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[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part VII

Word count: 15,641

Warnings: Strong language, mild body horror, violence, blood/injury, mild gore, death, manipulation/deception, fictional bigotry, discussion of fictional eugenics (I guess??)

Summary: As Bravo continues working with Hels Tek to create a portal, the frequent complications and delays start to wear on his patience- not to mention the aggressive behavior of the Hels players he’s forced to associate with. But over the years, he finds himself treading deeper and deeper water to get what he wants. And after a shocking revelation is made about Tango, Bravo will have to confront exactly what kind of player he is.

A/N: I can’t believe I once thot I’d cover all of Bravo’s time in Hels in just one chapter. Holy shit. This is now the longest chapter by far, over 15k words. But I can safely say that we’re done w this mini-arc, and next time we’ll get back to the Ranchers in the Double Life times.

Disclaimer: I don’t understand a lot of redstone, and what they’re trying to do with redstone here isn’t even a thing in Minecraft irl, so just go with it. Also, mind the gore warning. There’s a death in here that isn’t super descriptive, not any more than Bravo’s various deaths in part 2, but the way it occurs is kinda disturbing. Hope y’all enjoy, please reblog if you do! - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part VII - babe, there’s something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, one player follows another through a gate.

Pistons lurch as the door closes behind them. But Bravo can hardly hear it above the sudden cacophony of noise beyond the walls of New Helington.

There’s far more life and activity here than he’d been expecting, a virtual sea of movement as players rush past each other. Mismatched buildings crowd the busy streets on either side, accented by flashing lamps and the occasional puff of steam. The air is filled with shouting and the sound of machinery; loud, chaotic, violent.

Over the years, Bravo’s grown accustomed to the various scents within Hels, from the ash-choked basalt detlas to the deep caves of sulfur. Every biome with trees in it smells like smoke, because inevitably, some part of it is always burning. Here, though, there’s a new smell added to the mix; the thick smog of coal and the metallic tang of iron. It reeks of industrialization- which might’ve been comforting, except he can see that New Helington is still very clearly uncivilized.

Much of the things being shouted between players are threats and insults. Players shove and scowl at each other as they pass. Several fist fights are currently taking place right before Bravo’s eyes, and that’s just what he can see out on the streets; the muffled sounds coming from within the ramshackle buildings are just as discouraging.

Bravo reminds himself to be careful. They may be more technologically advanced, but they’re still just as savage as the rest of Hels.

Atlas takes in the sights without comment, expression unchanging. He’s been here before, Bravo recalls. “Now,” he says lowly, “I do believe someone has been sent to collect us-”

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

Bravo jumps at the new voice, whirling around. A player is looking down at them from his perch on one of the wall’s watch towers. But it’s not his precarious position that makes Bravo’s heart jolt; he actually recognizes the player.

A well-built man, with a neatly trimmed beard and bright, teal eyes. The trident strapped to his back is further evidence- this is bXMiner, the player who killed Bravo the last time he tried to come to this city, years ago.

“Ah, Mr. bX,” Atlas says with a smile, seeming not at all surprised as bX drops to the ground in front of them. “Always a pleasure. This is my associate, Mr. Bravo.”

bX nods at him. “What’s up?”

Bravo blinks. “What’s up?” he repeats, struggling to keep his voice even as his temper flares. “That’s- that’s all I get? What, you don’t have anything else to say to the guy you murdered in cold blood?”

Rather than look taken aback, bX chuckles. “Oh man, you’re gonna have to be more specific,” he says with a rueful grin. “I kill a lot of people. Nothing personal.”

“Right,” Bravo says tersely, folding his arms. He’s not sure what stings more; that bX killed him, or that bX doesn’t even have the decency to remember killing him.

Atlas shoots him a warning look. “Of course, that’s not why we’re here.”

“Yeah, I gotta say, I was surprised to hear you were coming by.” bX’s tone is light, conversational- but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes as he studies Atlas. “Bit early for our next visit, isn’t it?”

Atlas’s grin tightens. “I assure you, Mr. bX, this is no ordinary house call. But I’d much prefer to discuss the details once we’re inside.”

“Sure, yeah.” Nodding, bX turns and starts walking towards the main street. “Follow me.”

Atlas steps in close, grabbing Bravo by the arm. “Mind yourself,” he says, still smiling.

Bravo jerks his arm away with a huff. “Fine! I’ll play nice.” As if he has a choice.

They follow bX into the street. Fortunately, it’s easy to keep track of him because the other players hasten to get out of his way. Clearly, bX holds some sort of status here. His presence must be fairly common, however, because Bravo and Atlas seem to be garnering most of the attention. Bravo tries not to bristle when he feels the weight of curious eyes on him.

He’s fully aware of how dangerous this is. Nearly every Hels player he’s met has been unpleasant at best, and outright hostile at worst. He’d once thought that a structured civilization like this could only exist due to cooperation and common decency. It’s obvious now that he was wrong. The players here must be kept in line by nothing short of brute force. The tension in the air is like a misplaced block of TNT, just waiting to explode.

Atlas, of course, doesn’t seem at all bothered by this. He keeps his chin up and his eyes forward as he walks, shoulder set and grin firmly in place. Like he has absolutely nothing to be nervous about.

Bravo desperately tries to channel that energy as they delve deeper into the city.

~*~

“Wait here,” bX says, slipping through the door.

Bravo opens his mouth to protest, but is quickly silenced by the warning look Atlas gives him. They’re in Papa Al’s house, now, he reminds himself. They must tread carefully.

bX has taken them to a lavish quartz mansion, much bigger than any other structure in the city, complete with a fenced-in, fully landscaped garden. Everything on the premises is impeccably maintained; a sharp contrast to the rest of the city. It was clearly designed with aesthetics in mind, and seems well-staffed. If Bravo had any doubts about just how powerful and wealthy Papa Al is, they’ve been thoroughly refuted.

After leading them through the mansion, bX took them up a rather impressive piston elevator, stopping at a floor that consisted of a single hallway with a single door at the end. It’s this door that they’re now waiting in front of, as bX presumably speaks with Papa Al inside.

Bravo definitely isn’t nervous. He definitely doesn’t try to listen to the conversation through the door- to no avail. And he definitely doesn’t jump out of his skin when the door suddenly swings open, almost smacking him in the face. Quickly straightening up, he takes a breath to compose himself, hoping bX didn’t notice.

bX definitely noticed. “Come on in, guys,” he says, amused.

“Thank you,” Atlas says graciously, pulling Bravo into the room behind him. “Ah, Papa Al, it’s good to see you!”

Bravo has to make a conscious effort not to let his mouth fall open. The floor and ceiling of Papa Al’s office are completely paved with solid diamond blocks. Oh, that’s so… tacky. So, so tacky. But it’s the most expensive kind of tacky Bravo’s ever seen. The fact that this guy has so many excess diamonds, he can build with them...

“Spank you, queenie,” the man sitting behind the desk tells bX. He turns to beam at them. “Doctor Sinny! Come in, come in, take a seat!”

Papa Al. He’s dressed to match the room, in an obnoxious teal suit and multiple diamond rings. His own features are rather plain, aside from the countless thin lines hatched across his face. And his voice is… not what Bravo was expecting. Strange accent aside, there’s a playful nature to it. It’s extremely unsettling, coming from a man with this kind of reputation.

bX moves to stand beside Papa Al, who reaches a hand up to caress the side of bX’s face. It’d be a possessive gesture if it weren’t so affectionate, if bX didn’t smile softly back at him. Bravo’s taken aback- seems like this crime boss is full of surprises.

“Of course,” Atlas says, “thank you for seeing us.” He takes one of the two chairs sitting in front of the desk, gesturing for Bravo to follow suit. As Bravo sits down, Papa Al gasps.

“And oh wow, look at dis beautiful face!” he coos. “Now, look into my eyes, and nufin’ but my eyes…”

Then the rest of his eyes open up.

Atlas warned him not to stare, but Bravo can’t help it. Being told that the man has a bunch of extra eyeballs on his face is one thing, but it’s another thing to see it. To see them all mismatched and misshapen, moving and blinking completely out of sync. It’s horrifying.

Rather than take offense, Papa Al almost seems pleased by Bravo’s reaction. His grin widens, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Wassa matter, sweetface?” he asks innocently, cocking his head to the side. The motion makes his various eyes roll around in a dizzying manner.

A cold sweat trickles down Bravo’s neck. “Nothing,” he grits out, averting his gaze. “Uh, sorry. Sir.”

Luckily, Atlas swoops in. “Now, Papa Al, I know you’re a busy man,” he starts smoothly, “so in the interest of saving time, allow me to be brief. I believe I’ve found the solution to our Tango problem. Mr. Bravo here-”

“Ain’t from dese parts, humm?” Papa Al says thoughtfully, his eyes dragging over Bravo’s form. “Or even from dis world.”

Bravo suppresses a shudder. He’s never been scrutinized so intently before; it feels like layers of his skin are being peeled back. And how Papa Al can tell he’s from another world just by looking at him, he has no idea.

Atlas recovers quickly. “Yes, that’s correct. Mr. Bravo came to Hels by accident through a portal, the same time Tango disappeared. I know you never meet Tango, but their similarity is quite striking, too much to chalk up to mere coincidence. I believe they share a connection that we could utilize to open a portal and track Tango down, to retrieve the information he stole, and get our project back on track.”

“Is dat so?” Papa Al hums. His eyes are split between looking at Atlas and Bravo; an expression that’d almost be goofy if it weren’t so off-putting. “Den what’chu waitin’ for?”

Atlas pauses, his face twitching the way it does when he’s trying very hard not to let his annoyance show. “We’ve run into some difficulties with actually isolating this connection,” he explains carefully. “See, we still have Tango’s communicator, which we’ve been comparing to Mr. Bravo’s, but my team is sorely lacking a specialist in data analysis.”

“Ooh, I see…” Papa Al nods earnestly. “You need a real smart guy, huh?”

Atlas’s grin is so tight, it’s a miracle his teeth haven’t cracked. “This degree of analysis is a bit beyond our scope, yes,” he admits, begrudging.

Papa Al taps his chin- the eye located there quickly squeezes shut. “Hmmm… I fink I know a guy,” he says after a moment. “But he’s a vewy hard guy to track down, so it could take some time. Could be a bit scary, a bit hairy.”

Satisfaction flickers across Atlas’s expression. “Who do you have in mind?” he asks, leaning forward.

“Uh uh uh!” Papa Al tuts, wagging his finger. A few of his eyes close for a second- is he trying to wink? “All you need ta know is that he’s da best of da best in dis kinda fing. An’ he reaaaally likes his privacy.”

Atlas purses his lips. Clearly, he’s displeased, but isn’t willing to argue. “Well, if you think he’s the man for the job, I trust your judgement. I’d be happy to speak to him myself to explain the-”

“No, no, no, no, nooo,” Papa Al interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t you worry your purdy little head about it. If I can get him ta take da job, he’ll find you, mkay?”

“Of course. As you wish.” Atlas inclines his head. “Though I must stress that this is rather sensitive information, and the utmost care should be taken to ensure-”

“Oh, Sinny,” Papa Al sighs. He rests his head in his hands. “You really fink I got to where I am today wifout knowin’ how ta keep my mouth shut? I know what’s at stake, same as you do.”

Atlas exhales slowly. “Of course.”

“Now,” Papa Al continues, “step outside wif bX for a second, mkay? I wanna talk ta Mistah Bravo.”

Bravo jolts in his seat. What? This wasn’t part of the plan!

Atlas stiffens. “If you require any more information about the project, I’m sure I can-”

“Dat wasn’t a request, sweetface,” Papa Al says, his tone deceptively light.

Atlas falls silent. With a terse nod, he rises from his seat and follows bX out the door. As he does, he gives Bravo a look that isn’t so much reassuring as it is saying ‘don’t mess this up.’ Normally, Bravo would roll his eyes, but he’s just as worried about messing this up as Atlas is. Atlas was supposed to do all the talking, Bravo doesn’t know how to navigate Hels business like this-

“Soooo,” Papa Al drawls, “Mistah Bravo… you come from other worlds outside a’ Hels, is dat right?”

Now that they’re alone, Bravo bears the full weight of Papa Al’s gaze. He straightens his back unconsciously. “Yeah. Uh, yes sir, Papa Al.”

Papa Al hums noncommittally. “Tell me… what are da other worlds like?”

Bravo blinks. “Um- you mean like, just in general? I guess… they’re usually a lot nicer than Hels.” He scratches the back of his head. “See, other worlds have a separate nether from the overworld, and- and we travel between them using portals.”

Papa Al nods, motioning for him to go on. Evidently, he’s familiar with the concept.

Bravo swallows. “Okay so, all the biomes with ash and lava and fiery stuff, that’s- that’s nether stuff.” He counts on his fingers. “Basalt deltas, warped and crimson forests, soul sand valleys, nether wastes- that’s all pretty much the same. I mean, it’s fine if that’s what you like, but uh, I prefer the overworld.”

Papa Al’s expression is utterly unreadable, those many eyes watching him with rapt attention.

“So, the overworlds,” Bravo continues haltingly. “There are… okay, so- so overworlds have tons of different biomes, right? The biomes here are sorta like uh, hybrid biomes, so you’ve got like, netherrack veins in a stone mountain or a jungle filled with crimson fungus. But in a normal overworld, the biomes don’t have any features of the nether. And other than a few specific kinds, they all usually have some kinda grass and trees, and they’re green. Not brownish-green like the ones here.”

His tone turns wistful, despite himself. “And the sky- there’s no bedrock ceiling in the overworld, just an endless blue sky… there are clouds sometimes. The air’s clear. And the sun… it’s this giant, yellow ball of fire way up in the sky, too far to reach, and when it shines down on your skin, it’s just the most amazing feeling. Warm, but not painful. And- and at night, the sky turns black, and you can see a bunch of tiny bright lights called stars, and one big, white moon. Like a smaller sun. The moonlight isn’t warm, but it’s beautiful in its own way. I…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, I uh- I didn’t realize I missed it so much…”

A gentle smile spreads across Papa Al’s face, forcing several eyes into a squint. “Oh, das alright,” he murmurs. “It must be hard, ta be away from home for sooooo long. And I bet you’d do whatever it takes ta go back, hmm?”

Bravo is immediately on edge again. “I suppose,” he says warily.

“Now tell me dis…” Papa Al leans in, his voice low. “Do you trust Atlas?”

Well. That’s not what Bravo was expecting. He knits his brows together, trying to figure out how he should answer. Is this some kind of test? “I… trust that he wants a portal opened as much as I do,” he says eventually.

Papa Al tilts his head. “Is dat so?”

It’s impossible to tell whether he approves of the answer or not. Bravo makes a frustrated noise. “I- I don’t- look, compared to how other players here have treated me- I mean, Atlas is one of the few who didn’t just kill me on sight.”

“Oh, sweetface…” Papa Al clicks his tongue. “Dere are so many fings a player can do ta you dat are worse dan killing.”

Irritation flares through Bravo. He hates being treated like he’s naive; he didn’t make it on his own here for several years through the power of friendship. “Okay, so- so what, are you sayin’ I shouldn’t trust the guy who’s working for you?” he asks, folding his arms. “I mean, what- what do you want here?”

“I want ta know dat you’re committed,” Papa Al says, holding his gaze evenly. His earlier playfulness has fallen away into the cool demeanor of a hardened businessman. “Dat you’ll uphold your end of da deal. Cuz- cuz if you don’t, den I’m wastin’ a lotta time and energy for nufin’, mhmm. You get me?”

“I- yeah, I get you,” Bravo says shortly. In his opinion, it’s a stupid question. There is so much more on the line for him than there is for them. They want to get back important research. He wants to get back his entire way of life and an infinite universe. It’s almost insulting, for Papa Al to question Bravo’s commitment.

“Good, good.” Papa Al nods. “Cuz ah, little word to da wise; I am not someone you wanna cross.”

Bravo grits his teeth. He generally considers himself a nice guy, but god, he’s so tired of all the posturing. “Yeah? Well, well maybe I am, too,” he says lowly.

For a moment, Papa Al just stares at him, as if he hasn’t fully processed the threat. Then he throws his head back and laughs, all his eyes squeezing shut. “Oh, I knew I liked ya,” he says cheerfully. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. Tell Doctor Sinny dat I’ll work on sending da specialist over pronto, mkay? And in da meantime, he should tell me if dere are any updates or probbylems. Got dat?”

“I- yeah, sure,” Bravo says, taken aback. “Uh-”

“Great! You can go, now.” Papa Al sits back in his chair, waving his fingers. “Buh bye! Spank you! See ya next time!”

Well, that’s that.

Bravo steps out of the room almost in a daze, into the hallway where Atlas and bX are waiting. bX nods at him in greeting and leads them back out of the mansion, through the city, and to the gate before bidding them farewell.

Atlas waits until they’re on the flying machine back to Hels Tek to start pestering Bravo about his meeting with Papa Al. Bravo tries to relay the odd conversation the best he can, still trying to make sense of it himself. But he leaves out the part where Papa Al asked if he trusts Atlas.

Somehow, he doesn’t think Atlas would take that well.

~*~

“What? That’s it?”

Bravo jumps a little as Tyrannicide slams his hands on the conference table. Atlas sighs, looking almost bored as he waits for the other scientist to stop shouting.

“Are you fucking kidding me? All we get is some flimsy promise that he’ll send for a specialist, without even knowing who?”

“Dr. Tyrannicide, indoor voice, if you please,” Atlas says dryly. “I understand it’s not ideal, but-”

“It’s a rip off, is what it is,” Phantonym cuts in, her arms folded as she leans back in her chair. Her shoulders are hunched, jaw set. “I thought this guy was supposed to be our top sponsor!”

The tension in the room is palpable. Bravo knew that the rest of the portal team wouldn’t be thrilled by the news of their visit with Alisker, but he’s unsettled by all the hostility. It’s like they’re going to leap over the table at Atlas any second now. Surely they wouldn’t actually attack each other here- Hels Tek is better than that, right?

“Alisker is our top sponsor,” Atlas replies, giving Phantonym a stern look. “I’m sure he has his reasons for all the secrecy. All we have to do is be patient.”

“And what if this so-called specialist never even shows up?” L8R_H8R demands. He’s tense, hands gripping the armrests of his chair so hard his knuckles are white.

Atlas smiles, shrugging a shoulder. “Well, in that case, I suppose we carry on as we have been.”

H8R frowns. “At the rate we’ve been going, it’ll take years just to figure this data thing out, much less build a working portal from it,” he points out. “Isn’t Alisker’s patience with us already running thin?”

Atlas’s smile widens. “Yes, yes it is. So if I were you, I’d stop wasting time throwing fits over things beyond our control and get back to work. Do I make myself clear?”

The scientists mutter their agreement, a reluctant, “Yes, sir.” The tension dissipates, and Bravo remembers to breathe again.

It’s fine. This is fine. The specialist will come, they’ll figure out how Bravo is connected to Tango, they’ll finally be able to make a portal, and this nightmare will be over. He’ll go home and forget about this horrible place. He just has to be patient for a little bit longer.

It can’t take more than a few days, right?

~*~

Several days come and go, with no news.

Atlas is starting to get annoyed by how often Bravo asks if he’s heard from Alisker. But he can’t help it; he hates feeling out of the loop like this, feeling completely and utterly powerless. He tries to keep himself busy, but progress on the portal has screeched to a halt. The rest of his team is once again trying to teach themselves how to read and analyze data, the lab covered with pages and pages of code, and all his attempts to help are met with stiff rejection. Even just being in the room with them is getting increasingly uncomfortable; tempers are short, and there’s a lot of bickering.

The other scientists seem to tolerate his presence better. His assistance on the various projects at Hels Tek isn’t always necessary, but they don’t mind him hanging around to observe and ask questions. They seem to be in higher spirits than the portal team- probably because their projects aren’t stuck on the backburner, waiting for some mysterious specialist to show up out of the blue. So long as they’re being productive, they’ve got nothing to fight about.

At least, that’s what Bravo thinks until he walks in on a scientist throwing one of the interns against the wall.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you?” the scientist snarls, a piece of paper clenched in his first. “Double check your calculations before showing them to me. If you can’t even do basic math, you’re-” He pauses when he notices Bravo, all his fury suddenly vanishing. “Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were dropping by today.”

The intern has quickly recovered himself, standing with a carefully composed expression.

“Right,” Bravo says uncertainly, a pit forming in his stomach. “Uh, sorry- I’ll come back later.”

He leaves before the scientist can protest, his heart pounding. He’s never seen violence used so casually around Hels Tek, the way it is elsewhere in Hels. The closest time was when Atlas had to snap Clear out of a breakdown, and even that hadn’t been done so lightly.

Atlas told him that Hels Tek was different. That it was better than the rest of Hels, that he’d be safe here. 

It’s… probably not that big of a deal. Everyone loses their temper from time to time. And Bravo can’t hold them to the same standards he would normally, because they’re still from Hels. Things just… work differently here. It doesn’t matter anyways; as soon as that portal is working, he’ll be out of here for good.

He just has to be patient.

~*~

Days turn into weeks.

~*~

“-informed me that they should have the entire lexicon fully transcribed by now,” Atlas says, his quick footsteps bouncing off the empty hall.

Bravo keeps pace with him as they make their way to the portal lab. “Yeah, well, that’s what H8R said last week-”

He breaks off when he hears a sudden crash. Behind one of the doors to another lab, he can make out the sound of furious shouting- two scientists he’s vaguely familiar with- and more heavy thunks and crashes.

Bravo turns to ask Atlas about it, but he’s already slipping inside the door. The sounds immediately stop. After a minute, Atlas comes back out, smoothing down the front of his lab coat.

“Just a little work dispute,” he tells Bravo with a smile. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” Bravo says flatly. He almost lets it drop there, but something prompts him to keep going. “Y’know, I- I’m not stupid. I know you guys are trying not to be so… so Hels around me. What, do you think a- a few harsh words and fist fights are gonna scare me off?”

“Of course not,” Atlas says, raising his eyebrows. “It’s true that my staff are attempting to be more conscientious than what’s standard for the rest of Hels, but I instilled those rules even before you got here.” He looks at Bravo from over the brim of his shades. “Contrary to what you might believe, we Hels players don’t all thrive on chaos and violence. Some of us would prefer a little more civility and order.”

“Oh, okay.” Bravo glances away, almost sheepish. “Sure, yeah. Sorry.”

Atlas hums noncommittally, continuing down the hall. “Now, where were we…?”

~*~

Weeks turn into months.

~*~

“I’ve told you, I’m working on it!” Tyrannicide snaps. “Who died and made you queen?”

“Well, someone has to keep us on schedule,” Phantonym shoots back, her eyes narrowed, “and it’s clearly not you!”

Bravo pinches the bridge of his nose. The two scientists have been arguing all morning about things he can barely follow. Something something, responsibilities, something something, timelines. It’s really getting hard to bear. If this is the best redstone lab that Hels has to offer, he shudders to think about how the others must function…

“I’m sick of your shit!” Tyrannicide pushes away from the lab bench, his chair toppling over with a loud thud as he jumps to his feet. “If you don’t like the way I do things then you can just-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence; a sword suddenly appears in his chest, splattering blood across the lab bench. Instantly, he vanishes in a puff of respawn smoke, the sword dropping to the ground with a clank.

Phantonym calmly leans over to pick it up. Shock crashes over Bravo as he processes what just happened, only two feet away from him.

H8R sighs loudly. “For godsakes…” he groans, rising from his chair. He shuffles over to grab the mop leaning against the wall. “Couldn’t you have taken this outside? Papers, ruined…”

Bravo finally finds his voice. “You killed him,” he says, stunned.

Phantonym rolls her eyes. “Sorry, yeah, I know that was rude,” she huffs, putting the sword back in her inventory. “But whatever, maybe he’ll come back with a better fucking attitude.”

Bravo isn’t sure how to respond to that. Fortunately, Atlas is quick to arrive, having noticed the death message in chat. He lectures Phantonym about ‘appropriate workplace conduct’ and then pulls Bravo to the side.

“I apologize for that,” Atlas says lowly. “With respawn anchors set up, death has little consequence, and as such, players can sometimes get careless- even those who should know better. But I can assure you, no one here would even think about harming you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bravo demands. He finds that hard to believe. “Why’s that? Has- has my sparkling personality endeared me to them?”

Atlas sighs; he has little patience for Bravo’s sarcasm. “No. I’ve simply impressed upon them that, if such an unsightly event were to occur, there would be dire consequences.”

“Oh.” Bravo swallows. “Uh. Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Atlas says, stepping away. “Now, all of you, get back to work.”

Bravo runs a hand through his hair, pausing as he feels a few strands stuck together with still-warm blood. A lump forms in his throat, but he forces it down.

Business as usual at Hels Tek.

~*~

“I don’t know why this couldn’t wait,” Atlas grumbles, rubbing his eyes behind his shades. “I’m all for starting work early, but this is a bit excessive.”

“Because,” Bravo says impatiently, ushering him down the hallway, “every time I try to get a straightforward explanation with the rest of the team there, it always turns into an argument. And I’m sick of being out of the loop. I- I need to know exactly where we’re at with this project, okay?”

There’s only a few more months to go before Bravo will have been at Hels Tek for two years. Not that they’ll throw him an anniversary party or anything. Most players don’t pay much attention to the yearly passage of time; the only reason he even knows how long it’s been is because he’s made a point to keep track on his communicator.

(It’s hard to tell for certain, but Bravo thinks he might’ve stopped aging at this point. He wonders if Tango’s stopped aging too, or if he’ll look younger or older than Bravo when they finally meet.

He supposes it doesn’t really matter. Since all players are immortal, they usually only keep track of age until they reach adulthood. After that, players continue to age up to a certain point that’s completely random; a player who looks twenty might actually be decades older than a player who looks forty. Socially, there’s no difference- an adult is an adult.

But privately, Bravo had been hoping to physically age at least a little bit more, to look more mature than he does currently. Maybe it’d help others take him more seriously.)

Atlas hums noncommittally. “Do you not trust your team?”

Bravo snorts. “I trust my team to get distracted by bickering, that’s what. So- so that’s why I just need you to catch me up to speed on everything, before the rest of ‘em get in this morning.”

“Very well,” Atlas sighs, fishing his keycard out of his inventory as they stop in front of the lab door. He swipes them in. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’d be happy to-” He breaks off as soon as they step through the door, blinking in confusion.

The lights in the lab are already on.

Bravo’s immediately on edge, quickly glancing around. He deliberately dragged Atlas down here at the crack of dawn so they could get here before anyone else on the team-

“Hey, everybody.”

That’s a new voice.

Bravo cranes his head up in the direction the voice came from, and his heart jolts. A player is sitting up in the metal rafters of the lab, balancing on the thin beam in a crouch. Before either of them can respond, the player drops off the side- and catches himself in a rapidly-placed block of water, which disappears back into its bucket and into his inventory just as quickly. He straightens up, standing only a few feet away from them with his hands in his pockets.

The first thought Bravo has is, ‘What a show off.’ Seriously, what kind of guy places water in a redstone lab just to pull off a silly MLG trick?

The player in question is a man with a tall, lanky frame- made even more apparent by the baggy bomber jacket he’s wearing. The gray jacket is old but well-maintained, with patches on the elbows and the collar lined with matted white fur. Complimenting it is a pair of dark cargo pants tucked into trim combat boots. A clock hangs at his hip, suspended on a delicate chain.

His white hair is in the style of an undercut; shaved around the sides and back, with only the top left long and tied into a small bun. His whole left eye is glowing bright red- artificially red, like redstone- with a white iris. The skin surrounding it is thick and mottled, like some kind of burn or chemical scar, standing out in sharp contrast against his pale complexion. It’s impossible to tell the extent of it, though, because the entire lower half of his face is covered by a black mask.

Bravo’s never seen him before. But Atlas inhales sharply, eyes widening from behind his shades.

“Well, well, well.” Atlas spreads his hands, breaking into a broad grin. “If it isn’t Mr. Patho, of Patho’s Lair!”

“Oh, you know who I am?” the player, Patho, asks. It’s difficult to read his expression with so much of his face hidden, but he almost sounds amused.

“But of course.” Atlas is practically vibrating with excitement as he approaches Patho, coming to a stop in front of him. Bravo follows him cautiously. “Any competent redstoner knows who you are, Mr. Patho. It’s an honor to have you here, I don’t know why my staff didn’t inform me of your arrival-”

“I let myself in,” Patho says casually.

It takes a second for the meaning to register; he snuck into Hels Tek completely undetected.

“Ah.” If Atlas is disturbed by this information, he doesn’t show it. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise! It’s an honor to meet you,” he says emphatically, holding out his hand. “I’m Dr. Atlas, the head scientist here.”

Patho just stares at him, hands still in his pockets, making no move to shake Atlas’s hand. It seems to Bravo as if the temperature in the room has dropped by ten degrees.

Atlas, to his credit, recovers quickly. “Thank you so much for coming,” he says, tucking his arms behind his back. “I wasn’t aware that Alisker knew you.”

Patho nods. “Oh yeah, me and Papa Al go way back.” 

Now that Bravo’s getting a closer look, he realizes that Patho’s red eye is mechanical; he can see the little metal plates that make up the iris, moving to change the diameter of the pupil. That, combined with the scar around Patho’s orbit, mean it’s probably a cybernetic replacement.

Injuries that kill a player are healed upon respawn, but they occasionally leave a mark, depending on the nature and severity of the wound. The likelihood of retaining some sort of damage increases the longer a player has an injury without actually dying. Bravo’s seen players with all sorts of scars in Hels, but never one that’s missing an actual body part. He wonders what sort of circumstances could lead to an entire eye being permanently lost, and shudders.

“Well, we’re happy to have you,” Atlas says. Man, he’s really laying it on thick. “I’m certain with your help we’ll be able to-”

“So, this is the overworlder?” Patho interrupts, turning his keen, mismatched gaze onto Bravo. There’s something calculating in his expression, and the intensity of his robotic eye is a little disconcerting- like it’s evaluating Bravo on some level he can’t understand.

“My name’s Bravo,” Bravo says, feeling a spike of irritation. He folds his arms. “So Alisker sent you? You know uh, we talked to him about sending a specialist months ago. Like, almost a year ago.”

Atlas shoots him a warning look. Clearly, he holds this player in very high regard- for whatever reason.

But Patho shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, well, I’m a busy guy,” he says, completely unapologetic.

Bravo’s jaw tightens. He’s trying really hard not to let his annoyance show, but this guy is quickly getting on his nerves. “I just don’t- what, he- he couldn’t just send a quick whisper, asking you to drop by?”

“No, actually.” Patho finally takes his hands out of his pockets, pushing up the sleeve of his left arm. The entire limb is mechanical- a prosthetic, Bravo realizes, just like his eye- and there’s a familiar screen embedded in his forearm. “I don’t get whispers anymore. I permanently disabled chat.”

He’s built his communicator into his own arm. And disabled the chat. In a world without an admin who can just replace his communicator if something were to go wrong.

Bravo stares at him. “Wh- why would you do that?!”

Patho gives him a curious look, huffing a laugh. Like Bravo’s some kind of dumb animal that’s doing something mildly amusing. “Sorry, that’s actually none of your goddamn business,” he says, tone deceptively light. “Now let’s get to work, yeah?”

Bravo’s too stunned to respond. But Atlas swiftly intervenes, sweeping an arm out towards the lab benches. “Of course! Our set up is right over there, Mr. Patho. Feel free to take a look at our progress thus far while I call the rest of our portal development team over.”

Patho simply nods and turns away, sidling over to the lab benches. Atlas seizes Bravo by the arm and leads him aside.

“Do you remember,” Atlas asks lowly, speaking through the clenched teeth of his grin, “how I told you that a long time ago, a very smart player used data analysis to figure out that Hels is made of two distinct realms fused into one?”

Bravo quirks a brow. “Yeah?”

“Patho is that player.”

“What?” Bravo jolts in surprise. “But that’d make him-”

“One of the oldest players in Hels, yes,” Atlas says, nodding. “I know he doesn’t look it; he stopped aging a long time ago. But trust me when I tell you that this player is ancient, and someone you do not want to cross.”

Bravo frowns. “Seems to be a running theme here, with the sorta people you work with.”

Atlas tilts his head. “Let me put it this way. If I had to choose between having Alisker or Patho as my enemy, I’d choose Alisker any day.” His grip on Bravo’s arm tightens. “You must be on your best behavior.”

“Okay, okay, jeeze!” Bravo huffs, shaking Atlas’s hand off. Despite his annoyance, he can’t deny the concern that Atlas’s words have instilled in him. This must be serious. “Relax, I’m- I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

“I should hope not,” Atlas responds cooly, pulling up his communicator. “We can’t afford to waste this opportunity.”

Bravo manages not to roll his eyes. “Don’t have to tell me that,” he mutters under his breath as he turns away.

~*~

It only takes a few minutes for the other three to arrive. Introductions are a rushed affair, with far too much fangirling for Bravo’s taste. Apparently, Patho is some kind of celebrity in the redstone community here. Go figure.

Once everything’s settled down again, Atlas explains the situation to Patho in excruciating detail, with frequent interjections from the other scientists. They’re all so eager to prove how much they know about the subject. The hostility between them from the last few months has been all but forgotten; clearly, they wouldn’t dream of devolving into petty bickering in front of Patho.

If nothing else, at least this visit has given them a serious attitude adjustment.

Patho listens to them with rapt attention, speaking only to ask an occasional clarifying question. There’s absolutely nothing in his expression to give away what he’s feeling about the information. Certainly not the excitement Bravo might’ve expected, from someone learning that there’s a way out of Hels.

Maybe Patho’s always suspected. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

Patho also spends some time looking over Bravo’s and Tango’s communicators- which makes Bravo more than a little nervous. Patho’s inspection goes beyond a cursory glance; he actually starts digging through data logs and memory banks, reading the embedded codes.

“Lotta early deaths, huh, Bravo?” he comments at one point, making Bravo flush.

To top it all off, Patho pops open a panel on his robotic arm and tugs out a little cord. He uses this to plug into each of the communicators for a few minutes, his expression blank as his cybernetic eye rapidly scans back and forth. It’s… a little disturbing to watch. By the time he finishes up and gives Bravo his communicator back, Bravo’s practically ready to snatch it out of Patho’s hands. He quickly stows it in his inventory while simultaneously trying to look as though he isn’t at all bothered.

Jury’s still out on whether he was successful or not.

“Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking,” Patho announces finally, after all these minutes of information-gathering.

They’ve all settled at the chairs by the lab benches now. Tyrannicide, Phantonym, and L8R_H8R each have notepads out. Atlas doesn’t, but he can’t disguise the interest in his eyes as he leans forward slightly in his seat.

“In the worlds outside Hels,” Patho starts, “you can make portals two ways; a nether portal to travel between overworld and nether, or a portal from your communicator to travel between worlds. In Hels, we can’t do either. But um, there’s actually a difference in how these mechanisms have been blocked here. Aha.”

“You see, buried deep inside every communicator’s memory is a command for creating a new world, and a command for traveling to an existing world- like, a derivative of the ‘summon portal’ command. These commands are locked on a Hels player’s communicator, just like, completely nonfunctional. No amount of tampering can activate them again, so one of these communicator portals has never physically existed in Hels.”

“Now, a nether portal, on the other hand, can still be created in Hels. The uh, the frames just don’t ignite. This is because they were designed to travel between two distinct realms that are now fused in Hels, so the portal gets confused. It’s like, you’re asking it to teleport you somewhere, but you’re already there. So it just crashes. But, theoretically, if you gave a nether portal in Hels a new destination, outside of Hels, you could trick it into teleporting you there.” He finally pauses, gaze drifting around the table. “With me so far?”

Eager nods from the scientists as they scribble down notes.

Bravo frowns. “So why hasn’t anyone successfully done that yet?” he asks.

Patho blinks at him. “It’s a paradox,” he says slowly. “In order to make a portal out of Hels, you need to anchor it to something outside of Hels. But in order to find something outside of Hels to act as an anchor, you need to make a portal out of Hels. So um, historically, there’s been no way for anyone in Hels to access anything from other worlds.” He shrugs. “Until you showed up.”

Atlas looks pleased. “So, you’re saying Mr. Bravo is the key to interworld travel?” His tone makes it clear he already knew that, but is now having it confirmed by a top authority on the subject. It must be extremely validating.

Patho nods. “Yeah, so player data is actually influenced by the world you spawn in. Sort of like, an origin ID tag. I could tell just from reading him that he’s not from Hels. All we have to do is use his data to create an anchor point to another world and link it to a nether portal.”

There are surprised and agreeable little murmurs from the scientists.

“Oh, genius-”

“Of course!”

“-yes, I see.”

“Uh…” Bravo clears his throat. “Hey, so- so as the aforementioned ‘he’, would this uh, hypothetical scenario be in any way painful or damaging? Or permanent? I mean, it’s not gonna- it won’t turn me into a portal, right?”

Patho waves him off. “No, no, it shouldn’t be. It’d be like um, a fingerprint or retina scanner. You’d just need a setup that can read your data and feed it to the portal, and it’ll ignite inside the frame.”

That’s something, Bravo supposes. “Okay… but we aren’t trying to go to just any other world, or my homeworld, we’re trying to find Tango,” he points out. “And- and we have no idea where he is.”

“Ah, you didn’t let me finish,” Patho says good-naturedly. “Based on what I can tell from this Tango guy’s communicator compared to Bravo’s, you can use Bravo’s data to create an anchor point to Tango, too.”

Oh, that’s all kinds of strange. “But why?” Bravo asks, throwing his hands up. “How exactly are Tango and I connected? Is it like that- that thing when one chicken egg spawns in multiples? Like, twins?”

Patho shakes his head. “No, you’d be completely identical if that were the case, and I can tell from your communicators that you aren’t.” He gives Bravo a considering look. “The real answer is, um... more complicated than that. You sure you can handle it?”

Well, that’s not concerning.

Despite his sudden unease, Bravo huffs a laugh. “Uh, yeah? I mean, that’s- that’s what we’re here to find out, right?”

“Alright, then,” Patho hums. He pulls a potion out of his inventory- night vision, Bravo thinks. “So like, imagine that this bottle is Bravo. And all his data- all his code, like everything that makes Bravo who he is- is represented by the potion in the bottle. And that potion is made up of different ingredients, right?”

Bravo knits his brows together. “Where are you going with this?”

“Just stay with me.” Patho pulls another bottle out, but this one is empty. “So when Bravo was spawned, he had all these different ingredients in him. But for whatever reason, the uh, the universe took certain things out and dumped them into a second bottle, making a new potion.” To demonstrate, he tips the potion into the empty bottle, letting some of the shimmering liquid pour into it. “That’s Tango.”

Bravo balks. “Wh- so Tango’s my clone?!”

Patho gives a rueful sigh, like he’s patiently trying to teach an actual child some very simple concept. “No, not a clone. Again, you’d be identical.” He scoops up some stray redstone from the lab bench and pours it into the second potion, swirling it around until the liquid turns reddish. “He’s a derivative of you, like some part of you that has been given its own sentience and form before getting spawned here. I don’t know why. But uh, I predict this is the case for every player spawned in Hels.”

There’s a moment of silence. The redstone particles in the potion eventually settle on the surface, like blood on water.

“Mr. Patho,” Atlas ventures finally, his tone careful, “surely you don’t mean... you’re suggesting we all have doppelgängers outside of Hels?”

“That’s right,” Patho says, putting the potions away. “It’s simple inductive logic based on the construction of the data of every player I’ve ever seen.”

The scientists don’t look quite so eager anymore, pens hovering motionless over notepads.

Bravo exhales slowly, running his hands through his hair. This is… so much more than he could’ve guessed. He’d thought there was a chance the universe purposefully spawned the worst players here in Hels, as some kind of preemptive punishment. But what Patho’s suggesting… it’s different.

“But... but why would the universe do that?” Bravo asks quietly.

“Like I said, I don’t know.” Patho scratches at his jaw over his mask. “Um, I’d need Tango here to do a direct comparison in order to figure out what ‘ingredients’ he’s made of. But we can estimate. So like, what similarities does Tango share with you?”

Bravo shrugs helplessly. “I- I mean- I’ve never met him, but-”

“Their tempers,” Atlas interrupts, his eyes widening with realization. “Mr. Bravo does a fine job keeping it under control, but when Tango got truly angry, he’d fly into an uncontrollable, destructive rage.” He gives Bravo a thoughtful look. “I was never certain how much of that was solely attributed to his blaze hybrid status, but now it seems to me that he got it from you.”

Something about that sentence rankles Bravo. He shoves it to the back of his mind.

“There you go.” Patho waves a hand. “Hels players are made of the worst parts of overworld players. Aha.” He winks. “Explains a lot, right?”

Bravo can only shake his head. “I just- I don’t understand how you can know all that just by looking at me and our communicators-”

“This is what you hired me for, right?” Patho asks, inclining his head. “It’d take way too long to explain. Look, trust my expertise or don’t. I get paid either way.”

“Apologies, Mr. Patho,” Atlas says quickly, “of course we trust your expertise. It’s just… quite a lot to take in.”

“Really?” Patho sounds genuinely surprised. “Seems pretty simple to me.”

Atlas’s smile is strained. “You mean to say you aren’t at all bothered by the concept of your existence being owed to some player in another world? That you’re nothing more than the most undesirable parts of them trimmed away and given shape, locked into an inescapable prison for the simple crime of existing?”

“Nope,” Patho says easily. “So I uh, I just foot the bill to Papa Al, right?”

The sudden change in topic throws Bravo for a moment. “Uh- what do you mean?”

“My payment,” Patho says, stretching his arms above his head before standing up. “Job’s done, so…”

“What?” Bravo demands, rising from his seat. His chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “That’s it? You- you’re leaving, just like that?”

“Yeah?” Patho chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Like, what else do you want, a kiss on the cheek? That’ll cost extra.”

Bravo feels himself flush. He’s not sure how much of it is from embarrassment and how much is from anger. “I thought you were supposed to be helping us open a portal,” he says, stalking up to Patho.

Atlas frowns at him. “Now, Mr. Bravo-”

“Well,” Patho says, tilting his head, “I already told you everything you need to know to open a portal to Tango.”

“Yeah, well,” Bravo snarks, glaring up at Patho, “knowing and doing are two very different things. We’ve waited months for you to show up, only for you to leave after ten minutes, are you serious? I- I mean, aren’t you gonna help us actually build the portal?”

Patho scoffs at him. “I’m a consultant, not a contractor,” he says, turning away.

Rage flares inside Bravo, like his blood’s turned to lava. “Hey! Don’t you have any idea how important this is?” He grabs Patho by the arm. “You can’t-”

Pain cuts across Bravo’s stomach, before he’s even processed that Patho’s moving. He sees the briefest glint of metal in Patho’s hand- some kind of blade- and something warm presses against his legs. He looks down and- oh. Those are his intestines. He’s looking down at his intestines, spilling from a neat slice that Patho has made through his abdomen.

All the air leaves Bravo’s lungs in a strangled gasp. He has a second to look up at Patho, who stares back impassively, those mismatched eyes cold and hard as stone, before Patho reaches forward with his other arm- the robot arm, easily pulled from Bravo’s grasp- and he plunges it into Bravo’s open body, grabs a fistful of viscera, and pulls-

Bravo sees a spray of red, then everything goes black.

He wakes up on the floor of his bedroom.

Oh. So that happened. Residual adrenaline crashes over Bravo like a bucket of cold water. Quickly he glances down, finding no sign of injury. This does little to calm him. His breath comes in short, ragged bursts, and his hands are shaking as he scrambles for his communicator.

Bravo was slain by Patho.

What the hell.

Putting his communicator away, Bravo forces himself to take a few slow, deep breaths. Okay. He respawned in his room. He’s fine. The respawn anchor is now missing one little wedge of light. It almost seems to mock him, like a solitary eye. That’s less fine. It’s been so long since his last death, damn it, he thought he was done with the random murder stuff!

As he gathers his composure, rising to his feet, he finds that his shock is quickly giving way to anger. He doesn’t care how smart or famous Patho is, he’s not going to take this laying down. Hels players might be fine with casually killing someone every time they get on each other’s nerves, but Bravo isn’t.

All he’s asking for is some basic fucking humanity.

Grabbing his spare sword out of his ender chest, Bravo smacks the button on the wall and darts out the door. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears. His feet swiftly take him back to the lab, the route subconsciously memorized after all the time he’s spent in this damn place, and he’s so angry he almost rips his keycard up as he swipes in.

“Hey!” Bravo shouts, rushing into the lab. “What’re you…”

He trails off. Patho is standing not far from where Bravo left him, casually talking to Atlas. His hands are in his pockets, his body language totally relaxed. There’s a splatter of blood across the front of his jacket. Atlas is smiling pleasantly and nodding.

Tyrannicide and Phantonym are hunched over the lab benches, comparing notes. H8R is mopping up the blood on the floor. Bravo’s blood. They all look up at his entrance, expressions disinterested, before turning back to what they were doing.

It’d be terribly unnerving, if it weren’t so infuriating.

Bravo storms right up to Atlas and Patho. “What’s going on here?” he demands furiously.

“Ah, there you are.” Atlas turns to him with a beseeching look. “Mr. Patho has agreed to stay and help work on the portal for a bit longer,” he informs Bravo, as if this is gracious news.

“Oh, has he?” Bravo rounds on Patho with a snarl. His grip tightens around his sword.

Patho shrugs, not at all concerned by Bravo’s very clear threat. “Your friend’s very persuasive.”

“Um, excuse me?” Bravo gives an incredulous laugh, made harsh with anger. “So- so are we just not gonna address what happened?!”

Patho chuckles. “Okay, okay. Here, I’ll use my words this time.” He stares directly into Bravo’s eyes, his cybernetic pupil constricting to match his natural one. “Don’t touch me again, or I’ll fucking kill you. Got that?”

The hair on the back of Bravo’s neck stands up. He can’t even respond, his voice dying in his throat.

Atlas takes the opportunity to grab Bravo by the arm. “Mr. Bravo, a word, please,” he says, steering Bravo away.

Bravo’s too stunned to argue. But once they’re at the other side of the lab, he finally finds his voice again. “Wh- are you kidding me with this?!” he snaps, not bothering to whisper. “This guy shows up out of nowhere after months and months of waiting, sneaks in unannounced, and then decides to fucking shank me just for grabbing his arm? And- and you’re okay with this? You actually want to keep working with him?”

“I do regret that such an unfortunate incident occurred,” Atlas says somberly, as if Patho killing Bravo in cold blood was some kind of freak accident. “I meant it when I said Hels Tek strives to be better than the rest of Hels in that regard. But you must understand that this is simply the way things are here. And with certain recent… revelations… realize that it goes beyond culture or tradition or just simple crassness. It’s in our nature, our very data itself.” He gives Bravo a knowing look. “Some are better at fighting that instinctual coding than others, but none of us will ever operate at the same level as an overworlder.”

Bravo pauses, his anger starting to fade. He hadn’t thought about it like that. He’d assumed most Hels players acted the way they did just because they could get away with it. Hels is a world with no rules and no admin to keep order, so common decency falls by the wayside. But he’d thought, he’d thought, that surely they were capable of being better? That there’d be some innate sense of humanity, deep down inside them, that would guide them if only they cared enough to listen.

But now. Now, it seems as if they aren’t capable of it. Not just because they don’t know any better, but because something inside of them is actively rebelling against it, spurring them on to ever more horrible, violent deeds. Bravo’s always felt he was different from Hels players, but now he has actual scientific evidence supporting the fact.

It’s… almost comforting.

“I… I guess that’s true,” Bravo says uncertainly. He puts his sword away, folding his arms. “But I mean- come on, do we really have to keep him around?”

Atlas smiles. “Patho is one of the most brilliant minds in all of Hels. He practically invented the field of data analysis. He is likely the only player who will be able to help us open a portal in a matter of years rather than decades. With your assistance, I’m certain we can figure it out.” He puts a hand on Bravo’s shoulder, and his grin sharpens. “I’m still willing to uphold my end of our deal. Are you?”

The reality of the situation sinks in slowly, a cold dread.

Bravo’s spawn is set here via respawn anchor. He’s outnumbered and outmatched. This is a secure facility that would be near impossible to escape from. With what Patho’s learned, they don’t need Bravo’s cooperation to create a functioning portal. They just need him, his physical data. And he knows they’d be willing to hold him here against his will to get what they want, to keep him trapped like some kind of experiment, like an animal.

Atlas is offering him a chance to not do that. To work with them willingly. And to maybe, just maybe, still go home at the end of all this. He doesn’t know if the portal will require his continuous presence to work. He doesn’t know if Atlas will let him leave, if he’s their only way out of Hels. But it’s a chance.

The only chance he’s got.

“Yeah,” Bravo says, forcing a smile. “Yeah, of course. I mean, we’ve come this far, right?”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Atlas says, releasing his grip on Bravo’s shoulder. “Now, play nice with Mr. Patho. Without his help, you just might be stuck here forever. Understand?”

Bravo’s throat tightens. “Loud and clear.”

~*~

“So I’ve got the blueprints done,” Patho announces nonchalantly, dropping a roll of paper on the table. “Have a look.”

Atlas quickly scoops up the blueprint, moving aside cups and bowls to make space. Bravo fights back a scowl and keeps eating his lunch.

The other scientists in the cafeteria have taken notice, whispering to each other excitedly and casting not-so-subtle looks at the portal team’s table. Patho’s arrival yesterday caused quite the stir, but this is the first time many of the other scientists are actually seeing him- though Bravo’s definitely noticed a few players snooping by the door to the portal lab.

After studying the blueprint for a moment, Atlas raises his eyebrows. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting such a compact design,” he says. His tone is a bit mixed; he’s clearly impressed with Patho’s work, but is irritated that the solution has turned out to be so simple. “Is this really all it will take?”

Patho nods. He seems content just to stand by their table with his hands in his pockets, making no move to sit down with them. “For the most part, yeah. I mean, you know, I’m not sure what kind of power source this thing will need yet but the data processing itself isn’t bad.”

“Power source?” Tyrannicide chimes in, looking over the blueprint with knitted brows. “What do you mean? Isn’t opening a portal like punching open a doorway? Once it’s open, it should stay open.”

“Well, normally, yeah,” Patho says, “but this portal isn’t supposed to exist. We can force the portal to open a door for us by feeding it coordinates, but it’ll be updating every tick. And every time it updates, it’ll check its input and output coordinates, and once it tries to process the uh, the coordinates from Hels, it’ll crash. Because, you know, portals aren’t supposed to exist in Hels. But, if we keep sending our own updates to it, like in a constant stream of power, it’ll keep resetting the checker. Sort of like an update suppressor. And um, that way, it’ll remain open and stable.” He taps the side of his head. “Aha.”

Small murmurs and exclamations of realization and agreement around the table. Bravo sets his bowl of mushroom stew down with a little more force than necessary.

“You said that all we needed to open a portal was my player data,” he accuses.

“To ignite it, yeah, but not stabilize it.” Patho makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s like…imagine you’ve got this door, right? And you want the door to stay open. But there’s, like, a big windstorm on the other side, constantly trying to slam the door shut. So you have to provide your own opposing force to hold the door open. Too little, and you won’t be able to stop the door from closing. Too much, and you’ll blow the door off its hinges, and the uh, the doorway will collapse. It’s gotta be just the right strength. And uh, it’s gotta be 100% reliable, too. No stalling or malfunctions.”

Bravo exhales through his nose. “Wonderful.” 

Atlas puts a hand on Bravo’s arm. “I’m sure we’ll find a solution when we get to that point,” he says mildly. “There are plenty of options for powering redstone, should be fairly simple.”

Grumbling, Bravo shifts over on the bench so he can see the blueprints a little better. He scans the diagrams with careful attention, from the portal frame to the rows of data processors all the way down to the input chamber, where he sees what’s clearly supposed to be a player standing on-

“Is that a redstone ore block?” Bravo asks, taken aback.

“Yeah?” Patho quirks an eyebrow. “What, don’t you guys have any redstone ore in this place?”

Bravo snorts. “Uh, no. There’s like, a whole system of double chests filled with redstone blocks if you-”

“No, no good, you need the ore,” Patho says, shaking his head.

Bravo frowns. “Why?”

“There’s a neat little trick you can do with redstone ore,” Patho explains. “It like, lights up when you step on it, right? Turns out it’s actually reading your presence. Like a player detector.”

“Wait, really?” Phantonym asks, leaning forward in her seat. “I thought the particles were simply reacting to kinetic energy.”

“That’s a pretty common assumption, but there’s more to it than that.” Patho idly scratches at the side of his mask. “To keep it short, something about redstone in its raw, unmodified form allows it to, like, take in and process information at a higher level. Of course, we ruin that when we mine it into dust. So you can either use a super complex player detector that’ll take weeks to build and cover up the entire floorspace of this lab… or we can use a block of redstone ore. It’ll be able to read Bravo’s data and transform it into a signal that we can feed to the portal- after it goes through a data processor, of course.”

Bravo is begrudgingly impressed. However, he can’t help but jab, “If redstone ore is that useful, why don’t you have any?”

“Oh, I do,” Patho replies matter-of-factly. “I keep plenty in my ender chest. But like, I don’t really use my own materials on consults like this, so…”

“Right,” Bravo says flatly, less impressed. This guy won’t even give up a single block of redstone ore for a job? What a jerk.

Atlas rolls the blueprint back up into a neat scroll. “Well, this is just splendid work, Mr. Patho,” he gushes. Then he grins at the rest of them. “Anyone up for some mining?”

~*~

After a few days of work, the lab looks like a completely different place.

Several chests have been stacked up and stocked with all the materials Patho’s design requires. In the meantime, he’s laid out where everything is going to go using outlines made of redstone dust. The lab benches are littered with blueprints- Atlas had the good sense to make plenty of copies- and pages of notes.

(There’s also a new wooden platform up in the rafters, only the bottom of it visible from below. Bravo thinks that might be where Patho is actually sleeping, strangely enough. It’s not like they don’t have any spare rooms.)

Once all the preparations have been made, Patho runs the team through the details of his design. The portal is straightforward enough; just an obsidian frame with a redstone line feeding into it. But after that, the outlines quickly become more complicated.

“So, there’s a lot of information in a player’s data, right?” Patho starts. “If we tried to feed it all into the uh, the portal, it would completely overload it. Like, it might try and do some crazy things. So we’ll keep it simple by giving it only the coordinates we want it to open up at. But in order to get those coordinates, we’ve gotta take all that raw data and filter it to get what we want. Aha.” He gestures vaguely at the redstone outlines. “That’s what this is for.”

Bravo squints at the outlines. “And- and what’s this repeater circuit for?”

Patho shrugs. “Well, right now, the coordinates we get from your ID tag lead directly to Tango. Like, the coordinates would open a portal up directly on top of him. Since you guys are trying to get something back from him, I imagine you’ll wanna be able to sneak up on him, right?” A knowing look glints in his eye. “So this circuit is gonna add about fifty blocks of distance in the X axis. Just so you’re not right in front of him when you come through the portal. That way, you keep the uh, the element of surprise.”

“Oh, I see,” Atlas murmurs approvingly. “Very clever.” 

Bravo folds his arms. “Unless Tango happens to be standing fifty blocks away from a cliff,” he points out.

Patho’s eyes slant upward in what might be a grin. “Guess you’re just gonna have to take that chance,” he says simply, before moving on. “So uh, after the signal passes through this circuit, it’ll-”

The lab door flings open with a metallic clunk.

Dr. Clear sweeps into the lab, hastily shoving his ID card back in his coat pocket. He doesn’t even look over or acknowledge them at all as he beelines towards the stack of chests. Mumbling under his breath, he pops open the nearest chest and starts rummaging around in it.

Patho blinks at the unexpected interruption. Atlas looks like he might have an aneurysm.

“Excuse me, Dr. Clear?” Atlas calls, his voice and smile incredibly strained.

“Huh?” Clear pauses, glancing over his shoulder. He seems mildly surprised to see them, like he didn’t realize anyone else was there. Typical.

Atlas folds his arms behind his back. “Is there any particular reason you’re interrupting us while we work with Mr. Patho?”

Clear stares dimly at them. “Who?”

If Bravo’s not mistaken, Patho’s face twitches a little at that.

“Mr. Patho,” Atlas stresses. “You know, Patho’s Lair?”

“Patho Slair?” Clear cocks his head to the side. “Huh. Slair. Kinda sounds like stair. Anyone ever call ya that? Patho Stair?”

Bravo manages not to laugh, but it’s a near thing. Atlas looks like he could strangle Clear.

“Anyways.” Clear goes back to digging through the chest. “Don’t you worry none, just ‘ave ta grab somethin’...”

“Is your own lab not sufficiently stocked?” Atlas asks pointedly.

That gets Clear’s full attention. He steps back from the chest, letting it slam shut, and looks around. “Oh. This ain’t me lab. Right, then.” Without another word, he turns on his heel and exists just as quickly as he’d come, leaving the lab in baffled silence.

Atlas turns to Patho with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry for the interruption, Mr. Patho. Dr. Clear isn’t exactly-”

“It’s fine,” Patho chuckles, waving him off. “Let’s uh, let’s get back to work.”

‘Yes sir, Mr. Stair,’ Bravo thinks to himself.

~*~

“Okay, everybody,” Patho calls. “This is gonna be a simple test.” 

Bravo sighs impatiently. Putting together the actual redstone for the portal generator took much longer than it ought to have. For someone with such an impressive reputation, Patho barely contributed to the building process, the real laying-down-blocks part. Instead, he mostly supervised and criticized. Apparently, he’s very particular about how his redstone works.

It wasn’t made any easier by the number of times random scientists would stop by the lab with flimsy excuses just to talk to Patho. They’d always end up asking him to explain the project, which he was always happy to do (because he’s a massive show off, too big for his combat boots) so everything would grind to a halt.

They haven’t even properly hooked up the portal itself yet, as Patho insisted on testing their data processing unit beforehand. And of course, Bravo would voice his complaints if it weren’t for the little issue of Atlas not-so-subtly reminding him that the only way to get what he wants is by cooperating with Patho.

So. Here they are.

“All we’re gonna do is have Bravo stand on the ore block,” Patho continues, “and see how the data reads out. Just to make sure everything’s accounted for, so like, nothing extra accidentally travels to the portal. If we’ve done everything correctly, we’ll find the coordinates properly counted in these hopper clocks.”

Tyrannicide, Phantonym, and H8r are standing by with notepads at the ready. Atlas is watching from the side with a smile that might’ve been meant to be encouraging, if Bravo didn’t know him better.

Patho glances over at Bravo. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Bravo pushes down a sudden surge of irritation (as if he’s the one they’re waiting on) and steps onto the redstone ore block. Particles gather at his feet as the veins of ore light up. He watches the signal travel along the redstone line, like a lit fuse, and enter the data processing series.

Dispenser clocks tick and observers flash. The signal makes it way through the circuit before reaching the end of the line and fizzling out. The other scientists wait with bated breath as Patho checks the input coordinate hoppers. His expression betrays nothing.

“Alright,” he says finally, “so uh, the hoppers all filled to exactly two and a half stacks before locking. Can anyone tell me where the problem is?”

All three scientists’ hands go up. Bravo groans and puts his face in his hands.

~*~

“Okay, that’s ready to go.” Patho straightens up, dusting the redstone off his hands. “Bravo, stand on the redstone ore.”

“Alright, I’m standin’,” Bravo huffs.

Patho turns to the others. “I wanna stress again, if this works, the portal that generates is not gonna be stable. No one is going in or out of it, okay? I mean, like, we might see it only for a couple seconds, if we’re lucky. Everyone ready?”

Enthusiastic nods from the sidelines.

“Alright, here goes.” Patho stoops over and hits the button.

A piston extends, pushing a redstone block out to complete the circuit. The signal from Bravo darts across the newly created path, into the data processor. They all wait with bated breath as the signal inches closer to the portal frame-

The temperature drops, a static charge filling the air. Light flashes in the portal frame for just a second, just long enough for Bravo to process the color of it (or colors, rather; an ever-changing rainbow) before there’s a loud crack, and it’s gone, leaving behind an empty frame.

For a moment, the room is filled with stunned silence.

“Amazing!”

“I can’t believe-”

“Did you see that?”

Bravo finally finds his voice. “Oh, finally.” He jumps off the redstone ore block, pumping a fist in the air. Excitement courses through him like electricity, and the relief is overwhelming. “Yes! We’ve got a portal, we’ve got a portal- oh my gosh, this is fantastic!”

Atlas shakes his head. “We’ve got the means to create a portal,” he corrects, though he can’t hide how pleased he is.

“Yup.” Patho nods, his satisfied gaze sweeping over the redstone. “Now all that’s left is to set up a sufficient power source to maintain the portal once it’s open. Can’t overdo it, though, or the whole thing will blow up.”

Bravo exhales slowly. “Right, can’t forget about that tiny little detail.”

“I have some ideas,” Atlas says with a grin. “Rest assured, we’re in the home stretch now.”

~*~

One day, they wake up to find Patho gone.

Just disappeared in the middle of night, without so much of a word to anyone. Atlas speaks with Alisker over whispers for a while, but the crime boss has no further information and insists there’s nothing he can do. Evidently, Patho’s decided that they’re far enough along as to no longer require his assistance, and whatever business he has elsewhere in Hels is more important to him than witnessing the creation of a portal.

Bravo really doesn’t get it. But he can’t say he’s not happy about it.

Good riddance.

~*~

“How’s it looking?” Bravo asks, straining to see without leaving his redstone ore block.

Phantonym makes a noncommittal noise. “Still not strong enough.”

In their search for the perfect power source, they’ve decided to start simple. Redstone torches and levers weren’t enough, so now they’ve moved on to a full redstone block, hooked up to the frame with a bit of dust. After that wasn’t sufficient, they hooked up multiple redstone blocks around the portal before finally just building a complete frame around it. But it seems even that isn’t providing the power they need to keep the portal open for more than a couple seconds.

“Alright,” Atlas says, “tear it out. Cross redstone blocks off the list.”

Bravo steps off the ore block with a sigh. “Well, what now?”

“Hey,” Tyrannicide says thoughtfully, scanning his notepad, “Patho said that redstone ore is more powerful than the mined stuff, right? What if we…?”

~*~

“Hit the deck!”

The light inside the portal frame is swirling madly now, almost violently as the air fills with an electric humming. Bravo dives behind a lab bench just as an ear-splitting boom shakes the entire lab.

Once everything is still and quiet, Bravo carefully peeks his head back out. His stomach drops.

There’s now a large crater where their entire portal machine used to be. Everything’s gone; the circuits, the data processor, the hoppers. All that’s left is the obsidian frame, floating above the newly-formed hole as concrete blocks and miscellaneous redstone items litter the ground- including the redstone ore block they used to try and power it.

“Damn it,” H8R swears. “Overloaded the circuit.”

Phantonym rounds on Tyrannicide with a furious snarl. “You idiot!”

“I was just-”

“Stop it,” Atlas interrupts sharply, glowering at them from behind his shades. “We knew this was a possibility. Go get another copy of the blueprints, we need to rebuild.”

‘I’m in hell,’ Bravo thinks. ‘I’m literally in hell.’

~*~

“And now, we- we’ve gotta do all this work to find the perfect power source to keep the portal open. Not too much, not too little, but just right. Can’t use any kinda mob power because that can fluctuate, and if we’re off by even one tick the whole thing will collapse. After all the years of research that went into this project, the last step is just to power the dang thing and it’s taking forever!”

Clear hums, attention completely focused on the flying machine he’s working on. “Mmm, yeah, sounds tricky.”

“And- and the worst part,” Bravo continues, angrily pacing back and forth, “is that I’d only need it open for a couple of seconds to get back home! But because of this stupid deal with Atlas, I have to hang around until it’s stable enough for them to track down Tango.”

“Track down Tango?” Clear repeats, quirking a brow. He snorts. “Well, that’s really quite simple. Tango Tek’s in the south wing, innit?”

Bravo stops pacing. “What?”

“The blaze farm,” Clear says, squinting at one of the observers. “S’what Atlas said, anyhow. Now uh, d’ya mind handing me that-”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up. A blaze farm?” Bravo whirls around, kneeling beside Clear and grabbing his shoulders. “You guys don’t have a blaze farm here, Atlas said the spawning conditions weren’t right for them.”

“For who?” Clear asks absently.

“For blaze!”

“What blaze?” 

“Wh- I dunno!” Bravo pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. This is why he doesn’t often hang around Clear. “You said something about blaze, and- and Tango, and the south wing-”

“The south wing?” Clear makes a dismissive noise. “Oh, that’s under renovation.”

Bravo pauses. “... still? I… huh.”

He remembers being told the south wing was under renovation when he first got to Hels Tek, years ago. He didn’t think much of it at the time. But he can’t imagine what sort of renovations would take so long to complete, for a facility as well-supplied and well-staffed as Hels Tek.

That’s… suspicious.

Clear coughs into his sleeve. “Right. Now uh, would ya mind handin’ me that piston?”

~*~

Bravo stands in front of the door to the south wing, hesitating.

Squinting through the slats in the door, he can see the hallway beyond it entirely unchanged from the last time he stood here, years ago. The uneasy feeling in his stomach grows stronger with every passing minute. But really, he’s not the one in the wrong here; if Atlas is keeping something hidden from him, after the years they’ve spent working together, it can’t be for any innocent reason. He tightens his grip on his ID keycard, taking a steadying breath, before swiping it into the dispenser.

The keycard is quickly spat back out from under the floor, but the iron door doesn’t open.

Oh, that’s a bad sign. He doesn’t have access to this doorway. Swallowing, Bravo puts the keycard away and pulls out his pickaxe. He knows there’s redstone in the walls that’ll notify the security system if any door is broken, but he doesn’t have a choice. He’ll have to be quick.

Bravo breaks down the door, hastily placing it back up behind him before darting down the hallway. There are more iron doors lining the hall on either side; he quickly peers through these only to find them empty. Moving on, he finally stops at the final door at the end of the hallway.

There’s a sign next to this one that reads, ‘Tango Tek.’

Bravo’s heart is hammering against his ribcage. This is his last chance to back out, to claim that he was just curious but didn’t see anything besides empty rooms. To go back to their tenuous partnership, rife with tension and unspoken words, fighting to keep his head above the choppy water.

He lifts his pickaxe.

The room beyond the door is dimly lit by a couple carelessly placed torches, flickering against the checkered floor. Three of the walls are completely bare. The last one, facing Bravo, is acting as a facade for some sort of redstone contraption.

It’s a small glass enclosure, just big enough for a single player to stand in. The floor is made of soul sand, from which vines of wither roses sprout and curl haphazardly within the glass chamber. Among them are two short chains, as if broken, that hang limply at either side. The glass itself is stained with a dry splatter of something dark. There’s a dispenser embedded at one side, and a drained respawn anchor on the other. Three hoppers are arranged above the chamber, presumably connected to long hopper lines hidden behind the wall.

It hits Bravo suddenly. He’s looking at a farm; a kind of farm the likes of which he’s never seen before. But Clear had said there was a blaze farm-

“Well, well, well.”

Bravo whirls around, swapping his pickaxe for his sword.

Atlas is standing in the doorway with his arms folded neatly behind him, a wide smile fixed on his face. The light from the hallway behind him reflects in his shades, obscuring his eyes from view, his shadow looming long across the floor.

“I figured it was only a matter of time before Dr. Clear let something slip. I do wish you had come to me first.” His tone is deathly calm. “Though I suppose it’s my fault for leaving the farm in this state.”

Bravo raises his sword. “What is this?” he demands, though his voice comes out more fearful than angry. “Explain, now!”

Atlas seems unbothered as he steps fully into the room. “This was the best blaze farm Hels had ever seen, powered by a single blaze hybrid.”

“What are you- oh.” Bravo inhales sharply. “You mean Tango. He- he was in the farm? You put him in a farm?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t been fully honest with you, Mr. Bravo,” Atlas says with a rueful grin. “You see, Tango did work here for a couple years, but he wasn’t exactly gainfully employed. It took much trial and error, but eventually we were able to construct a fully automatic and extremely efficient blaze farm, just in the space you see here. It was a work of art, really. My crowning achievement.”

Bravo’s mind is reeling. “Tango never stole anything from Hels Tek, did he?” he realizes. “He just escaped. This whole time, you’ve been trying to track him down to catch him again, to put him back in-”

“Finally putting it all together now, are we?” Atlas hums. “Yes, the plan has always been to recapture Tango. He’s a clever devil; he waited until his respawn anchor was drained, and then drowned himself in his own blood.”

Horror seizes Bravo. He glances back at the enclosure, at that dark smear on the glass-

“What we never figured out, though,” Atlas muses, “was how he created that portal. That much of the story is true. It was solely his actions, his creation of the portal to… trade places, in a sense. I haven’t the foggiest idea how he knew about you and your connection, but clearly, he was able to utilize it. And once he had the chance, he took it.”

Bravo’s breath rings shallowly in his ears. It’s so much to take in- he never really knew how to feel about his missing counterpart. Second-hand accounts from the scientists didn’t paint the kindest picture, and he always knew Tango was responsible for getting him stranded here, but… 

“You should be happy, Mr. Bravo,” Atlas tells him earnestly. “This is good news for you. I know you’ve been worried about whether or not I’ll uphold my end of the bargain, once the portal is made. You’re worried that I’ll try to keep you here, against your will. But now I can tell you for certain that you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Oh, really?” Bravo spits. “And- and why is that?”

Atlas holds his hands up. “All I want is to get Tango back, so I can continue my work. And my work is here. My entire life’s aspirations, my purpose, is here.” His eyes flash from behind his shades. “The rest of the universe can rot for all I care. Once I have what I want, you can go home and leave this whole mess behind you, forever. You have my word.”

Bravo narrows his eyes. “Wha- why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because once we have a stable portal, you are of no further use to me,” Atlas answers cooly. “I have no reason to keep you here.”

That throws Bravo for a moment. He frowns, doubtful. “Not even as insurance? I mean, in case something happens to the portal?”

Atlas tilts his head. “To keep you here against your will is to risk you breaking out and causing further damage in retaliation. We’d also have to put in the time and effort to sustain you with virtually no benefit. No, better to let you go on your way. And in any case, I only need it open long enough to recapture Tango.”

Bravo swallows. “But if I help you catch him, he… he’ll be in that farm because of me.”

Atlas shrugs. “What does it matter? Tango is a mob hybrid- not a true player like us. Before we captured him, all he ever did was cause chaos and suffering wherever he went. At least at Hels Tek he was good for something.”

Bravo hesitates. “I don’t-”

“Besides,” Atlas continues smoothly, “it’s evident he didn’t give the same consideration to you. He took the first chance he had to switch places. For all he knew, you might’ve been a blaze hybrid as well. He had no issue sentencing you to his fate.”

It’s like a knife twisting in Bravo’s side. “You… you don’t know that,” he says, but it sounds weak even to his own ears.

Atlas gives a bitter laugh. “Oh, come now,” he says harshly. “Do you really think he’d feel any sort of loyalty to you? Why, because you happen to have some data in common? From everything you’ve seen and experienced at the hands of Hels players, do you really think we’re capable of feeling anything besides greed and spite and hatred? Oh, you are lost. You’re letting your overworld sensibilities get the better of your sound judgement.”

Atlas spreads his arms wide, black lab coat swishing around him, his grin manic. “It’s a dog-eat-dog world out here, Mr. Bravo,” he declares. “This is the nature of Hels. It always has been, and always will be. We were always going to hurt each other, to use each other- it’s how we were fucking made. There is nothing you can do to change that. Tango belongs here, and you don’t. Whatever else happens is none of your fault or concern.”

Bravo’s grip on his sword wavers. He knows he shouldn’t help Atlas. Deep down, he knows. Living in a farm must be a miserable existence for a player, one that he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

Except…

Is it really the same if the player isn’t really human? If the player is hardly more than a monster? Hels players are different, and mob hybrids even more so. Tango didn’t care about what would happen to Bravo when he swapped their places, didn’t care that he’d be stranding Bravo in this terrible prison forever. If he cared, he would’ve come for Bravo by now. But he wouldn’t risk his own safety, his own freedom, in order to save Bravo.

So why should Bravo? Why should he risk his one chance to go home just to protect an evil doppelgänger who couldn’t care less about him? Why should he have to keep suffering in this world as punishment for crimes he didn’t commit?

Tango’s had nearly ten years outside of Hels- ten years that he stole from Bravo. There’s no getting those back. But Bravo can make sure it ends here; he can finally right this wrong and get back to his life.

“Now,” Atlas says lowly, having once again regained his composure. He looks at Bravo over the brim of his shades. “Are you going to help me open a portal, or not?”

Bravo takes a final look at the empty farm. Then he puts his sword away.

“I’m in.”

~*~

Bravo stares at the portal in shocked silence.

It’d only taken a few more days of testing for them to find the right power source. Blaze powder, of all things. Now that they aren’t hiding the existence of their nearly-infinite blaze rod stockpile from Bravo, Atlas suggested they try it. And lo and behold, it turned out to give off the perfect amount of power.

They’ve set up a circuit of glass tubing around the portal frame, inside of which the blaze powder flows along in a steady stream. The constant movement provides endless updates to the portal, preventing it from ever catching up to the fact that it shouldn’t exist.

The portal ignited right away, lighting up with a mixture of red, yellow, and green. The colors are holding constant rather than shifting and changing like they did in prior attempts, and Bravo can feel with certainty that Tango lies somewhere beyond it.

“Okay, Mr. Bravo,” Atlas murmurs, watching the portal intently. “Go ahead.”

Holding his breath, Bravo steps off the redstone ore block. The portal doesn’t change, colors still lazily swirling about in its frame. He lets out a sigh of relief.

Atlas nods. “Alright, shut it off.”

Tyrannicide gawks at him. “But it’s stable-”

“Now.”

He quickly shuts the portal off, hitting the button that pulls the redstone block back out of the circuit. The signal dies, and the portal extinguishes.

Atlas rounds on Tyrannicide with a tight grin. “Need I remind you that we don’t know who else is in the world that Tango’s currently inhabiting? The last thing we need is one of them to discover the portal sitting idly. We’d completely lose our advantage.”

“Right. Sorry, sir,” Tyrannicide mutters.

Bravo stares longingly at the unlit portal frame. It was right there. He could’ve reached out and touched it…

“Chin up, Mr. Bravo,” Atlas says mildly, putting a hand on Bravo’s shoulder. “Now the final preparations can begin. Everyone, take the rest of the night off. Meet me in the conference room first thing tomorrow morning to discuss our plan of attack.”

“Yes, sir.”

Atlas looks at Bravo out of the corner of his eye, smiling. “You’ll be home soon.”

Bravo nods. “Yeah, I know.”

~*~

“Are you ready?” Atlas asks, his quiet voice almost lost in the anxious chatter of the lab.

Bravo exhales slowly. “Yeah.”

“Have everything?”

“Yup.” Bravo’s checked his inventory no less than five times in the last three minutes.

“Remember the plan?”

“In my sleep.” Like they haven’t run through it enough times over the last few days.

“Good. Said your goodbyes?”

Bravo snorts. “Oh, yeah, sure. It was super heartfelt. Tears were shed.”

“Mmm.” Atlas is unamused. “You know, I recall a certain blaze hybrid liked to use sarcasm, too…”

“Not helping.”

“Just stick to the plan, and everything will be fine. Once you step through this portal, you never have to return to this place ever again. Help us with this one thing, and we’ll be out of your hair forever.”

“I know. Let’s- let’s get a move on, huh?” 

“Very well.” Atlas lifts his voice to address the rest of the room. “Attention, everyone. We’re activating the portal now. Everyone in formation. Yes, yes, you too- no, you’re following Dr. Tyrannicide in, remember? No, not you- you’re all with Dr. Phantonym. There you go.”

Bravo makes a noncommittal noise. “Not instilling a lotta confidence…”

Atlas gives him a dry look. “Alisker didn’t select them for their intelligence, but they’ll serve us well when it comes to dealing with Tango.”

“Right.”

Atlas turns away. “Dr. H8R, start the countdown, if you please.”

“Yes, sir. Portal launch in ten… nine… eight-”

“Oh shit. Oh fuck.” It’s starting to sink in. Bravo’s leaving- he’s really, really leaving Hels.

“-seven… six-”

“Having second thoughts?” Atlas asks, his tone almost teasing.

“- five…”

Bravo scoffs. “What, you kidding? I can’t-”

“... four… three-”

“-wait to get out of here.”

“- two…” 

Atlas hums. “About time, isn’t it?”

“... one.”

“You’re telling me,” Bravo breathes.

“Initiate.”

H8R presses the button. The piston extends, pushing the redstone block into the circuit. Bravo’s signal courses along the redstone line like it has every other time they tested this, filtering through the data processor and sending coordinates to the portal.

The frame ignites. A familiar tricolor light floods the room; swirls of red, yellow, and green. A hushed silence falls over the room as Bravo slowly, carefully, steps off the redstone ore block. The portal holds- of course it does, they’ve tested it enough. He faces the portal, heart pounding, tears inexplicably gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Good luck, Mr. Bravo,” Atlas says with a smile.

Bravo takes a deep breath and steps into the portal.

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, a player steps out of a portal.

The sunlight is nearly blinding. For a second all he can do is stand there, blinking, one arm braced on the obsidian frame behind him as his eyes slowly adjust. The portal’s still stable, he notes absently; on this side, the light inside the frame is blood red.

He takes in his surroundings. He’s standing in some kind of field- wheat, he realizes belatedly. It’s been so long since he’s seen this much wheat. It’s growing along rolling hills that are otherwise covered in lush green grass, occasionally dotted with great big oak trees. The blue sky above him is peppered with fluffy white clouds. A gentle breeze plays with his hair, and the sun is shining high above him.

It’s beautiful.

He can hear animals nearby; he turns his head and sees a pasture filled with cows, another with sheep and goats. There’s one with pigs, and a little coop with clucking coming from inside. Somewhere nearby, a horse neighs loudly. He scans the horizon and sees a winding path that cuts through the wheat field, leading up to a house- some kind of modest, rustic farmhouse. A ranch, maybe.

Taking a shaky breath, he pulls out his communicator to check which world he’s on. As he does, he catches the last message just as it fades from chat.

Bravo has joined the game.

~*~

[terrestrialnoob]

Time and Information

She was walked through the halls of Bel Rev Prison by four guards down an unfamiliar passage. She was soon joined by a younger woman with blonde pigtails who was happily chatting to her escort until she saw her fellow prisoner.

“Oh my gosh! A new face!” She cheered in a heavy Brooklyn accent, “Better be careful or it’ll get blown to bits!”

The two were taken into separate rooms and there was a sudden jolt of horror at the chair in the center of the room. It looked far too familiar, straps and gaps for easy access to specific parts of the body – the soft, weak parts. It was similar to something she’d once made when she was younger, dumber, and too scared of the unknown – no, too scared of being wrong about the unknown to see what was right in front of her. She struggled against the guards, but one punched her in the gut and she was forcefully strapped down into the chair. She was warned not to move before there was a sharp pain at the back of her neck. She sat frozen as something was forced under her skin, she could feel it anchoring into bone. After that, she was unstrapped and furiously asked what they’d done to her. “They’ll explain it soon enough.”

She was lead out of the surgical room and into a large concrete room, with 2 metal crates. She spotted the girl from earlier standing next to one of the crates. She looked up at her from pulling on a red and black diamond patterned leotard over fishnet leggings. The girl waved and shouted, “You made it!”

She waved back to the blonde then one of the guards lead her to the other crate and opened it. Her eyes stared to tear at the sight of her old aqua jumpsuit. There were also her goggles, utility belt, respirator mask, and a handful of non-compacted weapons.

She followed the implicit instruction to change into her jumpsuit, and it felt like putting on her real skin on again. It had been so long, she was starting to see silver in her auburn hair that had grown so long her braid went all the way down to her back. But the suit fit, just like it always did.

“Awooga!” The girl cheered and shouted, “I’m not usually a MILF kinda gal, but you look tight.”

She almost laughed at getting catcalled by the other woman and even flexed her arm to show off her prison muscle. The two were soon lead to a new room and she saw three other non-guards in the room, all in their own colorful costume. A large man had on a bear-skin cloak over body armor while another seemed to be dressed up like an airline pilot. A humanoid tiger creature was also there, they were already wearing a sleeveless Chinese-style martial arts uniform.

“Boomer!” The girl shouted and waved at the airline pilot and he smiled and greeted her in turn.

“It’s good to see you Harley,” He said with an Australian accent, “who’s your friend?”

Before she could answer, a door slammed open. A woman entered; thick and sturdy who held herself like a pillar of The Acropolis, like if she fell, the whole of civilization would fall with her. At her side was a man dressed up in his own custom red, silver, and black body armor.

The woman stopped and glared at the prisoners like they were less than human and took time to memorize all their inhumanity before she spoke, “Ladies, gentlemen. For those who don’t know, I am Amanda Waller, head of Task Force X, an off the books strike team of convicts used as expendable agents working for the U.S. Government. You are now members of Task Force X. Succeed in your mission, and you’ll get time off your sentences. Any questions?”

“A few, ma’am,” She rose her hand.

Waller raised her eyebrow and nodded, but before she could ask, the man in the bear skin shouted, “The Bear fight for Mother Russia, not U.S. Pigs!” His accent was thick and he stomped his heavy boots up to Waller, towering over her in an attempt to intimidate. “I will not work for you.”

Waller glared up at him and waved at the door behind her, “Be warned, there’s a small explosive in your neck, and if you do any little thing I don’t like, your head will be blown clean off. Take one step out that door, and you’re dead.”

The Russian growled at her, then pushed past her. He took one confident step through the door - the explosion was bright but quiet, and eviscerated the man’s head in seconds.

Waller turned back to the others, “Did that answer any of your questions?”

“A few yes,” She smiled and gently rubbed her neck where the small lump was indicating which of her questions had been answered. Then she continued, much to the horror of the Australian. “Are the terms of this – arrangement negotiable?”

Waller answered before she even finished, “You can’t refuse.”

She nodded her head, “I assumed as much. But, there’s something I want more than time off my sentence.”

“Oh?” Waller gave her a scrutinizing look, the kind that a woman who’s always looking for a better deal has.

“It’s about my son. Last I saw him, he was being experimented on in a government lab. The thing I want is unredacted copies of the files. I want to know Every. Single. Thing. any research lab anywhere has ever done to my son. And his current location.” Her voice shifted from relatively polite to absolutely deadly; almost like she now blamed everything the government has ever done wrong on Waller as a representative. The man next to Waller seemed to flinch, but the two women didn’t break eye contact.

“Might be difficult, given that most of the facilities that would have that information were destroyed. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?” Waller stared her down, or at least tried to. There was silence, and for a moment several people in the room expected a head to explode. But then Waller said, “Do the mission, and I’ll see what I can get from the guys in white.”

The woman who stood up to The Acropolis smiled dangerously as she said, “I’m sure a woman of your standing and reach can get her hands into any government office.”

Waller smiled back, “You flatter me, Ms. Fenton.”

“Doctor Fenton,” She corrected, “One doesn’t lose their education simply because they’re imprisoned.”

[nuggetofthesea]

Chapter: "The Dark Witch's warning"

The Dark Witch, they called her. Known throughout Hyper city for many reasons. Transformation services, potions, her eerie appearance, the tower in which she resides, but more importantly, her affinity for monsters.

Creatures of the night, eldritch horrors, spirits, the witch has a fascination with them all. Often labeled as dangerous just for existing, sometimes actually dangerous, but always interesting.

That witch is Iris. Iris is hyper city's transformation witch and has a Fondness of all things supernatural and arcane. One of the darkmage nugget system, famous for running a studio that houses a lab underneath. Years before Animal HRT hit hyper city, It was when the original owner of the body, Ashe offered herself as an experiment to the lab owner, the witch appeared. And the rest of us.

Ashe, the original host. Former human. Now kitsune. Runs the darkmage nugget studio. She now has the ability to change her shape at any time. Uses it to be a fox.

Iris, the dark witch with a skill for energy manipulation and transformation. Needs her magic to transform unlike Ashe. But now owns the body after Ashe couldn't feel connected to it.

Aqua, an elf with strong connection to the sea and a desire to write. Trapped in nightmares for 15 years before the experiments. Leaving her a walking shadow at times.

Chaos, a destructive gremlin hellbent on causing mayhem. Trouble find us and she is the first to step up to the fight.

Mira, A crystal fairy construct capable of multiplying herself up to 30 identical copies. Organizes things in our head.

Aria, former strong silent type, now basically a puppy with muscles. Sweet, but still willing to protect everyone.

We were always a presence in Ashe's head since she was young. But the experiments brought us to the front. 6 souls inhabiting the body of the dark witch. When we aren't in the studio, or around town, we reside in Iris' tower just off the park in hyper city. a round tower that sits in the middle of a small yard fenced off with stone. A witch hat made of bricks covers the top of the tower, that overlooks the city and the surrounding woods.

Iris in particular though, found herself with a curiosity she needed to satisfy. The monsters and mysteries of hyper city. Is there more too them? More than meets the eye? In some instances, she also found herself weirdly attracted by the monsters that roam the city. Finding beauty where the rest of the world shuns away. This led to her often interacting with those cast out. Those who aren't human. And hyper city was the perfect place to satiate that desire for the unknown.

A city in the center of realities, in the middle of all possibilities. Iris soon was going to make the possibilities hers. She was often seen making deals or helping out the various creatures and horrors she came across. Earning her the title of… "The Dark Witch" as most humans began to fear her. At least until they know her. Then they realize, magic aside, She's actually very friendly when she wants to be. And even helped in making the animal HRT her friends have utilized to transform their bodies to their will.

This though was the move that led to this encounter.

One particularly stressful day, Ashe had left the studio to head home. But was on her way to stop for some food and anything heavily caffeinated. (Required for all the things we do).

As she turned a corner she found her heart suddenly sinking. every nerve in her body in shock. Frozen in fear as the fur on her paws and tails stood on end. Something was coming. Quickly, Ashe began to call to Iris. This was her specialty after all. Iris quickly came to front. Taking a moment to make the body hers again as she wasn't used to using Ashe's paws or her tails. Summoning her staff, she questioned what was around that corner.

Only to see a sad looking eldritch creature. Keeping an ear out, she could hear people around calling the being a freak or hiding in fear. they looked ready to cry. A quick read of her energy and Iris knew she wasn't a threat. But to everyone else, She looked like the most horrifying thing they could see.

Not iris. iris had the ability to read aura's by concentrating on a person's energy. And hers was all over the place. But Iris recognized a small hint in the overwhelmingly powerful aura of fear. Some of that energy, was hers. Twisted and distorted by some outside forces, but this definitely the result of the Animal HRT tablets. But wherever she got these ones, they had very little of the original left, and it was extremely powerful.

"FREAK! MONSTER! get out of here!" was shouted at her from those she passed. And iris was growing quite tired of this. using her staff, gem glowing on the end strongly, she called on a circle with a single word.

"Mute" Iris said as the spell was cast. Suddenly, the sounds of the crowd were drowned out. All went silent. Though they still moved. A temporary effect, but just enough for them to take notice of Iris just there. A glare from the glowing yellow eye piercing the gaze of the crowd as they pieced together what had happened and ran.

"Hey. You okay?" Iris asked the horror before her.

No response as she was a bit confused as to what was happening. What was with this witch? even magical beings tend to fear her.

"Don't know where you are heading. But that had to get pretty annoying. I'm Iris. your name is?"

…

She began to speak up. Looking to figure this situation out.

"Mars. Alright. What's your angle."

Not even realizing the distortion she was doing with her face and the accidental piercing stare with her eyes.

"I'm a witch who can see into your very being past the admittedly strong fear aura you emit. But beyond that, I have a pretty big interest both in what you are, and where you got your humanity removal treatment."

"WHAT!? How do you-" "My energy is all over that fear aura. but you definitely got that from somewhere i haven't given that info to. you don't have to talk here, especially with others watching.. But know I am someone you can turn to and want to support you."

Iris reaches into the air and snaps her fingers. in a small flame a card appears in her hands.

"My tower is just past the woods in the park. if you ever need help, look me up and use that card to come to my tower."

"I'll consider it. But for now, I need to get going. I'm running late as is." Mars responds. not knowing what to make of this conversation and wanting to leave it as soon as possible.

"That's fine. But I do need you to know…" Iris' eyes turn to mars her one eye showing more piercing than ever. "Something latched on to a spell i created."

Perhaps you know what happened to make it so, but there are probably eyes on you. The tower is blocked from all outside eyes. No matter how powerful. If you need help, Do not hesitate to seek it."

Iris then begins to walk away. Leaving more questions than answers with Mars. Iris did always like being a little cryptic. Not many know what is going on in her head. But one thing she always takes seriously is when someone messes with her spells.

End Chapter

----------------------------------------------------------------

I wanted to do more to establish Iris. And Mars' ( @dawning-mars ) latest page brought a few ideas I've wanted to write down for a few days now. One moment of "Why would ancient texts spawn a modern pill bottle" thoughts later, this story was born. Had fun writing again as usual. ^-^

[dreamwatch]

You Know, This Used To Be Fun

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #13 - Prompt: Sex, Drugs and Rock & Roll | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: drug abuse, alcohol abuse, mention of rehab, mentioned overdose | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Angst, hurt/no comfort (sorry!), a whistle stop tour of the Sunset Strip through the eyes of someone who has never been there, stream of consciousness, run on sentences, Eddie's head is a whirlwind.

I SWEAR I will write something fun for tomorrow, I promise you!

Title from Success Story by The Who

****

They make it to LA in Eddie’s piece of shit van and Jeff’s slightly less piece of shit station wagon, and it’s… well. It’s something.

They find a motel to hole up in before they plan their next move, because they have no idea what they’re doing, nothing is planned, they just said goodbye to everyone in Hawkins and ran, and now here they are.

They need gigs so they go hunting, and hair metal is still fucking hanging on by its polished finger nails, but it’s not just hair metal on The Strip, fuck Metallica played here. So they head there and. Jesus Christ.

Jeff gets a job at Tower Records, Gareth is waiting tables in some restaurant, and Matty works in a gas station. And Eddie, well he asked about bar work but the thing is… the thing is he’s not comfortable with people yet. He gets in his head now since Hawkins. But he finds a job as a janitor and it’s solitary enough to suit him. 

It’s 1989 and they’re going to be rock stars

****

They get a gig at The Whisky. They’re the opening, opening, opening act, the doors have barely opened, it’s Thursday and Matt and Gareth had to call out sick (and they’re praying no one from their jobs like metal enough to come to The Whisky on a Thursday). It’s 7pm. and there’s barely anyone there, a couple of blonde girls and blond boys and a fuck-ton of Aqua-net; this isn’t them. This isn’t their scene. But the crowd comes later and now there’s Metallica and Judas Priest T-shirts wandering around and they slot into place.

When they play The Whisky again they’re the opening, opening act and it’s 8pm and people are coming to see them.

After the show they wander up to the Rainbow and they drink away the last of their money, and watch girls making out with guys whose faces they’ve seen in Metal Edge.

And they play their gigs and they work their jobs and it’s 1990 and one day that’s going to be them.

****

They travel up to San Francisco for some shows, getting on the bill with some other thrash bands. It blows their minds.

They get on a tour to the East Coast; they have to give up their jobs but that’s fine, because Jeff is a step away from becoming the manager and staying there, and Gareth hates his fucking job, and Matty got held up in a robbery a few months back and it scared the shit out of all of them, so fuck it. And it’s amazing, what he remembers of it, the shows are amazing, but the after was amazing too? He thinks? His memory is spotty.

And then, and then, well fuck if they haven’t been signed. Well fuck if they’re not in a studio recording an actual album, not like that shitty demo they did in Indy. Well fuck if it’s not being released.

The drugs in LA are better somehow. Like, Hawkins had baby drugs, like junior training wheels drugs, but the drugs in LA are for the grown ups. When they play shows now they’re the main attraction and now people are giving them booze and coke and pills, whatever they want, they don’t even to ask. Then they’re drinking in the Rainbow and girls are climbing on their laps, and he’s not uncomfortable but he’s not strictly comfortable either. But Jeff leaves, and Gareth walks away with some girl attached to him and Matty’s next to him with one on his lap and one nuzzled up beside him, and Eddie pushes his one off and says ‘rain check’ like he’s ever going to see her again.

The album is released and it sells, it’s in that Tower Records where Jeff nearly became a manager, and they go in there every day moving it to the front of the ‘C’s. And there’s less copies every day because people are buying it.

It’s 1991 and they’re about to be rock stars.

****

The album takes off and they get support slots on bigger tours, bands they know, whose albums are sitting in Eddie’s trailer back in Hawkins. They’re playing five thousand seat venues, and one day he sees a Corroded Coffin banner in the crowd, and fuck, it’s emotional you know? It’s what they always dreamed about.

There’s another album, and money, and then they have a headline tour across the states, Jesus Christ, and people buy them drinks, and they give them drugs, and even though they have money now they don’t have to pay for a goddamn thing. 

There are girls, but Eddie finds guys on the road, guys at truck stops, and they’re famous but they’re not, you know? So it’s cool. It’s safe.

There’s a video and it’s on Headbangers Ball.

It’s 1992 and they’re rock stars.

****

Things get fuzzy after that.

There's another album. There’s festivals in Europe, and bigger tours, arenas, more guys but none of them are him, and then another album, and the drugs are good in LA, you know, but actually it’s the drink he prefers, who knew? But that’s good because Gareth and Matty prefer coke so more for them. Jeff dabbles for a while, but he gets married. She cleans him up. Eddie hates her.

There’s another album, another award, another tour, and they travel all over the world and Steve Harrington finally comes to LA, after years of Eddie asking, just as friends, you know? And Eddie drinks, because he can, and there’s another album but he doesn’t look for guys anymore because he belongs to Steve now, and there’s another tour, and Gareth ODs, but fucking shit he’s ok, and Matty cleans up, and Eddie drinks and he drinks and he drinks until Steve says “I love you but you need to stop”.

It’s 1998.

He’s thirty-two, he's an alcoholic and he’s about to go to rehab.

But hey, he’s a rock star, right?

[valorxdrive]

Gotta speak my truth.

A reason why the passion has dwindled on this blog, why I've sought other avenues. It hasn't really been the drought of content as much as the issue in what's already here. In short, it's the new angle of SQ's direction with the KH series that leaves me uncertain.

It all begins with a game called KH3, moreso, how it really feels like it was a title that didn't care about itself in terms of a grand finale or the fans who wanted a solid conclusion before a new chapter.

I genuinely dislike it with a whole lot of my heart.

I'll dip into why down below! Stick around for the ride if ya like.

I've sat here across the years genuinely contemplating it. Seeing people heavily defend it (myself too at one point), though who abhorred it for seeing things sooner (or just took it too far.) Had discussion with friends and it truly clicked to me what bothered me so much with the KH3 title.

It genuinely does not give a fuck. In a bizarre way, this is the first time I've seen a video game, even with it's complicated history that's just so utterly prepared to be finished with itself.

What struck me the most about this is how done it was with dealing with Xehanort as an antagonist. Bringing no connection with him to the worlds, or to the main cast, how he was simply relegated to the hurdle that had to be surpassed. This in kind extends to the heroes dealing with him too, that remains connected. So that brings the question, what did warrant all of their attention?

Verum Rex and Union X. Two aspects which are vividly 'new'-, the more exciting, new grounds to no longer have to bring concerns with the current epic that was being made.

The way these things were shoo'd in at the expense of the characters and the wonder of the KH world really miffs me. So much of the actual effort was made in turning KH3 into a springboard FOR these concepts, the new beginning and it allows for the keyblade war to be entrenched in a piss poor execution.

Another aspect I'd love to really dive on, being a Sora blog, is Sora's particular journey. This holds a firm eye towards the Disney worlds and mixing it with the cast of characters in there, and the KH originals. You can entirely omit the Disney journey and have literally nothing change. From the moment you hop from Yen Sid's tower, to the moment you go and save Aqua, this part of the game from the story perspective is entirely pointless. To those who care about the story. To those who CARE about disney 1 for 1's (like singing Let it go in new graphics fml), who are more concerned about the shiny new Verum Rex (vs XIII reboot) or the perspective of the Union X things, it'd be a fine enough meal.

I want to actually dig into why however. It's a simple angle, they don't care about his current goals in lieu of bringing shiny new worlds in akin to jingling car keys. The goal of finding a means to bring Roxas back, and in order to draw back the Power of Waking that found itself lost in DDD.

Both of these don't require external adventures. It needs insight, it needs the retracting of old grounds, and I'm damn sure that the perspective of Disney was not going to allow for that. So on this front unless a heavy push was warranted, I genuinely wouldn't of seen it changing. How are you going to find clues for Roxas in Arendelle for example?

Unless Sora has more Heart related ventures after each world, what in the fuck was this roaming going to do to unlock the power of waking again? A journey to find something important in KH is usually coupled by heavy character development, a way they come to re-look at how they see the surrounding world, their situation and themselves. The fact that a completely unrelated situation from Sora, despite his caring nature was the trigger to unlocking this.

For Ventus's disembodied heart to say it was always there was a pitchfork through the heart of this.

The fact that they've always said that recovering this power was essential for saving Aqua, when you literally can hop in and kick her butt, prompt no connection of ripping corruption away or anything via the Power of Waking says more than enough. You genuinely see that by the end of a lot of main cast characters being nods to the audience, or bots made for exposition, they've outright abandoned these concepts before your eyes.

I genuinely could continue on but this has become bloated.

For the journey for the current cast, the premise of KH3 is perfect as an adventure and inevitable showdown, but the execution is atrocious (the raw lack of opposing parties facing each other, showcasing the threat of Xehanort set to end all reality), and would genuinely require an entire game overhaul. Again, the execution. This extends to so much of the story decisions, to a LOT of the gameplay (whole dif can of worms) on top of that. I've really needed to recognize this and really have my genuinely lens set on it, no other opinions diluting my opinion on the matter.

I can understand why people who KH3 has the laughing stock/joke of the series.

Recognizing this has felt refreshing to me. It gives me a more distinct image that down the line, I really don't mind taking a canon divergent perspective at all. The mythos of KH and so much it has built is a fever dream of the best proportions, I however, genuinely want to carry on that I tenderly love which has always been the try and true flame of this series. I won't let nostalgia blind me, nor the ~future excitement~ either.

My nostalgia and my value as a fan is worth something to me. Nomura and co genuinely have to begin cooking again for me to gamble in that corner again.

[eluvisen]

All I See Is Fire Reflected In Your Eyes - Chapter 4

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Characters: Karlach/fem!Tav

Rating: E

Summary: She skims along Karlach’s skin until her lips meet the scar tissue spreading out from her breastbone. One of countless hurts, immortalised on her body. Not a part of her has been left untouched by Avernus.

By the time Rhodeia is finished, there won’t be a part of Karlach left untouched by her.

—

Navigating the complexities of physical intimacy between two people who haven't been touched in a long time.

Rhodeia doesn’t let go of Karlach’s hand as a Harper leads them to a room in Moonlight Towers cleared for use. Between the sweat and gore between their fingers, their hand-holding is neither comfortable or sweet, but it’s the only thing keeping her upright and moving after the battle with Ketheric Thorm. Without the lure of a hot bath and Karlach’s company, she would have sat down and congealed on the ground floor.

The quarters on this floor are basic enough, with a half-scrubbed stain on the floor that’s easy enough to ignore. But as much as Rhodeia wants to sit down and never stand back up, she and Karlach search the room for any hidden cultists, then drag a dresser in front of the door.

At last, they stand together in silence. A miserable pall of rot and blood and unholy fervour drapes over the chamber, entombed in the tower’s cold stone, soaked with a malice that cannot be scrubbed out. A small window allows a thin blade of shadow-dark sky to be visible, and for the first time since they emerged in this cursed land, the horizon is growing lighter.

Karlach squeezes her hand. This close, the temperature between them begins to rise. “Hope you’re ready for the hottest bath of your life, soldier.”

Rhodeia’s legs ache as she takes a step towards the tub half-hidden behind a privacy screen. Not just her legs—her shoulders, her spine, her eyes. Her mind. She all but drops to her knees beside the bathtub, pain shooting through her as they connect with the stone floor. With one hand curled around the rim of the tub, Rhodeia calls the last shreds of her magic.

“Aqua pura.”

A grey-bellied cloud swirls into being, dumping enough water to fill the tub, and then a quick fire bolt has steam curling off the surface.

Behind her, Karlach says, “You’re putting me out of a job, you know.”

“Not at all. I can’t stand up without help.”

[Read on AO3]

[schnuron]

Electronic albums I like from the 90s

Talking the 90s might be a lengthy way to explain in some segments why I chose these records. While grunge was getting some attention, there were underground music going on like death metal, black metal, techno, electronic music, etc.

This post is the same premise as the last one.

1990: Depeche Mode - Violator (my fave album) The Shamen - En-Tact Leather Strip - Science for the Satanic Citizen Nitzer Ebb - Showtime Angelo Badalamenti - Twin Peaks OST

1991: Lords of Acid - Lust Front 242 - Tyranny For You Delerium - Stone Tower Biosphere - Microgravity LFO - Frequencies 808 State - ex:el Massive Attack - Blue Lines

1992: Front Line Assembly - Tactical Neural Implant Aphex Twin - Selected Ambient Works 85-92 Vangelis - 1492 OST KMFDM - Money Go West - Indian Summer Jeff Greinke - Lost Terrain

1993: Polygon Window - Surfing On Sine Waves Depeche Mode - Songs of Faith and Devotion F.U.S.E. - Dimension Intrusion

1994: Vangelis - Blade Runner Underworld - dubnobasswithmyheadman Massive Attack - Protection Aphex Twin - Selected Ambient Works Volume II Autechre - Amber

1995: The Frozen Autumn - Pale Awakening Aphex Twin - …I Care Because You Do

1996: burger/ink - Las Vegas Underworld - Second Toughest in the Infants

1997: Depeche Mode - Ultra (my fave album) The Frozen Autumn - Fragments of Memories The Prodigy - The Fat of the Land Information Society - Don't Be Afraid KMFDM - Symbols Savage Garden - Savage Garden Aqua - Aquarium

1998: Plastikman - Consumed UNKLE - Psyence Fiction Bola - Soup Madonna - Ray of Light Massive Attack - Mezzanine VNV Nation - Praise the Fallen

1999: Underworld - Beaucoup Fish VNV Nation - Empires Nine Inch Nails - The Fragile Forest Silence - Winter Circle

[yveltalreal]

People in "evil" teams — the more serious ones, anyways — often have immunity from law enforcement due to various reasons. Team Rocket, for instance, has its fingers in both the government and police. If I was arrested, I'd be in and out with a clean record in a day.

fascinated by most of your evil teams still having their fingers in the police. if you got arrested for being in rocket here thats a permanent stain on your record. while a lot of evil team events absolutely probably have some covering up going on with them ( I REFUSE TO BELIEVE CYRUS JUST. DISSAPEARED. CHAMPION CYNTHIA WHERE DID YOU PUT HIM WHAT DO YOU MEAN HES "GONE" DID YOUR GARCHOMP GIVE HIM FUCKING CEMENT SHOES WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED THEREEEE) team rocket no longer has much influence. none of them really do. at least not the real well known ones.

rockets still around but its remnants who are desperately trying to keep it alive moving from abandoned warehous to abandoned warehouse every time theres a bust. tried a second radio tower take over a couple years back, literally didnt even make it past the front desk before cops were called on suspicious individuals attempting to break in. team plasmas in a similar boat of like. tiny remnants skittering around with no real leadership or influence anymore. like theres technically 3 or 4 rockets and nowadays and i think its a similar thing with plasma because they just are people who dont want to let it all go and have no real plan or leadership. they cannot pull strings with the government anymore tjere is no strings.

flare, macro cosmos, and galactic were like. corporations. theyve kinda fizzled out. i think lysandre labs is technically owned by the rotomphone company now actually but dont quote me on that. galactic had a major reformation, changed their name, rebranded and everything and now theyre working to improve sinnoh infrastructure as an apology and to "realign with the original goals of the galaxy expedition team which we are named after, but with a new modern and progressive twist" and theyre doing pretty well i think. nothing super shady yet mostly cause i think theyre afraid to get blown up by the public if tjey fuck up again. macro cosmos still exists its just most of its companies and departments, and whatever were all sold off to other places or are under completely new management. while flare and galactic mighta pulled the company connections card i dont think macro cosmos ever did anything outrigjt that made it so they had to with any employees?? that i know of at least.

aether is also doing like. new shit. trying to fix their mistakes and stick mostly to conservation stuff while continuing some research into ultra space but like. monitered by the alolan government this time. i dont think people knew enough about it to ever need to pull the government connections card.

team skull, yell, and star are all officially disbanded and now its mostly just people hanging out and working to improve their communities or whatever the hell. these are less evil teams and more mild annoyance teams though. they never had that kinda power over the police anyways

magma and aqua are like. also gone mostly because after seeing what happened to hoenn in just a few hours after waking up a few gods i think they all kinda came to their senses. maxie and archie sure did so. didnt have too much connection with the government either they were literally some freaks.

theres OTHER evil teams but these are the main ones i always see get brought up as evil teams even though theres more??? like orre is still a shithole at times with corruption. depending on the group there you probably would get what ur describing. some weird shit that goes on in the ranger controlled region id have to ask my father about too.

[repptech]

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[simp999]

A New Home Ch. 25

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 2.05k

A/N: How about you guys uppercut me directly in the jaw for not updating :3

Back to the Start! Previous Next

As you make your way over to Deca Tower, you try to ignore two bickering squids. They’re louder than the people around them, and you see one with aqua ink next to them, shaking their head as they pinch the bridge of their nose. Heh. Kinda reminds you of Leo and Milo. As you get closer, you start to hear their bickering.

“The sun is not a planet!”

“I never said it was, I just said that it was edible!”

“It’d be too hot.”

Another cephalopod- one with pink tentacles - joins the chat. You hadn’t noticed them leaning up against the wall earlier.

“Just blow on it first, idiots.”

Oh, this one’s dumb, too. Maybe the one shaking their head is the only sane one. Are they a team? Eh, doesn’t matter.

You make your way into Deca Tower and stretch a bit. Not long after, the group of four walks in.

“Wouldn’t it still be spicy??”

“That’s two different kinds of hot, dummy.”

Finally, the last one speaks up.

“You know what? The sun doesn’t even exist, problem solved.”

The three others all look at them with a look of disbelief and look like they’re about to start bickering, but instead, they all crack up. Their giggles and laughs are almost contagious, and it seems to put Leo in a good mood at least, and a smile begins to grow on his face. Tasha and Milo seem to be enjoying this nonsense, too.

The one that was shaking their head earlier takes their splat roller off from where it was balancing on their shoulder, and leans on it comfortably. That one’s got messy, cut-up tentacles, it sorta looks like the Splatoon 3 style. They’re wearing a Zekko hoodie and arrow pull-ons. You’re assuming that they have fake contacts, since you don’t spot any headgear. They appear to be the leader of the group, with the way the three others sort of trail behind.

The first of the bickering pair has yellow tentacles, and appears to be an octoling. They sport a White Anchor Tee, Null Boots Replicas, and a crooked Oceanic Hard Hat. They shift their Fresh Squiffer from one hand to the other, and back again.

The other adjusts their Octoglasses as they continue to chat with the octoling. They have the same color tentacles are the first, maybe a little paler. They’re wearing a Takoroka Crazy Baseball LS, and Mint Dakroniks for their kicks. When the conversation dies down, they begin to spin their Inkbrush Nouveau around. They twist and turn it around out of boredom.

The last one, that was leaning against the wall earlier, is wearing a Squid facemask, a White shirt, and the same boots as the other octoling. They’re carrying around a Bloblober. Two squids and two octolings on the team. Hm. It’s quite nice to see how much more welcome Octopi seem to be around here, compared to back at the Plaza.

The one with messy Aqua tentacles glances over at you, then back to their teammate as they crack a joke, then back to you for a double take. They begin to walk over. Milo is about to make his way in front of you, wanting to avoid any unnecessary confrontation, but you lazily hold a hand out to block him, not worried about what may come from this.

“Hey, are you guys battling at three?”

You give them a nod, and they wave their teammates over.

“Cool! People call me Wolf, but the full name is Wolfsune… don’t call me that, though. We call this dork Silly,”

They gesture to the other inkling with lighter aqua tentacles and the inkbrush,

“The one with piss hair is Crank,”

“-Hey!”

“And then this is Beeb!” they hold use their thumb to gab at ‘Beeb’, and their other hand towards you, “Nice to meetcha!”

You raise a brow at them. They’re not from the manga, that’s for sure. Their names make that obvious. But again, it’s not like the manga focused on any teams other than the ones that went up against major characters.

Now that you get a good look at Wolf, you realize that they’re quite small. Well, shorter than most squids around, it almost makes the roller they’re holding look like a flingza-sized roller compared to them. 

That’s not the odd part, though. Despite the giant grin adorning their face, and the welcoming hand they’re holding out to you, along with the warm atmosphere, they’ve got quite a few scars littering their face. One on their left brow, chin, and under their right eye. They look tired, too. That could also just be their eye shape, though. You’re not here to judge of course, but it just seems odd. Out of place, even. Well, maybe it’s just unusual for a side character to have so much detail.

But then Crank speaks up, Wolf turns their head, and that’s when you catch it.

A golden toothpick, tucked behind their ear.

That’s really odd. You’d have to be really strong, go through the Octo expansion, along with beating inner agent 3 to get that, right? But wouldn’t they have to be an Octoling? Something isn’t adding up. 

But also, some things have been different in this world. Like how you’ve seen a couple of pieces of amiibo-exclusive gear available in the shops.

You shake your head lightly. You’re looking way too much into this. This side character shouldn’t even really matter to you. If anything, this team was just there for a little comic relief, and that’s all.

Oh, right, they were offering you a hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Wolf.”

Then a voice from behind them, Crank, pipes up,

“You ready to lose?”

“Crank! Be nice,” Silly cuts in, “but they’re asking the right questions~”

An automated voice fills the tower;

[[Players! Be ready to super jump in 30 seconds.]] 

“Best of luck! Let’s have some fun, yeah?”

Beeb calls out to you before following their teammates over to their super jumping area. It seems none of that team has any ill intent, but they seem a tad egotistcal- no, that’s wrong. They act more like the blue team. Idiots. But they might just have the skill to back it up.

Leo spins his dualies as he gets ready to jump. Milo taps the jug of his splatling, and Tasha puts away her cloth for cleaning her E-liter.

Well, it seems you’re about to find out.

The countdown for battle goes by quick, and you head right into the middle, right behind Leo. It seems the Inkbrush user was much faster though, and they manage to get a few good hits on him before backing off after seeing you. Which seemed odd, until the roller main attacks with a vertical fling from afar. It usually wouldn’t have been nearly enough damage to splat Leo, but he was already weakened, so he’s making his way back to spawn. You quickly check around and stay on guard, but you don’t see any ripples in their ink.

'Don’t tell me they both have ninja squid. Ugh, how annoying.'

But since two of them went straight for the middle, that means their base isn’t getting inked as much, right? You quickly check the map, and you see that both teams seem to play alike. The Bloblober is inking closer to the corners of the map, while the Squiffer takes the high ground and makes long lines of ink from above.

You check around once again to see if there are any trails in the ink, but that idea proves to be almost useless. You close your eyes to try and focus on your other senses. The music isn’t helping, but you can just barely hear the bubbling sound go from in front of you, to right beside you on the left. You’re about to attack when you’re sure that whoever it is is about to jump out at you, but the sound of a teammate getting splatted is heard, and you lose the bubbling sound. It seems their goal wasn’t to splat you.

You look around, confused. This sure is some odd gameplay. Cod, they sure are like the Blue Team in a way. The one that was splatted was Milo. You’re not worried, since he’ll simply use Tasha as a super-jump point as usual. As you go closer to their - seemingly unguarded- base, you hear a very unusual sound. Now, you’re used to hearing others get splatted, but this grunt of pain, along with the sound of metal clattering to the ground can only mean one thing.

Tasha’s down.

Now that causes some problems. Your teammates have no one to safely super jump to, so you hurriedly retreat in a fit of slight panic for your team. Which only gets worse as you feel a harsh jab of ink hit your shoulder blade, and you meet your teammates back at spawn.

‘No, this can’t be right. Why can’t you make sense of their positions? Where are they coming from? Where did that damned squiffer come from?! Don’t tell me-’

‘At least three of them have ninja squid.’

‘But that also means that they’re much slower. That’s it! Treat them like we would the Cyan team. Make them show themselves. Make their ninja squid useless.’

You hope that Tasha and Milo make sense of the situation, you’re not too hopeful for Leo, but oh well.

After that, the battle becomes a little bit more fair. But the opposing team always seems to be a step ahead, almost as if they know your next moves. As if they’re been studying you. They’re often waiting near just the right ledges to jump Leo, knowing which way he’ll go. Tasha’s forced to stay a little farther back. It isn’t too much of an issue given her range, but it’s still annoying.

One minute left.

The music quickens, and this is when the anxiety starts to settle in. The opposing team is winning. Even after all this training, it feels like you’ve suddenly been forced to face this brick wall. They’re only winning by maybe ten or twenty percent when you check the map, but it’s constant. Whenever you manage to get a splat, a bomb is thrown to cover the area, and the opponent has already super-jumped back into play. The squiffer player may not have lots of range, but they sure are agile.

What if your team loses?

You hesitate, and it gets you splatted.

No, no, no! You can’t let your team down! You’ve worked so hard- you’ve worked with your idols to get to this point! You can’t just get kicked out of the tournament here! It would all be useless if-

You feel a gentle pat on your back. It was Milo. Looks like he was sent back to spawn again.

He gives you a smile. It doesn’t take any words, but you know that he’s silently telling you that it’ll be alright. Even if you lose, you could always just enter another tournament, right?

Hell no.

As if you’d let Emperor get away with all his carp up until this point.

You rush into battle, with a newfound anger. Frustration bubbles up inside you as you remember the hopeless looks on the S4’s faces. As you remember how… distant Prince seemed to be.

But you freeze once you get to the middle. Tasha was doing the same. Of course, she still had her weapon pointed towards her but… you’ve never seen this before.

In front of you, on the main platform in the centre of the stage, sat all four of your opponents with their weapons down. None of them seemed to care about the battle anymore, as the one with Aqua tentacles- no, Wolf, offered you a big grin. It’s almost as if you could hear them. 

‘Go, ink up the stage. Win.’

It would have felt frustrating, even disrespectful just having your opponent sit down and give up on winning. It may have been the shock of the situation, but you decided to worry about it afterwards. You can’t exactly let a chance like this go to waste, right?

As the Buzzer blared through the stage and the winners were named, you couldn’t help but wonder;

“What the hell just happened?”

Next part

July.19.23

Also, sorry for being irrelevant but just.. look at how they turned out?? My baby?? I'm kinda happy with this one :D

Thanks for dealing with my silly shenanies, love ya'll <33

[sillywebz]

rough wip of a fic where roxas and kairi have a conversation and learn a bit more abt each other (set post melody of memory) !!

i have a lot more stuff to add but I have other things i need to be doing today :(

"I had a feeling you'd be up here,"

Roxas jumped about a foot in the air; he'd been too engrossed in his writing to notice anyone that anyone else had climbed up to the tower.

"Careful! Don't fall!" Kairi yelped, surprised that he’d been so startled.

Roxas grabbed his pen right before it rolled off the edge of the tower and disobeyed Kairi's instructions.

"Don't worry. I've learned how to keep my balance up here, but it takes some practice," 

Their first conversation flashed through his mind. Admittedly, the clock tower was not the safest choice for a hangout spot.

"What brings you here?" he asked, offering his hand to help Kairi sit down. 

Hesitantly, she took it and settled down beside him on the ledge. Roxas noticed that her hands were clenched- nails digging into palm. The same way Xion does when she's nervous. 

"You okay?"

Kairi took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze.

"Yeah. Heights just.. aren't my thing. I'd rather have the ground under my feet, that's all,”

She paused.

“But, tomorrow, I leave to go train with Aqua, so I figured I ought to visit this place again before I go,"

“Y’know, you really shouldn’t force yourself up here if you’re scared of heights. This place isn’t that special,” 

Roxas knew that statement sounded wonderfully ironic, coming from his lips.

A cloud passed in front of the sun. Kairi shivered.

"It's- the height's not everything," her voice grew soft.

Roxas looked over, concerned. Her shoulders were trembling.

"The last time I was here... was with him."

Him.

Roxas remembered how she'd walked back without him that day. Deep down, a voice he tried to ignore asked why Sora didn't feel like saying goodbye to him.

"It's… been awhile since then," Roxas stared ahead.

Kairi murmured in agreement.

The two watched the clouds roll by.

"Roxas?"

"Hm?"

"What were you writing about, when I came up here?"

"Oh, that," 

Roxas reached out to grab the notebook he'd set aside- yellow on the front, with painted stars and a thalassa shell. Xion and Namine had worked together on it, all for him. He still didn't know how to thank them.

"I was just journaling. I come up here in the afternoons when everyone's doing other things. It's a nice place to write."

Kairi nodded, pulling something from her pocket. It was a small purple journal, with a bow on the front.

"I like to write, too. Mostly poems, though. I've tried to keep a diary before, but it never stuck. I feel like I just don't remember enough to write anything," She twisted the ribbon on the cover between her fingers.

"I've been there before.”

“Really?”

“I…  think you should keep trying. Trust me, it helps. And not just with memories,"

Kairi looked up.

"It helps you… see what you feel. Sometimes, I can't understand what I'm feeling until I write it down."

"I see. I think I'm the same way with my poems," 

She went back to messing with the journal’s ribbon.

"Though, I feel like I can't write anything at all, nowadays," she whispered.

She sighed. It sounded just like Namine's.

Roxas drummed his fingers on top of his notebook, then, taking a deep breath, slowly reached into his pocket. He pulled out a fountain pen- navy, with black and silver trim- and pointed it towards Kairi.

"Take this. For you to write with. It was my first one,"

"Your first... pen?"

"Yeah."

Roxas rubbed his thumb over the cap. The motion alone brought back countless memories. He didn't know why he held onto it. It had become a habit to carry around, even after its matching journal had long been filled. He didn't use it, though. Something in him couldn't. It was from a different time, a time long gone; secretly, he felt like if he used it, it might just have the power to bring those times back.

"Back when.. I first joined the Organization... Saix gave it to me, with a journal as well,"

"Saix did?" 

She sounded confused.

"Well, Isa now, I guess. He told me that I should keep a diary, to keep track of things that happened. I didn't know what to write at first, but... it eventually became like a lifeline to me. In the beginning, I... I don't know how to describe it, but I couldn't hold on to anything. Everything would swim around me, but I think- I think writing was one of the things that saved me from… losing who I was,"

"That was... very kind of Saix."

"Huh. I guess it was.”

Kairi stared down at the pen.

"Roxas,"

Kairi looked at the boy in front of her. His face was set in a determined, almost familiar way; his eyes shone so blue, so earnestly; she couldn't bear to meet their gaze.

"I can't take something so important from you. I-"

"No." There was a storminess in his eyes as he interrupted her.

"I don't even use it anymore. It's a gift. A… thank you."

"A thank you?"

"Yes. Do you remember the first time we talked?"

He watched as Kairi closed her eyes and searched for the memory. It made him sad, when people struggled to remember things; he knew too well the pain of forgetting. He felt worse that she knew it likely as well as he did.

"I- think so. It was when I was... trying to remember S-" Her voice faded off so that she wouldn't have to finish the name.

"Yeah. You ended up finding me instead."

[cobzie]

cobzie/airy

it/that/thing 🪱 bug-gender transmasc

hello! im cobzie, you can also call me airy. im a 13 year old artist with osdd-1b (sys name: Bug Diner), adhd, hypersexuality, ptsd, anxiety, depression, and paranoia. ((as of now, only the host- airy- will be allowed to use tumblr))

i am polyamorous and taken by Blackwood, Salvia, and Casey (qpp), omniromantic and omnisexual, objectum, fictoflux, and subhuman

🐛 ꔛ 🌱

some media i like are object shows, aqua teen hunger force, pokemon, dont hug me im scared, superjail, invader zim, sausage party, adventure time, courage the cowardly dog, aggretsuko, madness combat, south park, the amazing world of gumball, starters (movieunleashers) helluva boss + hazbin hotel ((except im not a weirdo about it)), the amazing digital circus, dick figures, gravity falls, mandela catalogue, rick and morty, assassination classroom, total drama, chainsaw man, toilet-bound hanako-kun, pizza tower, wander over yonder, happy tree friends, homestuck, electric dreams, and probably more! dont be afraid to ask me

i also like lots of music, such as lemon demon, will wood, tally hall, mother mother, jack stauber, die antwoord, hamilton, matilda, your favorite martian, ajr, the front bottoms, ajr, pink floyd, and more misc songs ( https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLBj5gR-9Bm32JkdDUfldVWKmGEXjReWnj&si=1jtiqbWj3jyRcqBF )

some other things i like are sushi, sunflower seeds, cats, bugs, parasites, reading, writing, and so much more!

🪱 ꔛ 🍎

i take drawing commissions and writing requests, as well as drawing and writing trades. feel free to dm me for info, as i am low on money.

i have other socials such as:

discord ((very active))

twitter

wattpad

ao3

idk probably more

some more random stuff about me:

i have a cat named Nelly

i like to cook ramen

i have a large ego

i like airy (hfjONE) and steve cobs (II)

my birthday is November 19th

monolingual but trying to learn Russian and German

eastern daylight time

i like to roleplay

feel free to q&a me! I'll probably just post art of my ocs or favs and reblog stuff on here... go to #cobzie for all of my art

thats all for now! i cant wait to meet new people on here :3

linktree here:

[crazygirl58]

hi there! oh, what is my name? my name is jennifer ondioline, i am from munich which is in bavaria which is in germany. i like electroclash, cindy sherman, attending institutions of higher education, public transportation, and multilingualism. i am not sure what sales tax is but i know a whole lot about a ton of other stuff. i cannot cross my fingers on my right hand due to damage caused to my ulnar nerve from an unspecified accident that occurred in the autumn of the year 5779. i have conflicting thoughts about the existence of one or many gods. i may or may not be a sex addict but that’s neither here nor there. what is both here and there is this very jennifer ondioline update from the month of september, which i hope allows you to take a glimpse into my life as an international student who also just so happens to be a transsexual girl who lives in chicago illinois.

me and jarth... we go to this show in rogers park ! and who do we see there ? we aren't sure ! we just got into town ! but we did meet some pretty cool people like this guy nia who is so crazy cool and has a german mother ! oh and jarth needs to be scouted for liquid death magazine... WOOF !

the aftermath of the aforementioned show, a little something for the foot fetish people (i am an ally !), and trying out a new color !!

jahrethh and i pose in front of signs of companies which employ us! (seven eleven and Philip Morris International)

katya (clark detransitioned?), jahrethh, and myself at their residence in the loop. i love my friends !! we are having very much fun together, even though (because) they occupy an extremely male living space ! and yeah, i'm a pretty ass pooper... you got me... 🫦

just 3 fucking men. mind your own business.

me doing ecology (watching squirrels make whoopee), a rainbow from my friend's lincoln park apartment, and a very petite watermelon slice grown in Wild Roots Garden !!

i am a big big fan of architect Jeanne Gang !! lakeshore east park has the most beautiful view of two gorgeous skyscrapers designed by her, Aqua (pictured above) and the St. Regis Tower (formerly Wanda Vista Tower).

fun fact ! Aqua was once the tallest skyscraper designed by a woman. Gang then designed the St. Regis Tower, completed in 2020, surpassing her own former record !! whaaat !?!

selfie with the 27 species that went extinct since 8:00 this morning !

ok jennifer ondioline fans. that is all for now. until next time.

bleibt durstig, meine freunde. viele küsse von deine lieblingstranse, jennifer ondioline.

[merryfortune]

Cake Topper

Written for the (closed) Winter Bingo by @/sweetandspicybingos

Prompt: Tree Topper

Title: Cake Topper

Ship: Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.6k

Tags: Wedding Fluff

   Ryoken was not a sweet tooth. Thus, he was more preoccupied with the savoury hors d'oeuvres that he wanted on display at his and Spectre’s wedding. Little quiches in thick crusts, tuna and cucumber sandwiches smaller than his thumb, or a gourmet selection of cheese and biscuits. That’s what made his mouth water and attention wander.

   The same could not be said about Spectre.

   He was a massive chocoholic underneath the air that he gave where he seemed like he would purely care for rabbit food and rabbit food exclusively. He was a fiend for white chocolate, would try any exotic flavour of any kind of chocolate at least once and so on and so forth.

   Though in this instance, Ryoken could forgive Spectre for how devoted he was to all things sweet and sugary. After all, the wedding cake was quite the focal point of any given wedding. It was in the title of it.

   Thus, a lot of compromise was necessary. Ryoken wanted to go small (for once) and Spectre wanted to go big (for once). Vanilla or chocolate or something making use of seasonal fruits. Fondant or buttercream? These were all the sorts of things that they went back and forth on at length, visiting different patisseries and other cake shops.

   Ryoken could swear that his tongue went numb by the end of it but it was worth it. They somehow managed to make a perfect wedding cake for their special day.

   And what a special day it was going to be.

   A time that they didn’t know was possible; a future that they didn’t know was possible.

   Given their history, neither of them thought that they would grow old. Or have to worry about taxes and healthcare. They thought it would end in a blaze of dishonourable glory as the Tower of Hanoi would go down in flames but it didn’t. It seemed the world had a softer, even sweeter end in store for them as violence was cast aside in favour of peace.

   Though it took some work to get to that peace - and they had to be dragged kicking and screaming through it since they were the ones causing such discord. But they were able to accept it. Eventually. Even finding benefits to it as it allowed for such an outcome like this.

   Growing up, growing older. Finding non-criminal jobs and hobbies. And opening up an opportunity for Ryoken to get down on knee unto Spectre and propose to him with a modest engagement ring. Now the rest of their lives was ahead of them, in a sparkling new chapter. 

   And would hopefully be worth the effort. Everything from torturesome outfit tests and changes, to choosing a venue and curating a guest list, and organising flowers, that proved the most difficult actually, and yes, even compared to the entire debacle of the cake, it was all very tiresome. Ryoken worried he wouldn’t have energy for his and Spectre’s wedding by the end of it.

   But that proved to be an unfound fear.

   On a certain day in late spring, when the weather was fair and balmy, their wedding took place over the course of twenty-four minutes exactly. They signed some papers in front of a witness and then departed for a small get together afterwards wherein their closest loved ones and upper echelon waited. 

   The Lieutenants, Yusaku and Ai, Shoichi, and of course Earth. That was the entirety of the guest list. Yusaku requested at least a couple more - like Takeru and Flame, Aoi, Miyu, and Aqua - but Spectre was crotchety to say the least, even pricklier to social interaction than him. Which was saying something because Yusaku was quite the hermit. 

   Still, it made for a cosy occasion. They had rented out a room in a small, western style pub with rustic, wooden walls and plenty of privacy. They had a couple tables with silken clothes and hard-covered table mats. A couple short speeches took place, reflecting on how fortunate it was that this event could even occur at all, spoken by Aso and Yusaku, their equivalents of their best men. Or close enough.

    For a late lunch, they had hearty, warm meals of schnitzel and mashed potato, accompanied by all the hors d'oeuvres that Ryoken had dreamed of. Though there were other sweets, too, such as champagne and other alcohol as well to have as a treat, it was clear that if they wanted dessert, they wanted wedding cake.

   But Ryoken had a little diversion first. He claimed he wanted to let his stomach settle. A likely story, thought absolutely no one. Least of all Spectre who immediately caught a waft that there was something amiss if Ryoken wanted to wait before he ate again.

   Even more obvious to Spectre when Ryoken suggested they go outside to the courtyard - as just them.

   The courtyard which belonged to the pub was grassy with aged trees and tall fences to give it further privacy. Fairy lights were threaded through and glimmered over the moss that grew on the pavers under foot.

   “Lovely weather we’re having, huh.” Ryoken mused aloud.

   “Indeed.” Spectre replied.

   They stood side by side, looking out onto the greenery. Ryoken stole a glance and exhaled.

   “I’m glad we did this.” Ryoken said.

   Spectre sighed, like he was about to whine but instead, he softened, “Me too.”

   “Maybe for our paper anniversary, we can have dinner with even more of our friends.” Ryoken suggested.

   Spectre laughed dryly.

   It was worth a shot, Ryoken thought but he didn’t disagree with Yusaku. It would be nice to have more of their friends, the Lost Incident Victims and others, even the Ignis, too, at such an occasion. But baby steps. Their wedding being just their nearest and dearest meant a lot to Ryoken, too, not just because it didn’t unsettle Spectre’s introversion nearly as much.

   “You ready to go back inside?” Ryoken asked as a gentle breeze zippered through them both.

   “Sure.” Spectre replied.

   Spectre tried to move away but Ryoken stopped him.

   “But first.” Ryoken teased him.

   Spectre blinked and he turned his head to meet Ryoken’s expression which was impish. He smiled mischievously to which Spectre welcomed it with an expectant gaze. Ryoken moved his hand closer to Spectre’s and pushed it into his palm. His fingers instinctively curled around it.

   “Here, a little surprise for you first.” Ryoken said. He mooched up to his husband. God, he loved thinking of Spectre as his husband.

   Spectre smiled, his breath almost a laugh on Ryoken’s cheek as he made enough space for himself and this little gift that Ryoken had given him. He turned over his hand and his heart leapt into his mouth almost immediately.

   The only thing this wedding was missing, or at least the cake, was a topper for it and Ryoken had found a good fit for Spectre, at the very least. A cake topper in the shape of a fir tree. It evoked the idea of a Christmas tree without being entwined in tinsel or other ornaments, thus more forestry than anything holiday specific.

   “It's perfect.” Spectre said and his heart swelled.

   Ryoken felt his own heart swell too but more so with ego than appreciation. It was day one of being married and he felt like he was doing a pretty good job already of keeping the magic alive with little moments like this.

   “I know you meant to keep a slice of the cake but I’d rather keep that instead.” Ryoken said.

   “I couldn’t agree more.” Spectre said. “I’ll place it on the cake.” 

   “Sounds good.” Ryoken replied.

   They went back inside and were met with puzzled looks from their few guests. Ryoken batted his eyes and scandalised Spectre in the process. They had not been up to any hanky-panky! But they didn’t need to know that.

   “Dessert will be soon.” Spectre huffed. “I just have one more thing.”

   The cake waited for Ryoken and Spectre at the top of the room, on a cart laden with flowers collected by a shiny ribbon of orange. 

   The cake that they had designed by the end of their journeying was two tier. One large, normal sized base with a second, smaller cake on top. Both cakes were iced with a light buttercream that had been blended with almonds for a nutty aftertaste to complement the chocolate inside. Though the second tier was vanilla marble, also. It was decorated with wildflowers, both actual and piped on. The effect was rustic and compromising between the conflicting palates of them both.

   But it wasn’t complete yet. Despite all appearances.

   “There we go.” Spectre mumbled to himself as he affixed his and Ryoken’s cake topper to the second tier.

   He stood aside and Kyoko visibly cooed, “How lovely…” she spoke up.

   “If you want photos, get them now.” Ryoken joked.

   Now that caused a clamour whilst he and Spectre got ready. They had a ceremonial knife to share together. It had a white handle and another orange ribbon to match the undercurrent colour palette of the affair. All earth tones in reference to a certain someone…

   “You ready?” Ryoken whispered whilst a few photos were taken.

   “Extremely.” Spectre replied, excited, and it was cute to see. He took a steadying breath just to be sure as they did it.

   They cut the cake.

   Together, Spectre and Ryoken held onto the knife. Spectre’s body jutted into Ryoken’s as Ryoken leaned over him. Together, they worked in unison to cut into the cake. Ryoken pressed a kiss onto Spectre’s cheek as the tree-shaped cake topper began to topple to the side and the inside of their cake was revealed in all its chocolaty, nutty glory.

[stellar-eyed]

@rubyincarnate

"Hey, Ruby."

Aqua practically wandered into Miyako's office, his arms holding up a tall and precarious stack of sheet music binders. Despite some uneasy steps, he manages to make some wobbly steps over to the table in front of the couch where Ruby was sitting. With a grunt, he sat the stack down as gently as he could--Which is to say, about half of the tower immediately slid off and to the side, strewing open books and single pages of music across the floor.

A groaning sigh escaped Aqua's lips as his eyes closed, not terribly wanting to even look at the mess he'd just made. Even so, he got down on the floor and started pulling everything back into a clean, and smaller, second stack.

"Anyway..."

He trails off in a tone as if he wants to try and use this conversation to avoid acknowledging his fumble.

"...I've been reading through the sheets of mom's old songs to try and see if there's anything else you guys can add to your sets."

Aqua finishes stacking the last loose binder, leaving his hands to linger on top of the pile drumming his fingers in an uncertain rhythm. His gaze turns to meet Ruby's eyes, looking both serious and disappointed about the subject.

"Seems there's no avoiding it. You really need a fourth member. I've only been able to dig up versions of STAR☆T☆RAIN and B Is The Sign that were written for only three to perform, and that's probably because they were the first songs to be written."