#not for the of the murder but for the players and their movements and their hearts

[stillabookworm-ifonlyinspirit]

If We Were Villains

Foreshadowing, or something akin to that

#et tu brute #oh how it was so obvious and still gripping #not for the of the murder but for the players and their movements and their hearts #if we were villains #iwwv #oliver marks #james farrow #richard stirling #meredith dardenne #alexander vass #philippa kosta #wren stirling #ml rio #iwwv spoilers #if we were villains spoilers

[vintagerpg]

I8: Ravager of Time (1986) has a little Union Jack on the cover, which means it was produced in the UK. If you look inside, that’s pretty obvious if you’re at all familiar with the UK-series modules — this one is laid out similarly, with big art pieces and a flare for graphic design that is not really present in the US modules. The interiors are by Tim Sell and are a good deal darker (in tone and in form, lots of heavy line work) than US modules. Cover is Jeff Anderson, a name and style I don’t really recognize, but it’s really an excellent cover — bright colors, full of movement and narrative.

I generally like the UK adventures because they aren’t so dungeon obsessed as the American products. This one…doesn’t have a single dungeon? It’s all wilderness or city encounters (er, town, I guess). The players are drawn in because of a murder (complete with a trial!) and have to puzzle together what is really going on, a mystery that has an evil sorceress who feeds on youth (thus aging her victims) in order to stay…uh…I guess slightly less old. Though not technically a hag, she sure looks and acts like one, which makes this adventure, with its moorland and its sense of generational decay, feel like a Hammer horror film or maybe a folk horror jam. It ISN’T, really, not quite, but the atmosphere there. It’s distinctly British in a way I am not sure any of the other UK modules match.

#roleplaying game #tabletop rpg #dungeons & dragons #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #I8 #Ravager Of Time

[theresattrpgforthat]

i want to destroy the god king and begin an anarchist uprising. culminating in participating in the aftermath building a new world

You and me both buddy. Let’s get started.

THEME: Destroy God

Dethrone Skeleton God, by emmy verse.

DETHRONE SKELETON GOD. THAT IS ALL YOU HAVE TO DO.

In this gmless role playing game you will set out on a journey to find and dethrone the aforementioned god. You will need some d6s, a d12, and some writing materials.

This game pulls a lot of inspiration from some pretty stellar games, including No Stone Unturned, EXTRACAUSAL, Trophy, and Blades in the Dark. You will play racing against three Fallout Tracks, which track the collapse of the material world, the immaterial world, and the Skeleton God’s Power. When all tracks are full, the game is over, and you narrate how the world ends.

If nobody in your group wants the burden/responsibility of running a game, this game is an excellent option as it is both GM-less and lightweight. It’s only 16 pages long and covers creating location elements and exploring them as a group. Everything is collaborative, so if you’re interested in games that let you come up with a story together as you go, you might want to check out this game.

Dead Gods, by Trollish Delver Games.

After the Cataclysm of Heaven it all changed. Murdered gods fell from the sky, sundering the land and casting their sacred relics about the world. From the woodwork crawl Warcults, scavengers of god-relics to further their own twisted gains. The Eternal seek power over death itself. The Order of the Stars seek relics to unlock god-like omniscience. The Pale Druids imbibe relics to acquire power over nature itself. The Black Maw will create a new, hungrier god under their control. 

Pick up a lovingly-designed weird cult and pit them against your friend in a desperate effort to grab a sacred god-relic in this miniatures skirmish game. Each player will control a number of different kinds of war cult members, and there are 4 war cults to embody in the upcoming skirmish. Great for PvP and lovers of combat, but if you want narrative you’ll want to pick up something else or mostly RP it out. You can also check out Unholy Scavengers, for more relics, more scenarios, more models - more more more!

Karanduun - Make God Bleed, by makapatag.(@makapatag)

Karanduun is a modern Filipino Epic RPG about worthless heroes dismantling God, whatever cycle of oppression that must be.  Inspired by modern Filipino folklore and culture. You play as young heroes who must make their legend known and become a legendary Karanduun by making God (whichever oppressive system and tyrant that is) bleed.

Lovers of Kill Six Billion Demons will probably get a big kick out of this game. The god Batala is already dead, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for some rebellion of your own. There are demons, corrupt angels, and other Kings of the Earth to defeat, in a post-American world inspired by the Philippines. If you’re looking for some narrative play, this game has got you covered, with rules inspired by Exalted 1e and PbtA. You can check out the physical version of this game on SoulMuppet’s website!

Skorne, by Dreaming Dragonslayer.

You are renegades, part of mankind’s insurrection against SKORNE who is devil prince, commander of demon rulers and their armies, and the darkness that reigns. Overthrow the evil Tyrants. Free chained captives. Fight to the last man.

Part of the NSR movement, Skorne is inspired by media such as Berserk, MORK BORG, and games like Dark Souls and Elden Ring. The game itself is only 4 pages long, with a really interesting system for character creation. You roll for your abilities and then use their values to determine your starting kit. The language in the game is also great for putting you into the fiction, such as the instructions found for character name choice:

“In the beginning, give thy renegade a name, though it will not save them.”

You want gritty and dire circumstances? You want to kill demon princes? You wanna play a game with random tyrant generation? This is for you.

Extreme Meatpunks Forever, by Sinister Beard Games.

"In the beginning, there was meat. A decaying chunk of flesh from a dying god, hurtling through the void of space, thousands of miles wide. A million eyes, a billion hands grasping for purchase against nothingness itself.  This is where we live.”

EXTREME MEATPUNKS FOREVER is a tabletop roleplaying game where you’ll play as a gang of queer antifascists in a strange place called Meatworld. Spinning through space on the screaming corpse of a dead god under the glow of an absent sun, the people of Meatworld harvest its flesh to make their technology.

Embody your queer rage and kill fascists in meat-mechs in Extreme Meatpunks Forever. A PbtA game, this option is narrative-heavy and allows you to pick from some pretty metal weapons, including (but not limited to) Excellent Seasoning, A Bit Stick What Has Shrapnel In It, and Deathfucker Cannon. In your downtime, you can kiss your friends and work to heal and deal with your trauma. If you want a game that feels metal and also presents you with extremely punchable enemies, this is your game!

Other Recommendations

If you want some more recommendations you can also check out the Attack and Dethrone God Jam on itch.io, or my Revolution recommendation post.

If you’re interested in what happens after you end the world, then I recommend my Post-Apocalyptic Community Building recommendations!

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #revolution #rebellion #kill six billion demons

[beejunos]

SINNERMAN | Alastor x f.reader | part 2

Summary: After Sir Pentious’s failed attempt at spying on the hotel, the Vees approach you to make a new deal—a deal that you can’t refuse. Help them take down Alastor, and you will get to kill him again.

After all, the great butcher of New Orleans had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. And you would love to do it again.

Tags: Alastor x f!reader, slow burn, obsessive behaviour, enemies to lovers, spying, murder

PART 1. | PART 2. | Part 3. | AO3

Chapter 2. Offers of Champagne

Even if your office had modern technology incorporated into the older environment, you still preferred the sound of an old record player over the more modern ones. There was just something so soothing about an older record player, with its raspy and non-clean sound. 

It almost made you wish that you had died at an older age so that you could have experienced the evolution of music, but thankfully, your staff members loved to share the music they had loved to listen to while alive with you, and you often listened collectively to someone's choice in music at the end of a work day. Your only rule was that if they were going to play their music in the afternoon in the office, they had to use the LP record player and never a CD. 

The look on Vox's face, as he re-entered your office and heard the soft music from the record player echoing in the large open-plan office, had been equally confused and intrigued, and you wondered if his home was comprised of primarily modern technology. He was, after all, the owner of Prids tech giant.

"Oh, sinnerman, where you gonna run to? Sinnerman, where you gonna run to?" Oh, how you wished you had been alive to hear Nina Simone sing this song.

You stood still by the door to your private office, waiting for Vox to approach. He kept closing and opening his fists as he got closer and closer to the open door, his shoulders tensing as a slight buzzing sound came from him. 

"I did not expect you and your colleagues to get the 1500 souls so fast. You are full of surprises, Mr. Vox." You did not intend to torment him; you had never tormented any clients before, but you could not help yourself to tease him a bit. He was just so reactive, and your grin only grew as he shot you an irked glance.

The last thing you hear of Nina before closing the door behind Vox is her prayer for the Lord to save her. Oh, how ironicly fitting for Hell. 

"It was not too much of a hassle," lied Vox as he sat down on the same moss green couch he sat on the first time the two of you met.

In reality, Velvet and Valentino had been furious with Vox that he had agreed to the deal without talking to them beforehand, but because of the nature of dealmaking in Hell, they could not back down from the contract. It was binding, and everyone's hands were tied. You could not not fulfil their request, and they could not ignore paying you. 

"It has only been three business days. Usually, it takes weeks until I get paid for these delicate contracts," you said, folding your wings over the backset of your green armchair as you sat down. Even if wings had turned out to be a terrific addition to your afterlife, they could be quite a nuisance to live with. Sitting down in chairs and even sleeping could be quite an ordeal that had taken you some time to get used to, but it didn't outweigh the freeing feeling of flying.

As you cross your legs in front of you, effectively accentuating their curve in your black pencil skirt, you say Vox's eyes flicker down briefly before looking back up at your face. The disadvantage of having a TV screen as the face of your demonic form was that every eye movement one made became far more apparent to the observers. 

You dully noted Vox's small attraction toward you and filed it away in your mind. Keeping the information if you ever had to manipulate him again when his obsession wasn't driving his actions.

"Well, as you may know, you can always trust us to deliver," disclosed Vox, trying to give you a confident and suggestive smirk. You leaned your arm against the armrest, using your hand to cover the grin that pulled at the corner of your mouth.

Vox had a charm to him in a very pathetic way, but then again, you had never met a man who wasn't pathetic.

"After this meeting, I don't want you or your colleagues contacting me unless it is absolutely necessary. If you need me, you will first contact Claudine, and she will contact me. The less we interact, the easier my job becomes." 

Vox nodded in confirmation. His eyes glowed with determination. 

The transfer of souls was a harmless and relatively uneventful ordeal compared to whenever a deal was struck. You and Vox would shake hands, just like any other deal, but this time, there would be a golden light and the outlines of chains spinning around your hands instead of the sickly green light you were more used to. You could feel the souls moving from Vox's being over to you, and it felt almost like you could breathe easier. Your wings and ears twitched as you inhaled deeply at the feel of your powers expanding inside you. 

When you let go of the overlord's hand, Vox looked paler than usual. His hand shaking as he pulled it towards himself. 

"Would you like a cup of tea? Maybe something to eat?" you asked softly, feeling sorry for the sinner. Even if transferring soul contracts from one sinner to another doesn't look like a burdensome experience, it could drain the energy of the one giving the souls away relatively fast. You had found that the best remedy for that specific type of fatigue was to drink something warm and have something small to eat. 

Vox only nodded before he sank down further into your sofa. 

On the outside, Hell and Pride could seem like lawless societies where the laws of the jungle prevailed, and to a certain extent, it was so, but there was also a part of Pride where people grasped after power with greedy hands. If not through physical means, then by being the most cunning person in the room. 

Most sinners playing these games desperately tried to be the ones playing the game of chess instead of being the pawns on the playfield. However, only a few of the sinners were able to become players instead of tools in these vicious games. 

After all, this was the Pride ring of Hell. Reputation and connections were everything, and you prided yourself in having lots of connections all throughout the city and even beyond it. 

Connections and deals were the silent currency of Pride, and thanks to you being rich in this, you were able to get into a highly private gala event that you knew the princess of Hell, Charlotte "Charlie" Morningstar, would attend. 

While Vox had argued in your meeting that you should have just gone to the hotel and introduced yourself to the princess instead of waiting a week, you claimed that a tactic like that would not have been natural and could have created suspicion in the others. Something that you did not have the luxury of even considering. 

Instead, you went with your idea, which led you to the private gala and to mingle with highly prolific sinners and demons in a penthouse overlooking the city. 

As you walked through the penthouse after politely leaving a conversation with a gorgon-like demon and a sinner with two heads, you grabbed two glasses of champagne as a staff member passed you by. Your green and black striped satin dress swayed like water as you moved through the crowd, heading to a downfallen Charlie, who had unsuccessfully tried to talk to someone about her hotel. 

"I would not morn the conversation you may have had with that sinner," you said in a soft voice, pointing with the champagne glass in hand at the shark demon Charlie had just talked to, "Mr Dubois is known for his drug dealings, and he is also a compulsory lier who is probably the worst thief I have ever seen." 

"Oh, really?" Charlie sounded genuinely surprised as she looked over at Mr Dubois, who was trying to talk to a representative from the Wrath ring. How the shark demon had made it into this gala was beyond you. Maybe he had a PR specialist who could work magic? 

You offered the princess the extra glass of champagne you had brought, which she took gingerly. Creating a better opportunity for you to trap her in your conversation. 

"I saw your interview on the news about your hotel." You said while taking a small sip of the bubbly alcohol, leaving a red lipstick stain on the rim of the glass. "I'm sorry for how that woman, Katie Killjoy, treated you." 

Charlie almost looked physically pained by your reminder of that event, and you felt genuinely sorry for the girl. 

You assumed she was here to find more influential people supporting her dreams, but you knew she was fighting a losing battle. Charlie could, of course, be good at networking-after all, you did not know her that well, but you would rather guess that her dreams of rehabilitating sinners were so ludicrous that no one wanted to listen to her. You would even go so far as to say it was a miracle she had gotten someone like Alastor to help her, and you were dying to find out the bastard motives. 

"I must say, you are very brave in pursuing your ambitions. I know many sinners who, in secret, would be open to the idea of salvation and seek it if they could." It was half a truth and half a lie, your unique skill. You did know many sinners just like yourself, sinners who had done horrible things in self-defence or to protect someone else, and that had landed them a one-way ticket to the burning pits of Hell. But they were not evil souls. They did not thrive in misery or seek to hurt others; in your opinion, they would be the best candidates for the rehabilitation program. The problem was, though, that these sinners, like so many others, believed that they deserved to be in Hell, and that was what kept most of them away from the Hazbin Hotel. 

That, and the hotel's horrendous marketing. 

"Oh, thank you! That's very kind of you," said Charlie, turning more toward you. "I don't think we have met before. I'm Charlie. Morningstar." 

Her last name came out softer and more hesitant than before, and you wondered if the princess was a bit embarrassed by her heritage or if she was just modes. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charlie. I am Monroe; I own the PR agency downtown," answered you using your sinner name. Most demons and sinners used a false and made-up name in Hell, including you. It was easier to detach yourself from your humanity, effectively accepting that you were a sinner, the scum of the afterlife, if one used a pseudonym of sorts. It was easier to live a life in Hell as someone else, the thing that everyone expected you to be, and with a new name, it became more prominent that you were a new "person". 

Only a handful of sinners used their human names in the afterlife, like Alastor, and every single one of them gave you the creeps. 

It was just something so disturbing of a sinner keeping their human name. It was as if they still saw themselves as their human selves or were proud of the lives they had lived. 

Rosie, the overlord of Cannibal Town, was the only sinner who still kept their human name and who you enjoyed spending time with. But that was mostly because she made the second-best cup of tea in all of Pride, after yours, of course.

"I must confess, princess." You leaned over towards Charlie, tilting your head down as you looked up at her, making your eyes look bigger and more innocent than you were. You wanted to create the feeling that your conversation was just for the two of you. A private and personal confession between friends. For that was what you wanted her to see you as, a potential friend. 

"I believe your Hazbin Hotel is Hell's best shot against the exterminations, and I want to help you in any way I can."

"You do?!" Charlie whispered quite loudly back towards you as a childish light danced in her eyes, almost making you regret deceiving her. 

"Yes, I do!" you said, faking excitement. "I think the hotel could really work. I don't know if I can help with the redemption part, but I'm somewhat of an expert in PR, and I think if we could just change the hotel's reputation, sinners would flock to the hotel like bees to honey." 

"But you are a sinner, yourself. Don't you want to be redeemed and go to heaven?"

You looked over at Charlie with genuine surprise. It seemed that you had underestimated her. 

You had assumed that Charlie's excitement would cloud her judgment and not question your involvement in her business, but you had not guessed that she would ask you if you did not want to be redeemed instead.

You inhaled and sighed softly as you closed your eyes. To Charlie, it would look like you were contemplating her question, but in reality, you were quickly thinking of an excuse for why you should be hired and not enrolled in her rehabilitation program.

"One day, maybe I'll be ready for the possibility of being redeemed, but I don't believe that is in the cards for me right now."

"The first step is just to want redemption," said Charlie softly, placing her hand on your arm to comfort. You gave her a genuine smile as you put your own hand over hers. 

The princess was too soft and trusting for her own good.

"The things I have done are not actions that can be redeemed so easily, and I still believe I need to atone for my sins," you lied straight through your teeth. There was not a single atom in your demonic body that believed that what you had done was wrong, and you never would. You had saved New Orleans from a bloodthirsty serial killer, and because of that, you believed that your actions had been justified.

"But let me work for you and help you with your dream. I could begin there, and one day, when I think I'm ready, I will tell you I'll resign, and you can enrol me in your program." 

The only time you would ever consider redemption was after you had killed Alastors demonic body, making sure that his soul would never return. Only when that monster was eradicated from every cosmic plane would you get on your knees and ask the heavens for forgiveness. 

Excited at the prospect of having another sinner join her cause, Charlie happily agreed to hire you as the hotel's PR specialist. And just like that, you had your way into the hotel and its inner workings. 

You and Charlie continued to talk enthusiastically about the hotel and the people who lived there throughout the event. Both of you had decided to move to the balcony that stretched around the whole apartment, looking out over the city. The red night sky was devoid of stars but illuminated by the divine light from the gate to heaven. It was a beautiful mockery of your hellish existence, a constant reminder of your wretched existence. 

While the night sky was starless, the twinkling lights of the city lit up the evening in a colourful display of technology and consumerism. Shouting sinners, car horns, and guns fiering could be heard in the distance. Prids every present ambience. 

Hell was truly beautiful in its own vile ways. 

"And then we have Vaggie; she's my girlfriend and is kind of in charge of the hotel's security. She will probably ask you some questions before you start working, but don't take it personally! We've just had some problems with other sinners before, but nothing serious," rambled Charlie, waving her hands around exuberantly so the content of her glass spilt over. She had not had one sip of the alcohol whilst you were almost finished with yours. 

"Alastor also stays at the hotel, but don't you worry! He has been trying to be helpful, even if his motives for why he is at the hotel are maybe not ... that wonderful." As she talked, you could see that Charlie grew increasingly uncertain when talking about the radio demon, and you wondered if she knew why he was there in the first place. You decided to ask her, making your voice meek, hoping the princess would interpret it as fear for the other demon. 

"Well, he says that he is bored and likes to see souls struggle to accomplish anything meaningful." 

That did sound a lot like the Alastor you had once known. Seems like Hell had not changed him one bit.

"But other than that, he's been pretty harmless!" 

Ha! That almost made you laugh. 

"Actually, I think he's here somewhere," remarked Charlie absentmindedly and turned around to look back into the apartment where everyone was talking more freely because of the alcohol. 

"What?!" you hissed before you could control yourself. Your whole body tensed up like a string on a bow. Charlie had, thankfully, not noticed your drastic change in emotions and continued talking.

"Yeah, he came with me since Vaggie couldn't. He left to talk to someone he knew, I think. I haven't seen him in a while, though."

It felt like your blood was boiling inside you. Every muscle was tense and ready to fight or flee. Your claws dug into the balcony railing, threatening to leave marks. 

"Oh no, wait, there he is!" exclaimed Charlie, calling the demon's name, who had just appeared by the glass door to the apartment. You turned around slowly and, for the first time in ages, came face to face with the monster that haunted your very existence. 

His demonic presence had not changed one bit since the last time you saw him all those years ago. Still the same tall freak with the ever-present grin you hated more than anything. Oh, how you yearned to erase that smile for good. 

His red eyes landed on you, and a shiver travelled up your spine, making your wings tense behind you. His gaze was soft, but there was a sharpness to them that you knew all too well. It was the same calculating gaze you had been so intrigued by and later come to hate. The calculating gaze of a killer. The same gaze that he had unknowingly taught you to make. 

His eyebrow lifted slightly as he looked at you, and you could feel your heartbeat buzzing in your ears. 

"Why, hello! I see that you have met Charlie. The name's Alastor; it's a pleasure to meet you." 

You felt like someone had pulled the rug from underneath you. The bastard did not even remember you!

The chock that incapacitated you took some time to shake off, but it took you long enough for both Charlie and Alastor to give you funny looks. It wasn't until you screamed at yourself in your own head to speak that you were able to croak out a greeting. 

He didn't even remember you.

Hmm, I wonder what consequences will come out of this~

Taglist: @martinys-world @tremendoushearttaco @fairyv-ice @azmosposts

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #sinnerman alastor fic

[unyandere]

Yandere jock x reader who is really into how to kill people with poison and therefore finds training the body useless

Tw: plants (the poisonous ones), mention of killing and murder, curses, yanderish behaviour (both me and you know that’s not the most triggering over here), bad English I guess, reader is… uh… like those little kids who love to tell people how they would be able to kill them in extreme detail for no reason whatsoever

At school you were more or less a loner, no friends, teachers always forgot your name, are your lunch alone,… Yeah, you spent most of your time at school inside the library, reading books about murders and poisons.

Poisonous plants and animals had always been one of your many passions and the librarian, knowing you as well as your mother had known you, always kept some new books about plants and animals for you.

One day as you were reading about the atropine contained inside many plants and its uses you caught the eye of one of the school’s top football players.

At first he came up to you, sat beside you and looked at you while you were reading.

He was hypnotised by your beauty, your elegant movements, your oh so cute shyness,… As he set his eyes on you he decided you two would have some fun together.

“Hey hun~ Wanna… ya know?” He said pointing at one of the doors that lead to a utility room.

You lifted your eyes from the book and looked at him straight in the eyes.

“Getting inside a small room with someone you don’t really know just because of an high libido is one of the most common ways to get killed” you answered looking at him coldly

“And how would you kill me? You don’t look like someone with muscles~ You don’t really look like someone who could beat me up~” he said walking behind you and grabbing one of your arms.

“There are countless ways in which you could get killed without the use of muscles” you answered jerking your arm away.

He got closer to you, he sniffed your hair and touched your neck.

“Reeeally? And how would you kill me?” He said smiling at you, putting his hand under your chin and lifting your face up to him.

“Well I could poison you with berries by putting one berry in my mounts and slipping it into yours during a kiss, I could put some rhododendron leaves in my pocket and scratch your skin as you get close giving you some of the nastiest infections, I could put some hemlock in my hands, cup my hand above your nose, make you breath some hemlock and kill you slowly and painfully,… and these are just some examples of how I could, and would, kill you” you answered briefly.

The jock looked at you in the eyes, for a moment his smile disappeared and he stepped back a little.

But just as soon as you thought he’d finally leave you alone to read, his smile reappeared and he got as close as he was before.

“Well, couldn’t I kill you in just as many ways with my hands?” He whispered in your ear smiling at the thought of you under him asking for help.

“While the answer is yes, you would definitely get in prison for that because of the signs on me and everyone being able to testimony that you were with me at the time of my death making you the prime suspect, while I, killing your with poison, will not become the prime suspect because most poisons take time to start showing their signs and kill people so you would be able to meet more people before dying making them the prime suspect for your death instead of me” you explained crushing his dreams.

The jock smiled at you taking again a little step back.

“I… see” he mumbled trying to keep up his smile and think of something to answer you.

“But what if I… erm… didn’t care about going to jail?” He asked whispering, getting close to you again (to your dismay) and sniffing your beautiful hair thinking of you, scared, doing whatever he asked you.

“Well, you would be quite stupid! Getting to jail is no joke, you will have a much harder time finding a job after you get out of jail!” You answer apathetically.

“Then, why would you risk your carrier to kill me? Am I more important then your future?” He asked again smiling while touching you thinking of you giving up your whole life for him made him quite excited.

“No, I just know I wouldn’t get caught… I know what errors killers usually make, I just have to avoid those and I’ll be able to do whatever I want” you explained again.

You were starting to get on his nerves, if your cute face didn’t make up for it he would’ve already beaten you up.

“I see… And what if I force you to come with me, without killing you, and see me play a game just for you?” He said expecting some more scared response to that.

“I’d ask for a restraining order against you” you answered with a plain pretty apathetic voice.

“Yeah but what if-“ he was going to ask but you got up and walked out of the library leaving him alone.

#yandere x darling #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere #parody

[renmorris]

Regardless of nationality someone talking about police brutality or the anti cop messages in Disco Elysium is bound to get hit with accusations of 'Americanization.' So let’s talk about that.

The narrative shows us heavily armed first world mercenaries and states rather plainly that the difference between them and the RCM are functionally negligible.

While the lack of municipal government and services puts RCM officers in a unique community role (wherein officers may take up first responder duties like firefighting/first aid etc) the fact is that they are funded by the moralintern to protect the interests of the state.

Also: To act like the anti police rhetoric in Disco Elysium is an Americanization of the text imposed on it by American players is to willfully ignore the text itself. And by extension the real world brutality of policing, globally.

Or TLDR everyone talks about the Jean's cup size tweet that Martin Luiga answered and a lot less people bother to read the medium article (a policeman in Revachol) where he talks about the original ttrpg, social murder, the nature of police mentality, and draws comparisons to the violence of American cops during the BLM movement.

TLDR

[baksterly]

“call it fate, call it karma”

part one

18+

part two masterlist

Pairing: GhostFace! Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Summary: Last school year, tests, exams and.. murders are all you think of. But what happens after the killer starts to be interested in you?

A/n: my first fic ahah, I couldn't find ghostface Ellie fanfics that I would like, so I decided to write my own, I tried) The title is based on the song “Call it Fate, Call it Carma” by “Strokes”!

Word count: 4,5k

Warnings: angst, mentions of killing, blood, swearing, stalking, chasing, murdering, (maybe smut, but not in this part), I think that’s all?

Tag list?:

—————————————🔪🩸🔪————————————

It all started at school. The beginning of high school, new acquaintances, for example, Ellie Williams. You met by chance after another rugby match where Ellie played on behalf of your school. You've seen her before, she was quite popular among your classmates. During the game on the field, Ellie was not distracted by anything other than the game itself. Endless training was not in vain, on this day she was in excellent shape, but her rivals were not inferior in speed and agility.

You really loved watching women's sports at your school, a certain excitement woke up in you, and your friends used such events as an excuse to distract themselves from studying for upcoming exams and boring subjects. Your friend Jesse noticed how you immersed yourself in the game and were carefully watching the score and the movement of the players on the field. Your eyes darted back and forth, and sweaty palms lay on your knees, squeezing them nervously. For a couple of seconds, Jesse watched you and looked back at the field, then looked at you again and, approaching your ear, said:

- “Hey, who wins?” a small smile formed on his face, and his gaze was fixed on the field.

- "A? Yes, the score is 3:2 in favor of ours,” you replied without taking your eyes off the hypnotizing game.

Jesse nodded in understanding. In addition to him, there were two more friends with you: Chris and Zoe. They discussed the latest news. Another corpse was found near their area, but the perpetrator was never found. You've already heard rumors about ghostface, but school has been extremely stressful lately and you've had enough stress.

Suddenly, everyone started shouting even more than usual and getting up from their seats, which was logical since your school just won! After a few minutes, the crowd around you began to dissipate. You and your friends got up and went down from the stands, heading for the exit, but for a second you stopped.

- “Damn, where are they, did I leave them?”

- “Y/N, are you okay? Have you lost something?" Zoya asked, noticing your absence and finding you a couple of meters behind them.

- "Y-yes.. I think I left my headph-"

*BAM*

Someone from behind hit you hard and you fell on the asphalt, scratching your knees and palms on the rough surface, which left abrasions for sure.

- “Auch! Oh damn it! ..” you howled in pain, not understanding what had just happened

“Oh shit!- Hey, are you okay?? Take my hand, I'll help.. Damn, I'm sorry..” An unknown person stood in front of you on one knee and held out their hand.

It didn't take long to figure out that it was a player from your high school team, which just froze you and instead of reaching out your hand to her and standing up, you just looked at this girl with a surprised look. Your face lost any depressing look in that same second.

- "Are you okay?" she repeated a little awkwardly.

Suddenly you realized that everyone around was looking at you and your brain turned on sharply.

“Ah, uh, y-yes, I’m fine, thanks,” you said, holding out a soiled and slightly bloody hand

- "Oh, your hands.. You need to go to the infirmary, I'll take it, it's my fault that this happened"

- "No no, everything is fine, it doesn't hurt me at all" you stood up, brushing yourself off and oh.. you blushed

- “Hey Els, is everything okay over there??” a loud voice was heard, a couple of girls from her team stood a few meters from you and waited for a reaction from Ellie

- "Yes, yes, go, I'll catch up with you!" Ellie said, following them with her eyes, “Well, are you going?” she asked, carefully observing the slightest changes in your face

- “Y/N, are you okay?” Jessie asked with Zoe and Chris behind him and his eyes immediately darted to Ellie, his brows furrowed. "I thought you were taught to look around in training" he sarcastically addressed Ellie, who, like him, was not happy with his appearance. Before Ellie could protest or say something you answered:

- "Hey Jess, it's okay, I'm going to the infirmary for now, you can go without me, don't worry, I'll call and come to you right after that!"

Ellie's face brightened dramatically and a small smirk appeared on her lips.

“Well, look, we’ll be waiting for you at the “Radio Station” cafe, okay? Call"

Jesse again looked warily into Ellie's eyes, but decided not to add anything and went to exit

You just quietly nodded and your eyes followed your friends to the very exit, after which they met with the eyes of the culprit of what was happening. At that moment, you realized that you had never seen her so close, so also in uniform .. You had to admit, she looked impressive, her disheveled hair and sweat dripping from her forehead and on her neck, all this gave her some charm. You spent the rest of the way getting to know each other, dedicating each other to the details of the latest events in your life. And something happened that became the point of no return in your future relationship: Ellie became interested in you.

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Almost four years have passed since that strange incident, the last year of high school, endless tests and difficult topics have caused you a headache and a lack of free time for friends. You just remained good friends with Ellie and only crossed paths in the corridors of the school, while saying hello without words every time. It has become a daily routine and you were already used to it. But what haunted you was more and more murders in your city, which occurred in almost the same frequency. On the news, security measures are played non-stop, and at school, on the boards, files with information on security and contacts of special services for emergency cases are attached. All this did not give your mind any rest.

*school bell rings*

out of breath, you packed your things and went to the door of the school, the last lesson was unbearable, the math teacher explained the past topic to consolidate, all you could think about now was only dinner and a good movie to finally get away from the mansions of the bustle, but on the way you were caught by Chris

- “Y/N! Wait a minute! Look, you're coming to the party that James Kalin making tonight? Zoya, Jessie and I haven't seen you in a while, is everything okay?"

briefly thinking you answered:

- "Oh hey Chris sorry I'm afraid I'm going to miss another party..tomorrow is a maths test and you know I'm not good at it" your face dropped as it was the seventh party in a row you've missed.

- “Suddenly I understand ... But you know, if your plans change, we will always be happy to see you!” Her eyebrows rose and her face softened, she patted your shoulder for the last time, and you smiled after her.

Nothing foreshadowed trouble, you went home as usual. Having reached the door, you took out the keys and put them in the well, after which looked around the street behind yourself and around. Sharply discovering that you did not notice anything, except for trees and other plants, bushes and the houses around you, there was no one.

You turned the keys and opened the door and after crossed the threshold, all of a sudden

-"Sup"

From such an unexpected greeting, you literally jumped on the spot and with loud inspiration. Turning around nervously, you saw .. Ellie? Ellie Williams? How did she get here? How did you not hear her?

- "OH MY GOD ELLIE JESUS, FUCKING CHRIST, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU??"

Ellie just giggled. You were even a little alarmed by how calm she remained.

- "Is it possible to scare people like that, at a time when a bloody serial killer kills right and left ?!"

- "Didn’t know that such a big girl like you will be afraid of the serial killers, sorry, my bad" A light and sweet smile appeared on her face. Her eyes gazed you, she was standing on a two-step staircase on the porch of your house, it was far enough to take a look at you, eyes went up and down twice.

Ignoring her comment, you ask:

- "Did you want something?" anxiety appeared in your voice, you carefully examined her, she looked fresh, she was wearing Diesel skinny jeans with torn knees and fraying, a shirt that was unbuttoned enough to reveal a white tank top. In her hands she held a school bomber jacket, which was given to all the players on their team. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to the elbow, which exposed her arms for all to see. But what you often couldn't take your eyes off of was her tattoo. it suits her so well and seemed to just scream "Ellie Williams" with her appearance. You yourself were one of the few people who liked to dress up and fumbled for the latest fashion news, so you had good taste in this subject. You liked the way Ellie dressed, on the one hand her images seemed random, as if she took everything that came to hand and dressed in a hurry, but you knew that this was far from being the case. Her scruffy look was adorned with a mullet, she cut her hair at the beginning of this school year. Damn, when you first saw her at school with a new haircut, you couldn't help yourself and often stared at how it fit her. You were also attracted to the scar on her eyebrow, which gave her more brutality.

Speaking of you, then (and here you are just imagining yourself and what you like to wear and how you want to look, because I'm tired of the reader obsessing over pink, bows and such, so feel like yourself here🫂)

Even at your first meeting, Ellie drew attention to how you dressed, your manner of communication and character kept pace with your appearance. She looked around for the last time and spoke:

- "Didn't anyone give you the news?"

-"No? What's the news?

- "Today, a new murder is predicted, many are asked to stay at home, forensic investigators believe that they figured out how often they happen ahah" Ellie said the last words holding back her laughter and looking at the floor, then she raised her head in anticipation of your reaction

- "Well.. Don't worry, I wasn't going to go out today.." You answered uncertainly, looking at Ellie questioningly and not understanding the motive of her coming.

- "Great, just thought I should warn you." She smiled sweetly at you.

- “Oh, ok, thank you” and at that very moment, the question stuck in your head. “Wait, how do you know where I live?” and as soon as you finish this sentence, Ellie instantly says:

- "Oh shit, I'm sorry, I have to run, a lot of things to do ahah, it was good to see you tho, take care of yourself!" and winking with a smile on her face, she quickly jumped off your porch and headed the other way.

- "Yeah.. me too" you mumbled to yourself, as Ellie had already moved away, and your question hung in the air. For a few seconds you stood on the threshold of the house, trying to understand what just happened, but decided not to attach much importance to it and went into the house closing the door behind you.

The first thing you did was to change into your home clothes, after which you were already in the kitchen preparing dinner, tomato soup and toasted toast was all that was on your mind all day!! While you were cooking, the music was always on. It was unbearable for you to do anything without musical accompaniment, being a music lover can be difficult ..

*main song plays*

~Close the door

not all the way

He don't understand

We don't understand

So don't you wanna remind me

I don't know a thing

And some of us remember

And some run out of place~

A few more tracks later, dinner was ready. No matter how hungry you were, you always took the time to prepare a whole meal, you really enjoyed the process. It calmed and helped to throw out all this unnecessary noise from your thoughts. You could say it was your daily meditation. You've directed Ocean's Eight, and it's not the first time you've watched it.

-"Bon appetit!" You spoke to yourself and began to enjoy your meal.

An hour later, the dishes were already in the sink, and you were resting on the couch, watching the movie.

*notification sound on phone*

You automatically picked up your phone to see who texted you. Your first guess is Jessie or Zoe, who found out about your refusal to come and who decided to try to persuade you to come to them. But to your surprise, it was an unknown number.

anon: “why didn't you go to the party? your friends probably miss you so much.. it's not the best evening to be alone”

your heart skipped a beat and your pulse quickened, you answered without hesitation

You: “who’s that?”

It didn't take long to get another message

anon: “how was your dinner? you look so tiered.. it's not the first time when you bring yourself to this state, you need to sleep more. and I will always be watching you💋”

You: "that's not funny"

You haven't watched the movie anymore, all you thought about was the anonymous person who already sent you the following reply

anon: “oh.. I can smell your fear even from here”

you didn't answer, your heart beats in your chest at a frantic pace, and your breath stuttered, as if this unknown person was standing right behind you. All of a sudden Ellie's words about the impending murder flashed through your head. This was the trigger to immediately text Chris that you were going to them.

You: “Hey Chris, some unknown number is texting me some really creepy stuff and I’m very scared, I’ll be at party in half an hour”

Chris: "What did they text you?? Waiting"

You: "I'll tell you everything when I’ll be at place"

You quickly packed up and ordered a taxi so that you could immediately get into the car and not go on foot. Going to a place where there were a lot of people and your friends seemed to you the safest, rather than sitting alone at home and waiting for a gift of fate. While you were waiting for a taxi, you again entered the correspondence and .. the chat disappeared. Everything that was just on your screen is gone. You didn’t know where to get evidence now to show your friends, for a second it even began to seem to you that you had imagined all this, because you hadn’t had enough sleep for a long time. But the taxi arrived and within 10 minutes you were at the house of James Kalin.

—————————————🔪🩸🔪————————————

You knew each other personally, but never spoke. He seemed like a good person to you, so you were pretty loyal to him, but Jesse was his best friend. They have been friends since childhood, which is why James often crossed paths with you at various events. At the threshold, loud music and the rumble of everyone who was inside could already be heard. After just a couple of seconds, you opened the door and went inside. Eyes immediately began to run around in search of at least one familiar face. You decided it was best not to stand and went to the kitchen. This is where you met the host of the party. James was standing with Jesse and they were laughing very loudly and incessantly at something. You immediately walked towards them and a smile awkwardly appeared on your face. You stepped up from behind Jesse and gently patted his shoulder with your fingers. They both immediately turned their attention to you.

-“Y/N! Chris said that you will not come, what fate are you here? But it doesn’t matter, I’m very glad to see you!” After these words, Jesse hugged you tightly.

-“Aww, thanks Jess, I miss you too. A lot of things happened during this time, so I decided to still be in the circle of my most beloved friends ahaha" you said, patting him on the back, which served as a signal to him, and he let you go. James standing next to you caught your eye

-"Hi James! Long time no see, cool party” you said out loud, leaning slightly in his direction and smiling naively.

He smiled back at you approvingly.

- “Yeah, we haven’t seen each other for a long time, I’m glad to see you here tonight” he held a glass of whiskey with ice in his hand and lifted it as if for you, after which he drank.

- "Okay guys, I'll go look for Chris and Zoe! See you later” you said as you waved goodbye and slowly turn your back to them as they waved back.

-"Ok! Good luck"

The boys were left behind, even after such a small dialogue you became calmer, but returning back to the crowd of drunk people having fun, you again felt uneasy. Inwardly, you just hoped that it was some kind of stupid prank, but you were haunted by personal information that the unknown knew. You didn’t talk to so many people that you didn’t know who it could be, but at the same time you were confident in your friends and didn’t think that any of them were capable of such a thing.

Walking into a large living room where there was a ping-pong table and people were playing strip games, you saw a couch opposite and... Ellie Williams was sitting and manspringing, she had a thick joint in her hand. You could guess that this wasn't her first joint in her time here. Smoke hovered around smoothly moving up and spreading throughout the space. And as if for you, there was an empty seat next to her. You quickened your pace a little and approached Ellie, smiling affably and awkwardly waving her hand. You carefully sat down on the sofa, trying to sit as close to the other side as possible so as not to disturb Ellie, no matter what she was doing. As soon as she saw you, a smirk appeared on her face, she nodded in greeting, taking another puff, her cheeks sunk a little, after which she smoothly removed the joint from her lips and parted her mouth, inhaled sharply, dense milky white smoke appeared only on fraction of a second. She leaned her head back against the back of the couch and placed her arms along either side of it. Once again, smoke came out of her mouth, exhaling it slowly, her lungs contracting and her chest gradually sinking. For a second you thought that you could look at this forever, but catching yourself on this thought, the blood rushed to your cheeks and you blushed.

Ellie pretended not to see anything, pretended to be a fool, but in fact she noticed a long time ago how you sometimes stared at her, came to all her games and sometimes discussed her too loudly with friends who, when they heard her name, rolled their eyes and giggled.

She abruptly interrupted your train of thought.

- "What are the fates here?" she asked, putting the joint to her lips again and sucking in the thick smoke. Eyes, like those of a predator, ran smoothly over your body and stopped at your eyes.

- "Yeah, it got boring and I decided to spend time with friends" you said, leaning into her ear, waiting for her to have any reaction.

- "I don't see anyone but nervous you, where are they?" she asked teasingly, you understood this, but decided to answer in your usual manner:

- “I just came and decided that they would come by themselves, but I’ll wait here for now” you couldn’t help but smile, looking at her “Are you alone?”

- “I was, but now I have you” she said, and then you stood in a stupor, was it a joke? is she laughing at me? from misunderstanding of her intentions, you just laughed, closing your eyes and then looked around. Your eyes focused on Zoe and Chris as they descended the stairs from the second floor.

- “Oh, here are my friends!” you said, looking at your friends, as if at the same time addressing Ellie, who involuntarily turned her head in their direction.

You began to actively wave your hand to get their attention and it worked, Chris raised her hand up to let them know that she sees you and is heading towards you. At that moment, Ellie got up and took the last pull, smoked the joint and then put it out on the ashtray.

- “See ya, y/n” she said as she passed by and you didn’t even have time to answer, as she disappeared into the crowd of people dancing in front of you. Your gaze was torn off by Zoe and Chris, who had already sat down on the sofa next to you. Zoe happily hugged you, as she sat closer, in the middle.

-"y/n!!! I missed you so much .. you can’t even imagine .. Chris said that something happened to you, we were very worried, but we didn’t understand anything”

-"Hii!! Yes, my studies swallowed me up.. You probably won't believe me, I was texted by an unfamiliar number and.. I don't know, the message was very strange. Something about me skipping a party and my friends missing me and-"

You did not have time to finish, as Chris interrupted you:

-"Something? Can we just open your chat? I wonder if it will be possible to find this person by number or something” And then they saw the sharp disappointment on your face.

- “The chat, it just .. it just disappeared! I didn’t delete it, I didn’t do anything at all!” Chris and Zoe looked at each other, then directed their questioning glances at you.

-“This is very strange.. Are you sure? Maybe I accidentally clicked somewhere?”

-“No, I'm sure. I wrote to you and wanted to re-enter the chat, but it was gone.”

The girls were lost in thought and after a few seconds Zoe asked:

-“What did this anonymous person want from you? Were there threats?”

You shook your head.

- “No, but they told me that today is not the best evening to be alone and about the fact that I look tired and .. asked how I had dinner? as if this person was spying on me all this time and not the first day .."

Chris and Zoya looked at each other again, but with more anxious faces, without thinking twice, Chris said:

- “Okay, we can’t know for sure right now, maybe it was random information and this is spam? You know, I've heard they're doing really weird mailing lists these days to just scare people. It is very strange, of course, that such specific and personal things have been written to you, but so far we cannot confirm anything. The main thing is that you are with us now and not alone, we will by no means leave you ”to this conclusion, Zaya actively nodded her head and took your cold hand in her palm.

-“Yes, y/n, you are with us, this is the most important thing now, I suggest you go and have a drink with us, what do you think? you need to relax a little"

Your eyes filled with hope and in that moment you felt safe. And really, what can happen now? As if today this “GhostFace” could actually kill someone, what a stupidity, you thought to yourself. You and the girls got up and walked towards James and Jessie, who were still in the same spot where you met them. They poured you sweet blueberry cider, your favourite. It was easy to drink and quickly relaxed you. You discussed what was sore and you let go of the situation as much as possible, it seemed to you that all the excitement was over.

*ringing on your phone*

At least until this call.

You quite calmly pressed the green button on the screen, moving a little away from everyone so as not to interrupt friend’s conversation.

-"Hello?" your voice sounded cheerful, you were still giggling a little at the last joke Jesse told.

- "Good evening, sorry for the late call, this is the Jackson police, are you currently at the address where you are registered?"

- “Eh.. No? No, I'm not at home right now, no, did something happen?” your voice abruptly became intermittent, and your heart began to beat with renewed vigor, the music in the background began to blur and subside, and the voice in the receiver .. no, every rustle began to be heard, all your attention was focused on the voice from the phone, the phone that you already pressed to your ear with force so as not to miss anything.

-“A murdered person was found at the threshold of your house.. the murder was committed about an hour ago, your neighbors called the police, we need you to identify the body, when can you come?”

- “What? ... murder? ..” for a second it seemed to you that the earth had left under your feet, and your breath was taken away.

-“Yeah, when can you be there?.. can you hear me?… mam?….” the voice on the phone became uncertain, but you no longer heard anything, as if the ringing pierced your ears. Only a voice behind you pulled you out of an incomprehensible trance.

-“Hey, is everything okay? y/n??..”

You turned around to see how all your friends were no longer laughing merrily, but were looking at your pale face. Chris took your shoulder with one hand and your eyes lifted to look into her face.

-“Someone was killed at the threshold of my house, I need to go there urgently”

As soon as you uttered these words, no one moved from their place, this information was impossible to digest so quickly, everyone stood in shock.

- "Let's ask all the questions later" you warned in advance, guessing what the others might think, "I need to go home right now." your speech was as if emotionless and restrained.

And along with that, the next thing you did was go to crime scene, not knowing what was going to happen next..

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a/n: hiiii, I did my best to start this fic, hope it’s not that bad and some of you might like it 😮‍💨🫶🏻 kisses!!

part two

#ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie williams #ghostface #ghostface!elliewilliams #ghostface!ellie #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #scream

[andsoigotabutterfly]

Scream

Tara Carpenter x fem!gf!Reader

summary: Your obsession over Tara makes you snap at one of your teammates and former bully. Sweet revenge...

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, murder, harsh language

word count: 4.4k

a.n: This was inpired by 'Scream' from Dreamcatcher, a k-pop band. Make sure to check it out! I also only planed this to be a oneshot, but I might be tempted to make more parts to it. Let me know what you think!

pairings: tara carpenter x reader, platonic!amber freeman x reader

English isn't my native language, but I tried my best as always!

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You’ve become the best player on the school’s rugby team. Everybody treated you with respect and nobody dared cross your path. This didn’t use to be this way. When you first arrived at Woodsboro high, you were bullied and pushed around like a piece of meat by the people, that now, fear you on the field. Their leader was Katia, middle heighted, hot-headed girl. They considered themselves better, for they were good at what they did yet you didn’t excel at anything really. They picked on you for your constant humming of the same lullaby, weird habits and for you not having any friends. You weren’t a bad student your grades were average, and the teachers liked you. You just weren’t exceedingly good at what you liked. It didn’t help that you were silent most of the time either, except for your humming. Never speaking much, always keeping your thoughts to yourself.

After a year, you decided to try out what they were doing, and you immediately outmatched all of them in it. The moment you stepped on the field, it was as if you had been replaced by a superior, more powerful, and robust version of you. You just couldn’t be stopped.

For this you quickly became a core member of the school’s rugby team. With your lead you won price after price, demolishing anyone who would dare stand out against you. It felt unfair, yet glorious. Your old bullies reconciled with you, trying to make you like them, but you pushed them away. Their actions and behaviour disgusted you, yet you needed to tolerate them. They were pretty good at what they did during matches.

Beside the bullies disappearing, your social life changed too. You made some new friends and joined their group. Without realizing it at first, you’ve become obsessed with one of them very quickly. Tara was her name. Just thinking it made you have goosebumps. Her eyes were captivating, her movements were perfect, her existence was a bliss. Her laugh would melt you and give you energy throughout the day. You watched her in classes, only taking her eyes off her if someone pointed it out, or she noticed. Being in her presence always made you calm and at peace. Yet it has also awoke something inside you. You’ve always felt it, but now it was intensified by her. It was this great rage, buried deep inside of you. You could feel it growing, devouring you whenever someone made her discomfortable even the slightest. Whenever someone pushed against her in the corridor. Whenever someone touched what was yours.

To your fortune, you two started hanging out even outside of school. You held movie nights almost daily, which didn’t cause any problems, because both of basically lived alone. Your parents died in a car accident, whilst your uncle, your new guard was either on drugs, or was drunk all the time. Her family was a bit more complicated story.

“Don’t tell me you have never seen Stab…” she said in disbelief one night. “You at least know what it’s about… right?”

“Of course! Masked killer starts stabbing. Hence the title. The directors could have been a little more creative don’t you think?” you asked sarcastically.

Tara’s mouth was wide open. When her shock wore of, she put the first one on, not giving you the chance to protest. You started to watch it, not having real high expectations for it. You couldn’t have been more wrong. Just after the first kill, you were glued to the screen. It just felt alive. The murders were brutal, gory, and fulfilling. It tingled and sated that side of you, you didn’t really get to know yet. Every second of it was perfect. It reminded you of her. You were so immersed by the movie, you didn’t notice that she was looking at you the whole time, her mood only changing with yours. When the end credits rolled you looked at her and said, “Looks like we are having a marathon tonight.”

After you saw the movies, you got obsessed with them. Not long after, you bought the mask, the robe, and the knife to have the complete set. You didn’t plan on showing it to her but caved the moment she set foot at your place. She looked happy, that she made a fan out of you.

Your friendship hit an all-time high. You two were always seen together, never one, without the other. Your friends were fuming over how oblivious the two of you were, betting over when you two finally admit your feelings for another. At first it was meant to be fun, but when their purses started to deplete, they got more and more inpatient.

Tara started attending your rugby practices not long after, which always made you have butterflies in your stomach. On a sunny Tuesday, whilst having dinner together, you discovered from Chad that she herself is playing rugby too. Just not in school.

“You’re kidding…” you said in disbelief.

“Nope” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “She isn’t just playing. She is good at it. Might I say even better than you, my dear darling!”

For that last part you gave him a look that got him to shut up quick.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you turned to her, asking curiously.

“I… don’t really know. I guess it just never came up?” she answered shyly.

“And you say she’s good?”

Before he could answer, she asked back. “You question his statement?”

Careful. You thought to yourself. “Well, you don’t seem like the type that…” Idiot!

“Let me show you on the field just what type I am to you…” she said, her voice filled with dismay.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Tara.”

“Too late Miss L/N…”

“Oh, you’ve done it. She is using last names…” Chad said, sinking back in his chair, wishing to be anywhere not here.

“On the field. Tomorrow at your practice” Tara said with finality.

“I’m looking forward to this” you said with a chuckle.

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

That night you were so excited for the next day, you couldn't sleep. The thought of Tara and you being together on the field made you happy and giddy. This mood got the better of you, and Amber was the one that would take the worst of it. She was your go to in everything. You knew you trust her with everything, so you did. When your obsession with Tara started, she didn’t judge you for it, even encouraged you. Right now, she wished she didn’t do it. You were texting her non-stop about her, disrupting her sleep. She groaned loudly into her pillow as the sounds of your texts going off sieged her ears. Yet, she didn’t have the heart to turn you down, and to ignore you. So, she started writing back.

As you rented about what tactics you will use and told her how you will maybe let her win, she wrote back an occasional “yes”, or “That shit will WORK”. You didn’t comprehend how much time has passed as you talked with each other while you were humming your usual lullaby. Finally, you noticed your surroundings getting brighter. As your tired mind finally recognized what this meant, you facepalmed yourself so hard your head hit the wall, making you groan out loud. You looked at the time and realized that you didn’t just not have time to sleep but would need to hurry to not be late from school. You quickly got ready, making a hot cup of coffee, and after chugging it down, you started sprinting, your bag bouncing of your back.

The streets were filled with jack o’ lanterns, as it was the end of October. Tomorrow would be Halloween, which got the city exited, decorating the whole place with Ghostface masks and paper knives. You saw some bats and spiders here and there, but the main decoration everywhere, was the legacy of Woodsboro.

You got to school just in time. You swept through the halls decorated in Halloween theme, making it to your destination just as the teacher closed the door behind him. Damned hour zero. you thought as you grabbed the door and sneaked into the classroom. The teacher had his back towards you, so you quietly pulled the door towards yourself wishing it would shut by itself and started slowly but surely making your way beside Tara’s side.

“Miss L/N would you mind please closing the door behind you?” Mr. Darsney asked with a condescending tone. For a moment you stooped even lover, then straightened your posture and went back to the door to close it. Loud. The class was giggling, Tara’s face shining brighter than the sun itself. You felt yourself get mesmerized by her. “Not only are you late, Miss L/N, but to you standing there, beside the door, watching somebody very curiously is more important to you than to sprint to the desk to run through your notes in case of a surprise test? Now that’s bold… Bold enough to assume you are overly prepared for it.”

You tried walking to your place but was cut off by him once more. “No, Miss L/N, please come out here, and tell me how you would solve this quadradic equation…” You turned towards the numbers he wrote on the table and shot lightnings at him with your eyes. There was no way in hell you could solve this in this state of mind, and he knew it, wide grin on his face.

After a few more questions, he let you sit down, a new ‘F’ decorating your grade book. You were fuming there beside Tara, imagining different and more creative ways to end Darsney’s life. Some of them you quite liked. Still, your favourite was running your knife through him over and over and over and over again. What am I thinking? It was the rage. Must have been the rage.

“You, okay?” Tara asked you, as you slumped down next to her.

“I’m alright” you said, as you sighed deeply.

After class, you and Tara went to the yard, to the place where you and your friends would always sit and talk. They all pour in one by one, Amber being the last one. Her expression is plain dead, as if she was dragged out of a coffin just moments ago.

“Well, you look like hell” you teased her. She gave you such a dark look, you immediately shut up. Her gaze stayed on you for a couple more moments, making you feel small, but would eventually dissipate. “Wanna watch the big showdown between me and Tara?”

“I’d rather not talk about that now…” she managed to say out. The tiredness in her voice made you feel sorry for her. She lived almost as far away as you from school, if not farther.

Yet, hours later, she showed up to the practice, taking her usual space, next to the field. You arrived a little late. The others already began the practice. Today the coach called in sick, so you were left to do what you thought was best for yourselves. As you approached the others, you spotted Tara already being around them, making lightning quick moves with the ball. What she lacked in strength and height she made up for in speed and agility. You couldn’t be more amazed.

After watching the game unfold for almost five minutes, they spotted you and started making teams. You let them know you and Tara wanted to be on opposite sides, which they gladly accepted. No one would have a chance if you two were put together.

As you lined up before each other, Tara threw you a wide grin. You leaned into position; your face close to hers. She looked at you, then pouted, playing the weak little girl. “Please, don’t make me scream. I don’t want to!”

“Oh, but I would love to hear that! Preferably somewhere else…” you answered, mimicking her smile.

“Keep it in your pants Y/N” she said, leaning even closer. “Not while they are watching…” she whispered in your ear, making you have goosebumps. You felt lightheaded and hazy. Her smirk told you that she noticed your state of mind. She leaned in close once again. “Who knows” she started whispering again. “Maybe I’ll let you hear them afterwards…”

She leaned back before you could do anything, then signalled for the match to start. As the whistle’s sound cut through the air, you threw yourself into the area where the ball would fall, Tara in your tracks. You watched the sky as the ball descended right into… Tara’s hands. Somehow, she ran around you and snatched the ball away from you. As soon as she did that, she started sprinting towards the goal, but was caught by one of Katia’s friends, Delilah. As they smashed together Tara fell back on the ground making you shout at her. As you realized you couldn’t be angry at your own teammate you found an excuse for your anger, told a few instructions then went back to playing the game. Focus Y/N. Focus you thought to yourself.

The end of the match was nearing, and the score was tied. With a few more of your outbursts, your team wasn’t really in the mood to stop Tara once she got the ball. But you needed the win and tensions were high. Then, when the timer was nearing zero, Tara got the ball again. You chased after her, taking everything you had to catch up, still failing. Then she bounced back from something, hitting the floor hard, making her scream out in pain.

You stopped, blood boiling in your veins as you looked up at the woman who stood above Tara. It was Katia, sweat dripping down her face. Something in you snapped, suddenly seeing every little detail in the field. In just a moment you decided against gutting Katia right in front of everyone. You strengthened your posture and went to Tara to help her up. Even with your senses getting better than ever, you didn’t see the knowing look she gave you.

With Tara not being able to play because of her sprained ankle, the match ended in a win, making your team cheer on you and each other. While the other team was sulking, Tara was only watching you. Your iron gaze, that never left Katia, watching her every move, eyeing her up for something. Then you excused yourself, making your way to the change rooms. Amber threw you a worried look too, but you ignored it as you stormed away.

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. These were the only words that were on your mind. Her scream echoed through your head again, and again, making your newly found rage and anger boiling up more and more inside you. Dead woman walking. Let me hear her scream! Let me see her insides! You couldn’t think straight. Your hatred took you over, made you turn, all barriers gone. You weren’t just going to let these thoughts be. You were going to act on them. Even the timing was perfect. Now you were free from your own restraints. Now you felt powerful. Now you could do anything. And she was going to pay.

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

There was a party that night at Katia’s, which you now excused yourself from. You also cancelled a movie night with Tara, saying you don’t feel so good. Then you took the robe out from the closet, and just looked at it for a while. You closed your eyes and saw what you would do in it. The feeling you felt from it was glorious. You put it in a bag and put the mask and the knife beside it. You also brought your uncle’s old Nokia with you, so you couldn’t be traced back. You wanted to mimic the original. It was the least you could do if you used their robes.

You left the house in a black t-shirt and jeans, walking towards Katie’s house, which was not far from yours. Costumed people were stumbling in and out of the house’s door. You realized you could have just come as Ghostface and still wouldn’t be suspicious. So, you hid behind a wall, and started to change. Lastly you put on the mask, with a careful and slow move. You hid the knife in your robes and walked to the house.

As people noticed you, they complimented your costume, saying it looked very real. Of course, it looks real. It wasn’t just bought from any site. You fumed at their ignorance. You were reminded, that when the robe arrived its hands were… bad. You needed to cut them down and sew back what you made from the material. You were proud of your work, and it felt good that people complimented it. Even though they knew nothing of what it took to make it stand out.

The house would have looked homely if it weren’t for the beer cups and liquid that were spurred around the rooms. Some music was banging in the background making you sick to the stomach. You call this music? Oh, you wanted to carve up the DJ too. Maybe you would.

Your eyes scanned the place, looking for Katia. You found her, heading downstairs after somebody. Perfect. You followed her, making sure to close the door of the basement behind you, leaving no escape route. You slowly started making your way down the stairs, taking joy in every step that got you closer to your prey. You looked around the room, finding a curtain to hide behind, next to some boxes. Then, you froze down.

She was talking with a girl; you wish you hadn’t seen here. Tara was cornered by her, covering shyly back from the other woman. Your breath slowed, and your vision went red.

Tara was worried about you calling sick but didn’t mention it. To Chad’s encouragement she attended Katie’s party but regretted it the moment she realized you wouldn’t be there. After she got there dressed as a pirate, she regretted it even more. People were too crowded, and Katie’s band wouldn’t leave her alone, either telling her how great she was, or mocking her with ridiculous reasons. When she heard them talking you out, she couldn’t take it and made her way outside for some fresh air. She found a mass outside too; she went downstairs to finally be alone. Even that didn’t go as planned. She missed your company. She missed your voice. She missed your touch.

Then, Katia showed up, and made it worse. How could she make something this bad even worse?

“You know, I never apologized for how I knocked you up” she started, not sounding genuine. “So, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“No problem” Tara said, standing up and trying to make it past her, but Katia moved so she couldn’t. She shot her a questioning glare but was met by a sudden closeness from the other woman, who was now in her face, making Tara stumble back, hitting the wall.

“You were pretty impressive on practice today” Katia started again, with a deeper voice as she moved even closer. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you…”

“Thanks?” Tara said, questioningly.

“You know, I can feel your gaze on me too. In classes, in the corridors of the school, at practice” Katia said, tucking at Tara’s shirt. “Some would say it’s creepy bu-“ she was cut of by her ringing phone.

She stepped back, taking her phone out of her back pocket with a frown. She didn’t know the number so she hang up. As she started to put it away, it rang again. Confused, she put it down again, only for it to start over. Tara felt relived a little, trying to inch out of the other woman’s periphery. When Katia hung up again there was a beat of silence. Until Tara’s phone rang. The two women looked at each other, fear evident in their eyes, then Tara picked up.

“Hello?” she all but asked, her voice trembling. She wasn’t sure who to fear more, the woman in front of her, or the human across the line. When she heard that voice, she was certain it was the later.

“Hello Tara” Ghostface said. “Could you pull Katia to the line? I would really love to talk with her. Oh, and don’t worry. All you need to do is watch…”

“Who is it?” Katia asked, as she saw Tara turn pale, all blood escaping her face.

“I- It’s for you” she managed to mutter out as she held the phone towards her. Katia took it and immediately spoke.

“Listen here you little cree-“

“No, you listen bitch! Didn’t your parents teach you manners?! When the phone rings, you answer it.”

“So, you were the one who was ringing me non-stop?” she asked with a shaken voice, taken off-guard by your voice’s rawness.

“Indeed, I was. Now, I’m going to be nice and give you a chance…” No not really you thought as your smile only grew bigger.

“A chance to what?”

“To make it out alive from this cold, rigid basement” you rolled your eyes.

She looked around, walking straight towards the stairs as she hung up. You ripped of your cover from before you, stopping her in her steps. You tilted your head, as you studied her, frightened, horrified face.

“Manners, maketh, man” you said, emphasising every word. You took the knife out, turning sideways towards her. “I’m disappointed that you acted so rashly. Now, I need to skip over the little game we would have had, and I hate to skip over things!”

“Wha- What do you want?” she asked, backing away from you. Just seeing her like this made everything worth it.

“It’s pretty simple” you answered her, stepping slowly closer. Tara was to your right, the stairs to the left, knife in your right hand. You shook it a little, to sharpen the tension in Katia. As you did, she hit the wall, stumbling off it. In a moment, you were on her, gripping her neck tightly. “I just want to her you scream!”

As you said the words, you plunged the knife into her stomach, turning it to make it more painful. The cries she let out were music to your ears, everything else fading in the background. You pulled out, then stabbed her twice in the chest, making her writhe under your unclenching fingers. Warm blood was dripping down your hand, and it made you feel good.

You let her fall to the ground, as her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. As she coughed, she held one of her hands up, trying to stop you. “Do you know who my fathe- Argh!” you didn’t let her finish that sentence, kicking one of her new wounds.

“Sorry, somehow, I’m just not worried about deputy James” you told her. You didn’t even notice that Tara wasn’t beside you anymore as she disappeared in the background, slowly making her way up the stairs. Her ankle hurt like hell, so she tried her best to hold back her whimpers. Her heart was pounding in her chest, yet she wasn’t scared. She felt that something was off with this Ghostface.

You started humming as you placed yourself on top of Katia, pressing one of your knees into her wounds, kicking the other one, so it would break. That finally got her to scream out in pain. A chill ran up your spine at the sound. It felt majestic.

Next to Katia’s screams, there was a new sound in the room, that made Tara stop trying to pry the door open. She looked down the stairs, eyes wide. She would recognize that humming anywhere. Your humming. Was this reality or was she dreaming? Why did she feel even less sympathy for Katia now, that she knew who was behind the mask. Without thinking straight, she started stepping back down the stairs.

As Katia squirmed under you, you felt more fulfilled than ever. You made every cut, every stab, every hit with total consciousness. Blood was covering the woman, making her eyes red, as her tears mixed with the crimson liquid. You let yourself enjoy what you did, making no lethal cuts. You also tried to make sure she was wake long enough to feel every single one of them. As your tunes came to an end, you leaned over to her face, gripping her hair to hold her back. “Now you know what happens when you touch what’s mine” you said, then dived your knife into her neck, just beside the chin. She arched up one last time, then fell back, not moving anymore. You took the knife out of her neck, swiping the blood of from it. Then you looked back up.

Tara was leaning against the staircase’s frame, watching you with wide eyes. Her posture didn’t show any sign of discomfort or fear, admiration showing on her face. As you stood up, she mimicked you, then she took a step towards you. Then another. When she was close enough, she reached out for your mask, leaving you time to move back, but you didn’t. As she grabbed it and took it off, she let out a sigh.

“Tara…” you started, but were cut of by her lips on yours, as she leaned up to kiss you. It was hot, messy, and perfect. Her lips felt so soft, you could get high from them. Your knife dropped to the floor, but neither of you paid attention to it. You let her tongue pass into your mouth, which she did without hesitation. As you took her deeper, she pressed her body into you, turning yours on fire. She exhaled through her nose, then pulled away so that she could take a breath.

“That, was hot” she said, eyeing you. You couldn’t answer her, still trying to comprehend what just happened. “All this for me?” she asked, as she grinned at you.

“Everything for you…” you blared out immediately. “I would do anything for you. I would drown the world in blood before anyone could take you from me.”

When you finished, she kissed you again deeply. It didn’t take much time for you to turn the party into a make out session. “Take me” she whispered into your ear. “Let me scream for you.” Your mind went blank at those words, and you did what she asked of you. Tara felt in heaven as you made her feel better than ever. She looked down at Katia’s fresh dead body, relief flooding through her, making the sensations even better. She was laying with her killer, and it made everything just right.

#my stuff #scream fanfic #scream fanfiction #scream #Tara Carpenter #Amber Freeman #Tara Carpenter x reader #Tara Carpenter x you #platonic!amber freeman x you #fanfiction #tara x reader #ghostface!reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #Spotify

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part VII

Word count: 15,641

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

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

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

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

bX nods at him. “What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then the rest of his eyes open up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Atlas exhales slowly. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Papa Al tilts his head. “Is dat so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that’s that.

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

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

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

~*~

“What? That’s it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

Several days come and go, with no news.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just has to be patient.

~*~

Days turn into weeks.

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

Weeks turn into months.

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.” Bravo swallows. “Uh. Thanks?”

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

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

Business as usual at Hels Tek.

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lights in the lab are already on.

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

“Hey, everybody.”

That’s a new voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I let myself in,” Patho says casually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bravo quirks a brow. “Yeah?”

“Patho is that player.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eager nods from the scientists as they scribble down notes.

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

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

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

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

There are surprised and agreeable little murmurs from the scientists.

“Oh, genius-”

“Of course!”

“-yes, I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that’s not concerning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wakes up on the floor of his bedroom.

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

Bravo was slain by Patho.

What the hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s… almost comforting.

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

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

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

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

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

The only chance he’s got.

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bravo exhales through his nose. “Wonderful.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bravo frowns. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lab door flings open with a metallic clunk.

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

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

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

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

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

Clear stares dimly at them. “Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

So. Here they are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

“Alright, I’m standin’,” Bravo huffs.

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

Enthusiastic nods from the sidelines.

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

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

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

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

“Amazing!”

“I can’t believe-”

“Did you see that?”

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

One day, they wake up to find Patho gone.

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

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

Good riddance.

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

“Hit the deck!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I was just-”

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

Bravo stops pacing. “What?”

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

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

“For who?” Clear asks absently.

“For blaze!”

“What blaze?” 

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

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

Bravo pauses. “... still? I… huh.”

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

That’s… suspicious.

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He lifts his pickaxe.

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

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

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

“Well, well, well.”

Bravo whirls around, swapping his pickaxe for his sword.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bravo hesitates. “I don’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

Except…

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m in.”

~*~

Bravo stares at the portal in shocked silence.

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

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

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

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

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

Atlas nods. “Alright, shut it off.”

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

“Now.”

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

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

“Right. Sorry, sir,” Tyrannicide mutters.

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

Bravo nods. “Yeah, I know.”

~*~

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

Bravo exhales slowly. “Yeah.”

“Have everything?”

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

“Remember the plan?”

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

“Good. Said your goodbyes?”

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

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

“Not helping.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

“-seven… six-”

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

“- five…”

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

“... four… three-”

“-wait to get out of here.”

“- two…” 

Atlas hums. “About time, isn’t it?”

“... one.”

“You’re telling me,” Bravo breathes.

“Initiate.”

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

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

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

Bravo takes a deep breath and steps into the portal.

~*~

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

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

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

It’s beautiful.

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

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

Bravo has joined the game.

~*~

#life series smp #traffic smp #hels to pay au #HTP fic #hels hermits #my writing #bravo's theme song for this chapter is 'sharks' by imagine dragons #so u can imagine (hah) he's in for a bad time

[lifesteal-headcanons]

i love the idea of the lifestealers being a very infamous and distinctive bunch of people in the wider minecraft canon universe: among the many other SMPs, hardcore solo players, creative world builders, ancient hypixel masters, and whatnot, the lifestealers are uniquely unhinged in that they will have the most complicated histories of layered betrayal & mass murder & abandonment & permadeath & marriage & complex polyamorous divorce within themselves, and yet they’ve formed a sort of deep pack bond with each other that exists on a whole unique layer of human relationships and really shows itself when they try to mingle with people from other servers.

like, they’ll participate in an inter-server tournament event with speedrunners and vault hunters and other c!minecrafters who are friends with each other in normal ways such as “we lived close by for a while and shared resources” and then you check the relationship status between two lifestealers and they’ve got convoluted painful queerplatonic history beyond one’s wildest imagination. “who’s that guy on the opposing team you’re cheering for?” “oh just my good friend :]” and the “good friends” in question have previously murdered all their allies together and fallen in love and killed each other and not spoken for two years then moved in together with a pet camel or whatever. idfk. the lifestealers destroy their competition then go back home to continue cooking the worst relationship charts of all time.

the lifestealers would come across to many others as deeply abnormal, especially in longer-term interactions. they’re casually violent and deceptive and used to instability in ways that make them hilariously incompatible with other people. imagine inviting a guest over to your homely neighborhood and they remove the floorboards of every house they enter to check for death traps like it’s just social norm. they pocket 2/3 of your gold and diamonds and also your cobwebs for some reason. their everyday movements like running and striking hold an unnerving efficiency. they don’t really know how to fly. they have zero design sense. they shamelessly won’t engage in long conversation unless something materially valuable is involved. you’re kind of scared they’ll do permanent damage to your current home but the implication that there exists a server society in which all these people get together and act like this and it’s normal to them is the most terrifying thing of all

.

#ask #headcanon #lifesteal smp #nix’s faves

[yanderes-galore]

Can you write a yandere concept for Bubba Sawyer (DBD)? I’m a bit surprised this hasn’t been requested earlier

Oh! I'd love to :) Here's my thoughts!

Yandere! Leatherface/Bubba Sawyer Concept

(Dead By Daylight)

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Delusional behavior, Attempted kidnapping, Violence/Murder, Clingy behavior, Breaking bones mention, Stalking, Forced companionship.

Bubba, according to the small amount of lore we're given, is a very emotionally driven character.

He entered the fog essentially after watching his family fall apart.

He follows The Entity's orders because he's scared and doesn't wish to disappoint.

That doesn't change the fact that he's a ruthless killer though.

However, I feel he's easily manipulated.

When Bubba grows attached to a survivor he'd seem them as family to appease.

He has a childish mindset, so "family" could mean anything from sibling or partner.

Either way he'd definitely be attached in that way.

Maybe he feels comfort with you in particular?

Something about you is warm and soft, drawing him in?

Something caring that he finds himself wanting?

He's definitely attached to someone who is considerate and caring towards those around them.

Like a team player or empathetic person due to his personality.

You'll notice his attempts at hunting falter around you.

In fact he often stares in what appears to be awestruck shock at you.

Any change of feelings catches you off guard.

You'll know things have fully changed in a match when you're the last one left and are quickly cornered by the killer.

Instead of dying, however....

He just picks you up, making some oddly content noises, before squeezing tighter.

You can tell it's a hug and are just in shock as the fearsome killer cuddles you like a teddy bear.

Bubba then reluctantly allows you to leave.

Yet that's not the end of his obsession....

Now you know Bubba has a strange attachment to you.

But you aren't sure what to do with it?

When in trials with him you try to relax yourself.

You do gens and notice he hunts those around you.

Yet you find him wandering over to you at times like he's checking on you?

He doesn't try to hurt you at this point.

If anything he watches you repair generators, occasionally reach out to touch your head/hair in curiosity.

For the most part he leaves you alone or expects attention.

It's odd but you use it to your advantage.

Fellow survivors aren't so lucky.

Other survivors are considered threats to his family.

That means he must get rid of them.

He'll be as messy as he wants to be while doing it, too.

It's like The Entity gives you to Bubba as some sort of treat.

He's done well and listened obediently, so he gets his favorite survivor.

You may even try to spare your fellow survivors by hunting Bubba down to distract him.

Said killer is ecstatic that you came to see him.

There's times you can keep him so distracted with paying attention to him the other survivors can do generators.

Bubba is somewhat easy to deal with at the beginning of his obsession.

Yet soon... he'll be tired of others having you.

Soon, he gets rid of everyone in the trial except you.

Then, he tries to trick you into basement.

In true basement Bubba fashion he'd try to keep you in the basement for as long as he can.

If he has to... he slams his mallet into your legs to limit your movement.

He hates hurting you as family... but he can't let you leave!

He just wants to hold you close and feel comforted in your presence.

You may struggle... yet he doesn't care.

In his eyes you're all he ever needs.

He hates to share.

Of course... Bubba can't keep you forever.

The Entity will eventually steal you away again.

It devastates Bubba when it happens...

But what's stopping him from doing this every trial he has you in?

#yandere dead by daylight #yandere dbd #yandere bubba sawyer #yandere leatherface

[danikamariewrites]

Hello!! If you are still taking requests I would love to request an Ithan X reader where they watch scary movies together (and maybe one or both are low key freaked out)! The Halloween season has got me watching so scary movies but now I’m freaking out a little when I try to sleep 😭😭 BUT that was random and I just wanted to say that you write Ithan so well (and all of the other SJM characters) and i would love to see more of your fics no matter what they look like!

Scream

Ithan x Reader

A/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!!!! I hope you all get to eat candy today and watch scary movies 🧡🖤🎃 And thank you sm anon 💕

Warnings: jump scare (not rlly lol), weapons, fluff, allusions to sex

You loved watching Ithan interact with kids on the Autumn Solstice, better known as Hallows Eve. He was always the fun one when handing out candy to the trick-or-treaters. And when kids dressed as Sunball players noticed him their faces lit up and he was always so kind to them.

Leaning over the back of the couch you rested you cheek on your fist. Ithan set the candy bowl down as he made his way back to the couch. Placing a kiss on your head he flopped back down next to you. Resting his arm around your shoulders Ithan pulled into his side as you clicked play on the horror movie you were watching.

This one was your pick. It was a cheesy, animated movie from when you were a kid. You picked this one to recover from the clown thriller Ithan chose.

You two decided to stay in tonight for a scary movie marathon. It had been a long week so any parties seemed unattractive to you. Besides, someone had to hand out candy at the house and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Flynn.

Once the movie ended Ithan picked up the remote to scroll through the other spooky picks. “Oh I love this one.” He clicked one of many serial killer options. You groaned, hiding your face in his neck. “Another murder psycho? Haven’t you had enough murder for the rest of your life?”

Ithan let out a small chuckle, pulling you on to his lap. “It’s a good movie. And if you get get scared again you can look away.” “Can I hide in your hoodie?” “Always baby.” Ithan left a long, loving kiss on your head.

Halfway through the movie you just couldn’t watch anymore. It was far too gory but you didn’t want to shut it off. You liked cuddling your boyfriend too much. You finally heard the end credits and lifted your head from him.

“Hey we haven’t had any trick-or-treaters.” Ithan let out a hum, “You think Hallows Eve is over already?” Your hand finds its way under his shirt, stroking his chiseled abs. He looks down at you with a smirk on his face. “Should we…go upstairs? Maybe you can put that mask on, hhmm?” Ithan brings his lips to meet yours in a slow, languid kiss.

Opening your eyes to break apart you catch movement outside one of the windows by the TV. placing a hand on Ithan’s chest you push back. He gives you a questioning look following your stare to the window. “What is it y/n?” “I thought I saw…”

Suddenly a person in a mask holding up a knife flung himself against the window. You let out a piercing scream as Ithan throws himself in front of you. He fumbles around for the hidden gun under the coffee table. Before he can grab it the person rips of the mask and starts laughing.

“FLYNN! What the fuck man, not cool.” Flynn is cackling to himself, wiping at the tears in his eyes. “Sorry, I had to.” Dec comes up next to him and punches his arm. “Ow!” “I told you not to do that you ass.”

Ithan looks back at your anxious face that you’re trying to calm. You meet his gaze and instantly relaxed. “Can we go upstairs now?” “Of course baby.” He scooped you into his arms carrying you to his room. Maybe you would go without the mask tonight.

#crescent city #crescent city imagine #crescent city fanfic #crescent city x reader #crescent city fluff #crescent city fanfiction #crescent city Ithan #ithan holstrom fluff #ithan holstrom x reader #ithan holstrom x you #ithan holstrom

[captain-krow-drozdov]

Two For The Price Of One

(Linked Universe/BOTW Wild/Link AU)

BOTW Link Has Two Braincells Souls

1. The Hero That Died 100 Years Ago (Link)

And

2. The Artificial Sheikah Soul From The Shrine Of Resurrection/The Player (Tech)

Upon Finding Out From The Old Man That Having Another Person In Your Head Isn't The Norm They Decided That Link Gets To Keep His Name And The Artificial Sheikah Soul Will Now Be Dubbed Tech (Once Joining The Chain Link Picks Up The Nickname Unity And Tech Picks Up The Nickname Wild).

Unity/Link Still Has Amnesia But Ends Up Gaining A Lot Of Their Memories Back Pretty Quickly After Finding All The Picture Locations And Wild/Tech Literally Just Got Here When They Woke Up In The Shrine So It Was A Learning Process For Both Of Em.

Unity/Link Is Good With Swords, Shields And Most Weapons Whereas Wild/Tech Is Good With Archery, The Sheikah Slate(Mental Connection Go Brr) And Stealth. Unity/Link Has The Heros Spirit And Wild/Tech Is Just Here For The Vibes And To Be A Chaos Enabler. (Unity/Link Was A Domesticated Chaos Gremlin By The Time He Died And Wild/Tech Is Going To Un-Domesticate Him If It's The Last Thing He Does)

They Are Unfortunately Both Idiots/Chaos Gremlins And Socially Awkward And Will 100% Play Mental Rock Paper Scissors The Loser Has To Deal With Socializing.

Wild Ultimately Looks The Same But Also Has Some "Something Supernatural Is Going On There" Vibes Like Sharper Teeth, The Fact That Their Eyes Glow/Eyeshine, Scary Good Night Vision, Always Cold, Movements/Vibe Just Off Enough To Trigger Some Primal Fear In Strangers, Their Blood Has A Faint Glow To It And When Wild/Tech Is In Control The Blue Glow In Their Eyes Is Brighter And More Noticeable.

Mentally However, Unity/Link Looks Like He Did Back When He Was A Knight Before The Calamity Hit And Wild/Tech Looks Like A Sheikah Recolor Of Unity/Link But They Have Ancient Technology Markings Near Their Eyes And Where Any Visible Veins World Be As Well As Blue Fire Eyes That Glow In The Dark Similar To Guardians/Ancient Tech.

At This Rate Unity/Link & Wild/Tech Are On "Do Not Separate" Levels Of Chaotic Head Roommates. They Can Actively Switch Out Who's Driving The Body At Will And With Enough Focus Can Copilot The Body.

They Are Actively Keeping Score Of Who Is Closest To Figuring Out That There Are Two People Behind The Mental Wheel Of The Champion Link (Four And Zelda/Flora Have The Highest Scores).

{I Offer Incorrect Quotes For The General Dynamic/Vibe Of These Two}

~

Wild/Tech: If you See Me Talking To Myself, Go Away! I’m Self-Employed And We’re Having A Staff Meeting!

~

Unity/Link & Wild/Tech: Am I a Boy? Am I A Girl? It Doesn't Matter. I'm Going To Burn Your House Down.

~

Unity/Link: Name A More Iconic Duo Than My Crippling Fear Of Not Being Worthy Of Being The Hero And My Anxiety. I'll Wait.

Wild/Tech: You And Me!!!

Unity/Link, Tearing Up: Okay.

~

Unity/Link, Trying To Put His Knight Training To Use: Ok We Need A Plan...

Wild/Tech, Currently In Control Of The Body Pulling Out A Bomb Arrow: We Have A Plan. The Plan Is Burn Everything Until We Are All That's Left Standing!

Unity/Link, Fighting And Losing To His Pyromania Demons: That'll Work =)

~

Unity/Link: Wild/Tech...

Wild/Tech, Bloody And Bruised From A Recent Tumble Down A Mountain Due To Ignoring Shield Durability While Shield Surfing: Oh No, 'Wild/Tech' In B-Flat.

Wild/Tech: You're Disappointed.

~

Wild/Tech: So That’s My Plan.

Unity/Link, A Trained High Ranking Knight: Are You Alright With Constructive Criticism? I Don’t Want To Sound Mean.

Wild/Tech: No, Go Ahead, I Want To Hear It.

Unity/Link: It Fucking Sucks We Are Going To Die.

Wild/Tech: That’s Not Very Constructive Of Your Criticism.

~

Unity/Link: I Prevented A Murder Today.

Wild/Tech, Who Watched The Whole Exercise Of Self Restraint Go Down: Really? How’d You Do That?

Unity/Link: Self Control.

~

Wild/Tech: I CAN'T DO IT UNITY/LINK!

Unity/Link, Laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Wild/Tech: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Unity/Link: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT WILD/TECH, YOU CAN GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE I CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND I KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT ME.

Wild/Tech: . . .

Wild/Tech: I Appreciate It,

Wild/Tech: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH MAN-

Unity/Link: Wild/Tech-

Wild/Tech: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Unity/Link: Wild/Tech We Gotta-

Wild/Tech: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND DUDE. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Wild/Tech: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What Am I Willing To Put Up With Today?'

Wild/Tech, Motioning To Calamity Ganon: NOT FUCKING THIS!

#captain's posts #played botw today and my brain was like yo new Linked Universe idea just dropped #linked universe au #linked universe wild #link botw #tag me if anyone uses this for a fic i wanna read it <3 #captain does the writing thing

[yanderecrazysie]

Can you do a Yandere Sakusa one-shot?

Absolutely! I feel like I barely saw any of Sakusa in Haikyuu- so many people love him but I totally struggle with getting a feel for his personality. And thank you so much!

Also, it’s been a little while since I wrote about murder. Let’s change that! ^-^

Title: Competitive

Pairings: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, descriptions of murder, I know nothing about Japanese volleyball rules for girls on guy teams so just pretend I’m right

Summary: Sakusa’s never felt this competitive before. Maybe it has something to do with his newest opponent.

competitive

/adjective/

having or displaying a strong desire to be more successful than others:

Sakusa had never felt this alive.

He was used to staying in the background with a bored, disdainful expression. Judging people from a distance while staying in his own little germ-free corner. He rarely found interest in anything but volleyball.

Sure, he got competitive during volleyball, much more than in any other aspect of his life. He didn’t like leaving things unfinished and losing felt unfinished. He had a tendency to label rivals as a threat and overfocus on them throughout every match.

But never had he been more competitive than against this team.

He couldn’t understand why he viewed most of this team as such a threat or why he wanted to crush them harder than any team in the past.

Sakusa prided himself on his honesty, even if it went into the territory of being way too blunt. But this wasn’t so much lying to himself as it was being unable to figure out why?

He barely heard the whistle sound as he blankly turned to look at the scoreboard. Oh. They’d won. And by nearly 15 points. He’d been much too focused on the game to pay attention to the score. It felt like a blur.

The team he was playing at lined up and began to do their punishment exercises- running up and down the hill outside. Honestly, the training camp was going easy on everyone. If you lost in a competition, you were out.

Sakusa’s eyes trailed after one particular player as the number 13 jersey jogged through the morning dew-laden grass. You.

He’d been surprised that a team had let a girl play, but he had originally supposed you were just a bench warmer, let on to keep the parents’ mouths shut about equality. He had been outright shocked (though he’d never show it) when you lined up to play off against the other teams as not even the libero, but the setter.

You weren’t filling in for anyone, either, that much was for sure. Sakusa had watched your team beat another before playing against his and you were good. Your movements were fluid, your form was perfect, and you were a quick-thinker. Not a genius like Kageyama and not as talented as Oikawa, but you were a worthy opponent by far.

When he went up against your team, one of the wing-spikers (the one right across from him) said something snarky, something he couldn’t even remember anymore, and put his arm around you for just a moment while laughing.

And then, he’d been consumed by a need to win he couldn’t hope to control.

When your team turned around to run down the hill, he could see the disappointment on your face. You felt bad about losing, most likely, even though you’d probably done your very best. Sakusa didn’t know, he hadn’t been paying attention to you during the match.

Although, now it was over, he felt like he should have been.

You looked like an angel, with the sun’s rays lighting you up at that angle- he almost expected a halo to appear above your head. Your beautiful skin shone with sweat but it just enhanced your looks by making you glow.

He wasn’t the type to get this distracted by a girl, but he couldn’t help it.

“Why are you in a corner by yourself?”

To anyone else, Sakusa would say something biting, making them leave with their tails between their legs. To you, he could only look down at his food silently, wishing he had the guts to say anything to you.

“Would you like to sit with us?” Your voice was so soothing, so kind… You probably thought he was lonely, all by himself, when he did this to himself. He just wanted to get away from the crowd as they ate lunch, but you…

You really forced him out of his comfort zone from the moment you met him, huh?

“I’d prefer to stay here,” he managed to mumble out.

“Oh, okay,” you looked a little disappointed. Were you hoping to hang out with him? His heart lifted a little at the thought but quickly plummeted when you dejectedly walked away. 

He knew then that, if you gave him the chance, he’d do anything to bring that smile back to your face.

The universe must hate him, Sakusa was sure of that.

Somehow, he’d been tasked to be the one to clean up all the dirty, germ-ridden volleyball equipment at the end of the night, along with that infuriating guy from your team that always had his hands all over you.

But you’d given Sakusa a little wave and sweet smile as you left, and that’s all that really mattered to him. Silly that a girl he’d just met had so much power over him.

There was a cage filled with all sorts of different PE equipment that the volleyballs were meant to go in. The two boys jogged around the gym, scooping up the balls, dropping them in the cage, and repeating.

It would’ve been fine, had it been in silence. But the other boy just would not shut up.

At first it was little digs at how their team would beat his next time, about how Sakusa’s a “weird guy”, and then he said something that sealed his fate.

“(Y/n)’s pretty hot though, don’t you think? The girl on our team? Bet you’re jealous.”

Oh, he was jealous. Jealous beyond words.

“Yeah, I’m glad she’s on the team- she looks hot in a jersey and shorts. Doesn’t she?”

Is this how he always talked about you? Did you know about this.

The two of them stopped at the cage to drop off volleyballs. As your teammate turned around to gather more, Sakusa fished around deeper inside, under the volleyballs.

“I really wish she’d let me-”

CRACK

The sound of a baseball bat meeting the side of the jerk’s skull was a wonderful sound to Sakusa. 

The boy slumped forwards, landing on his face and not moving. For good measure, Sakusa brought the bat down hard on the back of his head. Twice.

He didn’t bother to touch his disgusting body to get a pulse reading- he could see the guy was dead from a mile away. It felt good. Better than he’d ever expected.

The threat was gone. Now both you and Sakusa could be a little happier. 

But he wanted more. He wanted all of the competition out of the way, until it was just you and him. Maybe that was selfish of him but he couldn’t help it.

He wondered how many of your teammates he could dispose of before this week-long training camp was over.

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!! #yandere one shot #yandere x reader #one shot #yandere sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi

[lussiane333]

Hi! ^^ I wanted to ask if I could make a request? I really like Bughuul and I really like the headcanons you make. Can you make Bughuul headcanons?

This came at the perfect time, i swear! I just rewatched Sinister 1,2 again :D There's not enough love for Mr. Boogie, and i'm gonna make it right.

You moved to the house where the last murder happened. You bought it with knowing what kind of sick history the house has. But it didn't look bad, price was cheap and it was a good location.

The kids and Bughuul himself knew about you right away. Your destiny was immediately clear to him. At least he thought so. It was new for him though, you were alone. No family, no partner. Alone.

First few nights were full of odd dreams. Children, children everywhere. Their pale skin and visible marks that looked like veins on their face, always unsettled you when you thought about it next morning. It was driving you crazy. Then it was you with someone in a long black coat, not facing you. It took place in a foggy forest, near something that looked like stairs and a black, at first glance repulsive castle.

You had very similar dreams when you were younger, you remember that you had trouble sleeping because of them. But it had stopped a long time ago? The dreams weren't the only strange things happening. It didn't even seem like dreams anymore, more like visions.

You also noticed that things changed position without you touching them, your keys seemed to disappear and reappear at random. Your clothes would move and you didn’t understand. The temperature in the house was outrageously cold, and you weren't feeling warm even if you sat near the fireplace. You tried to not pay attention to it. Keyword, tried to. But when you constantly heard giggling behind you, saw movements and shadows in your presence, it wasn't so easy to ignore it anymore.

Everything started with one incident.

You explored your house, checked out the backyard, garden, and lastly.. the attic. It was a spacious, yet small room. There was old stuff around, some chairs and wooden boards, but the box in the middle caught your attention.

You opened it, not expecting what was inside. It was.. tapes? You took the box and went back, but when you stepped into your living room, the curtains were drawn and some tape player was ready, along with 5 kids who sat on the couch and waited for you. They turned around to face you, and they all made a "shh pose" You were frightened. It was them! The children you saw in your dreams! When you dropped the box down, and turned around to run the fuck away, that's when you saw him. Bughuul. Walking slowly to you, making you fall down on the ground. You saw him completely. His presence was cold, black long hair resting on his wide shoulders. You didn't know who he is, he had no eyes, no mouth, yet you felt like he's staring right through you. When he took another step forward, your attempt to stand up failed. Your head was now filled with pain, deep voice echoed inside of it.

"How brave of you to move into a place like this.. But I think you'll regret it in a moment, my dear" You grabbed the nearest object and threw it at him. He just chuckled at you quietly and vanished. Just like that. It was still ringing in your head, making you nauseous, you slowly stood up, and walked. You didn't want to stay in that house anymore, you would sleep somewhere outside, on the bench even. Anywhere just not in that house.

THE ATTIC! THE TAPES! THE TAPES! FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED! Laughing and hollering was coming from every side. The kids were running around. You wanted to run outside, but the second you entered the hallway, the small shoe rack placed next to the main door was thrown at you.

Your aching body laid on the ground, not knowing there was actually someone near, you turned around and saw him again. Not the one you hoped for.

He grabbed you by the neck and smashed you against the door.

"You won't leave!" His painful dark gaze bore into you. As you felt your breath leave you, he looked into your eyes, ready to take your soul away. But then his eyebrows furrowed, and his grip loosened.

You fell, but not on the ground, someone caught you and held you in their arms. That's the last thing you remember. You woke up on the couch the next day. What the hell was that? A dream? A hallucination?

You then checked your neck in the mirror, but not one mark on it.

But you weren't dreaming. It was fucking real. The tape projector still in place like before, you stood up and picked up the scattered tapes. With trembling hands you played the tape and then it all caught up with you. The house and the murders. The mysterious symbol and the 'thing' on photos named 'Bughuul' The legend it's real! He made the kids do it!

"Well yes, and no" You heard a voice behind you, a very familiar voice..

You reflexively touched your neck but didn't turn around.

"I apologize for that, sincerely" He said, and and walked over to you.

"I didn't want to.." "I didn't know that.." He stopped talking and gently touched your shoulder. His cold touch sent shivers down your spine.

Who the fuck is he and why is he here? Yesterday he wanted to kill you and now he's apologising and caressing you?

"Well first of all, I'm not a thing or legend or whatever you called me" He spoke, his deep voice once again echoing in your head.

"Second.." "I didn't made anyone do anything, those children already have it in them and I am the only one who accepts them" You could feel the irony in his voice. You shook your head and looked at him. He was even closer now.

"And to your question 'why is he here'.. I came for you"

"What?!" You started to back away but he grabbed you. You tried to push him away, but in vain.

"Let me explain"

"Get away from me!"

"That's impossible dear, I already made a decision" You didn't understand what was going on, you had a terrible chaos.

"I didn't know it at first.. but your eyes.. it's like they spoke to me"

"Let me go!" You struggled against the deity's grasp as he held you in place.

"No, I want you to come with me"

"I said let me go!" You were already creating a plan how you will leave this house and never look back, when he spoke again.

"I wouldn't even think about it" "I guess you don't need the details of what happens when you leave"

"Why are you doing this to me?!" You were scared and desperate.

He took your face in his hands, "You did it to yourself by coming here" His tone was harsh. "But I think it was meant to be" "If you just let me.. I want you to know.. to see"

You didn't answer and he moved closer, his nose touching yours. You looked where his eyes would be and he pulled you into a kiss. When you closed your eyes, it seemed like a new reality was in front of you. Déjà vu.

You saw it all again. The forest, castle.. but now you could finally see who was always there with you.. It was him, holding your hand, leading you with him. You could see everything.

He broke the kiss and said "I wanted to make sure it's really you, i saw it too"

"I saw it before and i see it now"

"But how? I've seen this years ago every night and then it just-"

"I made it stop, I had to"

"Why?" You leaned into him and he kissed you again.

"If I hadn't done it.. I would really lead you to the castle one day, and you would die"

"It can't be done that way, your soul would be lost somewhere between the realms of hell and real world, if that happened, i would never be able to find you"

You tried to keep yourself together, but it was hard.

"I want to take you to my realm, you no longer belong here"

"I will give you everything you desire" He caressed your cheek. "If you let me desire you, and return it.. If you let yourself to be mine"

An hour ago, you couldn't even imagine something like this, but now it doesn't sound bad at all..

"The choice is yours but I already know the answer" The deity teased.

You rolled your eyes at him. He pressed his lips on yours one last time:

"I will come back for you tomorrow" He turned away to leave, but you reached and grabbed his hand.

"I don't want to decide alone.. stay" You said in a low tone.

Decision making has never been so much fun before.

Part 2? 😏

#sinister #sinister 2 #sinister 2012 #sinister movie #bughuul #bughuul x reader #baghuul #bagul #mr boogie #horror movies #slashers #slasher community #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher #slasher fandom #slasher fanfiction #slasher fucker #slasher imagines #slasher movies #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slash fic #slashers x you

[herroyalhighnessqueenmomo]

Big and Chunky | Eddie Munson x Plus Sized! Reader

Hawkins was an unfortunately small town. A small town that was allegedly cursed with tragedies happening at least once a year at this point. If it weren't for you trying to make it by in school you'd make the effort to investigate what the hell was actually going on in this damn town. Alas, you were constantly distracted by the constant stacks of homework and the other tribulations that came with your young adult life. This year's tragedy had involved your crush, Eddie 'the Dungeon Master' Munson and how he somehow was some sort of serial killer. That's when you had enough of a push to do your own investigation about how the hell this was happening. You knew Eddie wasn't capable of murder. Sure he was a lot of things but he wasn't a killer. You had no idea where to start. So you figured you'd start at the police department.

You baked some cookies and decided to take it to the police as some sort of peace offering. As soon as you got the station you saw some cops coming in and out of the building. You grabbed the plate from your passenger seat and got out of your car. You put on your best fake smile and went inside the station.

"Ms. L/N what brings you here in the middle of the night?" It was the newly appointed chief Powell. "Are those cookies?" A lot of the movement in the building sort of stopped out of curiosity. "They are. Look, I know you officers are hard at work trying to get to the bottom of this investigation and I also know the town seems to be against you. So I decided to bake you guys these cookies as a reminder that you still have someone routing for you." You smiled. "Well that's real sweet of you Ms. L/n. I can't speak for everyone but I'm sure it will be well appreciated." He went to grab the plate. You kind of pulled back. "Uh actually Mister...I mean Chief Powell, while I'm here I was wondering is there anything I can do to help?" You asked.

Meanwhile you took the opportunity to skim the desks near by to see if there was anything laying around that could help you. "I can't say that there is." He stated and went to grab the cookies again. "Are you sure? You see I'll be honest, I do admire the work that you guys put in. In fact, I've considered joining the force after school. Perhaps you can give me some pointers or let me tag along wi-" You began to ramble a bit as your eyes were still searching for some sort of clue. "Uh actually Ms. L/N, as nice as it is to see someone as young as you interested in this line of work right now isn't exactly the best time t-"

"I disagree completely, I'd say this is the best time. More hands on opportunities. This kind of stuff just doesn't happen all the time." You tried to argue. Your eyes finally landed on the bulletin board you saw in the background. It was as if the police were trying to find a link between the victims but it looks like they are stagnant. "Ms. L/N, I truly appreciate your enthusiasm but you're still in school and-" You finally looked him in the eye. "Actually its fine, you're right. It could be dangerous. I wouldn't want to be the next victim anyways. Thanks anyways." You smiled and handed him the plate. He seemed confused but you just walked away and left.

You went and got into your car. You had to sit and think. What was the possible connection between the popular sweetheart Chrissy Cunningham, The nerdy boy from Journalism Fred Benson, and most recently basketball player Patrick McKinney? You would understand Chrissy and Patrick. The connection is that they were both relatively popular and represented Hawkins High as model students. But Fred? He didn't fit in that equation. Sure he was a sweet guy but he wasn't as noteworthy as the other two students. So why him?

You pulled out of the parking lot and drove off in frustration trying to figure it out. You were drawing a complete blank. You weren't even sure where you were driving to but you didn't stop. You decided to go to one of the Hellfire member's house. You knew that was where Eddie and his band would practice in the garage. You pulled up to the drive way. You saw the boys fixing their equipment. You got out from your car and shut the door gaining the attention from the group of outcasts. "What the hell are you doing here L/N?" Gareth said.

You walked a few steps forward then leaned on the hood of your car. "Come on there's no need to be an ass Gareth." You stated. He rolled his eyes. "Sorry, do you mind sharing with us the reason for you to be gracing us with your presence, Y/N?" He asked. You stood up straight. "Better. I could have done without the sarcasm, but better." You stated. The boys were starting to look a little annoyed at you and the lack of getting answers. “Where’s Eddie? Better yet, do you anything that could prove his innocence?” You asked. They looked surprised at you. “You want to help him?” Jeff asked. You nodded. “Of course I do. There’s no way Eddie would kill anyone. At least not on purpose if anything.”

The boys looked at each other. “Look, even if wanted to help our buddy out we’ve got nothing. Jason and his gang of assholes came by earlier today asking about Eddie. Messed with our shit to get us to talk. I’ll tell you the same thing I told them, that kid Dustin Henderson called us a few days ago asking about where Eddie might be staying. Seems like Eddie was staying at reefer Rick’s. If they haven’t caught him yet, he’s definitely not there anymore. Besides, I’m sure there are cops crawling all around Lover’s Lake.” Gareth explained. You nodded in understanding. Jeff scoffed. “Hell you’d have a better chance checking his trailer.” He said almost in a sarcastic tone. You beamed brightly. “Jeff my boy, you are a pure genius.” He seemed confused. “I am?” He asked. 

“Of course! The cops are probably all searching Lover’s Lake and most likely aren’t at the trailer park anymore.” You stated enthusiastically. You got back into your car and sped off to the trailer park. It was so incredibly dark but as soon as you arrived to his trailer you saw a few bikes outside. You had gotten out of your car and ran up to the door. You swung the door open causing the kids inside to shriek which in turn made you shriek as well. You heard some muffled sounds coming from the ceiling. You saw a very strange dark vain like hole and what appeared to be bedsheets going into it.

“Who the hell are you?” The curly haired boy asked. You knew him to be Dustin. “Uh...Y/N L/N. We’ve met before actually. You asked me to join your campaign the other day but I couldn’t make it.” You explained. You heard some more muffling coming from the ceiling. “W-What is that?” You asked. They all looked at each other. “It’s a portal.” The young girl said. “I’m Erica by the way. Lucas’ unfortunately younger sister.” She introduced herself. Lucas turned to her looking very upset. She just flicked him off. “A portal to what?” You asked. Dustin pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a portal to a world just like ours but its pretty much lifeless and upside down.” He explained. He then grabbed a mattress and set it on the ground underneath the hole. You heard some more muffling from the ceiling. “What’s going on?” 

“Well, you kind of came in to the middle of everything so out of context it definitely doesn’t make sense.” Lucas stated. “Nancy, Steve, Robin, and Eddie are all stuck in the other world and we are trying to get them safely out.” Max the red headed girl explained. All of a sudden you saw Robin drop from the ceiling and onto the mattress. “Hey that was kind of fun.”She said as she got helped getting off the mattress. "Y/N, I didn't realize you were here too." Robin stated. You nodded. "Uh...yeah. Just kind of joined the party I guess." Next thing you knew Eddie was next to drop onto the mattress. He sat up. "That.was.fun." Eddie got helped up as well and got off of the mattress. ��L/N, what are you doing here?” He said surprised to see you. “I actually came to find you. To see if I could help prove your innocence.” You explained. “You came all this way for little ol’ me?” He asked placing a hand on his chest seeming to be very touched. “Uh yeah...didn’t realize I was getting myself involved into some freaky shit.” You stated. Eddie grabbed your hand. “Here lets talk outside.” He pulled you out of the trailer. He took a deep breath. “Shit I missed fresh air.” He said.

You giggled a bit but was generally concerned about what he had probably just experienced. “What the hell happened?” You asked. “Too much shit. Too much for me to process. Hell I can hardly process you being here right now.” He explained. “Well I knew you weren’t capable of murder so I wanted to see what I could do. I’m a little late on the case though.” He shrugged. “Well better late then never sweetheart. I appreciate it.” He said. “How’d you figure out where I was?” He asked in turn. “I paid a visit to the Hellfire club.” He nodded. “How are they holding up?” You shook your head a bit in contemplation. “I mean they’re alright but they don’t look the same without you.” The door of his trailer slammed open. It was Max. "He's got Nancy."

Eddie began to rush inside with you right behind him. "Who's got Nancy?" You asked. Nobody answered. Everyone was rummaging around Eddie's things. Robin had a handful of...god knows what in her hands. "Seriously what is all this shit?!"Robin questioned in panic. Eddie began to panic too. "I mean I don't even know what you're looking for!" He yelled. "Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, Beatles, music! We need music!" She shouted. He grabbed whatever was in her hand "THIS. IS. MUSIC!" He shouted back at her. "Okay yelling at each other isn't helping." You tried to reason and were now getting frantic yourself.

"We need to find something or Vecna is gonna kill Nancy!" Max exclaimed. You began to look around to not entirely sure if you were helping. "What kind of music are we looking for?" You asked. "Anything Nancy would listen to." Robin said as she continued to search. "It has to be her favorite song." She explained. "Does anyone know what the hell her favorite song is? For all I know she could like Pat Benatar or Metallica." You stated. You heard some voices from the ceiling. Then Nancy dropped on the mattress seemingly unharmed. Robin helped her up. Steve followed behind her and landed on the mattress. Dustin helped him up and off the mattress. Nancy was extremely quiet. She looked frightened.

Morning had come and she sat everyone down and explained what she saw in the vision that Vecna showed her. It sounded horrible. You didn't know who this guy was but he sounded awful. It seemed like he was the true monster behind the murders and that he needed to be taken down. That's when the group formulated a plan for them to get weapons in what sounded like an illegal hick store and yet it allegedly was pretty legal. To get there you all needed a vehicle and to make sure Eddie wasn't spotted. Max ran to her house and came back with her Michael Myers mask I'm assuming she had from Halloween.

"You can't be serious." You stated. "Its all I had." Max explained. Eddie shrugged. "Guess its better then showing my pretty little face for all to see." He said and put it on. You all snuck around the trailer park following Eddie. He led you guys to an RV that was parked. The owners lounging right outside. Eddie went to the window in the back and slid it open. He jumped up and shimmied his way inside. "Are we actually doing this?" You asked not sure if this was a good idea. Was this considered grand theft auto if its technically a home too? This has to be worst though. "Shh." Erica shushed you. Everyone began to climb in the RV and you were at a loss because you were sure you 1) Couldn't pull yourself up there. And 2) Couldn't fit through the damn window. "Y/N. Come on." Nancy whisper shouted as she waved for you to hurry up. You did sort of a running start and jumped up to the window. You definitely struggled to pull yourself up. The group grabbed onto you to pull you in but your hips got stuck. "Damn these hips." You muttered as you heard Eddie hot wiring the vehicle.

"Eddie! I'm not in yet!" Then Steve hopped in the driver's seat and started the getaway. Your legs flailed in the air. "Hello! My ass is out the damn window!" You exclaimed. The kids were doing their best to pull you in and honestly you were pretty embarrassed at this point. Eddie came over to your aid and tried to help pull you in. "I'm going to get ripped in half here!" Eddie made his way right in front of you and was grabbing your torso while the kids continued to pull your arms. Soon Steve made a sharp turn causing everyone to fall back and the rest of you to launch right through the window for you to land right on top of Eddie on the couch.

You looked into his eyes and your cheeks were burning. Partial from the embarrassment and then partial for the fact that you were on top of Eddie freaking Munson. "Well that's one way to make a landing." Eddie remarked. You quickly made an effort to get off of him. "I'm so sorry." You stated. "Nah. Don't be." He sat up and reached behind you to shut the window. His eyes never left yours as he did so. He was a mere inches away from your face. You could've died right on the spot. The two of you got off the couch and you made your way to one of the seats by the table. Eddie sat across from you.

"I appreciate you wanting to come with us even though we're breaking several laws." He said. You let out a single laugh. "Yeah who would've thought. I mean I guess I knew I was going to breaking some laws by aiding and abetting a fugitive but this takes the cake." You stated. "You didn't have t-" Eddie began. "I wanted to come." You cut him off. "You're badass L/N, I'll give you that." Eddie said a smile plastered his face. You scoffed. "I hardly would call getting stuck in an RV window and needing a group of freshmans and you to help me, badass." You replied. "But of course. I've unfortunately got my mother's hips." You laid your head down and sighed out loud. "I think you've got some pretty nice hips." He stated. You shot your head up. "You do?" You asked. He nodded. "Not that I stare at your hips or anything, I just think they're um...they're uh...pretty...rad?" You furrowed your eyebrows together. "Rad?" You repeated. "So you must've really believed in me for you to risk coming to find me." Eddie stated changing the subject entirely.

You nodded. "You're a lot of things Eddie, but you're no killer. To hell to everyone who thinks otherwise." You stated. He smirked. "So I uh...remember you mentioned Metallica earlier, when we were looking for something for Nancy. You know them?" He asked. You nodded. "Hell yeah, I know Metallica. I don't live under a rock." You answered. "I hadn't realized you were a medal head." He stated. "Yeah well...you can't judge a book by its cover or some shit,right?" You responded. He laughed. "Yeah that's true.

You had continued to talk to Eddie until you arrived to the store. Everyone got out except Eddie since he obviously couldn't be seen and you decided to stay back and keep him company. "So how have you been?" You asked. "I know its a bit of a stupid question since you're obviously being hunted down, but I just thought I'd ask anyways." He smiled at you. "Well my life took a major shit rather quickly. '86 was supposed to be my year. At least I have you guys looking out for me. I honestly don't know what I'd do if you guys didn't believe me." He explained. You nodded and reached out for his hand. You grasped it. Eddie looked down at both of your hands together and he looked back up to you. You offered a comforting smile. "You can still make it your year. We can get you through this."

"Even if you do, people are still going to believe I'm a satan worshipper who killed Chrissy." He reminded you. You sighed and nodded. "What was she doing in your trailer anyways? That night." You could not help but to ask. "Buying drugs, like anyone else." He stated. "Seemed like she was pretty paranoid and wanted to calm herself down so I was looking for something in my trailer that could work." He explained. You were surprised. "Chrissy doing drugs? I'd sooner believe she'd cheat on that stiff Carver with you, then that." He laughed a bit. "Yeah I was surprised to when she asked me." He sat back and crossed his arms. "And that whole Chrissy and me thing? Wouldn't have happened." He said. "Oh really? Why because she was out of your league?" He grabbed his chest and faked getting wounded. "Ouch L/N. You're breaking my heart here." You started laughing. "But no, she just wasn't my type. Too..." He trailed off. "Preppy?" You asked. He shook his head. He then motioned his hands close together right before they could touch as if he was signifying something small. "Tiny." He said. You were lost and didn't quite understand where he was getting at. "So what is your type?" You asked him. He slowly eyed you up and down. A sly smirk grew on his face. "I like em' Big and Chunky."He stated.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie x reader #plus sized reader