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quillthrillswriting · 1 month

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i think that by far, the most common zutara trope i've seen is zuko freeing katara from her unhappy marriage with the clingy, unappreciative aang.

i've always felt that that aang would genuinely worship the ground katara walked on and be exceedingly kind and respectful, and so i've always thought that this trope would make a lot more sense flipped, with aang in the position of being katara's safe space after zukko reverts back to his angry, sullen, lashing out persona that he was before uncle iroh & the gaang's involvement.

this fic is the result of me having the thought "might f around and write a kataang fic that flips the usual zutara trope of "zuko helps katara escape a failing relationship with aang" 😳"

---

Zuko was all alone, heading an entire empire and facilitating the transition of his nation from a war-bringer to a force for peace. At first, she told herself that it was only because he had needed help that she chose to stay with him, but that wasn’t being entirely honest. After that play on Ember Island, all of the scenes where the two of them were in love had opened Katara’s eyes to the possibility, and try as she might, she couldn’t shut them again. And Zuko, after all that he’d sacrificed to help them, after redeeming himself in her eyes, even fighting alongside her, he had seemed like her best chance at home.

So she had stayed with him.

---

Zuko proposed, after just six months, but Katara thought little of the brief timeline. When you know, you know, right? He had given her his mother’s ring, and had her dress in Fire Nation colours for the ceremony. She had been under the impression that the wedding would be a welding of cultures, and so she had spent weeks painstakingly carving a traditional water tribe proposal necklace.

When she had presented it to him, Zuko had only said that a Fire Lord couldn’t be seen wearing another nation’s trinkets . She had quietly dabbed away her tears when he wasn’t looking.

---

The moon rose and set six more nights before Katara rose with it, slipping outside of the castle during the changing of the guard, draped in traditional water tribe colours for the first night in years. Before anyone had seen her, she had made it, slipping between Fire Nation homes almost silently. She only paused to pull clothes and a cloth head covering from a clothesline, silently apologizing to whatever family she had just stolen from. She tucked a couple of coins and a piece of gold jewellery into one of the pockets of the pants still on the clothesline, an attempt at making amends for her crime, then blended into the night again.

She hadn’t stopped moving until she’d finally found a small forest, then she’d made herself a bed of moss and curled up as if she was a child back on the tundra, pretending to be a sleeping snow fox alongside Sokka.

She missed her brother. She missed her home.

---

She knew where she would go once the cargo ship reached the land. The last location Aang had been in was the Western Air temple. So that was where she would go. If she needed to, to find Aang, she’d scour every inch of the mainland. She knew he would do the same for her. Which begged the question- why hadn’t he come to her when he began to feel that something was off?

It was that question that Katara started with, as she settled into a comfortable position on Aang’s woven rug, a cup of hot tea curling steam around her body that she absent-mindedly bent into shapes around her.

---

Aang sighed, looking away. “Katara, I hate to give you more reasons to feel distressed, but in case you hadn’t remembered, you told me to stay away. Told me my “juvenile crush” was ridiculous and made you uncomfortable. I felt awful, and so, I backed off. I kept sending letters every couple months, trying to make sure you were okay, but you told me you were too busy, and I respected that.”

Katara’s tone was unsettlingly neutral when she responded. “...What?”

Aang titled his head, confused. “You said, in your letters, that-”

She responded in that same tone. “What letters , Aang?”

♥ the rest of the (completed) fic can be found here!! ->

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loneduet · 6 months

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Secrets - Part 1

Summary: You love Sokka and it scares you. You don't know what he'll do if he finds out. (Your a firebender)

A/N - ngl I wrote this for myself because of my recurring obsession with this lovable boy.

warnings: kissing, kinda short sorry

Hope you enjoy!

__________________

It all started when I met aang.

I ran way from my home not too long before i met them. Growing up in the fire nation was rough, especially being the emperors daughter. After zuko left to search for the airebender, i soon followed suit and left my status behind. All I ever was to my father was a dissapointment and I couldn't deal with Azula alone.

I was left with few options of where to go. I ended up living undercover in ba sing se where I soon met three kids my age. They were strangers at first, but now I don't know how I lived life without them. They have become my friends. My family.

While I know they are the exact people my brother is hunting down, I couldn't help but join them on their journey. I don't know what I'll do if I have to face my brother, but I know that I will never betray them.

Each of them showed me a kindness I have never known or deserved. Katara immediately accepted me, she loved having another girl be on the conquest and she insisted on braiding my hair everyday. Aang was kind and understanding. Deep down I know that he is aware of the secrets I keep, but he respects my boundaries and he shows me the fun to be had of everyday things. And than theres sokka. He is a completely different story.

When I met him my whole world was changed. At first he was wary of me and my additional presence to the group, but we soon started to get along. Really get along. He was protective and caring. At first glance, i immediantly respected the way that he treated his sister. While they fought like all siblings do, it's obvious that they truly love each other and I know that sokka will take care of her until the end.

I can see that all sokka wants to accomplish is to be a good leader and brother. He doesn't have bending abilities and he has admitted to me that this is one of his greatest insecurities, but it is far from a flaw. He hides a lot of his fear through his stupid jokes and ridiculous attitude, but I have learned to see through his disguise.

I have fallen so incredibly fast for this water tribe boy and he is completely unaware. Knowing his story, I can't let him find out about my past. He will never love me especially if he knows that im fire nation scum.

__________________

"Y/N, do you want to share with me?"

I looked over to see Sokka and his adorable puppy dog eyes looking at me.

"Of course." I giggle, helping him set up the tent.

Due to our constant travels and relocations, we had very few supplies which resulted in only three tents between the four of us. I wasn't complaining though.

"Goodnight Y/N." Aang said, giving me a friendly kiss on the cheek before heading to his tent.

"Yeah, goodnight!" Katara said with a wink. To her, it was obvious that I liked her older brother. She immediantly approved when she found out about it. If only she knew who I was.

I climbed into our shared tent and zipped it up behind me. Sokka was already laying down opening up the covers for me.

It was a normal thing for sokka and I to fall asleep in each other's embrace. Ever since we accidently fell asleep during one of aangs stories we have been inseparable. Sokka claims that he sleeps better because of how warm I naturally am and frankly he helps me keep the nightmares of my dad at bay.

From an outside perspective, our relationship is definitely weird. It's not normal for 'just friends' to cuddle up to each other every night. Deep down though, we both knew that their are feelings, but neither of us wanted to ruin what we have. What we could have.

I slipped under the covers next to him, his water nation blankets being especially fluffy and comfortable. Naturally his arms wrapped around my smaller frame and I tucked my head against his chest. His slow heart beat helped lull me to sleep.

"Y/N?" Sokka asked right before I dozed off.

"Yea?" I softly replied.

He than looks me straight in the eye. "I'm really glad I met you."

The statement takes me aback and I look maintain his eye contact, sitting up.

"Can I kiss you?" I whisper, not being able to help myself any longer.

He doesn't reply but leans forward and captures my lips with his. His body radiates warmth as he scoops me into his lap. I slide my hands into his soft hair that is let out of his usual ponytail. He grunts softly and let's go of my lips and puts his forehead against mine.

"Y/N, I think I love you."

Before he could return to kissing me my entire body freezes. He notices when I tense and looks at me questionably.

"I cant." I reply, leaving the tent in haste. The boy of my dreams watches my figure go, wondering what he did wrong. I cant do this to him. It has to stop.

#sokka atla #sokka #atla #fanfic #avatar the last airbender #sokka x reader #fluff #oneshot #firebender #Sokka x firebender #Firebenderreader

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elmundodeflor · 1 month

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And just like that, she’d fallen for him.

Spring. Summer. Autumn. The world had its cycles. There had been peace before war, and peace would come after bloodsheds and battles.

Katara looks at Zuko, at how he stares out to the width in the horizons. The curves of his nose and lips are soft, much like the colors of the leaves around them. The lines of his jaw and cheeks are sharp, in contrast.

He’s a beautiful man; she’s always thought so, even when they were enemies and he’d sworn he’d kill them. She likes it better this way, though— being friends, confidants, long-time companions. Kindness suits him more, either way. She likes how his face looks when he’s calm, — when there’s no rage to contort his scar, no scowl furrowing his brow.

She also likes that he knows her. That they can stand, silence pending between them, and it’s never too tense or uncomfortable. Zuko is just that good to her. He never puts too much pressure on her shoulders, — she’s had enough of that already. Instead, he soothes the rough edges. Lets her make her own choices and never judges her for them.

He looks back at her. An easy smile grazes his features; baffling, tortuous, beautiful. Katara has to fight the urge to freeze some water from her bottle and smash it across her searing face.

“Do you wanna…”, his voice cuts through the wind, raspy as it ever was. When he talks, it’s evident that he’s nervous. That he’s been circling around his thoughts and can’t seem to find the words. “I mean…”, he tries again. “Do you wanna stay here until you decide what to do?”

She hums, then turns her gaze back to the gardens. Aang had asked her to travel the world along with him, — to be by his side and help other people, from other nations and villages. She had yet to give him a proper answer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to— go on missions, hear the masses’ suffering and be present in whatever way she could. Maybe, it was that she simply had pictured something different for herself. She could be so much more than just the “Avatar’s girl”! She could go home, lend a useful hand to Sokka and her dad advocating for their tribe. She could be an ambassador.

She could be with Zuko.

She can imagine the whole thing all too well, actually, — being on the palace, with him, until she could confront Aang about what to do. They could go for an evening stroll, feed turtleducks by the lake. Zuko’d make tea way past dinner time, and she’d laugh along with Suki when he’d burn his tongue by the first sip.

“There’s nothing I’d like more.”, she tells him, then. They are in one of the many balconies, staring out at the sun. The last scraps of summer have flushed with the breeze, and now the trees look all kinds of reds, yellows, oranges. Almost like they’ve caught on fire.

Zuko smiles at her again. A shy, wonderful thing that makes his eyes glint. His hair’s shaggy and overgrown, and falls limp between the honey of his irises. His cheeks burn a bright pink that, Katara deduces, might be from the gentle light warming up their faces.

“Okay.”, he says. He likes this, as well, — having her around. That he can open up to someone he can share his scars with, both the physical and the ones that lay underneath.

Katara inches close to him, just enough so that their elbows nudge together. The world has its cycles, she believes. Blue skies bleed into the darkness of the night. Ice defrosts when heated-up. And just like that, she’d fall for Zuko— delicate, and raw, and over and over. Helpless, like the moon that carries down the tides. Hopeless, like the autumn leaves that fall, ever so slow, and now gather at their feet like sea-foam.

“Okay.”

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avatqr · 7 months

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Please Stay [zuko x reader]

-please enjoy this one shot I came up with in the middle of night:3

-some extra info you might want: You are apart a noble family in the fire nation, Your father is a Commanding officer and serving in the war

Things have been so great with Zuko for such a long time. Since his he has returned from his banishment and started talking to his father again things were looking up.

We spent all of our days together, running through the royal palace, trying the best restaurants in town, sitting down and having tea with his uncle. I have one specific memory though, I wasn't doing so well. I was running a high fever and throwing up nonstop. The smell did not leave my bathroom for weeks! Zuko stuck by me the entire time though. He made me soup, tea, fetched me water, held my hair the whole deal. I could never thank him enough for that. Things were going well for not just him but for us. I loved him so much and he loved me. That's how it always was. That's how it was always supposed be. But after a few months something changed. I don't know when I started to notice the changes. Zuko was suddenly distant, less excited. It was was almost like the fire in his eyes has went out. I spent countless nights awake in my bed worrying about what could be wrong. Was it me? Did I make him angry?

I was walking through the palace, I had finally heard my father was back from Ba Sing Se. I make my way down the dark flaming hallway. I saw Zuko walking a ways down, I ran up to him and just walked by him silently waiting for him to greet me like he normally does but this time I get no greeting. We walked in silence for awhile listening to the flames rumble and the way our steps sounded together. The silence was tearing me apart. I finally broke.

"Why haven't you said anything?" I whispered. The tension was choking me. A chain is around my neck, a whisper was all I could manage.

"Me and Azula talked last night, and I have been thinking about some things. And I.." Zuko stopped talking. He let out a heavy sigh and turned to walk the other way.

"What has been wrong with you this past couple of weeks?" The chains that have been suppressing me suddenly start falling off. "I have done nothing but been there for you before and after your banishment!" I exclaimed. He was still faced away from me, he looked calm and collected unaffected by my words. "Your just going to stand there and say nothing! I bent over backwards for you, proving my love fixing your reputation. Fixing your mistakes!" I screamed. He turned and faced me he no longer looked calm and collected. He looked frustrated and hurt.

"I never asked you to do that! I never asked for your help. I never wanted or needed your help." He exclaimed.

I felt hurt by his words. I felt the tears starting to well in my eyes, "Are you saying you don't even apricate my help?" He said nothing. All of the sudden I was angry again. "I hate you! Be a coward and run away for all I care. Without me your what? A traitor to the fire nation and a fugitive?"

"I don't know what you want me to say." He whispered. He walked off and I never saw him again until 2 weeks later.

I woke up to the sound of my door being opened. I jumped out of bed and opened the curtain to reveal who it was. It was Zuko.

"What are you doing here? You don't talk to me for two weeks now all the sudden your in my room in the middle of the night! Who do you you think you are?" I said sharply. He was wearing all black with a mask and hood. really does no good because you can still see him in the full moon. I look down and in his left hand is a scroll rolled perfectly wrapped in a red ribbon with a nicely knotted bow.

"I'm sorry..I have to do this." He set the scroll on the desk and ran out of the room. I ran out after him.

I chased him all over town. He was trying to escape me but I wouldn't let him. I didn't understand what was happening. Was he running away? I cried and yelled out for him. I just wanted to talk. And I didn't want to yell this time I didn't want to get angry. I never meant to hurt Zuko. I still love him so incredibly much. I don't understand why we won't except my help, why he keeps running away from me. I continue running after him until we reach the docks outside the city.

"Please just talk to me!" I pleaded

"You wouldn't understand. The avatar is alive. I don't want to be around when the news gets around."

"That's really what your worried about?"

He looks at me, his eyes start tearing up. "Do you know what my father would do to me? He already disowned me once. I have made so many mistakes, I am an embarrassment to him! To our family! To the royal name!" He yelled. I could hear the hurt and the fear in his voice. It made my heat feel heavy. I just wanted to give him a hug.

"I have to kill the avatar. For my honor." He looked at me with tears in eyes. But after hearing him say that all my empathy washed away with the roaring waves that were crashing against the dock. I hate it when Zuko talks about his honor. His destiny. It fills me with rage that he lets his family dictate his path.

"Your honor!?" I shouted. I started stomping toward him. "Shut up with this honor thing! This is not your destiny! You understand what killing the avatar would do to the world? Of course you don't understand! Your running away because your afraid! Not because you feel the need to restore you honor." I grabbed the collar of shirt and pulled him to me and looked at him. My face filled with frustration and disappointment.

"You know what maybe I am afraid! Maybe I'm afraid my father will burn me to death this time! I am always the fool! I am looked down upon every single day! I am a fraud. I am not the great prince I am destined to be." He started to sob.

"Your going to throw everything we had away because your afraid? I'm here for you always, always Zuko. Please let me help you. Please don't run away from me." I started to cry too. It breaks my heart hearing him cry.

"I'm not the man you need. You need someone strong and who can protect you. Your right. Last time we talked, I am a coward. I'm running away from my problems and I don't want to accept the help that's offered to me."

"Zuko.. your are more than enough for me. I can't imagine myself with anyone but you. It's like you were put on this earth for me. Please! You don't have to go through this alone. You don't have to go through anything alone! Just please don't leave me!" I clung onto him and sobbed hysterically like a child. But in that moment my heart was being torn right out my chest.

"I'm sorry.. I love you." He didn't look at me, nor did he hug me back. He gently pushed me off and started boarding a boat. I couldn't believe it. He just walked away. He said I love you but did he even mean it? He didn't even look at me.

"So that's it?! Your just going to leave? After everything we've been through? Zuko Please!" I cried out to him. I begged on my knees even and pleaded but none of my efforts were enough to make him stay. I watched him disappear into the night. The walk home was depressing. It was raining, my pajamas were soaking wet and the smell of wet concrete and metal filled the air. I made my way home in the dark following the line of street lamps that have been extinguished from the rain. When I got home I sat on the edge my bed staring at the neatly tied scrolled placed on the table. I pick it up. I read it.

"My dear love, I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. But this is the only way I can find my own destiny. Everything you have taught me about life I will cherish forever. Our memories I will cherish forever. Don't think because I am leaving means I don't love you. Because I love you very dearly. You encouraged and inspired me in so many different ways. I will be back for you. Someday I won't need your help. I am tired of finding the strength to keep going here. I am tired of being ridiculed and silenced. I wouldn't have made it any longer staying here. Please try to understand. I want to be strong so I can help you. And be strong for you. I have thought of you every single day since I have met you and I will continue to think of you."

I cried for the rest of the night.

#atla zuko #fire lord zuko #zuko #prince zuko #zuko fanfic #atla fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar zuko #atla #zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #oneshot #x reader #angst

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heliads · 11 months

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now you see me daniel atlas x reader where reader kinda volunteered to be a prop in a trick but atlas becomes super shy and stutters? I love me some shy men

loving your 'i love me some shy men.' speak on that anon

masterlist

Honestly, you never really thought you’d swing this. It’s one thing to talk about the Four Horsemen, sure, it’s all anyone wants to do these days, but it’s something else entirely to actually make it to one of their shows. Tickets sell out within minutes, it’s practically inhuman.

You’ve heard rumors that the Horsemen control who gets seats at their show to make their tricks work better, which makes your presence here even more exciting. Somewhere, somehow, you were meant to be at this very show. You were intended to head over to the venue with your giggling friends, you were supposed to sit in your exact chair, and above all, you were divinely ordained to watch pure spectacle unfold before your eyes tonight.

Maybe magic and fate aren’t that far off after all. The Four Horsemen have evidently decided to take your future into their hands tonight. It’s something fascinating, to be sure, a sort of excitement that makes your stomach spin with anticipation as you find your aisle with mounting thrill.

Truth be told, it didn’t feel real until you were walking into the performance hall. Like, yeah, you somehow managed to get your tickets, and you’ll absolutely be holding on to your paper stub until the day you die, but it wasn’t certain. Not until you were sitting down, looking with wide eyes at the stage and seats around you like you’ll be able to spot the answer to all the tricks just by keeping your gaze strong and discerning. Maybe something would happen to pull everything away just before it started.

Goodness knows you’ve been extra careful as of late, just in case. No legs will be broken, no ankles twisted, and the chance of you losing your ticket was small but terrifying. You’ve been checking transportation schedules hours in advance, just in case, and you were fully prepared to call an Uber if something really didn’t work out.

It all went your way, though, and now you’re watching the lights dim around you. This is it, then. The show of shows, what you’ve been waiting for for ages and is now finally yours. They’re saying that the Four Horsemen are going to be the pinnacle of live entertainment for this decade at least, and when the quartet of magicians appear on the stage out of nowhere, you’re inclined to believe them. This is something altogether different than anything you’ve ever experienced before.

The show starts off like most of the Horsemen’s performances do– according to the articles you’ve had the chance to read, at least. They’ll do a few tricks, get the crowd excited, then they’ll start looking to the audience and that’s when things get really interesting. Jack Wilder does a few card tricks, Henley appears and disappears out of seemingly thin air, and then it’s Daniel Atlas’ time to go, and you lean forward slightly in your seat.

You know he’ll be interesting, that’s for sure. Of all of the performers that make up the Four Horsemen, Daniel is the only one that you’d heard of before. You’ve Googled his tricks before, watched grainy videos people took of his street shows before he joined the three other magicians and finally made it big. You’ve never been able to figure out how he did anything, not that you were looking all that closely at his hands.

No, you were, admittedly, a little more interested in the bright blue eyes flashing whenever someone fell for his tricks, the swoop of russet hair he kept irritably combing back. You’re not going to go so far as to say it was a celebrity crush, but. You know cute when you see it.

Sure enough, once Henley finishes off her performance to the thunderous applause of the audience, Atlas claps once to get everyone’s attention back on him, then announces that he’ll actually be needing a volunteer from the audience for his next trick.

One of your friends elbows you in the side. “You should totally raise your hand.”

“Really?” You ask.

“Absolutely!” She laughs. “I mean, this is your one chance to get him to notice you, right?”

You roll your eyes, but grin and do as suggested. After all, getting the chance to go up on that stage and actually have Daniel Atlas look you in the eyes would be nothing short of extraordinary. So, knowing there’s no chance he’ll actually look out and see your hand among the scores of other waving palms in this crowded room, you raise your arm, just because you can.

It’s ridiculous, the odds of actually getting picked for something like this. Hundreds of people all practically dragging each other down just for the possibility of one of the Horsemen seeing them, and you think you’ll be the one they see as opposed to anyone, anyone else.

The Four Horsemen thrive on ridiculous chances, though. Impossibility is their best habit. Somehow, Merritt McKinney turns directly at you and points.

“You,” he says, “Come up here. Yeah, you, the one I’m looking at.”

You rise slowly, as if in a dream, and, when no one stops you, walk up to the stage. It feels insane to be taking the stairs and then stepping up onto the raised platform, looking around at all the people staring back at you. Merritt heads over with a grin, whispering in your ear that he hopes stage fright isn’t an issue with you. When you shake your head, he gestures for you to walk over to Daniel, who’s waiting with an outstretched hand.

You take it with a smile. “Thanks for having me.”

“Yeah,” he says a little quickly, “yeah, thanks for coming. Really.”

He doesn’t say anything else for a moment or two, not even about his trick. Merritt coughs pointedly behind him. “Would you like to ask the lovely young lady her name?”

Daniel’s eyes widen and he straightens up in a hurry. “Yes, yes. Sorry about that. What is your name?”

“I’m Y/N,” you tell him, “Y/N L/N.”

The crowd roars its approval, but Daniel doesn’t seem to notice them for a second. Funny, for someone who’s been performing for massive audiences this long, it’s like he’s almost forgotten what it is that he’s there to do.

Merritt walks behind you, mumbling something to you about how he always picks pretty girls for these sorts of things because it makes Atlas lose his mind. You laugh at that, and if you weren’t sure that Daniel wasn’t hopeless for you before, he’s absolutely gone now. Jack has to come up and tap his shoulder before he remembers to carry on with the introduction for the trick.

Your volunteer opportunity is actually pretty exciting, as if you’d expect anything less. Daniel invites you to step into a glass case just a few inches taller than you, then shatters the entire thing to smithereens to the shock of the audience, all with you locked inside. You’re fine, of course, and step out of a cloud of blue smoke to the delight of the onlookers just a few minutes later after Daniel gets everyone to chant the necessary ‘magic words’ as loudly as they can.

Daniel takes your hand again the second you’re back in sight, raising it to the sky as if you’ve won a boxing round. “Can we hear it for Y/N L/N, our disappearing girl?”

Under the cover of the cheers, he turns to you, whispers something so you’re the only one who can hear. “Meet me after the show? Please?”

When you nod, he smiles like a schoolboy, and it takes the combined efforts of Merritt and Jack to get him to focus on the script for their performance, even after you’ve walked off stage and settled back in your seat once more.

Your friends are cheering when you get back to your place. “Did you see Atlas?” One of your friends laughs, “He was totally smitten. Like, totally. He couldn’t stop staring at you.”

You stare at her incredulously. “Really? I mean, I thought so, but I wasn’t sure. It was probably just a part of the performance, though.”

“No way,” your friend says derisively, “I’ve never seen someone more head over heels. You can’t fake something like that, not even if you’re a world famous magician.”

Your friend is right, as it turns out. Once the Four Horsemen disappear from sight to the tumultuous applause, you and your friends head out to the lobby, all eagerly discussing the magic you’d just seen before your very eyes. As you’re about to leave, though, you spot someone waiting in the shadows, near the backstage entrance. Daniel Atlas, just as promised.

You tell your friends to go on without you, ignoring their knowing looks when you start heading Daniel’s way. His eyes light up again when he sees you heading over.

“I was hoping you’d wait around,” he admits when you’re close enough to hear him over the chatter of the departing audience.

“Well, I promised, didn’t I?” You say lightly.

He smiles bashfully. “I wanted to apologize for being so, uh, distracted during the show. See, Merritt likes to play this joke on me by trying to find people who’ll pull my focus, and it’s never affected me like this before, not before you, but–”

You just laugh. “Don’t worry about it, honestly. He kind of told me as much back on stage.”

“Really?” Daniel asks, somewhat horrified.

“It’s fine,” you tell him, “Honestly, I’m going to take it as a compliment. Not every girl gets to say that one of the Four Horsemen thought they were pretty, right?”

“No other girls,” Daniel says on impulse. “Really, it was– it was just you. Promise.”

You smile. “Does that mean I’m special, Daniel Atlas?”

“Very. Special enough to give me your number, maybe?” He asks hopefully.

“I’d say so,” you grin.

Daniel hands over his phone and you input your name and number. He pockets it with a relieved laugh, and is just about to head away when you realize that you don’t have his number.

When you point this out to him, Daniel just smiles. “Actually, I think you do.”

Someone calls his name in earnest now, and he has to head away with copious apologies. When you go to check your phone, you realize that a piece of paper has been stuck in your pocket without your knowledge. When you pull it out, it’s a business card for a coffee shop down the block. A date and time has been scrawled on it, with messy handwriting asking if you’d be so kind as to meet him again. As promised, Daniel’s phone number is at the bottom, next to a carefully drawn heart.

You smile to yourself as you tuck the card back inside your pocket. Looks like you’ve got some excitement in your life after all. The only thing it took was one bit of magic.

now you see me tag list: @mayfieldss

#daniel atlas #daniel atlas imagines #daniel atlas x reader #daniel atlas oneshot #now you see me #now you see me imagines #now you see me x reader #now you see me oneshot #now you see me daniel #now you see me daniel imagines #now you see me daniel x reader #now you see me daniel oneshot

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wildwallflower24 · 5 months

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Me waiting excitedly for my favorite author to post the fic I requested

(But also patiently because I respect that fic writing takes time and that authors have lives outside of Tumblr)

(Seriously though I love and respect every fic author on tumblr, and I hope you’re all having a wonderful day)

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musicalgraveyard · 7 months

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A night after Karaoke

Aang x Reader Modern AU (Characters aged up) #Fluff #Smoking #Drinking #Drugs? #LightDom #Lust #Blindfolded Word Count: 1,803 Please reblog instead of sharing. Enjoy!

The group of young adults exited the Karaoke bar and enter the parking lot, grouping together by their cars. You all concluded your conversations and were planning to leave, putting an end to the night. "I'm gonna head home guys, good night." You said as you resigned from the group. "Ya ready, Suki?" Sokka asked his girlfriend. "Sure, goodnight, guys!" She waved to Aang and Zuko. "Alright, see ya tomorrow. Katara, Toph, let's go." Sokka concluded, giving Aang a fist bump and waving to Zuko. "Uhh, Sokka, I'm actually going with Zuko tonight." Katara said. "Alright." Katara’s brother couldn't say anything. His sister was an adult and could make her own choices.

Zuko and Katara said their goodbyes, and headed for Zuko’s car, as Aang went to his. Sokka left the parking lot first as Zuko followed, leaving Aang the last to leave. Instead of going towards his apartment, he turned the opposite direction.

You were walking down the sidewalk in the dark evening. Your legs felt fuzzy, and you wore a pleasant smile on your face from the alcohol you had consumed during your night out. A white car came up beside you and was matching your pace. The windows were down, and a voice spoke out, "Did you want some company on your way home?" The familiar voice asked in a relaxed manor. You stopped walking and his car copied the action. "Sure," you blushed, then entered the laid-back atmosphere of Aang’s car. The 2 mixed drinks and 2 shots gave you immense euphoria and happiness.

On the ride home Aang had music on to add to the nice vibe that paired well with the alcohol and you two chatted about your time out with the group. He pulled off to the side of the road in front of your apartment, putting the car in park. He turned the car off to signify he wanted to have a little more time with you before he left. You shifted in your seat, leaning back into the fabrics. There was silence between the two of you. Aang stared at you in his lightly intoxicated state, admiring your features that he could see as the street lights shown in through the windows. "You know, you're a really sweet guy, Aang." His lips crashed into yours when you turned your head to face him, causing you to mutter a soft moan from the unexpected impact. He pulled away from the kiss, lust lacing his face. As he opened his eyes, he realized what he did. “I’m so sorry (y/n), I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me…” Aang rambled on apologizing looking around trying to explain himself. As you came back to reality, you blushed hard and couldn’t help but smile. "Did you wanna come in and hang out?" You offered him into your home. Aang wore shock and surprise all over his face. "Sure." He shyly musted in almost a whisper. You and Aang exited the car and entered your apartment, removing your shoes at the foyer level and dropping your jacket on the couch. You picked up the remote and tossed it to Aang as he sat down.

You went off and grabbed something stashed away as Aang flipped to a music channel, allowing you two room to talk. On the coffee table in front of the couch, you placed a small bong, a glass jar with cannabis in it, as well as a grinder and a lighter. You began opening the jar and placing the herb into the grinder, going to work for the smokable product. You opened her up and pinched the ground substance, placing it in the right location on the bong. After this, you picked it up, put the rim to your lips, with lighter in hand. Aang watched all this as the alcohol from his two shots and his mixed drink worked on his mind and body, settling him down again after the incident in the car. He followed the glass rim to your lips as they softly parted and pressed against it. He traced your face with his eyes, yet again admiring your beauty in the mildly lit apartment.

The lighter was struck, igniting a spark. The flame was drawn to the herb as you pulled the air through. Thick white smoke began to fill the glass, bubbling up through the water and into your mouth. Your smooth lips pulled away from the glass and you blew out a cloud of smoke. The aroma grazed Aangs nose. "Do you wanna try?" You motioned the device to him. "I've never smoked before," he informed, hesitating to take it from you. “I think you’ll be alright, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Aang was curious about the effects and wanted to feel what you were feeling too. You knew he was contemplating it, so you decided to take another hit while he made up his mind. The boy motioned for the bong and lighter, soon repeating your steps and inhaling the smoke. Before he could blow out the smoke, he coughed violently, causing a laugh to escape your lips. He had taken too big of a hit for his first time.

After he had cleared his lungs, you handed him a bottle of water you grabbed from the kitchen. He took a swig, and you took another hit. “Here, let me help you this time.” You said, turning the mouth piece to face the boy before you. He put his lips up to the rim again and began to suck in as you lit the herb again. After the flower seared for two or three second, you pulled the removable piece that held the weed and allowed for Aang to clear the smoke from the glass pipe. “Now blow,” the words rolled of your tongue, and he did as he was told. “Better?” You beamed and Aang smiled at you in response, “yeah.” The two of you finished off the bowl and listened to the music.

Aang felt the effects from the ganja mix with the alcohol and it felt good. The feeling of relaxation hung high in the air, as the excitement from the new experience settled. You noticed this as Aang leaned back into the couch. You guys relaxed a few minutes listening to music before Aang started.

“You’re so cool, ya know (y/n).” Your chuckle made him turn his head and smile to you. “It’s true, really.” He said sincerely. “Oh, and why do you think that?” “Well, for starters your fun, you like to enjoy life and are always surprising me. You make me laugh, like at karaoke when you were singing those songs and acting goofy. The way you sang that one song was beautiful though. You’re really smart too! I overheard one of the professors talking and they said that you were the only one in your (insert) class that passed the mid term finals and the class!” You blushed softly, hearing the boy say such nice things about you. “What else?” You asked curiously, seeing what else he had to say. “Well, you’re a really good person. Your there for your friends when they need someone to turn to,” Aangs smile faded a little, “like when I found out about Katara and Zuko.” Aang’s expression showed that he was still hurt from the situation, but you were silent because you didn’t know what to say. After a moment of silence, Aang smiled again concluding his thoughts. “And your really pretty too, (y/n).”

Your eyes made contact. Aang smiled sincerely and lovingly at you, as you blushed harder and turned your gaze down to the hymn of your shirt, as you fiddled with it. “What about me?” Aang asked how you felt about him, but noticed your eyes widen a little as your blush didn’t go away. He reposition himself on the couch, now sitting up with his leg under his body, now facing you. Ditching the original question, he asked a different one, “Do you trust me?” “Of course!” you shot back quickly. Aang hummed pleasantly and looked down before looking back up at you.

He got up from the couch and walked over to your bed in your personal area of the apartment, and grabbed the pillow from your bed, removing it from its case. He came back over to you on the couch and sat in his previous position. “Can you prove it?” He questioned slyly. (Y/n) looked down at the pillow case that he had creased onto itself, laying in Aangs hands. She looked back up at him. “Okay.” The word fell from her lips softly. She didn’t know what he had planned up his sleeve.

Aang smiled and placed the pillow case over her eyes and tied it in the back. “Its not too tight right?" "No." "And you can’t see anything right?” “No.” Aang loved hearing her soft voice; especially in this moment, it was so sweet. He got up off the couch, taking her hand in his. “Come on.” He helped her up and navigated her through her apartment, “Watch your step.” Aang walked her over to her bed and had her sit down. “Here,” he stated aimlessly before you felt an arm across your back and the other snake under your thighs. He lifted you bridal style before softly dropping you back down on the comforter in the middle of the bed. A small gasp escaped your lips and Aang chuckled. “You trust me right?” He asked again. You nodded your head.

You felt cool air graze your skin as the hymn of your shirt was pulled up, Aang’s hand going under the fabric. His warm skin rubbed across your abdomen, before he began to straddle you. He admired your soft skin, looking down onto your figure. Your cheeks were burning hot as you ever so slightly arched your back, yearning for more of his touch.

His endearing smile graced his handsome features before he removed his hand. He sat still for a moment, examining you to see what more you would do and how you would respond in this predicament. But you laid still.

His long pale fingers brushed the few strands of hair out of your face before resting easily on your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin ever so gently. Aang blushed as he looked down onto your perfect features. His thumb strolled over the corner of your bottom lip as he slowly closed his eyes inching closer, closer, closer…

His soft lips rested on yours, his arms on either side above your shoulders. He pulled away slowly, leaving a space as thin as paper between the two of you.

“(Y/N)?” he asked barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Aang?” you responded.

“I think I love you…”

#Aang x Reader #Reader Insert #ATLA #Fluff #Mushquinas Works #Oneshot #Aang x y/n #Aang #xReader #Aang 18+

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aquaquadrant · 1 year

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from eden, part V

Word count: 13,626

Warnings: Violence, strong language, mild body horror, blood/injury, death, emotional and physical abuse, manipulation, unreliable narrator, shipping (nothing explicit, just kissing and suggestive implications), grooming (non-sexual)

Summary: Following Tango’s escape from Hels Tek, head scientist Atlas finds himself in hot water. With his sponsors unhappy and his scientists’ faith shaken, the situation quickly spirals into a full-on nose dive, and he suddenly faces losing everything he’s spent decades building. But fate is a funny thing, and after receiving help from an unexpected place, Atlas just might discover that some things do, in fact, happen for a reason.

A/N: WELP I did it again. This oneshot has to get split into two because Atlas’s ego wouldn’t leave enough room for another POV (he needed over 13k to himself, greedy bastard). So, the next one will pick up right after this and will hopefully be out in a timely manner (no promises ofc). Here’s a link to read the previous parts of the au and all the other info!

Note that there are some Helsmits in this, but there are also lots of random OCs/NPCs in the background. They’re not important, they’re just there to help fill up the Hels roster. And ofc, Atlas himself isn’t supposed to be the Hels of anyone we know, he’s purely an OC. Hope y’all enjoy, please reblog if you do! This was a labor of love so it’d really mean a lot <3 - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part V - to the strand, a picnic plan for you and me

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player just woke up to very bad news.

“Drowned?” Dr. Atlas Syn, head scientist of Hels Tek Laboratories, demands furiously as he leaps out of bed. “How could he have possibly drowned?!”

(An addendum: he’s not leaping out of his actual bed. Rather, he sleeps on a 2x2 pad of moss, the softest substitute for wool available. His real bed is hidden deep beneath his feet, within an obsidian safe room that’s fully stocked with armor, weapons, food, and whatever other resources he might need in the event of his untimely demise.

Owning a bed is a prestigious thing. Not all players are well-off or well-connected enough to obtain a bed from the scarce wool merchants in Hels, all of whom guard their rare sheep fiercely. Instead, most players utilize respawn anchors to set their spawns, as the materials required to craft one are far easier to come by than wool.

The only players who are aware of the bed’s existence are Atlas himself and the man who gave it to him, and that’s how Atlas likes to keep it. If certain enemies or rivals of his were to discover his bed, them breaking it is the least of his concerns.

It’s a privilege to own a bed, allowing him to bypass the thousands of blocks of treacherous terrain he’d have to travel if he died, but it’s also a great risk. Setting one’s spawn via bed or anchor doesn’t allow for the same protection as afforded by the default world spawn and its anti-griefing perimeter. Knowing the location of a player’s spawn allows for the deployment of traps- the longest death loop Atlas has ever seen lasted a solid month, and only ended because someone got fed up enough with the constant death messages to free the poor chump.

Anyways, this is all besides the point. Atlas leaps out of ‘bed.’)

“We aren’t sure, sir,” the player cowering in front of him says. Some new intern, Atlas thinks, which is probably why he was the one chosen to inform Atlas of this unpleasant development. “But there appear to be bloodstains on the inside of the farm-”

“Where is he now?” Atlas cuts him off, pulling up his communicator. It takes a bit of scrolling through all the usual random death messages to find it: Tango drowned.

He curses himself for having his notifications silenced. But really, who doesn’t? Death messages are so numerous in Hels, the constant beeping would be intolerable. Not to mention it would be a dead giveaway- pun intended- in any situation that required stealth or discretion.

“We don’t know, sir,” the intern says with a wince.

“How long ago did this happen?”

“We don’t know, sir.”

“Who last checked the respawn anchor?”

“We don’t-”

“Okay, let’s try this,” Atlas says, pinching the bridge of his nose even as a grin splits across his face. “How about you tell me what you do know, and we stop wasting time?”

The intern straightens his back. “The incident was discovered when myself and Drs. Riposte, Ironclad, and Heligan arrived this morning. There’s no evidence of a break-in, everything outside the farm is completely intact. The only damage to the enclosure itself is the chains, they’ve been snapped near the shackles- probably due to respawn. No one was awake when it happened, but the last person to clock out last night was Dr. Clear Cut, at 0200.”

Of course. Atlas isn’t surprised; Clear doesn’t know the meaning of a twelve-hour work day. What’s more surprising is that the mad doctor actually remembered to clock out this time. “Has anyone questioned him yet?” Atlas asks, grabbing his lab coat off its hook.

“No, sir,” the intern says. “But security is fetching him now, they’re bringing him to the farm.”

“Very good.” Atlas gives a short nod, pulling his lab coat on before swiftly exiting the room. The intern jogs to catch up, falling into step beside him. “Assemble the rest of the staff in conference room A1,” Atlas orders. “I’ll be in to speak with them once I’ve finished with Dr. Clear.”

“Yes, sir.”

Atlas abruptly stops walking, whirling around to loom over the intern. “And this probably goes without saying, but I do not want word of this escaping the premises,” he says, his tone dangerously light, a smile through gritted teeth. “Do you understand?”

The intern nods frantically. “Yes sir, Dr. Atlas.”

“Very good.” Atlas turns away. “Thank you, that will be all.”

The intern’s rapid footsteps fade off down the hallway, allowing Atlas to continue alone.

It’s a short walk to the lab. Atlas is once again thankful that he decided to have employee housing built so close to the actual laboratory.

(Every now and then, new hires complain about having to live on the premises, reluctant to leave their own bases behind. But it saves so much time, and he placates them by allowing them to decorate their rooms however they see fit- within reason, of course- and by giving them ample time-off to make trips away from the premises- which he gradually decreases over a matter of months.

Eventually, they accept that they don’t have time for a life outside of Hels Tek, and then things run much more smoothly.)

Atlas comes to a stop in front of the lab’s main entrance, pressing the button that opens the iron doors. He enters into a short hallway that leads to a piston door, casting a quick glance around himself before entering in the combination to open it.

(The laboratory’s design is quite clever, if he does say so himself. All the outer walls of the facility are four blocks thick- the exterior and interior decorative blocks, and then two blocks of cobblestone in the middle. They’re part of an anti-break-in system; an infinite piston tape and cobblestone generator combo that will replace any block that’s mined away, faster than even the best enchanted netherite pickaxe can break them.

Although evidently, all the clever designing in the world cannot account for the stupidity of players. What good is a facility that can’t be broken into if their one prisoner was able to break out?

Even as he’s thinking about what next steps he should take and how best to minimize the fallout, part of his mind is pondering how they ended up in this situation in the first place, running through rapid-fire scenarios. He’s realized that for Tango to spawn outside of the farm, the respawn anchor must’ve been drained of charge. That’s not something that happens overnight- this is clearly the result of ongoing negligence, and he cringes to think how this might reflect on him personally, as head of Hels Tek.

Ah, but he’s let his train of thought get away from him again. He can worry about these things after he has his property back.)

Atlas’s footsteps are wholly automatic as he makes his way through the lab, towards the chamber where the Tango Tek farm is located. Stopping in front of the door, he fishes a slip of paper out of his lab coat pocket- his ID- and drops it into a dispenser embedded in the wall. The security system reads his paper and then spits it back out, the door swinging open for him.

Atlas steps inside, and the door locks shut behind him.

The room is empty save for three people; two security guards standing on either side of a scientist, hunched over in a chair as he works on a redstone component. His curly mustache is more unkempt than usual, the facial hair positively frayed at its edges. The man must’ve been woken abruptly, for although he’s wearing his lab coat (stained and wrinkled, as always) his shirt is partially unbuttoned and he’s not wearing a tie.

Atlas clears his throat. “Good morning, Dr. Clear.”

“Mornin’,” Clear replies automatically, not even glancing up from the comparator he’s fiddling with. His thick accent is even rougher in the early morning, a slurred drawl that never fails to get on Atlas’s nerves.

Atlas disregards him for a brief moment to stride over to the farm, the small glass enclosure against the opposite wall of the room. As promised, it’s largely intact and untouched- the only differences are the black bloodstains smeared against the glass, the snapped chains hanging from the sides, and the complete and utter absence of a blaze hybrid inside. As expected, the respawn anchor fitted into the wall has gone dark; out of charge.

Atlas turns back to Clear. “You were the last one at the lab this past evening, is that right?” he asks, neatly folding his hands behind his back.

“Right, sure,” Clear mutters absent-mindedly. “Got a lotta work t’do, you know. Ain’t gonna do itself. Gotta be perfect.”

“Of course,” Atlas replies smoothly. Normally he wouldn’t tolerate such inattentiveness, but he’s long since learned to pick his battles with Clear. “Before you left, do you recall if Tango Tek was still functioning properly?”

“Who?” Clear asks, unbothered.

“Tango Tek, the blaze farm,” Atlas emphasizes, managing to keep his tone slow and patient. “Was the blaze hybrid still inside it when you left?”

“Blaze?” Clear frowns, one greasy, redstone-stained hand coming up to twirl his mustache. “No, no, no, I don’t work with blaze,” he chatters, more to himself than anything. “Don’t do a lotta damage, them blaze. I’m more of a TNT-duper myself. World eaters, y’know, that sorta thing-”

“Dr. Clear,” Atlas says calmly, stepping forward, “might I have your undivided attention for a moment?” He reaches out and grabs Clear none-too-gently by the chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze. “I’m asking if you remember seeing the blaze hybrid, Tango Tek, inside his farm before you left the lab last night.”

Finally, finally, clarity sparks in Clear’s bloodshot eyes. “Oh. I suppose he was, yeah,” he says with a shrug.

Atlas leans in closer, close enough to smell the potion of swiftness on Clear’s breath (and thank the universe for that, because otherwise the man would probably be comatose). “Did you see anyone or anything out of the ordinary before you left for the night?”

Clear snorts. “Ordinary. Who decides that, huh?” Just like that, his gaze is clouded again as he starts rambling. “What’s ordinary to one person might be extraordinary to another, y’know. After all, everythin’ is relative, innit?”

Atlas sighs. “Indeed.” Releasing his grip, he steps back.

He never truly suspected that Clear had anything to do with Tango’s escape- the man’s mind is too fragmented to concoct a plot like that- but he’d been hoping Clear would have some sort of useful information for him. Evidently, it was too high of a hope.

“Go prep the flying machines,” he orders. “After I debrief the rest of the staff, I’ll be taking a team over to spawn to correct this little mishap.”

Clear gives a faint nod, already having turned his attention back to his comparator. “Right, sure. Just lemme finish this last-”

“Now please, Dr. Clear,” Atlas says firmly.

Clear heaves a sigh, sliding out of his chair. “Alright, alright…” He straightens his back with a loud pop before immediately reverting to his horribly hunched posture. “Flyin’ machines, right… where, exactly, can I find them?”

Atlas snaps his fingers at the security guards. “Do make sure he gets there, won’t you?”

The two players quickly nod and usher Clear out of the room. Atlas takes one final look at the empty farm before departing.

~*~

It doesn’t take long for Atlas to get everyone caught up to speed.

Hels Tek isn’t as large an operation as one might presume based on their reputation. Their numbers include fifteen scientists (including Clear and himself), ten security guards (including the two currently babysitting Clear), and two interns (for the time being).

All of them gathered in an average-sized conference room during an emergency might’ve been cause for a headache, if not for Atlas’s tight leadership. They await his instructions in stony silence, masking the nerves they must surely be feeling. Once he informs them of the situation, there isn’t a second spared for outrage or disbelief or panic- they simply ask what to do next.

They don’t have a protocol in place for this sort of emergency (an oversight on Atlas’s part, he’ll admit) but every one of his scientists is used to rolling with the punches. He quickly divides them into teams; one to search the entire lab top to bottom in case Tango simply respawned outside the enclosure and has hidden himself somewhere, one to form a perimeter around the premises to steer away any happenstance visitors, and one to accompany Atlas to the world spawn, where Tango most likely ended up after his death.

Atlas takes most of the security force with him as well, because even with flying machines, the journey to world spawn is long and dangerous. Every second spent chugging along through the smoke-filled air feels like an eternity, making Atlas quite aware of the invisible timeline closing down on him.

The longer Tango is free of Hels Tek, the greater the risk of him slipping away forever. And even worse, the greater the chance of Hels Tek’s sponsors catching wind of this disaster.

(There’s one in particular that Atlas shudders to think about discovering his blunder.)

For the most part, their formation of flying machines is left alone. Hels Tek is well known in this area, and has earned its reputation for dealing with troublemakers severely. Every now and then, they do get arrows sent their way, from bold (and stupid) players hidden amongst the landscape. There are also a couple close calls with ghasts, the monsters spawning out of nowhere in a burst of fireballs and demonic screeching.

But it’s nothing they can’t handle. The security guards make quick work of mob and player alike with their own volley of arrows. Those Power V crossbows pack quite the punch, reminding Atlas how nice it is to have wealthy sponsors.

Which he might lose, if he can’t recapture their blaze farm.

Eventually, the biomes start to give way to the horrendous moth-eaten terrain of the outer spawn chunks. It’s barren as always, with no signs of life amongst the patchwork of holes. Once the actual world spawn is in view, the pristine natural landscape, Atlas signals for the fleet to stop. Flying machines can enter the anti-griefing perimeter around spawn, but if they stall or get stuck for whatever reason, there’s no removing blocks, so they’ll be floating up in the air forever.

Which isn’t the end of the world, but it’s a meaningless waste of resources that Atlas would prefer to avoid if possible.

Fishing his water bucket out of his inventory, Atlas slides off the side of his flying machine. His stomach lurches as he drops, placing the water down just before he lands to negate any fall damage. Straightening up, he scoops the water back into the bucket and puts it away.

“We go on foot from here,” Atlas announces, as the rest of the search party follows suit. “Keep your eyes peeled, he could be hiding anywhere.”

“Yes, sir!” comes the chorus.

Traveling becomes considerably more difficult at that point, dodging holes every two steps. But soon enough, they reach the start of the spawn radius. Using the stone they’ve brought with them, they stack up to ascend the squat, sheer cliffs left behind by players long ago, digging for blocks the second they were out of the anti-griefing perimeter.

(Hels is ancient. By the time Atlas spawned into existence, the world already looked much like this, and has changed very little in the years since- as best he can tell as someone who seldom visits spawn, anyways.

But he remembers the day he spawned in. He remembers toddling over towards the cliffs on short, unsteady legs and dropping off the side, the painful crack of fall damage, his first damage, rattling through his feet. He remembers a sudden urge overtaking him, an instinct written into his very code, to start digging and gathering resources. And he remembers taking his tiny fists to the nearest block, an oak plank, only to find it’d been left by some other player to plug up a one-block hole that went all the way down to bedrock.

That wasn’t a fun fall.

He had to wonder, why would a player even bother to plug up a single hole in that disaster zone? It wasn’t as if anyone who’d respawned would have wooden planks on them, or a way to gather them, so it must’ve been someone coming to spawn instead of trying to escape from it. And so he’d decided, with all his two minutes of life experience, that it must’ve been done deliberately to trick someone, newly respawned and desperate for resources, into falling down that hole.

Just like he did.

That was also the moment he resolved to never let himself be outsmarted again.)

Atlas hops to the ground within the spawn radius just in time to see a dark shape flying up one of the netherrack mountains surrounding spawn. Before he can blink, it vanishes into the cliffside- probably into a hidden cave.

Well. Atlas had been hoping to find Tango here (even a respawn won’t have been enough to return him to full strength right away so he can’t have gotten far), but perhaps he’s found a witness.

“Fan out around the perimeter,” he says over his shoulder, as the rest of the group pull themselves up onto the level ground. “I think I see someone who might be able to help us out.”

“Yes, sir!”

Atlas approaches the mountain at a leisurely pace, arms folded behind his back. He comes to a stop at the foot of the cliff and looks up, allowing a wide grin to spread across his face. “Yoo hoo, hello up there!” he calls.

Silence, unsurprisingly.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I just need to ask you a couple questions,” he continues, voice cheery. “I can come to you if you want, we’ve got flying machines. It’d be no trouble at all.”

It’s a very clear threat, shoddily wrapped under the guise of politeness. And it seems to do the trick- a figure slowly creeps over the edge of the cliff, peering down at him.

The player isn’t very imposing; he’s pale and scrawny, practically emaciated, with big, hollow eyes. He’s an avian hybrid of some kind, black wings just barely visible poking over his shoulders. Interesting, but not important at the moment beyond what he can tell Atlas about recent arrivals to spawn.

He doesn’t seem to be wearing any armor, and as such, likely isn’t a spawn camper. Why else a player would hang around spawn, Atlas doesn’t know, but since he fled at their arrival he probably wants to be left alone. That increases the likelihood that he’ll answer Atlas’s questions readily, if only to get rid of them.

“... yes?” comes a soft, but labored, voice.

He sounds quite weak. Atlas’s grin widens. “Do you know if a blaze hybrid respawned here?” he asks. “He would’ve shown in the chat as Tango.”

The player seems to nod- a faint gesture from this distance.

“Wonderful!” Atlas claps his hands together, noting the way the player jolts at the sound. “And did you happen to see which direction he went?”

Slowly, the player lifts one trembling arm to point eastward. “Over… there,” he says, tone wary but seeming genuine. “Haven’t seen… him since…”

Atlas hums, pleased that at least someone is cooperating with him today. “Thank you very much.” He snaps his fingers- immediately, several members of the search party peel off from the group to head east. “Now, have you been at spawn for a while? Do you know how long ago he respawned here?”

The player hesitates. “Not… sure…” It sounds like he’s cringing, afraid of not knowing the answer, so it’s probably not a lie.

“That’s alright,” Atlas assures him, pulling up his communicator. He scrolls through the death messages again when something catches his eye. The first message after Tango’s death; Bravo has joined the game.

The only players that join Hels are children, new-spawns. They can burst into existence at any moment, with no rhyme or reason; sometimes there’ll be ten in a row, and sometimes weeks will go in between. It shouldn’t stand out as unusual… and yet, the names have an odd similarity that won’t leave him alone.

(Already, a part of Atlas’s mind has snatched up the idea like a wolf and ran with it. If the two events are connected- Tango’s death and Bravo’s entrance- then there must be something bigger than random chance going on. If there’s a way for players from other worlds to travel to Hels, and potentially viceversa, then Atlas has to be the first one to know about it.)

“Who’s this Bravo that joined shortly after?” Atlas asks, as casually as he can.

The player’s answer is just as casual, despite the way he sounds as if he’s on death’s door. “Just… a kid.”

“Mm.” Now that Atlas is looking more carefully, he sees an actual message from Bravo, asking for help. That message is promptly followed by several deaths, interspersed amongst the regular deaths of other Hels denizens.

Of course. Just a stupid kid.

(Atlas purges the idea from his mind, embarrassed to have given it any significant thought at all.)

Sighing, Atlas puts his communicator away. “Alright, that will be all. Thank you.” He turns away with a wave, moving to rejoin the search party. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

The player’s response is so faint, Atlas almost misses it.

“... thanks... you… too...”

~*~

Only minutes later, a new message comes through the chat.

AnimosityGaming starved to death.

Well. That explains a lot.

~*~

They don’t stay around spawn very long.

Since the spawn chunk can’t be altered in any way, there’s no possibility that Tango has made himself a hiding place by digging or placing blocks. So after a quick sweep of the area, they move on to the outlying chunks. Searching through these is a more difficult task than it’d seem, because despite the terrain’s barren appearance, there’s an infinite maze of tunnels underground from years of desperate players trying to safely make it out of spawn.

They split into pairs and fan out, searching for hours on foot until Atlas finally calls in the towel, fed up with bumping his head on the two-high ceilings. After ordering everyone back to the flying machines, they continue their search from the air, flying in concentric circles around spawn. Even this method is limited by the terrain- high mountains and low overhangs from the nether ceiling blocking their paths.

(He should’ve let Clear install TNT-launchers on these things.)

As the day wanes on, Atlas grows increasingly frustrated. Tango shouldn’t have been able to get very far from spawn, not in his condition, unless he asked for help. But Atlas knows the blaze hybrid’s mind quite well, and knows that asking for help is the last thing he’d do.

(It’s the last thing any sensible resident of Hels would do.)

So they should’ve found him by now, or he should’ve had another death. Hels is a dangerous place for anyone, even more so for a very weak creature with absolutely no resources to speak of. After spending his last few months in the farm, Tango should barely be able to walk. And yet somehow, he’s managed to evade them, and death itself.

(Atlas would be impressed if he weren’t so infuriated. Clever devil. He’s always privately thought that Tango would’ve been an excellent Hels Tek scientist, if he weren’t spawned as part blaze.)

As a last resort, Atlas swings by the Arena.

It’s been a while since his last visit- he doesn’t make a habit of it. Too chaotic for his tastes. But he knows its recruiters often pick up cannon fodder from spawn, and they’re especially keen on nabbing any kind of ‘exotic’ player for their fights.

The two recruiters that greet him, a cat hybrid and a large zombie player, heartily assure him they haven’t been by spawn lately. They even take him on a tour through the underground cages, where gladiators of all shapes and sizes await their fates. And sure enough, none of them are Tango.

The recruiters promise to let Atlas know if they see him. However, Atlas doesn’t fail to notice the sly look they give each other when he takes his leave. They’ll almost certainly be out to spawn soon, to try and catch Tango for themselves.

Perfect. Just perfect. He’ll have to have someone keep an eye out at the Arena, in case they actually end up finding Tango in the coming days. Normally, he stays informed on the major businesses of Hels through his various sponsors. But that doesn’t work very well when he needs to be informed of something he’s trying to keep from them.

Wouldn’t that be a bad look, for the blaze farm he’d just shown off as part of his big Phase Two proposal to suddenly appear as a new punching bag at the Arena.

In any case, it’s late into the night before Atlas finally gives up the search. The last actual civilization to check nearby is New Helington, and showing up there would be like signing off on his own death warrant. Besides, if Tango was foolish enough to seek refuge in the city, then Atlas will hear about it anyways, and at that point he’s already doomed.

Their ride back to the lab is spent in stony silence. Atlas can tell everyone is wary of his temper- and certainly, there’ll be a time for that- but right now, he’s too preoccupied with figuring out how to fix this. All he wants to do when he gets back to the lab is down a potion of swiftness and pour over all his collected research and data on Tango, in the hopes of finding a way to track him.

But as soon as Hels Tek comes into view, they’re flagged down by a scientist on the ground.

“Dr. Atlas!” FlySpeck calls, her voice tightly wound with nerves. “There’s someone here to see you, says it’s urgent. I tried to tell him you were out but he won’t leave-”

“Who?” Atlas asks, sliding off the flying machine.

“bXMiner.”

Atlas’s stomach sinks.

Whenever Alisker needs to conduct business, he usually does it through some other underling acting as a go-between. It’s not often he sends his right-hand man bXMiner, and when he does, it’s usually a bad sign.

There’s only one thing that could have prompted the visit. “Where is he?”

FlySpeck casts a wary look over her shoulder. “We put him in the lobby to wait.”

“Thank you, I’ll see him now,” Atlas says curtly, brushing past her.

He walks to the lobby at a speed just shy of running- it simply won’t do to be seen running around in a panic at his own lab, but he knows he shouldn’t keep bX waiting. Not because the man is particularly impatient, but because the longer he’s away from Alisker, the more Alisker’s mood will sour. And Atlas has a nasty feeling Alisker is already quite displeased with him.

(Of course Alisker found out. He has eyes everywhere.)

Atlas sweeps into the lobby with the casual presence of a man with nothing to fear and nothing to hide. “Hello, Mr. bX!” he says warmly, as if greeting an old friend instead of a glorified attack dog.

The man waiting on one of the benches looks over at Atlas with a grin. “Hey, man,” he says nonchalantly, rising to his feet.

He doesn’t quite match Atlas’s height, but he’s certainly the bulkier of the two. Broad shouldered and well-muscled, bX is a formidable force. His face, however, is deceptively pleasant, his teal eyes bright and kind. They match the shimmering diamond chestplate he’s wearing over his smart leather ensemble, as well as the trident strapped across his back.

(Atlas isn’t surprised to see it, despite the weapon’s usefulness being somewhat limited out of water. They love using tridents at the Arena, and it seems bX never gave up the habit.)

“Thank you for your patience,” Atlas says smoothly, coming to a stop in front of bX. “I do hope my staff have been accommodating?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” bX assures him. He gives Atlas a knowing look. “Rough day?”

Atlas manages a polite laugh, despite the implication that his appearance and demeanor are visibly haggard. “You could say that. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

bX tilts his head. “You mean you really don’t know why I’m here?” he asks, a playful hum in his voice. He’s having fun with this, the bastard.

“Well, I have an educated guess,” Atlas allows, with enough amusement in his voice to imply he’s in on the joke rather than being the butt of it. “But I must admit, I’m surprised to hear from Mr. Alisker so soon.”

bX shrugs a shoulder, scratching at his well-groomed beard. “People might not chat in Hels, but we certainly whisper.”

Atlas sucks in a breath through his smile. “Indeed.”

He’d known there was a high probability that someone on his staff was secretly reporting to Alisker. After all, Atlas hired most of his security force through him. But he’d been hoping they’d developed enough respect for him to trust in his abilities, and give him time to correct the problem before bringing it to Alisker’s attention.

Apparently not.

(One of these days, his hubris will be the death of him.)

Atlas spreads his hands. “I can assure you, Mr. bX, I have a perfectly reasonable explanation-”

“Save it.” bX waves him off, somehow still managing to seem friendly. As if he truly doesn’t want Atlas to waste his breath. “Papa Al wants to talk to you, in person.”

“Ah.” Atlas folds his hands behind his back, his smile sharpening. “You know, if it was that urgent, he could’ve simply sent me a message. Would’ve saved you the trip. I was just in the area, in fact, paying a visit to the Arena.”

If the pointed mention has struck a nerve with bX, he doesn’t show it. “He just wanted to make sure you got there safely,” he says easily. “You know how dangerous traveling can be on your own.”

(Translation: Alisker didn’t trust that Atlas would come voluntarily.)

“Indeed,” Atlas says, masking his displeasure. “Very well, then. Shall we take my flying machine?”

“Ah, I was hoping you’d offer,” bX chuckles. “It’s not an easy journey to make on foot.”

“No,” Atlas sighs, turning to head back outside, “no, it’s not.”

~*~

If the purpose of having bX fetch Atlas was to make him sweat, it’s certainly working.

The journey to New Helington is always long and arduous, but it’s far more nerve-wracking in bX’s presence. He spends the time making casual small talk and launching into the occasional story, as if their relationship is perfectly amiable. And even worse, he’s resistant to all of Atlas’s attempts to unbalance him, letting every snide remark and underhanded compliment glide off his back like water. As always, his demeanor is perfectly unflappable, as if the man is physically incapable of being anything but totally relaxed and jovial.

Atlas doesn’t trust it. He’s seen what bX is capable of. The front he presents only means that he’s better at covering up his true emotions, thoughts, and desires than most- which makes him even more dangerous.

(Because it’s not like anyone could truly be that content all the time. True happiness in Hels is like sunlight; unattainable, and thus supplemented by other cheaper means.)

Eventually, New Helington’s skyline rises in the distance. The city was around long before Alisker, the remnant of early civilizations that were griefed faster than they could be built, but it’s only been able to flourish under his iron fist and watchful eyes. They’ve seen great expansion in the last few years and will likely continue to do so at an ever-increasing rate. Atlas wouldn’t be surprised if the city ended up encroaching on the outer spawn chunks someday, if Alisker can be bothered to cover up the eyesore that is its current terrain.

“You can park here,” bX calls above the chugging of the sticky pistons as they approach one of the city’s gates.

Atlas leans forward to place the stopper block, bringing them to an immediate halt. “Lead the way,” he says wryly, as if he didn’t just drive himself to his own execution.

bX hops to the ground, waving at the player standing guard at the gate. “Hey man,” he calls as they approach, “keep an eye on this, will you? We’ve got business with Papa Al, shouldn’t take long.”

The player nods and steps aside, pulling a lever on the wall. The gate- a massive piston door- opens up to admit them into the city. Atlas follows bX through, pistons churning as the gate seals behind them with echoing finality.

No matter how many times Atlas visits New Helington, it’s a jarring adjustment.

Flashing redstone lamps and blocks of glowstone adorn the front of nearly every building, which are packed together in a haphazard array. The air is thick with steam and filled with sound- voices shouting and screaming, hydraulics hissing and pounding, metal clashing and screeching. There’s activity everywhere he looks; a player rushing out of a bar as bottles are thrown after him, a player tumbling off a roof and crashing through the awning of a market stand, a player chasing a little horde of kids while screaming about pickpocketing.

Truly, a brilliant reminder of why there are so few thriving civilizations in Hels. Most Hels players are unpleasant on any given day, but they’re even more unpalatable in large numbers.

The cobblestone streets are crowded, players packed together as densely as a piglin swarm. Atlas walks closely next to bX so as to decrease the likelihood of being hassled by anyone. bX is well known here- the crowd parts for them like fish in a stream.

Soon enough, the buildings fall away and the road opens up into a sort of courtyard, paved with polished diorite and framed by lush shrubbery (as lush as it can be in this biome, anyways). Looming on top of the hill in the distance, beyond the tall iron gates, is a lavish mansion made almost entirely out of quartz.

(Seems that Alisker has made good use of the piglin bartering farm Atlas had installed for him. Not that the man will likely recall that particular favor during this meeting.)

bX approaches the gate first, nodding at the two players standing guard. “Hey guys,” he greets them pleasantly. “Got a friend here to see Papa Al.”

The guards exchange a knowing look. “Sure thing, sir,” one of them says, stepping aside to open the gate for them.

Atlas gives them a pointed grin as he passes; he refuses to show even the slightest amount of trepidation lest they realize their assumptions were correct. For all they know, he could be here on perfectly pleasant business, or even a social call.

(Yeah, right.)

The paved path to the front doors slopes gently upwards as it curves this way and that, taking a rather lackadaisical route through the garden. If Atlas were here under different circumstances, he might spare a second to appreciate the landscaping. Not because he has any particular interest in building aesthetics, but because of what it represents. To own so much excess land in a crowded city like New Helington that serves no purpose except to look pretty is quite the power play.

There are no guards at the front doors, which open up into a grand entry chamber reminiscent of a lobby. In the middle of the room, a receptionist sits within the center of a circular desk. She straightens up at their arrival, notices bX, relaxes, notices Atlas, quirks a brow, and then goes right back to her paperwork, an amused smile playing on her lips.

Atlas is certain they’ll all be talking about his visit today, and the thought only sours his mood even further. He’s invested a great deal of time and effort into crafting his reputation as the intelligent, business-savvy, and ruthless head of Hels Tek; he’s not happy about being treated like a misbehaving child.

bX wastes no time leading Atlas to an elevator at the side of the lobby. After bX spins the floor selecting key in its item frame a few times, the redstone lamp in the wall lights up, and the pistons beneath their feet start to churn. The elevator jolts at the movement, starting to ascend in jerky lurches.

(It sounds a lot like the flying machines Atlas has been listening to all day and night. He’s really starting to hate that sound.)

It doesn’t take long for them to reach their floor. The elevator grows still and silent, the redstone lamp going dark, and opens up into a long hallway with a single door at the end.

bX gives Atlas a sideways glance, mouth quirked into a smile. “Three guesses as to what’s behind Door Number One.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Atlas huffs.

“Alright, alright,” bX chuckles, stepping out of the elevator. He leads the way down the hall, stopping in front of the door and rapping his fist against it.

“Hollo?” comes a distinctive voice from inside. “Who isss it?”

“Honey, I’m home,” bX drawls, his voice lighting up with mirth.

There’s a gasp. “bX! That you, sweet face? Come in!”

bX opens the door, and the two of them step inside.

Atlas has been inside Alisker’s office only a few times before- they rarely conduct business in person- but it’s clearly seen some renovations since then. Most of the walls are quartz, a mixture of smooth and polished, while the back wall is made of glass. It provides an excellent view over the lush backyard gardens of the gated property. And to top it all off, the floor is paved entirely with solid diamond blocks.

(Tacky, sure, but also an undisputable show of wealth.)

The man sitting at the desk is just as flashy. He wears a bright teal suit, dyed the exact shade of diamond, and is wearing several of the little stones on his fingers. His actual features, however, are more plain; short brown hair that’s neatly combed back and wide brown eyes set in a somewhat soft, rounded face. The only thing unusual about him are the dozens of thin lines that haphazardly zig-zag across every inch of his face, like paper cuts.

(Atlas doesn’t let himself stare; Alisker loves making people uncomfortable.)

bX waves Atlas inside before closing the door behind them and crossing over to the desk. “Sorry it took so long,” he says ruefully.

“Spank you, queenie,” Alisker hums, tilting his head up to kiss bX on the cheek.

(Atlas isn’t fooled by the tenderness of the gesture; it’s nothing more than a display of power. Showing outright affection to someone like that plainly exposes a weak spot, like baring your throat to a knife. Alisker is saying, in no uncertain terms, that this is his house, and he can do whatever he damn well pleases with no fear of retribution.)

bX moves away to stand in front of the door. Alisker now turns to Atlas, a broad grin splitting across his face. “Doc-tor Sinny!” he croons. “It’s been sooo long since I’ve seen dat beautiful face. Come in, come in! Just sit back, and relax.”

Atlas sits down in the solitary chair before Alisker’s desk, offering a polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Alisker-”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Alisker tsks, giving him a bemused look. “How many times I told you? Call me Papa Al.”

Ugh. “Papa Al,” Atlas corrects himself begrudgingly, his smile strained. “I assure you, I can explain-”

“No need,” Alisker says loftily. He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk. “Look into my eyes, and nufin’ but my eyes.”

Atlas has already prepared himself, but his stomach still jolts when the rest of Alisker’s eyes open up. Every line on his face peels open into a pair of lids, behind which an eye peers out. They’re not symmetrical in size, color, location, or orientation- it’s as if someone’s scooped a bucketful of mismatched eyes out of a bin and crammed them into Alisker’s face at random, wherever they’d fit. His forehead, the bridge of his nose, cheeks, jawline, chin- they all twitch and blink and roll completely out of sync, as if trying to look everywhere at once.

But Atlas has seen all this before, and manages to keep his gaze centered on Alisker’s main eyes, the only two located where eyes are normally found.

“I already know alllll about wha’ happened, mhmm,” Alisker says emphatically, nodding his head. His various eyes roll around in multiple directions at the movement. “I must admit, I- I was shocked- no, I was hurt, dat you didn’t tell me yourself. What’s dat about?”

Atlas inclines his head. “I do apologize for the secrecy,” he says mildly, “but I can assure you, this is just a minor setback. I didn’t see the need to bother you with this when I knew we’d have him back soon enough-”

“But you don’t,” Alisker interrupts pointedly. “How long it’s been, a day and a hoff? Two? Almost two days since you lost the blazey farm, and I gotta say, I’m not- I’m not happy.” Absent-mindedly, he scratches at his cheek- the three eyeballs crammed into the flesh there quickly squeeze shut against his fingertips. “I wouldn’t have been mad if you’d just told me, you know.”

That’s a blatant lie, Atlas knows. He feels himself bristle. “I was just-”

“I gotta know dese things, Atlas!” Alisker interrupts, his tone chiding- like he’s scolding a child. Some of his eyes are looking at each other, as if exchanging a private glance. “Dat’s my investment at stake!”

Atlas talks a breath, centering himself. “You know I appreciate your investment in Hels Tek,” he begins smoothly, spreading his hands, “and I fully intend to deliver. But as inconvenient as this development was, we don’t need him anymore.” His lips split into a winning smile. “We have virtually infinite blaze rods stored up, absolutely no problem there, and I feel as though we’ve more than proven the concept of hybrid powered farms to be a success. We can still proceed with Phase Two-”

“Oh, can we?” Alisker asks in mock surprise, cocking his head to the side. Several of his eyes are looking Atlas up and down, scanning so intently it makes his skin crawl. “You really fink I’m gonna lend you even more of my guys and my pwecious resources so you can go catch more mob hybrids to lose? If you can’t even keep ahold a one, how am I supposed ta trust you wif a whole factory, hm?”

Keep it together. “I understand your trepidation, I do,” Atlas says calmly. “Look, we’re both businessmen. Let’s just discuss this rationally. You’ve known me a long time, I’ve proven myself to you-”

“You’ve proven dat you can’t be trusted,” Alisker snaps, finally letting some heat into his voice. “I spent all dese years funding your research, supplying your security guys, providing you wif all da information you need to be a success, the very bed you sleep on, and dis is how you repay me?”

(Atlas could point out he doesn’t actually sleep on the bed Alisker gifted him, but that information doesn’t seem pertinent at the moment.)

“I don’t- I don’t love it, Atlas,” Alisker continues, his tone grave. His eyes are glaring now, all narrow slits of pupils. “And right now, I don’t love your face.”

Atlas’s stomach drops. “Papa Al, please-”

“You were nufin’ when I found you,” Alisker says darkly, leaning back in his chair. “And if you’ve forgotten, then bX over here will remind you.”

He snaps his fingers.

bX suddenly appears next to Atlas. He doesn’t fight as bX grabs him by the front of his shirt, heaving him out of the chair until their faces are only inches apart, close enough for Atlas to smell the saltwater that always seems to hang off bX’s breath despite them being thousands of blocks away from the nearest ocean.

“Nothin’ personal,” bX chuckles before throwing Atlas against the wall.

The blow shudders through Atlas’s skull, knocking his shades clean off. He manages to stay on his feet, clutching his head and straightening up just in time to see the first punch swing towards his face.

He retreats into his mind right before the impact.

(This is probably how bX manages to stay so collected, Atlas thinks to himself, observing with detached interest while his body is beaten. bX gets to let out all his frustrations on whatever unfortunate player Alisker sics him on that day. It’s something Atlas can relate to, somewhat. After all, there are times where he has to use a little force of his own to keep his staff in line and remind them who’s in charge- because some of them still only respond to violence, the brutish law of beasts.

But he can never let himself go this far. If he did, he’d lose their faith completely. Why would they stay with him if Hels Tek wasn’t better- more civil, more orderly- than the alternative, the lawless wasteland of Hels?

Besides, he hates to admit to himself how good it feels to use violence, so he avoids it when he can. He prefers to use the more elegant method of psychological torture to break a spirit. There’s beauty in laying a trap like that, in spinning delicate spiderwebs of lies and manipulation until his victim is so thoroughly ensnared they can’t even think to fight back. It works like a charm- most of the time, that is- and it’s far less messy.

Of course, that’s not to say Alisker’s methods are ineffective. Atlas has been dreading this meeting for very good reason.)

He isn’t sure how much time passes before the beating is over. When he comes back to himself, he’s on the floor, curled onto his side. One of his eyes won’t open all the way, pain radiating through his skull. It’s only dimmed by the pain pulsing through his chest and stomach- he’ll likely have some boot-shaped bruises come morning.

He can taste blood from a split lip, smeared against his teeth- he runs his tongue along them just to check he hasn’t lost any, because those don’t always respawn.

Another small mercy; once the room stops spinning, Atlas sees his shades lying on the floor a few feet away, without so much as a crack in the lenses. Taking a slow, deep breath, he pushes himself upright- and grits his teeth against the wave of nausea that crashes over him.

(Any hope of leaving with his dignity intact has been utterly destroyed, but at the very least, he’d like to not lose his lunch all over Alisker’s diamond floor.)

Atlas can’t know for sure without checking his communicator, but he’s fairly certain he must only have one or two hearts of health left. Carefully, he reaches for his shades, placing them back on his face before pulling himself to his feet.

bX is on the other side of the desk, hands braced on it as he leans over to whisper something in Alisker’s ear, which makes him chuckle. His extra eyes have closed once more, leaving just the two normal ones eyeing Atlas as he stands, one brow quirked.

“Well?” Alisker prompts, almost sounding bored.

Atlas chokes back his anger. “Message received,” he breathes, grinning despite the sharp pain in his lip. “It was a mistake I won’t be making again.”

Alisker snorts. “If you even get da chonce…” Seemingly satisfied, he turns away from Atlas and runs a hand up bX’s arm, letting it rest at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t even look over as he adds, “I trust you can find your own way out?”

(What was it that Atlas called bX, an attack dog? More like a glorified lap dog.)

“Of course,” Atlas says shortly, heading for the door just as bX leans down to meet Alisker’s lips. “Good day, gentlemen.”

It’s humiliating, to take his own leave from the mansion in such a sorry state. He thinks it almost would’ve been less humiliating if Alisker had him dragged and thrown out, instead of forcing him to leave with his tail tucked between his legs.

He briefly debates taking a short walk off a tall building to respawn his injuries away, and to save himself the trip back to the lab, but having the death against him would be even more of a bruise to his pride.

And he’ll be damned if he lets them keep his flying machine.

~*~

After a long flight back home, Atlas is greeted with even more bad news.

Four of his security guards have quit. The cowards couldn’t even stick around to hand over their resignations in person. Sensing the start of a worrying trend, Atlas quickly assembles the rest of the staff for a meeting.

(Normally he’d give it a few days for his injuries to heal, but this is important. Besides, it’s not like they couldn’t guess what happened. A visit to Alisker is never a good thing.)

Atlas explains that yes, their chief sponsor is informed of the Tango situation, and yes, he’s quite unhappy about it. But he also explains that this is just a little snag, and that efforts to recapture Tango will begin anew very soon. In the meantime, he expects business to proceed as usual; they have plenty of other projects that require attention, and all reports are due at their normal times.

That refocuses some of the heavily work-driven scientists. But over the next couple days, there’s still far too much gossip and speculation for his liking.

And at the end of the week, three more guards resign.

~*~

“You’d better have a good reason for interrupting me,” Atlas says without looking up.

He’s given his staff strict instructions not to bother him. It’s no easy task, going through all their accumulated knowledge on Tango in the search of something that might help them track the hybrid down. All that’s come of it thus far were the coordinates of Tango’s starter base, which had turned up empty. It’d been griefed years ago, with no signs of life or recent activity. Tango probably doesn’t even remember where it is, but Atlas had the whole place trapped just in case.

The player standing in the doorway of Atlas’s office sucks in a breath through his teeth, like a wince. “Sorry, sir. It’s just, uh- well, I just need to-”

“What is it?” Atlas snaps, finally looking up. It’s the intern- no surprise there.

The intern gulps and holds out a piece of paper. “Dr. Ironclad resigned.”

Atlas blinks. Slowly, he rises from his desk and takes the paper. Quickly reading it, he shoves down the violent collision of emotions rising up inside him and drops the paper into the little waste bin beside his desk.

“Well congratulations, doctor,” he says simply, turning away. “You’ve just been promoted.”

The intern makes a disbelieving squeaking noise. “Oh! Oh wow, sir! Th- thank you, sir! I- I promise, I won’t let you down-”

“You can go now,” Atlas says dryly.

“Yes sir, right away, sir!”

~*~

The intern-turned-doctor only lasts two days before he flees in the middle of the night.

~*~

Atlas’s communicator beeps.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> I heard that old al pulled the plug on HT. True?

<You whispered to InstinctEV> Not in the slightest. If you must know, the terms of Alisker’s sponsorship deal with Hels Tek have become complicated, but the deal is still very much intact. The details beyond that are confidential.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> interesting. You know, we’re always hiring at iRaid…

<You whispered to InstinctEV> Respectfully, fuck off.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> :P

~*~

Despite Atlas’s best efforts, word spreads quickly.

Soon enough, the rest of Hels Tek’s sponsors are at the door, demanding to know about the status of Phase Two. Atlas does his best to assuage their concerns, but they insist on seeing the farm.

And from there, things go rather poorly.

Atlas’s sales pitch, insisting that Tango is not a necessary component in the Phase Two expansion, isn’t well received. By the end of the visit, two sponsors have walked out on the company. He does manage to convince the remainders to give him some time, but they make it quite clear that the terms of their investment lie entirely on Tango’s swift return.

As soon as the sponsors leave, Atlas tears through their research on Tango with renewed urgency. But aside from observations about blaze hybrid behavior and habits- which they’ve altered by pure virtue of scientific experimentation and thus cannot rely upon to be constant- there’s nothing they can use to locate him.

They’ll have to do this the old fashioned-way.

~*~

Over the next few months, Atlas sends out several more search expeditions- but all to no avail. He finally gives up when the last expedition doesn’t return; three more scientists run off with the last of his security team to seek employment elsewhere.

There’s nothing else to be done. He has to accept that Tango must’ve slipped past them, escaping to the wilds of Hels. The hybrid is probably long gone, hundreds of thousands of blocks away.

It’s either that, or else…

(There are whispers, sometimes, of players vanishing from Hels. Not dying, but well and truly vanishing without a trace, never to appear again, not even in chat. Atlas knows there are worlds beyond Hels- he’s an analytical purist at heart, and he knows Patho’s deduction is sound. He’s worked over that theorem enough times himself to nearly have it memorized.

But he’s had some of the best scientists in Hels attempting to construct a working portal for the better part of two decades now. If it was possible, they would’ve done it already.)

No, no, he’s being ridiculous. There’s nothing mysterious or otherworldly happening here, just a sneaky blaze hybrid that’s managed to evade him. All Atlas can do now is keep an ear to the ground and an eye on the chat, waiting for Tango to slip up and expose himself.

(It’s a hard pill to swallow. Atlas would greatly prefer if something mysterious and otherworldly was happening here.)

He’d send a whisper to Tango, just to confirm that the hybrid still exists somewhere in Hels and put those ridiculous fears to bed, but they took Tango’s communicator from him a long time ago; it’s still collecting dust on a shelf in Atlas’s office, unused but fully-functional.

Atlas briefly thought it could be of use; communicators are unique items that spawn into existence with their player, so he hoped there might be a link to Tango buried within its data. But the data analysis he ran came up dry. He could call in a specialist to have a look at it, but those contacts operate through Alisker, and he certainly won’t be doing Atlas any favors.

Nevermind that. The next time Tango dies, his name will appear in the chat whether he has a communicator of his own or not.

Atlas just has to be patient.

(Hels Tek’s sponsors, it seems, do not share the same sentiment.)

~*~

“- such a big fucking deal?”

“I can’t work in these conditions!”

Atlas quickens his pace down the hallway towards the sound of shouting. Tensions have been rising among his staff since another one of their sponsors pulled out a couple days ago, and he’s had to break up several squabbles already-

“You don’t work at all! All you do is stand around complaining-”

“Hybrid farming is my life’s work, you asshole-”

“And what’s it amounted to, huh?”

Atlas rounds the corner just in time to see Riposte tackle Malvin to the ground. The scuffle between the two scientists quickly turns bloody- Riposte’s fingernails rake across Malvin’s face, who retaliates by biting down on the meat of Riposte’s thumb. Diving into the fray, Atlas wrenches Riposte off the other man, throwing him against the wall.

“Dr. Riposte!” Atlas barks. “Get ahold of yourself!”

Riposte is glaring daggers, but makes no move to break free of Atlas’s hold. “He started it-”

“Oh, fuck off!” Malvin snarls from behind them.

“That’s enough!” Atlas can feel his own temper coming to a boil. “Both of you! This behavior is not acceptable at Hels Tek.”

“Yeah?” Riposte pushes Atlas off him and stalks down the hall, shouting over his shoulder, “Well, I quit!”

“Good riddance!” Malvin shouts back.

It takes all of Atlas’s self control not to whirl around and kick him.

~*~

On the first anniversary of Tango’s escape, bXMiner drops by Hels Tek.

“Mr. bX,” Atlas greets him with a smile, stepping aside to let him in. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Been a while since we’ve heard from you,” bX hums, clearly not in the mood for small talk. “Papa Al sent me to check in.”

Atlas inclines his head. “Well, I hate to disappoint,” he says, trying to sound sincere, “but if I’d made any progress you would’ve already been informed.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” bX says, shaking his head.

Atlas’s grin is so tight he might just crack his teeth. “I do hope Mr. Alisker doesn’t see the need to discuss the matter in person?”

“Oh no, no,” bX laughs, cracking his knuckles. “He just told me to give you a message.”

Atlas sighs. “Very well.”

Gingerly, he takes his shades off, folds them, and sets them on his desk.

bX seems amused by that. “Again, nothing personal,” he says, winding up for the first punch.

Again, Atlas doesn’t fight. There’s no point; Alisker is relentless and if it wasn’t bX, it’d be any number of vicious goons sent after him. Might as well just get it over with and then get back to work, so it never has to happen again.

(Atlas doesn’t know it at the time, of course, but this soon becomes a yearly tradition.)

~*~

Time passes. Still no news of Tango.

Nothing in the chat, nothing at the Arena, nothing in the city.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

~*~

On one unassuming day, Atlas is pouring over his files on Tango for what must be the fiftieth time when three unfamiliar players burst into his office, equipped with swords.

“What’s the code to your vault?” the player in the middle demands.

Atlas stares blankly at the players. Hels Tek is being raided, now. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Security has admittedly taken a steep dive, considering they no longer have any security guards employed and are only eleven scientists strong, but he didn’t think players would be bold enough to actually attempt a raid-

“Hey!” a second player shouts, raising her blade. “We’re talking to you, poindexter!”

Atlas sighs. “Very well. I know I have it written down somewhere,” he says, reaching for the loaded crossbow stashed in an item frame beneath his desk.

~*~

biaxialcloud78 was shot by Atlas Syn

Hoaxboat was shot by Atlas Syn

Ballet Bob was shot by Atlas Syn

~*~

Their villagers were slaughtered in the raid, of course, bringing the iron farm to a screeching halt. Hels Tek has a villager farm in reserve, of course, hidden deep beneath the facility. But of course, no one is willing to fetch the replacement villagers and undertake the arduous process of wrangling them several floors up into the iron farm. Atlas would assign the task to someone himself, but of course, he’s too preoccupied with his own work to bother.

So iron production halts, and scientists start running out of materials, and by the end of the week, Heligan and FlySpeck have quit.

Of course.

~*~

“Oi, Atlas,” Clear huffs, poking his head into Atlas’s office, “could’ya tell Mal to quit nabbin’ all me spare pistons?”

Atlas can’t even bring himself to be irritated. “Dr. Malvin left three weeks ago, Dr. Clear.”

“Oh.” Clear blinks. “Alright. Can I ‘ave some more pistons, then?”

“No,” Atlas says, rising to his feet, “no, you cannot. Do you know why that is, Dr. Clear?”

Clear frowns at him. “What, you gettin’ stingy on us alluva sudden?”

Atlas feels himself smile entirely without humor. “Us? When’s the last time you looked around yourself, Dr. Clear?” he asks. “All that’s left of Hels Tek is you, me, and four other people. Our sponsors are dropping like bats and we’re still no closer to recapturing Tango than we were the day we lost him! Do you even realize how many years have passed without a single whisper of his existence?”

Clear, as usual, seems entirely unfazed by Atlas’s tone. “Well, if you ask me, I don’t see why losin’ a blaze farm is such a problem,” he huffs, absently drumming his greasy fingers along Atlas’s doorframe. “Ain’t we got other things to work on?”

“Oh, believe me,” Atlas snarks, “I’d be perfectly happy to move forward with Phase Two.”

“So why don’t ‘cha, then?” Clear asks plainly.

“Because our sponsors, Dr. Clear, don’t share the same opinion.” Atlas folds his arms behind his back, walking around the desk. “They require Tango Tek in working order as proof of concept before they’ll fund my expedition, and an effort of this scale cannot be orchestrated on empty pockets.”

“Sponsors,” Clear scoffs, as if he’s only heard every other word Atlas said. “Bunch’a ninnies, the lot of ‘em. What’s a sponsor know ‘bout redstone anyhow?”

Atlas exhales slowly. “In case you haven’t noticed,” he says, “redstone endeavors of this caliber don’t have the luxury of being entirely unattached from politics and personal agendas. No one will fund science for science’s sake.”

Clear shrugs. “Then we’ll do it ourselves.”

Atlas rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

“We’ve got most the infrastructure in place already, ain’t we?” Clear continues, now twirling his mustache.

Atlas knits his brows together. “Infrastructure is useless without the manpower to utilize it.”

“Then get some manpower.”

“I already told you, our sponsors-”

“If I ain’t mistaken, Hels Tek didn’t ‘ave any sponsors when I joined up.” The look Clear gives him is surprisingly lucid, framed by hard determination- a shadow of the man Atlas knew so many years ago. “Just you, standin’ there with your trim black coat an’ a grin that said you’d ‘ave all of Hels in your pocket someday, an’ I believed it.”

Atlas is silent for a moment. “Is that so?”

Clear inclines his head. “I’m still ‘ere, ain’t I?”

“I suppose you are,” Atlas says quietly. “Thank you, Dr. Clear.”

“Sure.” Clear glances away, his expression quickly clouding again. “Glad to help. Now, about them pistons-”

“Prepare a flying machine, if you please,” Atlas says, turning back to his desk.

“Oh,” Clear says, taken aback. “Oh, alrigh’ then. Fine, sure, not like I’ve got me own work to do…” he mutters to himself, starting down the hallway.

Atlas quickly starts packing. Aside from the essentials, he won’t need much. A stack of business cards, his blueprint for the Phase Two factory, and the abstract of Riposte’s thesis on hybrid farming (which is now the intellectual property of Hels Tek, of course). The sales pitch is still as fresh in his mind as the day he wrote it, all those years ago.

He’ll start with the cities. New Helington is off the table but while it may be the largest and most centrally located, there are plenty others he knows of. And if that fails, he has no problem poaching talent from other redstone communities and corporations. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time-

Clear pokes his head back into Atlas’s office.

“Uh, flyin’ machines are… where, exactly?”

~*~

Atlas’s first recruitment tour is a smashing success.

Six new redstoners to join the staff, with several more on the line and likely to join soon. Since security is still a work in progress, he ensures that every one of them is well-armed and fully capable of defending themselves. Once he has them settled in, he tasks them with whipping all the farms back into working order.

(In the years after Hels Tek’s mass exodus, several more farms have broken in addition to the iron farm, falling victim to glitches and overflow and lack of maintenance. The only reason Atlas didn’t realize this sooner was because he hadn’t had enough scientists to complain about the lack of resources.)

The feat gets accomplished in record time, as each new hire is determined to prove their mettle to him and stand out from the pack. Resources start flowing in, and crafting begins shortly thereafter. Soon, their storage system is well-stocked with all the redstone essentials.

It’s not a completely smooth transition, of course. Many of them have heard rumors about the decline of Hels Tek and there are questions about the empty blaze farm, which Atlas does his best to deflect. There are squabbles between the new hires and the old staff, squabbles about which office spaces and dwelling chambers go to who, and squabbles about what projects to work on next. It doesn’t help that the only scientists who stayed from the old payroll, including Clear, are the most eccentric and stubborn ones he ever hired.

In the end, Atlas assigns the new scientists to ongoing projects based on the skills and experience listed in their resumes, under the supervision of the old scientists (who he finds quite like being called ‘supervisors’) and with the promise that success will award them the chance to manage their own projects. That makes everyone happy, and Hels Tek sees a sudden surge in productivity, the likes of which Atlas hasn’t seen since before Tango escaped.

After two months, when Atlas feels that all the little snags that come with change have been ironed out and things are now running smoothly, he starts looking for new sponsors. He sends whispers out to a long list of his former sponsors, past and current clients, and affluent business moguls, announcing Hels Teks’ grand reopening.

Most of his whispers go unanswered- which isn’t a surprise, considering he doesn’t have Alisker’s name behind him (because although Alisker hasn’t formally revoked his sponsorship and still sends his monthly stipends, he’s no longer conducting business on Hels Tek’s behalf).

But some of them don’t. Some of them get interested responses, and with a little back-and-forth, Atlas is able to set up a couple facility tours. Once those go off without a hitch, the money starts pouring in.

And with it comes all the influence and notoriety that he once enjoyed; the peak of a mountain he feared he’d never climb again. He’s able to hire decent security (who are only interested in money, unlike the scientists that can be won over on the merit of redstone alone). The employee housing gets expanded, as does the facility itself. Projects are completed and approved for sale at a tremendous rate. Soon enough, even the Arena is sporting Hels Tek brand piston doors.

But even so, Atlas isn’t completely satisfied. That empty blaze farm burns at the back of his mind. And despite his recent progress, Phase Two still feels like a far-off dream at this stage, well out of reach- just like the hybrid who has all but vanished off the face of Hels.

(He still checks chat every day, just in case.)

~*~

<InstinctEV whispered to you> There’s a new redstoner settin up shop near the eastern wastes, seems big into farms. just so you know…

<You whispered to InstinctEV> And why, pray tell, did you decide to share this information with me?

<InstinctEV whispered to you> I tried to hire him and he told me to piss off, figured I’d let you take a crack at it.

<You whispered to InstinctEV> How uncharacteristically generous of you. What’s the catch?

<InstinctEV whispered to you> He seems skittish around monsters but you tend to only hire normies anyway. plus it’s only fair, I got five new scientists out of HT’s nose dive and i dont like owing anyone.

<You whispered to InstinctEV> I’d hardly call that a debt.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> That mean you don’t want the coords?

…

<You whispered to InstinctEV> Send them.

~*~

Atlas finally brings the flying machine to a halt, dropping to the ground.

It was a painfully long trip. Hels Tek is located a couple thousand blocks to the west of spawn as it is, and the eastern waste itself is several thousands more blocks still. It’s quite a remote place for a redstoner to settle, and the netherrack landscape is barren, bordered by an insurmountable lava ocean almost entirely spanned by a soul valley biome. Ghasts spawn all the time, taking out anyone stupid or desperate enough to try crossing or building near it- anyone hoping to head east will have to go around it, adding weeks and weeks of travel.

Even now, Atlas is keeping his distance from the glowing orange horizon as he starts towards the coordinates Instinct gave him. Dying now would almost guarantee he gives up on the idea altogether, because he can’t be bothered to make such a long trip again.

He really hopes whoever this mystery redstoner turns out to be is worth it.

There, in the distance; a modest blackstone structure about two stories high, fenced in by thick walls. Luckily, it’s far enough away from the soul valley that no ghasts are spawning. Atlas thinks he might be able to see the top of a farm peeking above the fence, though he can’t say for certain what kind.

Everything is still and quiet as Atlas strolls up to the front gate. Posted against the wall is a birch sign with ‘NO TRESPASSING, KEEP OUT’ scrawled on it. And on the other side, a second one that says ‘NO SOLICITORS, GO AWAY’.

Chuckling to himself, Atlas pushes the gate open and walks inside.

The yard is simple, but meticulously landscaped. Over on one side is the farm he saw on his way in, which he can now identify as an automatic bamboo farm. Not much on its own, but bamboo is one of the most rapidly acquired fuel sources; an essential piece of infrastructure for any large scale smelting. That shows good foresight, and at least a basic understanding of redstone mechanics.

Perhaps this trip won’t be a bust, after all.

Atlas comes to a stop at the front door of the building. It’s an iron door, with no visible button or other unlocking mechanism. He suspects it must be hooked up to a hidden hopper that reads a specific item, a ‘key’, before permitting access. That’s slightly more complex redstone, and shows a wise amount of paranoia- though of course, a truly determined raider would just break it down.

(It’s as if this player expects others to abide by gentleman’s rules without the threat of force, just the principle. Interesting.)

Atlas knocks loudly on the door. “Hello,” he calls, “anyone home? I’m looking for a redstoner.”

A sound pricks at his ears; the gentle thump of something or someone landing behind him. Just now, it occurs to Atlas that the second floor had windows- one of which was positioned right above the front door.

(Clever devil.)

He whirls around right as the player draws his sword. He means to say something witty, but his grin drops clean off his face as soon as he gets a look at the player’s face, because he knows that face, that messy blond hair and slim nose and pointed chin.

He’s staring at Tango.

Except-

It’s Tango, except the ears are too round, and there are no wither stains beneath his eyes. It’s Tango, except the teeth bared in a scowl are blunt, and the hand gripping the sword ends in fingertips instead of claws. It’s Tango, except there isn’t a single ounce of recognition or fear in his expression, just displeasure bordering on annoyance. And furthermore, there are no blaze rods floating above his head.

Atlas tilts his chin down slightly, enough to look over the top of his tinted shades, and he sees that the player’s eyes are green.

Not Tango, not quite- but close enough.

“I’m Bravo,” Not-Tango says in Tango’s voice, leveling his sword at Atlas’s throat. “Who are you?”

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a long time ago, a player climbs a mountain.

The cluster of basalt spires in the delta north of New Helington isn’t for the faint of heart. In this biome, the risks are many; fall damage, tripping into a sneaky lava pool, and nearly infinite spawning of those damned magma cubes. Even the very air, choked with an ever-constant downpour of ash, is hostile by design.

But Atlas is here for a very good reason.

He’s gotten a tip from Alisker about some new redstoner leaving traps near the borders of New Helington. He even went through the trouble of having one of his goons sniff out the player’s base, so all Atlas has to do is follow the coordinates.

It’s not the first time Alisker has informed him of a potential new hire; several of his full-time scientists came as recommendations. But this time, Atlas is less interested in what this player can do with redstone, and more in what kind of player this is.

<Some kinda mob hybrid> Alisker had written dismissively. <Blazey, me thinks>

There’s a lot that can be done with mob hybrids, far more than a non-redstoner might think. One of Atlas’s own employees just wrote a thesis on the subject. So for that reason alone, it’s worth making the treacherous journey.

(And he’d never admit this, for fear of hypocrisy, but it’s nice to get out of the lab every now and then.)

Glancing at his communicator, Atlas comes to a stop. Based on the coordinates, the hybrid’s base should be just in front of him.

The terrain has opened up into a small plateau, perfectly in line with the normal generation of these biomes. Except there’s the slightest jut out from the far cliff- perhaps a single block too wide than what would’ve spawned naturally here. The blocks themselves are right; basalt in vertical orientation, but the positioning is off. As if someone placed them there to cover something up.

A piston door, perhaps.

(An untrained eye never would have noticed it. This hybrid is clever.)

Atlas puts his communicator away and walks up to the cliff. He’s planning to announce his presence plainly and loudly, not wanting to waste any time or come off as a threat, but he doesn’t get the chance.

A snarl fills his ears, high-pitched and animalistic. He whirls around in time to sidestep the blur of movement coming at him- he only registers them as claws when they scrape the basalt cliffside behind him, leaving four shallow gashes in the stone.

Atlas backs up a few steps, quickly holding his hands up. “Take it easy! I’m not here to fight.”

The figure has backed up as well, pausing, posture slightly hunched as he looks up at Atlas and catches his breath.

The hybrid.

Atlas peers down at him over the brim of his glasses; turns out the hybrid’s eyes are actually red, not just tinted that way through his shades.

The hybrid’s young, though not quite still a kid- somewhere in what most players refer to as the ‘teenage stage.’ His limbs are growing faster than the rest of him, though he remains at least half a block shorter than Atlas, and his face is rounded with the last stubborn remnants of baby fat. Two oversized pointed ears jut out from beneath a mop of wild blond hair. And dancing in the air just above it are several fine cylinders, no thicker than Atlas’s finger, glowing with red heat as they spin and fizzle in a defensive display.

Blaze rods. The entire reason Atlas is here.

He doesn’t let himself stare at them long. The hybrid is watching him closely, those red eyes burning with a calculated intelligence that Atlas seldom finds in a player so young.

“Hello there,” Atlas starts, keeping his tone brisk. If he tries to be too kindly, he’ll scare the hybrid off for sure. “My name is Dr. Atlas Syn, head of Hels Tek Laboratories. Have you heard of us?”

The hybrid peels his lips back into a snarl, showing off a mouth full of sharp teeth. The blaze rods floating above his head ignite with flames.

It’s not a surprising reaction. Most children in Hels grow up completely wild, at the mercy of the unforgiving world. But truthfully, the ones lucky enough to get taken in by other players or accepted into a community don’t seem to do much better.

Atlas suspects it’s part of an innate defense mechanism, built into the data of young players to protect them from the hostile environment until they’re able to properly look after themselves. Players generally don’t mellow out and start acting civilized until they’ve matured (Atlas considers himself the exception in this case). And of course, a hybrid will be battling mob instincts during any moment of stress or strong emotions, bound to their code.

Rather than react to the threat, Atlas shrugs. “That’s alright,” he says easily. “We’re quite a way’s west, word must not have reached here yet. We’re a redstone laboratory. I hear you know a thing or two about that.”

The growling stops. The hybrid eyes him warily.

“I’m on a recruitment mission of sorts,” Atlas continues, undeterred, “seeking out new scientists to join our staff. We’ve got lots of projects in the works at the moment- plenty of specialties to choose from. Now, you are a bit younger than we tend to hire for full-time scientists, but there’s an opening for an intern that I think you’d be well-suited for.”

The hybrid hesitates- his eyes flick to the side, as if debating whether or not to run. “What makes you say that?” he asks finally. His voice is higher than Atlas was expecting, strained with the characteristic cracking of youth.

Atlas inclines his head. “Whenever people talk about some new player building clever redstone contraptions, I hear about it. And from what I hear, your work is quite impressive for your age.” He lets just the slightest amount of approval enter his voice, not enough to be taken as disingenuous or overly flattering. “I think you could have a bright future with Hels Tek, with a little guidance.”

The blaze rods twirling above the hybrid’s head are glowing yellow, now- and there’s a warmer, less hostile feel to it. It’s likely no one has ever praised him before.

But he’s still on his guard. “What would I get out of it?” he asks dubiously.

Atlas counts on his fingers. “A secure base to live in, a state of the art laboratory to work in, full access to a complete stock of redstone components, nearly unlimited resources, and collaboration with the brightest redstone minds that Hels has to offer,” he says. “Hels Tek has caught the eye of several prominent beneficiaries; you’ll find we’re quite well-supplied.”

Atlas can almost see the gears turning in the hybrid’s mind. “And- and what would you have me do?” he asks, folding his arms.

“Well, that depends on you,” Atlas says simply. “Sometimes, younger interns find the work too challenging. But those that succeed go on to become full-fledged scientists running their own experiments, conducting their own research, constructing their own contraptions- with complete control over their projects.” He spreads his hands. “We don’t constrain our scientists to working on what’s most profitable, we let their passions guide them. Under this methodology, Hels Tek has recently made stunning advancements in redstone technology- with slime block flying machines and iron farming, to name a few.”

The hybrid’s pupils expand a couple of millimeters; the idea excites him. “You guys have villagers?” he asks, trying but mostly failing to keep the excitement from showing in his voice.

Atlas allows a knowing smile to spread across his face. “Like I said, Hels Tek is privy to several lucrative sponsorship deals. We’ve got all sorts of things most redstoners can only dream of. I’m sure we’d find something to suit a man of your talents.” Here he pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Though I must say, I hope your redstone prowess extends beyond simple traps and pranks.”

The hybrid actually puffs his chest up at that. “Oh, don’t you worry,” he says, his eyes flashing at the proposed challenge, “I’ve got plenty more than that.”

He suddenly strikes an arm out at the pillar of basalt beside him- a stone button, almost perfectly blended into the ashen gray landscape.

(Clever devil.)

A chugging sound fills the air. The two peculiar blocks of basalt Atlas noticed earlier are retracted by pistons and tucked away, revealing a small opening in the spire. Beyond that, he can see the inside has been hollowed out, stairs leading down to what must be the rest of the base underground.

“We can talk more inside,” the hybrid says, extending a clawed hand. “I’m Tango.”

Shaking his hand, Atlas grins.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tango.”

~*~

#hermitcraft #double life smp #traffic smp #hermitshipping #tango tek #mcyt oc #hels to pay au #HTP fic #my writing #this oneshot would not have been nearly as long if it werent for my love of worldbuilding #and atlas's need to ALWAYS get a word in #anyway i hope this was worth the wait!! <3 i had FUN but hoooo boy its a lot

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umbraastaff · 1 year

Text

There are two figures silhouetted against the iceberg's eerie glow. Both humanoids. The first is curled over the second protectively, and the second seems to be reaching back, trying to do the same.

Barry contemplates this for a minute. He's for sure not powerful enough to bend the ice apart, and even if he was, there's no guarantee he could do it without hurting them. Assuming they're alive, anyway, which is a long shot in itself.

But he's out here alone, and this floating mass of ice might float away if he leaves it alone to go get help. So, feeling a bit like an idiot, he starts whacking at it with his club.

A few hits later and he's being blasted in the face by pressurized air. Oh, shit, the ice was hollow. With that knowledge, he smashes through more of it, to where the two figures have now fallen limp to the ground.

They're nearly identical, and they've both got long ears, like… elves. Like air nomads.

He hovers awkwardly over both of them, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. They are both comically underdressed for the weather, in elven wear designed for the light, free movements of airbenders, not for the warmth needed by earthbound (icebound) peoples. But he can see their breathing, so shallow and fragile; they're both going to die if he doesn't do anything.

Barry pulls his coat off; adrenaline lets him ignore the frozen air for now as he starts shifting them so he can get it underneath, keep their backs from lying flat against the icy ground. But as he lifts the first one, she groans, and he startles, jostling her slightly.

Her eyes fly open, and she punches him in the gut. It's definitely not at full power, being in an awkward position and half-frozen, but she clearly knows where to aim: the breath is knocked out of him, letting her shove him away and scramble to her knees.

Then she sees her twin, and she grabs his shoulders. "Taako! Taako, wake up," she hisses desperately. Her eyes only flick over to Barry once more, making sure he's staying back. Slowly, Taako comes to.

"Five more minutes," he says faintly.

"No! Get up! We're at the fucking– what pole is this?" She asks Barry sharply, pupils in slits.

"The– We're– South pole," he says, wide-eyed.

"We're at the south pole!"

That seems to wake Taako up more; he sits up of his own volition, at least. Then he twists and stretches a little, and hops to his feet with unnatural dexterity: the grace of someone being lifted by the air itself. A staff flies into his hand from the ground. "Who's this clown?"

"I don't know, I literally woke up five seconds before you. Where's my staff?"

She climbs back into the broken iceberg to look around, and Taako looks at Barry. "So what's your deal, Bluejeans?"

"Barry– I'm Barry," he says. "I'm, like, I live here. What were you doing in a fuckin' iceberg?"

Taako shrugs flippantly. Lup stands triumphantly, a bright red umbrella held up above her head. "Fuck yes!" It's in impressively good condition for apparently being frozen in this iceberg for however long. As are both of the elves.

Lup looks down to see Barry gathering his outer coat up from the ground, and her gaze softens a little in realization of what he must've been doing with it. "You should put that back on, dude, it's cold."

"I mean– I've still got thicker clothes than you without it, s-so–" Barry starts, clearly shivering. He tries to hold it out towards either one of them, but she shakes her head and nudges it back to him.

"We're good, but thanks. You should get that on before you get pneumonia."

He clearly doesn't find that a satisfactory explanation, but he can't find the words to object in the moment, either. He awkwardly starts pulling his coat back on.

"Barry, yeah? I'm Lup," says the one that isn't Taako.

"You're elves, right?"

"Uh, yeah," says Taako, ears a-twitch. "What, you can't tell?"

"Uh, how… How long were you guys in there?"

Lup frowns, turning to Taako with a furrowed brow. "Uh, like… a few days? However long it takes to float here from the Southern Air Temple? Speaking of, they're probably suuuper worried, so as cute as you are, we should probably be getting back–"

Barry's too shocked to even react to being called cute. "There's people there?"

"Yes?" Taako says; even he's letting concern color his voice now, though his ridiculously large hat covers most of his expression.

"Why wouldn't there be?" Lup asks, rounding on Barry as her expression hardens.

Barry covers his mouth with a hand.

#taz balance #the adventure zone #taz au #atla #lup #taako #barry bluejeans #mine #writes #balance #atla au #guess what ive been rewatching!#i have a whole thing with vague placements of characters n stuff but this one might be more of a prompt fueled oneshots au than a #whole massive story #im already committed to one huge gd crossover au ok so help me god #this is fun though

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nichenarratives · 8 months

Text

A Doggone Shame: Part 1

An Obscure Oneshot

Inspiration art by Tracy J Butler

It's a rarity Mordecai finds himself home before sunrise, so it is with great delight he's enjoying some time to himself that fine autumn evening in 1926. He'd made dinner - a warming and nostalgic Matzo ball soup, with enough for tomorrow - had a shower, made a hot cup of tea and had just settled into his favourite armchair to continue reading Soldier's Pay by William Faulkner when there's a hurried, desperate knock on his apartment door.

The monochrome tom glances up, stilled in place with book in hand and cup halfway to his lips. He's not expecting to be bothered. The Lackadaisy would still be in full swing, which would keep most everyone Mordecai knows occupied until gone three tomorrow morning. It's possible Atlas has sent someone to fetch him at the last minute, but Viktor would not knock so gently, nor not announce himself.

Another knock, this one faster, more urgent. Mordecai sets his teacup down on its saucer and closes the book without saving the page, placing it on the chair. Slippered steps are silent as he crosses the room, habitually drawing a pistol from within his dressing gown on the way. He's tense as he presses his body to the wall beside the door - not the wood, as it's too flimsy - and cranes his neck to peer through the peephole, expecting at least an enemy.

Familiar large, yellow eyes framed by a deep brown bob cut stare back. The black feline sighs, though he's unsure if it is out of relief or vexation, and slips his pistol away. Taking a breath, he composes himself once more before answering the door. "Miss Pepp-Urgh!"

There had been more to his greeting, some formalities and an honest query for her visit, but Mordecai can't help but recoil when he sees what Ivy holds; a mangy animal, beady black eyes and nose standing in sharp contrast to scruffy, white fur. The creature is small enough to fit in an austere lady's handbag, sharp, unkempt claws loosely grasping Ivy's sleeve as its ratty tail swings uselessly between its legs.

A dog, he realises with disdain, scrunching his nose at the scent of slobber and damp fur. He takes a step back into his apartment and half-closes the door between them, as if the partial physical barrier might make it less revolting. Sadly, it does little. "Miss Pepper," he tries again, forgoing formality for precision. "Why is that… thing, outside my apartment?"

The girl puffs out her cheeks. "He's not a thing, he's a dog!"

Mordecai scowls at the creature, which seems to find joy in his discomfort; the thing wags its tail more intensely and in a fit of excitement, begins to squeak and struggle in Ivy's arms until unable to get free, begins frantically licking her chin. Ivy giggles and tries to block the slobbering tongue lashes with a hand, with very limited success. "Isn't he cute? I found him running about on campus, no collar or anything. He might be a stray!"

The very prospect of being slathered with dog germs makes Mordecai feel nauseous. He has no idea why anyone would willingly cohabit with such a beast, let alone allow it to share its microbiome so recklessly. Ivy has also pointedly avoided his questions. "If it's a stray," he asks carefully, choosing his words to evoke an accurate response. "Why bring it here? Why not transport the infernal thing straight to the pound-"

Ivy gasps and foregoes protecting her face from more licks to pointlessly cover the animal's ears with her free arm and hand. "Mordecai," she admonishes through grit teeth, yellow eyes wide and judgemental. "You can't be serious? They put strays down in the pound." She uncovers the dog's ears and snuggles him close, trapping its head under her chin. "I'm going to keep him! I just have to convince someone he'll be a great addition to the cafe!"

"Wonderful," the tuxedo tom cat answers flatly, ears laying flat and eyes narrowed with resignation. He doesn't want to run into this animal again, certainly not at his place of work. Unfortunately, given their unique brand of relationship, explaining as such would only encourage Miss May to keep the thing. He'll just have to pretend not to care. Starting now. "If that's all you wished to discuss, my tea is going cold. Good evening."

"Actually," the student interjects, even pressing a boot into the space between the door and frame before it can close, bringing the dog even closer while doing so. It's difficult for Mordecai not to hiss in discomfort at the renewed proximity. "I was hoping to ask a favour."

Green eyes fixed on the mongrel within inches of his pristine home, the statement snaps his gaze to wide, hopeful yellows. Ivy looks almost as pitiful as the animal she carries, gazing up at the man her Godfather would take everywhere like his personal shadow, batting her eyelashes and offering the soft smile that always works on Viktor.

He doesn't need to hear her question. "No."

"Come on, please?" The university student begs. Apparently still oblivious to his aversion, she holds it at arm's length towards Mordecai, forcing them within an inch of each other. Its tongue lolls absently, eyes devoid of intelligent thought, and its breath is faintly tainted with an unidentifiable stench. Mordecai grimaces. "It's just one night, and Atlas is so small! He won't get in the way or anything!"

Gingerly pushing her arms - and by extension, the dog - back into the hall, Mordecai snorts humourlessly. "Naming it after my employer does not garner additional sympathy for its wretched existence," the sharpshooter responds flatly. He feels like he needs another shower just being in the same building as the creature. "What on Earth led you to believe I would willingly shelter this creature at all?"

Her mouth twisting and brows knitting together, Ivy looks away. "Actually, I… you're kinda my last choice," she admits, holding Atlas tightly as he begins to whine and squirm anew. A few gentle pets calm him down, but her eyes water when their gazes lock once more."We're not allowed to keep pets in the dorms, so I asked Viktor and Freckle and even Miss May already if he could stay, but they were all yoo busy to talk tonight. I just need time to convince someone to keep him for a night or two while I convince Atlas to keep him. Please?"

Factoring in his own sacrifices and discomforts, Mordecai can see two possible outcomes to this request. First, he can refuse to assist and force her to take the dog to the pound. While this option would make his evening more pleasant, it could also incur negative affiliations with his character, of which he already has plenty. While unbothered by their perceptions, Atlas would likely find fault, something Mordecai does care to incur.

Alternatively, he could agree to house the glorified rat for a night or two, bolster his social standing with the few people he cares for the opinions of - namely, Atlas and Viktor, who are both fond of Miss Pepper - and garner appreciation from Ivy. Factoring in time to feed and clean up after the dog, it's a substantial and exhaustive alternative, but the potential benefits could outweigh the short-term detriments.

Despite the logical analysis, Mordecai feels like he's making a mistake when he sighs and opens his door wider again. "It can stay in the bathroom tonight," he concedes, but raises a stilling palm when Ivy begins to vibrate with excitement on the threshold. "A single night, Miss Pepper. I don't have the time nor patience to coddle the mongrel beyond that."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The young feline speaks as she steps inside, bouncing on her heels as she heads for the bathroom backwards, so she can continue talking to her newest benefactor as she goes. "I'll bring him some food in the morning and go straight to Miss May to talk about Atlas after! I promise, you won't even know he's here! We just have to set him up with some old blankets for a bed."

Dark ears fold back, already regretting his decision. He'd not considered the messier components of a dog staying in his apartment, having assumed it would sleep on the tiles. "I do not own any old blankets; they are of the finest-"

"That's okay, he won't mind!" Ivy deposits the small bundle of problems onto the tiled bathroom floor and pivots straight to the airing cupboard, opening it up and extracting a slew of pristine, carefully folded sheets. To the tuxedo's horror - and before he can object - said sheets are dumped onto the likely bacteria-ridden tiled floor next to the toilet. "There! It's perfect! Now, some newspapers."

Mordecai has yet to recover from his dirtied sheets, hackles raised and tail fluffed when he dares to ask as Ivy retreats into the living area: "Newspapers?"

"Of course!" She yells from the next room, a sifting of paper as she rifles through his magazine rack. Mordecai stares at the little dog sniffing around his bathroom and the bundle of sheets with great interest. Its nose creates an obnoxious, displeasing snort with every breath, like a wheezing vacuum cleaner in dire need of a filter change. "In case he needs to go potty!"

Ivy reappears with an arm full of old broadsheets just as this new information clicks into place. The tom turns on her with a sharpness that could dislocate a lesser man's neck, his disgust evident on his usually carefully modulated muzzle. "Potty-? No, he is not… relieving himself in my bathroom. He will have to refrain until morning."

The black feline glances back to see Atlas is making himself at home in his borrowed sheets, climbing all over them while his nose works overtime. Mordecai shudders, deciding that once this ordeal is over with, he'll burn them, just to be sure whatever contaminants the beast left behind are dealt with. Ivy seems less concerned as she kneels down and sets out a number of sheets of paper. "He's a dog, not a person. He can't just hold it until you take him out."

Sitting back on her haunches, the university student studies her handiwork with a look of satisfaction. "There!" She says, leaning over to scratch behind a flopping ear. Atlas tilts his head slightly into the attention and begins jerkily twitching a back leg, his tongue lolling stupidly from his drooling maw. Ivy giggles. "You're all set, little guy! Now, be good for Uncle Mordecai, okay. Of course you will! Yes, you will!"

Mordecai watches the pair exchange idiocies with a sense of dread. He feels foolish, for being so shortsighted with his expectations. What had seemed to be a simple favour has already evolved into discomfort in his own home. The oddly overly-affectionate farewell Ivy offers the dog only intensifies those feelings, though he can't pinpoint a distinct emotion to associate it with as she kisses it's revolting head and stands back up.

"Thank you so much!" She reiterates as she turns back to the older feline lingering in the bathroom doorway. To both his surprise and relief, Ivy seems to step toward him for a hug, only to reconsider and falter at the last moment. An awkward second of silence passes before she clears her throat and edges around him, towards the front door. "I really mean it. Thank you! You saved that dog's life, Mr Heller. I'll make sure Atlas knows what a good man you are! See you tomorrow!"

She lets herself out, and Mordecai finds himself alone with a panting mongrel, the warm scents of saliva and dog seeping into the air as they stare each other down. The tuxedo tom cat wrinkles his nose, takes a step back into the living room and closes the bathroom door with care, eliminating the new problem from his peaceful evening. One night, he reassures himself as settled back into his chair, book in hand and a sip of lukewarm tea, trying to relax. How difficult can a dog be?

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theangelcatalogue · 7 days

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୨ৎ BELOW THE SURFACE ᝰ.ᐟ

୨୧┇ Platonic/Romantic! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

୨୧┇Yanderes: Zatanna, Artemis, Connor, Megan, Wally, Robin and Aqualad! (First season team!) ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

୨୧┇Female Reader! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

୨୧┇Pov characters: Y/N and Megan!

୨୧┇TW: FIGHTS(VERBAL), MOM ISSUES, SWEAR, OBSSESIVE BEHAVIOR, PROTECTIVE BEHAVIOR, ANGST(?), MANIPULATION, BAD GRAMMAR, BAD ENGLISH AND MADE BY A MINOR! NOT SURE FOR MOST OF THEM! TELL ME IF I MISSED ANYTHING

ˏˋ⋆ SUMMARY ⋮.. !?

୨୧┇ You are the sidekick and kid of a famous hero, he was/is one of the founders of the Justice League! So it didn't take long for you to join the team

୨୧┇ You felt under pressure, but everyone just ignored or said everything is going to be alright! It's normal! Everyone feels like that!

୨୧┇But you were almost going crazy! You were tired of everything, just one more thing and BOOM! You would go crazy! Maybe even give up

୨୧┇And that happend.

ˏˋ⋆ Y/N ⋮.. !?

" I am...what? "

" You heard me Y/N, you are out of the team. "

Okay, hearing it from my own mother hurts, a lot, the words just run through my head.

Out of the team, am I really out of the team?

" But why? I thought I was being useful! I was efficient in the missions I took part in! I- "

" It's more about your behavior, but it's also about your efficiency, you're not being so efficient, and I heard you weren't doing so well, you're almost freaking out, so you're going to leave the team. You're lucky I'm talking about this with you here at home! Not in front of everyone! "

Leave, wait so I have to leave the team, or am I being removed? I don't understand that

" What...? "

I can feel the impatient look in his eyes

"I said you're leaving or I'll have to remove you! You almost fucked up the missions and I know it, I was told, all because you were tired? Really? You promised me you'd make it better! "

I tried, I really fucking tried, but I can't! I wanted to ask for help, I really did! But I can't, I want to but I can't

I wish I could explain this feeling to you, but I don't think you'd understand, Mom

"I really tried! I tried!"

The words came out louder than I imagined, I didn't want to shout, but I do!

"If you'd really tried, we wouldn't be here!

" I- "

" I don't want to hear a word! "

"That can't be the only reason for this! "

Okay, I think I've made her mad, she looks at me angrily, but with a mixture of shock and disgust, perhaps weariness.

"Look, you always wanted to be a hero! So I trained you, I made you my sidekick! And it was all right, I suggested you join that team! I always noticed that you were maybe a bit.... I can't explain it, but now they're complaining to me about your behavior! They want me to help you improve, but I don't want to risk it So I decided it was better for you to leave the team, so here we are! "

Hearing that is shocking, she'd rather I left than help me and spend time with me?

"You want me to leave so YOU don't get into trouble! But as I understand it, you're doing it to protect your reputation? Because if I do something wrong, it could end up being your fault?"

I answered her angrily, maybe I'm going crazy

"I'm going through difficult things! I've already tried to talk to you about it and you act like it's nothing!"

I continued, anger burning in me, she's doing this to me, why? It's not fair!

"I'm under pressure Y/N! I feel like I'm under the surface desperate to get out! Do you understand that? "

She answers me with a tearful tone, but I sense her manipulative tone, I understand her game

"Did you ignore everything I said? I'm going through the same thing! I- "

" You treat me like I'm the villain! It's not fair to me! I'm your mother and I only want to do what's best for you! For us! "

I stay silent, not because I've given up, but because I'm shocked by what she said

"Now you understand, right? Well, I'll tell you what, you'll leave the team and after that we'll do something together! After all, you'll deserve it, I know you don't want that, but understand Mom's side!"

I don't know how I feel right now

"Now I have to leave! Batman and I have to discuss the missions of your team - I mean, your ex-team! I'll be right back! "

Is she acting as if this hasn't happened?

I want to cry, maybe scream, but I don't know what to feel, but there's something burning inside me

She goes out the door and I'm left alone in the living room, I go upstairs to my room, open the door and look around

I go in and...and I

I feel tears coming down my face, I lose my balance and fall, why am I feeling like this? I stay on the floor crouched down crying, the tears fall to the floor like falling rain or a waterfall

I get up awkwardly and remember everything, my training, my friends, everything I've been through to be able to fulfill my dream, and now I'm crying like a whiny, humiliated baby.

I don't know what I am anymore, I wonder if I'm the only one who thinks that about me, thinks that I didn't try hard enough, do others think that too?

I've put up with it for years, long years it's been

I've been through it all, nobody cared or cares, do they?

And I'm the idiot with the painted face

I'm getting out of here! I can't take it anymore, dramatic? Yes, but I've sacrificed years of my life for nothing! What can I be now?

My thoughts jumble and I look in the mirror, scars, dark circles and red eyes, this is who I am now

All for an impossible dream

Everything I've planned for years and my mother's words get mixed up, everything's a mess that I can't understand.

I can't cry anymore, and then I start laughing out of nowhere

I laugh of despair and anger

I think I've reached my limit

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

ˏˋ⋆ MEGAN/MISS MARTIAN ⋮.. !?

"Nothing?" Connor asked me impatiently for I don't know how long.

"No! Maybe they are out of my reach! I can't find her! " I answered him, we've been looking for Y/N for days.

Nothing yet

"I told you we should have put trackers on her! " Connor said to Robin, getting impatient.

" Stay calm Superboy, we'll find Y/N, no matter where she is! " Aqualad replied calmly

"I still don't understand what happened! Maybe she was kidnapped? " Zatanna asked

"There was no sign of it, maybe she ran away! " Robin replied thoughtfully

"Let's ask M/N! Maybe she has an idea of what happened!" Kid Flash confidently suggested

"It's a good idea Kid, but there's something wrong with Miss M/N! Maybe she's hiding something... " I said thinking, I'm not lying, Miss M/N was acting peculiar, she looked guilty, very guilty.

"I'll look at the cameras in Y/N's house! Come on " Robin took out his device and started trying to get into the cameras

" I've done it! Now we have a clue in our hands! "

We decided to watch the recording, we saw everything with audio, from the argument to the moment Y/N left the room through the window

Oh no.

୨ৎ NOTES ୨ৎ

୨୧┇Worst thing i have wrote in the story of this blog! :3

୨୧┇Azula themed cause go girlfailure!

୨୧┇I know this is bad as fuck hsuiw8w8widjdjjssjakkan help

୨୧┇THANKS FOR READING SORRY IF THIS DON'T MAKE SENSE!!! 😿

୨୧┇Also M/N means Mother/Mom name's! Your mom name!

୨୧┇Idk what to say i just ily you all

୨୧┇*Sends virtual hugs for you*

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quillthrillswriting · 18 days

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aang being a bad parent is CHARACTER ASSASSINATION and i won't stand for it. i just know that him and katara wouldn't be focused on just passing on bending, but the *teachings* and ideals of both of their tribes to all their children, regardless of bending status.

OR, aang and katara become parents and aang finds out that parenting is his proudest achievement, more so than stopping a hundred year war or holding the position of avatar

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Of all the battles he had fought as the Avatar, all the struggles through which he had prevailed, Aang thought that perhaps parenthood was his life’s true proudest achievement. He’d known from the moment Katara had found out that they’d be parents that she’d be a wonderful mother, but he’d be lying if he said that he had been entirely confident in his own abilities.

---

Despite the many hats he had to wear for work, he always made a point of coming home to Katara as much as he possibly could. What was being the Avatar for, if not to use his abilities to race home to the love of his life?

---

Their third child, Tenzin, had immediately been identified as an airbender by Aang. He told Katara that he could just feel it, he could see it in the way his son moved through the air , waving his hands as if the oxygen itself was a tangible thing he could touch. As Bumi grew up, it was clear that he would be much more calm and stern than his two rambunctious siblings, perhaps in an unconscious attempt to balance them out.

Aang taught him the airbending traditions the same way he continued to teach Tenzin’s siblings- he brought the three, along with Katara when she could take a break from work, to the air temples to aid in their restoration. He taught Tenzin the airbending forms, but he taught him in a group, with his other two siblings. For Kya, the airbending forms were applicable to her own waterbending, and for Bumi, they were a way for him to better understand the flow of chi through the body and calm his energetic nature.

---

“Do you think they’re going to turn out alright?” Katara asked, and both pride and nervousness were present in her tone. “Are we doing a good job?”

Aang smiled softly at her, wrapping his arm around her smaller frame. “For a couple with only one parent between the two of us, I think we’re doing alright.”

Katara’s only response was a laugh and a splash of water to his face from the water she carried at her hip. She carefully bent it back into the bottle.

“They’re doing wonderfully.” Aang looked into the courtyard, where Kya and Bumi were locked in the mud, Kya bending mud-balls and Bumi throwing them back at her, while Tenzin tried in vain to get between them. “We have beautiful kids, Katara. Beautiful souls, too. The air nomad culture will live through them. It doesn’t matter if just Tenzin is an airbender- what the nomads would have wanted to be passed on is their way of life .”

♥ check out the rest of the (completed) fic & my ao3 here! ->

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drpoisonoaky · 10 days

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I love the fire siblings being good sibling bc they deserve it, but the dynamic of zuko not loving azula at all it’s quite interesting.

I really want to try to write more about that.

#if you want to give me some ideas…#i have wip but #a little oneshot never hurt anyone #atla #azula #zuko #fire siblings

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broadwaybalogna · 15 days

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Final Zutara ff I’ve written so far. If you have any prompts you’d like to read! Let me know!

[Zutara] oneshot! Modern AU in which Katara and Zuko are going to prom❤️

TW: body dysmorphia

Katara knew she was pretty.

The words of past friends and family stuck with her over the years. Gawks from people telling her how beautiful she is and how lucky her boyfriend must be.

Katara understood that she was objectively pretty.

So why didn’t she feel like it?

Katara looked at herself in the mirror. Her long dress fell to the ground around her shoes and she studied herself. The dress itself was flawless. It was a long burgundy dress with a long slit on her left leg. It was a one shoulder dress with that flared the dramatics once it reached her chest. The dress had a separate piece of fabric that ruffled and formed into an abstract rose shape.

Zuko had chosen it.

She sized herself up, adding some finishing touches to her hair that was in a loose bun. She looked at herself again and turned to her side.

She self-consciously held her open arm over her chest. Over the years she’s spent in high school, her chest hadn’t grown any more than a B cup. She held a piece of the dresses fabric in her hand and scrunched it. She hated doing this to herself, constantly criticizing her looks. But she couldn’t stop, the endless criticisms toward herself never seemed to end.

Her stomach seemed to bulge out of the dress. It wasn’t completely flat in the dress unless she sucked in her stomach and held it. That, however, was beyond exhausting. She stood straight in the mirror and looked forward again. The small curves in her body felt overemphasized in the dress. She hugged herself as she stared, unmoving.

A knock on her bedroom door finally unfroze her.

”Come on, perfectionist! We’re gonna be late!” Sokka yelled at her, only half joking.

”Got it,” Katara replied, rolling her eyes.

Katara picked at her hair again, messing with the few loose strands to make sure they were perfect. She grabbed her clutch that was laying on her bed before staring at herself in the mirror again. She let her head fall and rubbed the back of the neck (an anxious habit she had picked up over the years).

Another knock at her door.

”Sokka, Jesus, I’m-“ she was interrupted by the door opening to reveal Zuko.

He was wearing a fitted black suit with blue accents (she chose it for him). His hair wasn’t as messy as he usually left it, but it was still maintained. Katara couldn’t help but smile at his appearance.

”I thought you were waiting downstairs?” Katara questioned, feeling a bit more guilty about her tardiness than before.

”I wanted to see you before everyone else,” he spoke, walking up to her and giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

”Mmm-“ she pulled away, “lipstick”.

”Right,” he rolled his eyes. He lowered her head to press another kiss on the crown of her head. When Katara looked back up, Zuko’s face had contorted into a look of confusion.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

”Yeah, why?”

”The back of your neck is red,” he explained.

”Oh,” Katara distantly replied, slightly turning her head from him.

”What’s bothering you?” He led her to the foot of her bed where they both sat down. He took Katara’s hand in his own and she squeezed back.

”I don’t know. I guess I just…” she struggled to find the words to explain her feelings, “for lack of a better term, wish I liked my body more?” She offered an awkward smile. Although she phrased the statement as a question, Katara still felt tears begin to well up in her eyes.

Zuko nodded and let out a hum.

”I think there are parts of ourselves that we all fail to understand and accept,” he finally began after a long pause. “I mean, look at me. I have a huge scar on my face but you sit next to me and tell me how beautiful it makes me.”

”Well, your face would be boring without it.” Katara lightly joked.

”The same goes for you.” At this, Katara’s smile faded. “Whatever you may dislike about yourself, I know I love it more than you could imagine.”

Katara let out a sigh. “Yeah.”

”Seriously, Kat! I mean, I love women for their personalities more than their bodies one hundred percent, don’t forget that— but literally everything about you is beautiful in my eyes. I mean, it might actually be a problem how rose tinted my glasses are when looking at you.”

Katara laughed.

”We all have things we’re insecure about, yeah. But I think the opinions that matter most are those closest to us and can best shape us to love ourselves the most. If that even makes sense.”

”it was perfectly worded.”

”Good. Now, can I please share a kiss with you on the lips?”

Katara pretended to think for a moment before pressing her lips against his own.

”Oh my god, lovebirds, hurry up. He have a reservation!” Sokka called from downstairs Katara’s bedroom.

”Right, we’re going to prom,” Zuko smiled.

“Can’t we stay here instead?” Katara complained, only slightly serious.

”We could… but the tickets were eighty dollars,” he argued.

Katara smiled and stood up. Zuko followed suit and once again, took her hand in his.

”Ready?” He asked.

”As long as you are.”

#angst #atla katara #katara #zuko #atla zuko #zutara #oneshot #fanfiction #writing prompt

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animation-cartoon-fan-writings · 3 months

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Please Don’t Go

Originally written for Zutara Month 2023

The final Agni Kai between Zuko and Azula comes to a head. Zuko is winning. This is the most powerful he has ever felt in his entire life. His entire body was calling on him to egg his sister on, not even realizing the consequences that may come with it. "What? No lightning? What's the matter? Afraid I'll redirect it?," he mocks his visibly unstable sister. In the back of his head, he knows he is playing with fire, and not the type of fire he is used to. Maybe it was the influence of Sozin's Comet going to his head or perhaps it's the adrenaline from the fight. But he was confident he would succeed, not even thinking about the possibility of what was about to happen.

Azula prepares to shoot as Zuko gets into position, ready to redirect whatever she threw at him. A sadistic smile creeps across the princess's face, like she was ready to kill her brother without a slither of remorse. Suddenly, her eyes dart to another direction and shoots a large bolt directly in that direction. Azula never misses. Even on her worst days, every shot was intentional. Realizing what was happening, Zuko turns and sees a familiar shade of blue. Katara. Frozen in fear as the lighting flies across the arena right towards her. Zuko runs to try and intercept the lightening in time, but he is too late. He trips as the lightening reaches the water bender. "NO!," he cries as the bolt hits her in the heart. Time feels like it is going by at a snail-rat's pace as he can only watch the young tribeswoman's body fall to the ground.

"Katara!," Zuko cries as he immediately gets up and runs over to her, hoping against all hope that she was going to be ok. He feels like he is back in that ghost town in the desert, right after Azula shot a bolt into Iroh's shoulder, sending the old man into a coma-like state that lasted for days. As he gets on his knees, kneeling over Katara's body, lying in a pool of blood, he could feel the life slowly slipping from her. "Katara, please wake up," he holds her limp, delicate frame in his arms. "Zuko... I-I'm sorry," her eyes crack open slightly, her voice quiet and strained. "It's ok. I'm here now. It's going to be ok. You're going to be ok. You just gotta stay with me," he assures her through the hot tears falling down his face. "Z-zuko, I-I-I'm so ss-sorry. I c-c-can't-t-t...". Katara's eyes slowly start to flutter to a close.

The fire bender feels her body getting cold, so he heats his body temperature and holds her to his chest, hoping the heat will keep her alive just a bit longer. "Katara, don't worry. I'm heating you up. Everything's going to be ok," he keeps telling her. "I-I c-c-caa-nn't feel y-yyour waa-rmthh," her voice barely going above a whisper. "Katara, no, please stay. Sokka will be here with everyone soon. We'll take you to the healers and you'll be ok. You have to be. Please, stay with me," he pleads with her, even though he knows in his heart it's no use. "D-d-don't-t-t-t w-w-wor-r-ry-y-y ab-b-b-bout-t-t me-e-e-e. I-I-I-II'll b-b-b-be o-o-k-k," she whispers, smiling one last time before her eyes finally close. "No! Katara, please! Don't go! I love you," he sobs as he finally admits how he feels out loud for the first time. "I love you, Katara. Please... don't go".

Zuko holds her limp body close to his chest as he cries out for her to stay with him. “Please, Katara. We need you, I need you. Please wake up,” he begs her through his tears. But it was too late. Katara takes her final breath in the arms of the fire prince.

As the comet finally exits the earth and the dark, nighttime sky blanket over the Fire Nation, Zuko stays on the ground in the arena. Everyone has already left. Azula had been taken away by guards hours ago. The Sages went back to the palace. All that was left was Zuko, sobbing with Katara’s lifeless corpse in his arms. Suddenly, a familiar orange glider flies over the arena, swiftly landing just feet from the prince. Aang had returned. But Zuko was too upset to care anymore. "Zuko, what happened?," the Airbender asks as he runs over to his two friends. "Katara... she's dead. I thought Azula was going to aim at me. I thought I could redirect it. But she aimed at Katara. I ran to intercept the hit. But, I tripped and fell before I could get to it in time. Azula bent lightning to her heart and killed her," the prince replies sadly, still holding her close to his chest, refusing to let her go. "You were going to intercept Azula's lightning?," the Avatar asks. "Yeah," Zuko responds. "Wouldn't that have killed you?," Aang questions.

"Yeah. I wouldn't have cared if it did. As long as she got to live"

Silence falls between the two boys. Zuko doesn't even look away from the girl in his arms. He didn't want to. He would've happily stayed there for the rest of his life if he had to. He couldn't bare to let her go.

Suddenly, Aang gets up and goes to fetch Katara’s bag on the ground nearby. After a few minutes of searching through it, he finds what he's looking for. He takes the vial in his hand and goes back over to sit on the ground beside Zuko. "Here," he presents Zuko with the vial. "What's this?," he asks, confused. "It's the spirit water from the North Pole. I had a feeling there was some left. There's only a little bit, but it just might be enough to save Katara," the Airbender explains, much to Zuko's surprise. "How do you know if it'll work?"

"Azula killed me with her lightning back at Ba Sing Se. It was the spirit water that brought me back."

Aang can feel Zuko was still doubtful of this idea.

"You love her, don't you?," he asks all of a sudden, taking Zuko a back. "Yes, I do," he answers, simply. "Then, let me try and bring her back," Aang offers. The fire bender nods, laying Katara's body down on her back, allowing Aang to bend the tiny amount of spirit water into her heart. With that bright blue light entering her bloodstream, Zuko takes her back into his arms, hoping that it worked.

As if the god Agni himself was truly shining over them all, Katara's eyes begin to slowly flutter open and Zuko feels her breathing starting to beat again. "Z-Zuko...," she speaks again. Tears of joy pour down as he sees his love come back to life, taking her into his arms for a hug. "Katara, you're ok. You came back," he rasps as he feels her hug him back. She pulls back slightly from the hug, smiling up at him with a glimmer in her eyes.

"Zuko... I love you, too," Katara confesses. He couldn't believe his ears. She had heard those last words spoken to her and she felt the same way. Zuko couldn't help himself. In the only way he could respond in that moment, Zuko captures her lips with his own in a passionate kiss. She returns the kiss with equal passion.

It was in that very moment, with Katara by his side, Zuko truly felt invincible