#something something tango becomes one of the beasts in decked out

[owtenen]

hc where tango knows that the more the dungeon is built the more it requires from him. hc where tango knows as he goes deeper into decked out his biology changes (cough cough blue fire tango) and he just… can’t be away from the beasts for too long. hc where, despite everything that pulls him to the surface, tango knows the only way for the dungeon to be truly complete is that he becomes part of the deepest depths of decked out and never resurfaces again

[theminecraftbee]

Once again, Zedaph finds himself outside the closed gates of the Deep Frost Citadel, tapping his feet with annoyance. Honestly, by now you’d think the stupid thing would understand Zedaph always gets his way, when it comes to Tango, but no, Tango’s stupid base keeps trying to stop him.

“I told you, I’m not here to negotiate, I’m here to pick up my friend,” Zedaph says irritably. The gates of the base don’t respond, and don’t open. “I have a very important nap to be taking, I’ll have you know, and I will not be stopped by… by base chicanery!”

There’s a deep, rolling growl from somewhere in the bowls of the citadel. It sounds like ravagers.

“Oh, don’t you threaten me, you know I’ll run around and die in there all you want as soon as it’s ready. Not even afraid, am I? You’ve had your taste of the good old Zed flesh, but no sir, you aren’t getting me today. The high-voltage wires were a good trick last time I came to bother Tango, I admit, but it won’t work again!”

Another rumbling growl. Zedaph huffs. It would certainly be nice if Decked Out spoke in human to him, so he wouldn’t have to keep guessing. Even sheep would be better—Tango may have an affinity for beasts, but Zedaph only has an affinity if the beasts are also silly.

He makes an educated guess. “Yes, yes, I know you’ve ‘eaten him’ or whatever. Well I’ll have you know that Tangos have more nutritional value after watching me take a very important nap. And also dying. Its enriching. You like enriched Tango—okay, okay, that wasn’t the complaint, geez, you don’t have to shout at me. At this rate I’ll just use my pickaxe to break through the door, and then what will you do, huh? Nothing. You’ll do nothing, because you’re a big stupid building in the ground, and Tango was my friend first.”

A rumble.

“Haha, yeah, take that. We’ve been friends for years. You might be his magnum opus, but you’ve never made him sign a custom body pillow with your beautiful face on it, have you? That is the bond of men! No base can do anything about that.”

A louder rumble. Zedaph feels what he thinks is supposed to be fear and desire to wander into the depths and die or something silly like that. Zedaph isn’t certain, because it’s not as important as Zedvancements. This is one of Zedaph’s special abilities: if it’s not as important as whatever he’s doing right now, he’s very good at ignoring it until it becomes important. So, like, the Citadel is trying to lure him to his death, but that’s less important than taking a very deadly nap while Tango watches with horrified awe, so he’ll just ignore it until later.

Works every time.

“Listen, I’ll bring him back in one piece! Have I ever lied about that? I never do. He always comes right back to work, even when I do distract him, and he’s chipper again, right? I barely even disrupt things. Not that you could do anything if I did, of course, you hunk of stone and ice.”

Zedaph stares at the closed doors for a bit longer. He thinks this is about when anyone else would either die on the spot, or run away screaming, or maybe just come in and feed themselves to a ravager, but the that’s because the other hermits very frequently don’t have anything better to do than to get caught up in other people’s nonsense, in Zed’s experience.

Zedaph simply has so much nonsense of his own that he can out-stubborn even Tango’s base. Like he said: a special talent.

Slowly, as though greatly reluctant, the gates open.

“Thank you, geez! Was that so hard?”

Zedaph stomps through to the hidden access door of the Decked Out maintenance tunnels, grabbing one of the supplemental oxygen masks as he does. He sighs as he realizes that Tango, once again, has forgotten he needs to breathe. Hopefully, the fact Zedaph is currently keenly aware of needing to breathe on account of planning to not do that ten times in a row does not remind Tango.

He finds Tango taking a nap tangled in some high-voltage redstone lines. This time, Zedaph knows better than to touch them. It had been a mite embarrassing the last time. “Tango! Hey, Tango!”

“Wuh?” says Tango, eloquently. “I’m up, I’m up, level three’s almost done I swear—”

“Tango, get up, I have bedroom tricks to show you!” Zedaph says.

“I’m up! Zed? Oh hey! What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I told you. It’s urgent, Tango, urgent. I have bedroom tricks only you can assist me with.”

“Well, that’s a good time I wasn’t expecting,” Tango says.

“No, you idiot! Get your head out of the gutter, and come on! I have things to do!”

“Okay, Zedaph, geez, geez, lemme just—”

“I’ve already asked your stupid base,” Zedaph says. “It’s fine. Now, get out of those wires before I get shocked or something, and we’re going to go have fun.”

Tango slowly uncoils himself. “Right. I’ll get ready and—” Zedaph whips a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket. Tango pauses before smiling brightly. “Oh, you’re the best.”

“I really am,” agrees Zed, and he grabs his best friend’s hand and leads him out of the Deep Frost Citadel to show off his latest contraption. He turns around and sticks his tongue out for good measure at the base as they go. Hah. Take that. The best. There’s no beating it.

And there’s no keeping him away from Tango. Zedaph guarantees it.

[reflingthefox]

Zedaph probably should've guessed it right away.

Tango told him about Rancher's Revenge, when that one game came to its end and he was back on the server, open to spend a day unwinding, resting and chatting. It was surely a feat, a big bucket of skill to channel into wrangling the warden, and Zedaph had nothing else to say but grin and nod at Tango's voice ringing with pride. But there was something else in his voice - something softer, something warmer as he talked about the deep dark beast chasing poor gamemates. Something Zedaph remembered ringing true in his own chest, everytime he handled his sheep and pigs and whatever animals were to become his collaborators today.

Zedaph's used to discard this feeling easily, everytime this collaborating means an untimely demise. So that's not a big deal to him, that day.

What is a big deal, today, is that Decked Out's closed. The third week is underway, and big strong names like Doc and Cub are spending up their shards left and right - and then, the dungeon's closed "for a momentary maintenance", and Tango's not picking up his calls.

Zedaph climbs down the hill, through the freezing embrace of his snow tunnel, and sticks his head out through the I-Spy hole. Traversing the dungeon is harder these days, even without challenging it - Decked Out is in her full power, rumbling and growling at everyone who dares to step deeper, a watching, hungering presence. It's not the only presence Zedaph feels this starkly, though, and so he gently pats a berry bush, trails his bloodied hand over the icy wall as a peace offering, and sneaks forward.

It doesn't take too much time to find him. Tango's kneeling in one of the rooms left to the Crypt, eyes studying the empty shelves. Zedaph thinks for a moment something might be wrong with the compass location - or with one of the easter eggs? - but as he comes closer, he sees Tango's hands strained, knuckles probably white under those ornate gloves, grasping onto the dark leather saddle on his knees.

Zedaph should've guessed it sooner. But at least he knows it now, at this moment, when he comes closer to kneel beside Tango and curl an arm around his shaking back. When he puts his hand over the saddle as well, to trace the half-faded "Tango's Cough" embroidered into the leather, and looks deeper into the dusty shelves to see the rows of the leather harnesses tucked out of view. When he doesn't say a word, pressing Tango into himself, as soundless shivers wreck his dearest friend's body.

There isn't really a force in the world to make a Tango Tek cry.

Maybe, Zedaph thinks, trying to keep his breathing steady and his soothing hug firm, thinking of every hungry, murderous creature Tango branded with a name and a part of his soul, feeling the weight of grief settling in his stomach - maybe if he could, if would've helped.

[theminecraftbee]

so I know I went one direction with “decked out eating tango” already but now I’m rotating the idea of. something a little different. something more like—tango’s been getting hungry, lately. it started in december, after zedaph ran the dungeon for the first time. something that clawed against the inside of his stomach. he could ignore it, then, but if he had to think, that’s when he started getting hungry.

but it’s gotten worse, and worse, and worse. scar keeps on dropping in and then throwing cookies at him. zedaph makes disapproving noises and forces him to go on picnics. one time, impulse dragged tango on a tour of all the food on the server. but the thing is, it’s not that he’s not eating? he’s missing some meals, sure, but every single hermit who calls him out for occasional missed meals is a hypocrite and they know it. if anything, though, when he remembers to eat, he’s eating more. he’s so hungry. he’s so hungry.

but he’s losing weight anyway. and he decides to ignore it. he doesn’t know what else to do. he sits down with xisuma quietly one day to make sure he gets more calories than normal, and then he ignores it. he keeps working. if something’s wrong, surely it can’t be that wrong. he’s just—cold. the tips of his fingers and ears are cold. and his stomach always hurts. and frankly, if he’s desperate to finish decked out, finally sets a date even though he doesn’t think it’s completely ready, well—

he’s not sure, exactly, actually. he just knows he needs the hermits to run it. and that after that, maybe he’ll find time to figure out why he’s had shaky hands and blurry vision and cold fingers for the past two months. why he’s been hungry for longer.

he has more cookies shoved at him by scar on opening day. he goes through them nervously. they don’t do anything for him, really, but they do momentarily make him feel better, and make it easier to pretend he doesn’t need to be mother-henned. (despite the jokes, he can take care of himself, and he does actually leave the cave, and he’s trying to figure out what else could be wrong so he doesn’t really want more well-meaning jokes about missing meals. he knows. he knows.)

he curls up above decked out, once scar starts his run. he takes a deep breath. he touches the wires, lets some part of his mind leave his body, and he watches scar run the dungeon.

a growl, from somewhere, rises deep in tango’s throat.

he watches scar lose. watches scar’s body fall to the ground at a ravager’s feet.

spend enough time amongst beasts and become one, he thinks, to whatever extent he is even capable of thinking in that moment. it’s not much, though. the amount of thinking he’s capable of, as his body moves practically without his input, is not much.

because tango suddenly knows exactly what he’s so hungry for.