#will they still suffer in my fanfic ??

[sleepwalkersqueen]

how everyone coping?

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Still feral over my Hua Cheng and Mu Qing being brothers au by the way. I did not in fact get over it.

[least-carpet]

'replacing jc in someone's affection' I am crying! wwx doesn't do it once but twice! It's fascinating! Also, this makes me understand why some people, reading the novel, come to the conclusion that wwx doesn't care anymore about jc. Yeah, it's a valid interpretation!

Listen, I just rotated, and rotated, and rotated this scenario (—because, like, both child and adult Wei Wuxian are sincerely in need of support and affection, but I think receiving it as a child while it was withheld from someone he loved, what might have seemed like taking it away from someone who also needed it, also contributed to his boundary problems and self-sacrificial tendencies and eventual resentment—like he needs it but it hurts someone he loves deeply when he gets it but he still needs it, how can he reconcile these conflicting truths?? OK I will stop now—) and, uh, have a tiny little sketch of that zhanchengxian fic concept below, with which I will exorcise my sad past chengxian/past zhancheng/current wangxian thoughts.

It was going to be a perfect triple triple drabble but I needed 80 more words in the centre section to describe Jiang Cheng's tears. You know how it is.

Pursued by Lesser Ghosts

At first he was busy and grateful for it.

Then, Jin Ling settled, elders cowed, sect in order, Jiang Cheng was forced to returned to Lotus Pier. Empty, now.

His sect ran as it always did. He slept poorly. He dreamed often. He walked up and down the pier at night, pursued by lesser ghosts, echoes of people who were alive, just gone. His own life closed around him as tight as any noose, one long merciless sequence of work, sleep, work.

He had a minor qi deviation.

“Go back to dual cultivation,” said the doctor.

“That’s no longer possible,” he said.

The doctor looked up. When Jiang Cheng didn’t say anything else, she said, “Well. Come here for acupuncture once a week. Consider visiting Jin Ling.”

Relax, she didn’t bother to say.

Jiang Ping, his one surviving cousin, took tea with him, and said: “I know things have been stressful. Perhaps you would consider marriage now?”

“I didn’t think marriage was relaxing,” said Jiang Cheng, drily.

“It can be. After everything, well… it’s nice to have someone there.” Jiang Ping looked up, thinking. “Having someone there and working a lot. I don’t think it’s possible for Sect Leader to work harder, so you’ll have to try the other thing.”

Jiang Cheng let out a snort despite himself. Jiang Ping grinned at him.

He could get married, he supposed. What was there to prevent him?

He didn’t call for a matchmaker. He worked harder, kept himself so busy he could hardly think, but at night, laying in his bed, he ached with loneliness before sleep. And in sleep, he saw them, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian both, invariably walking away from him, hand in hand.

Sometimes he was silent; sometimes he called to them. It didn’t matter. They never turned around.

-

In Wei Wuxian’s dream, it was high summer, air as thick as syrup, and he was lying under the trees along the riverbank with his head in Jiang Cheng’s lap.

Above him, Jiang Cheng was eating tanghulu. Playfully, Wei Wuxian opened his mouth like a baby bird, and Jiang Cheng, rolling his eyes, took a piece of fruit and fed it to him, red and almost glowing. His index finger brushed against Wei Wuxian’s mouth.

Sometimes, he dreamed and he didn’t know whether it was just a dream or a fragment of a memory. He thought this might have happened—he faintly remembered begging Jiang Cheng to let him rest his head in his lap, across his narrow, muscled thighs.

Suddenly it was night, and Jiang Cheng was gone.

“Jiang Cheng?” called Wei Wuxian, and found his voice was a child’s voice, high-pitched and nervous. “Jiang Cheng?”

He rushed through Lotus Pier, now dark and empty, towards Jiang Cheng’s room. Then, in the way of dreams, Jiang Cheng was in front of him, a child again, too, face swollen with tears as he wept alone on the pier.

Wei Wuxian froze, panicked.

Someone picked him up; Uncle Jiang had appeared. But instead of saying anything, he turned and walked away. “Uncle Jiang,” Wei Wuxian whispered, but Jiang Fengmian didn’t respond.

All Wei Wuxian could do was look over Uncle Jiang’s shoulder at Jiang Cheng, at his crumpled, sobbing face. You don’t understand, he thought, suddenly, I love you but I need this, I need it, I need it.

That face changed again, blurred into Jiang Cheng's adult face, still weeping as he knelt on the pier. And then the strong arms around him weren’t Uncle Jiang’s but Lan Zhan’s, holding him tight in a bridal carry, taking him away as he squirmed to look back, to not look away from Jiang Cheng’s face, they had been so happy only a moment ago—

Wei Wuxian woke late, his face wet. Went to look for a handkerchief. Opened a drawer he hadn’t looked in before to find: two purple hair ribbons. An open jar of salve, carved with the insignia of a well-known Yunmeng herbalist. And a lavender handkerchief, embroidered with a little frog. Wei Wuxian traced it gently with his thumb.

-

The day was a little crisp, but bright and beautiful. Lan Wangji had risen at the appointed time, eaten breakfast serenely with the sect, and taught some advanced guqin lessons. Lan Sizhui was coming along beautifully, playing more delicate and precise every day, a delight to teach.

Everything was just as it should be in the Cloud Recesses, but Lan Wangji was still somehow uneasy.

He had gained everything he had dreamed of as a teenager, in one bewildering fell swoop. His life had been overturned, but for the better, the man he had wanted for so long delivered to him on a silver platter. He was unbelievably lucky.

Of course, he grieved what had happened to his brother. Lan Xichen deserved only good things. It was bitter to find out someone you had loved so deeply had deceived you—had failed you—had abandoned you.

But with the exception of that dark spot, the suffering and absence of his brother, his life was everything he had ever asked for, wasn’t it? A pristine life, on the surface.

If there was a dark shadow underneath, the ripple of something passing through a lake on a sunny day—something slipping out of an incautious hand, lost to the water—that too was life, wasn’t it?

He had never been so happy in his life. He had never before been so happy in his life, as he had once imagined it.

He averted his eyes from that shadow.

Until, one day, he returned home, and found Wei Ying, sitting at the room’s low table, holding a handkerchief in one hand. Remnants of a different life that had collected in his home. No—that he had kept. Gripped tightly.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, brightly, face stretched in a brittle smile. “What’s this?”

[imari4444]

This is a really rough sketch of the art I wanted to make for chapter 21. It parallels to the art on chapter 20 in both the event portrayed and the emotion behind them.

I find it absolutely crazy how different my art style changed from June to November wth TOT

But while chapter 20 was a drawing of how I imagined Decarabian defeat looking like back BEFORE I wrote it, depicting Venti’s exhaustion and pity for the storm god, This drawing that was meant to be for chapter 21 was a drawing of Venti mourning the children he lost in battle, holding their spirits (the Windwheel asters) close to his heart.

Anyways Im going to try to post chapter 22 by December 9th but…. No promises chat

[ghostie-gengar]

smollusk is both a joy and a nightmare to write

the uwu talk is simultaneously hilarious and painful

[shushmal]

what do we do if steve dies

i'm putting my hands on your shoulders, i am giving you the biggest pep talk as i say this: we shall rejoice!! with much woe and joy, as Steve will finally be freed from the narrative, just a joe keery will finally be freed from his netflix chains!!

Steve can happily join Eddie in fanfic afterlife, where he can never be tied down by an unsatisfying story conclusion!!!

Seriously though, I'LL PROBABLY CRY regardless of my feelings

but in reality, i'd be more upset if he's forced into a weird little 'happy ending' with a like "ten years later and he married to this character we've never met/Nancy" or my BIGGEST FEAR that they retcon robin to bisexual and actually she and steve are end game (this is a real fear, i lie awake a night terrified of it)

Genuinely, I am already aware that I'll not be happy with whatever "happy ending" Duffers/Netflix has planned, as they've long lost my trust over the seasons. The show is very fun and I have and will enjoy watching it, but I'm move invested in how I and other fan writers may rip it a part and make something BETTER. I've long taken canon out back and put it down quietly.

[sorrinslays]

Gepard's role in the story

(crack theory territory)

So, I'm sure I'm not the only one that noticed, but Gepard is extremely underused in the story, which is such a shame?

Like, I counted the times we see him in the main story and it's disappointing. We (Astrall Express Crew) see him at the start after Sampo ditches us, where he takes us to Cocolia and all, then we see him again at the end of the story when he's trying to stop us because he believes we are trying to harm the Supreme guardian and he fights us and his Sister and that's it. We don't see him again.

Then, when Topaz comes to Jarillo VI he is there for two scenes again. One where he tries to stop Topaz and gets ambushed and one at the end where he stops a woman from getting crushed to death.

Even in 'his' (Serval's) companion quest, he takes the backseat. Sure, the story was about Serval and her getting over Cocolia and Gepard's role was him just trying to show Serval that she is still needed in Belobog, but honestly they could've done more with him.

I think people forget that he doesn't know the truth of what really happened to Cocolia? (as far as I'm aware at least). Can you imagine if he learned the truth? The mental breakdown that he'll experience?

This man has been serving her for the better part of a decade. He was spoon-fed propaganda like that Underworlders are 'wild' (an item description mentions that he had to fight 'wild Underworlders' I'm pretty sure) and blindly following the Supreme Guardian's orders for years. How is he supposed to react when he learns that those 'necessary sacrifices' of his fellow guards was just an excuse to get rid of more Belobogians for the 'dream' the Stellaron promised Cocolia.

Don't forget, he knew those people. They were friends, comrades, people he saw everyday. And all of them were dying on the daily and he was powerless to do anything.

And when he learns the truth, how is he gonna react to Bronya's decision to cover it up? Were the deaths of his friends in vain? Do their families not deserve to know the truth as to why their loved ones died? How much blood does the late Supreme Guardian have on her hands? How much of it has transferred to Bronya? How much blood does Gepard have on his hands because he never questioned his orders?

Point is, he is so important to Belobog, he's the Goddamn Captain of the only military service they have there, obviously he is needed! So why underuse him so much?

Well, this is where we move more into theory territory. I think it ties in with a future Belobog quest that Black Swan's companion quest hinted at (at the end during Sampo's and Sparkle's conversation).

Since Gepard has been on the backburner, we have yet to see Sampo and Gepard interacting and the fact Sampo still doesn't have a companion quest even though he is an important lore character I think all of that will happen in the future.

I think it would work best as a quest without the Astral Express Crew, like the new POV mechanic or the cut aways used in the Loufu for Dan Heng. We could play as Gepard or Sampo as they are forced to work together for whatever reason.

We could play as Gepard as something big happens in the restricted zone (AKA the catastrophe Sparkle teased Sampo about). Maybe he gets informed about it (maybe we get a new 4* character that's a guard that informs Gepard) and when he makes it there, Sampo is already here, as if expecting it.

Maybe Bronya calls Gepard to her office after an anonymous tip was sent to her warning the Silvermane Guards of a catastrophe coming to Belobog. Maybe he is tasked with finding who sent the note as well as prepering for said catastrophe, which is how he runs into Sampo, having the two working together.

Maybe we play as Sampo, leaving clues for the Silvermane guards until we reveal ourselves, getting that 5* version. Maybe we are the one pushing the puzzle pieces so they fit on their own or maybe all through the quest we keep cutting back to a game of chess between Aha and Sampo, showing the unpredictable nature of the catastrophe as it was orchestrated by Aha just for shits and giggles.

Either way, this works great as a pathway to seeing:

a) the dynamic between Sampo (arguably the most mysterious character to come from Belobog) and Gepard (resident bbg)

b) 5* Sampo

c) (and this is mostly me playing around with concepts) Gepard becoming an emanator, becoming the first on screen character to be turned into an emanator

d) a great end to Sampo's character arc by becoming a part of Belobog (maybe he even becomes part of the Silvermanes as a detective)

e) more Geppie screen time and exploration of his character

(a few extra ramblings from my demented as a treat)

I think it's criminal that Gepard doesn't have his own companion quest and he's practically shoved in his sister's, and considering that Sampo doesn't have his own......................

I think it would be fair to have these two in a companion quest of their own.

I'm thinking of a quest where Sampo becomes a Silvermane guard (a detective to be more precise) and Gepard learns the truth about Cocolia.

I can imagine that during some investigation that Gepard is having a hard time with due to the Underworlders not trusting the Silvermane guards, he is forced to seek Sampo's help. So through Natasha, he gets ahold of Sampo and the two work together where Gepard, through investing a shady group learns what actually happened to Cocolia as well as all the lies he's been getting spooned-fed for years.

One mental breakdown and emotional conversation between the two later, they catch the criminals and Gepard takes it upon himself to make Sampo part of the Silvermane guards because of how helpful he's actually been recently (main story + new quest with the catastrophe + the companion quest + helping the Underworld in general).

The companion quest ends with Sampo becoming a detective (Heizou from Genshin Impact style) where he wants to prevent crimes from happening before they even committed. His reason being 'criminal to detective is pretty stereotypical and Aha might blow up the planet' so he challenges himself to stop crime before it's committed to keep Aha entertained enough that they don't blow up the planet but uninterested enough that they don't actively observe.

I think it would be a great end to both character arcs.

Gepard gets more screentime and learns to question orders (it'd be nice to see his friendship with Bronya damaged, cause technically he is her uncle (Cocolia adopted Bronya while she was still in a relationship with Serval, making him an uncle)). Maybe he also reaches the conclusion of still being a Silvermane Guard for the sake of protecting the people but not actively following the Supreme Guardian because he lost faith in her.

Sampo gains a home and (gasp) love (platonic, romantic, doesn't matter). He'll feel like he belongs somewhere, a permanent home. Not matter if he leaves the planet for a day or a year, he'll still be welcome. His reputation improves and his skill is used for the betterment of Belobog. His mask is allowed to slip, even just a little.

[purplina]

i think about the McClain’s siblings so much it’s not funny anymore

(from left to right : 17yo Luis, 13yo Veronica, 7yo Rachel, 7yo Lance, 16yo Marco) this is not canon backstory, it is for the fanfic thingy i’m working on

(i also have an instagram now wow : purplina_drawing.book)

[trickstarbrave]

this is not proofread. and i am half awake

but i have FINALLY finished the fucking. nerevoryn omegaverse au fic. no one else has written it yet, so i will be the one to bear the burden. i will commit the first sin and take all the stones you throw.

sorry that this is mostly not even smut, just me messing around with worldbuilding. i have worldbuilder's disease. i have even MORE thoughts about this setting i have inevitably left out. but. well. they fuck in the end okay

special shout out my mutual who posted an omegaverse tweet bc i was really blanking on the smut for some reason. i couldnt get it working right???? like it wasn't interesting. but we got there with the help of the tweet.

content warnings: standard omegaverse shit. heats, ruts, biting, impregnation kink, knots, you get it. omegas have vaginas as far as im concerned bc it just makes more sense to me. give it a shot as i have played with stereotypes and tried to make it interesting i hope

There were, despite the stereotypes, perks when it came to being an omega. In fact, in a way, stereotypes could be one of the perks, if you played your cards right. And if there was anything Nerevar knew how to do, it was use anything and everything to his advantage. 

There was a common belief omegas were all delicate, gentle hearted peace-keepers--or worse, treasures that lay in wait for some big strong alpha to come take them. It wasn’t like there were no docile, delicate omegas, but Nerevar was certainly not the type. He could make peace all right--with persuasion and his blade however, not rolling over with his belly up begging everyone to stop fighting. 

Most people thought he was an alpha given how headstrong he was and how quickly he took charge of situations. That, or he was an alpha-leaning beta given he was usually able to keep his cool in difficult situations, especially around alphas acting territorial and puffing out their chests. Nerevar never bothered correcting them either way; sure, he could turn himself into some moral champion of omegas and prove they could be just as capable politicians and warriors, but the more likely outcome was everyone he told would take him significantly less seriously. And that would mean more heads would have to roll and well, Nerevar didn’t like cleaning up messes. 

He still had heats, having to retreat into his room for days at a time, but no one said anything. Just as easily he could be locked away in a rut, or praying to Azura for several days on end. No one dared question him, and only the most trustworthy attendants were allowed anywhere near his room to be able to smell the difference. 

On the plus side, Nerevar had many things he used to his advantage; in all honesty, the fact people thought Nerevar was a beta wasn’t unfounded. Even when an alpha went into a rut, he was mostly unbothered by it. A bit of discomfort, not to mention he needed a long bath afterwards to get the smell off him, but unlike some omegas where the scent of an alpha in rut had them going into heat right away, Nerevar seemed mostly unaffected and could force the instinct down. And, through careful control of his mental state, he could usually calm most alphas down without them being the wiser about Nerevar’s secondary sex and wanting to take him for themselves. His seeming immunity from an alpha in rut was often the subject of multiple jokes by Almalexia, as the two of them would mostly sit around, having a few drinks in the quiet of her room. Well, that was until she took Vivec as her mate, then most of her ruts were spent with the warrior-poet instead. 

Hence why, when his meeting with Voryn had been canceled last minute after he already made his way to Kogoruhn, he simply strolled to Voryn’s room, humming casually with a couple books and food for the other. 

Much like Nerevar, Voryn was also an… Interesting example of an alpha. Voryn was usually pegged more so as a beta based on his behavior, until you got a whiff of pheromones when you pissed him off. He wasn’t as outwardly aggressive and territorial as far as most people were concerned, but Nerevar knew him well. He disguised it as dedication and love for his house, or loyalty to those close to him, but he was indeed territorial. And instead of outward aggression, picking fights and throwing fists, he preferred to temper his aggression and instead attack them when they least expected it. He may look like he forgives and forgets, but in truth he was a viper laying in wait to strike. 

Nerevar knocked, careful not to drop the few books tucked under his arm, hearing the low growl that followed. 

“Out.” Voryn hissed, and Nerevar bit back a laugh.

“It’s me,” Nerevar clarified. “I brought you some books and some food. Servants said you haven’t eaten since yesterday.” Voryn, unlike his typically cool demeanor, was vicious and snippy in a rut. Since Nerevar grew up alongside him, he knew it very well, getting chased away from Voryn’s door every time. Well, that and the servants and other members of House Dagoth would shoo him away, warning him not to go near. It was customary to keep young alphas and omegas apart during heats and ruts respectively, for good reason. No one wanted any injured teenagers or anyone carrying children way too young. But Nerevar could still see it in the aftermath—scratch marks and bruises on Gilvoth after he came to force his younger brother to eat, broken furniture, a smashed window at one point—luckily he calmed down from physical violence as he got older. If he hadn’t, he doubted Kogoruhn would still be standing with all the magic the lord knew. 

“All the more reason to tell you to leave.” Voryn huffed. 

“You know ruts don’t bother me.” Nerevar snarked. “Hurry up and open the door before I drop your food.” 

After some groaning and growling, eventually Voryn did open the door, to which Nerevar quickly darted inside before he could take the tray and shove him out. 

“You are an idiot.” Voryn groaned as Nerevar set the tray of food on the desk, before tossing the books onto Voryn’s bed. “But that’s nothing new anymore.” 

“I told you, ruts don’t bother me.” Nerevar chuckled, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in the air as always. At the very least, Voryn’s scent wasn’t offensive; some alphas made him feel disgusting, if not a little nauseous. Voryn’s was much more familiar and a lot more welcomed, given he was used to it in much smaller quantities over the years. In fact, it was kind of nice; warm, a bit spicy, and nostalgic. 

“I can’t help but fear you’re just playing with fire when you say things like that.” Voryn sighed, before plopping himself on the bed. He was dressed very loosely, no doubt feeling hot and antsy. Nerevar, unbothered, also sat beside him with a grin on his face. 

“Come on, I’m not being that reckless.” 

“You’re tempting fate, that’s what you’re doing.” Voryn huffed. “But you’ve always been like that, haven’t you? Always pushing your luck to its limits until it blows up in your face.” 

“It hasn’t blown up in my face yet,” Nerevar asserted proudly. “Unlike several of Sil’s little inventions.” Voryn rolled his eyes at that.

“Because you’re constantly poking and prodding at them even when he specifically told you not to, that’s why.” Nerevar, seeing as Voryn was making a good point, instead side-stepped it entirely.

“Come on, you know you get lonely during a rut,” Nerevar instead circled the conversation back around. “Bored, stir crazy, antsy…”

“That’s the nature of a rut so I don’t rip someone to pieces.” Voryn huffed. “I’m not supposed to be relaxing and having fun but defending my territory and looking for a mate as far as my instincts are concerned.” 

“Mm…” Nerevar hummed. “I heard mate does make them easier. At least, as far as Ayem told me.” Nerevar hadn’t minded his wife taking a mate that wasn’t him; in terms of sexual compatibility, Nerevar didn’t find her very appealing. Not that she was ugly or anything--far from it! She was very beautiful, tall, strong… All things an omega should be dying to have in a mate. But there was something about her scent that put him off from ever wanting to mate. Just as well, she didn’t find his scent all that appealing either, and most political marriages didn’t end in mating even in the case of alpha and omega couples. 

“And I am in no mood to tear apart Vvardenfell looking for one.” Voryn scoffed, before laying down on his side. Despite doing so, however, he didn’t look comfortable in the slightest. All of his muscles were tense as he laid there, stiff as a corpse. “I have things to be doing, research to do, meetings to be had--”

“Shh…” Nerevar hushed him, scooting closer to rub his back. At the touch Voryn snarled, before slowly he began relaxing, bit by bit. “There…” Nerevar smiled fondly. “You’ll have time for all of that when this is over. It’s only a couple of days right?” Nerevar asked, before working at a knot on Voryn’s shoulder. “Roll over and I’ll rub your back. You’re way too tense.”

Despite all his huffing and snarling, Voryn did roll over, face planted in a pillow, allowing Nerevar climb on top of him to massage him. For most alphas having an omega crawling on top of them in the middle of a rut like this was no doubt humiliating, but Voryn had in fact relaxed gradually. The scent in the air turned from one of hostility and warning to more of a gentle warmth as Nerevar continued to work knot after knot out of his back. 

“What research are you working on now?” Nerevar asked, hoping some light conversation would help relax him further. 

“Mm…” Voryn groaned softly, fingers clenching and unclenching the blankets under him. “Dwemeri explosive powder…”

“Making it?” Nerevar asked, raising a brow. 

“No,” Voryn clarified. “Dwemer machinery is required to actually… Make it.” He hummed softly as Nerevar rubbed at his lower back, working the especially tense muscles nice and slow. “Machinery far too large and complicated to fit into Kogoruhn.”

“What about it then?”

“Dwarven oil has a number of alchemical properties…” Voryn continued. “I was hoping to test if their explosive powder had any as well.” 

“Without blowing up half of your stronghold, I hope?” At that, Voryn snorted, before rolling over and forcing Nerevar off him now that he was much more relaxed. With a grin, Voryn tugged Nerevar down to be laying beside him.

“Unlike you, I don’t have a track record for blowing things up unintentionally.” 

“You’re back on that again?” Nerevar groaned, offended but still laughing. 

“I’m not the one who brought it up the first time.” Voryn smirked. “Though tell me, how many times has Dumac saved you from nearly stepping on a landmine again?” 

“You’re being an asshole right now, you know that?” Nerevar shot him a playful glare. 

“Well you’re an asshole all the time and it’s never stopped you.” 

And just like that, the two were at it. Was wrestling an alpha in rut a good idea? Not in the slightest. However, the two used to playfully wrestle all the time as children and even teenagers, so it was… Oddly nice to do so again as adults. Typically Nerevar would win due to raw strength alone--and he could right now, of course--but he knew it was probably a terrible idea to piss an alpha off like that in the middle of a rut. So instead, Nerevar just put up a gentle fight, knocking several of the pillows and blankets off the plush bed, along with the books Nerevar brought earlier, all the while laughing. Then, once he felt Voryn was starting to get a bit too aggressive and his movements too hurried, he let the other pin him to the bed. 

“Gods…” Nerevar laughed, breathlessly. “How long has it been since we wrestled like this?”

“Decades.” Voryn replied, equally as breathless. “Mm… But oddly nice to get the energy out.” 

“I told you.” Nerevar grinned. “Nice to move around, get your mind off things… Sitting there stewing in it only makes it worse.” 

“Don’t tell me you go around wrestling people in heat.” Nerevar nearly choked in laughter at that. 

“No!” He had to roll over onto his side, holding his stomach from giggling. “Gods, fuck no! Azura’s mercy, I’m not that insane!” Another few chuckles followed as he tried to compose himself. “I can barely stand anyone touching me once it settles in. Everything feels so… Sharp and uncomfortable.” 

“Does it?” Voryn raised an eyebrow, but climbed off Nerevar to flop down beside him. “That sounds… Unusual.”

Nerevar shrugged. “It’s always been like that.” He admitted as though it were nothing. “You wouldn’t it get it being an alpha, I guess.” 

“Nerevar, I may not be an omega but that doesn’t mean I’m uneducated.” Voryn was oddly stern now, concerned. “Just like how you aren’t an alpha but understand how a rut works.” 

“Look, what do you want me to say?” Nerevar asked. “No healer has ever told me anything is wrong with me. It just seemed the more time that went on, the more… Painful they got?” Nerevar groaned. “Well, not really painful, I’ve found a way around it for the most part--”

“So you’re coping with it like a poorly healed injury.” 

“No!” Nerevar asserted. “It’s not an injury but a normal thing.”

“A normal process that isn’t acting as normal.” 

“Look,” Nerevar rolled his eyes, “You can bother the healers back at the palace about it if you’re so concerned. But I’ve adjusted just fine to my heats. I lay in bed, have all my food ready, stacks of books and what have you, and I deal with it.” Nerevar gave him a playful kick. “Unlike someone who went a whole day without eating.” 

Voryn rolled his eyes, getting up from the bed. “Fine fine, I’ll eat lord Nerevar.” Voryn replied, sarcastically. He then went over to his desk, finally eating the meal Nerevar brought him. 

While he ate, they still chatted and talked, Nerevar laying casually on his bed. It hadn’t been the first time he’d done it, and Nerevar expected it wouldn’t be the last with their close friendship. Even as councilman and king, Nerevar saw them as close friends above all else. The closest friend he had, honestly. 

Yet, as he laid there he found himself feeling… Uncomfortable. The air wasn’t stifling after Voryn calmed down, but Nerevar’s clothes felt… Itchy. Not to mention he was starting to feel feverish. Maybe that wrestling wasn’t a good idea if he was coming down with something, but he didn’t want to leave yet--he was mid conversation, after all, and it seemed like Voryn was still relaxing more and more. But, it wasn’t long until Nerevar was tossing and turning on the bed, trying to feel comfortable. Despite being fully dressed he got that same paranoid feeling he had being out in the open on the battlefield: antsy and exposed. 

“Are you alright?” Voryn had finished by now, coming to the bed to look at him.

“Yeah just--” Nerevar sighed. “Uncomfortable.” Then, realizing how that might be interpreted, tried to cover for it. “Not that your bed is uncomfortable, I just feel… Off, all of a sudden.” 

“How so?”

“My clothes feel itchy--” Nerevar was already scratching at his arms, writhing slightly to try and itch at his back. “It’s not flees, I just bathed… Not to mention it’s not like, bug bite itchy but like my clothes are way too rough…” 

“Stress?” Voryn asked, looking at his arms to ensure he didn’t have a rash. “I could always look at your clothes to be sure.” 

“Not a bad idea.” Nerevar began pulling his shirt up over his head to hand to Voryn who combed it over. Sure enough, the clean cloth had no parasites or bugs crawling around in it, but already Nerevar felt relieved. He kicked off his trousers while he was at it, left only in his undergarments and much more comfortable. 

“Well the fabric is particularly rough.” Voryn remarked. “Thick material, more so used for keeping warm and dry rather than relaxing. Rolling around wrestling in it probably irritated your skin.” Nerevar snorted at that, especially as Voryn tossed one of his own silk robes on top of him. He used to have no problem wrestling in the ash and dust, but now slightly rough fabric was what was going to do him in? Although… The silk robe was a lot more comfortable, the soft fabric almost soothing his skin as he curled up with it on and tied shut, breathing deeply. Voryn’s sheets were also nice and soft… 

“You are also feeling warm though…” Voryn brought the back of his hand to Nerevar’s forehead. “Not to mention I actually beat you at wrestling…” He looked concerned, “You weren’t mucking around the bitter coast again were you? Swamp fever has been on the rise there, and I know how much you love mudcrab hunting more than your own good--” Nerevar rolled his eyes.

“I came straight here from the propylon chamber, Voryn.” He did wear weather appropriate clothes given it was the cold and rainy season in northern VVardenfell, but that was just a precaution. “I wasn’t running around the bitter coast catching mudcrabs, I can assure you.” 

“Here,” Voryn stood up now, pulling the pillows and blankets back on the bed to make Nerevar more comfortable. “Why don’t you just lay down for a few minutes and see if it goes down. If not, I have a cure disease potion around here somewhere…” He then got up after piling them all back on, rummaging through his shelves stocked with an astounding amount of alchemical books, ingredient chests, and potion bottles. ‘Controlled chaos’ as Voryn would say, though Nerevar could never make sense of it. But right now he was more than content to just lay there in the pile of pillows and blankets, breathing in nice and deep as his body started to go from uncomfortably hot to warm and fuzzy. 

“I found it,” Voryn kneeled beside him, beckoning Nerevar to sit up properly. He groaned in annoyance; he just got fucking comfortable, now Voryn wanted him to sit up? But one look at Voryn’s eyes told Nerevar it was just for his own good, so reluctantly and without much fuss he sat up slightly, letting Voryn tilt his head and press the potion bottle to his lips. It briefly occurred to him he could drink it himself but… Well, Voryn was just being a loyal retainer and friend right? Ever loyal, doting Voryn.. Nerevar found that trait of his kind of endearing. 

“Normally when I have to give you medicine you make such a fuss,” Voryn smiled softly, “You’re being a good boy right now, I see.” At the ‘good boy’ comment Nerevar’s breath hitched slightly as he sunk back onto the bed to lay on his side, Voryn piling more of the blankets and pillows around him so he was comfortable. Then, a hand threaded into his hair, rubbing at his scalp just like Nerevar liked, making him positively melt, mewling and moaning softly in pure delight. 

“That’s it…” Voryn purred, “Such a good boy, aren’t you…?” Voryn then laid down behind him, nuzzling against him, his hands brushing across Nerevar’s chest and stomach in soft strokes… 

Ah, Voryn was scenting him, something that wasn’t unwelcomed in the slightest. It was nice; being wrapped up in that warm, musky scent was only making him feel better. People would be able to smell Voryn on him after all, all over his body from his clothes to his hair and skin… Then again, he felt like he never wanted to leave the comfort of Voryn’s bed right now. He was content to just lay there being tended to, Voryn nuzzling him, feeding him, guarding him… 

“Oh Neht,” Voryn buried his face in Nerevar’s neck, breathing in his scent directly, before his tongue swiped at a scent gland. That caught Nerevar’s attention, making him moan louder, squirming in Voryn’s arms. 

“Hey--” Nerevar protested weakly. His mind felt fuzzy, but he knew that was crossing a line at least. “Watch it.” 

“You smell divine…” Voryn purred. “Nice and sweet…” He resumed the licking, leaving Nerevar whining softly, his hips moving in small circles until Voryn pressed his hips firmly against Nerevar’s ass, holding him still with a growl. His cunt throbbed at that, suddenly overcome with the realization he was empty right now, so fucking empty--he needed something in him. Right now. Fingers, a toy, a cock, just something filling him up--

Then, Voryn was pulling back suddenly, jerking his hands away as though he was burned. Nerevar looked up at him confused and dazed, Voryn’s face flushed red. 

“You’re in heat.” Voryn murmured, suddenly realizing what was going on. Nerevar, however, took a few moments to process his words, before anxiety bubbled up inside him.

“No I’m not--” He wasn’t the type to go into heat smelling an alpha in rut. He had never done so before, and he wasn’t due for his heat for a few months anyways. Besides, when he was in heat he was nesting and--

Nerevar glanced at the pillows and blankets Voryn had put around him, realizing when he had done so Nerevar felt much more secure and comfortable. He’d been antsy before, paranoid and feeling exposed until the soft, plush walls were around him. He also felt more sensitive to his clothes, feeling warm and aroused-- 

“I-I hate people touching me in heat,” Nerevar tried to explain quickly, sitting up and panicked. “I can’t be…” That was right, he couldn’t be. He hated being touched during his heat, growling and hissing as the touch was physically painful. But Voryn touching him hadn’t hurt at all, it felt…

Nerevar’s hands were trembling as he got up quickly, tugging the robe shut firmly and making sure the tie was secure, before he took off running for the propylon chamber. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he just knew he needed to not be there anymore. Something was wrong with him after all; very, very wrong with him. He paid no mind to Voryn calling after him, even as his anxiety spiked hearing the concern and anger in his voice; he just kept running through the halls, sprinting past servants and attendants until he made it to the chamber, giving quick orders to send him to Mournhold before he was teleported away. 

At the palace, Nerevar didn’t stop to catch his breath either. The air felt cold and stifling as he continued running, spriting like a mad man until he made it to his room where he swiftly locked the door. He drew the curtains, blocking out the light until it was dark, his anxiety still not ceasing. He tripped on a chair in his scramble, swearing up a storm as he kicked and snarled, breaking a leg off the chair. He then grabbed it as he stood, throwing it to the wall resulting in the wood splintering against the heavy stone and knocking several tapestries down. Now in darkness he retreated to his bed, trying to curl up to find comfort.

His bed felt wrong. Wrong, disgusting, cold, uncomfortable… Even as he moved the blankets and pillows he just felt worse. None of them were as comfortable as Voryn’s bed, covered in his scent…

Nerevar tugged the robe off, burying his face in it, whining softly. The scent, despite being musky and strong, was so comforting. He never used to find an alpha’s scent so soothing before, why now? Even when he was in heat he’d growl if any alpha even so much as came near his room, so why this? Why now?!

A few servants knocked on the door, calling for him alarmed. Then a few healers. He didn’t respond to any of them, laying there in silence, too ashamed to even tell them to leave. It felt like his skin was crawling, and he simultaneously felt both hyper-aggressive and like he had no strength in him. Then it was Almalexia, knocking.

“Nerevar?!” He growled weakly; he didn’t want anyone to see him, let alone a different alpha--no, he needed to get rid of that mindset. Voryn wasn’t special, at least, not as an alpha. Voryn was his closest friend yet, but if he didn’t want to be seen by anyone, that meant anyone. Especially not Voryn, an alpha in rut, when he was obviously in heat. 

“Are you injured?” She asked. “What happened in Kogoruhn--” A few more people spoke quietly to her, their voices too hushed for him to hear. In the back of his mind, he knew it was only logical she’d ask; he did come sprinting through the palace in one of Voryn’s robes, running like a pack of nix-hounds were trying to kill him. What was supposed to be a political meeting ending in such a sight would be a great cause of concern--one Nerevar should smooth over before anyone marched to Kogoruhn accusing Voryn of treason. But he didn’t have the energy to do so; all he wanted to do was curl up and forget the rest of the world entirely. 

“Nerevar,” It was Vivec now, knocking at his door, voice level and a bit softer than how he usually spoke, “The healers are here, will you let them in?”

“I don’t need to see a healer.” He growled, enraged. It was stupid; Nerevar knew something was wrong with his body, but the idea of being seen by a bunch of strangers right now poking and prodding at him felt like a fate worse than death.

“Voryn is here.” A sensation ran straight through Nerevar he didn’t have a proper name for. Anticipation? Anxiety? Want? It was impossible to place, but it made him feel restless. “Would you prefer to see him?”

“No!” Nerevar suddenly snapped, his voice much louder than it had to be. He was terrified of what would happen if he saw Voryn again right now. Part of him wanted to, deep down; he wasn’t this restless and anxious simply laying in Voryn’s bed. In fact he felt nice--warm and fuzzy and safe. But he didn’t know what was going on, or what would happen if he followed that thread of desire to the end.

“Did Voryn hurt you?” Vivec asked, trying to get answers. 

“He didn’t hurt me--” Nerevar snapped at that as well. Voryn would never hurt Nerevar. He knew that much. His whole body was screaming, suddenly offended at even the idea. Voryn had been trying so hard to take care of Nerevar, made sure he was comfortable, fed him medicine and even made a nest for him… A wave of heat washed over him quickly at the memory, followed by a spike in anxiety. “I just--I don’t know what’s going on!” 

A few moments of silence followed, before Vivec sighed. “Let me come in.” That seemed less risky than healers he hardly knew or an alpha. Nerevar’s brain, as was so common while in heat, was in survival mode after all, constantly looking out for any potential threat. But Vivec was another omega, and a bonded one at that. Someone close to him and trusted.

After Nerevar gave a quiet answer, Vivec unlocked the door with a spell, slipping inside and then shutting and locking the door behind him. He approached the bed slowly, not sitting on it or touching him. 

“Tell me what happened and I’ll tell the others.” His voice was quiet, knowing just how jumpy and aggressive an omega could get in this state.

“I…” Nerevar swallowed. He didn’t want to recount it, embarrassed now that his luck had in fact run out just like Voryn said it might. “Ruts don’t usually trigger heat in me.” Nerevar said, his voice wavering.

“I’m aware.” 

“But it was…” Nerevar gave a shaky sigh. “I don’t… Know what happened. My body just started… Going into heat all of a sudden while I was laying on his bed, without me even realizing it.” Normally he could tell the warning signs of an impending heat: irritability, hunger, defensiveness, physical discomfort, even a sensitivity to light. “I also hate being touched when I’m in heat, it fucking hurts,” He hissed softly, remembering the warm, welcomed touch of Voryn’s hands on him as the other scented him. His skin burned despite no one touching him at the moment, and he wanted the relief of Voryn once again. Vivec still raised an eyebrow at that. “It always does but then I… It didn’t hurt when he was touching me. It felt… Nice. Relaxing.” Vivec hummed contemplatively at that. 

“When he realized I was… Going into heat he pulled away. And I realized it too and panicked and ran back here.” He did regret making a scene but he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do. 

“I’ll speak with the healers.” The most they’d be able to do was a suppressant, but at this point Nerevar would take it. He wanted this feeling to stop. Desperately. 

“Nerevar?!” He heard Voryn’s voice outside the door. “Nerevar, are you alright?” The concern in his voice had Nerevar’s heart racing, but he was still anxious about what would happen if he saw Voryn again. The sensation he was losing control was terrifying, after all. 

“I think it would be best you see him, Neht.” Vivec said simply, moving towards the door. “He’s going to tear the palace apart trying to get to you.” Nerevar’s anxiety only grew at that; what if Voryn got hurt? What if people assumed the worst? Not to mention it was only making the other, strange feelings inside him grow all the more strong at the notion Voryn desperately needed him.

“L…” He hesitated, before he tugged the robe out from under him and back onto his body to make himself decent. “Let him in.” 

As soon as the door was opened, Voryn shoved his way past the guards and Vivec into the room, Vivec retreating outside once more to hush the angered guards, attendants, and healers who wanted to drag him back out. 

“Neht,” Voryn’s voice went hushed as he quickly made his way to the bed, climbing on without a care. Nerevar had half a mind to snap at him, before Voryn was stroking at his skin and scenting him again. He felt himself melting already from the familiar scent filling the room, along with the soothing touch on his skin. “Thank gods you’re alright.” The room still felt wrong, but he felt a hell of a lot better being tended to like this, the burning under his skin slowly fading. 

“Voryn…” He murmured, closing his eyes. He tried to will himself to feel more comfortable; he was in his room, the same place he always was for all of his heats. Maybe it was because there were people outside his door? It was possible; he hated being bothered when he was in heat. 

Then the door opened after a few, pleasant moments, Voryn growling with pure rage. The healer who entered was an older beta woman, but even she shuddered. 

“I mean his majesty no harm.” It was a healer he saw many times in the past. She then glanced at Nerevar in the dim lighting. “I know what happened, Lord Nerevar.” 

Nerevar sat up at that, eager for answers, but Voryn kept an arm wrapped around his waist securely. 

“... In all honesty,” The healer began, sounding exacerbated, “I have never seen a case like this in all my years. But there is only one answer I can come to based on everything else.”

“Go on.” Nerevar tried to keep his voice level rather than annoyed. Azura knows how terrified most people got when he was angry. 

The healer pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“How familiar are you with fated mates?” At her question, Nerevar froze, stunned, before he gave a loud bark of laughter. The healer, however, did not laugh or smile back, and instead only looked more resolute. 

“... Be serious with me.” 

“I am being serious, Lord Nerevar.” 

“Are you--are you seriously trying to say Voryn is my--”

“I understand how strange it sounds at first.” The healer cut him off. “Typically when someone meets their fated mate they determine it quickly. It only takes a few heat or rut cycles before the draw is undeniable.” She sighed once again. “I can only assume because you knew Lord Dagoth before either of you presented, the draw was less noticeable.” 

It kind of made sense, to a degree. When people wrote about fated mates it was usually that they had a scent that was undeniable. Even passing by them on the street, you couldn’t get the scent out of your head for days on end, trying to find it again and again. Even those who tried to deny it couldn’t refuse the pull forever; heats and ruts were unbearable, the longing overwhelming the pair. No one had ever recorded an account of a fated pair who knew each other prior to presenting though; fated mates were absurdly rare, after all. They were more common in fiction than real life, and only the most hopeless of romantics ever went out actually looking for one. Most people just found a mate they liked rather than chase after some destined person, and why fated mates even existed was a mystery. Did everyone have one but distance kept them from finding one? That didn’t seem likely; the most common belief was that some people were born with them--not many members of the population, anyways--and even fewer actually found their ‘other half’. Someone meeting a fated mate before presenting, when you were children not off exploring the wider world yet, was even more unlikely. 

Dumac told him the dwemer scholars believed it had something to do with ‘reproductive compatibility’. Not that it was a mystical, god given connection like some believed, but rather those with a fated partner were less compatible with most of the population, so when they did find someone they could produce children with easily, the desire to mate was enhanced strongly. Nerevar didn’t know if he liked that explanation either though. He found the ideas the gods made destined partners to love each other forever as too romantic of an idea for reality yes, but presuming there must be something wrong with them instead wasn’t much better. 

It didn’t seem likely that he and Voryn could just ignore the draw for decades though, right? Surely that wouldn’t be possible. The draw was supposed to be strong, impossible to deny past a certain point.

Sure, when he was younger and Voryn was in a rut he always came by to check on him before he was shooed away, but that was just boredom. And when he was in heat Voryn would pass him notes under the door from time to time that he’d bury in the nests he made, but that was just because being in heat made him feel sensitive and sappy. Nothing more. And shouldn’t there be something more if they were a fated pair?

“Your other symptoms make me more certain of it.” The healer continued, pulling him from his thoughts.

“How so?” Nerevar raised an eyebrow. 

“It isn’t healthy for an unmated omega to be around an alpha in rut.” She replied, a fact that always made Nerevar roll his eyes. “It causes excess stress, even if it doesn’t trigger a heat. Unless you are drawn to the alpha in question as a potential partner, usually a rut is off putting, distressing, or nauseating for an unmated omega.”

“They’ve never bothered me to that extent.” Nerevar snarked.

“Precisely.” She locked eyes with him. “You handle it more akin to an omega who’s already been mated, despite not having the scent of one.” Nerevar tensed at that. He hadn’t thought of it like that in the slightest; why would he? He wasn’t mated. Anyone could smell on him that he wasn’t. “Those who have met a fated partner experience mated behaviors before the bond is even set. Rejecting other suitors, unbothered by others in a heat or rut,” She sighed. “Lord Vivec even explained you were giving off the same scent as a bonded omega whose mate was absent.” Nerevar’s cheeks flushed at that. 

“That’s--” Nerevar tensed slightly, “I wouldn’t go that far.” Surely Nerevar wasn’t. He wasn’t fucking bonded, why would he be throwing out the same scent as an omega who went into heat, begging for their mate to come tend to them? 

“You were.” She asserted, though she did have some sympathy in her gaze at least. “Unfortunately, the best I can do is, if you truly don’t want the bond, I can give you suppressants. They won’t actively stop it right now given you already went into heat, but they should calm some of the worst side effects for a time.” Nerevar already knew what she was going to say next though. “But your next one will be much the same. The side effects will continue to worsen.” Short of running away to the other side of the continent and burning anything he owned that Voryn had ever so much as touched, he would be able to smell Voryn faintly, after all. In the palace, on his belongings, anywhere Voryn had been might trigger the worst of the symptoms all over again now that he had a heat triggered by his rut no doubt. 

“At the very least, Lord Dagoth is in control of his emotions.” Voryn’s brow twitched at that, his arms tightening. “You can spend ruts and heats together without actually mating, until you come to a decision on how to proceed. It should alleviate both of your struggles.” 

Shit, Nerevar hadn’t even considered what Voryn must be going through. Was his irritation and lack of eating because he subconsciously knew Nerevar was supposed to be his mate but wasn’t there by his side? When he was younger was that out of character, violent rage because he knew, right there in the stronghold, his mate was being kept from him? No doubt the next rut Voryn would be uncontrollable; before he could hold back because he wasn’t consciously aware of what he wanted, but now that he knew it was Nerevar… 

Nerevar felt himself getting all the more wet at the prospect of Voryn tearing his way across the country for him, earning a low growl from Voryn and the healer clearing her throat. 

“I’ll leave the two of you to discuss it.” She said, now turning to leave. Nerevar felt his cheeks flush in a rush of embarrassment; no doubt because he was in heat the arousal led to a surge of pheromones in the air all but begging for Voryn to fuck him. “We will be waiting outside for your answer.” 

As soon as the door shut, Voryn was fussing over him again, marking him with his scent by nuzzling into his hair and against his cheek. But quickly the tension was melting off of Voryn’s body as he began apologizing. 

“I’m so sorry, Neht.” 

“This isn’t your fault.” Nerevar huffed. “I’m the idiot who deliberately stuck around after you told me not to.” 

“You didn’t know either.” Voryn sighed. “I could have made you leave but I… I felt more comfortable with you there.” If it was anything like what Nerevar was going through he could understand it. “Besides… If what the healer said is true then this was bound to happen.” That was also true; it was a miracle it hadn’t happened until now. If it wasn’t Nerevar insisting on spending time with Voryn during a rut, it could just as easily be Voryn stumbling upon him in heat, or anything else really. 

“Do you want to take the suppressants?” Voryn asked, and Nerevar sighed, shaking his head.

“No,” He rubbed his eyes, feeling sluggishness settle into his body. “It’ll help only temporarily, and make it worse next time around.” 

“But they might help you think clearer.” Voryn countered. “I don’t want you making any decisions with a clouded head.” 

“I’m not completely out of it, Voryn. A bit anxious, yes, but it’s not like I’m drunk.” Nerevar hated those kinds of assumptions; the stereotype that omegas were just needy, pathetic little things that couldn’t think for themselves once they were in heat was the most infuriating one. 

At his anger though, Voryn hushed him, nuzzling into his neck apologetically and licking a scent gland. Nerevar huffed at first, still rigid, until the affection soothed him, now groaning softly in delight instead as he head fell to the side to give Voryn more room. 

“Then,” Voryn began, “Would you prefer to stay here?” His hand rubbed soothing circles on Nerevar’s lower stomach. “Or do you want to return to my room?”

“Mm…” Nerevar knew it would probably be easier if he stayed here; he had healers and attendants he was used to, not to mention he knew the layout of his room well and kept it stocked with toys, erotica, anything he needed to help him get off. Even if the two of them only went so far as masturbating together rather than mating, those would be helpful. 

But the room didn’t feel entirely comfortable, even with Voryn there. Damn hormones were likely acting up on that front, but no use arguing with something illogical. 

“Your room is probably better.” He admitted, pulling himself out of Voryn’s arms to start packing. “Let me just get a few things and we can head back. Hopefully without the whole damn palace gossiping about it…”

“It’ll be alright.” Voryn reassured him, rubbing his back gently. “The palace was mostly quiet today.” He then coughed awkwardly, “Before I… Came running through after you.” Nerevar snorted at that. “After how thoroughly I scented you though I doubt most will be able to tell what’s going on.”

“Hopefully.” Nerevar wasn’t keeping it a secret he was an omega exactly, but he didn’t want to go shouting it to the world either. It was better to keep people guessing rather than anyone giving him shit for it unnecessarily. He still grabbed his travel pack, carelessly shoving some comfortable clothes and sleeping robes in, along with a few changes of underwear, and a favorite pillow of his. He also managed to cram in a few toys and a steamy novel he enjoyed, able to smell the spike of Voryn’s arousal at the sight from how strong his pheromones were. 

Another trip through the propylon chamber later--this time less hurried and better dressed, and they were once again walking back to Voryn’s private chambers. On the way there Voryn ordered attendants as they went, requesting a large dinner to be brought to his room that evening for Nerevar too, as well that Nerevar would be staying in Kogoruhn for several days. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Nerevar was going to be spending Voryn’s rut with him, the servants all scrambling at the knowledge. 

Just before they reached the room another healer appeared, handing Voryn several vials of potions, before giving a respectful bow and leaving. Voryn’s cheeks were more red at that, but he took them regardless, letting Nerevar enter the room. 

It was mostly as he left it, albeit with a few blankets and pillows knocked off from his speedy exit and a few tapestries fallen off the wall from a door slamming. A wardrobe was left open, probably from Voryn’s scramble to make himself semi-decent before chasing after Nerevar. 

He tossed his bag to the side of the bed, already feeling relieved to be back. Voryn locked the door behind them, moving to draw the curtains shut as Nerevar began fussing over the pillows and blankets, making sure the bed would be comfortable for him. With more than enough room for Voryn this time, something that had excitement bubbling away in his chest. 

“What are the potions for?” Nerevar asked as he added his own pillow to the bed, still arranging it. It was annoying to do it in heat--normally he got started a few days prior, but whatever. 

“... Birth control.” Voryn admitted, and Nerevar’s hands stopped briefly. 

He knew that was only logical. Even if they ended up going further, actually having sex or mating entirely, most didn’t want to have kids the first time. It took a while to adjust to a mate, see if you wanted to keep the bond… Then again, it was said fated mates couldn’t remove the bond once they did mate.

Still, hearing ‘birth control’ made it seem that much more… Real. They were going to spending Voryn’s rut and Nerevar’s heat together. Very easily one thing could lead to another, and he could… Actually have sex with Voryn. 

“... Better to be prepared than not.” Nerevar finally replied, resuming his work, before flopping into the nest he made. As soon as he was situated, Voryn stripped out of the additional robe he threw on top of his night clothes for decency, climbing in to lay beside Nerevar. 

“Did you eat properly?” He asked, fretting over him. Nerevar snorted. 

“Says the one who forgot to eat.” Nerevar teased. 

“I was…” Voryn sighed. “Too anxious to eat. I get wound up during a rut, and the idea of eating was nauseating.” He closed his eyes. “Until you showed up.” 

“Well I’m glad I made it easier for you.” Nerevar smiled. “And for your information, yes. I did in fact eat a large breakfast and lunch, as always.” He always had a big appetite after all, though he was especially ravenous during heats. “Though I wont say no to a big mudcrab feast for dinner~” Voryn laughed loudly at that, head thrown back and canines glinting. Nerevar swallowed roughly at the sight, subconsciously rubbing his own neck. 

“I’m glad you’re well fed then.” Voryn was still smiling warmly. “Hopefully you won’t eat me out of house and home.”

“Get a bigger house then if I do.” Nerevar teased back. 

“I certainly will have to, won’t I?” Voryn was smirking now, rolling on top of Nerevar. “I have to keep my mate well taken care of…” Voryn went back to his neck, kissing and licking now, earning several long, breathy moans from Nerevar. 

Gods, did Nerevar know what Vivec meant when he said heats were so much easier like this. Nerevar thought obviously a mate or even just a potential one you spent a heat with would make it a bit more bearable. But this… He didn’t feel nearly as irritable as he usually was, now feeling quite secure, not to mention his arousal wasn’t frustrating it just…

“Mmm…” Voryn groaned softly, grinding his hips against Nerevar’s. “Such a sweet scent when you’re aroused…” Voryn nipped at his ear next, making Nerevar arch up and keen. 

“Ah,” Nerevar gasped, grinding his hips in return, “Is it?” He didn’t have many people telling him he smelled sweet; usually he was compared to things that were fresh and bright, like citrus or herbs.

“Delightfully sweet.” Voryn purred. “Perfectly so, just to my taste…” Voryn then pulled up from his neck, taking his chin in hand. 

Nerevar’s heartbeat accelerated from the look in Voryn’s eyes. In every raunchy novel he read, alphas were described as ravenously hungry when they stared down omegas, like a predator having just caught its prey. But here Nerevar didn’t feel like prey; Voryn’s eyes were hungry, yes, but more so they were warm, affectionate and…

Loving. Devoted. Like he would do anything and everything for Nerevar’s sake. 

Nerevar’s eyes fell half shut as he found himself leaning up, Voryn meeting him halfway to connect their lips in a soft, gentle kiss. 

It was entirely out of order; normally you kissed and courted someone before you invited them to spend a rut or heat with you, contrary to many smutty novels and ballads where the couple spontaneously fell into bed together during one. By Azura, the two already knew each other for so many years too, and they were just barely kissing… 

Gods, no wonder people described it like fate. It felt insane that they hadn’t kissed before now. That it took so long for them to get here, sprawled out in bed together. The scent from Voryn was intoxicating as the kisses warmed up from slow and soft to passionate ones that made Nerevar feel entirely breathless. When Nerevar swiped his tongue into Voryn’s mouth, flicking briefly against his fangs, Nerevar shuddered, slipping one hand down between his thighs to rub back and forth against his dick. 

“So eager…” Voryn moaned against his lips, his own hand joining Nerevar’s. Even through the fabric the touch was electric, Nerevar’s body trembling slightly. “Did you want a toy inside you then?” Voryn asked, his voice low and deep, the sound going straight to Nerevar’s cunt. 

“Yeah…” Nerevar moaned softly. “A toy, your fingers…” Voryn was already undressing him, throwing the robe open and sliding his underwear off, “Anything…” 

“My cock?” Voryn offered with a smirk, only joking. Still though, Nerevar groaned at the thought; fuck yes did he want Voryn’s cock in him, fucking him to completion and then knotting him. He was already dripping wet at just the idea, after all. But he also knew they should take things slower.

“T-toy for now…” Nerevar groaned through grit teeth, before hissing as Voryn played with his dick while fishing around in the bag beside the bed. 

“Which one?” Voryn asked, still not letting up his teasing in the slightest. It felt so damn good, but Nerevar felt too empty! He threw an arm over his eyes, panting.

“Th-the…” Using his words was more difficult than he thought. “The one with the… Big knot~” A moment later, Voryn pulled it out, sliding the tip against Nerevar’s entrance. “Hah~!” 

“Is this one your favorite?” Voryn asked, a devilish smirk still on his face. Nerevar didn’t even have to look, he could feel the pleased look on his face as he started to tease it in. 

“Mm, when I’m in heat, yeah~” He could have lied, but what was the fucking point? Voryn was already fucking him with the damn thing, why play coy? Voryn slid it in a few inches, groaning softly as he watched it vanish into Nerevar’s body, before thrusting it in and out. It was a different rhythm than Nerevar used, but like everything else today it wasn’t unwelcomed. 

“Oh I’ll bet…” Voryn purred. “When you’re in heat you love taking a nice,” He gave a sharper thrust, letting Nerevar take it all up to just before the knot, but not quite pushing it in, “Big knot in your greedy little cunt, don’t you?” 

“Yes!” 

“Would you fuck yourself to completion and then take the whole thing?” He continued moving at that sharp, hurried pace as he slid it in and out of Nerevar.

“Fuck, yes—yes!!” He was panting desperately now, savoring the feeling. Voryn’s dirty talk was making this all the better—how had he gone so long without this?! If he’d known it would be this good, he’d have climbed into Voryn’s bed long before this.

“Imagining someone breeding you up?” Voryn was panting too, watching Nerevar with rapt attention. 

“Please,” Nerevar pleaded, feeling how close he was to an orgasm just hearing that. “Please, please~!” He tried grinding his hips down on the toy, desperate to feel the knot slipping inside him, but Voryn kept it from doing so. 

“My knot is the only one you’re going to feel this time, Neht.” Voryn growled low in Nerevar’s ear. “Only mine.” 

In response, Nerevar growled in return, quickly flipping positions as he climbed on top of Voryn instead. The toy completely slipped out, soon lost in the piles of pillows and blankets, as Voryn growled in return. The two were wrestling once again, though this time it wasn’t quite as playful. Honestly, Nerevar probably would have won this one by how seriously he was taking it, but heats made his body so groggy he wasn’t up to his usual strength. 

“Get inside me then.” Nerevar demanded through grit teeth as Voryn shoved him back down, prying his legs back open.

“Lay there and I will.” Nerevar still snarled, thrashing. “Now hold still or I’ll make you.” The threat made his cunt ache again, a long moan crawling out of his throat.

“Potion—“ Nerevar freed one arm, reaching for them. Voryn grabbed one, placing it in Nerevar’s hand as he finished undressing himself. Nerevar uncapped it and threw his head back, chugging it.

To Oblivion with taking it slow. He needed Voryn—all of him.

He tossed the potion bottle aside, wrapping his arms around Voryn as he nuzzled his face into his neck, now being the one to lick and kiss at a scent gland, almost intoxicated by the spice and musk. 

“Neht,” Voryn hissed. 

“Let’s mate.” Nerevar whispered, before feeling Voryn tense up. Silence followed, except for Voryn’s heavy breathing.

“Nerevar we don’t have to mate just to—“

“I want to.” Nerevar pulled back enough to look at him. “Be honest with me Voryn, who else am I going to mate with?” The very idea Nerevar could mate with someone else made Voryn’s anger spike, clear from the scent he gave off. “And even if we just tried to deny mating, just spending heats and ruts together, we’ll both lose it eventually.” The draw was supposedly undeniable, and Nerevar wanted to do it at least semi lucid without pain and desperation making the experience less enjoyable. 

“Besides,” Nerevar now gave a warm smile, the low light still twinkling in his eyes. “You’re a very devoted, loving, strong alpha…” Voryn shuddered. “Making sure I’m well fed, giving me medicine…”

“I have to take care of you…” Voryn whispered. “You mean the world to me.”

“Exactly.” Nerevar was still smiling, now thumbing at Voryn’s lower lip as he cupped his cheek. “Who else could possibly take care of me as well as you? You’re the one who’s always been there for me. You guarded my back in war, supported me on my quest to become hortator, and even long before I was a hero, just some canvasari not even wanted by his own house, you took care of me and showed me respect.” Just as easily, Voryn could have tossed him aside. Childish friendships with lower classes didn’t need to be kept by chimer nobility. Any other would have probably ‘outgrown’ Nerevar, but Voryn didn’t. Because Voryn didn’t just see Nerevar as a toy to be played with and tossed aside but as himself. 

Honestly, even being tossed aside by another noble would have been a good outcome. Many would have also taken Nerevar as a concubine after he presented, or sold him off given he had nowhere else to go. But Voryn always saw him as a friend he treasured.

“But,” Voryn gave a sigh, “You don’t love me.”

Ah. Nerevar didn’t think Voryn was the type to only want to mate when you truly loved someone. It only made sense he supposed, most people did, but he was used to seeing things in terms of practicality.

“Voryn,” He stroked his cheek, “Maybe I don’t love you romantically… Yet.” Nerevar wouldn’t discount that at all; if he’d fall in love with anyone, right now he imagined it would be Voryn. “And I don’t really know… What it’s even like to fall in love with someone completely like that given I’ve only had a few flings and a political marriage but,” He looked up into Voryn’s eyes, never more certain in matters of the heart than he was now. “I do know I care about you deeply. More than anyone else in my life.” Nerevar licked his lips. “And there is no person in the world I’d rather be mated with than you.” 

Silence then followed, Voryn staring at him in shock. Suddenly nervous, Nerevar began to backpedal slightly. 

“Of course I understand if you want to wait. I-gods, it would probably be easier for you if we did the whole courtship and dating thing first, wouldn’t it—“ He was then cut off by a kiss, Voryn’s tongue swiping into his mouth.

“I want to mate with you, Neht.” Voryn whispered, as he pulled away with a smile. “Tonight.”

“Are you sure? I—“ Nerevar swallowed roughly as he felt Voryn lift one of his legs up, his own instincts screaming at him that he needed this—that he needed to stop talking and get fucked right then and there.

“I’m certain.” Voryn said, his tone unwavering as he kept that warm smile on his face, his eyes shining. “Do you want me to mate with you before, during, or after?”

Nerevar licked his lips, thinking it over. A claiming bite was said to be extremely pleasurable, once the initial pain wore off. Some preferred to get it out of the way before sex, enjoying their new bond before warming back up. Some preferred the orgasmic rush that came with a claiming bite in the middle of sex. Others preferred to claim their mates while they laid together, panting and connected after being knotted.

“Not before,” Nerevar answered, his whole body still feeling warm. “I can’t… I can’t wait that long.” His body was still screaming at him to move, push the alpha on top of him down and ride him if he wasn’t going to take Nerevar already. He was squirming, antsy under Voryn’s gaze, and feeling too fucking empty again to think properly.

“Here,” Voryn whispered, pressing the head of his cock to Nerevar’s entrance. Nerevar’s breath hitched, before giving a long, drawn out moan as Voryn slid inside. “Why don’t we just see what feels right in the moment…”

“Voryn~!” Nerevar arched up, trembling slightly. 

It felt good. It felt right. It occurred to him, at that moment, that this was what he’d wanted every heat. Every struggling minute of desperation, every orgasm that didn’t quite feel satisfying enough—he wanted Voryn. 

Voryn threaded his fingers with Nerevar’s, pinning both of his hands to the bed as he gave a slow thrust, kissing him for all he was worth. No wonder his heats were so much more unbearable after he moved to Mournhold—he had assumed it was the heat and stress of being king, but he knew now it was his body screaming at him to return back to Voryn. To lose himself in Voryn’s embrace, just like this.

“Fuck…” Voryn groaned as he pulled away from the messy kiss. “Incredible—you feel incredible~”

Such a comment only stroked his pride, adding to the pleasure. He was making his mate feel good. He was making his mate feel just as good as he felt. It was enough to make his head spin, as every thrust quickly matched that sharp, hurried pace Voryn had set earlier with the toy.

“Claim me~” Nerevar whined, turning his head to expose his neck. Nerevar could feel it—he wanted to be claimed. Oh gods did he want to be claimed! Before he felt disgust whenever alphas glanced at his neck, trying to determine if he was a claimed omega or a beta of some kind. But now though he wanted it more than anything—

Voryn complied, moving down quickly, not letting the pace of his thrusts falter as he growled, nuzzling Nerevar’s neck. He licked and kissed, listening to every sharp whine from Nerevar that followed, before finally biting.

Nerevar’s mind went blank the second Voryn bit him, his eyes rolling back as he orgasmed.

It felt unreal—every fucking novel he read left him sorely unprepared for the pleasurable rush that hit him. It was pure bliss; every nerve in his body burning brightly from ecstasy, as Voryn growled deeply. 

He was officially mated. He belonged to Voryn. He found his mate and everything felt perfect, sparks still shooting up and down his spine as Voryn pulled his teeth out, panting and growling even more harshly as his hips somehow moved faster and rougher. He could feel Voryn’s knot forming too, pumping in and out of his cunt in a way that hit his sweet spot every time.

“Tight—!” Voryn snarled. “So tight, so damn tight… Neht!” 

“Knot me…” Nerevar moaned, coaxing Voryn further, feeling intoxicated from the pleasure still coursing through him. “Knot me, breed me up~” He ground his hips down at every thrust inside him, forcing Voryn to change the rhythm. Now, every thrust in he stayed a moment longer, grinding down, his knot catching on Nerevar’s entrance.

By now, Voryn had let go of Nerevar’s hands, face still buried in Nerevar’s neck as he moaned and growled into his ear. “I’m going to,“ Voryn panted. “I’m going to breed you, knot you until I know my seed takes—!” It wouldn’t, not after the potion Nerevar took, but he wasn’t thinking logically at the moment. All he was thinking about was how great it felt being fucked and bred by his mate, his alpha. “Mine! You’re all mine! Mine mine mine mine mine—!”

Finally, the knot refused to slip out. It swelled up completely, pressed firmly inside him, and Nerevar gasped as a new sensation overtook him. 

He felt himself tighten even further, making Voryn  moan long and loud, as the two were now firmly locked together. An orgasm hit him next, even more intense than the one from the claiming bite. If the bite was an intense, all encompassing blast of fire—like a star going supernova—this one was a drawn out burn. His mind didn’t go blank, instead forcing him to focus on the pleasure, as he felt heat inside him.

“Fuck~!!” Nerevar yelled, practically screaming, dragging his nails down Voryn’s back as his body shuddered, his cunt clenching and milking the cock still firmly sealed inside him. 

He knew what it was, yet he never really experienced it, so his knowledge was only really how it would be in theory. He never let an alpha knot him, after all; even if he had to have sex for political reasons he doused himself in perfume oil to hide his pheromones and always made sure they pulled out. Supposedly an omega locking happened much more commonly in heat, tightening around the knot as they orgasmed, keeping every drop of seed in to ensure conception…

Nerevar felt another wave of the long orgasm following, a broken, garbled moan spilling from his lips as Voryn rocked his hips.

“Stop moving!” Nerevar pleaded. If he kept rocking his knot right there—right against Nerevar’s sweet spot—he was never going to stop climaxing.

“Stop cumming!” Voryn hissed back, before groaning. “Oh gods you’re milking me for every drop!” He continued the slow rocking, as Nerevar felt fuller and fuller, his vision going hazy as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“I can’t…” Nerevar whined. “Too full…” Nerevar groaned, still trembling. “It’s too much….” There was too much inside him—before he felt painfully empty, and now he felt far too full. Voryn’s cock, his knot, and every drop of seed was filling him—

Another wave of pleasure followed, as Voryn growled. 

“Your body wants this so badly…” He snarled, nipping at the claiming bite he left. “Get pregnant!” He hissed, enjoying the way Nerevar’s body tightened around him once more. The command was enough to make him shudder, yet another wave of pleasure following. “Get pregnant, get pregnant!” Voryn urged with a bit more rocking, before Nerevar tugged him into another messy, open mouthed kiss.

If it wasn’t for the potion, Nerevar knew he would be. It seemed impossible for him not to conceive when it felt this good—when he was so full and not a drop spilling out of him despite Voryn’s movements… 

Eventually the pleasure subsided, Voryn’s movements slowing as their kiss went from feral and intense to something slower and lazier, kissing each other over and over as Nerevar ran his hands through Voryn’s long hair. 

“Fuck…” Nerevar groaned, breathlessly. “Intense…” It felt like an understatement, but that was the only word that came to mind as Voryn panted. 

“Gods…” Voryn groaned. “You were… Tighter than I had expected…” He hissed, shifting slightly again, but this time just to help them lay more comfortably. 

“It still feels too big…” Nerevar groaned. Now it was slightly uncomfortable, but he knew the more they did this, the more his body would adjust. To help ease his discomfort, Voryn pressed a few gentle kisses to his face, keeping himself still.

“Is it too full?” Voryn asked, and Nerevar nodded. Voryn sat up slightly, and the pressure being taken off his lower stomach was a relief, especially as Voryn caressed it. 

As Nerevar looked down, he could see why: there was a slight swell in his stomach from the pressure. He groaned, already regretting the decision to have sex on his back. He knew now why omegas preferred mating face down, and that it had nothing to do with submission and instead purely comfort.

“Don’t worry,” Voryn reassured him. “Just a few minutes…” His voice trailed off as his eyes went dark, taking in the sight of Nerevar under him, panting and covered in sweat, filled with his seed. Nerevar could tell what he was thinking from the change of the scent in the air, sparks from their newly formed connection.

“Like what you see…?” Nerevar asked with a toothy, cocky grin, only to groan as he felt Voryn shift again.

“Keep acting like that and I’ll only want to take you again…” Voryn replied, his voice low. Nerevar still felt rather proud at that; his mate didn’t like a soft, demure, and submissive type of omega like he always kind of worried an alpha would demand once they mated. Instead, Voryn seemed to enjoy him earnestly, even with all of his showboating and teasing.

“Maybe you should…” Nerevar purred in response. “We can have dinner, a relaxing bath to recover…” Nerevar’s eyes were half lidded as he spoke. “And then you can fill me up all over again…” 

The warm, messy kiss Voryn gave him was all the answer Nerevar needed.  

[lenin-it-to-win-it]

rip spock you wouldve slayed the high school policy debate circuit like no other

[oldfashionedmorphine]

Chapter 20…

——————

“Mike?”

He shivers, goosebumps erupting all over his skin again, and he keeps his eyes drawn upward as he replies, “Yeah?”

There’s hesitation in Will’s voice, “So back then… did… did you… did you ever… like me? Y’know, as more than… more than a best friend should?”

——————

——————

tagging: @across-thestars @boahey @magentamee @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @greenfiend @rebellius @booksandpaperss @castelobyers @total-serene560 @wheelersboy @sparks-olivarpente @hazmatazz @suzieburself @unrepentant-byler-shipper @mandycantdecide @robin-therobber @foodiewithdahoodie @embarrassing-nerd (if you want to be added or removed, let me know!)

[daemon-in-my-head]

I DID IT! FLUFF! NOT A DRILL! OK well obviously me being me there's the trademark sliver of angst but, yk, it's brushed aside quick(er than usual). No, despite the name, it is NOT horny. Though Gortash has some thoughts because of course that fucker does. I have no hand left in their characterisation, they're doing it themselves atp. I'm fucking innocent I swear on Gortash's most personal dreams.

Synopsis: Perhaps childcare wasn't as easy as Enver Gortash always considered it. Seeing how the ruthless tyrant now sat defeated and adorned in all sorts of finery before the little girl. The very girl he so smugly proclaimed tending to would be easily doable hours prior.

2,069 words, non-descriptive mentions of violence, big fluff. Read here or on Ao3.

Child's play

"I want to play," The little girl exclaimed loudly as her hands found their way onto the makeshift desk Gortash had created from the ornamental outdoor furniture. She was bravely demanding the city's tyrant's attention, which had been solely intended for the documents before him, all for herself.

"So? You have plenty of toys. Go and play with them." The Archduke didn't even bother looking up, or rather down, at the girl.

Seeing how his dearest companion had been working himself to the bone lately, caring for his day-to-day work in the temple and keeping his daughter safe and entertained, the Archduke had ever so graciously offered to look after her for a day, all so that his dearest Bhaalspawn may rest, and perhaps, if he was fortunate enough, wouldn't reject any advance to as much as a conversation with his usual saying he'd be too tired or that he'd still have some work he needed to tend to.

After all, Gortash thought, money for a nanny had been no issue and considering all his feats so far, caring for a child for a day should be easily accomplished. A worthwhile tradeoff for the rewards the proud lord promised himself. At least in theory. But the little girl had thrown an extraordinary tantrum when he had attempted to leave her with the nanny and loudly demanded to accompany him today, resulting in the never-resting tyrant setting up a temporary office in his companion's garden, all while the girl entertained herself either watching him or playing around with a plethora of toys her father must've obtained for her. Until just a moment ago, that was.

"They're boring," The girl pouted, clearly displeased about his straightforward dismissal of her. "I want to have a party."

Ever Gortash sighed, "we can't simply host a party just because you're bored of your toys, Neala. And certainly not with a hostess that barely reaches up to her guest's hips."

"But Papa always does when I ask him to?" She seemingly couldn't comprehend just how absurd her request had been.

Intrigued by the utter confusion displayed on the little girl's face, he questioned further, finally setting down the quill and facing the girl, now standing next to him, "how exactly do these parties your father holds for you look like?"

"Well," the girl began, her confusion quickly changing into delight, "Papa and Lief sit down, and we talk, and Papa listens and calls me 'Lady'. Oh, we also have tea! Mama used to help me with that but-" the girls expression darkened as she recalled her mother.

The tyrant knew that she still missed her immensely. It had become a reoccurring topic whenever he and his companion managed to find time to sit down and talk, and while he didn't usually care for sentimentality like this, considering his own circumstance, making Fine's daughter cry, even by accident, would certainly not work in his favour.

"Fine," he forced his lips to curl into a crooked smile, "let's have a party then. Tell the servants what you need. They'll help you prepare."

Not even waiting for him to finish his sentence, the girl had already run off towards the garden's entrance.

Whatever she had described was, after all, not a party but simple child's play, entertainment for the mansion's little princess, provided to her by her beloved parents. Though, the proud lord had to admit, even if it wasn't a proper gathering, the idea in and of itself was quite brilliant, playfully teaching the girl what would be expected of her once she came of age. Especially considering she was the offspring of two rather infamous 'families', being a proper hostess and perhaps handling things such as beverages by herself were skills that would undoubtedly be useful to her in the future. Then again, the more he played with the thought, the less sure of whose idea it must've been he became. Both her parents were undoubtedly ruthless enough to make sure she would be well-equipped to use anything she could to her advantage, but on the other hand, at least her father seemed to treasure her dearly and continuously gave his best efforts to keep her as far away and more importantly as unaware as possible of his usually grim businesses.

Perhaps it was indeed her late mother's idea? It would make sense, he thought. She had been a noble drow, and her kind was primarily known for their handiness when it came to poisonings and other cruelties. A woman like that playfully teaching her child from a young age how to host gatherings and, more importantly, how to add unique ingredients to a tea was something he could terrifyingly easily imagine. Perhaps it would be better to refrain from touching any teacups the girl would handle.

The Gates Archduke making headlines because a child managed to somehow temper with his drink would certainly diminish his reputation. Although, perhaps if he framed it the right way, it may yet serve as a way to garner even more support. But then again, challenging the Bhaalspawn for his daughter's sake would work against his most personal goals. A sigh escaped the man as he was weighing the options in his mind. It seemed as though caring for a child was, in fact, not so as easy as he had imagined previously, seeing the conundrum he now found himself face to face with.

"Here," the girl's voice finally tore his chain of thought apart, forcing Gortash to return to the present once more.

"And whatever might this be?" His Eyebrows furrowed as he observed the bundle of fabric stretched out towards him before he shifted his gaze to look upon the girl again.

"Clothes," Neala was equally confused, seemingly not grasping why he would question something so obvious.

"I can see that, Neala. But why have you brought them here?" The tyrant swallowed his sigh. How much he missed conversing with those who understood his words for what they were.

"People dress up for parties, do they not?" She hurriedly placed the bundle on the makeshift desk, disregarding the parchment beneath. Like father like daughter. As soon as she did, a seemingly exquisite hat, alongside a plethora of other accessories, revealed itself.

"Here," she said yet again, this time holding the aforementioned hat adorned with silky fabric towards the grumbling man.

"If you need help putting it on, you should ask the servants. They're more experienced with these things." He gestured towards the garden's entrance where a maid had been stationed, ready to heed her master's every beck and call.

The girl beamed as she proudly retorted, "it's not for me. I got it specifically for you!"

Gortash couldn't believe what he had heard. This big, tedious, carefully decorated hat before him was one of the things the ladies of high society would adorn themselves with whenever they left their comfortable estates. It was certainly not something he would, or should, ever consider wearing. "You're trying to make a fool of me, are you not, little one?"

The girl, however, perhaps fortunately not picking up on either the slight hint of malice or the true meaning of his words, simply continued to beam at him as she responded, "you need to dress up prettily for parties, and this is the pretties one I have."

"I appreciate your consideration, but I'm afraid I can't wear that." He spoke through gritted teeth. Even in a private garden, an Archduke couldn't stoop so low.

"But you have to. It's no party otherwise." The girl insisted.

"Why, you little-" he tried his best to keep his voice low, low enough so that the girl wouldn't hear his cursing, but his efforts were in vain.

"I'll tell on you to Papa." She smirked as she cut him off. The little devil certainly knew what she was doing, he thought.

But before the tyrant could consider his next excuse, another familiar voice rang through the garden. "Oh? What are you going to tell me?"

A white-haired man emerged from the grand doors marking the garden's entrance behind them, promptly causing the girl to drop the things she had been holding onto and rush towards him, only to be picked up and nestled within his arms in one swell motion, sealing Gortash's fate for good.

"Papa! Your back!" She wrapped her arms around the man, obviously overjoyed about his arrival.

"So? What were you talking about that you couldn't help but share?" He was looking at the somewhat defeated-looking lord before him, but the answer he sought came from the girl in his arms.

"We wanted to hold a party!" Neala was still giddy with excitement as she spoke.

Fine shifted his gaze towards his daughter before questioning her further, seemingly knowing what must've transpired while he was gone with just a glance at the two of them. "And he really agreed to go along with what you proposed?"

The girl's excitement died down a little as she appeared caught in her mischievousness. He could guess that she omitted some 'minor' aspects of her proposal, which had led to whatever situation he had barged in on. But before she could receive the imminent scolding, the person who may yet change her fate interjected himself into the conversation again.

"I did." He cleared his throat and promptly continued, leaving no room for any more questions, "in fact, we were just picking out some fancy clothes, weren't we?" Gortash forced a smile. He disliked it, but he'd rather voluntarily discard his pride than be saved by the very person whom he had promised a day of rest. "Now, shall we return to what we were doing?"

The Bhaalspawn raised his brows in surprise but soon enough let go of the girl and allowed her to return to her party planning. As soon as she was freed, she held out the hat towards the grumbling tyrant again.

"Thank you." A brusque reply before he took the fabric of nightmares and placed it on his painstakingly coiffed hair.

"Here," Neala's usual smile had returned as she approached her father, an exquisitely crafted brooch clasped in her hands.

"Am I invited as well?" The man responded with a similar smile. He seemed genuinely happy about this unforeseen development. Perhaps burying one's pride once every so often wasn't too bad, Gortash thought.

"Yes," the girl exclaimed happily. "You'll be the lord, and Uncle Enver will be the lady. And I'll be the gracious hostess!" The tyrant swallowed. Never mind his previous statement. This, most definitely, was hell on earth. The little girl must be a fiend skilled at hiding her undoubtedly existing horns. And that nickname she had conjured up, oh how much he wished he could just curse out loud.

Trying his best to suppress the laughter threatening to break free, Fine made his way over to Gortash, extending an arm as soon as he reached him. "My lady? Shall we head to a more suitable location?"

Biting his lip, still trying his hardest to swallow the laughter, Fine nodded towards the pavilion where the servants had already set the table with a delicate porcelain tea set. The place the child had already dashed off to.

Gortash sighed before taking the hand extended towards him. This father-daughter pair may yet be the death of him, but for now, he'd simply try to delight in the few short moments of undisturbed time together their way would allow them.

And sure enough, after arriving at the furniture set decorated for them, the blissful moments soon disappeared. Their little hostess made sure to torment him for what seemed like hours, chattering away and engaging the adults in conversation about made up circumstance and her little fantasies, all while serving what could only be called discoloured water and endlessly swooning over the beautiful hat the 'lady' had been wearing. Gortash may have had his fair share of dealings with devils, but all of them could still learn a thing or two from the little hellspawn hopping around cheerfully around them.

Still, while Gortash yet refused to admit his defeat for a while longer, it didn't take too long for him to finally surrender to the little demon before him. Perhaps due to the ashen hand holding his own and the quietly mouthed 'thank you' from the man beside him, in the end, and after enough time had passed being held onto like this, even the tyrant's smile seemed to come naturally to him.

[wanderingmind867]

Apparently Orpheus loved Calais of the Boreads. That's what wikipedia told me, at least. I'm not sure how that fits in with the whole Orpheus and Eurydice myth, however. Did Orpheus eventually move on after losing Eurydice? If so, I think it's sad that him and Calais never kept that flame alive. Someone needs to write a fanfic of this. Calais the hockey jock (as jason grace so kindly described him) needs to see Orpheus again. At least someone needs a happy ending in regards to that tragedy.

[deadlyhuggles6]

Title: Two Months

Words: 11.5K

Rating: T for light swearing

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Pairings: no romantic pairings

Warnings: Minor (okay kinda major, but etho doesn't focus on it much) non consensual body modification in that Etho's body is changing and he Did Not Consent. kidnapping. injury mention, but he's okay. minor body horror specifically around the eyes

Summary:  Etho's the champion of Decked Out. Now that Decked Out 2 is open, he's here to conquer that as well. But Decked Out 2, unbeknown to Etho and its Dungeon Master, has other plans for Etho, and it's not going to let him go now that he's within its walls once more. While racing against the clock to find and save Etho, Tango finds himself falling apart. Can his friends keep him together while saving Etho?

Ao3 link: Two Months - DeadlyHuggles - Hermitcraft SMP [Archive of Our Own]

“And that was the last time we ever saw Etho,” Joe joked.

Tango laughed so hard, and Etho could just barely hear it over the echoing sound of Decked Out 2, “Yeah, see you in December Etho!”

Etho rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s gonna take me two months to-” the heavy nether brick doors closed behind him, cutting him off from his friends until he died or completed the course. Tango had a way to contact them of course, just in case something goes wrong, but otherwise he was all on his own.

Etho took a deep breath and began to run through the icy first level of the dungeon.

The ice was slick under his feet, but he’d prepared for this, and his thick-soled boots handled it pretty easily. He slid quickly over the ice, keeping an eye on the compass in his hand, but doing his best to just look around.

Tango had obviously put a lot of work into this place, the feel was entirely different than that of the original. And he’d know, with how much time he spent down there.

He winced a bit as a lot of sounds all went off right in a row. He recognized a few of them from the tutorials Tango had recorded, but were they supposed to go off like that?

He hit a button on the side of his compass, pinging Tango. Tango was keeping an ear and eye out for weird stuff, he’d know what that was. Still, Etho kept moving quickly, he wanted out of here with his victory as soon as he could.

“Hey Etho, is something wrong already?”

“Just a bunch of noises all at once. Sounded like multiple sound effects. Wanted to make sure nothing was broken.”

“Hmm.” Etho could hear Tango shuffling, probably looking through his schematics, “I think you're good, just some bad luck. A lot of hazards all triggering at once.” his voice turned teasing, “I think it recognizes you, power adjusting for the champion.”

Maybe it was just Etho, but the heartbeat seemed to get just a bit more intense, louder and faster as it pounded along with his heart. Etho did his best to school his reactions but found himself wondering if Tango had maybe poured a bit too much of himself into this place. If it really recognized him… he shook off those thoughts and kept running. This would be fine, living building or not.

He laughed nervously, “of course, of course. I think it’s sending me right into a ravager.”

Tango laughed, then the connection with Tango shut down, and Etho was left all on his own again. He sighed and kept running. He just needed to be fast. He ran around the ravager, and kept exploring, noting the number of closed doorways all around him. Those must have been the hazards that went off, slowly cutting off his options.

Pretty soon he found the artifact spot and offered it his compass. The artifact popped up from the floor, and Etho scooped it up and started to run back to the entrance. He was pretty sure he remembered where the exit was, but there were a few ravagers between it and him.

The heartbeat picked up again, and Etho knew he was running out of time. It thundered in his ears so loudly he didn’t hear the stomping feet of a ravager ahead of him. Luckily, it was down a straight path and he saw it running at him.

Etho looked around quickly for a pillar to loop around. He found one, baited the ravager, and looped around, continuing his run for the exit. He swore he could hear demonic giggles from deeper in the icy tunnel, and looking behind him, he could see two small blue and red vex chasing after him. He hissed, and pushed himself as fast as he could go. He was running out of stamina though; he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer.

The vex chased him through the winding tunnels, and finally he saw something familiar. He pushed himself through one side of a y split only to slam face first into a block of ice with the vex hot on his trail. This must have been one of the hazards that closed, he’d have to find a new path back to the exit.

Etho pushed himself off the ice and past the vex following. One took a swipe at him, but he dodged it in the nick of time, so close he could feel the icy magic. He ran down the hallway, catching sight of the door, but the short way was blocked off with a fence, and it’d take too long to climb over with two vex on his tail.

He pushed himself faster, jumping around the central pillar as quickly as he could. He almost laughed when he ran through the Decked Out door, a deep relief going through him. He dropped down into the next area and collapsed. He could almost still feel his heart thudding in time with the tunnels, fast and angry. That was. Something. He almost didn’t want to try again. He could be happy with his old champion title, right? He didn’t need a new one.

He radioed Tango, still breathing heavily, “Got through. Take that dungeon master.”

Tango’s laugh was delighted, “Amazing! Shouldn't have expected any less from you Etho! Go ahead and relinquish your artifact and head through the shop, we’ll meet you on the surface when you're done!”

Etho went through the shop before letting the ravager in the hole kill him and return to his spawn in the main area. The others were sitting around his spawn and cheered when he sat up in the bed.

“The champion has returned everyone!” Tango cheered, and the others began to cheer as well.

Etho laughed and tried to ignore the deep ache his chest left from the absence of Decked Out’s heartbeat, “I’m back.”

Etho chilled in his nook for a while, trying to get himself to calm down from the experience. In that time Scar managed to also get a win, and a few more of the Hermits did some runs, with no further successes. Finally, he was feeling bad enough that he just slipped out the front door.

It felt like he was leaving part of himself behind, stuck in the depths.

A few hours later he came back, drawn back like a moth to the flame. He’s probably just being dramatic anyway; Tango wouldn’t let anything happen to him in decked out.

He didn’t see anyone in the normal area, so someone must be doing a run right now. He walked over to the bubble elevator to the waiting room that was under construction when he left. It now looked significantly cozier, all wool and soft moss. You can tell Bdubs had his hands in it.

“Etho! You’re back!” speak of the devil and he will arrive.

Etho’s eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at Bdubs, glancing around the rest of the room. Looks like everyone else was still around.

Including Tango, who got up to greet Etho, “We didn’t think you’d be back! I thought we’d scared off the champion with that level of bad luck!”

“Aw snap, you guys were thinking of me?” Etho fanned himself teasingly, “yeah, I just needed a break. Now I'm back to make another run.”

Bdubs rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah mhm you're hilarious.”

Tango just laughed, “Now now, you're both pretty. Scar’s running right now Etho, but he should probably-”

All of their communicators went off at once, and by the look on Tango’s face, it was a death message from Scar.

“Looks like the building knows you're here. It’ll be ready for a run pretty soon. I’m sure the others would be happy to let you have the next attempt, that’s Scar’s third attempt.”

Etho nodded and settled in to wait for the castle to be ready for them. He could almost feel this castle pulsing around him. It set him on edge, but he was committed to this now. Decked Out could get as mad at him as it wanted, he became the champion once and he could do it again.

Finally, the dungeon announced that it was once again ready for runs, and Etho dropped down to the entrance, Tango dropping down right behind him.

“All ready?”

Etho nodded, stepped into the entrance, set his spawn, and began his second attempt.

He walked through the dungeon slowly, painfully aware of how fast his stamina drained last time. The compass took him along a familiar path through the left side of the dungeon, but strangely free of ravagers. Maybe people had made the ravagers wander off into more obscure areas of the ice tunnels? He picked a few berries from a nearby sweet berry bush as he walked, tucking them into his inventory for later. As he got further into the dungeon than he had last time, he kept his eye out for treasure, and for any ravagers that might be lurking around corners.

His diligence was rewarded as he walked up a set of stairs, only to run face first into a ravager. He fell backwards, not quite managing to keep his balance as he tried to turn back down the stairs. He fell in a heap at the bottom, but quickly pushed himself up and behind the nearest pillar.

“Oh boy,” he murmured, feeling himself over for injuries.

His left ankle hurt pretty bad, even despite his boots. He must have fallen on it wrong. He ate the few berries he’d managed to grab, hoping to kickstart the healing, but it didn’t seem to take. He was suddenly very glad that Tango had put a necessary respawn into the process of getting out of the dungeon, because this would not be fun to heal from. But he’d have to deal with it for now.

He hobbled to his feet, already dreading having to kite this ravager out of the way. He wanted to get out of here and off this ankle as soon as possible. He looked around a bit more, trying to see if there was another option for getting around. He didn’t exactly find one, but he did find a better place to bait the ravager from, where he wouldn’t have to run up and down the stairs with a ravager on his tail.

The heartbeat of the dungeon was slow but steady in his ears, and his ankle throbbed with each pulse. In and out, that’s all he needed right now.

Which is of course when the dungeon decided to screw with him. A screeching laugh rang in his ears behind him, a sharp grating contrast to the slow heartbeat all around him. He spun around, not quite believing his eyes. Vex. Already.

He fumbled with his compass for a moment before managing to hit the radio button.

“Tango I've got vex on me already and a bad ankle!”

Tango sucked in a breath, and it whistled between his teeth, “Oh no. Oh that’s bad with extra bad sauce. That’s really not supposed to happen Etho, just try to get out of there.”

Etho grunted as he tried to dodge around them but took a slice from the vex as his ankle caused him to stumble.

“Aw man, I hadn’t thought of that,” he sarcastically said. “I don't even have my artifact yet!”

“Just get out of there, I’ll give you an extra frozen shard to make up for this run, but if the dungeon is malfunctioning…”

Tango didn’t finish his statement, but Etho understood. Minigames didn’t tend to go wrong on Hermitcraft, but when they did it could get bad. He tried to focus on getting out, but the vex had encircled him. He dove to the right, through an open door into another section of the map, but it slammed in his face, leaving him trapped with the vex right behind him. He scrambled further right, following the right wall to try to find some exit. The vex backed off a bit, and he gave them a suspicious glance, watching as they floated just on the edge of his vision to the left.

He jumped over an ice river, boots splashing against the far bank, and he slipped into it a bit. He shook off the water and moved into the next room, which had a bunch of different ravines crisscrossing the room. He looked behind him again and didn’t see the vex anymore. He tried to slow his breathing, but the heartbeat was going too fast, he couldn’t get it any slower.

He took the moment to radio Tango again, “Doors are slamming in my face, and the vex aren’t attacking anymore. Think they might be herding me. Don’t know where. In a room full of ravines now, not quite sure how to get to the exit again.”

“Oh no. Oh that's very bad, very bad. Get out of that area, there’s a few holes there that I haven’t-”

The heartbeat in Etho's chest and all around him suddenly turned into a crescendo, loud and clashing, drowning out Tango’s words, and a ravager Etho hadn’t noticed before rammed into him, knocking him down towards the ravine. His body slammed against the icy walls and Etho knew no more.

~

When Etho came to, he had no idea where he was. In fact, he could hardly even see where he was, just the impression of darkness and faintly glowing turquoise. His hands felt below him, and he felt scraps of wool and the strangely spongy texture of skulk. Where could he possibly be with wool and sculk?

And then Etho heard a sound that made him freeze.

The whine of a warden.

Etho’s head swung wildly but he still couldn’t see anything. It was a high-pitched sound, so they probably hadn’t realized he was here, but it sounded so close. It was only a matter of time before one of them sniffed and realized he was here.

He tried to shift, pulling his feet up under him, but even tensing his muscles sent shooting pain through his ankle and up into his leg. It felt like his entire foot had been dipped in lava, each twitch disturbing it more and more. He couldn’t help the quiet grunt of pain that rumbled through his chest and throat without his permission.

All around him there were several rounds of clicking and Etho realized just how screwed he was. Unless warden farms were involved, there usually weren't more than one or maybe two wardens around if you were truly unlucky. This was four- five- maybe six or seven all around him, all alerted to his presence now.

But this knowledge couldn’t stop the psychological reaction to the pain his ankle was in. It had probably swelled up under the boot, both held in still and compressed by the thick layers of leather and fur. He let out a quiet whimper and could feel hot tears spilling down the sides of his face.

Suddenly, the thing he had been leaning against shifted, pulling out from behind him. Etho tried to scramble away, but his ankle pulsed painfully as he tried to put weight on it, and he couldn’t go anywhere. Nowhere but falling to the ground, helpless to the warden that had shifted to be in front of him. Etho could just barely see from the light of the souls within the warden’s chest, and he found himself wishing for a quick death. Maybe if he was lucky, he could even get this break to heal in the respawn, though he was quickly giving up hope seeing how he didn’t know how long he’d been out. 

But instead of attacking him, the warden just leaned in and turned its head to the side and gently knocked one of its antlers against his head. For a moment, sounds amplified around him, and his heartbeat thudded in time with the nest around him, drowning out everything, including the pain from his ankle. And then they broke contact, and Etho was left by himself again. He unconsciously jerked up, following the touch of the warden’s antler and searching for that relief. The warden clicked at him and glowed just a bit brighter. More wardens shifted around him, and a low glow was visible over the entire area. Perhaps the work of a sculk catalyst.

Etho took the new light level to look over himself. From the slight swelling at the laces of his boot, he could tell his foot was definitely swollen. He dreaded the idea of having to take off his boot, knowing how painful it will likely be. He decided to ignore it for now, eyes slowly drifting up his body. His clothes all look surprisingly intact, if a bit dirty from skulk spores. Which was definitely good, it was always terribly cold in the dark areas wardens liked to inhabit. And he was glad that he’d remembered his full gloves, not just the fingerless ones. Who knows how cold he’d be with his fingers-

Etho’s thoughts stuttered to a stop, as though put on pause. He rubbed his fingers together, feeling how they felt, before bringing them close to his face to see.

That wasn’t fabric.

After a moment of rubbing things with his fingers he could pretty safely say that it wasn’t frostbite either, he still had his full sense of touch and they didn’t hurt, which made him feel marginally better about this whole situation, but he was still freaked out. There was no reason for your skin to spontaneously turn black and slightly rubbery in texture.

He pulled off his fingerless gloves, tucking them gently into the pockets on his vest, and pushed up his sleeves. The darkness traveled almost halfway up to his elbows before fading into his pale skin. He touched up his face as well, and felt patches where his face felt odd, especially where his mask didn’t cover.

Etho took a deep breath and winced hard. Oh yeah, he’d never finished going over his body for injuries. His ribs ached when he took a deep breath, and, remembering how hard the ravager had hit him, he wouldn’t be surprised if he fractured something. He took a purposefully regular sized breath and forced himself to ignore his racing thoughts and focus on his next step. He needed to get out of here, and to do that he needed to call someone to help.

He felt around his pocket, hoping desperately that the compass was somewhere in one of his pockets or nearby. He knew it was unlikely, he’d been holding it when he fell, but he could always hope.

He checked his pockets first, his vest then his pants, and then started to scan the ground. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Okay. Calm breaths, his communicator would probably work just fine, it was just a little louder and brighter and might not be able to get through to anyone.

Etho let out a slow breath and summoned his communicator. It turned on the moment it entered his hand.

Etho hissed as bright light flooded the small burrow. It was practically blinding, and it obviously disturbed the wardens as much as it did him. The one that had been chilling next to him groaned loudly and reared away, and several other loud groans went up around him. Etho found himself quite agreeing, and out of instinct slammed the brightness of his communicator against the ground. A moment later he realized that perhaps his only ticket home should not be slammed against the ground of questionable hardness.

He gently lifted part of the screen and desperately turned down the brightness. Even at the lowest brightness it still felt absolutely blinding, but at least he could look at it now. He curled up around it, trying to block as much light as possible from invading the dark space. Thankfully it didn’t look any more damaged than it normally did, just a few cracks in the screen and a familiar chip in the casing.

He felt a bit of hope as he was able to scroll through his comm, first his personal information and- he shuddered, skipping right over his coordinates. It must be broken, there’s no way he was that far down. He just fell through a ravine in the first level, there’s no way he was nearly at bedrock now. Instead, he went straight for his messages.

He had no new messages.

Etho let out a sharp breath but held out hope and clicked onto Tango’s private messages.

Ethoslab: tango help

He watched the icon next to his message circle and load, and something in his chest cracked a little as it greyed out, and a little error symbol popped up next to it.

Ethoslab: please

Even faster this time, the grey came. Etho switched to his messages with Xisuma, messaging so fast that his previous one didn’t even have time to fail.

Ethoslab: help x please

Ethoslab: it hurts so badlt

Ethoslab: pleasse i want to leave

But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing got through. Etho gave up all hopes of dignity and switched to the main channel.

It was deathly still for even a regular day on Hermitcraft, let alone a day like this. The last visible messages were Grian and Bdubs chattering about the game they'd set up in the waiting room, from only a little after he entered the dungeon. No new messages.

Etho was desperate though.

Ethoslab: someone pelase helo

Ethoslab: theres som any wardfens

Ethoslab: my anlke adn ribs are hutrt

Ethoslab: ym coords are so doeep i cantg et out

But one by one, each message greyed out, failing to send. He was well and truly stuck down here, no help was coming. 

So, he’d have to get himself out of here.

He really wanted to get out of here without a respawn. Respawning on old injuries always went badly, especially when you're as old as him. But the longer he waited, the worse whatever remained would be. So, he braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut and tensing his muscles for the oncoming pain, turned to the warden behind him, and shouted as loudly as he could.

His voice cracked and crumbled, but it was still loud enough that it should’ve aggroed something. But instead of pain, there was just a round of low groans from all around him, wardens answering his shout in turn. The ones closest to him began to click, and Etho found himself calming despite himself as the clicking picked up, but he forced himself to focus. Why didn’t they aggro on him? Why wasn’t he respawning at home by now?

Suddenly, he felt a gentle tap against the back of his skull, and everything amplified again. His pain faded, head clear of that constant ringing, and at the same time completely full of the heartbeat that filled his chest. He didn’t think it was his heartbeat, but what else could it really be? His entire person pulsed in time with it.

The warden tried to pull away, but Etho pushed back against it, trying not to lose the sensation of everything and the relief it brought him. The warden clicked, whining at him in a way Etho somehow understood to be gentle, understanding. It knew what it was doing. And it leaned back in, bringing him back into the heartbeat.

~

Etho had no idea how long he’d been down here. It could've been weeks for all he knew. He’s had a harder and harder time bringing himself out of the heartbeat. And even when he could, there was nothing he could do here.

His ankle was still swollen and incredibly painful, though he’d kept it in his boot since it was the most supportive thing he had and he had no way to easily get it off. He couldn’t walk on it, let alone tunnel his way out of here. And the wardens wouldn’t fight him. Even when he hit one, it just clicked at him once and pushed him down with one massive paw before tapping him with its antler and putting him back under.

They treated him like a kit, like he was- was a baby warden. Etho didn’t even know if those existed, this grotto didn’t have one and he’d never seen one before but they’ve gotta come from somewhere, right?

It was hard to tell day and night here. His comm was getting harder and harder to turn on, even on its darkest brightness and screen color settings it was painful to look at. Etho had been trying to jury-rig it even dimmer before it got too much to handle entirely, but he wasn’t too optimistic about that possibility anymore. Even the sculk catalyst was getting too bright for him these days.

But he was having better and better luck seeing in the darkness of the burrow. And he didn’t like what he was seeing. The darkness in his hands and face was spreading. It went up his arms, all the way to his shoulders, and the dark patches on his face had been spreading. At some point he’d shed his mask, and the patches of Not Skin had popped up much faster, spreading until he wasn’t sure he had much normal skin left, and it was invading his scalp, curling through his hair, and down his neck. He even went to sleep once and woke up with patches on his stomach. He looked like he was rotting from the inside out.

He was terrified of what would happen when the rot fully covered him.

~

Etho let out a shuddering gasp as he came out of the Heartbeat, head ringing with pain strong enough to make his vision grow dark. It had been- Etho couldn’t even guess anymore. Time was meaningless. The surface world felt more and more like a dream with every passing day. Etho didn’t know how he was still alive, how he hadn’t starved to death yet. He thought it might have something to do with the rot, which he saw glowed a soft blue when the other wardens touched him. He always felt better after they did that, like they were giving him the magic his body craved.

The darkness covered his entire chest now and was crawling down his legs at an alarming pace. He didn’t feel that scared of it anymore, it was hard to feel anything but numb anymore. There was no escape.

His leg had stopped hurting quite as much, but he still had a hard time walking, and his ribs hadn’t hurt since the dark rot rolled over them. Instead, his head had started to ache, pulsing on either side of his skull without rest. It was an agony that not even the other wardens could relieve, no matter how much they tried.

And how they tried.

Etho couldn’t help a cry of pain as a particularly strong wave of pain crashed over him. He heard a familiar groan beside him, the warden who most often took care of him, and large paws scooped him up, before antlers pressed back against his skull, and he disappeared from consciousness once again.

~

Etho felt like he was floating. He felt like body was barely his, like just an outside observer. The pain radiating in his head grounded him and sent him running from his body at the same time. It was hard to stay conscious now, and Etho found his eyes drifting shut only minutes after waking up.

There was a lot of movement all around him, the kind that made Etho want to stay awake, to know what was happening. The grotto didn’t move like this often, content to stay curled in the little burrow. Was something happening, were the hermits coming for him?

Suddenly Etho’s chest was yanked up, legs dangling in the air. He screamed as the sudden movement jostled his ankle and made his head pound.

Big paws adjusted him, pulling up his legs, and he felt himself be carried by a warden. The warden tried to knock their horns together, but Etho pulled away, trying to see what was happening. It was so hard to see with the pounding in his head and chest, but Etho did his best to pay attention. He needed to know if they were coming for him.

There was more movement, and Etho heard digging under the murmur and clicking of the wardens around him. The room suddenly got much smaller and packed with wardens. Etho’s feet and head brushed either side of the stone walls, and Etho suddenly realized what was happening.

They were leaving the area under Decked Out 2.

Etho kicked his feet and shouted loudly, wordless in his desperation to go back. The hermits had to be so close, they must be looking for him! He couldn’t leave before they found him.

He flailed his legs and screamed his head off, throat already feeling torn and painful, and managed to squirm out of the warden’s paws. He dropped to his feet, landing hard on his bad ankle, and tried to run back to the burrow.

It was no use, one of the wardens caught him effortlessly, pressed their antler to his skull, and he knew no more.

~

Etho couldn’t see when he woke up.

He let out a wordless noise. Usually, sound would make someone light up, give him enough light to see by.

But there was nothing.

He made a louder noise and still no light. Instead, answering groans rang up around him.

Suddenly Etho could make out an impression of the mobs all around him. It was fuzzy but he could sense them. There were 7 of them all around him, curled up in this room, which was slightly larger than the burrow they’d been in, with him in the very center. He was slouched against the largest one, the one who watched over him.

The impression started to fade, until Etho let out another questioning noise, and the big warden responded with a short click, before gently knocking its antler down against him, letting him sink in the heartbeat for a moment. It felt so gentle today, but he felt the knock so keenly, even though his skull didn’t-

The warden hadn’t knocked his skull.

The realization came to Etho so suddenly that he pulled himself fully away from the warden, hands flying to his head.

He had antlers.

They weren’t big, barely more than an inch long, but they stuck straight out from his head, already too big to hide under his hair. The world felt so much duller when Etho grabbed them, even the small vibrations Etho hadn’t noticed not being picked up. He let go and found he could get a decent idea of the burrow now that he was actively trying.

Etho wanted to throw up a bit.

He was becoming a warden. There really would be no escape for him.

Tears came to his eyes, shockingly hot against the coldness of his cheeks. He had antlers, and his body was covered in the black rot that was probably just warden’s skin, and now he couldn’t see.

It was too much, Etho broke down sobbing.

One of the wardens took pity on him, gently knocking their antlers together, and Etho knew no more, his spasming heartbeat added to the collective.

~

The antlers weren’t gone when Etho woke up. Etho could feel them, it felt like they’d only grown longer. Grabbing them felt wrong, so he didn’t, letting the vibrations of the grotto around him flow through them freely. It felt weird, not quite sight but something like it. 

Etho wanted to cry, just thinking about the loss of his sight. How would he build again, making those complex interiors he loved so much with messy but congruent block palettes? How would he manage redstone, and its need for big picture perspective, knowing what each line hopper and repeater were meant to do? How would he do anything that made him a hermit?

He hugged his chest tightly, trying to comfort himself, but that only made his feel worse. He could feel the weird texture of his skin through his clothes, could feel how it had trailed over his entire torso. He pushed his shirt up to feel it and couldn’t stop himself from shuddering as he felt a small bit of peach fuzz over warden skin. He might as well be growing fur at this point! He’d already been changed so much; he might as well be made even more unrecognizable!

Etho was edging on hysterics when one of the wardens gave him a questioning click, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. He didn’t want them to put him back under the heartbeat, forcibly held calm by the overwhelming force of their collective heart rate. He knew they were just doing their best, but he couldn’t lose any more time to this.

Etho couldn’t quite click back at them, the noise came from the softer branches of the antlers, which looked a lot like weird foliage, but seemed to be able to move and swing on command. He hadn’t grown any yet. But he could click with his mouth, and he did his best to imitate their sounds. 

The warden clicked back, then turned away, leaving Etho to his own devices. He sighed and focused on his feet. He needed to get to the surface soon. He needed to get out of the burrow and away from the grotto. And to do that he needed to be able to walk and dig.

Etho clutched his hands together, and wondered if his hands would grow big and strong with tough, curved claws like the other wardens had. As much as he hated the idea of his body changing even more… anything to escape at this point.

~

His antlers grew in quickly, quickly becoming long, curling up at the end. The soft moving bits that felt a bit like branches were also coming in, and Etho found it easy to control them, either to collect more vibrations, or to hit them against each other. Soon Etho was able to click to his heart’s content, though his voice wasn’t quite deep enough to groan and roar like the other wardens did, nor did he have the ability to make a sonic blast. His fur was also coming in long and thick, and Etho was starting to find his vest and turtleneck uncomfortable to wear. He refused to give them up though, refused to give up that bit of humanity.

He didn’t have much of a choice though, as his body began to change more and more. His hands grew claws. At first, he thought his nails were just growing out, without the ability to trim that was normal. But then he tried to tear one short and found it too thick and curved to budge. His fingers also became rougher, a redstoner’s calluses fading away for something closer to pads that he had a hard time feeling through.

At least his ankle had been vastly improving, and while he still limped a bit, he was able to move and get around the new burrow.

Now that he was mobile and could conceivably escape, he was getting restless, and he can tell that his restlessness is affecting the rest of the grotto. He was getting better at understanding them, the heartbeat no longer brought him into that state of nothing, it brought him into a state more like a collective understanding, feelings and knowledge and sustenance traveling from one to another with ease. It scared Etho a bit, how easy it was to understand and lose himself in the collective. What if when he got to the surface, he couldn’t understand them anymore? What if one day he got so lost that he couldn’t come out? That when the hermits found him, he was just another warden to them, and they were just a bunch of vibrations to him?

It was scary, but Etho knew, soon he’d be able to go home. He just had to hope that the hermits were still waiting for him when he got home.

~

Etho knew something was going down when the burrow was pierced by a horrible shriek. He could feel the anger of the other wardens, and it almost swept him away in a wave of rage and discomfort. But he forced himself to stay centered. If this was a shrieker like he thought- shriekers only activated for players. A hermit might be up there, might be able to help him. He’d been looking for an opportunity like this to escape, he just had to stay levelheaded.

He let the rage wash over him and waited. A second shriek came a minute later, only riling up the wardens more. C'mon c'mon c'mon, one of you go up, show him the path to the main chamber. Show him how to get home.

A third shrieker. The anger was almost overwhelming, and even Etho could admit that the sound was absolutely grating on his soul. He calmed himself by imagining which hermit was out there. Maybe it was Beef, good dependable Beef who always knew the best way to draw Etho out of his head, ready to take Etho home and tease him gently about getting kidnapped by a minigame. Maybe it was Bdubs, who didn’t even mean to set off the shrieker but couldn’t help being so loud, come to drag him to bed. Sleeping in a player bed sounded like a dream right now. Maybe it was Xisuma, working relentlessly to save his hermits even when there were no leads. Maybe he’d finally figured out where Etho was from the code and was going to teleport him right out of there and take him home. Maybe- maybe it was Tango. Etho felt sadness well up in him for Tango. Tango, who spent so long working on this minigame, who should’ve been enjoying the hermits’ reactions to his amazing creation but was instead searching tirelessly for the hermit he lost in it.

Etho decided he’d be happy no matter who was out there. He just wanted to go home.

The fourth shrieker. One of the wardens roared, and began to dig up in a specific spot, while the others stayed put. Etho slipped out of the grasp of the grotto and followed closely behind. He’s coming home.

~

 “Doors are slamming in my face, and the vex aren’t attacking anymore. Think they might be herding me. Don’t know where. In a room full of ravines now, not quite sure how to get to the exit again.”

Etho didn’t sound as panicked as he described what was happening in the dungeon, but that only scared Tango more. He didn’t realize the danger he was in. Tango scrambled on his comm, trying to contact Xisuma to give Etho a quick port out of there.

“Oh no. Oh that's very bad, very bad. Get out of that area, there’s a few holes there that I haven’t-” 

There was something like a crash and a shout of pain that cut him, and a series of more crashes before the connection cut off. Tango scrambled to check the main chat, but there was no death message.

-Finished covering.

Tango scrambled, calling Xisuma immediately. The ravines were deep, deep enough to kill at any health, but a few of them had holes in the bottom that led deeper into the dungeon, deeper beyond where the dungeon lay into the deep dark areas below. If Etho didn’t die when he fell- he must have landed somewhere worse.

Tango was deeply attached to Decked Out 2. They weren’t the same but Decked Out 2 had a lot of his emotions and love and hate for things. Including his friends.

He should’ve realized that he was going too far when he told it about Etho, the champion. When he complained and teased and loved Etho where the dungeon could hear him and it responded with curiosity. He should’ve realized that its interest was getting too intense for something that wasn’t ever meant to be alive.

As his comm rang, Tango flew down into the belly of the beast, following the path Etho would’ve fallen.

“Give him back!” he shouted into the belly, radiating anger through the dungeon.

The dungeon growled back, and a blast of cold air came through, nearly knocking Tango out of the air.

“He’s not yours, you can’t have him!”

The dungeon only gave him silence now that it had offered its refusal.

“I’m never going to give you another hermit again. You’re never going to see the light of day.” Tango hissed and landed in the belly under the fourth level.

Xisuma finally answered the call, and before he could even respond, Tango was yelling, “You need to teleport Etho!”

Xisuma sputtered on the other side of the line, “Tango, what?”

“Etho can’t get out and I can't reach him, you need to get him out of there!”

There was silence for a moment, and Tango could faintly hear some clicking from Xisuma’s end of the call. Then the clicking paused, and Xisuma made a concerned noise.

“Tango, what happened?” Xisuma’s voice was serious.

“Did you get him out of there?”

“The system is no longer connecting with his comm or code. Tango, what happened?”

Tango broke down and told him everything.

~

Xisuma helped him rally the hermits to search through the lower levels of Decked Out 2, after shutting off all of the redstone. Tango shut down the entire system, loudly declaring to the dungeon that he’d never turn it back on. He was so angry, he could hardly stand to look at the tunnels of the dungeon, to think about the long hours he had put into all of this and how badly it had been twisted.

The hermits tore through the dungeon with a speed he’d never seen from them before. It was clear everyone was mad about Etho’s disappearance. But there was nothing to be found in the tunnel, and Etho’s comm remained frustratingly out of reach. Finally, people had been forced to take a break. There was nothing more they could do except dig up the entirety of the area under and around decked out, and that couldn’t be done quickly in any way that would be safe for Etho.

Xisuma had privately confided to them that he was scared that Etho hadn’t just been disconnected from his network, but from the network responsible for respawning. If they killed Etho while clearing the area, they might not even know.

Which meant that the hermits, who were already close to the point of running on fumes after 3 weeks straight of searching, would have to dig out those chunks by hand. It would take weeks, maybe even months. So instead, they’d focus on searching the caves, and if that didn’t work, they’d dig it all out. But people had to be patient and take breaks in between cavings.

Xisuma was clear, they weren’t abandoning Etho. But he wasn’t going to let anyone else run themselves to death’s door searching. This was the best compromise to that. Bdubs and Tango were the most resistant to the plans. Tango knew Bdubs hadn’t been sleeping much recently. He was so worried, and Tango couldn’t blame him, finding it hard to sleep himself. The idea of having to go home and rest was unthinkable to the both of them.

Etho’s old home was still in Bdubs’s basement. Tango wondered if it felt as empty as Tango’s starter base did.

Impulse had tried to offer his base, so that Tango didn’t have to go back to the starter area most hermits had abandoned at spawn, but the dwarven fortress felt too close to Decked Out, the blackstone and blue too familiar. He’d already dropped his own visage of the dungeon master, falling into the comfort of red and orange flames and the heat of the world outside. He couldn’t go back to the cold underground.

~

Tango couldn’t stay away from the Dungeon for long though. After 13 months he just-

It was hard to step away from everything he’d worked on.

And that’s how Tango found himself back at his own doorstep, feeling like a stranger in his own house.

He slipped through the massive doors and shivered. His leather vest didn’t keep him warm like the dungeon master’s coat and hood did, but he couldn’t put that back on, couldn’t reclaim possession of this awful place.

“You took him.”

It was a question as much as it was a statement, but there was no answer.

“Are you at least happy with yourself? Happy that you’ve traded him for everything else you could’ve had? They all would have loved you.”

Tango thinks that if the building could’ve purred with satisfaction, it would. He sighed. There really was no use arguing with it, but sometimes he thought that just maybe- maybe it would give him back if it realized.

“When we get Etho back I'm going to let Doc tear you to the ground.”

Decked Out didn’t give him much more as Tango slipped back out of the dungeon, but he got the distinct impression that it was laughing, taunting maybe. When. That really was the big question wasn’t it.

~

They found the entrance to the Deep Dark five weeks and two days after Etho went missing. The entrance to the Deep Dark was pretty small, and a lot closer to bedrock than most Deep Dark pockets were. It was also big. It took another two days to get a team together to search it. In the end, it was him, Xisuma, Zed, and Beef that got to storm the deep dark. Bdubs, who hadn’t been sleeping, got put on mandatory break from searching until his eye bags were smaller than his eyes and he could be around people without hissing at them. Xisuma took his place, hoping he could look for traces of Etho in the code. He said if he could just get a solid hint of Etho he could probably reconnect him to the network.

The deep dark was creepy. Incredibly so. Despite the lore Tango had created for the dungeon, he never actually went down this far to check for the deep dark. He had enough to do, digging out the entire area to bedrock didn’t seem worthwhile. He was cursing himself for it now as they explored. If he’d just taken the few extra weeks and fully cleared the area-

Zed nudged him, leaning in close like he wanted Tango to lean back into him. Tango shook his head and banished the spiral of thoughts. He needed to focus, they needed to save Etho in the here and now, distractions won’t help.

The group did a quick overview of the Deep Dark first, taking out any shriekers so that they wouldn’t trigger a warden, then they split up into pairs and searched the pocket as best they could for any sign of Etho. Zed tugged Tango along towards the upper areas, powerful goat legs and balance helping to propel him up to those dark corners. Tango soon found himself playing bodyguard, as Zed didn’t quite move slow enough for him to follow, but he didn’t move fast enough for the mobs to not take notice of him. Tango took out his bow and got to work shooting down the mob following Zed.

Both of them froze, and tango had to throw his aim to the side to avoid accidentally hitting Zedaph when there was a shout from the ground.

“WE’VE GOT SOMETHING!!!”

A significantly quieter “Oh goodness me,” echoed the shout, so Tango felt safe in an assumption that the shouting was Beef.

He and Zed made a beeline for the other two and found X with his full admin unit out and Beef with his pickaxe out and already breaking some blocks.

“Where are we digging to?” Zed asked, already pulling his pick from his inventory.

“30 blocks down, a little northeast. Terrain generation says there should be a small cave, about the size of a chunk, but we’re down too deep to get an accurate read on if there’s anything living there. About the only other thing I can say is that Etho was definitely there at some point recently.” Before X was even half done explaining, Tango was done beside Beef, digging through the crumbly mixture of stone and skulk.

Between the three of them they quickly broke into a smaller pocket in the rock, full of sculk and patches of wool. After Beef cleared that there were no mobs, they dropped down into the room.

Xisuma planted himself in the center of the room, panels still up, combing through the code for Etho. The other three combed over the room.

The room looked normal, empty and a bit creepy sure, but that’s just how the deep dark was. Tango didn’t realize there was anything more to it until he heard Zed’s strangled gasp. He turned and froze at the sight.

In Zed’s hands was a plain black face mask, with one of the ear straps completely broken off. It had to be Etho’s, he never went anywhere without it.

The rest of the search went by in a blur after they found Etho’s mask. Xisuma confirmed that it was definitely Etho’s, and he’d been wearing it within the last week. There was nothing else to be found in the room, nothing but traces of code. Etho had been in there just a day or two ago. There was no trace of where he went.

Tango forced himself to stay calm until he got home, not wanting to hurt his friends with his rage. His hair was already flickering, going from simple golden blonde to a glowing orange. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to set something on fire.

Even if he was careful- he’d just prefer his friend not be there to see it.

He was so angry!

They were so close!

If they hadn’t waited Etho would be home!

Tango only barely made it to the hard rock of spawn before the rest of his body followed his hair and burst into flames. He’s glad he didn’t make it all the way home, his house had too much wood for this level of rage.

Tango didn’t know how long he spent in that burning anger. At some point he must have fallen to his knees, because when he became aware of himself once more the first thing he became aware of was rapidly cooling stone under his knees and legs.

The second thing he became aware of were soft murmured words, “-okay, we’re gonna get you inside buddy, here just lean on me, let Impulse take care of you.”

He became aware of several things in short succession after that. Warm arms, wrapping around him in a comforting embrace, slowly lifting him up from the ground. The sensation of his head flames slowly extinguishing, dying back past even his normal levels. And cold, biting rain, beating down on his body, driving the warmth of his anger from the entire anger. In the wake of it, Tango felt nothing.

A wall of warmth hit him, not quite as strong as the actual wall of warmth that was holding him, but it felt hollow. He felt hollow. He remained limp in Impulse’s arms, letting him carry him wherever he wanted. It was so cold…

Some traitorous part of him thought of the way his skin froze in the lower layers of Decked Out 2, how cold Etho must be all alone down there. This could only be a portion of what Etho had suffered through at the hands of his creation.

Large, callused hands held his face and Impulse’s voice called out for him, so reluctantly Tango let his eyes flutter open. And there he was, Impulse, soaked to the bone from the rain but still smiling the moment he saw Tango. 

“There you are. When Zed said you stormed off after the raid and never came back, I didn't think I’d find you sittin’ all alone in the rain, man. You’ll extinguish yourself like that.” Impulse was gentle, even with the implied admonishments.

Tango groaned, not feeling up to speaking after the highs and lows of a rage, and turned his head, rubbing his cheek against Impulse’s palm. His skin caught a bit against the dry and cracking edges of his calluses and the heat that gathered in them was almost burning with the temperature difference from outside, but Tango only pushed against him harder. Impulse chuckled but didn’t pull away.

“Oh Tangs,” If Tango was a just more present maybe he could’ve interpreted Impulse’s tone a little better, but for now he was just focusing on how good the warmth felt, “one of these days you're going to remember that you're not alone before we get to this point.”

Their foreheads met and Tango could feel the imp horns jutting out of Impulse’s head. It was familiar and comforting, exactly what he needed right now.

“We’ll get him back buddy. I promise.”

~

It took another two weeks for them to find another lead on Etho. Xisuma had gotten some good information from the traces of Etho’s code he found below the deep dark, but it took a while to parse which direction he was taken in.

But they finally had something, and Tango refused to hesitate.

This time, with more definitive proof, an entire gaggle of hermits showed up. Bdubs was finally back, Beef was here again, False and Gem had both offered their combat skills in case they ran into a warden, and Impulse had refused to leave Tango alone, so he was coming as well.

And Xisuma was coming so that when they got Etho he could make sure he stayed safe.

The lead led them almost ten chunks beyond Decked Out’s borders, to another Deep Dark biome. But it was bigger this time, with an entire ancient city sprawling through it. This was going to take forever to go through, and Tango found himself wishing that they had brought more hermits along, to get through this faster.

False was the first one to make a plan, sitting in the tunnel entrance before the shriekers made it hard to communicate. She split them off into pairs to remove shriekers, leaving Xisuma on his own to try to find Etho. If a warden got summoned, they’d run back here and focus on bowing the warden down.

Tango didn’t know who set off the first shrieker, but the sound of Impulse cursing under his breath was stuck in his head, only barely audible under the echoing shriek. It played on echo in his head for the next minute, ringing in his ears as they searched, until a sculk tentacle took advantage of his distraction and wrapped around his leg, yanking him down off the path of wool they’d been laying down. He landed hard enough for it to send sound shooting off into the distance. A few seconds later, a shrieker went off further in front of them. Impulse sighed, but didn’t say a word, just pulling him back onto the path. They managed to get rid of that shrieker and one other that was nearby without another issue.

The third shriek came from somewhere to the east of them, closer this time. Had it been this hard to avoid the shriekers the last time he raided the deep dark? Maybe there was a reason Xisuma had tried to keep the number of hermits so low.

The clicking of wardens beneath was loud enough to hear now, foreboding and long. Just one more and the warden would emerge, and this searching would get a whole lot more complicated.

Tango watched his steps carefully. Cmon, they had to do this now, they had to get to Etho before he was taken away again. They couldn’t afford a warden right now, Tango wouldn’t let Etho slip through his fingers again!

But, as had been made extremely clear through this entire ordeal, Tango wasn’t the one in control. The fourth shrieker went off somewhere behind them and the sound of roaring and cracking earth followed it.

“Oh jeez," Impulse’s voice was strained from the stress, but he grabbed Tango’s hand and scrambled backwards, his little imp wings flaring to facilitate the fast turn, “Okay- Okay we need to get back to the others. Come on buddy, we need to hurry.”

Tango dug the heels of his boots in, “We aren’t done with this area, he could still be here.”

Impulse looked ready to growl at him, “Or he could be anywhere else. We told the others we’d come back to help fight the warden.”

“They can handle themselves; they’ll all be together. He’s alone.” This was the loudest either of them had gotten since entering the deep dark, and Tango did his best to keep his voice at a hiss instead of getting louder. The wardens were active now, they didn’t need another warden running around.

And then suddenly Impulse was close, practically on top of Tango, “He’s not alone. We’re looking for him. We’ve always been looking for him. But we need to stick to the plan, Xisuma probably knows where he is at this point, or at least a direction to look.”

Tango glared at Impulse, and was ready to pull back, when suddenly Impulse’s thick arms wrapped around his chest, pinning his arms to his side. Tango let out the start of a shriek, before digging his claws into Impulse’s arms, kicking and fighting to get loose.

Impulse didn’t even flinch, even though Tango could feel that he was taking damage. Instead, he turned, carrying Tango back to the others.

“You act like you're handling this alone.” Impulse muttered, “you aren’t the only one who cares about him, the only one looking for him. We’re a team Tangs, don’t push us away.”

Tango hissed at him, but obediently went limp as they got closer to the main area, not wanting to risk triggering anything else. He kept his eyes trained out into the darkness, the familiar pulsing of the darkness effect kicking in as they got closer to the main area and the warden. He could hear voices up ahead, but the darkness came in to totally blind him for a second, keeping him from actually seeing anything. Impulse’s steady gait kept them safe on the wool path though, not straying even though Tango knew he must have been as blind as Tango was. Voices got closer and the glow of a normal torch came into view, cutting through the darkness. The others.

Tango wiggled in Impulse’s grasp, trying to get down before they got to the others, but impulse didn’t budge. The darkness started filtering away as they approached the others and Tango could see that everyone had already made it before them. No darkness pulsed back in, so they must have made it out of range.

Thankfully Impulse dropped him once they made it to the little hole in the wall, and tango took a moment to glare at him before turning back to the others.

“Alright, who summoned the warden?” Impulse teased and even Tango had to laugh as everyone suddenly pointed a finger at Xisuma, who only glared at them.

“It caught Gem and False’s scent, so it’s a bit further away from us right now, but it’s still really close. You’re lucky, I thought for sure you’d get cut off.” Xisuma said.

“We nearly didn’t,” Impulse said, setting one of his hands on Tango’s shoulder, “the darkness got close enough that I thought we were goners for sure. 20 blocks of leeway is not a comfortable distance from a warden, even if we were only in range for a few seconds.”

The others gave some commiserating sounds of distress. The darkness effect was scary just for the blindness, but the implication of closeness that came with it was almost worse.

Craaack

The sudden sound of stone and sculk splitting to another warden cut off further conversation. They all turned to stare at each other. There couldn’t be another warden, not unless something was out there to summon it and sculk had a hard time activating for anything but players. But all of them were already present. The only player who would be anywhere close…

Bdubs came to the realization first, shooting out of their bolt hole like a bullet out of a gun, and Tango wasn’t far behind him.

“ETHO!” he shouted, not caring about the wardens in the frenzy. This was the closest they'd been to Etho in weeks, he wasn’t giving this up. “ETHO WE’RE HERE, WHERE ARE YOU?”

There was nothing but a distant roar, and Tango immediately turned towards it. The second warden would’ve spawned near Etho, so that would give them a good starting point. Unfortunately, that put them directly in the path of the first path, which had wandered closer to the bolt area in search of them. Darkness began to pulse across his vision, to prove the proximity.

In front of him, Bdubs skittered around the edge of the warden’s range, jumping from one wool block to the next, surprisingly graceful for a man of his diminished stature. Tango decided on a more direct path, he didn’t think he could make those jumps, not with the darkness.

‘Just like avoiding an iron golem,’ Tango thought, ‘just a lot bigger and stronger.’

He jumped around the warden’s waving arms, sliding around a hit, just close enough to feel it brush past his netherite armor. Darkness pulsed across his vision again, but he didn’t let it slow him down. He had to get out of range, and he’d be safe to find Etho. In a straight shot a player could easily outrun just about any mob, even the warden. He just needed to get that straight shot first.

Tango pushed his strides just a bit longer, throwing himself out of range as much as he could while staying on his feet, and kept running once his feet hit wool. Behind him the warden roared at the lost prey.

He kept running, soon getting to the central area where Xisuma had been. His eyes caught on the faint glow of a shrieker just beyond the boundaries of the area. That must have been what got him. Now where was Etho?

Tango wasn’t paying attention to where he was running as he scanned his surroundings for Etho or the warden he summoned. So, he didn’t see when Bdubs came to a dead stop right in front of him. They collided like a car crash and only Bdubs’s strong core kept them from falling to the ground.

“What the h-!” Bdubs’s arm flailed up and he slapped his hand over Tango’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. His other hand came up to point across the main plaza area.

Tango looked directly ahead, and the first thing he saw was a teal glow, tall and dark. His brain immediately caught onto the threat, a warden.

Great! Wonderful! That must be Etho’s warden! Why are they stopping?

It took a moment for his brain to see what else Bdubs had seen. The longer he focused in on the warden, the more things seemed off. For some reason there was green.

Tango blinked. There couldn’t be green. Nothing was green in the deep dark, nothing but players. Definitely not a warden.

Tango pulled away from Bdubs and crept closer to the mysterious warden. It was shorter than most wardens, thinner too. It was the standard deep navy blue of a warden, covered in lighter pulsating spots, but there was a lone shock of white on its head. Its back was turned, and it was sniffing the air, but its antler things were smaller than the other warden’s antlers.

The most damning evidence though, was the source of the green. It was hung over the warden’s torso, almost pierced through by the rough white growths on it’s arms. Like they had grown while the warden was wearing it.

Tango came to a horrible realization.

“Etho?”

The warden’s head turned, and Tango was frozen as their eyes locked. Or. Should’ve locked.

Because while he was staring straight at Etho, and he was looking in the direction of his eyes, Etho had no eyes to stare into. Navy and white swirled hair draped long over his face, but Tango could catch glimpses, there was nothing underneath. Only hair and his wide, empty mouth.

“Taaaaannggo?” Etho’s voice was cracked and deeper than Tango remembered, likely from disuse and- everything that happened to him.

Tango stumbled forward, but with the confirmation Bdubs was even faster. He launched himself past Tango, scrambling over the rough terrain to get to Etho. Tango followed a moment later at a slightly more cautious speed.

“ETHO!” Bdubs’s shouting was shrill but warranted as he threw himself into Etho’s arms. Etho stiffened at the sudden noise and touch but relaxed into Bdubs’s arms.

“Beeeeduus.” Etho’s voice collapsed into a crackling drone, but Tango nodded encouragingly.

“Yeah, Bdubs, and Tango, and Xisuma and Beef and others are around here too. We’re going to get you out of here Etho, you’re going to be okay.” Tango said and watched with mild horror as one of Etho’s antlers swung towards him as he talked.

“Beeeefeers?”

Tango nodded, and then hummed in acknowledgment when that got nothing from Etho, “Yeah, yeah Beef’s with us too. So, this is going excellent. They’re being slow, but everyone’s waiting back home for you Etho. Xisuma’s gonna be here soon and he’ll get us all back home.”

“Home.”

It was the most normal sounding word Etho had spoken thus far, and Tango couldn’t help but laugh with relief. “Yeah. Home. Just a little longer Etho.”

~

The two months Etho were gone were the worst, most stressful months of Tango’s life. The two months after he was found were- honestly still pretty stressful, but significantly better.

Xisuma’s fears had been right, Etho had been disconnected from the respawn network, which was Terror of the Fying variety. But after a bit of bug testing and some consultation off world for the coding, he got everything fixed and Etho was now very safe from any more threats.

The wardenification wasn’t so easily fixed. A good scrub and some messing around with the code got rid of most of the staining, though his hair remained pretty stubbornly navy. He wore it long now, without bothering to tie it up. It was striking enough that it made it hard to focus on where Etho’s eyes were supposed to be.

They were just gone. The scar that had crossed over his left eye was still there, but now it continued across the empty expanse of skin over his eye sockets. Etho couldn’t see how unsettling it was, but it was clear someone had let it slip, because he seemed pretty ashamed of it at times.

Xisuma had been contacting people off world for Etho. Both people familiar with warden and hybrid code, and people who specialized in orientation and movement, for blind people. Because that’s what Etho was. Permanently. Etho didn’t seem too bugged by it, mostly just joked about not needing much help with the orientation part, just make a noise and he could orient himself perfectly fine, but Beef had said he was worried about how Etho was getting used to his cane. He was easily overwhelmed by the repeating tap tap tap it made as he used it, and they had yet to find an option that muffled the sound to a good level for him and still let him hear it vibrate against different surfaces.

At least Etho seemed to be liking his Antlers. Apparently, they'd been the last thing to grow in, within the last two weeks of his capture. Tango wanted to feel bad that they couldn’t stop it but honestly all he could feel was relief that the next stage hadn’t started. Etho’s situation wasn’t exactly common, but it wasn’t totally unique either. Tango had done his research when they got Etho back and it, it was bad. Bad with extra badness. After the antlers grow out to a usable length, the chest opens up and the soul emerges, at which point playerhood is unrecoverable. Even a week longer and they would’ve lost Etho forever.

But they did make it on time. And Tango just had to focus on that. They all survived.

Etho was home.

[mawrblaidddrwg]

[jaguarys]

Just rediscovered my "Kallus doesn't escape for some time post-discovery" WIP from last year and was startled by some banger lines