protection as afforded by the default world spawn and its anti-griefing perimeter. Knowing the location of a player’s spawn allows for the deployment of traps- the longest death loop Atlas has ever seen lasted a solid month, and only ended because someone got fed up enough with the constant death messages to free the poor chump.

Anyways, this is all besides the point. Atlas leaps out of ‘bed.’)

“We aren’t sure, sir,” the player cowering in front of him says. Some new intern, Atlas thinks, which is probably why he was the one chosen to inform Atlas of this unpleasant development. “But there appear to be bloodstains on the inside of the farm-”

“Where is he now?” Atlas cuts him off, pulling up his communicator. It takes a bit of scrolling through all the usual random death messages to find it: Tango drowned.

He curses himself for having his notifications silenced. But really, who doesn’t? Death messages are so numerous in Hels, the constant beeping would be intolerable. Not to mention it would be a dead giveaway- pun intended- in any situation that required stealth or discretion.

“We don’t know, sir,” the intern says with a wince.

“How long ago did this happen?”

“We don’t know, sir.”

“Who last checked the respawn anchor?”

“We don’t-”

“Okay, let’s try this,” Atlas says, pinching the bridge of his nose even as a grin splits across his face. “How about you tell me what you do know, and we stop wasting time?”

The intern straightens his back. “The incident was discovered when myself and Drs. Riposte, Ironclad, and Heligan arrived this morning. There’s no evidence of a break-in, everything outside the farm is completely intact. The only damage to the enclosure itself is the chains, they’ve been snapped near the shackles- probably due to respawn. No one was awake when it happened, but the last person to clock out last night was Dr. Clear Cut, at 0200.”

Of course. Atlas isn’t surprised; Clear doesn’t know the meaning of a twelve-hour work day. What’s more surprising is that the mad doctor actually remembered to clock out this time. “Has anyone questioned him yet?” Atlas asks, grabbing his lab coat off its hook.

“No, sir,” the intern says. “But security is fetching him now, they’re bringing him to the farm.”

“Very good.” Atlas gives a short nod, pulling his lab coat on before swiftly exiting the room. The intern jogs to catch up, falling into step beside him. “Assemble the rest of the staff in conference room A1,” Atlas orders. “I’ll be in to speak with them once I’ve finished with Dr. Clear.”

“Yes, sir.”

Atlas abruptly stops walking, whirling around to loom over the intern. “And this probably goes without saying, but I do not want word of this escaping the premises,” he says, his tone dangerously light, a smile through gritted teeth. “Do you understand?”

The intern nods frantically. “Yes sir, Dr. Atlas.”

“Very good.” Atlas turns away. “Thank you, that will be all.”

The intern’s rapid footsteps fade off down the hallway, allowing Atlas to continue alone.

It’s a short walk to the lab. Atlas is once again thankful that he decided to have employee housing built so close to the actual laboratory.

(Every now and then, new hires complain about having to live on the premises, reluctant to leave their own bases behind. But it saves so much time, and he placates them by allowing them to decorate their rooms however they see fit- within reason, of course- and by giving them ample time-off to make trips away from the premises- which he gradually decreases over a matter of months.

Eventually, they accept that they don’t have time for a life outside of Hels Tek, and then things run much more smoothly.)

Atlas comes to a stop in front of the lab’s main entrance, pressing the button that opens the iron doors. He enters into a short hallway that leads to a piston door, casting a quick glance around himself before entering in the combination to open it.

(The laboratory’s design is quite clever, if he does say so himself. All the outer walls of the facility are four blocks thick- the exterior and interior decorative blocks, and then two blocks of cobblestone in the middle. They’re part of an anti-break-in system; an infinite piston tape and cobblestone generator combo that will replace any block that’s mined away, faster than even the best enchanted netherite pickaxe can break them.

Although evidently, all the clever designing in the world cannot account for the stupidity of players. What good is a facility that can’t be broken into if their one prisoner was able to break out? 

Even as he’s thinking about what next steps he should take and how best to minimize the fallout, part of his mind is pondering how they ended up in this situation in the first place, running through rapid-fire scenarios. He’s realized that for Tango to spawn outside of the farm, the respawn anchor must’ve been drained of charge. That’s not something that happens overnight- this is clearly the result of ongoing negligence, and he cringes to think how this might reflect on him personally, as head of Hels Tek.

Ah, but he’s let his train of thought get away from him again. He can worry about these things after he has his property back.)

Atlas’s footsteps are wholly automatic as he makes his way through the lab, towards the chamber where the Tango Tek farm is located. Stopping in front of the door, he fishes a slip of paper out of his lab coat pocket- his ID- and drops it into a dispenser embedded in the wall. The security system reads his paper and then spits it back out, the door swinging open for him.

Atlas steps inside, and the door locks shut behind him.

The room is empty save for three people; two security guards standing on either side of a scientist, hunched over in a chair as he works on a redstone component. His curly mustache is more unkempt than usual, the facial hair positively frayed at its edges. The man must’ve been woken abruptly, for although he’s wearing his lab coat (stained and wrinkled, as always) his shirt is partially unbuttoned and he’s not wearing a tie.

Atlas clears his throat. “Good morning, Dr. Clear.”

“Mornin’,” Clear replies automatically, not even glancing up from the comparator he’s fiddling with. His thick accent is even rougher in the early morning, a slurred drawl that never fails to get on Atlas’s nerves.

Atlas disregards him for a brief moment to stride over to the farm, the small glass enclosure against the opposite wall of the room. As promised, it’s largely intact and untouched- the only differences are the black bloodstains smeared against the glass, the snapped chains hanging from the sides, and the complete and utter absence of a blaze hybrid inside. As expected, the respawn anchor fitted into the wall has gone dark; out of charge.

Atlas turns back to Clear. “You were the last one at the lab this past evening, is that right?” he asks, neatly folding his hands behind his back.

“Right, sure,” Clear mutters absent-mindedly. “Got a lotta work t’do, you know. Ain’t gonna do itself. Gotta be perfect.”

“Of course,” Atlas replies smoothly. Normally he wouldn’t tolerate such inattentiveness, but he’s long since learned to pick his battles with Clear. “Before you left, do you recall if Tango Tek was still functioning properly?”

“Who?” Clear asks, unbothered.

“Tango Tek, the blaze farm,” Atlas emphasizes, managing to keep his tone slow and patient. “Was the blaze hybrid still inside it when you left?”

“Blaze?” Clear frowns, one greasy, redstone-stained hand coming up to twirl his mustache. “No, no, no, I don’t work with blaze,” he chatters, more to himself than anything. “Don’t do a lotta damage, them blaze. I’m more of a TNT-duper myself. World eaters, y’know, that sorta thing-”

“Dr. Clear,” Atlas says calmly, stepping forward, “might I have your undivided attention for a moment?” He reaches out and grabs Clear none-too-gently by the chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze. “I’m asking if you remember seeing the blaze hybrid, Tango Tek, inside his farm before you left the lab last night.”

Finally, finally, clarity sparks in Clear’s bloodshot eyes. “Oh. I suppose he was, yeah,” he says with a shrug.

Atlas leans in closer, close enough to smell the potion of swiftness on Clear’s breath (and thank the universe for that, because otherwise the man would probably be comatose). “Did you see anyone or anything out of the ordinary before you left for the night?”

Clear snorts. “Ordinary. Who decides that, huh?” Just like that, his gaze is clouded again as he starts rambling. “What’s ordinary to one person might be extraordinary to another, y’know. After all, everythin’ is relative, innit?”

Atlas sighs. “Indeed.” Releasing his grip, he steps back.

He never truly suspected that Clear had anything to do with Tango’s escape- the man’s mind is too fragmented to concoct a plot like that- but he’d been hoping Clear would have some sort of useful information for him. Evidently, it was too high of a hope.

“Go prep the flying machines,” he orders. “After I debrief the rest of the staff, I’ll be taking a team over to spawn to correct this little mishap.”

Clear gives a faint nod, already having turned his attention back to his comparator. “Right, sure. Just lemme finish this last-”

“Now please, Dr. Clear,” Atlas says firmly.

Clear heaves a sigh, sliding out of his chair. “Alright, alright…” He straightens his back with a loud pop before immediately reverting to his horribly hunched posture. “Flyin’ machines, right… where, exactly, can I find them?”

Atlas snaps his fingers at the security guards. “Do make sure he gets there, won’t you?”

The two players quickly nod and usher Clear out of the room. Atlas takes one final look at the empty farm before departing.

~*~

It doesn’t take long for Atlas to get everyone caught up to speed.

Hels Tek isn’t as large an operation as one might presume based on their reputation. Their numbers include fifteen scientists (including Clear and himself), ten security guards (including the two currently babysitting Clear), and two interns (for the time being).

All of them gathered in an average-sized conference room during an emergency might’ve been cause for a headache, if not for Atlas’s tight leadership. They await his instructions in stony silence, masking the nerves they must surely be feeling. Once he informs them of the situation, there isn’t a second spared for outrage or disbelief or panic- they simply ask what to do next.

They don’t have a protocol in place for this sort of emergency (an oversight on Atlas’s part, he’ll admit) but every one of his scientists is used to rolling with the punches. He quickly divides them into teams; one to search the entire lab top to bottom in case Tango simply respawned outside the enclosure and has hidden himself somewhere, one to form a perimeter around the premises to steer away any happenstance visitors, and one to accompany Atlas to the world spawn, where Tango most likely ended up after his death.

Atlas takes most of the security force with him as well, because even with flying machines, the journey to world spawn is long and dangerous. Every second spent chugging along through the smoke-filled air feels like an eternity, making Atlas quite aware of the invisible timeline closing down on him.

The longer Tango is free of Hels Tek, the greater the risk of him slipping away forever. And even worse, the greater the chance of Hels Tek’s sponsors catching wind of this disaster.

(There’s one in particular that Atlas shudders to think about discovering his blunder.)

For the most part, their formation of flying machines is left alone. Hels Tek is well known in this area, and has earned its reputation for dealing with troublemakers severely. Every now and then, they do get arrows sent their way, from bold (and stupid) players hidden amongst the landscape. There are also a couple close calls with ghasts, the monsters spawning out of nowhere in a burst of fireballs and demonic screeching. 

But it’s nothing they can’t handle. The security guards make quick work of mob and player alike with their own volley of arrows. Those Power V crossbows pack quite the punch, reminding Atlas how nice it is to have wealthy sponsors.

Which he might lose, if he can’t recapture their blaze farm.

Eventually, the biomes start to give way to the horrendous moth-eaten terrain of the outer spawn chunks. It’s barren as always, with no signs of life amongst the patchwork of holes. Once the actual world spawn is in view, the pristine natural landscape, Atlas signals for the fleet to stop. Flying machines can enter the anti-griefing perimeter around spawn, but if they stall or get stuck for whatever reason, there’s no removing blocks, so they’ll be floating up in the air forever. 

Which isn’t the end of the world, but it’s a meaningless waste of resources that Atlas would prefer to avoid if possible.

Fishing his water bucket out of his inventory, Atlas slides off the side of his flying machine. His stomach lurches as he drops, placing the water down just before he lands to negate any fall damage. Straightening up, he scoops the water back into the bucket and puts it away.

“We go on foot from here,” Atlas announces, as the rest of the search party follows suit. “Keep your eyes peeled, he could be hiding anywhere.”

“Yes, sir!” comes the chorus.

Traveling becomes considerably more difficult at that point, dodging holes every two steps. But soon enough, they reach the start of the spawn radius. Using the stone they’ve brought with them, they stack up to ascend the squat, sheer cliffs left behind by players long ago, digging for blocks the second they were out of the anti-griefing perimeter.

(Hels is ancient. By the time Atlas spawned into existence, the world already looked much like this, and has changed very little in the years since- as best he can tell as someone who seldom visits spawn, anyways.

But he remembers the day he spawned in. He remembers toddling over towards the cliffs on short, unsteady legs and dropping off the side, the painful crack of fall damage, his first damage, rattling through his feet. He remembers a sudden urge overtaking him, an instinct written into his very code, to start digging and gathering resources. And he remembers taking his tiny fists to the nearest block, an oak plank, only to find it’d been left by some other player to plug up a one-block hole that went all the way down to bedrock.

That wasn’t a fun fall.

He had to wonder, why would a player even bother to plug up a single hole in that disaster zone? It wasn’t as if anyone who’d respawned would have wooden planks on them, or a way to gather them, so it must’ve been someone coming to spawn instead of trying to escape from it. And so he’d decided, with all his two minutes of life experience, that it must’ve been done deliberately to trick someone, newly respawned and desperate for resources, into falling down that hole.

Just like he did.

That was also the moment he resolved to never let himself be outsmarted again.)

Atlas hops to the ground within the spawn radius just in time to see a dark shape flying up one of the netherrack mountains surrounding spawn. Before he can blink, it vanishes into the cliffside- probably into a hidden cave.

Well. Atlas had been hoping to find Tango here (even a respawn won’t have been enough to return him to full strength right away so he can’t have gotten far), but perhaps he’s found a witness.

“Fan out around the perimeter,” he says over his shoulder, as the rest of the group pull themselves up onto the level ground. “I think I see someone who might be able to help us out.”

“Yes, sir!” 

Atlas approaches the mountain at a leisurely pace, arms folded behind his back. He comes to a stop at the foot of the cliff and looks up, allowing a wide grin to spread across his face. “Yoo hoo, hello up there!” he calls.

Silence, unsurprisingly.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I just need to ask you a couple questions,” he continues, voice cheery. “I can come to you if you want, we’ve got flying machines. It’d be no trouble at all.”

It’s a very clear threat, shoddily wrapped under the guise of politeness. And it seems to do the trick- a figure slowly creeps over the edge of the cliff, peering down at him.

The player isn’t very imposing; he’s pale and scrawny, practically emaciated, with big, hollow eyes. He’s an avian hybrid of some kind, black wings just barely visible poking over his shoulders. Interesting, but not important at the moment beyond what he can tell Atlas about recent arrivals to spawn.

He doesn’t seem to be wearing any armor, and as such, likely isn’t a spawn camper. Why else a player would hang around spawn, Atlas doesn’t know, but since he fled at their arrival he probably wants to be left alone. That increases the likelihood that he’ll answer Atlas’s questions readily, if only to get rid of them.

“... yes?” comes a soft, but labored, voice.

He sounds quite weak. Atlas’s grin widens. “Do you know if a blaze hybrid respawned here?” he asks. “He would’ve shown in the chat as Tango.”

The player seems to nod- a faint gesture from this distance.

“Wonderful!” Atlas claps his hands together, noting the way the player jolts at the sound. “And did you happen to see which direction he went?”

Slowly, the player lifts one trembling arm to point eastward. “Over… there,” he says, tone wary but seeming genuine. “Haven’t seen… him since…”

Atlas hums, pleased that at least someone is cooperating with him today. “Thank you very much.” He snaps his fingers- immediately, several members of the search party peel off from the group to head east. “Now, have you been at spawn for a while? Do you know how long ago he respawned here?”

The player hesitates. “Not… sure…” It sounds like he’s cringing, afraid of not knowing the answer, so it’s probably not a lie.

“That’s alright,” Atlas assures him, pulling up his communicator. He scrolls through the death messages again when something catches his eye. The first message after Tango’s death; Bravo has joined the game.

The only players that join Hels are children, new-spawns. They can burst into existence at any moment, with no rhyme or reason; sometimes there’ll be ten in a row, and sometimes weeks will go in between. It shouldn’t stand out as unusual… and yet, the names have an odd similarity that won’t leave him alone.

(Already, a part of Atlas’s mind has snatched up the idea like a wolf and ran with it. If the two events are connected- Tango’s death and Bravo’s entrance- then there must be something bigger than random chance going on. If there’s a way for players from other worlds to travel to Hels, and potentially viceversa, then Atlas has to be the first one to know about it.)

“Who’s this Bravo that joined shortly after?” Atlas asks, as casually as he can.

The player’s answer is just as casual, despite the way he sounds as if he’s on death’s door. “Just… a kid.”

“Mm.” Now that Atlas is looking more carefully, he sees an actual message from Bravo, asking for help. That message is promptly followed by several deaths, interspersed amongst the regular deaths of other Hels denizens.

Of course. Just a stupid kid.

(Atlas purges the idea from his mind, embarrassed to have given it any significant thought at all.)

Sighing, Atlas puts his communicator away. “Alright, that will be all. Thank you.” He turns away with a wave, moving to rejoin the search party. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

The player’s response is so faint, Atlas almost misses it. 

“... thanks... you… too...”

~*~

Only minutes later, a new message comes through the chat.

AnimosityGaming starved to death.

Well. That explains a lot.

~*~

They don’t stay around spawn very long.

Since the spawn chunk can’t be altered in any way, there’s no possibility that Tango has made himself a hiding place by digging or placing blocks. So after a quick sweep of the area, they move on to the outlying chunks. Searching through these is a more difficult task than it’d seem, because despite the terrain’s barren appearance, there’s an infinite maze of tunnels underground from years of desperate players trying to safely make it out of spawn.

They split into pairs and fan out, searching for hours on foot until Atlas finally calls in the towel, fed up with bumping his head on the two-high ceilings. After ordering everyone back to the flying machines, they continue their search from the air, flying in concentric circles around spawn. Even this method is limited by the terrain- high mountains and low overhangs from the nether ceiling blocking their paths.

(He should’ve let Clear install TNT-launchers on these things.)

As the day wanes on, Atlas grows increasingly frustrated. Tango shouldn’t have been able to get very far from spawn, not in his condition, unless he asked for help. But Atlas knows the blaze hybrid’s mind quite well, and knows that asking for help is the last thing he’d do.

(It’s the last thing any sensible resident of Hels would do.)

So they should’ve found him by now, or he should’ve had another death. Hels is a dangerous place for anyone, even more so for a very weak creature with absolutely no resources to speak of. After spending his last few months in the farm, Tango should barely be able to walk. And yet somehow, he’s managed to evade them, and death itself.

(Atlas would be impressed if he weren’t so infuriated. Clever devil. He’s always privately thought that Tango would’ve been an excellent Hels Tek scientist, if he weren’t spawned as part blaze.)

As a last resort, Atlas swings by the Arena.

It’s been a while since his last visit- he doesn’t make a habit of it. Too chaotic for his tastes. But he knows its recruiters often pick up cannon fodder from spawn, and they’re especially keen on nabbing any kind of ‘exotic’ player for their fights.

The two recruiters that greet him, a cat hybrid and a large zombie player, heartily assure him they haven’t been by spawn lately. They even take him on a tour through the underground cages, where gladiators of all shapes and sizes await their fates. And sure enough, none of them are Tango.

The recruiters promise to let Atlas know if they see him. However, Atlas doesn’t fail to notice the sly look they give each other when he takes his leave. They’ll almost certainly be out to spawn soon, to try and catch Tango for themselves.

Perfect. Just perfect. He’ll have to have someone keep an eye out at the Arena, in case they actually end up finding Tango in the coming days. Normally, he stays informed on the major businesses of Hels through his various sponsors. But that doesn’t work very well when he needs to be informed of something he’s trying to keep from them.

Wouldn’t that be a bad look, for the blaze farm he’d just shown off as part of his big Phase Two proposal to suddenly appear as a new punching bag at the Arena.

In any case, it’s late into the night before Atlas finally gives up the search. The last actual civilization to check nearby is New Helington, and showing up there would be like signing off on his own death warrant. Besides, if Tango was foolish enough to seek refuge in the city, then Atlas will hear about it anyways, and at that point he’s already doomed.

Their ride back to the lab is spent in stony silence. Atlas can tell everyone is wary of his temper- and certainly, there’ll be a time for that- but right now, he’s too preoccupied with figuring out how to fix this. All he wants to do when he gets back to the lab is down a potion of swiftness and pour over all his collected research and data on Tango, in the hopes of finding a way to track him.

But as soon as Hels Tek comes into view, they’re flagged down by a scientist on the ground.

“Dr. Atlas!” FlySpeck calls, her voice tightly wound with nerves. “There’s someone here to see you, says it’s urgent. I tried to tell him you were out but he won’t leave-”

“Who?” Atlas asks, sliding off the flying machine.

“bXMiner.”

Atlas’s stomach sinks.

Whenever Alisker needs to conduct business, he usually does it through some other underling acting as a go-between. It’s not often he sends his right-hand man bXMiner, and when he does, it’s usually a bad sign.

There’s only one thing that could have prompted the visit. “Where is he?”

FlySpeck casts a wary look over her shoulder. “We put him in the lobby to wait.”

“Thank you, I’ll see him now,” Atlas says curtly, brushing past her.

He walks to the lobby at a speed just shy of running- it simply won’t do to be seen running around in a panic at his own lab, but he knows he shouldn’t keep bX waiting. Not because the man is particularly impatient, but because the longer he’s away from Alisker, the more Alisker’s mood will sour. And Atlas has a nasty feeling Alisker is already quite displeased with him.

(Of course Alisker found out. He has eyes everywhere.)

Atlas sweeps into the lobby with the casual presence of a man with nothing to fear and nothing to hide. “Hello, Mr. bX!” he says warmly, as if greeting an old friend instead of a glorified attack dog.

The man waiting on one of the benches looks over at Atlas with a grin. “Hey, man,” he says nonchalantly, rising to his feet.

He doesn’t quite match Atlas’s height, but he’s certainly the bulkier of the two. Broad shouldered and well-muscled, bX is a formidable force. His face, however, is deceptively pleasant, his teal eyes bright and kind. They match the shimmering diamond chestplate he’s wearing over his smart leather ensemble, as well as the trident strapped across his back.

(Atlas isn’t surprised to see it, despite the weapon’s usefulness being somewhat limited out of water. They love using tridents at the Arena, and it seems bX never gave up the habit.)

“Thank you for your patience,” Atlas says smoothly, coming to a stop in front of bX. “I do hope my staff have been accommodating?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” bX assures him. He gives Atlas a knowing look. “Rough day?”

Atlas manages a polite laugh, despite the implication that his appearance and demeanor are visibly haggard. “You could say that. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

bX tilts his head. “You mean you really don’t know why I’m here?” he asks, a playful hum in his voice. He’s having fun with this, the bastard.

“Well, I have an educated guess,” Atlas allows, with enough amusement in his voice to imply he’s in on the joke rather than being the butt of it. “But I must admit, I’m surprised to hear from Mr. Alisker so soon.”

bX shrugs a shoulder, scratching at his well-groomed beard. “People might not chat in Hels, but we certainly whisper.”

Atlas sucks in a breath through his smile. “Indeed.”

He’d known there was a high probability that someone on his staff was secretly reporting to Alisker. After all, Atlas hired most of his security force through him. But he’d been hoping they’d developed enough respect for him to trust in his abilities, and give him time to correct the problem before bringing it to Alisker’s attention.

Apparently not.

(One of these days, his hubris will be the death of him.)

Atlas spreads his hands. “I can assure you, Mr. bX, I have a perfectly reasonable explanation-”

“Save it.” bX waves him off, somehow still managing to seem friendly. As if he truly doesn’t want Atlas to waste his breath. “Papa Al wants to talk to you, in person.”

“Ah.” Atlas folds his hands behind his back, his smile sharpening. “You know, if it was that urgent, he could’ve simply sent me a message. Would’ve saved you the trip. I was just in the area, in fact, paying a visit to the Arena.”

If the pointed mention has struck a nerve with bX, he doesn’t show it. “He just wanted to make sure you got there safely,” he says easily. “You know how dangerous traveling can be on your own.”

(Translation: Alisker didn’t trust that Atlas would come voluntarily.)

“Indeed,” Atlas says, masking his displeasure. “Very well, then. Shall we take my flying machine?”

“Ah, I was hoping you’d offer,” bX chuckles. “It’s not an easy journey to make on foot.”

“No,” Atlas sighs, turning to head back outside, “no, it’s not.”

~*~

If the purpose of having bX fetch Atlas was to make him sweat, it’s certainly working.

The journey to New Helington is always long and arduous, but it’s far more nerve-wracking in bX’s presence. He spends the time making casual small talk and launching into the occasional story, as if their relationship is perfectly amiable. And even worse, he’s resistant to all of Atlas’s attempts to unbalance him, letting every snide remark and underhanded compliment glide off his back like water. As always, his demeanor is perfectly unflappable, as if the man is physically incapable of being anything but totally relaxed and jovial.

Atlas doesn’t trust it. He’s seen what bX is capable of. The front he presents only means that he’s better at covering up his true emotions, thoughts, and desires than most- which makes him even more dangerous.

(Because it’s not like anyone could truly be that content all the time. True happiness in Hels is like sunlight; unattainable, and thus supplemented by other cheaper means.)

Eventually, New Helington’s skyline rises in the distance. The city was around long before Alisker, the remnant of early civilizations that were griefed faster than they could be built, but it’s only been able to flourish under his iron fist and watchful eyes. They’ve seen great expansion in the last few years and will likely continue to do so at an ever-increasing rate. Atlas wouldn’t be surprised if the city ended up encroaching on the outer spawn chunks someday, if Alisker can be bothered to cover up the eyesore that is its current terrain.

“You can park here,” bX calls above the chugging of the sticky pistons as they approach one of the city’s gates.

Atlas leans forward to place the stopper block, bringing them to an immediate halt. “Lead the way,” he says wryly, as if he didn’t just drive himself to his own execution.

bX hops to the ground, waving at the player standing guard at the gate. “Hey man,” he calls as they approach, “keep an eye on this, will you? We’ve got business with Papa Al, shouldn’t take long.”

The player nods and steps aside, pulling a lever on the wall. The gate- a massive piston door- opens up to admit them into the city. Atlas follows bX through, pistons churning as the gate seals behind them with echoing finality.

No matter how many times Atlas visits New Helington, it’s a jarring adjustment.

Flashing redstone lamps and blocks of glowstone adorn the front of nearly every building, which are packed together in a haphazard array. The air is thick with steam and filled with sound- voices shouting and screaming, hydraulics hissing and pounding, metal clashing and screeching. There’s activity everywhere he looks; a player rushing out of a bar as bottles are thrown after him, a player tumbling off a roof and crashing through the awning of a market stand, a player chasing a little horde of kids while screaming about pickpocketing.

Truly, a brilliant reminder of why there are so few thriving civilizations in Hels. Most Hels players are unpleasant on any given day, but they’re even more unpalatable in large numbers.

The cobblestone streets are crowded, players packed together as densely as a piglin swarm. Atlas walks closely next to bX so as to decrease the likelihood of being hassled by anyone. bX is well known here- the crowd parts for them like fish in a stream.

Soon enough, the buildings fall away and the road opens up into a sort of courtyard, paved with polished diorite and framed by lush shrubbery (as lush as it can be in this biome, anyways). Looming on top of the hill in the distance, beyond the tall iron gates, is a lavish mansion made almost entirely out of quartz.

(Seems that Alisker has made good use of the piglin bartering farm Atlas had installed for him. Not that the man will likely recall that particular favor during this meeting.)

bX approaches the gate first, nodding at the two players standing guard. “Hey guys,” he greets them pleasantly. “Got a friend here to see Papa Al.”

The guards exchange a knowing look. “Sure thing, sir,” one of them says, stepping aside to open the gate for them.

Atlas gives them a pointed grin as he passes; he refuses to show even the slightest amount of trepidation lest they realize their assumptions were correct. For all they know, he could be here on perfectly pleasant business, or even a social call.

(Yeah, right.)

The paved path to the front doors slopes gently upwards as it curves this way and that, taking a rather lackadaisical route through the garden. If Atlas were here under different circumstances, he might spare a second to appreciate the landscaping. Not because he has any particular interest in building aesthetics, but because of what it represents. To own so much excess land in a crowded city like New Helington that serves no purpose except to look pretty is quite the power play.

There are no guards at the front doors, which open up into a grand entry chamber reminiscent of a lobby. In the middle of the room, a receptionist sits within the center of a circular desk. She straightens up at their arrival, notices bX, relaxes, notices Atlas, quirks a brow, and then goes right back to her paperwork, an amused smile playing on her lips.

Atlas is certain they’ll all be talking about his visit today, and the thought only sours his mood even further. He’s invested a great deal of time and effort into crafting his reputation as the intelligent, business-savvy, and ruthless head of Hels Tek; he’s not happy about being treated like a misbehaving child.

bX wastes no time leading Atlas to an elevator at the side of the lobby. After bX spins the floor selecting key in its item frame a few times, the redstone lamp in the wall lights up, and the pistons beneath their feet start to churn. The elevator jolts at the movement, starting to ascend in jerky lurches.

(It sounds a lot like the flying machines Atlas has been listening to all day and night. He’s really starting to hate that sound.)

It doesn’t take long for them to reach their floor. The elevator grows still and silent, the redstone lamp going dark, and opens up into a long hallway with a single door at the end.

bX gives Atlas a sideways glance, mouth quirked into a smile. “Three guesses as to what’s behind Door Number One.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Atlas huffs.

“Alright, alright,” bX chuckles, stepping out of the elevator. He leads the way down the hall, stopping in front of the door and rapping his fist against it.

“Hollo?” comes a distinctive voice from inside. “Who isss it?”

“Honey, I’m home,” bX drawls, his voice lighting up with mirth.

There’s a gasp. “bX! That you, sweet face? Come in!”

bX opens the door, and the two of them step inside.

Atlas has been inside Alisker’s office only a few times before- they rarely conduct business in person- but it’s clearly seen some renovations since then. Most of the walls are quartz, a mixture of smooth and polished, while the back wall is made of glass. It provides an excellent view over the lush backyard gardens of the gated property. And to top it all off, the floor is paved entirely with solid diamond blocks.

(Tacky, sure, but also an undisputable show of wealth.)

The man sitting at the desk is just as flashy. He wears a bright teal suit, dyed the exact shade of diamond, and is wearing several of the little stones on his fingers. His actual features, however, are more plain; short brown hair that’s neatly combed back and wide brown eyes set in a somewhat soft, rounded face. The only thing unusual about him are the dozens of thin lines that haphazardly zig-zag across every inch of his face, like paper cuts.

(Atlas doesn’t let himself stare; Alisker loves making people uncomfortable.)

bX waves Atlas inside before closing the door behind them and crossing over to the desk. “Sorry it took so long,” he says ruefully.

“Spank you, queenie,” Alisker hums, tilting his head up to kiss bX on the cheek.

(Atlas isn’t fooled by the tenderness of the gesture; it’s nothing more than a display of power. Showing outright affection to someone like that plainly exposes a weak spot, like baring your throat to a knife. Alisker is saying, in no uncertain terms, that this is his house, and he can do whatever he damn well pleases with no fear of retribution.)

bX moves away to stand in front of the door. Alisker now turns to Atlas, a broad grin splitting across his face. “Doc-tor Sinny!” he croons. “It’s been sooo long since I’ve seen dat beautiful face. Come in, come in! Just sit back, and relax.”

Atlas sits down in the solitary chair before Alisker’s desk, offering a polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Alisker-”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Alisker tsks, giving him a bemused look. “How many times I told you? Call me Papa Al.”

Ugh. “Papa Al,” Atlas corrects himself begrudgingly, his smile strained. “I assure you, I can explain-”

“No need,” Alisker says loftily. He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk. “Look into my eyes, and nufin’ but my eyes.”

Atlas has already prepared himself, but his stomach still jolts when the rest of Alisker’s eyes open up. Every line on his face peels open into a pair of lids, behind which an eye peers out. They’re not symmetrical in size, color, location, or orientation- it’s as if someone’s scooped a bucketful of mismatched eyes out of a bin and crammed them into Alisker’s face at random, wherever they’d fit. His forehead, the bridge of his nose, cheeks, jawline, chin- they all twitch and blink and roll completely out of sync, as if trying to look everywhere at once.

But Atlas has seen all this before, and manages to keep his gaze centered on Alisker’s main eyes, the only two located where eyes are normally found.

“I already know alllll about wha’ happened, mhmm,” Alisker says emphatically, nodding his head. His various eyes roll around in multiple directions at the movement. “I must admit, I- I was shocked- no, I was hurt, dat you didn’t tell me yourself. What’s dat about?”

Atlas inclines his head. “I do apologize for the secrecy,” he says mildly, “but I can assure you, this is just a minor setback. I didn’t see the need to bother you with this when I knew we’d have him back soon enough-”

“But you don’t,” Alisker interrupts pointedly. “How long it’s been, a day and a hoff? Two? Almost two days since you lost the blazey farm, and I gotta say, I’m not- I’m not happy.” Absent-mindedly, he scratches at his cheek- the three eyeballs crammed into the flesh there quickly squeeze shut against his fingertips. “I wouldn’t have been mad if you’d just told me, you know.”

That’s a blatant lie, Atlas knows. He feels himself bristle. “I was just-”

“I gotta know dese things, Atlas!” Alisker interrupts, his tone chiding- like he’s scolding a child. Some of his eyes are looking at each other, as if exchanging a private glance. “Dat’s my investment at stake!”

Atlas talks a breath, centering himself. “You know I appreciate your investment in Hels Tek,” he begins smoothly, spreading his hands, “and I fully intend to deliver. But as inconvenient as this development was, we don’t need him anymore.” His lips split into a winning smile. “We have virtually infinite blaze rods stored up, absolutely no problem there, and I feel as though we’ve more than proven the concept of hybrid powered farms to be a success. We can still proceed with Phase Two-”

“Oh, can we?” Alisker asks in mock surprise, cocking his head to the side. Several of his eyes are looking Atlas up and down, scanning so intently it makes his skin crawl. “You really fink I’m gonna lend you even more of my guys and my pwecious resources so you can go catch more mob hybrids to lose? If you can’t even keep ahold a one, how am I supposed ta trust you wif a whole factory, hm?” 

Keep it together. “I understand your trepidation, I do,” Atlas says calmly. “Look, we’re both businessmen. Let’s just discuss this rationally. You’ve known me a long time, I’ve proven myself to you-”

“You’ve proven dat you can’t be trusted,” Alisker snaps, finally letting some heat into his voice. “I spent all dese years funding your research, supplying your security guys, providing you wif all da information you need to be a success, the very bed you sleep on, and dis is how you repay me?”

(Atlas could point out he doesn’t actually sleep on the bed Alisker gifted him, but that information doesn’t seem pertinent at the moment.)

“I don’t- I don’t love it, Atlas,” Alisker continues, his tone grave. His eyes are glaring now, all narrow slits of pupils. “And right now, I don’t love your face.”

Atlas’s stomach drops. “Papa Al, please-”

“You were nufin’ when I found you,” Alisker says darkly, leaning back in his chair. “And if you’ve forgotten, then bX over here will remind you.”

He snaps his fingers.

bX suddenly appears next to Atlas. He doesn’t fight as bX grabs him by the front of his shirt, heaving him out of the chair until their faces are only inches apart, close enough for Atlas to smell the saltwater that always seems to hang off bX’s breath despite them being thousands of blocks away from the nearest ocean.

“Nothin’ personal,” bX chuckles before throwing Atlas against the wall.

The blow shudders through Atlas’s skull, knocking his shades clean off. He manages to stay on his feet, clutching his head and straightening up just in time to see the first punch swing towards his face.

He retreats into his mind right before the impact.

(This is probably how bX manages to stay so collected, Atlas thinks to himself, observing with detached interest while his body is beaten. bX gets to let out all his frustrations on whatever unfortunate player Alisker sics him on that day. It’s something Atlas can relate to, somewhat. After all, there are times where he has to use a little force of his own to keep his staff in line and remind them who’s in charge- because some of them still only respond to violence, the brutish law of beasts.

But he can never let himself go this far. If he did, he’d lose their faith completely. Why would they stay with him if Hels Tek wasn’t better- more civil, more orderly- than the alternative, the lawless wasteland of Hels?

Besides, he hates to admit to himself how good it feels to use violence, so he avoids it when he can. He prefers to use the more elegant method of psychological torture to break a spirit. There’s beauty in laying a trap like that, in spinning delicate spiderwebs of lies and manipulation until his victim is so thoroughly ensnared they can’t even think to fight back. It works like a charm- most of the time, that is- and it’s far less messy.

Of course, that’s not to say Alisker’s methods are ineffective. Atlas has been dreading this meeting for very good reason.)

He isn’t sure how much time passes before the beating is over. When he comes back to himself, he’s on the floor, curled onto his side. One of his eyes won’t open all the way, pain radiating through his skull. It’s only dimmed by the pain pulsing through his chest and stomach- he’ll likely have some boot-shaped bruises come morning.

He can taste blood from a split lip, smeared against his teeth- he runs his tongue along them just to check he hasn’t lost any, because those don’t always respawn.

Another small mercy; once the room stops spinning, Atlas sees his shades lying on the floor a few feet away, without so much as a crack in the lenses. Taking a slow, deep breath, he pushes himself upright- and grits his teeth against the wave of nausea that crashes over him.

(Any hope of leaving with his dignity intact has been utterly destroyed, but at the very least, he’d like to not lose his lunch all over Alisker’s diamond floor.)

Atlas can’t know for sure without checking his communicator, but he’s fairly certain he must only have one or two hearts of health left. Carefully, he reaches for his shades, placing them back on his face before pulling himself to his feet.

bX is on the other side of the desk, hands braced on it as he leans over to whisper something in Alisker’s ear, which makes him chuckle. His extra eyes have closed once more, leaving just the two normal ones eyeing Atlas as he stands, one brow quirked.

“Well?” Alisker prompts, almost sounding bored.

Atlas chokes back his anger. “Message received,” he breathes, grinning despite the sharp pain in his lip. “It was a mistake I won’t be making again.”

Alisker snorts. “If you even get da chonce…” Seemingly satisfied, he turns away from Atlas and runs a hand up bX’s arm, letting it rest at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t even look over as he adds, “I trust you can find your own way out?”

(What was it that Atlas called bX, an attack dog? More like a glorified lap dog.)

“Of course,” Atlas says shortly, heading for the door just as bX leans down to meet Alisker’s lips. “Good day, gentlemen.”

It’s humiliating, to take his own leave from the mansion in such a sorry state. He thinks it almost would’ve been less humiliating if Alisker had him dragged and thrown out, instead of forcing him to leave with his tail tucked between his legs.

He briefly debates taking a short walk off a tall building to respawn his injuries away, and to save himself the trip back to the lab, but having the death against him would be even more of a bruise to his pride.

And he’ll be damned if he lets them keep his flying machine.

~*~

After a long flight back home, Atlas is greeted with even more bad news.

Four of his security guards have quit. The cowards couldn’t even stick around to hand over their resignations in person. Sensing the start of a worrying trend, Atlas quickly assembles the rest of the staff for a meeting.

(Normally he’d give it a few days for his injuries to heal, but this is important. Besides, it’s not like they couldn’t guess what happened. A visit to Alisker is never a good thing.)

Atlas explains that yes, their chief sponsor is informed of the Tango situation, and yes, he’s quite unhappy about it. But he also explains that this is just a little snag, and that efforts to recapture Tango will begin anew very soon. In the meantime, he expects business to proceed as usual; they have plenty of other projects that require attention, and all reports are due at their normal times.

That refocuses some of the heavily work-driven scientists. But over the next couple days, there’s still far too much gossip and speculation for his liking.

And at the end of the week, three more guards resign.

~*~

“You’d better have a good reason for interrupting me,” Atlas says without looking up.

He’s given his staff strict instructions not to bother him. It’s no easy task, going through all their accumulated knowledge on Tango in the search of something that might help them track the hybrid down. All that’s come of it thus far were the coordinates of Tango’s starter base, which had turned up empty. It’d been griefed years ago, with no signs of life or recent activity. Tango probably doesn’t even remember where it is, but Atlas had the whole place trapped just in case.

The player standing in the doorway of Atlas’s office sucks in a breath through his teeth, like a wince. “Sorry, sir. It’s just, uh- well, I just need to-”

“What is it?” Atlas snaps, finally looking up. It’s the intern- no surprise there.

The intern gulps and holds out a piece of paper. “Dr. Ironclad resigned.”

Atlas blinks. Slowly, he rises from his desk and takes the paper. Quickly reading it, he shoves down the violent collision of emotions rising up inside him and drops the paper into the little waste bin beside his desk.

“Well congratulations, doctor,” he says simply, turning away. “You’ve just been promoted.” 

The intern makes a disbelieving squeaking noise. “Oh! Oh wow, sir! Th- thank you, sir! I- I promise, I won’t let you down-”

“You can go now,” Atlas says dryly.

“Yes sir, right away, sir!”

~*~

The intern-turned-doctor only lasts two days before he flees in the middle of the night.

~*~

Atlas’s communicator beeps.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> I heard that old al pulled the plug on HT. True?

<You whispered to InstinctEV> Not in the slightest. If you must know, the terms of Alisker’s sponsorship deal with Hels Tek have become complicated, but the deal is still very much intact. The details beyond that are confidential.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> interesting. You know, we’re always hiring at iRaid… 

<You whispered to InstinctEV> Respectfully, fuck off.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> :P

~*~

Despite Atlas’s best efforts, word spreads quickly.

Soon enough, the rest of Hels Tek’s sponsors are at the door, demanding to know about the status of Phase Two. Atlas does his best to assuage their concerns, but they insist on seeing the farm.

And from there, things go rather poorly.

Atlas’s sales pitch, insisting that Tango is not a necessary component in the Phase Two expansion, isn’t well received. By the end of the visit, two sponsors have walked out on the company. He does manage to convince the remainders to give him some time, but they make it quite clear that the terms of their investment lie entirely on Tango’s swift return.

As soon as the sponsors leave, Atlas tears through their research on Tango with renewed urgency. But aside from observations about blaze hybrid behavior and habits- which they’ve altered by pure virtue of scientific experimentation and thus cannot rely upon to be constant- there’s nothing they can use to locate him.

They’ll have to do this the old fashioned-way.

~*~

Over the next few months, Atlas sends out several more search expeditions- but all to no avail. He finally gives up when the last expedition doesn’t return; three more scientists run off with the last of his security team to seek employment elsewhere.

There’s nothing else to be done. He has to accept that Tango must’ve slipped past them, escaping to the wilds of Hels. The hybrid is probably long gone, hundreds of thousands of blocks away.

It’s either that, or else…

(There are whispers, sometimes, of players vanishing from Hels. Not dying, but well and truly vanishing without a trace, never to appear again, not even in chat. Atlas knows there are worlds beyond Hels- he’s an analytical purist at heart, and he knows Patho’s deduction is sound. He’s worked over that theorem enough times himself to nearly have it memorized.

But he’s had some of the best scientists in Hels attempting to construct a working portal for the better part of two decades now. If it was possible, they would’ve done it already.)

No, no, he’s being ridiculous. There’s nothing mysterious or otherworldly happening here, just a sneaky blaze hybrid that’s managed to evade him. All Atlas can do now is keep an ear to the ground and an eye on the chat, waiting for Tango to slip up and expose himself.

(It’s a hard pill to swallow. Atlas would greatly prefer if something mysterious and otherworldly was happening here.) 

He’d send a whisper to Tango, just to confirm that the hybrid still exists somewhere in Hels and put those ridiculous fears to bed, but they took Tango’s communicator from him a long time ago; it’s still collecting dust on a shelf in Atlas’s office, unused but fully-functional.

Atlas briefly thought it could be of use; communicators are unique items that spawn into existence with their player, so he hoped there might be a link to Tango buried within its data. But the data analysis he ran came up dry. He could call in a specialist to have a look at it, but those contacts operate through Alisker, and he certainly won’t be doing Atlas any favors.

Nevermind that. The next time Tango dies, his name will appear in the chat whether he has a communicator of his own or not.

Atlas just has to be patient.

(Hels Tek’s sponsors, it seems, do not share the same sentiment.)

~*~

“- such a big fucking deal?”

“I can’t work in these conditions!”

Atlas quickens his pace down the hallway towards the sound of shouting. Tensions have been rising among his staff since another one of their sponsors pulled out a couple days ago, and he’s had to break up several squabbles already-

“You don’t work at all! All you do is stand around complaining-”

“Hybrid farming is my life’s work, you asshole-”

“And what’s it amounted to, huh?”

Atlas rounds the corner just in time to see Riposte tackle Malvin to the ground. The scuffle between the two scientists quickly turns bloody- Riposte’s fingernails rake across Malvin’s face, who retaliates by biting down on the meat of Riposte’s thumb. Diving into the fray, Atlas wrenches Riposte off the other man, throwing him against the wall.

“Dr. Riposte!” Atlas barks. “Get ahold of yourself!”

Riposte is glaring daggers, but makes no move to break free of Atlas’s hold. “He started it-”

“Oh, fuck off!” Malvin snarls from behind them.

“That’s enough!” Atlas can feel his own temper coming to a boil. “Both of you! This behavior is not acceptable at Hels Tek.”

“Yeah?” Riposte pushes Atlas off him and stalks down the hall, shouting over his shoulder, “Well, I quit!”

“Good riddance!” Malvin shouts back.

It takes all of Atlas’s self control not to whirl around and kick him.

~*~

On the first anniversary of Tango’s escape, bXMiner drops by Hels Tek.

“Mr. bX,” Atlas greets him with a smile, stepping aside to let him in. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Been a while since we’ve heard from you,” bX hums, clearly not in the mood for small talk. “Papa Al sent me to check in.”

Atlas inclines his head. “Well, I hate to disappoint,” he says, trying to sound sincere, “but if I’d made any progress you would’ve already been informed.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” bX says, shaking his head.

Atlas’s grin is so tight he might just crack his teeth. “I do hope Mr. Alisker doesn’t see the need to discuss the matter in person?”

“Oh no, no,” bX laughs, cracking his knuckles. “He just told me to give you a message.”

Atlas sighs. “Very well.”

Gingerly, he takes his shades off, folds them, and sets them on his desk.

bX seems amused by that. “Again, nothing personal,” he says, winding up for the first punch.

Again, Atlas doesn’t fight. There’s no point; Alisker is relentless and if it wasn’t bX, it’d be any number of vicious goons sent after him. Might as well just get it over with and then get back to work, so it never has to happen again.

(Atlas doesn’t know it at the time, of course, but this soon becomes a yearly tradition.)

~*~

Time passes. Still no news of Tango.

Nothing in the chat, nothing at the Arena, nothing in the city.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

~*~

On one unassuming day, Atlas is pouring over his files on Tango for what must be the fiftieth time when three unfamiliar players burst into his office, equipped with swords.

“What’s the code to your vault?” the player in the middle demands.

Atlas stares blankly at the players. Hels Tek is being raided, now. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Security has admittedly taken a steep dive, considering they no longer have any security guards employed and are only eleven scientists strong, but he didn’t think players would be bold enough to actually attempt a raid-

“Hey!” a second player shouts, raising her blade. “We’re talking to you, poindexter!”

Atlas sighs. “Very well. I know I have it written down somewhere,” he says, reaching for the loaded crossbow stashed in an item frame beneath his desk.

~*~

biaxialcloud78 was shot by Atlas Syn

Hoaxboat was shot by Atlas Syn

Ballet Bob was shot by Atlas Syn

~*~

Their villagers were slaughtered in the raid, of course, bringing the iron farm to a screeching halt. Hels Tek has a villager farm in reserve, of course, hidden deep beneath the facility. But of course, no one is willing to fetch the replacement villagers and undertake the arduous process of wrangling them several floors up into the iron farm. Atlas would assign the task to someone himself, but of course, he’s too preoccupied with his own work to bother.

So iron production halts, and scientists start running out of materials, and by the end of the week, Heligan and FlySpeck have quit.

Of course.

~*~

“Oi, Atlas,” Clear huffs, poking his head into Atlas’s office, “could’ya tell Mal to quit nabbin’ all me spare pistons?”

Atlas can’t even bring himself to be irritated. “Dr. Malvin left three weeks ago, Dr. Clear.”

“Oh.” Clear blinks. “Alright. Can I ‘ave some more pistons, then?”

“No,” Atlas says, rising to his feet, “no, you cannot. Do you know why that is, Dr. Clear?”

Clear frowns at him. “What, you gettin’ stingy on us alluva sudden?”

Atlas feels himself smile entirely without humor. “Us? When’s the last time you looked around yourself, Dr. Clear?” he asks. “All that’s left of Hels Tek is you, me, and four other people. Our sponsors are dropping like bats and we’re still no closer to recapturing Tango than we were the day we lost him! Do you even realize how many years have passed without a single whisper of his existence?”

Clear, as usual, seems entirely unfazed by Atlas’s tone. “Well, if you ask me, I don’t see why losin’ a blaze farm is such a problem,” he huffs, absently drumming his greasy fingers along Atlas’s doorframe. “Ain’t we got other things to work on?”

“Oh, believe me,” Atlas snarks, “I’d be perfectly happy to move forward with Phase Two.”

“So why don’t ‘cha, then?” Clear asks plainly.

“Because our sponsors, Dr. Clear, don’t share the same opinion.” Atlas folds his arms behind his back, walking around the desk. “They require Tango Tek in working order as proof of concept before they’ll fund my expedition, and an effort of this scale cannot be orchestrated on empty pockets.”

“Sponsors,” Clear scoffs, as if he’s only heard every other word Atlas said. “Bunch’a ninnies, the lot of ‘em. What’s a sponsor know ‘bout redstone anyhow?”

Atlas exhales slowly. “In case you haven’t noticed,” he says, “redstone endeavors of this caliber don’t have the luxury of being entirely unattached from politics and personal agendas. No one will fund science for science’s sake.”

Clear shrugs. “Then we’ll do it ourselves.”

Atlas rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

“We’ve got most the infrastructure in place already, ain’t we?” Clear continues, now twirling his mustache.

Atlas knits his brows together. “Infrastructure is useless without the manpower to utilize it.”

“Then get some manpower.”

“I already told you, our sponsors-”

“If I ain’t mistaken, Hels Tek didn’t ‘ave any sponsors when I joined up.” The look Clear gives him is surprisingly lucid, framed by hard determination- a shadow of the man Atlas knew so many years ago. “Just you, standin’ there with your trim black coat an’ a grin that said you’d ‘ave all of Hels in your pocket someday, an’ I believed it.”

Atlas is silent for a moment. “Is that so?”

Clear inclines his head. “I’m still ‘ere, ain’t I?”

“I suppose you are,” Atlas says quietly. “Thank you, Dr. Clear.”

“Sure.” Clear glances away, his expression quickly clouding again. “Glad to help. Now, about them pistons-”

“Prepare a flying machine, if you please,” Atlas says, turning back to his desk.

“Oh,” Clear says, taken aback. “Oh, alrigh’ then. Fine, sure, not like I’ve got me own work to do…” he mutters to himself, starting down the hallway.

Atlas quickly starts packing. Aside from the essentials, he won’t need much. A stack of business cards, his blueprint for the Phase Two factory, and the abstract of Riposte’s thesis on hybrid farming (which is now the intellectual property of Hels Tek, of course). The sales pitch is still as fresh in his mind as the day he wrote it, all those years ago. 

He’ll start with the cities. New Helington is off the table but while it may be the largest and most centrally located, there are plenty others he knows of. And if that fails, he has no problem poaching talent from other redstone communities and corporations. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time-

Clear pokes his head back into Atlas’s office.

“Uh, flyin’ machines are… where, exactly?”

~*~

Atlas’s first recruitment tour is a smashing success.

Six new redstoners to join the staff, with several more on the line and likely to join soon. Since security is still a work in progress, he ensures that every one of them is well-armed and fully capable of defending themselves. Once he has them settled in, he tasks them with whipping all the farms back into working order.

(In the years after Hels Tek’s mass exodus, several more farms have broken in addition to the iron farm, falling victim to glitches and overflow and lack of maintenance. The only reason Atlas didn’t realize this sooner was because he hadn’t had enough scientists to complain about the lack of resources.)

The feat gets accomplished in record time, as each new hire is determined to prove their mettle to him and stand out from the pack. Resources start flowing in, and crafting begins shortly thereafter. Soon, their storage system is well-stocked with all the redstone essentials.

It’s not a completely smooth transition, of course. Many of them have heard rumors about the decline of Hels Tek and there are questions about the empty blaze farm, which Atlas does his best to deflect. There are squabbles between the new hires and the old staff, squabbles about which office spaces and dwelling chambers go to who, and squabbles about what projects to work on next. It doesn’t help that the only scientists who stayed from the old payroll, including Clear, are the most eccentric and stubborn ones he ever hired.

In the end, Atlas assigns the new scientists to ongoing projects based on the skills and experience listed in their resumes, under the supervision of the old scientists (who he finds quite like being called ‘supervisors’) and with the promise that success will award them the chance to manage their own projects. That makes everyone happy, and Hels Tek sees a sudden surge in productivity, the likes of which Atlas hasn’t seen since before Tango escaped.

After two months, when Atlas feels that all the little snags that come with change have been ironed out and things are now running smoothly, he starts looking for new sponsors. He sends whispers out to a long list of his former sponsors, past and current clients, and affluent business moguls, announcing Hels Teks’ grand reopening.

Most of his whispers go unanswered- which isn’t a surprise, considering he doesn’t have Alisker’s name behind him (because although Alisker hasn’t formally revoked his sponsorship and still sends his monthly stipends, he’s no longer conducting business on Hels Tek’s behalf).

But some of them don’t. Some of them get interested responses, and with a little back-and-forth, Atlas is able to set up a couple facility tours. Once those go off without a hitch, the money starts pouring in.

And with it comes all the influence and notoriety that he once enjoyed; the peak of a mountain he feared he’d never climb again. He’s able to hire decent security (who are only interested in money, unlike the scientists that can be won over on the merit of redstone alone). The employee housing gets expanded, as does the facility itself. Projects are completed and approved for sale at a tremendous rate. Soon enough, even the Arena is sporting Hels Tek brand piston doors.

But even so, Atlas isn’t completely satisfied. That empty blaze farm burns at the back of his mind. And despite his recent progress, Phase Two still feels like a far-off dream at this stage, well out of reach- just like the hybrid who has all but vanished off the face of Hels.

(He still checks chat every day, just in case.)

~*~

<InstinctEV whispered to you> There’s a new redstoner settin up shop near the eastern wastes, seems big into farms. just so you know…

<You whispered to InstinctEV> And why, pray tell, did you decide to share this information with me?

<InstinctEV whispered to you> I tried to hire him and he told me to piss off, figured I’d let you take a crack at it.

<You whispered to InstinctEV> How uncharacteristically generous of you. What’s the catch?

<InstinctEV whispered to you> He seems skittish around monsters but you tend to only hire normies anyway. plus it’s only fair, I got five new scientists out of HT’s nose dive and i dont like owing anyone.

<You whispered to InstinctEV> I’d hardly call that a debt.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> That mean you don’t want the coords?

…

…

…

<You whispered to InstinctEV> Send them.

~*~

Atlas finally brings the flying machine to a halt, dropping to the ground.

It was a painfully long trip. Hels Tek is located a couple thousand blocks to the west of spawn as it is, and the eastern waste itself is several thousands more blocks still. It’s quite a remote place for a redstoner to settle, and the netherrack landscape is barren, bordered by an insurmountable lava ocean almost entirely spanned by a soul valley biome. Ghasts spawn all the time, taking out anyone stupid or desperate enough to try crossing or building near it- anyone hoping to head east will have to go around it, adding weeks and weeks of travel.

Even now, Atlas is keeping his distance from the glowing orange horizon as he starts towards the coordinates Instinct gave him. Dying now would almost guarantee he gives up on the idea altogether, because he can’t be bothered to make such a long trip again.

He really hopes whoever this mystery redstoner turns out to be is worth it.

There, in the distance; a modest blackstone structure about two stories high, fenced in by thick walls. Luckily, it’s far enough away from the soul valley that no ghasts are spawning. Atlas thinks he might be able to see the top of a farm peeking above the fence, though he can’t say for certain what kind.

Everything is still and quiet as Atlas strolls up to the front gate. Posted against the wall is a birch sign with ‘NO TRESPASSING, KEEP OUT’ scrawled on it. And on the other side, a second one that says ‘NO SOLICITORS, GO AWAY’.

Chuckling to himself, Atlas pushes the gate open and walks inside.

The yard is simple, but meticulously landscaped. Over on one side is the farm he saw on his way in, which he can now identify as an automatic bamboo farm. Not much on its own, but bamboo is one of the most rapidly acquired fuel sources; an essential piece of infrastructure for any large scale smelting. That shows good foresight, and at least a basic understanding of redstone mechanics.

Perhaps this trip won’t be a bust, after all.

Atlas comes to a stop at the front door of the building. It’s an iron door, with no visible button or other unlocking mechanism. He suspects it must be hooked up to a hidden hopper that reads a specific item, a ‘key’, before permitting access. That’s slightly more complex redstone, and shows a wise amount of paranoia- though of course, a truly determined raider would just break it down.

(It’s as if this player expects others to abide by gentleman’s rules without the threat of force, just the principle. Interesting.)

Atlas knocks loudly on the door. “Hello,” he calls, “anyone home? I’m looking for a redstoner.”

A sound pricks at his ears; the gentle thump of something or someone landing behind him. Just now, it occurs to Atlas that the second floor had windows- one of which was positioned right above the front door.

(Clever devil.)

He whirls around right as the player draws his sword. He means to say something witty, but his grin drops clean off his face as soon as he gets a look at the player’s face, because he knows that face, that messy blond hair and slim nose and pointed chin.

He’s staring at Tango.

Except-

It’s Tango, except the ears are too round, and there are no wither stains beneath his eyes. It’s Tango, except the teeth bared in a scowl are blunt, and the hand gripping the sword ends in fingertips instead of claws. It’s Tango, except there isn’t a single ounce of recognition or fear in his expression, just displeasure bordering on annoyance. And furthermore, there are no blaze rods floating above his head.

Atlas tilts his chin down slightly, enough to look over the top of his tinted shades, and he sees that the player’s eyes are green.

Not Tango, not quite- but close enough.

“I’m Bravo,” Not-Tango says in Tango’s voice, leveling his sword at Atlas’s throat. “Who are you?”

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a long time ago, a player climbs a mountain.

The cluster of basalt spires in the delta north of New Helington isn’t for the faint of heart. In this biome, the risks are many; fall damage, tripping into a sneaky lava pool, and nearly infinite spawning of those damned magma cubes. Even the very air, choked with an ever-constant downpour of ash, is hostile by design.

But Atlas is here for a very good reason.

He’s gotten a tip from Alisker about some new redstoner leaving traps near the borders of New Helington. He even went through the trouble of having one of his goons sniff out the player’s base, so all Atlas has to do is follow the coordinates.

It’s not the first time Alisker has informed him of a potential new hire; several of his full-time scientists came as recommendations. But this time, Atlas is less interested in what this player can do with redstone, and more in what kind of player this is.

<Some kinda mob hybrid> Alisker had written dismissively. <Blazey, me thinks>

There’s a lot that can be done with mob hybrids, far more than a non-redstoner might think. One of Atlas’s own employees just wrote a thesis on the subject. So for that reason alone, it’s worth making the treacherous journey.

(And he’d never admit this, for fear of hypocrisy, but it’s nice to get out of the lab every now and then.)

Glancing at his communicator, Atlas comes to a stop. Based on the coordinates, the hybrid’s base should be just in front of him.

The terrain has opened up into a small plateau, perfectly in line with the normal generation of these biomes. Except there’s the slightest jut out from the far cliff- perhaps a single block too wide than what would’ve spawned naturally here. The blocks themselves are right; basalt in vertical orientation, but the positioning is off. As if someone placed them there to cover something up.

A piston door, perhaps.

(An untrained eye never would have noticed it. This hybrid is clever.)

Atlas puts his communicator away and walks up to the cliff. He’s planning to announce his presence plainly and loudly, not wanting to waste any time or come off as a threat, but he doesn’t get the chance.

A snarl fills his ears, high-pitched and animalistic. He whirls around in time to sidestep the blur of movement coming at him- he only registers them as claws when they scrape the basalt cliffside behind him, leaving four shallow gashes in the stone.

Atlas backs up a few steps, quickly holding his hands up. “Take it easy! I’m not here to fight.”

The figure has backed up as well, pausing, posture slightly hunched as he looks up at Atlas and catches his breath.

The hybrid.

Atlas peers down at him over the brim of his glasses; turns out the hybrid’s eyes are actually red, not just tinted that way through his shades.

The hybrid’s young, though not quite still a kid- somewhere in what most players refer to as the ‘teenage stage.’ His limbs are growing faster than the rest of him, though he remains at least half a block shorter than Atlas, and his face is rounded with the last stubborn remnants of baby fat. Two oversized pointed ears jut out from beneath a mop of wild blond hair. And dancing in the air just above it are several fine cylinders, no thicker than Atlas’s finger, glowing with red heat as they spin and fizzle in a defensive display.

Blaze rods. The entire reason Atlas is here.

He doesn’t let himself stare at them long. The hybrid is watching him closely, those red eyes burning with a calculated intelligence that Atlas seldom finds in a player so young. 

“Hello there,” Atlas starts, keeping his tone brisk. If he tries to be too kindly, he’ll scare the hybrid off for sure. “My name is Dr. Atlas Syn, head of Hels Tek Laboratories. Have you heard of us?”

The hybrid peels his lips back into a snarl, showing off a mouth full of sharp teeth. The blaze rods floating above his head ignite with flames.

It’s not a surprising reaction. Most children in Hels grow up completely wild, at the mercy of the unforgiving world. But truthfully, the ones lucky enough to get taken in by other players or accepted into a community don’t seem to do much better.

Atlas suspects it’s part of an innate defense mechanism, built into the data of young players to protect them from the hostile environment until they’re able to properly look after themselves. Players generally don’t mellow out and start acting civilized until they’ve matured (Atlas considers himself the exception in this case). And of course, a hybrid will be battling mob instincts during any moment of stress or strong emotions, bound to their code.

Rather than react to the threat, Atlas shrugs. “That’s alright,” he says easily. “We’re quite a way’s west, word must not have reached here yet. We’re a redstone laboratory. I hear you know a thing or two about that.”

The growling stops. The hybrid eyes him warily.

“I’m on a recruitment mission of sorts,” Atlas continues, undeterred, “seeking out new scientists to join our staff. We’ve got lots of projects in the works at the moment- plenty of specialties to choose from. Now, you are a bit younger than we tend to hire for full-time scientists, but there’s an opening for an intern that I think you’d be well-suited for.”

The hybrid hesitates- his eyes flick to the side, as if debating whether or not to run. “What makes you say that?” he asks finally. His voice is higher than Atlas was expecting, strained with the characteristic cracking of youth.

Atlas inclines his head. “Whenever people talk about some new player building clever redstone contraptions, I hear about it. And from what I hear, your work is quite impressive for your age.” He lets just the slightest amount of approval enter his voice, not enough to be taken as disingenuous or overly flattering. “I think you could have a bright future with Hels Tek, with a little guidance.”

The blaze rods twirling above the hybrid’s head are glowing yellow, now- and there’s a warmer, less hostile feel to it. It’s likely no one has ever praised him before.

But he’s still on his guard. “What would I get out of it?” he asks dubiously.

Atlas counts on his fingers. “A secure base to live in, a state of the art laboratory to work in, full access to a complete stock of redstone components, nearly unlimited resources, and collaboration with the brightest redstone minds that Hels has to offer,” he says. “Hels Tek has caught the eye of several prominent beneficiaries; you’ll find we’re quite well-supplied.”

Atlas can almost see the gears turning in the hybrid’s mind. “And- and what would you have me do?” he asks, folding his arms.

“Well, that depends on you,” Atlas says simply. “Sometimes, younger interns find the work too challenging. But those that succeed go on to become full-fledged scientists running their own experiments, conducting their own research, constructing their own contraptions- with complete control over their projects.” He spreads his hands. “We don’t constrain our scientists to working on what’s most profitable, we let their passions guide them. Under this methodology, Hels Tek has recently made stunning advancements in redstone technology- with slime block flying machines and iron farming, to name a few.”

The hybrid’s pupils expand a couple of millimeters; the idea excites him. “You guys have villagers?” he asks, trying but mostly failing to keep the excitement from showing in his voice.

Atlas allows a knowing smile to spread across his face. “Like I said, Hels Tek is privy to several lucrative sponsorship deals. We’ve got all sorts of things most redstoners can only dream of. I’m sure we’d find something to suit a man of your talents.” Here he pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Though I must say, I hope your redstone prowess extends beyond simple traps and pranks.”

The hybrid actually puffs his chest up at that. “Oh, don’t you worry,” he says, his eyes flashing at the proposed challenge, “I’ve got plenty more than that.”

He suddenly strikes an arm out at the pillar of basalt beside him- a stone button, almost perfectly blended into the ashen gray landscape.

(Clever devil.)

A chugging sound fills the air. The two peculiar blocks of basalt Atlas noticed earlier are retracted by pistons and tucked away, revealing a small opening in the spire. Beyond that, he can see the inside has been hollowed out, stairs leading down to what must be the rest of the base underground.

“We can talk more inside,” the hybrid says, extending a clawed hand. “I’m Tango.”

Shaking his hand, Atlas grins.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tango.”

~*~

[frozenjokes]

sphinx (he only tells riddles out of malicious compliance) (he looks them up on his phone) (scar (and Mumbo?) still can’t figure it out and he’s (grian) is going insane)

[where-is-welsknight]

Make him read fanfic

Today Welsknight is reading "Deesclicate, Run Away, Apologize Profusely." By ARTEMfluid on ao3!

Image by me! Link to the fic below!

-🎨

[ickmick]

drawings I made for the fic I posted today!! posted both here on tumblr and on ao3!!

theyre in love your honor...

(textless versions, timestamp, and closeup from the fic below the cut!!)

tfw when my own oneshot gives me brain rot and then i spend way too much time on what was supposed to be a quick sketch <3

seriously, it was supposed to be like this tango doodle, and yet....

oh well!! i like it a lot :3

even if it took ages....

[thathermitweirdo]

So recently I posted fusion art of Grian and Doc from the Gemcyt au, and I love them so much (bc toxic) so I wrote a oneshot for them. This oneshot features Grian, Doc, Scar, Mumbo, Watermelon Tourmaline (my fusion of Mumbo and Doc) and Purple Azurite (my fusion of Grian and Doc). I’d recommend looking at their designs if you haven’t already, just to more easily understand the oneshot.

Credit to @chrisrin for Scar, Grian, Mumbo and Doc designs, and also for making Gemcyt au in the first place :)

-

The day was like any other, Mumbo watching as Scar and Grian practiced their duels, standing on the balcony of the beach house. His gaze was focused on Grian, watching as the aquamarine pulled water balloons from his gem, soaring above the ground as he attacked Scar. The spinel sliced through each of the balloons with his cane sword, giggling happily as he did so.

“Hey, Mumbo!” Grian paused, tossing a water balloon in his hand as he waved to the peridot. “Why don’t you come down and practice with us?”

“Oh, um-“ Mumbo blushed slightly. “I-I’m okay. You know I’m no good at fighting..”

“Awe. Okay.” Grian said, turning back to continue his fight. Only, he ended up pausing, his wings slowly flapping as he landed on the sandy ground.

“Gri?” Scar raised an eyebrow. “What’s up? Why’d you stop?”

“I thought I saw—“ He said, before smiling. “I did! I-I think that’s him!”

“Him?” Scar and Mumbo asked in unison, the two looking further down the beach to spot a large figure. Grian smiled widely as he flew off, rushing to meet the figure.

Mumbo came down the steps of the beach house, he and Scar sharing a confused look. “Do we…follow him?”

“I suppose.” Mumbo said, walking along the beach to follow after Grian.

Grian and the mystery gem were already walking back to the beach house, so the four met at the halfway point. When Mumbo approached the two, the gem that Grian was with was nearly twice his size. And Mumbo was quite tall, this new gem had to be at least twelve feet!

He was some kind of centaur gem, maybe bloodstone, used for heavy construction and even wars. His gem was on his left eye, and he was laughing with Grian perched atop his shoulder.

“Oh, guys!” Grian smiled as the new gem came to a stop in front of the two. “This is— wait, hold on..”

He paused, suddenly noticing the spikes along the new gem’s body that were leftover from corruption. “Oh my gosh, I-I didn’t even notice! Doc, what on earth happened to you?!”

The gem known as Doc let out a slight chuckle. “Oh, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice those..”

“Doc..” Grian spoke, his voice nearly a whisper as he placed the palm of his hand against the bloodstone’s cheek. “You were corrupted, weren’t you?” He asked quietly, a sad look across the smaller gem’s face.

“I wanted to get stronger.” He muttered, his voice somewhat ashamed of his actions. “I missed you. I missed fusing with you.”

“So you fused with a corrupted gem? Oh Doc..” Grian’s expression saddened further at that thought, leaping off the bloodstone’s shoulder. He flapped his wings, hovering face to face with Doc. His tiny hands were placed on Doc’s cheeks, while Grian pressed his forehead against the larger gem’s. “Is that why it’s been so long? You’ve been corrupted? All this time?”

“It was just a couple thousands of years.” Doc said gruffly as he pulled away, a slight blush across his face.

“I can’t believe you!” Grian put his hands on his hips, the wings on his back flapping angrily. “You fused, knowing you would get corrupted!”

“Um, sorry.” Mumbo stepped between the two, a bit nervous to approach the twelve foot tall gem. “Gri, who exactly is this..?”

Doc seemed a little upset as the peridot referred to Grian with a nickname, though the smaller gem didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, sorry Mumbo. Sometimes I forget I met you and Scar after leaving Homeworld. This is Doc. He and I worked together back on Homeworld.”

“Mm.” The bloodstone nodded, opening the palm of his hand to give Grian a place to land comfortably. “We ran away together after we realized the diamonds would never allow gems like us to be together.”

“Buh-, be together-?” Mumbo seemed a bit jealous as he stumbled over his words, while Doc simply had a smug grin across his face.

“I-it was a long time ago, really.” Grian said dismissively, sensing the tension between the two gems.

“Wow! So you two were together?” Scar asked excitedly, while Mumbo looked away sadly.

Doc nodded proudly. “We even fused. Y’know, back when it wasn’t acceptable.”

“Wow G! I didn’t know you had this whole other life before us!” The spinel said excitedly, reaching out to try and pet the fluff on Doc’s chest as he spoke. The larger gem slapped his hand away, growling slightly. Grian pat his shoulder, helping to calm the beast down.

He gave an awkward chuckle. “Oh boy, there’s a lot of things I haven’t told you guys.”

“Oh.” Mumbo sighed, deflating visibly. “I’ll um, let you two catch up. I’ll be inside, okay?”

“Wait, Mumbo!” Grian tried to follow the peridot, who was clearly upset, though Doc grabbed his wrist.

“C’mon, let him go.” Said the bloodstone, shooting a cold glare at Scar as he spoke. The spinel gem looked intimidated, shrinking under the stare.

“I’ll, uh..go check on him…” Scar forced an awkward giggle, rushing after Mumbo.

Grian frowned, clearly concerned about the two, though Doc dragged a claw through his hair, bringing the aquamarine back to the present. “I never thought I’d see you again. I thought I’d be stuck a corrupted gem forever.”

“I really am glad to see you again, Doc.” Grian nodded, a sad smile across his face as he glanced back to the house. “But I think my friends are a bit intimidated by you..”

“Aw, they can use a bit of toughening up.” He said dismissively, “Those two haven’t seen what we have. Especially that peridot.”

“Mumbo is fine just the way he is.”

Doc’s nose wrinkled in disgust, the bloodstone glancing away with a mix of anger and upset across his face. “So he’s clearly your new fusion partner.”

“Don’t talk like that, Mumbo and Scar are my friends. Yeah we fused, but as friends.”

“I don’t think that peridot thinks so.” Doc sneered.

Grian frowned. “You’re not being very nice right now. I’m starting to remember why we went our separate ways.”

“You mean how you left me?” The bloodstone asked, raising his voice slightly.

Grian opened his wings, flying slightly above Doc’s hand. “Because you wanted to stay fused! You know that’s not what I wanted! All you wanted was to fuse to be stronger, you just wanted to use me!”

Doc scoffed, looking insulted. “You loved being Azurite just as much as I did. Don’t act like I forced you to fuse.”

“That’s all you ever did! You only wanted me because I was able to make you stronger! You could have done that with any other gem!”

“But I wanted to do it with YOU!”

The two went silent, staring at one another with anger and frustration in their eyes. Grian sighed, turning away while crossing his arms. “You’re the same as ever. I don’t think you should stay.”

Growling, Doc stomped closer to the aquamarine. “I came all this way, just to see you, and you’re just going to reject me?!”

“What, were you expecting things to magically go back to normal?” Grian snapped. “It’s been hundreds of thousands of years! We were only together for a couple hundred!”

“I came back because I wanted to fuse with you again! To be Purple Azurite again! Don’t you want that too?!”

Grian shook his head, keeping his back facing the bloodstone as he crossed his arms. “No, I don’t. I want you to leave.”

He growled again, a deep growl from his chest, Doc grabbing ahold of Grian’s arm to pull him close. “We’re fusing.” He spoke darkly, a cold look in his eye.

Grian frantically shook his head, trying to pull his arm free. “W-Wha-? Doc—?! Nono, I-I don’t want to fuse—!” His voice cracked, tears starting to well in his eyes as he began to panic.

He tried to spin Grian in an attempt to dance, though the small aquamarine wasn’t cooperative, squirming in Doc’s grip while trying to escape. “We can be together again.” Said the bloodstone, “We can be Purple Azurite forever.”

“N-no! I don’t want to be, not with you!” Grian said, kicking Doc’s arm to try and free himself, with no success. “M-Mumbo! Scar! Anyone, please!”

The two gems came running out of the house upon hearing their names called, both had clearly been watching the whole time out of concern for Grian. Doc paused with a growl, pulling the aquamarine closer to him. “What are you two runts supposed to do?” He spoke tauntingly with a laugh in his voice.

Scar and Mumbo shared a look of concern, the peridot grabbing the shorter gem’s wrist. “Scar.” He said, eyes pleading. “Please. Fuse with me to help Grian.”

The spinel’s lips curled into a grin that spread across his face, excited at the proposition. “Oh boy, it’s been a while!”

Mumbo wrapped an arm around Scar’s waist, dipping the gem slightly. “Then let’s dance, shall we?” The green gem smirked, taking Scar’s hand with his free one.

The gem on Mumbo’s forehead began to glow, as well as the gem in the center of Scar’s chest, while Grian’s face lit up with hope. Mumbo tossed Scar into the air, catching him by the waist before twirling with the spinel in his arms. Scar giggled as he was dipped again, before Mumbo lowered his head, pressing his gem against Scar’s.

Their bodies were enveloped in a white flash of light, Doc growling underneath his breath. He clenched his teeth tightly, shaking his head in annoyance. “Fine. I’ll take care of the two of you.” The bloodstone said as he released his hold on Grian before stepping forward.

“Don’t you mean the one of us?” An excited and bubbly voice spoke up, causing a tall figure to step through the light, the fusion of the two gems revealing himself. “Oh, wait, is that grammatically correct? Oh dear, that would be embarrassing if it wasn’t.”

One hand was on his hip as he spoke, while the other scratched his chin. The second pair of hands lifted up the fusion’s tophat and scratched the top of his head as he pondered for a moment. “Oh well, no time for that!”

“Watermelon!” Grian smiled upon spotting the fusion, relief washing over the aquamarine. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

Doc began to laugh, reaching up to his gem. “Watermelon? You gotta be kidding me.” He said, pulling his battle axe from his gem. “I’m going to shatter the two of you.”

“Watermelon Tourmaline, to be exact.” The gem introduced himself, lifting his tophat as he bowed. “And I’m not too sure my friend there is on board with fusing.”

“And you’re supposed to stop me?” Doc snorted, letting the handle of his war axe rest on his shoulder. “Even as a fusion, you two are still runts.”

Watermelon blushed out of embarrassment, before letting out a sigh to keep his cool. “Yes, we are, but I won’t tolerate any violence towards Grian.” Said the fusion, reaching to his chest gem. He pulled out a cane in a matter of seconds, pointing it at the bloodstone. “So either leave, or we’ll take care of you.”

Doc chuckled darkly, raising his axe slightly. “It might be one vs two, but I don’t lose to scrawny gems.”

He tapped his cane against the ground, causing the end of the walking stick to reveal the hidden blade attached at the end. Watermelon raised his cane sword, a smile across his face. “En garde.”

Doc growled as his face heated with anger, raising his axe as he galloped forward. He slashed down at Watermelon, the latter blocking easily with his own sword. He stepped to the side, avoiding a follow up attack, and brought up his cane to block Doc’s next attack. Watermelon smirked, using his sword against the axe to hold his ground.

“You aren’t good enough for Grian.” Doc spat as the two fought to hold their ground.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Replied Watermelon with a sly smirk.

Doc growled in annoyance as he charged once more, swinging his axe downwards. Watermelon parried, making contact with the axe before slashing upwards, knocking it off balance slightly. He then thrust his left leg upwards, knocking the axe out of Doc’s hands and sending it flying into the air.

Watermelon’s second pair of arms cartoonishly wrapped around Doc’s body, tying him up securely. His other pair of arms took off his hat, and without breaking eye contact, he held the hat off to the side. Doc’s axe came down from the sky, falling right into the tophat. Watermelon smirked as he showed Doc the inside of the tophat, revealing his weapon was suddenly gone.

Grian’s smile grew wider as he began happily clapping his hands together. Watermelon placed his tophat back on his head, chuckling slightly as he began to do a few bows. “Thank you, thank you! I’m here all night, folks!��

Doc looked at Grian, wrath burning in his gaze. With the sudden burst of rage Doc grabbed Watermelon’s arms, still bound, using them to swing Watermelon Tourmaline around with enough force to send him flying into the side of the rocky cliff. Doc pulled a new axe from his gem, clearly more angry than before.

Watermelon groaned, adjusting his top hat. “Jeez, this guy packs quite the punch.” He muttered underneath his breath, reaching to pull a new cane sword from his gem.

Doc moved quicker than before, practically leaping across the beach to reach Watermelon before he could grab his new weapon. Just as he had grabbed the edge of his cane, Doc used the flat end of his axe to knock the cane out of Watermelon’s grasp.

“I told you.” Doc growled, lowering the axe just an inch away from Watermelon’s chest. “You two will never be enough for Grian.”

He brought the axe down, slicing Watermelon’s body, causing the two gems to split from their fusion. They fell apart, both exhausted as they landed onto the sandy beach. “And you-“ Doc growled angrily, grabbing Mumbo by the collar of his shirt. “I’m going to enjoy shattering you.”

“Doc, no! Stop!” Grian rushed over, grabbing the handle of the bloodstone’s axe, trying to pull the weapon from his grasp. “Please, d-don’t! Y-you can’t, d-don’t shatter him.”

Grian was begging, tears rolling out of his eye as he shook his head. “Please, I-I’ll fuse with you, I’ll stay with you, I swear! Don’t hurt Mumbo or Scar, pl-please!”

Doc smirked, dropping Mumbo to the ground. He fell limp, barely conscious he hit the ground. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” The gem leaned in close, cupping Grian’s cheek with his free hand. “I promise I won’t shatter your friends, then.”

He looked back down at the defeated Mumbo, before shoving his axe into the peridot’s chest, causing his body to poof, while his gem landed safely in the sand. Doc chuckled, turning towards Grian while offering his hand. “Shall we?” He asked, a dark grin across his face.

Grian sighed, placing his hand in Doc’s as he nodded. “Yes. Let’s fuse.”

“G-Gri—“ Scar tried to speak up, though he was clearly very beat up from the fight. Doc growled at him, glaring down the spinel.

“Scar, it’s okay.” Grian spoke softly, refusing eye contact with the pink gem. “Just..please. Don’t look for me. And take care of Mumbo.”

Doc began the fusion dance, not giving Scar a chance to react. Grian stayed in the air to keep the dance easier, the bloodstone twirling the aquamarine before pulling him close. He chuckled darkly as their gems began to glow, the light overtaking the two of them.

“NO!” Scar yelled, watching as the light cleared.

Purple Azurite had his arms wrapped around his body, as if he were hugging himself, his breathing ragged. He looked down at his purple skin, dragging his hands through his long hair. His face twisted into a dark grin, a laugh escaping the fusion as he dragged a hand along Grian’s gem.

“We’re us again.” Azurite spoke, looking up at the sky while he chuckled to himself. “I’m me again.”

Scar reached into his gem, pulling out his cane sword. He stood up with shaking legs, eyes filled with tears. “Gr-Grian, no, s-stop-“ The spinel tried to argue. “Don’t, d-don’t do this-“

“That’s not our name!” Azurite snapped, eyes filled with fury. “Grian isn’t here anymore. He’s gone!”

“P-please—“ Scar reached out his hand, using his cane as support to hold himself up. Azurite grabbed his wrist, lifting the pink gem off of the ground with a horrifying grin. He threw Scar against the wall, hard enough to cause a crater to form and shake the cliff side.

“Stay down.” Azurite spoke, his voice more of Grian’s than Doc. “Don’t make me poof you.”

Scar curled up into a ball, shaking from the pain and fear. His breath came quickly, short gasps coming from between clenched teeth. He looked up at the fusion with his eyes filled with tears, watching as they walked to the edge of the beach.

The wings of water formed on his back, opening up to reveal they were three times the size of Grian’s original wings. Azurite looked back for a moment, before looking forward once more.

His wings flapped a few times, lifting the fusion off of the ground, before he flew off.

[honeylashofficial]

Like Embers | an Imp and Skizz Oneshot

Firewatch AU - original story by @quaranmine

Skizz Week Prompt #2: Hybrid / AU (@skizzlemanweek)

Fire and friendship are not as incomparable as one may think. It's insistent, it's beautiful, and it marks you for life, whether you care to acknowledge it or not. In the way that unconditional love leaves scorch-marks across ones heart; like how embers remain, rekindle, and remind us of the raw power we possess between our very own fingertips. When wielded wisely, nothing compares.

Hurt / comfort, fluff, more fluff, unspecified injury (but no blood :D)

–+– 3,228 words –+–

November 14th, 1989

“Come on, we could totally make it happen.”

“Seriously, I’m telling you. It will not work.”

“You worried about the equipment?”

“Yes!”

“You’re just no fun.” Skizz paused in the dust, taking his time to lean backwards in a satisfying stretch. He sighed contentedly as the base of his spine popped, loosening again. His keychain of keys jangled in his hoodie pocket.

Beside him, Impulse released his own sigh, shaking his head in finality. “It’s not like they’ll want the footage anyways. There’s gonna be way too much background noise. You’d barely even hear us.”

“What if that’s the intrigue though,” Skizz pointed out, walking onward once more. “The Imp and Skizz radio segment, Forest Edition! I think I’m really on to something here.”

“I think you’re on something,” Impulse muttered, matching him step for step.

“Never. Tis simply my nature to explore the world on a more finite level,” Skizz defended himself curtly, dramatic English accent and all.

The forest crowded in on all sides of their path, silently encouraging them to hush and enjoy the nature around them. But being quiet was something neither of the two men had ever been good at, even from young ages. And it only got worse when they were in the same room. Or, in this case, in the same forest. It was a brisk late morning up in the mountains as they followed a well-trodden path towards a supposed lake. They hadn’t caught sight of it quite yet, but they’d been informed by a ranger a day ago that this was the perfect time to go and see it. Admittedly, Impulse was not nearly as enthralled about this whole hiking business as Skizz was. They were doing it together though, and Skizz had also promised to cook meals for the next two weeks once they got back to the duplex. His skills with a pan had finally convinced Impulse to agree on the weekend trip.

“Alright Shakespeare. Then maybe you could finally explore Dead Poet Society so we can get that out of the way?”

Skizz made a face at the comment, wrinkling up his nose in disgust. “They still want us to do that?”

“It’s extremely popular with the kiddies, says the studio,” Impulse shrugged.

Skizz shot him a look.

“Okay, fine,” Impulse hunched slightly, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “I really want to do it still. Did you at least read some of the book?”

“No,” Skizz shook his head. A fraction of guilt poked at his innards upon the look his friend returned. He sidestepped a fallen branch on the path before putting his own hands in his hoodie pocket. “I told you already. I don’t read.”

“You’re missing out, man,” Impulse insisted quietly.

“What if I just go watch it and say I did?” Skizz countered smartly. Even as he said it, he knew what the response would be.

“No,” Impulse declared shortly. “I would know.”

Skizz smirked, grinning at him the way only he was allowed to. “Because?” He prodded annoyingly.

Impulse glared despite no heat radiating from the look. He pursed his lips, refusing to say it.

“Say it!” Skizz encouraged. There was a taunt in his voice, but it was a part of a language only they spoke. It was an undertone only distinguishable over years and years of growing familiar with one another. And it frequently rolled off both of their tongues in a familial way. Neither of them knew what they would do if that sweet playful banter were to cease.

Impulse averted his gaze, refusing to satisfy Skizz. It was a joke at this point, and one that Impulse played often. It never got old though, and Skizz never grew tired of it. If anything, he’d only gotten more persistent over the years.

“Say it!”

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“Now that’s what I like to- woah!”

The solid terrain disappeared from under Skizz’s feet. His eyes darted back to the path ahead, only to find that he’d misjudged it entirely. The path turned sharply, leading way to steep forest hills and rocky shelves. He gasped as he found no form of grip beneath his body, sinking into the angle and getting tossed head over heels. The world spun dizzyingly out of control as his weight was thrown into the ground over and over again. Blurry smears of color skidded past him before with a jolt, everything stopped at once.

There were stars at the edge of Skizz’s vision. He blinked slowly, trying to bring them into focus. There were parts of his body that ached and some parts that he couldn’t feel at all. If he concentrated really hard, he could manage to hear something beyond the ringing that filled his ears. Impulse was shouting his name distantly. How far down had he fallen? Should he get up, or wait for his buddy?

A minute or so later, his ears began to settle again. The sounds of trees and wind welcomed him back, and the fog in his head lifted just a tad. He needed to get up. He needed to get back to Impulse —get back to the designated path. But something heavy was laying on top of him… He lifted his head to see what it was, but nothing greeted his gaze.

“Skizz! Stupid bra- Skizz! Where are you?”

The voice was getting louder. Skizz could hear his friend pushing recklessly through the underbrush. There was sliding and skidding mixed with half hearted curses before another holler split the air. His tone was unmasked; betraying exactly what he felt. And a part of Skizz couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“I’m here,” he responded, pulling his elbows underneath him in order to push upward. As soon as he did though, a bolt of lightning rocketed through his backside. He just barely composed his tongue, dropping into the dirt again and holding back a pained yelp. Teeth gritted, he muttered furiously under his breath. “Great. Just great.”

Impulse appeared a moment later, his cheeks bright red with windburn. He took deep gulps of air as if he’d been the one rolled down a hill. Upon catching sight of Skizz, he ran forward to crouch down at his side. “You okay?” He wheezed.

“No, I don’t think so,” Skizz admitted, trying not to think about all the things that could currently be wrong with his backside. Pain had bloomed about three quarters of the way down his spine, threatening with another burst if he moved the wrong way. “I think something happened to my back.”

“Uh, Skizz? If you haven’t noticed, something definitely happened,” Impulse slowly slid his backpack from his shoulders. “You fell down a hill for goodness sake. Thank God for this tree here.”

Skizz grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s probably what got me.” He didn’t know what to do now. He was stuck, lying here on his stomach with who knew how serious of an injury. Not to mention, they had to be at least 30 feet from the trail with no guide to point them in the right direction. Why had they even come out here? Why didn’t he just stay put like Impulse had encouraged him to during their precious days off?

“Do you wanna sit up at least, or… how bad is it?” Impulse leaned over, trying to make eye contact at this awkward angle. “Do I need to call for help?”

“No, no,” Skizz raised his head, albeit slowly, so as not to disturb the muscles along his spine. “Gimme a minute or two. It might just be shock.”

“You went down pretty hard,” Impulse murmured before attempting to add more lightly, “And I refuse to carry you bridal style anywhere, just so we’re on the same page.”

An involuntary smile crawled onto Skizz’s face. “Aw… and here I thought Dipple-dop was my knight in shining armor.”

Impulse blew a raspberry, rolling his eyes as he sat heavily in the leaf litter. “I’m just one guy, Skizz. A guy that’s trying to keep you alive-“

Skizz flinched. He didn’t know whether it was because of the statement or the pain.

“-and I just feel pretty terrible at my job right now. So what do you need? Water? Pain meds..? I think I have one or two of something somewhere.”

Skizz knew Impulse. He was in need of a task. Something to keep him preoccupied while the situation outcome was unknown. He was outwardly scared on Skizz’s behalf. And Skizz simply couldn’t ask for a greater friend. “Water sounds great right about now.”

Impulse nodded, opening his bag and digging around inside. After a moment, he brought out a clear bottle, handing it over. Only then did Skizz realize that his hands were trembling with nerves.

“Buddy,” he began, taking the water and unscrewing the cap. “You gotta relax. I’m not dying.”

“I- I know that,” Impulse retorted, looking away. Skizz sighed faintly.

“Look at me.”

Dark brown eyes sheepishly met his.

“What do I always say?”

Impulse groaned, gaze sliding past his ear.

“There are times when you can play it safe, and there are times to be reckless.”

“What are you getting at, Skizz?”

“Look at me?”

Impulse’s gaze returned, slightly harder this time. “What?”

“There’s a third option. It’s not an option though. It’s happenstance. And we just happened to run into it today, alright?”

Confusion swam behind Impulse’s eyes, but it was obvious his patience on the matter had run raggedly thin. He scowled at Skizz. “Would you just tell me what needs to happen man? I don’t need your cryptic-“

“Alright, alright,” Skizz lifted a hand, patting the air calmly. “Just…” He let out a slow breath, hoping that it would negate the throbbing pain somehow. “Just give me another minute or so. I’ll see if I can get up then.”

It still felt as if a heavy object had weighed Skizz’s lower backside to the ground. He couldn’t help but wonder why that was. His legs tingled faintly, weak, and he could tell his jeans had holes in them now. What would his girlfriend think when he returned home with a newly ruined article of clothing? If he returned at all.

Now there was a grim sentence. But Skizz was a realist. And the genuine logical reality of all this was that he’d probably bruised a bone or two and was overreacting completely.

His spine didn’t get the memo.

Shooting pain rushed up and down his muscles, nearly making him sick as he strained himself. His arms shook before giving way, and he just barely had time to clamp his jaw shut, so as to dampen the landing as much as possible. It wasn’t without his mind spewing a line of vial phrases though.

“This really isn’t looking good, Skizz,” Impulse shuffled forward. “You okay?”

“No, it’s not. And yes,” Skizz replied curtly. He gritted his teeth, trying again to bring his palms beneath him. After a moment, Impulse stretched out a tentative hand, placing it on his shoulder.

“Maybe… a few more minutes..?”

They were speaking that familiar language again. The one that said a thousand words, but only required the minimum. The one that they’d learned to interpret through studying the other. Impulse’s hand spoke volumes. Feeling the brush of fingertips against Skizz’s body sent a shiver down his already pained backside.

“Okay.”

Twenty minutes later, Impulse radioed the emergency frequency.

–+–

“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

“Huh?” Skizz opened his eyes, tipping his head backwards from where he was now laying on his back, wrapped in his sleeping bag. The crackle of the fire near his head filled the silent night air.

“The forest segment,” Impulse explained, hugging himself tighter in his thin cotton jacket. It was colder tonight than it had been the night before. And many of the stars were hidden through the dead leaves still on the trees. They would be falling soon, no doubt, littering the forest floor in a blanket of its own. The two of them were now regretting not having packed more properly for emergencies. Hindsight was constantly and annoyingly 20-20.

“You’re not just feelin’ sorry for me now are you?” Skizz chided jokingly. He was comfortable making light of the current situation. He was okay with mentally removing himself from this harsh reality. He was just tired and sore from the day. That was all. So they’d camped early. “I would hate to be scoring pity points, you know.”

Impulse was silent for a while. The low fire casted heavy shadows across his face. “…no. Genuinely. Now that I’ve been listening, it’s kinda… nice out here.”

Skizz smiled. “See? I told ya. And if they really like it, maybe they can send us other places, like the ocean. That could be cool, you think?”

“You mean..?” Impulse raised his head shyly.

“We could travel the world,” Skizz nodded eagerly. “Just like we always wanted to.

“You’re crazy.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Well you shouldn’t.”

The momentary excitement dwindled. A tired sigh played on Skizz’s lips, and his smile faded, replaced with disheartenment. Pain still riddled his body, more prominent in places he hadn’t noticed before. But it was his heart that bled openly. It bled and it wept. Because despite his calm and collected face, a part of him really was scared. Fear twisted in his gut, unkind with its iron grip and sickening anxiety. He was infinitely better at hiding emotions than Impulse was. Now was no exception. But seeing his best friend so torn up about all this wasn’t exactly making it easy. There was pain, yes. But Skizz personally chose to stash it away. The two of them had always differed in their preferred coping mechanisms. Skizz believed that faking it till you made it was the answer to all problems. Impulse had a much softer approach. It did make his temper less stable, but if that was the only thing Skizz had to worry about when it came to this, then he’d still take it any day.

“I’m not dying, buddy,” he reminded his friend softly.

“You’re so lucky it wasn’t your head…”

“True. But seeing as it wasn’t, you can relax now.”

“Skizz…” Impulse found him in the firelight. “I don’t think you get it.”

Smoke curled into a perfectly still evening.

A pause followed. Skizz grew uncomfortable at it, as he swallowed nervously and filled the emptiness with, “Pitch it to me then.”

Impulse sniffled, and if it weren’t so dark, perhaps his watery eyes would be acknowledged. But the light of the low fire was too weak for that.

“What would I have done if it was your head? What am I supposed to do now? I don’t know CPR, or how to set a bone. I wasn’t ready for all this. And you’re acting like it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing. It’s an emergency. You’re in God knows how much pain and refuse to take the stupid tablets-“

“Impulse. The mountain rescue people are coming. They will find us, and I will be okay.”

“You don’t know that!”

“What did I tell you?” Skizz snapped, his tone dipping sharply.

“You say a lot of things, Skizz,” Impulse retorted.

“Happenstance,” Skizz glared through the dark, brows drawn together in seriousness. “You cannot plan for everything. This was never in your control.”

Sparks drifted from the pit of embers. They danced on the air, winking out of existence as if they'd never been there in the first place. And tree branches rattled above their heads, scraping against one another in an eerie disconsonant symphony. Earthy smells overpowered the fire despite being so close to its heat.

“You quoted Dead Poet Society earlier. You know that right?” Impulse asked. He twirled a small twig between his fingers absently —another coping mechanism. “There’s a similar saying in the movie. Something like ‘there’s a time for being daring and a time to be careful, and a wise man understands what is called for’.”

“Huh…” Skizz blinked, his vision blurring slightly.

“I’ll be the first to admit on both of our behalfs that we aren’t exactly wise,” Impulse broke the twig in half, tossing its pieces on the fire. “We’re not stupid either though. The jokes kinda made me.. feel stupid.”

“Okay.”

Skizz loved to make people laugh. He always had. That was why he broadcasted his voice across the county Monday through Friday, for hours on end. To bring people a little ounce of joy throughout their stress filled days and weary nights. And he got to do it alongside his best friend at that. But even more than laughter, Skizz strived to provide comfort. There could only be real laughter once comfort was established. And tonight, it was as if he was seeing Impulse for the very first time. Because in a way, he was. Impulse was in a state unfamiliar to him. And he’d been trying to push the wrong buttons all in the wrong order. So his gaze softened, relaxing as best he could despite his pain.

“Okay, Dipple-dop. No more jokes tonight.”

Impulse nodded, as if to reassure himself as well. “I just really don’t like happenstance, as you call it.”

“I know,” Skizz murmured. “I don’t like it either. I should have said that from the beginning.”

“It’s still pretty impressive how close your quote was though.”

Skizz chuckled. “If I had known that, I’d have kept my mouth shut.”

“To keep me from talking about it?” Impulse rolled his eyes, shoulders relaxing a little. “Actually, since you aren’t going anywhere, I can just tell you what happens.”

“Does this mean I won’t have to read the book.”

“Maybe. It depends on how well I remember everything.”

“Oh shut up, you remember everything!”

“Apparently everything except a first aid kit,” Impulse pointed out. “I know the first thing I’ll be doing once we get back home.”

“I think I should be the one making that purchase,” Skizz argued. “I was the one who fell down the hill, remember?”

“I suppose you are more accident prone.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“You know I could.”

“Just tell me about the book already. We’ll worry about this later.”

“Just as soon as you say it.”

“Say what now? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Say it.”

“You really are the worst, aren’t you.”

For the first time in hours, Impulse finally smiled. Its brilliance washed over Skizz in a warm wave, providing more heat than the fires embers ever could. He cherished this very moment in time, because despite how he’d been acting, this wasn’t going to be anything easy to get over. He had no clue whether the injury had repercussions or a long recovery time in store for him. But Impulse’s smile made everything better somehow. It glowed like the pale moon above them, twinkling like stars, infinite like space itself.

Skizz wondered how a man such as himself would go about gaining such depths —such wisdom. And then he remembered what Impulse had said.

‘There’s a time for daring, and a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for.’

And perhaps he would read that book when they returned home.

Maybe then he could gain a little bit of wisdom himself.

–+– The End –+–

[dvskf4llz]

HELLOOO!! Cloudy here!

Could I request some HCs for some of the hermits (Maybe Ren, Etho, Grian, Scar, Mumbo, Bdubs and Xisuma?) during Christmas w the reader (GN) who is there S/O?

Merry Christmas you wonderful being! Always take care of yourself <333

-☁️

CLOUDYY!! THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THIS IDEA

Thank u thank u everyone aswell

Merry (belated) crimus :3

I genuinely didn't have any ideas for the others so I couldn't do all of them sorry cloudy 😭

This is going to be really short cuz I'm writing this as I'm not feeling well so I apologize

(I'm literally just going to end each one of the HCs with a mistletoe kiss cuz why not)

Christmas HCs with the Hermits

𝓢𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵 (𝓼𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮) 𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝔁 𝓖𝓝!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

---------------------------------------

(Not proofread)

Grian:

-Grian would be type of person to still pull pranks even if it's Christmas, he would try to make the pranks more festive and decrease the amount of tricks he'd pull atleast

-In the morning, you'd wake up to him standing infront of you with a mischievous grin on his face making it obvious that he had a few festive pranks up his sleeve

-When you went outside into the snow, snow immediately got dumped onto your head

-After you got most of the snow from your hair/clothes, you were immediately greeted by a bunch of snowballs in the face who were thrown by none other than Grian

-After a few light-hearted pranks, he'd stop eventually so that you could calm down

-You two of course would make a few gingerbread houses and some gingerbreadman cookies together, Grian would even sometimes throw some flour at you which ended up resulting into chaos...

-The kitchen ended up looking like it snowed inside, but you two teamed up to clean it together

-After all the gift-giving, snowball fights, the flour fights and pranks, Grian had one last trick up his sleeve

-He set up a certain something ontop of one of the doorways he was sure you would walk under, and to no surprise, you did

-You saw Grian standing right in front of you with the same mischievous grin he had earlier while pointing up, you instinctively looked up only to see a mistletoe, of course.

-In the end, Grian did get his kiss and was all happy about it as the two of you spent the rest of the day cuddling

Xisuma

-Since Xisuma was the prime admin of the server, it was a bit hard for him to get some time off to spend the holiday with you. But eventually he did end up being able to get off for a while just for his lover

-He was a bit tired but nonetheless still had the spirit

-You two would spend the day by making snowmen, attempting to bake cookies, opening gifts and cuddling

-Xisuma would definitely be making sure you were covered enough before you went into the snow so that you wouldn't get a cold, he was just concerned for you of course

-He'd let you throw some snowballs at him, eventually he would also throw some snowballs to you as well just to get back at you

-He helped you build a snowman, placing the main body of the snowman while letting you place the head and decorate it however you wanted

-With baking cookies, you both would have equally divided regular cookies so that you could decorate them

-His designs on the cookies were a bit wonky but nonetheless cute, he even tried to attempt to draw your face on the cookie with the icing but kind of failed, you still appreciated it though

-You also happened to set up a mistletoe right above one of the doorways while Xisuma wasn't looking, you lured him over to that doorway and stood underneath the mistletoe with him

-When Xisuma realized the mistletoe was there, he chuckled before lifting his helmet up slightly to give you a loving kiss

-At the end of the day, you two cuddled onto the couch and watched some Christmas movies together <3

Ren

-mans would definitely be waiting at your side for when you wake up, he was just so excited to spend the Christmas Day with his lover

-It would be 6 am in the morning and he would be absolutely energetic still (Dog thinhs /hj)

-Once you were awake he'd immediately rush you to get changed so you two could go out in the snow already, which of course you did change into some warmer clothes

-As soon as you were out on the snow, he'd pull you with him to have a playful snowball fight

-What Ren didn't know was that he underestimated just how good you were at snowball fights, he would be constantly getting hit by snowballs, only ever getting the chance to hit you with a few sometimes (or it can be the other way around if you aren't that good w snowball fights)

-You two would make a snowman together and call him "Renbob", you even got to hear a Renbob impression from Ren himself

-You two would definitely be making gingerbread houses together, Ren was trying to go for a more architectural house while you were just making a simple one

-Of course, you would also join in the fun in the Grand Prix boat race since there was no harm in doing it. Overall, you did have fun most of the day

-So by the end of the day, when you both arrived back to your shared base, you and Ren just so happened to walk under a mistletoe together

-Ren would not hesitate to make you face him and kiss you passionately, his tail wagging like crazy as soon as he felt you kiss back

-You and Ren did end up ending the day with cuddling and loving kisses <3

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Yeahhh that's it, sorry it's rlly short

Not feeling too well so I had to make this short

I'll maybe edit this and make it a bit longer (maybe even add a few more hermits) when I feel better

Again, so sorry for forgetting this and so sorry for making it short TT

Happy (Belated) Holidays everyone!!

[riacte]

False gets #slain by the two race creators 🥹 that Etho oneshot was so funny (and unnecessary)

[finchesslingshott]

i need content!!! pls!!!

drop any asks for fanart or fanfics in my askbox pls!! i need smth to do lmaoo

FANDOMS I AM IN/WILL WRITE OR DRAW ABT:

newsies (any version)

dead poets society

percy jackson

les mis

hermitcraft/life series

probably more ask me later