#huds-hub

[olliesmultimuse]

@huds-hub sent: Asgorudy for the ship bingo!

ship bingo (accepting)

[roleplayersoul]

💡 for Asgore

💡 for Gerson

💡 for Sans

send me "💡" and i’ll tell you a something about my muse that I had considered, but ended up not using for their story

Below the cut! TW for some serious stuff.

Asgore - This is technically more of a 'I haven't expressed it' moreso than 'ended up not using', but I really feel like I haven't captured a few aspects of Asgore yet.

Like, let's just get a huge one out of the way. Can we talk about that Asgore is suicidal? He absolutely knows what he did in Undertale is this awful, unforgiveable thing, and that he caught himself in a situation that he didn't have the guts to change. He can't bring his wife back to him, he can't bring his kids back to life, and he's lost all hope (and despite that, EVEN WHEN HOLDING BACK AND LITERALLY NOT LOOKING AT YOU THE WHOLE FIGHT, manages to be the toughest non-special fight in the game). And in the end, during a subsequent run that doesn't result in a special ending where you spare him, he realizes that trying to force something special with the player is pointless: they shouldn't be trapped in the Underground. He kills himself for it with a smile, genuinely believing it's for the best. He's so guilt-ridden over it. Can we point out how this can happen, and then Toriel takes claim over the throne if she's alive (and the player wasn't an asshole)? Imagine if Toriel KNEW what Asgore did then. Anyways, I'll also point out how it's pretty obvious that Asgore thinks Toriel is dead, too. I mean, dude breaks down into bawling tears just seeing a Christmas movie. I think he's just so tired of loss and living forever: he's seriously just a shove away from losing it.

Also, I feel like I don't express enough how he's aware of other timelines, like Sans. (Not aware throughout all the differences, or whatnot, since that's *never* been a thing in-game except for beings like Flowey.)

Gerson - I've absolutely scrapped through ideas of kids, wife, etc., nothing really felt right. He definently has a history, though, and I'm sure he'll tell you if you ask! Even before Deltarune, I know I went into HCs about him potentially being religious/anti-religious. I think I also had headcanons about him being a blacksmith, but, not too sure of that anymore.

Sans - A lot of things with Gaster. I think I'm still feeling it out or might go with what intrigues me.

[patchworkedmagician]

🛣- Is your muse considered a wanderer?

* "At one time perhaps I could've been considered something akin to that. But now this old body is worse for wear, and wouldn't be able to get far."

* "Not that there's much reason to now either. It makes for a reasonable pastime I suppose, but wandering always seems to lead one to troubles here, and troubles always lead to tragedy in this dark of a place."

* "'Tis a shame, really. Were things different, perhaps a bit of rambling would have done a bit of good for once."

[thenotsorealdess]

For the random word meme: "December"

"Cold."

Dess seemed uncomfortable when she answered, rubbing her arms as if she was freezing even though it wasn't even cold.

[chimingwinds]

Whoa... what happened?

Hey, this is HUDS, the mun who runs reindeer-dad, scrappy-urchin, etc...

My blog has been terminated for an unknown reason. I'm working on getting it back and made this account so friends know I still want to be around.

Reeeeeaaallly hoping I don't have to start from square one and would rather have my blog completely restored instead... ...

[gayconstruct]

Humans are Weird — Fever

We literally heat up to cook our bodies when we can't ward off things with our immune cells, and there's a VERY slim margin for what's healthy vs what's not. If you'd like to skip the context portion scroll down to the second set of emdashes

—————

For some quick context, I use some consistent concepts and variations of time words under the impression there's a unified, simplified time scale in an intergalactic universal community

Shifts are 10 hours with hour lunches

There's 3 parts to every species day — Work, Relax, and Sleep — all 10 hours

Diurnal aliens including most humans are working in the mornings, relaxing in the evenings, and sleeping at night

Crepuscular aliens are working in the evenings, relaxing at night, sleeping in the morning

And Nocturnal aliens are working at night, relaxing in the morning, and sleeping in the evening

The clock is from 01:00 — 30:00 (simple 30 hour days for an even number and more leisure time) and rolls over to 01:00 from 30:59 with 01:00 being the roll over from night to morning

Time Increments

Seconds = Instants

Minutes = Moments

Hours = Periods

Days = Cycles

Weeks = Phases

Months = Stages

and Years = Terms

—————

Temperature Rising

Diverse biomes and work sectors began to stir to life, as the many species stationed upon the Integrated Vessel Ro’Vanna responded to the coming shift change. The Universal Timepiece, standard across the known universe, finally struck 0100 Cycles, the nocturnal species like the Umborra and Nostro eager to spend their recreational hours peacefully, while Diurnal species like the Shal’Dorei and newly integrated Humans were waking to begin another productive morning. 

Qin, the most well known Troqir aboard and one of its select Charters, rushed to his station in the hub of the Astrometry Center, cranial crests flaring with an eagerness that to most of his crewmates would otherwise go unnoticed. Ready to start his shift as soon as his posterior hit the chair, the rather tall and muscular humanoid gracelessly plopped down, emitting quite the noise as he got started. Other species present had their full attention focused on their tasking at hand, not a single thought or care thrown to his quite hasty entrance to his station. Several crystalline scales in the crook of his neck iridesced at the thought of his companion joining him soon, his thoughts anywhere but the latest mapping data coming up on his Virtual HUD. Time passed quickly at first, the sturdy man pointing metallic fingers to different notifications that needed immediate attention, adjusting calculations to chart the next few thousand Cargo routes as he went. After roughly 14.5 moments, though, he turned to search for his oddly quiet coworker to notice that the Human had made no attempt to join him this morning, the thought causing a darker color to glisten across his crystal scaling.

He’s late.

Why is he late?

He specifically stated last night he’d “see me soon.”

He’s never this late.

For the first time in his life, Qin was completely out of focus. Several happy-go-lucky phases — human parlance, not his own — had enveloped him, exchanging his stark Troqir logicality for Human whimsy and curiosity. His work tempo was slower and uncoordinated, an unfamiliar feeling coalescing into the turbulent color shifts across his luminescent scales. Every instant that passed on the cargo vessel's timekeeper seemed to lurch at an uneven pace, a deepening pit forming at the base of his abdomen. For four and a half painstaking periods, Qin swallowed his personal thoughts to gain some form of traction on his workload, swallowing emotion as all of his people were taught and opting for diligent productivity, until - finally - the release of his allotted Nutrition Period arrived. There was no moment spared as his dense footfalls rushed towards his companions quarters, his focus unbroken as the ceiling dropped from 4 meters to a much tighter 2.4m. Qin, at just under 2.2 meters, absentmindedly ducked to overcompensate, having quickly become accustomed to this section and its many distinctions after quite a few visits. 

There at last, the tall, silvery man reached what was worth looking for, a door which read in standard human language,

Room 152

Aspen Wright

With the slightest shake in his hand, Qin formed his digits into a fist to knock. 

Knocking… he thought, quite the odd custom, but like many human practices, this was the most respectful of his companion’s personal space and time. For several instants, the silence in the Human Sector’s Hall allowed him no sweet mercy, the lone alien man uncertain what to do as his weight shifted back and forth between his feet, a metal clang ringing out with each motion. Thankfully, a digital projection finally slid across the width of the door, Entry Permitted, displayed in large English typeface.

Thank the Fathers and Mothers for universal translation.

With the invitation obvious and a rather low duck through the smaller door, Qin entered into the darkened room — the simulated window turned off, the curtains drawn, clothes strewn across the floor, and strange devices and pill capsules laid upon the table — not even the so-called “fairy lights” lit the quarters he had become so accustomed to. The Troqirian’s own voice came quieter than he expected, as he rasped out, “Aspen? Are you there?” A strange groan followed, then silence, then- a weary voice.

“Q-,” a cough, “Qin?”

“Y-yes… it is I, I am present,” a facepalm.

“Oh, this is a-” more coughing, “a surprise. Aren’t you on Lunch Break sweetie?”

For a moment, the light from Qin’s Luminescent Scales - ones at his nape, a few at his crests, even the ones on his exposed digits - shined brighter than before, a rainbow of colors flowing across their surface at the thought of being a “sweetie”, before taking a dim, solemn purple. “I- yes, but when you did not show up promptly 15 moments late after last night's recreation I- I began to worry. Lateness? Normal to an extent. Absence??? Abnormal, even for you… Did I… do something wrong? Did our meetings and leisure time make work uncomfortable for you?”

For his first time that entire cycle, Aspen bolted upright with a purpose, but immediately regretted it as a wave of dizziness caused the room to spin around him before he fell the wrong direction, right out of his bed into the floor.

The sight startled Qin, having no frame of reference where the human man was until now, “Fathers and Mothers! Aspen, are you injured!?”

With a weak chuckle and the groan of even more pain, he responded in turn, “I’m fine, I’m fine… I’m sorry to worry you, you never make me uncomfortable dear, I’m just a bit [under the weather] today.” Another small laugh came, and then he continued, “I was trying to tell you that, and I- I must’ve moved too fast… everything is- ugh everything is spinning. Could you help me back into bed?”

Frantic to assist, Qin’s larger form - clumsy in the smaller space, helped lie the smaller, lighter human in his nest, placing his head upon the pillow. Once situated, he covered the small man, as many human’s liked, and noticed his skin far hotter to the touch than normal, homeostatic balance oddly off. “Damn translator…” a joyous light crossing his scales as he used the human swear as he’d been taught, “for whatever reason the English to Troqirian dictionary hasn’t found a suitable translation for your imprecise speech… Could you please explain?”

“Ah, thank you for the lift, love.” Settling for an instant, eyes closed and his head on the pillow, Aspen pondered with a clouded, slow mind, trying to search for the words as his body ached and caught a chill. “... uh- an English idiom of common use in my native tongue… it’s like… to feel sick, to be unwell. I didn’t go to my work shift today because I’m too sick to go… I’m- I’m sorry I didn’t contact you to say something, this fever is really kicking my ass.”

Fever? What in the Cradles was a Fever? 

“Ah… Fever- yes. Hmm, and that is… The translator states you have an elevated temperature? You were hot to the touch, hot because you’re currently ill, or ‘under the weather’ as it were?” Pondering his line of thinking, Qin couldn’t help but attempt to puzzle it together, his evolved logic center placing presented data together to reach understanding. 

Why is his temperature so elevated? He… he’s too hot… His temperature felt at least 311.8°K through my temperature cells… Humans are on average 310.2°K and their species exhibits signs of death at temperatures of 315°K or more… Fathers and Mothers that’s far too close. That is far too close.

Startling Aspen’s tired eyes open, the large metallic man started in with question after question, “How are you okay? You were perfectly normal yesterday. You’re temperature is far too elevated! Are you dying? Do you need emergency services? I can call the Human Physician on board! I can, I can, I-”

“Stop. It is gonna be okay. This- uh this is a normal human response to various pathogens our immune system is unable to combat with its defense cells, so we get hotter and hotter to try to kill the invader before it can do too much damage. I’ve already spoken to the captain and the doctor and I was given some things to bolster my strength while I attempt to naturally ride out my fever. It’s gonna be okay Qin, I’m gonna be okay. The fever just has to kill the pathogen and it’ll break on its own.”

For several quiet moments Qin sat in disbelief at such a process. Actively breaking their delicate homeostasis for an illness? Their specialized cells unable to do it on their own??? He found himself running his digits through his smaller companions' hair as he pondered. He looked so weak, so small, so… precious. 

Breaking the deathly silence with a few coughs, Aspen shuddered from his fever chills, squinting to the light of Qin’s scales before smiling to himself, “I can see your scared glow through my eyelids, Qin, I promise I’m okay… though the comforting touch is nice.”

“Well your eyelids are thin layers containing Keratin and Collagen, it's a miracle your species is alive…”

A laugh, somewhat stronger this time, escaped Aspen’s lips as he smiled again, “And yours have thick metallic plates and the most beautiful glowing scales I’ve ever seen. What about it?”

A hot reddish-pink overtook the Troqir’s luminescent features as he realized what power the smaller man held over him. The power to care. The power to worry. The power to be emotionally honest, something found few and far between his own people. 

The power to be bold.

“Th-they’re beautiful, you… are beautiful, Aspen… I’m sorry I haven’t said it sooner. You always try to make advances on me, and I always try to deflect them with feigned ignorance.”

Slowly, the small human man scooted to leave some room next to himself in the bed, the blanket moving and leaving him even colder than he already was, “Please… could you stay with me a while longer… could you… could you cuddle me to keep me warm?”

The pink glow wouldn’t cease for some time, as the giant of a man laid down on the small bed and wrapped his warm silvery arms around his companion, a small humming noise coming from deep in his throat like a pur. Aspen snuggled close to stifle his chills, overjoyed to know his feelings were reciprocated. Feeling the radiant heat from his alien partner, he drifted into peaceful sleep for the first time that awful sick day.

[deusvervemakesgames]

Project RBH Devlog 0052

As you no doubt recall from last week, I had an opportunity arise. I still won’t discuss it in detail until I’m more certain of how it will pan out, but it did impact my worktime over this previous week.

I did, however, get the legs down for the up-facing sprite, meaning that all that’s left is the hair tufts and our protagonist will be complete.

She can now turn in all directions while she walks. I would’ve recorded that too, but I’ve still got that aggressive screen-tearing on the floor tiles that makes it look awful.

I did make an attempt at the hair tufts, but adding that kind of depth to the image is harder than it looks. After that, let’s see, what sprites remain? Her staff, the HUD, the upgrade cards, all seven enemies, some of the floor tiles in the hub, the hearts that enemies drop… oh, and fixing up the new explosion sprite. And the spikes that one enemy makes from the floor.

Until next Devlog!

-DeusVerve

DevLogs like these are brought to you by Patron(s) like Haelerin!

Support me on Patreon to get Early Access to builds!

[neonrain-dev]

November Report and the Next Big Steps

Hello again!

It’s been a week since the demo launched, and I’ve learned a lot since then.

Overall, the response has been very positive, despite the admittedly bumpy launch (major issues have since been fixed, so please make sure to update the demo if you haven't yet). A recurring observation is that many players are missing some essential mechanics early on such as reading messages on the computer lamps by touching them and are finding the early-game learning curve a bit rough.

While I did intent to push new-age boomer shooter enthusiasts off their comfort zone and in general to maintain an alienating theme, I didn’t intend for the difficulty curve to be this steep.

As a result, the main focus of version 1.1 will be a dedicated tutorial zone designed to ease players into the game’s core mechanics. Inspired by Elden Ring, the tutorial will be skippable if you don’t need it. Here’s what I have planned, but feel free to suggest anything else you think could be clarified further.

Tutorial Zone Highlights

Clearer guidance on reading messages on the computer lamps.

Introduction to bunny-hopping, as the game’s movement system centers around it (more traversal upgrades will come down the line).

Lock-on targeting mechanic, inspired by Metroid Prime.

Basic swimming controls.

Explanation of save rooms.

Emphasis on exploration as a core aspect (resources are scarce, except in combat-heavy areas).

Introduction to green, blue, and red grids.

A boss fight to conclude the tutorial because why not?

Additional 1.1 Features

Added lore for deeper immersion.

New options to hide the HUD and hide guns.

Minor adjustments to other levels and the hub.

Minor visual adjustments.

Further bug fixes and balance adjustments based on continued feedback or personal findings.

Known Issues

Brief stutters when fighting newly introduced enemies. This is a Godot 4.3 engine issue, planned to be fixed in 4.4. The stutters lessen with playtime and are brief, but I’m fully aware this isn’t ideal.

Mouse button remapping limitations. Left, right, and middle mouse buttons remain separate in the keymapping options, as backend programming isn't my strong suit(I fucking suck at it). I hope to eventually hire help for this or improve my own skills over time.

Intermittent crash possibly linked to the lock-on function. I cleaned up some code that could have caused a crash, but it's unclear if this issue is fully resolved or if other factors might still trigger it.

Standing on top of enemies. Personally, this is a pet peeve since no one’s reported it as a problem but I spent days trying to find a workaround and I am still searching for an elegant solution any advice is welcome! This is a cry for help.

Thank you all for sharing your thoughts and suggestions! Your input has been invaluable for refining the game, and I’m excited to bring these updates to you.

[watcheraurora]

Monsters

I'm having angsty thoughts. Back to regularly-scheduled programming later 5.2k words

—

Tango joined the game

Tango faceplanted spawn, is what he did. Slipping in mud and splatting. He cursed, shoving his hands into the mud until they had enough purchase to peel his face out of it. Grumbling half-baked curses under his breath, he straightened up.

"What in the... where am I?"

The world was dark. The sun was definitely overhead, but the sky was black, the clouds were grey, and stars were visible.

He tapped a button on the HUD that clung to the underside of his left arm and pointed to a block.

Light level 0.

All the way around. There was no light here.

Wiping mud from his skin, he deactivated the window over his HUD and squelched through the mud until he reached water. Mangrove swamp for spawn? Whose idea was this?

Granted, the more pertinent questions were, actually:

Where am I?

And,

How did I get here?

Neither of which Tango had any answer for.

He shoved vines out of his way as he dunked himself into the water, using it to get the rest of the mud off. His clothes shouldn't stain—the Void only knew how much redstone had been caked into the fibers over the years, and yet they stayed the same—but he didn't want to be moving around covered in dirt when the mud invariably dried.

He scrubbed at his face and hair too, for good measure.

There was no one around. The spawn chunks were untouched. Not a social hub, then. Lot of spawns weren't, but most worlds with more than a few players set up some level of infrastructure at spawn. At least a sign welcoming new players to the world. Sometimes stocked with food and basic tools.

There was nothing here.

He raised his arm and flexed his left ring finger. A list appeared over the HUD on his arm.

The only active player in this world was him. He saw several spaces for more, but they were all... redacted. He couldn't see faces or tags. That was different. Usually residents of a world who weren't active were at least displayed.

He washed himself off again and climbed out of the water and kept moving, having chosen a random direction and moving in it.

He heard the bamf behind him of an Enderman's teleport. He whirled. If he could get an Ender Pearl... But, gah, he didn't have an axe or a sword—

He didn't need one, but he'd rather use one.

There was nothing there. The Enderman was probably blocked by the thick trees and vines.

"Come on out, skippy!" Tango challenged, frustration heating his blood. "Promise I don't bite." That was a lie and the row of sharp teeth he bared in a sneer proved it.

The Enderman bamfed again after a moment, but no more visible than before.

Tango growled and stalked to the nearest mangrove tree. An utter waste of a beautiful block to make tools out of, but apparently this swamp was plentiful.

The tree did not break.

"What the—?" He peered around the tree, looking toward the Tango-shaped hole in the mud where he'd, well, landed.

How big was the no-touchy zone around spawn? He knew some worlds had them, but not all. Hermitcraft didn't—they had community builds to help players who died without a bed or anchor within a few hours of hopping to the new seed.

Tango didn't remember what the no-touchy zone around spawn that prevented building, breaking, and PvP was actually called and he didn't care. It wasn't normally useful so he'd never bothered to remember.

He kept moving. The light level zero of the world with its black sky and muted sun and stars meant that he'd soon be faceplanting into mobs that spawned outside the player radius when he appeared.

He splashed through more water. He hated swamps. Mangrove or otherwise. They spawned slimes and drowneds and navigating the water and land and mud was an absolute headache. Maybe he didn't normally hate swamps, but he certainly was hating one now.

He used a propagule to haul himself out of the water—and it broke off from the tree in his hand and popped into his inventory.

"Finally," he muttered, approaching the trunk of the tree to start getting geared up.

The Enderman in the distance teleported again.

Tango grumbled under his breath. "Stupid Endy mocking me," he muttered.

Bamf! "I'm not mocking you."

"WAH!" Tango whirled, slipped in the mud, and fell back into the water. This time, he didn't even care. He scrambled back and away. No armor, no tools, no weapons—royally screwed—

"Whoa, whoa! Hey. It's okay," the feminine voice said as though soothing a startled and skittish horse. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Peering through the vines were a pair of vibrant violet eyes.

The girl pushed the vines out of the way with her shoulder and carefully approached Tango. She put her hands in front of her, again as though trying to soothe a horse. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm sorry for scaring you."

The skin of her face was fair—freckled, even—but her hands were as pitch black as the sky. They only faded back to fair up near her shoulders. She had on a light, lavender tank top and grey shorts. Her feet were bare, and black. Also fading back to fair, though Tango couldn't see the end of the transition with her shorts in the way. Her long hair was black, and faded to violet on the ends.

Violet particles drifted off her.

"Who—what—how—" Tango spluttered.

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm Eclipse." She glanced at the underside of her left arm and flexed her left ring finger. "Are you Tango?"

"Yeah."

"That just your tag or is it your name too?"

"No, it's, uh, it's my name."

Eclipse crouched, letting her knees sink into the mud slightly. She extended a hand to help him out of the water. "Nice to meet you, Tango." Her eyes swept him up and down as she said it, never quite meeting his.

"You too."

He took her hand and let her haul him out of the water. He shook his head hard to get some of the water droplets out of it and felt the fire spurt back to life in his hair, warming his whole body down his spine. Goosebumps rose on his arms. "Was that—did you—you were the one teleporting?"

Eclipse nodded.

He looked at his HUD, flexing his ring finger. "I don't see any other active names."

"Oh shoot. Sorry." She tapped on her own arm for a moment. The Tab List pinged and one of the redacted blocks hiding a name fell away. Tango saw her face and ForeverEclipse16 a few slots down the roster of resident players. "I forget that setting is on a lot. You can only see names if you've been allowed by that person after you know they're part of this world. Folks here like their privacy. Some don't care, but most like to keep to themselves here."

"Where are we?" He looked around the mangrove swamp, then deliberately looked Eclipse in the eyes, hoping it would spook her into giving him an answer. Most Players tended to be a little unnerved by his completely red eyes.

She cringed away, squeezing her eyes shut. "Please don't do that."

"Why?"

"I'll get to that. For now, to answer your other question."

Her screwed up face relaxed and her vibrant violet eyes opened again, but refused to meet his. Instead looking just below them.

"Welcome, Tango, to the World of Monsters."

—

"Okay, so, let me get this straight," Tango said, hiking up a hill that Eclipse was leading him up. They'd finally left the mangrove swamp and had found plains. His companion had been fairly silent the whole time. "Just to make sure I'm brain-ificating correctly. Which I might not be." He broke some grass and scooped up the seeds. So far he had a set of wooden tools and no armor. Eclipse wore none either; and hiked with bare feet no less. "When you say World of Monsters, you mean the name of this place, right?"

"Sure," Eclipse replied, flinging some hair off her shoulder.

Tango rolled his eyes. His sclera, iris, and pupil were all the same shade of red. She wouldn't even notice if she was looking. Which she wasn't. "Care to actually elaborate on that? This place has constantly had a light level of zero yet I haven't seen a single hostile mob spawn. How can this be the world of monsters if there are, oh I don't know, no monsters?"

Eclipse huffed a laugh out her nose, smiling but trying to hide both behind her hair and shoulder. "Hostile mobs don't spawn here," she said.

"Oh, great. That explains everything. Thank you." Tango knew his dry sarcasm was often found to be abrasive, but he couldn't help it. The attitude was in his nature. "Apart from how you teleported, how I ended up here, why the sky is dark—oh, and also where exactly am I."

Eclipse stopped at the top of the hill and swept an arm out, looking across the landscape. Tango pulled to a stop beside her.

No hostile mobs within render distance, but there were pockets of skulk.

"The World of Monsters," Eclipse said. "It's a unique place. Only Players with hostile mob code in their strings can enter this place. Some of us burn if the sun is allowed to shine properly. So the sky is kept dark." She fidgeted. There was a Bamf and she was several blocks away. Then another and she was on Tango's other side. No Chorus Fruit to be seen.

"I don't have hostile mob code," Tango said.

Eclipse snorted. "Sure you don't." Her eyes flicked up to his burning hair. "Blaze."

She turned and started marching off again. Tango squawked in protest and followed after her. "So, wait. Why this place?"

"Because hostile mob hybrids are often feared. This is a place where we can be ourselves without worrying about how other Players will react to the monstrous parts of us. We've got one guy—Creeper-code—who shows up here just to blow up when he's mad before going back to his usual world." She smiled. "That's why there's a large zone around spawn that prevents breaking blocks. So he can spawn in, blow up, and leave without leaving pockmarks all over."

"And you're an Enderman hybrid."

Eclipse nodded. "Human enough that water doesn't bother me. Ender enough that looking me directly in the eye does." She cleared her throat. "But that's because Endermen communicate telepathically by looking one another in the eye. But Players have a lot more to process. Complicated thoughts and emotions. If a Player looks an Enderman in the eye, they attack because they get overwhelmed by the amount of information they try to process from a Player. It's a defense mechanism. But they count as hostile. So here I am." She placed a dirt block to make a two-block gap climbable. "When you look me in the eye, I can read your mind. All of it. Having a mostly human brain and mostly human intelligence means I can handle Player thoughts and emotions. But that doesn't mean I want to see everything. So I don't recommend looking me in the eye."

"Noted," Tango said. "No looky-looky." He cleared his throat and kept climbing behind her. "How did you guess I have Blaze code?"

Eclipse raised a brow and eyed his hair again. "Gee, I wonder," she remarked sarcastically before continuing her hike.

"No one else has ever guessed," Tango argued, trailing along. He wasn't entirely sure where she was taking him. She said she'd bring him someplace safe, and for the most part, he believed her.

"Well, how many of your 'no one' is also a hostile mob hybrid?"

"At least three. One of my friends is part zombie. It's in her tag. The other is part slime. The last has Creeper code."

"Maybe they were just too polite to say, since your hybrid traits are more subtle and you can pass for a normal Player with some fire powers. But you couldn't access this world otherwise. So it was easy for me to guess." Eclipse fidgeted, teleporting several blocks ahead and then back to where she'd been. "Sorry," she muttered. "I do that. I don't usually mean to. It's kind of a side-effect."

"It's fine." Tango really couldn't care less that she was a nervous teleporter. "Why don't hostile mobs spawn here?"

"Because we turned off those spawns. We wanted a place where we could be ourselves without... looking at what makes us different. It's nice to have one peaceful world where we can just live." She cleared her throat. Bamfed away and back. Kept hiking. "My base is just on the other side of that mountain. I didn't want to be too far away from spawn in case I accidentally broke my bed."

"You can teleport. Isn't that, like, not a big deal?"

"Well sure but 'porting still takes energy. I'd rather save it." She cleared her throat. "Speaking of." She turned and held something out for him. "I forgot. You'll probably be getting hungry."

Tango peeked at his HUD as he took the golden carrot from her. His hunger was, in fact, getting really low. He ate the carrot and then the next one she offered him. He considered his meter high enough after that and politely declined a third.

They hiked for a while longer, crossing the plains biome and into a mountainous one. Goats bleated high above. They seemed to be circling the base of the mountain, rather than going directly over it. The day was getting on, the muted sun crawling ever closer to the horizon. "So you can't farm Blaze here," he said.

"Can't farm a lot of things. Skeletons for bones and arrows, zombies for rotten flesh for clerics, zombie piglins for gold, Endermen for Pearls and XP, creepers for gunpowder, Blaze for Blaze Rods, shulkers for shells. We don't do a lot of brewing here. And, actually, without zombies, iron farms don't work either. Let me tell ya, Jevin was bummed when he first got here and there was no way to make an Ender farm."

Tango froze. "Did you just say Jevin?"

"Yeah. Blue slime guy. He's actually pretty chill."

"I know him. He lives on my main residential world with me."

"Oh. He's the one you mentioned earlier?"

"Yeah!" Tango peeked at the Tab List again. iJevin had appeared on the roster, though the name was greyed out and [Off-World] was next to it.

"Interesting." Eclipse shuddered like an aggravated Enderman and after shaking her head hard, continued onward.

"What about spiders?" Tango asked. "Since they're passive but also hostile depending on the light?"

Eclipse gestured around her. "Light level zero," she reminded him.

"Right. So no string or spider eyes either."

"Nope." She cleared her throat. "Anyway. Home sweet home." She extended an arm out.

Tango paused.

She'd built a whole village out of End Stone variants and Purpur blocks. Like if an End City and a normal village had weird hybrid children houses.

Apart from the castle—that appeared to be made out of Purpur and studded with Amethyst. It was gorgeous, reaching toward the sky. Eclipse smiled at him and started hopping down the mountain to the village at the base of it.

"That's gorgeous," Tango said, following her.

"Thanks. Let me get you kitted out and then you can do what you want. Come and go as you please."

He hopped down the mountain after her. "So... how did I end up here?"

"Eventually every hostile mob hybrid just gets brought here. Most of us don't stay here full-time. We just come here for vacations. To be how we are with no fear of scaring normal players. You could turn into a bonfire right here and no one would bat an eye. If anyone was even here at the moment. Since no one's really a full-time resident. Except—" She cleared her throat. "Except me. I live here."

"Why did you choose to live here?"

She eyed him sarcastically, her gaze just off from his eyes. With a Bamf noise, she was almost the entire way down the mountain. This time, she didn't come back. Tango pursued her faster, catching up upon realizing she hadn't started moving again.

"I live here because being on public residential worlds is overwhelming. People look me in the eyes without meaning to. I teleport randomly and have broken redstone circuits by accident just by getting stuck in one. Here, I can just do what I want. I can wander and 'port and build and not worry about someone dumping their entire brain into mine because they happened to be curious about my eyes." She blinked. "At least here, everyone knows what I am and are polite enough not to look me in the eye."

"What about a more private world? Like a whitelisted one with only a handful of people?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't need the headache of people finding out about me. Based on my experience, it doesn't end well when normal players realize you've got hostile mob code."

"My zombie friend has been accepted well, on our world. So has Jevin."

"Then your world is kinder than most." She pushed open a door to a large, rectangular house—that was absolutely filled with chests. There were signs attached to each one detailing what was inside. Her storage hut. "Let me get you some things." She lifted the lid of a chest.

"If you can't get Ender Pearls or Blaze Rods, you can't get to the End, can you?"

"I never said that we can't get Ender Pearls. We just can't farm them. I can make them. It's part of my Ender code." She gestured to a double chest labelled Ender Pearls. Tango, at her nod, peeked under the lid. It was absolutely chock full of Ender Pearls. "Why? What's so important in the End?"

"Well... how do you get Purpur and End Stone? How does everyone here fly?"

"I don't. I 'port. I can get to the End."

"Where's the Stronghold?"

She shrugged. "Dunno."

"Wait, wait, wait. You mean you can teleport directly to the End?"

"I can teleport to the Nether, the End, and the overworld at will."

Tango stared, blinking. "What?"

"Just part of my code. I can only really hop to the Nether directly corresponding to where I am in the overworld. But the End I can, y'know. Get wherever. So I harvest my blocks there. But I've got a crop of Chorus plants too that I can turn into Purpur."

"How does everyone else fly?"

"Most of them don't." She snuck a look at him out of the corner of her eye. "But Blaze fly naturally."

"Yeah. I just made a habit of using an Elytra so the other Hermits didn't think I was weird." His Blaze Rods burned into being, orbiting his head. He lifted a few inches off the ground and touched back down. The Blaze Rods vanished.

"No wonder your friends never guessed you were Blaze code." She reached deeper into the chest, short enough that her feet came off the ground, kicking the air to maintain her balance. "If you keep your Rods hidden, why would they assume?"

"I don't... mean to keep them hidden. They just get in the way."

"Mmhmm." She didn't sound convinced.

Particles drifted off Eclipse as she rummaged in a chest labelled Food.

She pulled out several stacks of golden carrots, handing them over. Tango let them pop into his inventory. "That should be enough to last you a while. I've got lots of crops here and a handful of villagers with golden carrot trades so let me know if you need more. You can just ping me in the chat or send a whisper or whatever. You could also, uh, stop by. If you want. Just whenever. I don't mind unexpected company."

Tango eyed her. The way her shoulders curled forward as she opened a different chest. "You're lonely," he said. Not a question.

"I'm fine," she replied, passing over a set of diamond tools. None of it was enchanted, but it was diamond.

"Wait, hang on. What is this?" Tango demanded.

"What?"

"You're just handing me diamond tools like it's no big deal!"

She shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

"How is it not a big deal?! It's diamond! This set must have taken you hours of mining to get—and you're not even wearing armor!"

"I don't need armor. There's no hostile mobs here and fall damage is easily mitigated by teleporting. Besides, the tools are nothing." Her own set of diamond tools—gleaming with the magic of enchantment—spun through her hands from her inventory. "I traded for them. I didn't mine. I built a village. I have villagers."

"Still, that's a lot of trading."

"Tango, look in this chest and tell me I don't have tools to spare."

He peered over her shoulder. The double chest was full of diamond tools. All unenchanted, but all diamond. "Wow."

Eclipse continued searching her storage room. "Let's see what else I can give you... Oh! A bed. Hang on. I think I've got some wool and planks..." She crossed to a different chest—labelled Wool—and ducked into it.

ZombieCleo joined the game.

Tango stared at the chat over his hub for a moment.

Then his hand flew to it.

<Tango> CLEO?!

<ZombieCleo> Tango?

Eclipse straightened out of her chest with some wool in her hands, reading the chat on the underside of her arm. "Oh. You know each other?"

"Cleo also lives on my homeworld!"

<ZombieCleo> Where are you, Tango? How did you get here?

<ForeverEclipse16> He's at my base

She went to a crafting table and started assembling a bed.

<ZombieCleo> Stay there. I'm on my way

<Tango> Roger, roger *thumbs up*

"There you go!" Eclipse said, turning around. "I have lots of dye if you want to pick a color."

"I don't really care. Plain is fine. A bed is a bed." Tango took it from her and put it in his inventory. "This is more than generous, Eclipse. Thank you."

"Sure thing. We don't get new Players often. Least I can do is help you out." She smiled. "Let's go out and wait for Cleo. They tend to move pretty quick."

"Yeah. Sure thing."

—

When Cleo emerged from the tree line on a horse, they looked slightly cross. Eclipse had been Bamfing around the houses of her base, up on the rooftops, waiting for their arrival. When she caught sight of them, she waved.

Cleo followed the directions Eclipse gave and rode straight up to Tango. "And just what have you been keeping from us, Tek? How are you here?" they demanded.

Tango knew that a lot of Cleo's intimidation was bravado and bluffing. That didn't stop his pointed ears from flattening to his head and his hair simmering low. He was still intimidated by them when that angry voice came out. Cleo could probably wipe him in PvP and he didn't want to trek all the way back here to pick up the bits Eclipse had given him.

"I, uh..." Tango started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have hostile mob code?"

"Why do you say that like a question?" Cleo glowered down at him. "You can't get in here otherwise. Out with it."

"I'm part-Blaze, okay?!" Tango snapped, his temper, hair, and Blaze Rods flaring. Cleo blinked in surprise at seeing the Rods manifest around his head, their eyes tracking the orbit. "I'm Nether-spawn! I didn't tell anyone because Nether mobs are—they're—" He cut himself off with a huff, his fists clenching. His Blaze Rods spun around him faster.

"Tango." Cleo's frustration had vanished. They slid off their horse, tied it to a post, and approached him. They were taller than him and ducked down enough to force him to meet their eyes. Vibrant green, and now full of affection. "Tango, you know none of the Hermits care. Doc's got Creeper code. I've got zombie. Jevin's a slime. X is a code-shifter. Who knows what the hell Mumbo is. You never needed to hide anything from us."

"It's different," Tango muttered. "You're all overworld hybrids."

"Were you scared that the Hermits would reject you?"

"No! ... Yes? ... Kinda?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's different for me."

"Enlighten me," Cleo said flatly, eyes narrowing to a bit of a glower.

"I'm going to assume you didn't say that as a fire pun," Tango muttered. Eclipse had Bamfed away somewhere, apparently out of earshot, and was sitting up on a tower of her castle.

"Tango," Cleo warned.

He sighed. "Look. It's different for me, okay? I'm not overworld-hostile-mob. I'm Nether-hostile-mob. And more than that, I'm Blaze code. Nether mobs are the worst and the Blaze are... they... I... I couldn't let that part of me show."

"Why?"

"Because if the Hermits knew I was Blaze code, they'd be fine with it. They'd tell me I didn't have to hide. They'd encourage me to be open about myself."

"And that's a bad thing?" Cleo challenged.

"Yes!" Tango threw up his hands. "Because if I let myself be open about my Blaze heritage, I'd get lax about controlling it."

"Fire spread is off."

"That's not what I mean." Tango's hair flicked faster. "I know that. I like having fire in my builds as much as the next guy. More, even. It's the other parts that I have to keep down. You think my temper is bad and explosive now? Imagine how much worse it would be if I embraced the monster in my code." As he spoke, his teeth bared in a snarl. Their white, sharp points flashing in the starlight. The sun had truly gone down, but no mobs spawned. The End Rods that kept Eclipse's farms at the right light level to grow plants were the only light in the area.

Cleo considered him. "Am I a monster?"

"Don't," Tango said softly.

"Is Doc a monster? Is Jevin? Is Mumbo?"

"It's different for me!" Tango shouted. His hair burst into a massive plume of flame, his Blaze Rods flaring with light and heat and shooting around his head like meteors. The fire crawled down from his hair, consuming his head. Neck. Shoulders. Arms. Torso.

"How?!" Cleo retorted with equal gusto.

"Because I'm from Hell!" he roared. "The Nether is a hellscape and that's where my code comes from! I'm not like the overworld hostile mobs! You can survive in extreme conditions and just stitch yourself back together! Doc can release all his emotions in one quick explosion and carry on. Everything literally slides off Jevin. I'm not like you guys. I'm from the place no one actually likes going. People go to the Nether out of necessity. And you know what they do? They break through the damn ceiling and build up there so they don't have to deal with the rest of it!"

The fire had crawled to Tango's knees.

"Jimmy never thought you were a monster," Cleo said.

Tango's fire vanished, leaving only his hair burning low. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Cleo leaned back, folding their arms. "You won't listen to me. You wouldn't listen to Impulse if he was telling you this. You won't listen to the Hermits who believe that you're not a monster. You know us too well. You're like a child who won't listen to their parents but if someone else suggests the same idea, you do listen. So if you won't believe me when I tell you that you're not a monster, maybe you'd listen to him."

Tango stared. "He doesn't know the real me."

"He held your heart and soul in his hands, and you held his. He knows you well enough. You nearly burnt him alive when he tried to hold you back after Scar caught the ranch on fire. And he held onto you anyway. Would he do that for a monster?"

Tango's whole body felt like Cleo had thrown a bucket of ice water over his temper and dropped an ice cube down his spine.

"I don't care what your relationship with him was like behind closed doors," Cleo continued. "I don't care if you were romantically involved or just good friends having fun in a death match together. It doesn't matter. What matters was that it was obvious he cared about you, and you cared about him. And he held you through one of the worst rages I've ever seen you in. So what are you so afraid of with the Hermits? Why do you think they'll see you as a monster? You're not one."

"I'm not now. Anymore. But I was and I could be again if my control slipped." Tango's hair was flickering fast.

Cleo reached out and set a hand on his arm. "Don't beat yourself up so much. You're more than the sum of all your code. We all are." They looked around. "Come on. I'll take you to my base here and then you can find a spot for your own. Then you can pop in and out of here whenever you need to."

Tango looked around the End Stone and purpur village.

<Tango> Eclipse? Pop back down?

Bamf! "What's up?" Eclipse asked.

"Cleo's taking me to her base and from there I'm gonna find a little plot of my own. But first I wanted to say goodbye. And thank you. Since you've been so kind."

"Oh, no problem." Eclipse smiled, her eyes flicking to his for a split second before blinking hard and looking away. "Happy to help. If you ever need anything while you're here, let me know. I'll probably be here," she said. "I have a Creative world I mock up builds on for the village when I need to, but more likely than not I'll be here." She put out a hand. Purple particles drifted off the black skin.

Tango shook her hand. Her skin was cold compared to his, but everyone's was. "Thanks again."

"Sure thing. Enjoy your stay. The World of Monsters is a haven for you now. Whenever you need to Blaze away from the eye of your friends."

"Yeah." Tango turned to Cleo. "Lead the way."

Cleo hopped back on their horse. "Try to keep up."

Tango just laughed, his Blaze Rods spinning around his head and lifting him off the ground. "I think I'll be fine."

Cleo laughed that infectious laugh of theirs and urged their horse into a gallop. Tango shot off after them.

Eclipse watched them all go, a small smile on her face.

[ourhomealien]

Minecraft World Building

This is a really big post 😄

Need to add: Q'ing items and multiple item selection: pro/mana. Tech-magic. Explanation of admin training and becoming a for personal use (FPU) admin. Crafting. Magic. Non Minecraft specific items. End;

Player code: Head Canon equivalent of human genetics but with tech-magic differences.

Belts: every player spawns/joins with a belt around their waist but not everyone keeps it that way, some have it slung over their shoulders, Chest Symbol and Comm near their offhand's hip. While others have their Comms on their belts and Chest Symbol on a necklace. One thing common through it all is keeping their chest symbols near to their offhand to unlock it as efficiently as possible.

Home servers: home servers are servers that MCYT's either got popular from playing on them or servers fans have found they played on before getting popular, it varies. An example would be that Evo is Grian, Martyn, Netty, Jimmy, Bigb and Pearl's home server.

Main hub: main hub can sometimes be a secret word for earth;

An example of this would be: Mumbo was on holiday exploring far away places in the main hub.

Or it can mean a place were all of the servers, private worlds and creative places converge and looks like an overworld nether hud equivalent, some unfortunate players joining's happen here. And still other times it's a secret word for the Minecraft launcher.

Players: Every Player's Joining is random, some join the main hub, some join from private worlds and some have home servers, but every player spawns with two items and a belt; a communicator or Comm and a small symbolic chest the size of a ring box, an Inventory; they are always strapped to your belt when you respawn, always uniquely connected to your player code. Some Modded worlds have symbolic chests with near infinite space while in some other more vanilla worlds these ring boxes are locked or kept (this helps younger, less experienced players learn stress free or in death games like in LL and SL);

Comms: All players learn pretty quickly that your Comm lets you join worlds and servers from all over the world, connect to each worlds universal chat or to individual players (this depends on the server/worlds code, player preferences and main hub rules);

Inventory: (doesn't have an inbuilt mirror and crafting is done outside, it's purely storage) While the ring boxes take a little while longer to be proficient at using: They never open but you always remember whats inside them in the back of your mind; they only have room for 36 things, and yet somehow break that rule if your stuff matches but only for some things and when end magic is involved, shulker boxes again break that rule. Really good players are super efficient at using their inventories (the blue words are contact hands.) Most players are faster with using their Main hand mostly because there's a caveat with the Inventory. One rule, one handicap, the only way it works: one hand has to be in contact with the chest on your belt at all times while retrieving or storing, all the other hand has to do is be free for retrieving and full for storing.

Transfering items and sorting player inventory is all done through and with player code.

Key Binding:

Main hand contact and think F and Bam off hand shield, Bam off hand torches, Bam off hand totem.

Offhand contact and think 1 through 9 and their Main hand flits though tools, weapons, food, buckets of water or materials for building, things that are for a specific craft or coiled Redstone wires, circuits and small helpful machines.

Fact: Once the items are out of your inventory you have free rein over were you have them on you, juggling can be done without F, it's only use is for directly getting things out of your Inventory into your off hand, whichever hand that may be.

Rearranging/Sorting your inventory is done in a similar way, just make contact with your belt chest either with your Main hand or Offhand and rearrange your internal storage as much as you'd like.

Remember: It's kind of like being able to drive manually; Contact, thought and the ever present image of what you've got with you.

Offhand Contact: Most people use the 1 through 9 method, some don't you can easily recode it with your Comm after some personal use-admin training.

Both: You can rearrange your inventory with Off hand contact and Main hand contact (basically like pressing E).

Main Hand Contact: The most you can really do is retrieve things to your off hand.

Emptying and repacking your inventory to and from chests.

Chests are large strong boxes with secure convex lids and you cannot transfer items from them through player code.

Shulker boxes are boxes made with shulker shells, void crafting and end magic, the only way to use them is to transfer items through player code.

Most players use off hand contact to empty and pack their inventory.

Example: Grian's left hand unlocked his inventory and he started pulling out all the junk he didn't want cluttering his mind, packing the chest as fast as his brain and right hand could go. Grabbing his rocket box Unlocking it with his right hand he transferred two stacks of rockets through his code from his right hand to his left, from the shulker box to inventory.

How to fill a shulker box from a chest

One: Use Redstone it's OP.

Two: Open a chest grab something with one hand and transfer it though your player code to your other hand which is unlocking your shulker box.

Tip: Stuff transfers faster if you hold it like you would hold a rock you're about to skim and throw it as if into yourself for receival transfering, else just throw it into a chest as soon as it in your hand.

[zenkor123]

Important people in D13

All Hail Coin

Leader of 13 Alma Coin

Vice president Mitchell Scott

People's congressional Intel beuro (PCI) Jordan Magnus

Chief of Security Herald Nero(replacing Boggs)

Supreme Justice of 13 Michael Connor

Speaker of Congress: William Liodar

Airforce Chief Kamala Martin

Components

Andirondacks complex (modern day location: McFails Cave in New York)

2. St Lawrence Complex (modern day location: Mount Matumbla) close to the gulf of Lawrence

Fort Mars complex. (modern day Fort Drum)

This was the location of the capitol nuclear weapons, stored separately from the peacekeeper complex in Fort Drum. The capitol attempted to destroy those weapons it was only thanks to the successful defense of 13 by the air force led by Janice Boggs that the residents of 13 had time to to go to the shelters but most of 13 didn't make it. Of those on the surface 30 percent of the population of 13 in 75 DD consisted of survivors from the surface. This was due to the district only having a population of 500,000 and the settlements being taken by surprise their shelters unused. But in most of 13 the 5 minutes warning enabled at least trace populations to survive. The initial bombardment enabled the central bunkers to survive. Ironically the death of most of the population meant that the trace populations of the non command shelters had the most food. D13 fired a nuclear bomb on the D2 army of 30,000 deployed to take down the survivors in D13 encamped just outside the border.

Complexes like Fort Drum exist from before the cataclysm and were part of ancient American preparations for nuclear war. The St Lawrence and Andirondacks were built by the capitol hundreds of years before 75 DD.

These were designed to withstand nuclear war with South American nations and China, the concept being that the District's economic capabilities and workforce could continue to operate following a enemy nuclear attack.

During the dark days the threat of capitol nuclear attack led to the expansion of the bunkers and creation of smaller bunkers in the sewer system of the settlement of Arblany(modern day location University at Albany tunnels) work was also done on the West Point peacekeepers base. But these complexes were subordinate to the 3 command bunkers.

The library was made to preserve the literary heritage of Panem in case of a nuclear Attack by Patagonia, Eurasia or China. Additional surviving books from all over Panem were added for their preservation in case of a nuclear attack by the Capitol during the first rebellion. Numerous works were captured by the rebels during the failed invasion of the capitol and the capture of the outer blocks an entire library of the house of Heavensbee, 40,000 other books were also seized from private homes and brought to the library. They planned on giving the works back if the rebels won the war.

In the 40s the D13 Congress ordered the reconstruction of Port Hud (located in the gulf of Hudson) and Port Atlantica which is along the gulf of Lawrence. Prior to the first rebellion these ports were used as a transport hub for D13 peacekeepers sent to crush district uprisings in D11 and 6 in the years before the first rebellion. Guns from New Bern were brought during the rebellion.

[melanie-ohara]

Hollow Yourself in the Mercy of Man

Whumpuary2024, Day 09 - prompt: Can't Move

Safety Investigator Kassa January is called to an industrial accident and finds tragedy in the rubble

An original story at last! It's been a while since I did something original and my god it was hard

AO3 Here

Central-1 grew larger on the monitor as the ship approached, and January tapped a code into the comms panel to request docking authorisation.

"Welcome to Central-1," an artificially cheerful voice chimed. "Please state your name, ship ID, and the reason for your visit."

"Inspector Kassa January, 2171-SD, maintenance tunnel collapse on aft deck 3-Heron."

"Please hold," the voice said and Kass sighed, "you are being transferred to an operator." 

Kass brought her ship into a holding pattern around the 3-Heron dockyard and pulled up her scopes while she waited, zooming in on the collapsed section. It was small, a thin scar less than ten metres across. Something had slipped through Central-1's grid and impacted on the side of the station in a million-to-one, unforeseeable accident. According to the report, all four of the workers the station had in there at the time were killed instantly.

"2171-SD, come in please." This was a new voice - human, not synthesised, officious and, based on his decision to use her shuttle code and not her name, busy and rude. 

"Go for 2171-SD," she replied, after an unnecessarily long pause. 

"We weren't expecting you so soon," he said. 

"Safin-Daniels ensures immediate response to high-priority clients like the Central Network," January rattled off, quoting verbatim from the pamphlet Central Network's upper management would have been given thirty years ago when they took out their insurance. It was a very reliable pamphlet.

"Well, yes but… It's just that we haven't cleared the site yet," he said, starting to sound a bit apologetic. "Search and Rescue only finished an hour ago and there are still dead bodies down there." He whispered the words like he was afraid of them, and January wondered where it was on the station he lived that he hadn't seen a corpse before.

"The fresher the better," January muttered before hitting the comms switch again. "That's not a problem, Central-1. If you could clear me for a berth and have someone direct me, that would be great."

There was a pause before the amber light on her HUD turned green and she could guide the ship out of the holding pattern and into the docking hub, letting the autopilot take over for the tricky landing manouevre while she buttoned up her jumpsuit and checked her hair in the dull reflective surface of the metal wall. 

The man who met her at the last junction before the sealed off maintenance section looked exactly how she expected after hearing his voice on the radio: short and sweaty in an expensive suit and uncomfortable expression. His name was Salder, and he was anxious for her to finish as soon as possible. Apart from the pop-up pressure seal that divided the wrecked portion of the room, Supply and Utility Maintenance access hatch 73 looked just like any other - a functional, bare metal structure welded to the next functional, bare metal structure in a long chain that allowed entrance to the warren of tunnels that riddled the station. They looked exactly like the SUM hatches on Central-5, where January had been last month, and Luna-7, where she had found explosives residue that exposed the Cassarn Syndicate's insurance fraud. The first thing she noticed were the three body bags.

"Where's the fourth?" she asked. "The report said four men died, I only see three."

Salder pointed to the unzipped empty body bag. "Perhaps you'd better take a look."

January frowned, but did what he said and lifted the flap of the black bag. "Ah," she said, about the severed leg sitting there. 

"That's all they managed to find," Salder said. He was resolutely looking the other way, and January thought about kicking him with the severed leg for a second. She put the thought, however tempting, out of her mind and looked at the sealed section. It was a pretty open-and-shut case. As much as she'd like to ruin more of Salder's day, it was a textbook act-of-God meteor incident. She was getting back to her feet when she heard a soft crackling sound. She paused, and it stopped for a moment, and then came back.

"If you'd care to - "

" Shush ," January hissed, waving a hand at Salder until he closed his mouth. 

There it was again: crackle, silence, crackle, silence.

"You hear that?" she asked.

"No?" Salder said, looking at her dumbly. January shushed him again and followed the sound, stepping as softly as she could on the rubberised floor so she didn't drown it out.

"There!" 

The sound was spilling from an almost-closed zip on one of the body bags, and January knelt to open it properly. The man inside was, of course, stone dead, but his radio wasn't. She grabbed it from the hook on his belt and clicked down the push-to-talk.

"Hello?" 

The crackle changed in intensity, and if she listened carefully she could make out what could be a voice. The radio was damaged, probably by the crushing force of the metal walls slamming together that had killed its owner, but maybe one of the others still worked. The first body she checked had lost his radio along with most of his right side, but the second one was intact. It had been switched off, presumably by the SAR crew, but as soon as she turned it on she heard him: the missing three quarters of the man who was supposed to be dead.

"Do you copy?" he asked. January could tell his voice was hoarse even through the tinny radio speaker.

"I read you," she said. "Where are you?"

"Not really sure," he said. "Last I remember I was near the airlock, but I think the crash threw me around a bit and I was unconscious for… I guess a while."

January checked her watch. He had been trapped for seven hours, which was more than enough time for him to bleed to death from his injuries, but other than his scratchy voice he didn't even sound hurt.

"Are you… injured?" she asked, looking over at his severed leg. 

"My leg hurts."

"The left one?" January asked.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Call it intuition," January said. There must be something pressing up against the remains of his leg, stemming the bleeding enough for him to stay alive. Salder looked a little green. "My name's Kass," she said.

"Bennett," he said. That was Bennett Anto, the maintenance co-ordinator. "Did any of my guys make it out? I've been trying to contact them since I woke up, but you answered so I guess…"

"Sorry," January offered. Bennett didn't reply for a moment.

"I can't move, Kass." His voice sounded different now. Choked. Afraid.

"That's alright, Bennett," she said, as reassuringly as she could. "We'll send someone in to cut you out. 

"I don't think you will," he said. "There's something I haven't told you."

"What's that?" 

"There's a support strut that sheared in the crash. Every couple of seconds it shifts a few centimetres. I probably only have about a minute and a half left before it hits me."

"Shit," January breathed. She knew the specifications: each support strut weighed half a ton and was made of galvanised steel. 

"Yeah."

"You can't move?"

"No. The best I've got is deciding which side of my head it goes through."

There was no time to send a crew in, especially when they didn't know where he was. Likewise, there was no way to stop the strut. If they could place a shaped charge in the right place, they might be able to redirect it - except they didn't have the time. There was nothing they could do except stand there and wait. Salder turned to leave, but January grabbed his arm.

"Don't you dare," she said. He swallowed. All the colour drained out of his face, but he nodded.

"I'm sorry, Bennett," January said. "I don't think there's anything we can do."

"I know," he said. "I've known since I saw it start moving. 'I will see my fate, and I will greet it, and I will not be afraid.'"

January paused and frowned. "What is that?" she asked Salder. "Is that scripture?"

He nodded. "Neo-Latin Revivalist," he said. "There's a whole mess of them down a couple levels."

January clicked the push-to-talk button again. "I respect that," she said, a little weakly. Religion and the faithful always made her a little uneasy. In her world, a life was forfeit so easily: an acetylene torch left on, a loose wire, industrial sabotage, a locked door left open, poor pressure seal maintenance… the list of sad and empty ways to die was endless. To find meaning in any of it felt so forced and unnatural to her.

"Just one problem," Bennett said. "I'm still shit-scared."

"Easier said than done, right?"

"I guess," he said. "I thought I could accept this in silence, you know? Be a stoic." His voice was getting strained, and he was speaking faster. January guessed the steel strut had moved again and gritted her teeth. "I only picked up the radio to say goodbye to my guys, but… well, you know. I think I'd be a screaming wreck right now if I was still alone."

January didn't know what to say to that. She glanced over at Salder, sweating uselessly next to her. She thought about handing the radio over to him but the idea of hearing someone from the executive class telling a doomed man he was thankful for his service made her feel a bit sick. 

"I'm sorry they couldn't save you," she said, in the end.

"That's alright. Just one of those things." 

There was a long pause. Salder wiped the sweat from his brow with a monogrammed handkerchief. January tried desperately to think of something reassuring to say in the last few seconds of a fellow human being's life and came up empty.

"Okay," Bennett said, his voice tight with fear. "Next time it moves, I'm gone. So, I guess I'll sign off now."

"No," January said quickly. He needed someone with him, she was sure of that. "Leave it transmitting. I'll be here for… for the end."

There was silence for a moment, and then the radio crackled as Bennett held down the push-to-talk. 

"Thanks," he murmurred. 

January said nothing, and waited. 

It took four seconds. There was a brief scrape of metal on metal, and then silence as Bennett's lifeless finger slipped from the button. It was over. 

Slowly, Kass January lowered the radio, and blinked tears from her eyes.

[roleplayersoul]

Have any Deltarune Asgore Christmas headcanons? :3

He gives out sells quite a lot of poinsettias, for sure! He's even more charitable during this time, and that's really saying something. Unfortunately, he's at such a state in his life that I doubt he's putting on his Santa act in terms of giving out gifts, though he'd likely give a few flowers to the people he knows might enjoy them. IF there is a local Santa gig, he's definitely there, though, right?

Wouldn't surprise me if he does volunteer work, too. Undyne tackles him for sure.

(I personally assume him being separated is a somewhat recent thing, but if not...)

He likes to keep a few photos of the family close, and lights a candle or two to act as a "fireplace", curls up alone under his single brown sheet that acts as a bed, and thinks about them being near, leaning right on him. It's the closest he'll get to the old times of snuggling by the fire with them during the evening on the holidays, provided Toriel or the Holidays aren't gracious enough or able to let him spend the night. (He likely saw them during the day, after all, not at night.)

[etherealvoidechoes]

Dinner Offer: Coasting Gigs - Pt. 1 of ???

Goro eventually takes Varsha up on her dinner offer sometime after the warehouse infiltration. After having the twins help decipher and clear up his misinterpretation of her texts from that night.

Well, I've been sitting on this for a bit and finally feel like I can post it. Maybe a 3 to 4 parter, not sure yet with how chapter 3 is slowly coming together. Hopefully, the characterization isn't too far off. Need to give the game another go for the other lifepaths.

Ao3 || Fic Wiki Hub

1(You are here)||2||3||

Appox. 4.6k

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Goro’s brows furrowed, knitting tightly together as he scrolled through his phone, searching for the “note” app to double-check some information for future endeavors. “››Infernal device…‹‹” He cursed under his breath for the fifth time as his quick fingers accidentally activated another app he did not want. How he missed the phone and the familiar interfaces he once used. With a mere thought, he would have what he wanted instead of aimlessly searching like a toddler. 

“Hm?” He felt and heard that familiar ping of an established hidden connection in his modified Internal Agent before seeing an equally familiar icon take over the screen before a button press would transfer it to his internal hud. A portrait of Vargus’ face — the right side obscured by stylistic smoke billowing from an elegant cigarette holder held by two fingers. Goro’s cyber eyes lit up orange as he looked up and out from his windmill perch. “More targets incoming, I assume?”

It had been a few days since Goro and his unlikely former Corpo compatriots had infiltrated the warehouse where the Arasaka parade floats were being stored and infected the target float with the malware. 

Today, he was assisting the twins in a gig they got from Fixer Dakota. More or so, the twins roped him into joining them when they overheard him mumbling about needing more cash so he could procure some more gear before the parade happened after a quick meet-up. 

At first, he declined, partially him still being cautious with his fugitive status and then he didn’t want to get roped into the possible shenanigans they would be getting into in the Badlands. But the cut they offered — half paper, half digital — made his judgment wain just enough. And it wasn’t the first time they had managed to do so.

“Heh, yes’em!” Vargus softly laughed. “Eyes up, Goro. More Wraiths coming in hot. More to dust.”

Goro set his phone down on the grating before lifting the Techtronika SPT32 Grad sniper rifle, one the twins let him borrow, from his lap. Military training kicked. Good habits to always have. Magazine check first. Still a fresh one he had swapped to once the first round of their business was done. Black-tipped armor-piercing rounds greeted his eyes. Then the chamber. Loaded, locked, and ready to fire. Repositioning himself, raising his left knee higher than the other before placing his left arm on top of it and nestling the rifle in the crook of his elbow. Lowering his head and raising the scope to his face, he scanned that parched landscape around the Wraith camp they had wiped out 15 minutes earlier.

Towards the southeast, he spotted a massive dust cloud rapidly charging their way. 

“Hm.” How many this time? His finger gently turned the dial, feeling each subtle click until it reached the infrared vision. “A convoy of ten vehicles from the southeast. Rapidly closing in on our location.” He relayed to Vargus.

“Got four more coming from the west.” Vargus said. “Oh ho! They ain’t happy about losing this catch. Time to zero these fools.”

Shots rang out. An explosion followed by the sound of metal grinding and twisting in the distance.

“Mhm.” He nodded. He steadied his aim on the lead car. Lining up those crosshairs to the driver’s head. “How much time does Višnja still have?”

Another familiar ping rang in Goro’s head. This time, he saw the ID appear in the corner of his vision. A sleepy cartoon bat with massive ears and connection cables crisscrossing over it like a spider’s web. That portrait was quickly replaced with Višnja’s and that concentrated hacker face — scrunched brows and bitten lip — he had come to learn. 

“Secured the important data slates and caches, but still digging through this ICE of these kleptoid deckheads.” A second caller window opened, showing the inside of the garage she was currently in. It was a pig’s sty. Various boxes and containers were strung about, as well as half-eaten, near rotting food. Fresh and dried-up blood stains were splattered across almost every surface. The people of interest were in a nearby bath — with barely a hint of ice floating — with a mass of cables weaving back and forth between them and the nearby servers.

Višnja’s fingers rapidly tapped away at a console as her eyes glanced back and forth between the two net runners and the monitor. A low rumble of a growl entered her voice. “Gonks really had to make their rescue harder with some of these daemons they have set up.” 

“Hm.” Goro pulled the trigger twice in quick succession. Two shots rang out. One for the driver, another for the engine block. Seconds later, that silhouette of the driver slumped over the steering wheel. The car took a hard left, careening into another vehicle before the two crashed into a boulder. “Is the option of ‘delta-ing’, to leave these two overzealous fools to their fate still available?”

“Yeah.” Višnja answered. “But…”

“But?” 

“We get more eddies if we bring ‘em back alive.” And extra money was always nice. A second later, she cursed. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! What do you mean there’s another layer!?”

“Told ya, ya should’ve asked Varsh to lend over Chroma, batsy.” Her brother butted in. “That spunky AI would be done lickity split compared to you, slowpoke.”

“Can it, Varg or I’ll shut your brain off for a week!”

“Nuh uh, feedback will knock you out, too.”

Their squabbling continued into more name-calling. Like most siblings would do.  

A soft chuckle left Goro’s lips. Though he could find the young ones’ conversations grating at times, he did enjoy the sibling squabbles they would get into from time to time. Something refreshing for the pressing times. It reminded him of childhood friends. And to think he was slowly considering the two to be entering that territory. 

“Think you two kids can save your sibling ‘love’ for ‘nother time?” Johnny’s voice joined the call. “Gonna get flatlined with all the distractions.”

The twins; squabbling stopped like a bullet drop. “Shut it, Johnny.” They spoke in unison.

A snort slipped from Goro’s lips. How that construct could make everyone laser focus to shut him up. It was strange hearing the voice of that dead man when they linked their Agents like this. 

It was strangely alluring, as a few times he couldn’t help but pick at the “samurai’s” brain when they all would meet to discuss future plants. More often, Goro would make disparaging comments due to the terrorist’s vexing, often vulgar comments. Loose lips and barely a filter Silverhand had. But it was also a constant reminder of that every pressing time limit. Varsha’s mind would be overwritten by the construct’s or outright killed from the information they receiving from Hellman. Then the potential brain-damaging feedback the twins were receiving the longer they had their neural oscillation synchronizer linked to Varsha’s systems. 

Each Relic malfunction was bringing all of them closer to the grave.

Goro fired several more shots, causing four more cars to crash, but the others, looked like they had reinforced windshields and hoods. “Hm.” He grumbled, tugging on his collar. He would have to deal with them once they arrived. His free hand went down and unbuttoned the first three buttons of his sweat-soaked shirt. 

“››Blasted heat.‹‹” Muttering, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Update on our situation. Four vehicles are closing in on your position, Višnja. Mere seconds away. The other vehicles are disabled, but some of their occupants still live. Those that can walk and wield weapons are making their way here on foot.”

“I’ll engage them.” Vargus said. “Deal with the others and want to see what my new spine can do. Doc Roth let’s see how good your daughter’s work is.”

“Hey, didn’ V tell you to be careful with that new Sandy of yours with the whole ‘potentially catastrophic’ feedback from you and ya sis’ synchro horn things?” Johnny interjected. Though he usually sounded dismissive, this time he sounded genuinely concerned.

 “Doc Roth, Mithra, Višnja, and I fixed up some limiters and warnings. We good.” Vargus said, confidently. “Goro, you can provide me support, but focus on those stragglers.”

“Affirmative.” Goro responded. Pulling away from his rifle for a moment, his eyes darted over to the windmill Vargus had made his perch. 

Eyes zooming in, he saw him holstering his rifle on his back before pulling out a knife and revolver. The next second, he jumped over the railing and landed on the ground below with a hard thud. The fabric of his pants flared out, most likely in response to the sections of his cyber legs flaring out in response to the impact. Raising himself up, he broke out into a blur of a sprint towards their enemies. 

Goro shook his head. “Insane.” A bold move to only use those weapons against dangerous odds.

Goro shifted his focus back to the vehicles he had disabled earlier and made quick work of the ones pulling themselves out of the wreckage and the others moving on foot towards the camp. 

“Hot damn! They don’t know what hit ‘em!” Johnny exclaimed.

With them taken care of, Goro shifted his focus over to where Vargus was once he heard Silverhand’s excitement. The construct was right. He barely had to provide support for the cocky edgerunner. Even with partially reactivated(jailbroken) cyberware, his mind could barely process the speeds Vargus was moving at. Strategically activating his Sandevistan in short bursts, Vargus was a blur dancing across the battleground. One second he was plunging his blade handle deep into the neck of a startled Wraith. 

Next, like a flickering flame, he appeared behind each individual in another group, placing the barrel of his revolver to their heads mouthing “bang” as he pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, as he quickly moved on to sink his blade into the gut of one with a machete that tried to sneak up on him. 

BANG BANG BANG BANG

Goro heard the delayed shots. Blood, brain, and bones flew. The bodies dropped. Vargus was wearing a cheshire grin that grew wider as he repeated the cycle of violence against the rest.

The engagement barely lasted for a few more minutes before the desert grew quiet once more.

“Whoo! Mithra’s got miracle hands. That is ex-hil-arating.” Vargus was pulling his knife free from the last Wraith, having to give it a firm pull with how deep he buried it in their skull. Blade free, he wiped the blood and brain matter against the dead’s shirt before gently sliding the blade against his black fingernails. A few ribbons of the polish rolled up against the wicked sharp edge. “Hun’dred miles better than my old chrome spine.”

“Don’ let it get to your head, kid.” Johnny said.

Feeling an unexpected “heavyweight” dig into his back shoulder blade, Vargus lurched forward. Gritting his teeth, his head snapped around, eyes nearly closed tight in a glare. No one was there. To the visible eye, that was. “Oh? Gonna be a killjoy now? Thought you liked being gung ho? A little reckless?” 

“The construct is right.” Goro said, agreeing with Silverhand. That made Johnny laugh with surprise. “One should not lose oneself to the dangers of bloodlust in the heat of battle. Keep your senses sharp.”

“The ronin and terrorist agreeing? Hell’s getting colder…” Vargus grumbled. 

There was probably a smirk on Johnny’s face, even more so with Goro agreeing with him. “Kinda am in a kill joy mood ’n’ making sure you ain’t going cyberpsycho.” 

“I ain’t hexed. Ain’t that chromed.” He rolled his eyes. He took a step forward, letting Johnny “fall” before rolling his shoulder. “No plans to be, ever.”

Johnny made a halfhearted “aaaaaah” and “oof”.

Goro continued to scan the landscape. 

The desert was still clear. No reinforcements in sight.

An excited exclamation from Višnja. “Finally!” She was beaming from ear to ear. “Cracked the ICE. Both are free. Applying the coolant since their temps are high. Get the truck, bro!”

“On it.” Vargus replied. He was off.

Hearing that, Goro began to gather all his gear before leaving his windmill perch. “Coming to assist.”

Once Vargus brought the truck around, they tossed the unconscious netrunners in the back, along with the other items they had come for. Before leaving, they made their way around camp to gather whatever weapons and gear were salvageable from the Wraiths. Just another way to secure some quick eddies unless there was something they wanted to keep for themselves.

The trip to the rendezvous was uneventful. Goro stayed in the truck (though he didn’t need to) as Višnja and Vargus did the handoff. The netrunners and items were handed over. In return, they got their eddies and some extra goodies for a job well done.

“Aaaaand your cut, choom.” Višnja sang as she entered the passenger seat. Reaching towards the back, she placed three stacks of 10,000 €$ on the middle seat. Then, her eyes glowed blue as well as the lines in her neural oscillation synchronizer implant — the horn — on the right side of her head.

Goro glanced at his phone first. A smile crossed his face as he saw those numbers in his account rise. He then picked up the stacks. Old and new bills glided against his fingers. After a few flicks, the amount matched the band. And it was more than enough for what he needed to buy. 

“Thank you two, again for allowing me to join your… gig.” His mind still had some trouble comprehending some of the slang of the city.

“No, probs. We have a few more lined up and ain’t hurtn’ for the cash.” She said.

“Actually, have another gig we’re about to hit next if you’d like the join?” Vargus offered. “Deals with an annoying Maelstrom branch. They got their hands on something they shouldn’t have and the owner wants it back and doesn’t really care if half the block hears us. Says it’ll get a point across or sum’n’.”

Višnja tilted her head back and forth as she giggled. She leaned forward towards Goro, placing the side of her hand to her mouth. “That’s code for zero ‘em fools to send a message.”

“Hm.” Another gig? Goro wasn’t so sure about that. He had his money now and had some final planning he needed to do before the big day. Besides, he felt like he had been out long enough, though nobody had seen him. And the possibility of this next contract could be quite loud and bloody.

“We’ll give you a fair cut agaaaaaiiin.” Višnja playfully sang. Her wide smile soon turned into a sour sneer as her eyes focused on the empty seat next to Goro. “Oh shut it, Johnny! He deserves the cash and a bit of a break from being on the run.”  

Goro stifled a chuckle. He wondered what Silverhand had said this time. 

He tapped his fingers together. Another fair cut? More eddies were always nice. Maybe he could use the extra money to buy some new clothes? 

“Where too?”

———————————

The trio’s next gig went on into the long night. But was another successful venture, even if they ended up more banged up due to close-quarters combat.

“››Will need to buy some new clothes. Or mend these.‹‹” Goro muttered to himself as he used his sleeve to wipe the blood dripping from his nose. 

His shirt was littered with tears and holes as well as blood, synthetic blood, and other questionable viscera painted it. Feeling stray hairs tickling the sides of his face, he took a moment to fix his equally disheveled hair. A hiss slipped from his lips. Something felt off with the joints of his fingers and knuckles as they ran through his hair. There was one metalhead that snuck up on him and Višnja that he had to punch dead in their borged-up face. 

Hair slightly neater, he took a look at the offending hand. At a glance, it looked fine, but moving his fingers slightly, there was an odd bend in the digits and the gaps between the knuckles were slightly off.

“››Out of joint.‹‹” A hiss shifted into grunts as he popped his dislocated knuckles back into place before flexing his fingers several times. “Ah… and may need to pay Viktor a visit to make sure there is no damage. Or maybe Dr. Rothschild, if he has an opening.” 

He was waiting for the twins. Vargus was gathering up weapons and gear to strip or sell, and Višnja was turning in the gig. Feeling his phone buzz, he brought it out. Another hefty deposit of eddies in his account. Good. Since he didn’t know how long he would have to wait, he tried locating that “note” app once again. There were a few fumbles before he finally found it.

Eventually, the twins made it back. Vargus got their spoils of war loaded into the truck before he and his sister started discussing their plans for the night. Višnja gave Goro the other half of his payment. 

“Yo, Goro, where do ya need us to drop you off for the night?” Vargus asked, rolling his jaw a few times. The segments to the armor plating that lined his cybernetic jaw and part of his neck flexed open and closed.

“Hm?” He glanced up from his phone. “The same place you picked me up from for the first gig.”

“Alright.”

“Unless ya wanna grab a drink and bite with us?” Višnja said. “It’s a low-key joint. Pretty preem soul-food style grub and breakfast. Waffles and fruit sound real good right now.”

Goro raised a brow, inadvertently wrinkling his nose. He had still yet to find anything in Night City that his palette found remotely palatable. Though there were a few places he was growing a soft spot for. Tom’s Dinner. 

“I think, as you two say, ‘I’ll pass on that shit.’” Though he would never admit it, around the twins he let that air of sophistication wain and let their “city lingo” infiltrate his speech. “I have preparations I need to make.” His eyes winced as his body tensed. A hand went to his stomach. There was an audible rumble coming from his stomach.

“Sure about that, choom?” She grinned. He only glared in return.

“Don’t needle the old man.” Vargus nudged his sister’s arm a few times before roughly tussling her hair, which made her threaten that she’d hack his brain.

The three hopped into the vehicle and started their drive.

Goro fiddled with his phone. The talk about food brought a text conversation from the night they infiltrated the warehouse. A few taps, and he found his conversation with Varsha. 

He quickly scrolled up to find their discussion from that night. A dinner offer for real food. A private dinner offer. At her place. The viper’s den. And perhaps sex? The stressful circumstances made it tempting and his mind could only imagine what she looked like under that dark emerald dress she often wore. Quite pleasing to the eye. But Varsha didn’t seem like that kind of woman. 

From his observations, she was the complete opposite, especially when that one ‘associate’ of hers attempted to court her at every interaction whenever they crossed paths. She ignored every gesture, every word uttered by that silver tongue. Everything was strictly business to her. But there was always the possibility his assumptions were wrong. She was harder to read than most of the Corpos he dealt with during his service to Arasaka. 

“Višnja. Vargus.” He said as he leaned forward and perched himself between the gap between the driver and passenger seat. “Can you help me decipher this message from Varsha.” He moved his phone into their view. “I am not sure I understood her offer.”

“Driving.” Vargus said.

“I got it.” Višnja was about to pluck the phone from his hand but noticed those fingers tightened. Right, trust is still tentative. She read the text.

“Let’s see, let’s see.” She read it over a few times before mumbling Varsha’s portion of the text history. 

[Varsha]: What would you say to a little dinner together? Real food. I know some places that may fit your refined palette and the owners can ‘look the other way’ for you. If that doesn’t work for you, how about my place? I can order some food or cook it myself. Think you could use the company for one night. Perhaps we can get off on a better foot? 

It read like Varsha. She was always generous to those she considered friends, or those who stayed on her good side.

She then read Goro’s response and Varsha’s response to that and held in a snort the best she could. Where was this old man’s brain going to misinterpret her offer for food like that?

“What’s so funny?” Vargus shot her a few glances.

“››Think the old man thought V was offering sex in exchange for dinner besides not wanting her to go through the trouble of hiding his identity and he has ‘no appropriate wear’.‹‹“ Višnja slipped over to that machine language she, her brother, and Varsha liked to converse in if they didn’t want people listening.

The car jittered for a second. Vargus’ grip tightened on the steering wheel to steady it. He bit his tongue to stifle snickers breaking through.

Goro narrowed his eyes, even more so noticing those horns of theirs pulsing softly with color. He had his suspicions about what was shared between the two, but wouldn’t press. “So, what do you think?” 

“She offered you dinner.” Višnja said, pushing his phone back to him.

“And?”

“Just dinner. Nothing else, mate.”

“Are you sure?” He reread the texts again, especially his response. “Was she not offering…sex?” He almost didn’t want to say it.

“Sex? Hell no!” Vargus laughed. He slapped the steering shelf with each laugh. “Geez mate, and you said we could be fools, ya gonk.”

“Are you sure?” He just had to ask again.

“V wasn’t doing some tit for tat for dinner and sex, Goro.” Višnja shook her head, doing her best to keep her laughs at a minimum. “She’s not like that.” 

He looked at the two before closing his eyes. Shaking his head, those shoulders dropped. He sighed. So he had misinterpreted her message. He felt like such an idiot.

“No hard feelings, Goro.” Višnja said. “I can somewhat see how you read it like that. V still needs to work on her people skills.”

“Really, don’t think Varsh is even interested in sex. Hell, don’t think she’s wired for it.” Vargus said. “Don’t think we’ve ever seen her with somebody since we’ve known her. Minus anything for an Op.”

“She’s not. Remember the dollhouse story she told us?” Višnja said, corners of her mouth lifting with a little sticker. 

Her brother, in turn, lost his composure, breaking out into a deep laugh as he threw his head back. He was laughing so hard that his eyes glued shut; he had to pull over and wipe the tears from his eyes.

“H-her co-workers, her nosy coworkers wanted to learn about her sex life and instead witnessed a therapy season!” His fist pounded against the steering wheel.

Goro slowly tuned the twins out. He didn’t feel like he should be privy to that information. Besides, there were more important matters he needed to handle. How to apologize to Varsha for misinterpreting her offer? Perhaps he should accept it? As an apology? He was unsure. Hearing the sound of snapping fingers in front of his face brought him out of his brooding thoughts.

“Yo, Goro.” It was Vargus. Composure regained, he then motioned his thumb to the center seat. “Before I forget, check the cooler next to you. Center seat. Varsh’s got a gift for ya.”

“Shoot, I forgot about that.” Višnja said.

Goro raised a brow. He put away his phone and went to open the cooler. “A gift? Why?” 

“Just open it, you’ll figure it out.”

With the cooler open, Goro spotted several things. A few drinks, a backup handgun, an assortment of boosters, and then a few turquoise bento boxes.

“Those bento boxes are for you.” Višnja said.

“Really?” He asked as he picked them up. They had some heft to them. He closed the cooler and placed them on his lap. “Why?”

“Even though you turned down V’s offer, she’s been feeling sorry for you and your refined palette. Made ya some food. Home cooked and ordered something from a friend’s restaurant.” She said.

“Her cooking is the best. Real preem, you’ll love it.” Vargus said.

“Hm…”

Goro cautiously opened the first box. What greeted his eyes was a blanket of white rice, an assortment of vegetables elegantly cut and folded into shapes, and what he could tell was a few small cuts of raw fish with vibrant red meat. Fish. Real or fake? Raising the box to his face, he took in several sniffs. He prepared himself for a questionable, if not repugnant, smell. Eyebrows raised, his eyes lit up. There was nothing but a faint oceanic smell. Perhaps it was real? His stomach growled again. He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Yoooooouuuuuu’ll looooove iiiiiiiiiit.” Višnja sang again, dragging out every word to a nearly obnoxious degree.

Goro rolled his eyes. He opened the second box. His nose wrinkled not out of disgust but from the strong spices emanating from the second meal. It was nearly overpowering to his senses. There was more rice and next to it looked like reddish-brow curry and what he assumed was chicken or coconut chunks in it. His fingers found the silverware in the lid. Perhaps a taste test wouldn’t hurt? And it would silence his stomach for some time. He’d save the fish for later.

With the spoon, he carefully grabbed a portion of each piece of the meal, he finally took a bite of it. His eyes lit up, glimmering with surprise. It was all so flavorful. And the textures all felt right. The rice was light and fluffy. The chicken was firm and juicy, with the coconut only enriching its flavor. And the curry, his mind couldn’t describe it, but it was good. Nothing tasted like sawdust and plastic, and the meat wasn’t a chalky, stringy mess. He was already going for the second bite.

“The ronin likes it.” Višnja said.

“The ronin likes it.” Vargus agreed with a laugh.

Despite their Agents being disconnected, he felt a faint tickle in his ear like he could hear Silverhand joining in on their teasing. He ignored them. Best not to fall to their level. It would be foolish. He ate about half of his meal.

———————————

The rest of the ride was uneventful. The two dropped him off where they had picked him up earlier that day. 

Slipping through the shadows, Goro made his way back to his safe house, not before stopping to buy some replacement clothes and ammunition. Back home, he meticulously laid out his gear and went over his plans. As he did so, he snacked on what was left of the curry meal and took a few bites of the other and was pleasantly surprised it was real fish. Salmon from what he could tell.

As he was winding down for the night, his mind drifted back to the meals and that text conversation with Varsha. He shook his head and sighed.

“I need to apologize for my swift assumptions… and thank her for her generosity, this kindness. I do not deserve it, as I have been more judgmental towards her than the twins.” He mumbled his thoughts as his hand reached for his phone. “She deeply cares for those two. How she became complicit in this foolish chaos.”

For another hour, before sleep would finally take him, he made several drafts of the potential text he would send her in the morning.

[ruindgod]

✦          cael takes a slow drag on the cigarette and the smoke curls blue from the smoldering end. in the hallowed glare of the neon, he knows that he appears as nothing more than a glimmering blue silhouette. the eternal eye above blinks, unseeing. all-seeing. it's between you and coin toss to figure it out which one it happens to be. [ agent michael. ] the voice hums through his thoughts. he doesn't have to response. the voice of the angel will speak on. all one must do is behold it. he continues to smoke the cigarette, blue smoke spilling from his mouth, outlined in that crashing neon above.

         to any wandering eyes, he is just one of many. faceless and unknown among the crowd.

         [ the identification card has been accepted into the central spire's server. however, the central spire will not allow re-entry should your true nature be revealed. do be careful. ] when is he not careful? he blinks and the HUD activates, mapping out the best route from point a to point be. he offers a prayer of thanks and finishes the cigarette. fixing his tie, he doesn't pause as the scans run through him. at most, they'll register him as an augmented human. cybernetic veins with a reinforced frame where a heart hangs and attempts to argue for life. only once, however. if he stepped through those scans again, they would begin to whisper holy things found in the spaces.

         cael doesn't let them have a moment to start discussion. crossing the floor, he steps inside the elevator and among the faceless, he blends. the little blinking icon within the HUD reminds him that his goal is the central bank of information. halfway there. and perhaps — cael doubted, oh what a terrible thing to do — there might even be traces of god. there had been a few reports of strange behavior in the wires. miracles, blessings, things of that nature. none of them, however, were approved by the voice of the angels and were prompted revoked.

         ( although cael heard that the miracles couldn't be revoked. the principalities did not like that at all. as an archangel, that was above his paygrade to ask. ) it raised the question: what happened? the trail on what might have been god erupts every so often and every so often, cael is sent out on a goose chase. the elevator chimes and cael steps out, straightening his jacket before heading towards the doors. a flash of id, an easy smile, he finds himself within the inner workings of the central spire. a hub of information across all of the central world. heaven, hell, and the world between. if it was information, it passed right through here. & then the HUD chimes. [ movement ahead. source unknown. ]

         cael places a hand on the weapon at his side. his sword of fire — or more exactly, a nine-millimeter with blessed bullets from the powers above. he had a sneaking suspicion and he could almost laugh how it curls the corner of his mouth into a smirk. oh, cael, you're getting far too old to be excited for a game of cat and mouse.

         scan for infernal traces. / [ scanning . . . ] / "is someone there? i'm ... rather turned around." he ducks into the many rows, the glowing powerhouses of the world's thoughts. "can't seem to find my way out. hello?"

@robotae & DAO

[lishielish]

A Stark Absence - Chapter 23

Pairings: Tony Stark x OFC

A/N: Please see Masterpost for a note regarding this and upcoming chapters’ tags

It's been a long time, but like I said a couple days ago, I'm finally in a good enough place that I have the head space to hopefully do Tony and Ev justice. I'll still be slow to update, but I promise not to take two years ever again <3

Word Count: 3,049

Chapter 23 of ?

AO3

Runnin Down A Dream

Steve glanced over his shoulder at Natasha, “You sure this is it?”

“Same coords I always use,” she said, hurrying to his side in the cockpit.  “Why?

Tony wondered what else could possibly go wrong as he pushed himself up out of his seat, pocketing the flask he’d brought along.

“It’s gone,” Nat breathed.  “The report mentioned a fire but it didn’t say anything about…”

“What’s go-” Tony faltered, now seeing what the others could.

“The Hub.  That was the Hub,” Natasha’s voice was soft, her eyes wandering over the charred landscape before them.

“Good thing she wasn’t there,” Tony said brusquely.  “I’m suiting up.  Let’s get down there and get this over with.”

Steve and Natasha exchanged a look of concern.  Tony hadn’t taken the news well, they knew he wouldn’t.  Neither had they, if they were being honest with themselves.  But his refusal to accept Evelyn’s fate was only going to hurt him more the longer he denied it.  None of them wanted to find what they’d come looking for, but at the same time… Maybe it would make things easier if they did.  Maybe it would be easier on everyone if there was a chance for closure, a chance for grieving, for healing.

The trio walked silently from the Quinjet, towards what was left of the Hub.  It had been a large facility, evident by the remnants of the foundation that stood among the ash.  Tony berated himself for not sending his army of suits out to search for it the moment Evelyn mentioned it.  If he’d known it was this large…  It would have stood out.  One of the suits would have found it.  He could have intervened.  He could have found her.  He could have-

“I don’t know if there’s anything left here to find,” Steve said solemnly.

“Shut it, Rogers.  Jarvis, start scanning.  I want everything you can give me on this place.  Even better if there’s satellite footage from the days leading up to, to this.”

“Of course, sir.”

Natasha stood at the edge of the destruction, and scooped up a handful of ashes.  She gripped them in her fist, then let them scatter away through her fingers.  “This was the backbone of SHIELD.  All of our intel, all of our support, tech, it all came through here.”

“Never took you for the sentimental type,” Tony remarked, focused on the data streaming on his HUD.

She side-eyed Tony. 

He tried not to think about anyone else.  The number of people it would have required to be the backbone of SHIELD.  The number of people that would have been going through another day of work when Hydra struck.

“Mapping analysis complete.”

“Project it.”

Before their eyes, the Hub seemed to come back to life; grand and imposing.  Natasha stepped back as the green walls loomed before her.  Steve came to her side, and placed a hand on her shoulder.  Tony stayed where he was, unable to decide his next step.

“Area analysis complete.”

“And?” Tony asked, not wanting to hear the response.

“Most human remains are located at the back of the building, sir,” Jarvis said.

“And,” Tony pressed.  Say she’s not there, say she’s not there…

“Many have no remaining means of identification.  Those who do are at the bottom of the piles.  However, no trace of Ms. Abel can be identified from the remains at this time.”

Tony closed his eyes, raised his face to the sky, and let out a long-held breath.

They walked around the charred remnants of the Hub, a somber air hanging over them.  The piles Jarvis spoke of (and if Tony let himself recall, Romanoff had mentioned), were unceremonious pyres.  Bodies laid upon bodies laid upon bodies, contourted, burned, unrecognizable.  Steve put a hand over his mouth and nose; the smell of gasoline still lingered thickly in the air, and his stomach rolled at the sight.

“Monsters,” Natasha whispered.

Tony’s jaw clenched tightly.

Steve turned away, hands on his hips, eyes on the ground.  “What do we do?”

“Jarvis said she’s not here.  So we go home.  We find her.”

“Tony…”

“She’s not here, Romanoff,” Tony said firmly as his helmet retracted.  “That means she needs us.”

The demon’s breath was warm on Evelyn’s ear, her head dipped to the side, as she forced a smile at the departing group.  She nearly caught Fitz’s eyebrows pinch together and his eyes dart to her right hand, but missed it when a cough and groan left the man behind her.  She closed her eyes at Ward’s performance, fingers twitching to tap to her thumb.  His bruises might be real, but the cause of them wasn’t.

“Make sure Abel rests up.

“I’ll show her to the barracks right now.”

Her eyes flew open, looking between Coulson and Koenig.

“Good.  I think that hike from the bus must have taken more out of her than we thought.”

Evelyn had to bite her tongue.  She wanted to pipe up, to say that she was fine, better than she seemed, but he was right; she was exhausted.  But a decent, comfortable bed was all she really wanted.  To say it had been a long day would be an understatement.  Lying down and drifting off to sleep behind a locked door was all she could hope for.  

“Nap time, darling?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard as she rolled her head back side to side, trying to conceal her reactions.  This wasn’t the time or place for getting in a back and forth with the nightmare man.

“Evie,” Fitz said, his voice heavy with concern.  He met her eyes briefly before he looked at her bare fingers again.  “Where’s your-”

“Good idea,” she said, giving Coulson a weak smile.  She could feel her heart begin to pick up the pace at the thoughts racing through her mind, at the decision she was about to make.  She turned to Koenig.  “A rest is exactly what I need.”  A rest…  A dream…  Tony…

“Ready to join me, are you?”

She tried not to lean her head into the gleeful voice speaking into her ear, but Fitz caught her reflexive action easily.

“Sir, maybe Evelyn should come with us after all?  Simmons can monitor her injuries and-”

“Simmons already made sure she has enough of her meds to get by until we get back, and said she’ll be fine until then.  Abel’s staying.  What she needs now is time in one place to rest and heal.  She won’t get that out in the field with us.”

“But, sir-”

“Nice try, Fitz,” Ward interrupted.  “I’ll keep a close eye on her.  She’ll be fine.”

Looking somewhat placated, Fitz nodded.  He looked worryingly at Evelyn one last time, flashed a feeble smile, and waved before boarding the Quinjet.

“Right this way, Miss Abel,” Koenig said, holding his arm out to indicate which way they’d be going.

Evelyn nodded and fell in step beside him.

“Hold on.”  She froze at the sound of Ward’s voice.  “I’ll go with you.  Can’t keep an eye on you if I don’t know where you are.”  He met her eyes with a smile that made her blood run cold.

What was he planning for her?  Did he have a plan yet?  Had he ever had a plan?  Or would everything be set off when he found out Skye was able to hack the NSA satellites and see him and Garrett on the rooftop of the Fridge, working together to infiltrate the facility?

She returned his smile, but kept silent, leaning heavily into her exhaustion.  She continued down the hall, sandwiched between Koenig and Ward.  Doubtful voices quietly caught her ear, wishing the others luck and assurances that the tasks they were told to do would be finished before the team returned.  This was all wrong, she thought.  She shouldn’t be here for what would come next.  But Coulson was following his heart, and she couldn’t fault him for it; she was about to follow hers.

“This is the first hall,” Koenig said as he stopped before a hall lined with doors that seemed to stretch on.  “You can have your pick.  I keep all of the rooms ready at all times in case a situation like this should arise.  Never thought it would pay off.”

“Ok, I’ll-”

“You’ll take this one,” Ward ordered, opening the first door by his side.  “It’s my job to keep you safe.  That means I need to know where to find you.”

“Right,” Evelyn said with a stiff nod.  “I’ll take this one.”

“Alright,” Koenig said uncomfortably.  “Dinner’s at 6, we’ll see you then.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.  I really just need to get some sleep.”

“You need to eat, your body needs fuel to heal,” Ward said, his order laced with kindness.  “Don’t need Fitz worrying about you.  I’ll bring you a tray.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Evelyn said with a shrug.

“I’ll leave it outside the door if you’re asleep.”

Evelyn gave what she hoped was a friendly, sleepy smile.  “I appreciate it.  I’m gonna go lay down.”

“Sweet dreams,” Ward said, watching her reaction closely.

But Evelyn didn’t give him one.  She stepped in, closed the door gently behind her, then pressed her ear against it.  The voices on the other side were heavily muffled, but she was still able to tell when they began to move away.  She hastily turned the lock, then scanned the room for something to barricade the door with.  If she was going to get any kind of rest, she’d need peace of mind that Ward couldn’t just waltz in at any moment.

She secured the back of the chair from the desk under the doorknob, then eyed the medium sized dresser.  Normally, she wouldn’t stop to think twice about pushing it across the room.  But with her shoulder and her ribs, just the thought of raising her left arm enough made her wince.  The small sofa would have to do.  She managed to push it into place using mostly her right hip, and while she would have liked to do more, that would have to do.

The timing of upcoming events was unclear, but in the show, everything seemed to happen in quick succession.  Evelyn needed to rest not only for her health, but also because there was no telling when she’d have a chance to do so again.  She knew she needed to get her ring from the broom closet, she knew she needed restful sleep, but first, she wanted to see Tony again.  She wanted to feel the smallest connection with the only home she could remember.

The blue sky was thick with billowing clouds of smoke and dust as it continued to fill with Chitauri.  The grounds before her were full of clashing bodies and weapons.  The cacophony sounded familiar, almost comforting.  Evelyn ran, as she always did, across the battlefield that had been the Avengers Compound, her feet sure and steady beneath her as each step brought her closer, and closer, and closer…

Evelyn ran.  And ran.  And ran.  The battlefield never ended.  The space between her and Tony never narrowed.  Her legs began to ache.  Her chest began to feel tight, her breaths short.  She clutched at a stitch in her side, and pushed on, running, and running, and running.  She couldn’t do it.  She couldn’t run anymore.

Coming to a stop at last, she bent over, bracing her hands against her knees as she tried to catch her breath.  She hadn’t even reached the point where she would normally trip.  She straightened herself up, hoping to gauge how much further she had to go, but-

An unsteady gasp escaped before she sucked it back in.  She took everything in with wide eyes, trying to understand what, where… The glasses she was holding shook with her hands, liquid splashing over the sides.  She was standing at the foot of a set of porch steps, a flagstone pathway before her led to the white picket gate of the white picket fence.  Beyond the fence were gardens, so many gardens, clearly well cared for and each one was in full bloom.  

Following along the fenceline, to her right, was a small dirt driveway that met a stand alone garage.  Parked just outside the open garage was an older model car with its hood propped up, and a man stood there, bent over the engine.  His t-shirt clung to his damp skin in such a way that she could see his muscles flex beneath it as he worked.  Evelyn didn’t know what was happening, she didn’t know where she was, but she knew that back, that hair.

“Tony?” his name tumbled from her lips.

It was loud enough for him to hear, and set off a panic in his heart.  He carefully pulled himself up from under the hood, grabbed his rag and began wiping the grease off his hands as he eyed her shocked expression.

“Ev, honey, what’s wrong?”

The glasses fell from her hands, shattered glass scattering before her.

He dropped the rag, sprinting to her in a panic, closing the distance between them as quickly as he could.  He slowed a few paces away, taking in her wide eyes and the utterly lost expression on her face.  He finished his approach cautiously, eyes darting around her frozen form searching the yard, the gardens, the porch, trying to find what had her so out of sorts.

“Ev,” he said softly, “honey, is there someone in the house?”

Evelyn pried her eyes away from his and looked to her side.  Sure enough, there was a house behind her, a quaint cottage.  She returned her focus to him, more confused than before.

“Tony… where are we?”

“Home, sweetheart.  We’re home.”

He let his guard down, no longer concerned with the possibility of danger.  Now all his worry was for Evelyn.  The glass crunched beneath his footsteps as he neared.

“What?  I-”  She stopped short when he gently laid his warm hands on her shoulders.  An ache in her left one caused her to wince.

“Maybe we should go inside.  Is the heat getting to you?  We’ve been out here all day, Ev, let’s go in and get you cooled down.”

“Tony, I…”

He was here.  He was safe.  And his touch felt so real.  This.  This was all she’d wanted.

“Honey, what’s going on?” he asked, then pulled her in for a hug.

Pain shot through her shoulder, her ribs, front and back.  She didn’t even try to hold back the gasp that left her.

Tony reacted instantly, pulling away, worry etched across his features.  “What’d I do?  Are you hurt?  Did I hurt you?”

“No.  No, of course not,” she said, hating to worry him.  “I’m fine…”

“That didn’t sound ‘fine’ to me.  Turn around, let me see.”

Evelyn did as instructed, the skirt of her sundress twirling as she did so.  Dress?  She wondered what she’d worn in her other dreams.  Nightmares.  They’d been nightmares…

“What the hell?” Tony muttered.

“Hm?  What is it?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

He looked up from her shoulder to her face, horrified.

“That’s what I’m asking.  What the hell is this?” he asked, then gently ran his fingers over a spot on her shoulder.

She sucked in a breath, the pain searing.

“No,” he groaned.  “No, not again.  Things were going so well.”

“What?” she asked as he spun her around to face him.

He looked defeated.  Utterly defeated.

“Every damn time.  Can’t I just stay once?  Just once for a whole day?”

“Wait, Tony, what are you talking about?” she asked, reaching up, placing her right hand on the side of his face.

He leaned into it, savoring the sensation of her touch, her warmth, her comfort.

“We never get a full day together.  That’s all I want,” tears began to well in his eyes.  “Just one more day with you.”

“Tony, I have no idea what you mean, but my shoulder; that has nothing to do with anything here.”

“What do you-”

“I got shot.”

His eyes went wide, brows lowered.

“You what?”

“I mean, that is to say, I tried not to, but…”

Tony couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his perfect dream world shattering around him.

“You.  Evelyn, that’s not possible.  You’ve been here with me all day.  I would have noticed if you’d been shot,” he said, while trying to work out what was happening.  The dreams, they never ended like this.

“Not today, a few days ago.  At the Hub.”

It was Tony’s turn to be frozen with shock.

“The,” he swallowed the lump forming in his throat.  “The Hub?”

“Yeah, I-I’m sorry, I-”

He cradled her face in his hands, searching her eyes with his.

“Don’t be sorry.”  Tears began to fall.  “Don’t you ever be sorry, sweetheart.  Not for that.  Not for what happened there.  Not…” he trailed off, trying to maintain his composure, to soak in every moment with her before he would wake up from this dream.

“Tony, are you ok?”

He nodded, a sad smile on his lips.

“In the real world, Tony.  Are you ok when you’re awake?”

“When I…”

“Are you eating?  Are you sleeping?  Are you,” Evelyn felt her throat begin to tighten.  “Are you ok?”

His thoughts were spinning.  What kind of trick was his mind trying to play on him?

Evelyn whipped her head out of his light hold, scrutinizing the house beside them.

“Ev?”

“You hear that?”

A light knocking sound.

“You get a lot of visitors around here?” she asked.

“None,” he said, joining her in trying to zero in on the sound as it became louder.

More of a bang than a knock.

“Who could be-”

“Ward,” Evelyn breathed.

“Who?” Tony asked, then saw her panic stricken face.  “Ev?”

“I gotta go,” she said quickly, searching around them for an exit.

“Wait, no, I’m not ready,” he said, and grasped her hand in his.

“I gotta go, Tony!  My life depends on it.”

“Your-”

“If I don’t wake up right now-”

“Ev.”

The banging grew louder.

“Tony, please,” she gave his hand a squeeze, “find me.”

He felt his stomach drop.

She leaned in, going for a kiss before she had to wake up.