#[ scuttling back to the void ]

[theviridianbunny]

we've drunk a couple bottles babe, and set our grief aside

[piplupod]

hello mutuals and others i have connected with here over the years, i hope u are all doing as well as u can be

[eosofspades]

emerald, burgundy and mustard muah 💕 also so proud of you for getting into college, beloved mutual!!!

THANK U IRIDESCENT MUTUAL I LOVE U IRIDESCENT MUTUAL

mustard burgundy emerald back at you !!! flamingo also tbh. but like /affectionate

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

So of course we've all seen the smut where the ghoul eats you out while on your period...... and my question is this...... do you think that is strictly the ghoul thing? Because of the cannibalism? Or did Cooper prewar already have his red wings? He seems the type to do ANYTHING to make his girl feel better if you catch my drift. Just a thought 😂🤭

It's absolutely not just a cannibalism-related thing; while, ironically, I don't really see Prewar!Cooper Howard as someone who would really enjoy the iron-heavy taste of blood/very rare meat/game-type meat all that much, you are 110% correct in saying that he would do anything to make his partner feel better.

Plus, he's just a munch in general. If he wants to eat pussy, he wants to eat pussy now, not in 4-7 days. It being a little medium-rare doesn't bother him at all.

I didn't intend for this to end up this long. I just sat down to answer this ask real quick and suddenly I had like 2,500 words. I guess you could call it a spiritual prequel to "Bloodletting".

There are a lot of things you don't enjoy about being a person who menstruates. There are also a lot of things you don't enjoy about living in California, namely the summers with their unforgiving heat and brain-frying sun.

Menstruation in the California summer is downright unfair.

After a long day of enduring your body's seemingly intense resentment towards you, you feel disgusting when you finally make it to the home you share with your fiance and immediately drag yourself into a scalding hot shower. Cooper often likes to joke that you're trying to boil yourself in there, playfully chastise that it isn't good for your skin, but the way the heat seeps into your sore muscles is like a siren's call. Once the tap runs cold, you begrudgingly dry yourself, pulling your damp hair up and away from your neck and shoulders before rummaging through the medicine cabinet for something to hopefully ease the ache in your cramping abdominal muscles.

Too tired and sore to worry about scrounging up any food, you throw your still lightly-damp, nude body into your unmade bed and pull the top sheet around you. Normally, the thing would be nicely made before you left the house for the day, but since Cooper left long before you and it fell to you to do the making today, it simply hadn't happened. Cranky, you offer the sleeping dog curled up at the foot a few scratches on his sweet head before closing your eyes and getting in a short, fitful nap.

The familiar jangle of Cooper's keys in the front lock tugs you out of the dreamless void you'd fallen into at some point, and you smile briefly as you hear Roosevelt scuttle off from where he'd been watching over you towards the door. After a moment, you can hear the garbled greetings the older man gives his furry companion, the first step in his homecoming routine, with which you are now intimately familiar. The next step is to shed his boots and jacket, then to drop his keys and the mail on the small table inside the door.

"Honey?" he calls, footsteps moving your way. The two of you spoke on the phone around lunch and he had received a rather generous earful of your complaints.

"I'm here." you respond, turning to face the ceiling groggily as he enters.

"My poor sugar." he laments, the mattress sinking on one side as he sits down beside you, one warm hand patting your back sympathetically. Roosevelt sits briefly beside the bed, watching you curiously, but Cooper dismisses him to his bed in the living room softly, and the dog obeys quietly. "I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick. Can I get you something to take first? Or the hot water bottle, maybe?"

"I already took something, I'm just waiting for it to kick in." you reply, eyes closed as you try to soothe your abdominals with the warmth of your bare hands. "I would take the hot water bottle if you're offering, though."

You cuddle the warm sack of rubber he fetches for you, holding it snug against your stomach under the top sheet as you listen to the sounds of him quickly hopping into and out of the shower. When he emerges, you can see a faint amount of steam seep into the bedroom, as opposed to the thick clouds that typically roll out when you're finished.

"Feeling any better, sweetheart?" he asks, leaning down to kiss at your bare shoulder.

"Eh, sort of." you respond, smiling at the feeling of his lips on your back. The tickling feeling combined with the smell of his body wash encompassing you makes you clench a little, which both fans the low-burning coals in your gut that always smoulder around him and makes another cramp rip through you, sending you whining.

"Aww, poor thing." he coos, petting at your leg and knee. "Did you try anything else?"

"The stuff I took earlier is working okay, and the water bottle is nice." you say, setting the thing aside as you sit up to look at him. There's just a touch more white in the salt-and-pepper of his sideburns now than there was when you originally met him, but you find it very appealing. "I just wish everything wasn't so tight and tense, you know?"

"I hear you." he says, lips moving along your forehead. "I could try making you feel better, if you'd let me."

You chuckle in response, tossing yourself down flat in a dramatic display of exhaustion.

"If you can figure out how, be my guest."

Your words bring a massive grin to his face, and suddenly he's planted himself down between your knees, hands running along your inner thighs and rapidly up towards your mound.

"Cooper, what're you--" you begin, but he cuts you off with a gentle shushing and a light massage to your tight thigh muscles.

"Just lie back and let me help you." he says, lying down flat with his shoulders right even with your knees. He peppers kisses from your navel, down the little trail of soft, downy hair that leads to your mons before ghosting his lips back and forth, back and forth across the skin. It raises goosebumps on your skin almost instantly in anticipation.

"Honey." you huff as another cramp balls up in your middle at the sensation. "Don't tease."

"M'sorry, my girl." he apologizes. "I'll make it better."

Only a moment later, you're crying out as he spreads you open gently with his hands and finds your aching little bud with the tip of his tongue. He doesn't like rare meat all that much, from what you've seen, so you're not sure how crazy he is about the taste of blood, but he doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue fully along your wet, sensitive slit, using the wriggling muscle to worship every inch of you until your vision is full of stars.

The tension in your abdomen increases as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm, your legs quickly moving up to wrap around his head of their own accord, holding him tight in place with his lips and tongue against your clit. Eventually, you feel his fingers gently swiping around your entrance, and the gasp that leaves you when he slips two of them inside of you is echoed by a low groan from your partner. Your hands are knotted tight in the disheveled sheets, your hips bucking and grinding against Cooper's face like they have a mind of their own.

The rhythm he's playing against your bud increases as you whine and cry out his name again, and by the time he's made you cum for the third time, he's visibly grinding his hips against the mattress, licking and sucking at your skin until you tug on his hair for mercy.

His lips and chin are streaked in scarlet as he pulls himself back up, grinning down at you as he pivots to settle on his hip beside you, his warm, softly calloused hand hand still stroking your thigh lovingly as you ride out your last few scant shivers.

"Feel any better now?" he asks as he takes in your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. You roll your eyes playfully, kicking softly in his direction, only to be undercut by him seizing your foot in his hand and peppering it with kisses, making you squeal with laughter.

"Alright, I feel a lot better." you admit when you finally calm down. You sit up a ways, nuzzling beneath his chin, planting wet kisses there and feeling him shiver in response. "But I still think you should have to split these stupid things with me. Or find a way to stop them, maybe. Write some scientists a check or something."

"Oh, I can stop them, sweetheart." he says bawdily, tucking his chin to tease your throat with his tongue as your hand moves to rest on his cheek. "For about a year, a least."

The hand resting on his cheek moves to the back of his head, threading into the thick, dark hair there and gently pressing there to usher him down towards you until your lips meet once more. He knows this is a hot button for both of you, and you want to chastise him for being such a tease. However, your mind is too foggy.

As he leans further towards you, tongue pushing deeper into your mouth, your hand is finally able to find what it's been seeking. His erection is already throbbing in your grip as you stroke him through his boxers, a groan seeping through his nostrils as he pulls back from your kiss. Despite this, you hook your leg around his hip the best you can, attempting to tug him back down between your legs.

"Coop." you whisper, pushing your hips at his.

"You don't have to do that, sweetheart." he says, eyes clenched as tight as his sudden grip on the bed sheets curled around his left hand. You know he wants to fuck you, that he needs to cum after everything he's given you; the evidence is in your hand. However, you also know he'll deny himself for your sake.

"Let me take care of you." you whisper, lips tracing along his throat as your hand continues to work him, concentrating your movements towards the tip and earning a genuine whimper from him. The throaty, vulnerable sound from him makes your entire gut clench, and your lips latch onto his stubbly throat, your tongue lathing his freshly bathed skin.

"I took care of you because I wanted to help you feel better. I don't need anything in return." he replies, his voice low and quiet as he strains to keep it even.

"I want you to feel better, too."

Your hand is fully stroking him again, and by the time you notice the growing wet spot near your hand, he's leaning down and forcing his tongue back into your mouth, sighing contently as he pulls himself back between your legs. One hand softly kneads your left breast, his weight balanced on his elbow and knee as he works his shorts down, kicking them off the foot of the bed absentmindedly.

A subconscious sigh leaves you as you drink in the sight of him, his leaking cock laying, flushed red and painfully hard, against his toned stomach. Trying your best to ignore the way he smirks at you, easy as you wrap your legs around his hips, his hand moving between you to guide himself teasingly along your entrance. You sigh his name when the head of him finally catches and sinks fluidly into your warmth.

Your tense pelvic muscles ache in protest for a passing moment as they adjust to him, to his weight pressing into you, but as you breathe deep, the stretch eases away some of the strain, leaving you sighing with relief as he begins to gently fuck you.

He's soft and slow to begin with, watching your face closely as you adjust to him, burying his face in your neck and latching onto it with his lips as you finally take him to the hilt.

"Oh, Cooper." you sigh, gripping hard at his shoulders as you grind your clit against his pubic bone, the soft texture of his pubic hair adding to the mountain of sensations he's making you experience. "I needed this so bad."

Your admission seems to only fuel him, groaning as his fingers move to strum at your clit again, pressing practiced circles around the swollen little nub just like you'd shown him to do. The rough feeling of the small callous he has on his trigger finger drives you absolutely mad with pleasure, making you tighten around him as you cry out.

"Fuck, baby, I've been thinking about this all day." he confesses in a low, hushed tone as his hips continue to slap against yours, still mindful of where his weight is placed over you, but growing steadily more forceful in his movements. Soon, he has you built up into a sweaty mess, crying out for more of his touch, more of him in general as he holds your hips tight.

"I'm gonna cum, Coop." you pant, face red hot and damp as the rest of you as he continues to work back and forth between your thighs. The sudden feeling of his white teeth, sharp and strong, digging into the crook of your neck makes you whimper, and the sound seems to teleport him right to the exact same spot you're in.

"Shit, me too." he hisses, lips and tongue still attacking your neck as his hips quickly lose their rhythm, driving hard into you once, twice, three more times before he pulls back and shoots his load all over your soft stomach, growling like a wild animal as jet after jet of thick, sticky cum coats your flushed skin.

Once you've both come down from your high, you wiping pitifully at your sweaty face as he extracts himself from you as gently as possible, hand threading through his damp hair, you both chuckle, lying on your sides facing one another at the foot of the bed, catching your breaths. He grabs for your hand like he always does after you make love, holding it snug in the palm of his own as you bask in the afterglow.

The only difference now is that there's an engagement ring on your hand for him to play with. Seeing it on you seems to make him swell with pride, and that makes you feel warm inside.

"How does a nice, hot bath and some takeout sound?" he asks eventually, running his lips along your forehead as his hands massage at your lower back.

"Sounds amazing." you smirk, pulling back a few inches to look at him mischievously. "But I already had a super long, hot shower when I got home. Is double dipping allowed?"

Smirking at your coy playfulness, he pulls you up into his lap and snug against his chest, both of you wincing slightly at the slick, wet feeling of the mess all over both of your stomachs. The man never fails to produce quite a bit.

"Normally, I'd say no." he fires back matter-of-factually. "But considering the circumstances, I'll allow it this one time."

"You did make quite the mess." you chastise, but your words are quickly interrupted by him quickly snatching you up, hefting you into the air as he takes a moment to balance you both before making his way into the en suite bathroom.

"Well, one could argue that the mess is at least partially your fault, but I'm willing to take responsibility for my part and help tidy you up." he chuckles as he carries you towards the tub. "I'm very thorough in my cleaning."

"Promise?" you chuckle suggestively.

"Promise." he winks.

[anamelessfool]

A Young Nihil & Jocasta & Kid Terzo Drabble (wc 1900)

Nihil returns from a tour with an even colder reception than usual. But he's not one to worry. He gets by with a little help from his friends. Tags: Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Platonic Bonds, No Plot Really Just Me Sorta Waffling Around, The Most Basic German You'll Ever Read In Your Life, If You Read The Most Recent Violence and Gentleness Chapter This Hits Harder, Our Loveable Fuckup

I keep thinking my latest work is the most self-indulgent thing I ever make, and then this happens. Dedicated to @saintbowie who asked me "What was the worst gift Jocasta has ever received?" and I thought about it for a long while. Also @historian-crown who said "Yes, this is exactly what I'd say if I got a gift that bad" and helped me out. Thanks. @ghuleh-recs thanks for catching up on your reading too haha

1971

Ministry HQ

It felt like there were less and less Siblings out on the Ministry portico every time Nihil came back from a gig. He liked to assume the best and so he decided life around HQ was oftentimes too busy for an official welcome of the Head of the Satanic Church of the Void. For one thing, he knew Secondo’s mother Rebecca would not be out there. At this point in their relationship they communicated solely through written memos on formal letterhead. Sister Imperator, the Dark Mother, would oftentimes scowl out the window at him from her office but even she hadn't bothered this time.

Nihil’s ghouls exchanged shrugs while they stood alone on the gravel drive, then marched in near unison through the front door. At least somebody left it unlocked.

The ghouls filed into the empty foyer, and quickly lined the perimeter with trunks and instrument cases. A certain restlessness came over Nihil as he watched them wordlessly stack their things around him, building up the walls. If they were summoned by him, if they were his servitors and constructs then they had an attunement to his emotions. He had a swell time this tour circut. So why were they making themselves so busy? Why with every trunk that rolled in did he feel the ties that bound them to his Will go slack?

Jet lag, obviously.

“You uh…wanna play some records up in my rooms? Wonder if my Ethio Jazz record I wanted came in…”

Rigor Ghoul, Papa’s head ghoul and keyboardist, crossed his huge arms. He was kind, but honest. Sometimes a bit too honest for his summoner’s liking. NO. WE CAN'T. GHOUL BUSINESS.

“Right,” chuckled Nihil. “Well, enjoy.”

Rigor gave him a noble nod, a polite clap on the shoulder, then led the rest of the ghouls up the stairs to their Roost. Nihil decided to abandon the towers of luggage in search for some sort of interaction, but the halls rang impressively hollow as his Chelsea boots clicked along the marble.

At last one of his flock emerged from a side hallway, balancing a basket of laundry in her arms and shuffling with determination over to the washer. Nihil grinned expectantly, and the sibling did a quick bob of her head over the pile of linens before sidestepping and scuttling away. Papa Nihil rubbed his jaw, considering.

Damn man, when Sister Imperator said you were down you really were down.

There was some friendly chatter from the common room, at least. It was two voices he recognized, two people he actually looked forward to seeing. By the empty fireplace, posed amidst a chaos of creativity, was his Protégée Papessa-Elect Jocasta and his youngest son Terzo. Two beings that didn’t hastily find something to be busy with when he approached.

“Oh, welcome! Welcome back Papa!” Jocasta waved from her place on the carpet. Terzo lounged beside her, legs twisted in an impossible sitting position as he picked colored pencils from a tin. The whole floor was scattered with old birthday cards and magazine cuttings. A glue brush planted across its pot dripped glue on the carpet in slow syrupy strands.

“A yellow dress would look good for this one,” she suggested to Terzo. She herself wore a pretty polyester suit of bright orange with a matching scarf to hold up her golden hair. Terzo was working on an obvious recreation of her look for one of the paper dolls in his collection.

“You're a sight for sore eyes, doll,” Nihil leered. Jocasta threw him a wry wink, the whitened Infernal Eye in her skull a weird comfort for him to see after a few weeks on the road.

What he first thought could be a possible fling with an exotic woman in a bar became something completely different, something more. She wandered over to the stage and said she was inspired. He had inspired her. His work. His art.

For once the devil in Nihil didn't raise its head and sniff the air. He couldn't switch on that flirty little part of himself as he looked at her in that half dark New York club. Staring down at her from the stage, a foot and a half above her so she had to strain her neck to really look in his eyes when she confessed. He couldn't touch her. Not when she was that small below him. Not when her red eyes wept black smears.

“It's my first night here,” she had said, and more tears washed the black down her cheeks. Her voice was dark, thick with an accent that she struggled to suppress. “It's my first night here and want to follow you.”

What could he possibly say to that? His mouth stretched into a dopey smile as he brought out a hand to her. She took it. “Just say yes, babe.”

He brought his attention back to the present. Jocasta smiled at him. After a day's travel with masked silent ghouls it was the first smile he'd seen. “And how was the flight?”

“Oh not too bad, gonna sleep it off later,” he said. “You cats having fun?”

Jocasta was his odd daughter, his right hand. She knew so much already but was always eager for more. Always striving in a way that scared him a little. He had a tough time on the road before joining the Church, and he could sense that hungry drive from anywhere. But he had buried it deep long ago.

And then Sister had chosen her. Chosen her for his Protegee. Or, the Void did, in all the strange and unearthly ways it whispered to the Dark Mother. Nihil had watched her endure the Rite of Construct that he himself had blotted from his mind except for the occasional nightmare. They've suffered. They've fucked up. They survived. So whenever he looked at the dead-alive eye in her skull above her smirking lips a protective feeling came over him, a tide of true responsibility. It was a feeling that brought up memories of Primo. Primo, a few seconds old, in his arms.

Primo…wherever you are…

“Where's Secondo, now?” Nihil asked.

“He did not want to play paper dolls with us,” said Jo, exchanging a nod with Terzo.

Secondo had been cold and bitter about Terzo ever since the lad’s unexpected arrival. “I was on tour of Europe..what's a few souvenirs?” Nihil had joked, once and only once and never ever again, to Secondo’s mother.

No matter, Secondo had been adjusting to his new role…for almost two years. He'd come around. Brothers always do, right? And like all of Nihil’s dark concerning considerations, it passed over him as quickly as a brisk summertime cloud. His mouth creaked back into a smile. “Right on,” he said, and sat cross-legged on the ground with as much grace as his bandy legs would allow.

“Oh, hi,” said Terzo. He was cutting out a pre-printed red dress for the dolls propped in their cigar box; a two-dimensional hot tub party. He bit his lip, his big green eyes blazing with intensity. He constantly tripped over himself but if there was a challenge he'd give it his all. Every little nuanced divot of the paper dress's puffed sleeves needed to be freed with the most precision a six year old with safety scissors could obtain.

“I got you a present here, my boy.” Nihil waggled his eyebrows at his son. “In Canada they got all different types of candy, yanno. I heard this one was the best.”

Terzo took the brightly colored candy bar from his father’s hands, but frowned as he bent it in a way that shouldn't be possible. Right. Nihil winced.

“Er…must have got too hot— Just throw that in the fridge, it’ll be fine,” suggested Nihil. Terzo continued to squish the melted remains trapped in the wrapper, mesmerized.

Jo laughed and for a moment everything was groovy until a realization hit him like a freight train. Gifts. He forgot one for her. His very own protégée. His long fingers drummed on his knees as he added, “Oh, and uh— I got something for you too of course, uh—” He launched himself into a scour of his sport coat, his face getting hot with shame. Luckily he never really thought to ever clear out his pockets, which meant that there was a dragon’s hoard of hotel matchbooks, used saxophone reeds and phone numbers scribbled onto bar napkins. And a gift for Jocasta, if he tried and wished hard enough.

“Jesas— no, no you did not have to get me anything, please don't worry, I'm perfectly fine!” No, it wasn’t fine at all.

Shit. “Haha no I had to, yanno— you're like uh…like uh…” The only person other than Terzo that smiles at me anymore. “Gimmie a minute, it's in here somewhere!”

His fingers closed around their prize. Something in the pocket close to his heart. Of course. He always came out on top. The power of keeping it cool triumphs once again. He drew it from his sport coat in a theatrical sweep, presenting it to his ward with a rubbery open-mouthed smile of victory.

It was a pen he got from some businessman sitting next to him on the PanAm flight that liked his style. A photo of a blonde with big hair and sultry eyes leered from the side of it. The pen when turned downward dropped the woman’s black dress and left nothing to the imagination. Jocasta let out a little squeak through her nose that Nihil decided came from a place of amused approval. Terzo silently considered the pen and then his own paper doll collection.

“Oh, it’s…” Jocasta’s mouth cracked into a fiendish grin as she played with the pen in her hands, muttering something under her breath.

“Deppatta,” Terzo parroted.

Jocasta’s eyes widened, the smile fading in mock solemnity. She leaned close, squinting. “No no it's not that— now listen… Du. De-pehr-ter. Faster. Du Depperter.”

“Du Depperter.”

Jocasta clapped her hands and Terzo brightened. “Yes, that’s it!”

“Du Depperter! Du Depperter!” The two of them began a spirited chant. Terzo choked and howled and doubled over, laughing. Jocasta joined in, wiping her eye.

“Yeah, exactly, right on,” Nihil chuckled, albeit a bit bashfully. I really should learn German, he thought to himself. Maybe tomorrow. Got plenty of time now. Until the next gig.

Jocasta wrapped an arm around him, giving him a quick peck across the cheek. “I love it though, I really do love it. Thank you.”

“Oh, good!” And he didn't have to worry about anything ever again, until there was something else to worry about. Nihil craned over Terzo’s project. “And what we making today, sport?”

Terzo presented a homemade paper doll from the cigar box. She had a red-lipped smirk and raven hair. Green eyes to match his own. Nihil remembered vaguely this particular one was his son’s favorite. “She needs roller skates.”

“Course she does, all the cool chicks need skates,” said Nihil, gesturing for some supplies. Terzo dropped some crayons and a scrap of old birthday card in his father’s hands. “I saw some real hot ones on a girl in Venice Beach once.”

Jo gave him a nudge and a wink. “Let me know if you need a pen.”

My Fic List | Other Nihil HC Stuff (AO3)

Du Depperter: "You idiot" (affectionate)

[aylish91]

A Den Of Snakes

@seirindono I promised you a story about nagas a while ago but remembered you also liked mob/mafia aus. So this little piece started poking around my brain. New Au? Maybe? Don’t know, but I hope you like it!

Sorry if there are any mistakes, my computer has been a little glitchy lately and skips over a lot of stuff. haha!

~ ~ ~

A black and red-bellied naga lounged behind a grand desk drumming his gold-laden phalanges against the hard wood. The clicks from the sharp tipped claws were slow and methodical, prickling the hair on your neck as the man who escorted you scuttled from the room. A brief glance back revealed another standing in the corner, darker blue scales fading into a light underbelly. 

Both wore impeccable suits, fedoras casting eerie shadows over their faces. 

Both, were heads of the mafia…

Unfortunately for you, you were learning things tonight. Some more important than others, but all things you wished you had known before. Like finding out the mafia existed or that it wasn’t a connotation when you had heard people being called Snakes. 

They were, in fact, giant man-eating snakes or those who worked for one.

Before moving here, you would have sworn mobs and mafias no longer existed. But here you were, holding a package filled with who knows what, while a concerningly large naga monster stared you down. To make matters worse, his upper half was that of a skeleton, piercing red orbs intently watching you from the void of his sockets.

It called into question every reason you had decided to become a freelance courier. It also explained why you had been getting jobs with increasingly higher payouts over the last several months.

If only you had figured it out sooner…

The tapping stopped, replaced by a deep drawl from the monster before you as he rose with an unsettling scraping of scales. “Good of you to finally make it, Doll. Been wait’n fer this for a while.” 

You tried not to focus on the sheer amount of coils and tail he had or the knowledge that there was a second equally large mass behind you. Instead, you locked onto those red orbs and ignored the feeling of eyes on your back. 

You had to be strong. That was all you could do in a situation like this. Suppress the shaking of your hands, show respect, and maintain a polite and professional manner. It got you through some of your more sketchy transactions and would hopefully get you through this one.

Letting out a breath, you did your best to offer a sincere smile.

“I apologize if the delivery took longer than anticipated, Sir. This was a bit last minute and I was not given proper warning as to the procedures of your establishment. In the future, should I be hired to make a delivery here, I will make sure to take that into consideration.” Pulling out your phone, you opened it to the electronic signature page. “If I could just get your preferred signature indicating the package has been delivered, I can be out of your way.”

As you presented your phone and package, you resisted the urge to look down and flinch when something brushed against your leg. The monster behind the desk didn’t move except to smirk and take out a particularly fat cigar. 

“That won’t be necessary. I know the guy who sent it and I have no plans on let’n ya go. You are part of the delivery, after all.”

Your smile strained.

Whatever you do, don’t show fear.

It was like a mantra in the back of your mind as you processed what was just said.

Movement behind you broke your concentration, something brushing against your opposite leg. The smug look of the naga before fell into a sneer, eyelights morphing into thin slits. 

There was an edge to his hiss.

“Sans, don’t–”

You almost tripped when a blue coil forced you back against a warm sturdy chest, an arm wrapping around to pin you in place. “I was wondering why you had me go through all the trouble of using this one. Heh. Didn’t think it would turn out to be something this interesting, Red.”

Red reared up, eyelights flaring with magic while his body physically puffed and shifted beneath him. Your heart raced, cold sweat beading on your neck from the sudden fear.

“Think ya overstayed your welcome, Sans. How bout ya go back ta the main house where ya belong and stay outta my business.”

Sans’ arm tightened around you but his voice seemed unbothered and relaxed. “Can’t do it bud. Your business just became our business. Think the others would agree with me.”

The air buzzed. “I found em first. Back off.”

You could feel the low chuckle rumble through you at Sans’ reply. “Sorry Red. Maybe next time.”

In a split second, Red lunged, throwing his massive body across the room with a roar. All you could do was close your eyes with a cry and brace for the inevitable impact. You felt strangely breathless after, as if you were falling. Then, with a very jarring sensation and an oomph from your captor, you fell forward and over top a pile of blue scales.

“BROTHER!!! I THOUGHT YOU ALL AGREED TO SHORTCUT INTO THE GARDEN, NOT THE LIVING ROOM!”

Confused by the new voice, you jerked up, frantically looking around. To your relief and horror, you found you were no longer inside Red’s office but in a truly massive and grand room filled with lounging cushions and short tables. However, there were also no less than three naga skeleton monsters among them. All eyes focused on you.

The ground moved.

“Sorry bro. Was in a bit of a hurry. Got an important delivery I wanted to make sure ya all saw.” Gloved skeletal hands lifted you to your feet before gripping your shoulder. “Heh heh. Welcome to The Den kid.”

…

Oh. Oh no…

Grand Master            Mafia Master

[wartieingreek]

A Frozen Void (Black Void Cookie’s Story)

(NOTE: Beast Ancients AU and thus the setting of this story belong to @cuppajj, I make no claim of ownership over anything in this story except Black Void Cookie themself. Have a good read, I don’t write often.)

The weather this side of the Great Icing Ridge wasn’t usually this bad, yes, the seemingly ceaseless blizzard was bad, but not blindingly so. Black Void Cookie, scuttling about on their spidery hind appendages, struggled to see what’s ahead. The cookie body they inhabit not helping despite having more functional eyes. Each stab into the soft snow left a knife like marking, the long sharp limbs keeping them locked with the ground. They wobbled slightly from the sheer force of the snow. Even with the heightened insulation from the worn corpse, Black Void Cookie shivered in the beating weather. They should have turned back at the ridge itself, but the hostility from Dragonberry’s kingdom pushing that thought forever away. Whatever was north-west wouldn’t matter, their primal mind rationalised that nobody would be in or on this side of the ridge.

That was until they stumbled into a wall, dark and rough. They stared for a moment, feelers emerging from the cookie’s mouth to sense it. Chocolate. Frozen cold. Nothing they couldn’t climb. So they did spidery appendages stabbing into the markings on the wall, the distant roaring of the Licorice Sea seemingly picking up. They continued scaling the wall, snow battering their backside then dully falling to the ground. A round obtrusion met their path, easier to scale for them due to it’s grooves, minus the overhang. Once they got on top the cold seemingly increased out of nowhere. The Licorice Sea roared louder, slightly deafening now. They scuttled about the battlements, searching for cookies either to use as new hosts or to flee from. Nobody.

After making sure no cookies were near, they scuttled down the other side of the wall. Tarsi touching down on the snow, soft and delicate. Just in case. Slowly stepping along the snow, the white ground seemingly more cold each time. They moved between stalls and buildings, looking for cookies. Still nobody. That’s good. They moved into the open, each step now with a gentle click as they moved along the path. That’s when the large structure came into view, towering over the rest before disappearing into the blizzard. Black Void Cookie stared, feelers peeking out the cookie body’s mouth as they slowly approached the door. Chocolate again. Their head tilted, accenting their curiosity by tapping the door with a leg.

They immediately regretted that choice. Ice crept up the appendage as they backed up, flailing about along the paths, stumbling into stalls and walls. The ice continued to climb the leg rapidly approaching the joint. The next time that leg hit the ground, it froze there. Black Void tried their hardest to rip it out, three legs trying to push away from the limb. No dice. The ice continued to climb the leg, adrenaline fuelling Black Void’s body making their legs scrape whatever the ends could touch. It continued to climb, nearing the cookie body and thus the rest of the leg connections. They flailed, the internal creature stuck in the body due to the ice. The leg joints froze, flailing reduced to mere kicks. Fear was evident in the creature’s movement as the ice continued to creep over their body. It quickly overcame the rest of the legs, freezing them solid. The cookie body’s limbs, too froze, leaving just the head iceless. That would cease soon, the entire creature frozen solid, like many Dark Cacao natives before them.

(Sorry if my art isn’t the best, my CRK style isn’t the best out there :3)

[mochi-munchies]

Practice Prologue: How to Snag Yourself a Dadmare! (Fanfic)

This is basically a pilot chapter or unofficial prologue to a fanfic I have in my backburner (the number is so big 😭). The plot summed up is basically if the Murder Trio sought out Nightmare to be their boss instead of Nightmare collecting them as his minions. A Reverse AU, if you will. (The reason I'm posting it here instead of AO3 is bc I'm honestly not quite happy with the result and feel it fits more as a beta version of the work.)

Fandom: Undertale (UTMV)

TAGS/WARNINGS: Canon-typical Violence, The Stars being Annoying, Minor Gore Mention (if you think about it), Sprinkles of Angst, Gratuitous Amounts of Banter, I'm Really Bad at Doing Killer's POV.

Word Count: 5937

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When one first started up establishing themselves in the multiverse, it was greatly advised to take those delicate, tentative steps under the guiding hand of another veteran Outcode - or if someone was incredibly lucky, under the wing of one of the few gods who not only possessed an impossible amount of understanding to the happenings of the multiverse, but could even bend it to their will within a certain degree.

The gods, after all, were respected far and wide for their power for a reason, and those who were fortunate enough to gain their interest were often destined to be favored among the multiverse's inhabitants and the Creators alike. Though whether the latter resulted in more suffrage or not was really up to the luck of the draw.

But even with such guidance, the road taken in traveling the multiverse was never without great risk of peril and danger. The multiverse was surprisingly cruel despite its inhabitants themselves not often being as such, and all it could take is a single misstep to send you hurtling into the void.

Still, with a good head on their shoulders and a healthy dose of determination, even the most unlikely of schmucks could last a week outside of their AU, at the very least. Maybe.

Not that anybody was around to tell Killer these things when his AU first glitched out and spat him into some no-name alternative timeline of Candytale.

Which, for the record, was weird as fuck. He spent four days at the very least wondering if this was like some kind of major psychotic breakdown, albeit a low-key hyperrealistic one.

Maybe smoking four packs of dog treats in one sitting was a really bad idea. Maybe this was Chara’s one last parting shot for stealing the RESET. Maybe this was his subconsciousness’ way to process through his trauma or some bullshit. Mmn, all good theories, but they never really did much to explain why there was another him included in this strange reality mixup.

Though, not like watching Gumdyne - heh, still funny - melt into a deformed.. sticky.. syrupy puddle of sugar goo wasn’t enough to shake him out of his funk. Like, the regular melting blood and bones took a while to lose its gross factor on him, but this was an entirely different kind of yuck.

Especially when some Temmies started scuttling in from out of nowhere licking the shit up, that was kinda much.. even for him.

He tried a few things at first, like RESETing a few times, trying out a few genocide runs, he even let Asgorito - seriously, who came up with this shit? - kill him a couple of times before he finally came to the conclusion that, yo, maybe there was something more at play here than a few screws being loose in his noggin.

As he lay there, surrounded by the sugary wreckage of what used to be ‘Minthee Town’ - which was an absolute garbage ass name, the atrocity wasn’t even a proper pun, it was practically sacrilege - anyway, he had an epiphany.

He knew of there being such a thing as alternative timelines. He went through the whole science phase, after all, back when he was still a hopeful little bag o’ bones with a future set in his sights. At least.. before the incident with Gas- NOPE! Been there, done that! Didn’t need that particular memory springing up again!

…Where was he going with this again..? Oh, yeah! The fact that he was stuck within a transdimensional nightmare! Right, if this wasn’t a warped figment of his mind again, then the logical explanation would likely have something to do with the timeline itself.

But what if there was more than that..? What if this goofy candy hell-ucination, was in actuality, an alternative universe? Because there was no way there was a path where the kid somehow made everyone reinvent themselves as tacky snacks for shits and giggles.

Shit.

The idea sent a shiver down his spine as he gazed out at the ruins of Minthee Town. Soul cycling into a fuzzy mess as his teeth chattered in a physical tic, he could somewhat distantly feel the freezing burn of his hate splattering down his cheeks as he considered all of the possibilities.

So much FUN..!

It took a lot of fucking around to figure it out. But, finally, Killer pieced together the basics of this alternate universe. This was a reality, a world with its own rules and physics and inhabitants. And most importantly, it had its own loopholes! Now THAT he had to take some special time with!

Before this entire mess began, he remembered the last memory he had before everything turned upside down. It was a few days after his last genocide run, the Underground was void of all life, and the world - figuratively speaking - was his stage. So of course, he did what anybody else would do..

He jumped off the craggy area’s peak and LOADed his save file on repeat to keep himself stuck in a perpetual loop of falling!

The adrenaline rush was therapeutic. Not as great as a mid-fight exchange of blows, but it was the best substitute he could think up at the time.

And somewhere during his antics, the save file gave off an off-tune ding as the entire world around him shuddered unsettlingly. Next thing he knew, he was in candy world.

So, if it was the weird bug that happened back then that caused him to be dropped into an alternative universe, theoretically, he just had to do something equally as dumb to get himself into another new timeline!

And thus, Killer, the timeline jumping, genocidal maniac was born! And boy! Was it fun! Especially after he learned that the machine the old man left behind in the basement could be used to similar, less exhausting effect! (Which was great because he was starting to run out of high places to jump off of in the Underground.)

The thrill of the unknown, the rush of adrenaline when he found a new kind of toy to take apart and use up to its fullest! Nothing could ever beat it! Although..

There were times where he found himself thinking that something was missing, somehow..

No matter how many bodies he went through, how much EXP he racked up in his runs, the euphoric rush was definitely losing its buzz, and his emotions were slowly breaking out the ice of apathy as the something he was missing became more and more prevalent.

He was sure he was going to lose whatever was left of his mind, at this rate.

Until he met them.

~ ~ ~

It was a chance encounter, as most significant events tend to be in the chaotic fabric of the multiverse. Despite the near limitless potential brought about by countless worlds reaching across the yawning void and grasping the power to cross over the dimensional plane, outside of the more ‘popular’ worlds, interactions between travelers were embarrassingly rare as they were often messy. Again, not like anyone was around to tell him all this shit at the time.

But Killer being the lucky duck he was, somehow beat those odds not even a full month after his antics began.

It was like any other day. He had just jumped into a new timeline, expecting to distract himself in the usual rush of short-lived blood and dust.

Only to find that someone had already beat him to it.

He didn’t think too much about it at the time, figuring the human of the world was probably in the middle of their own little killing spree. Yet, as he sped walked somewhat impatiently through the petrified woods, he came to a stop as he noticed the dark figure slouching in front of the bridge.

"You're not from here," Dust's voice echoed faintly, emotionally dead and flatter than MTT’s ass. The edgelord couldn’t even be bothered to lend him a glance, which - rude - rubbed Killer the wrong way.

The skeleton in front of him had a sizable amount of LV. More than what was possible in a single Underground, and he immediately recognized the other as something similar to himself. But Killer wasn’t too worried about his chances.

He didn’t know how long this guy was at the game, but his LV was nowhere near his, if he could feel it so strongly from this distance, that either meant he hadn’t accumulated enough to warrant teaching himself to suppress it, or the bastard’s stats hadn’t burnt out yet. He was clearly at the advantage here.

Killer palmed the knife in his hoodie pocket, mulling over his options. “Neither are you,” he quipped. His grin twitching upwards as the atmosphere grew dense with killing intent, his soul wobbled in excitement, as if wanting to taste the preludes to their combined violence.

Finally, something to spice things up a bit!

Thank the stars, it’s been getting harder and harder to find a good distraction.

He stepped closer in eagerness, posed ready for anything. Squeezing the hilt of his knife as the other skeleton finally straightened up and regarded the other with a dull stare.

“..You’re a monster,” Dust stated. Factually. Dead. Not even spoken as an accusation.

“So are you,” Killer chuckled, toeing just a bit further as he prepared himself for a lunge. Should he start off old-fashioned with the Blaster barrage, or kick things off with a good slice-and-jab? He cocked his head, feigning curiosity, “What’s your game, pal? You here for some fun, too?”

Dust’s face scrunched up in faint distaste at his words, though his empty sockets did nothing to betray any emotion. It was like looking in a strangely warped mirror now that he thought about it. One expressive and devoid of anything, the other too burnt out to showcase anything but stoicism.

"Fun?" he echoed, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. "There's nothing fun about this."

..Huh. Dust’s words hung heavy in the stale air, the weary bitterness in that statement so strong that it even managed to break past his lofty dissociation for a moment. Giving Killer pause.

For a brief moment, he felt the other giving off the same emptiness growing inside of him. And for some reason, that pissed him off big time.

He didn’t like it. Felt too much like the old him.

Without any hesitation, Killer rushed forwards to stab the offensive fucker.

And the rest was history.

After that, it was like the two were somehow linked by some invisible force. Always running into each other at the absolute worst times. Whether it be during a bad clash with the locals or during a particularly bad LV rush, it always ended up in a fight between the two that resulted in more and more insults landing than actual blows.

Dust couldn’t stand Killer’s flippant decadence as much as Killer couldn’t stand his self-righteous and equally self-destructive nihilism.

Yet, no matter how much they couldn’t stand the other, there was an undeniable but fundamental change as things fell into a routine. Each encounter seemed to escalate into verbal sparring and sometimes outright physical skirmishes, yet they somehow - miraculously, one could say - managed to survive each other’s onslaughts.

And every time they walked away, they were inadvertently already looking towards the next time, thinking to the future- which was something neither had done for such a long time. Honestly, Killer nearly shocked himself into a coma when he realized what it was that he had been missing before, why neither could outright finish off the other and end the game.

It was the feeling of having a playmate.

Chara - as much as Killer was all too proud to be rid of the little shit - was good at keeping things interesting. Especially considering how they were limited to the one timeline at the time. It’s incredible the kid managed to keep him entertained for so damn long looking back on it. But Dust was a different kind of fun. He brought a new dynamic to the game, challenging him more in ways that were more than just physical. It was mental. Emotional. As much as Killer hated the word and everything associated with it.

It was riskier, more high stakes than if it was just his life on the line. Because at the end of it all, Killer could always RESET. His mortality was a thing of the past now. His emotions, however, was a bomb lying under the table. Dust knew how to drag them out of their grave and expose them for all to see, and taking the bet to see if he’d be able to rebury them again and again sent a special kind of thrill through him every time.

There were times he had caught himself thinking about the other skeleton more times than he cared to admit.

And as months transitioned to years, Killer found himself drawn to Dust's unpredictability and mystery. Dust, on the other hand, though initially repulsed by Killer's carefree attitude towards violence, began to see a twisted sort of honesty in Killer's actions. At least someone could still enjoy his jokes. They were both monsters, yes, but where Dust saw only despair and inevitability, Killer saw opportunity and freedom. They pushed each other to confront uncomfortable truths about themselves and their existence in the multiverse.

It wasn't until one particularly brutal skirmish that the third member of their future trio entered the picture.

~ ~ ~

They just so happened to have been in Horrortale at the time. Once again falling into a spat over something neither could even remember now. Not like it was anything important, what Killer did remember was that he just wanted a good fight. Something Dust could only ever give him when he was forced full-throttle.

Killer’s laughter echoed eerily through the trees as he dodged another volley of attacks from Dust, his knife flashing in the dim light of the Underground. “Come on, Dusty! You can do better than that!” he taunted, his voice dripping with gleeful malice as the flaky snow crunched beneath their shoes.

The other skeleton summoned a furious wave of bones in response, his face set in a taut grimace that grit with anger when the bastard simply danced between the trees, making it difficult for the constructs to land. “Shut up and fight, you damn psychopath!” he spat, frustration and anger fueling his attacks.

Killer giggled with an exaggerated waggle of his sockets as he wove behind another tree, only to lean out with a shit eating grin as he felt the killing intent soak up the surrounding area. “Aw, don’t be like that, Dusty! What’s wrong? Can’t keep up?” He dipped back when a slew of bones were fired, teleporting to the other side of Dust before brandishing his knife.

Dust barely managed to block the attack with another bone - pah, the guy really relied on his magic too much - gritting his teeth as the force pushed him back. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Killer only laughed in response, a wild, unhinged sound that didn’t make it far through the stale, dead air. “Oh, I know! And that’s why you love me!” Expecting the slash, Killer skipped back and watched cheekily as Dust proceeded to charge him.

“You son of a-!”

CHNK..!

Without so much as a warning, it was at that moment a sizable hatchet whizzed out from the darkness of the trees and embedded itself within a trunk. Just shy of lopping Dust’s head clean off, if it weren’t for his quick flash of blue magic to manually pull his body away.

Killer hadn’t even noticed it until it landed right where his own head used to be. A double miss.

He shivered as he stared at the rusty weapon, feeling excitement wrack through his body as his LV pumped up in anticipation. He probably would’ve died if that was aimed at him first.

Neither of them thought much of it back then. How easily they side-stepped as one and stood together, brandishing their weapons without even the slightest consideration of the other taking advantage of the opportunity to stick it in their back.

“Show yourself, you dirty cheat!”

At first there was nothing. Just dead silence from the vacant forest until someone lumbered out from one of the closer trees.

Emerging from the shadows was a hulking figure, his single eyelight gleaming dimly in his socket as he stared the pair down with a mix of amusement and disdain. His expression was one of a very tight, very sharp smile, too rigid to fool anybody, as if a tired mask that was worn too many times before.

"You two.. done screwing around?" His voice rumbled like an avalanche, low and authoritative. Killer felt a shiver go down his spine as that eyelight dilated, staring them down in a way that made himself feel pinned under a microscope despite the lack of a CHECK.

It made him uneasy. “Hey pal, nobody ever told you it was bad manners to crash a party? Not even gonna invite yourself first, big guy?” Killer’s grin twitched wider, regaining its manic edge even as he felt the buzz of LV slowly dropping from the high. “What’s your deal?”

Dust shuffled a bit uneasily beside him, likely feeling the same wrongness he was getting from the giant. Though of course he was saying that a bit dramatically, as the stranger was probably only a head or two taller than himself. Maybe up to Undyne’s chin if he was being generous.

But, to be fair, a head or two was a lot for bags of bones like them..

The skeleton sighed, as if already annoyed with them, "my deal is.. I'm tired of hearing you two idiots fucking around in my forest... These are my hunting grounds.. and no humans are gonna come by with all your bullshit."

Dust's sockets narrowed, but there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "It’s Horror.. right? Heard stories about you.. Though, I thought you'd be.. taller."

The skeleton - or Horror - snorted, a hint of humor in his eyes. "And cruder and uglier and dumb as a rock, I bet?" His socket curled up into a crescent as his grin broadened somewhat mean spiritedly. “Sorry I’m not the.. hulking, stupid bonehead you were expecting,” he teased with a dry snicker.

Hm..? There seemed to have been a story there, or maybe an inside joke? He’d have to remember this exchange the next time he caught Dust in an amendable mood. It seemed like something that could be useful to have in future encounters.

Because he’d surely be making a return trip if that initial toss was more than a fluke…

“Ey.” He perked up, not having noticed that he had been drifting off in his mind until Dust not-too gently elbowed his rib, snapping him back into the moment to find Horror giving him a grin.

“Heh.. easy there pal… I know I’m handsome and all, but I don’t think you’re my type.”

Killer's grin only widened at Horror's taunts, the tension in the air somehow diffusing through the newcomer’s unusually relaxed and strange demeanor. Which he would later learn was due to the fact that the guy had no fucking magic, what the fuck. "Is that so? Your loss then.”

They were getting too comfortable..

Killer twirled the knife in his hand, subconsciously putting himself back in the mindset for a hard, dirty fight, ”So, big guy, you here to join the fun, or are you just gonna stand there and glare at us all day?"

Horror growled, eyelight narrowing as if he was disgusted by the suggestion. “Depends… Are you brats always this loud.. or is today an unlucky occasion?”

Dust tensed beside Killer, sensing some shift in Horror that Killer must’ve missed as his LV suddenly flared up in brief warning, letting the intent bleed out just a bit more threateningly as if to ward off some rabid animal. "..We don't back down from a fight," Dust muttered, his grip tightening on his bone construct.

Immediately, he recognized the stance Dust was falling into. Knew the moment he kicked off, the bastard would spring forwards and swipe with his magic attack, only to nail him with a hidden construct spearing out from the snow at his feet .

Killer braced himself, feeling the instinct to follow Dust’s intuition and using it as an excuse to test out the new toy. "Well then, big guy, let's see what you've got!" Without warning, Killer launched himself at the other, Dust following not too far behind.

They had their asses handed to them, in the end. Though, Horror wouldn’t walk away afterwards without his own wounds to lick- courtesy of one clever crack across the chin from Dust’s sneaky usage of Killer’s knife, but that didn’t discount the fact that they lost! Ugh, and the bastard didn’t even kill them afterwards! He just gave them a stupid warning before watching them slink out of the AU.

Ugh! He’ll have to pay the bastard back twice over next time! The sour ache in his bones only fuelled the sentiment, angry and spitting at having all of his hard work in winding Dust up to that point having been utterly wasted. Leaving his LV unfulfilled and pulsing like an open wound.

Well.. At least this could only be the worst of it.

~ ~ ~

Things only got worse from there, as his little jaunts across the dimensions finally seemed to catch the attention of the.. Star Sanses. Which, for the record, was the corniest ass name he had ever heard. They sounded like some cheesy music group, and certainly looked the part with those vomit-inducing colors.

Who the fuck even dressed in yellow, unironically..? That was like, the ugliest color of all time and the idiot had literally draped himself in it!

Admittedly, finding himself on the run as some kind of world-hopping criminal was cool as fuck.. For about a week. There were only so many times he could listen to the yellow idiot’s self-righteous and pitying monologues before wanting to stab out his ear canals- or more preferably the twat’s ribcage.

Besides, once he found out that the idiots were less about fighting and more dead set on ‘returning him to his rightful AU!’ All the fun and games were sucked right out of it.

The day Killer went back to that brain-rotting, monotonous, day-by-day, script-driven mockery of a life would be the day he RESET for the last time. And he was certain the sentiment was well shared, if Dust’s absolute frustration upon any mention of them was anything to go by.

Unfortunately, avoiding the goody-goodies - or ridding himself of them altogether - was something easier said than done. Because as much as they were naive, and overly optimistic, and laughably underleveled, one thing they were not was incompetent. Because apparently, two out of the three Sanses, were in fact not real Sanses, but Gods.

“Wait, waitwait waitwait wait.” He ignored the warning sneer Dust leveled him with for his theatrics, actually focusing more on their discussion for once than the idea of driving Dusty boy up a wall. “There’s Gods? Like- Gods exist, for real?” He had to grit his teeth to hide the doubtful laughter in his tone, though judging from the way Dust’s LV was starting to flicker to life, he was doing a shit job of it.

“You- are you fucking with me right now..?” Uh oh, he knew that tone, “you’ve been shitting around the multiverse for up to a year now, and you’re telling me you didn’t even know shit about the Gods?”

Killer tilted his head. Then looked around the dusty pub they were seated in, a reflection of his own Grillby’s if not considerably more stocked. He looked around as if someone would seriously appear to clear his good name, but when none of the dusted remains of the regulars saw fit to do so, he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Uhhh.. nope.” Killer looked over to Horror with a hopeful look, only for the larger skeleton to pointedly ignore his beseeching, winning smile in favor of cleaning the rest of his plate with a wry curve of his teeth. Traitor.

Dust slammed his bony hand on the table, rattling the city of half-empty glasses he had scattered about his side of the bar top. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Do you even take anything seriously?”

“Nah,” without looking, he took one of Dust’s many abandoned shot glasses and threw it back, slamming the empty cup a little more exaggeratedly just to play on the asshole’s nerves. “What’s the big deal anyway? Aside from being super annoying to shake off, they don’t really seem all that threatening..”

Dust took a deep, exaggerated breath, clearly struggling to keep his temper in check as his phalanges tore a small line through the wood. “That’s because they don’t see you as enough of a threat to treat you seriously, you fucking doughnut.”

That momentarily took him off guard. “Doughnut..?” He whispered to himself. Over his shoulder, he could hear Horror chuckling to himself, repeating the insult under his breath.

“That yellow fucker? Dream, or whatever? He’s the God of ‘Positivity’ or some shit,” as if recalling a particularly upsetting memory, Dust suddenly uncorked a new bottle before chugging it back. “First time I came across the little bastard, I was gathering up some EXP in an AU..” the psycho’s eyelights shuddered out, a bitter look growing over his mug as his wrist absentmindedly swirled the contents of his bottle.

“Came outta nowhere, suddenly confronting me about all this bullshit about ‘helping me become a better person’ and ‘easing my suffering’ or whatever.” He took another swig, “Been a long time since someone pissed me off like that..” his empty gaze suddenly jerked back to Killer as his voice trailed off. “Well, since someone who didn’t deserve it pissed me off, that is..”

Several glasses along the bar top went scattering across the floor as Killer lurched up in half-genuine annoyance- thankfully all empty, or Dust would’ve torn him a new one. “Ey! What’s that supposed to mean, Dusty?! I thought we were friends?!”

Both skeletons seated beside him leaned away in disgust.

“Yeah.. no thanks pal.” As if to make a point, Horror took his plate and scooted just a bit away from them, a motion that Dust was quick to imitate. Bastards, the both of them. Why did Killer even think of these two as friends playmates, again?

“You guys are so mean to me..!” Killer allowed a brief silence to settle overhead for maybe three minutes, as his soul cycled itself back into a completely perfect circle. “So what happened..?”

Dust side-eyed him with a completely new bottle in his hands, “Mmm..?”

“About Dreamy?”

Again, the same look of disdain flashed over the hooded monster’s features before he resolutely pinned his glare to the contents of his drink. “Tried to kill him.”

Horror snorted from where he was rummaging under the counter, his grin widening as he pulled back with something that looked like a mini-fridge. “Bet that went well.”

Dust's grip on the bottle tightened, the glass creaking under the pressure. “Bastard just kept dodging everything, wasn’t breaking so much as a sweat even after I busted out the blasters.. Even worse, when he hit me with those arrows…” He stopped for a moment, suddenly leveling them both a serious look, “have either of you ever been hit by those?”

“Hah, I’m not that unlucky,” Killer replied, a playful smirk dancing on his face. Horror only made a questioning sound behind him, seeming to take interest in the conversation with Dust’s seriousness.

“It felt like my skull was being.. hotboxed or some shit.. Like, the bastard’s magic was seeping into my head and- and I don’t even know how to describe it.. I could still feel my LV burning, but whatever the bastard did was making it harder and harder to summon enough intent to attack. I didn’t want to fight anymore, but my magic still did- and- and it..” Dust's grip on the bottle relaxed slightly as he exhaled, a mix of frustration and resignation evident in his tone. “I had to bail before I overheated.”

That… Killer didn’t exactly know what to expect after Dust said ‘God of Positivity’ but that.. that was not it. He imagined briefly what it would be like to feel his LV screaming at him, not being able to summon any attacks. Experiencing his intent seeping through his fingers as some hopeless kid with a hero-complex tried to reprimand him for his life decisions as his magic burned itself outside-in.

He had to hunch over the counter as an intense wave of nausea radiated from his soul, causing large splatters of hate to spillover from his sockets.

Oh… that.. that was not a great feeling.

Killer leaned back, ignoring the pointed looks the two were giving him for his outburst. “Damn, sounds like a party pooper.”

Well, if he didn’t have enough reason to avoid the Star shits before..

Horror grunted, phalanges slowly creeping towards the socket housing his ill-gotten eye with a contemplative frown, “they've been a thorn in my side too.” He admitted.

“Sometimes, when things are getting a bit too rough for Traps, I try and do some ‘grocery shopping’ y’know..? But more often than not.. that stupid Ink-asshole shows up to ruin everything,” Horror grumbled, his fingers now hooked along his socket. “Like he’s got nothing better to do than meddle in my business.”

Killer snorted, shaking his head. “Ink..? Seriously? What’s he gonna do, paint you to death?”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Dust interjected, his voice low and serious. “Ink might be a brainless loon, but he’s also probably the most dangerous out of the three of them. He’s got crazy power and little to no consciousness in wielding it. You think Dream and his arrows are bad? Try pissing off someone who goes around warping timelines into ones like ours for shits and giggles.”

..What..?

Dust gave Killer a dark look, a flicker of frustration passing over his features. “That other God? Yeah, that’s Ink. Calls himself ‘the Creator’ or something tacky like that. He supposedly plays a hand in making AUs, but I don’t know how legitimate that rumor is.”

Seriously..?

Killer remembered Ink, even thought of the bumbling moron as the most palatable of the trio - at least he didn’t seem to be so obsessed with forcing his morals down other people’s throats - but the idea of the scatterbrained artist being a God was almost laughable. Almost.

Killer’s grin faltered slightly, a shiver running down his spine at the thought. “Great. So, we’ve got one God who can mess with our minds and another who sees us as customizable pets.. That’s fantastic.”

Usually, he’d be all for a good challenge or two to mix things up, but this was clearly looking to be an inevitable nightmare. Would his RESET be able to pull him through his code being rewired, or his own head being fucked with..?

The uncertainty in that was very disconcerting.

“Oh..? You finally realizing how fucked you are?” Dust's tone was filled with bitter amusement, though his glare spoke of a deeper frustration. “These guys are playing on a whole different level. And we're nothing but misbehaving brats where they’re coming from..”

Killer slouched back in his seat, rubbing his sternum as if to physically dispel the unease creeping through him. He didn’t like seeing the unease wobbling in his soul. He didn’t like feeling.

“So we’re supposed to just keep running and hiding like a bunch of beat dogs?!” Killer himself was startled by just how virulent his tone came out. However, he was quick to wave it off- he was mad, of course he was fucking mad. He came out into this multiverse, slayed the kid once and for all, gave up his very character, thinking he was finally set free from the monotony, the pain.

And now, just because of a couple of idiot gods with hero-complexes, he was back to bowing down in the face of some untouchable power..?

NO. FUCK THAT.

Emboldened by the frustrated growls sounding out in response to his outburst, Killer darted up from his seat, sockets fixed upon the wooden grooves of the bar top as his soul fizzled with sparks of determination.

Immediately, he could feel the heavy intent hovering over the back of his neck. As well as saw the tell-tale glow of Dust’s magic reflecting in the multitude of abandoned bottles.

He didn’t even flinch as he craned his skull back to see the craggily ridges in Horror’s axe glint menacingly under the dim light. In the corner of his eye, he could see Dust braced for a lunge, a slew of bones twirling over his shoulder in caution.  But instead of feeling threatened, Killer felt a spark of inspiration.

“Let’s team up.” He proposed, his voice cutting through the tension much like his favored knives.

Dust’s sockets narrowed, and Horror’s grip tightened on his axe. “What kind of bullshit are you on now..?”

Killer shook his head, a manic grin twitching wider, meaner, sharper across his face. “So you’re just gonna spend the rest of your lives living under the thumbs of those sanctimonious pricks? You two hated your worlds enough to find a way out into this multiverse, but now that the enemy ain’t some cheating little brat, you wanna call it quits?”

Neither looked amused - good, that’s exactly what he wanted - and Killer could taste the bitterness feeding into their LV. 

Dust was the first to speak, his voice dripping with skepticism as he let the bones drop- but not yet dissipate. “So, you think teaming up will solve all our problems? You think we can take on Gods, Killer? Seriously?”

He didn’t let his expression waver. He leaned backwards instead, forcing his bones to languidly stretch out along the bar top in a show of confidence. “I’m saying we can be stronger together. We’ve all had enough of our lives being determined by someone else, haven’t we?”

Feeling a bit audacious, Killer reached out and flicked the remaining bone attack from Dust’s loose hold, sending it clattering to the floor in a playful, teasing manner. The typically neurotic maniac didn’t even seem to flinch.

“C’mon Dusty… don’t tell me you went and collected all that LV just to play it safe.. Maybe getting out of that comfort zone of your’s will finally help you loosen up a lil’.”

Horror's grip on his axe loosened slightly, a malicious grin slowly growing along his features as he let it settle over his shoulder. “You know what..? Fuck it.. why the hell not? I’ve been wanting to show that little… blue pet of theirs a thing or two.”

Dust still looked skeptical, but there was a flicker of interest, of temptation, in his sockets that Killer was quick to latch on to. “You really think we can take them on..? The Star Sanses aren’t just powerful, they’re connected. They’ve got resources, allies, and a moral high ground that makes them practically untouchable.”

Killer’s head tilted, a coy smirk rising up in the shadows of his features as he chuckled, “the game wouldn’t be half as fun though, would it..?”

. . . . .

He knew the moment Dust’s grin rose to match his own, he’d won himself a couple of new playmates.

[credince--writes]

Deep In Those Woods (4)

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

AO3

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N:

I'm taking the headcanons that Keegan is a silent, but very sassy and expressive man when he does speak/interact with someone and fkn running with it. Lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist.

Tags:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt

You found you liked him much more when he was unconscious.

It seemed no matter where you were in the house, if he was awake he was constantly watching. Not the lazy stares, or casual observance you’d assume from the typical injured person. No, he observed as if you were a specimen. An owl perched overhead in the trees staring down at a field mouse scuttling about collecting the fallen acorns under the oak trees.

He watched you as if you were prey.

It was much harder to soothe him when he was awake when his eyes constantly darted around the room documenting where every little thing was. Documenting your movements and constantly tensing, flinching back at the small advances to replace bandages- to brush his hair back from his forehead as he lay back onto the floor.

Hours later, you found yourself out pulling his clothes off of the line. Light wind and bright sunshine cast down a warm glow across your skin. 

Keegan couldn’t help as he sat, back up against the couch as he stared out the windows he’d insisted you open again even though the light hurt. All so he could watch.

Keep an eye on you.

Observe.

The light wind, tossing your hair back as you pulled his clothes down from a line bathed in so much sunlight it made his eyes feel like they’d explode. He closes his eyes, letting out a huff of air before relishing in the relief the darkness brought him. Much to his dismay, it was around that time he found himself drifting back off to sleep.

With a groan, you lifted the heap of clothes you’d shucked off the man when he’d first arrived, carrying it in a basket back into your home. Careful to open to the door quietly, you were sure after eating and the exhaustion of you cleaning his wounds again he’d be out like a light- he usually was. Unsurprisingly to you, pushing the door open, careful to avoid pushing the door far enough back it would squeal against the hinge, you saw the shut eyes and the even rise and fall of his bare chest. A purple bruise bloomed across it and onto his shoulder, up to a scraped raw patch on the top of his bicep.

Yes, you liked him much better like this.

…

It took two days before he could keep himself awake longer than two hours. Strength returning to his body- not much, but more than had been there previously. 

Two days of care, one bout of bickering over food and one pointed accusation of withholding clothing.

“Soup.” You said, almost sheepishly as you sat down next to him, readying yourself to raise the spoon to his lips. His cold blue eyes narrowed on the bowl, forcing him to sit up and reach his hands out to pull it from your grip.

He was quiet. But then again, he was seemingly always quiet. You helped transfer the bowl into his hands, ignoring the wince as he flexed his shoulder, lifting the spoon. Giving a side eye that said ‘Let me eat on my own, I’m a grown man.’ Even if you watched the slight tremble in his hands as he ate, forcing himself through the pain he didn’t need to. You allowed it- maybe it was his pride, maybe he needed to provide to himself that he could.

You allowed him that.

The interactions between the two of you had long since fallen silent, rather than you pointlessly filling the void of silence with nervous ramblings and soothing words. You’d find yourself speaking an entirely different language just through movements- the subtle shifts of his eyes across the room, the arch of his back as he pushed himself up. While he may not speak often, his body spoke for him through expressive eyes and a body that betrayed the so-called silence he craved.

Your hand reached up, grabbing the bowl before it spilled and his hand wrapped around your wrist. His firm grip completely covering around your wrist, eyes now focused on you.

“Why are you helping me?” The question left, the exhale of his words and the dissipation of them into the silent room-filling little cracks in the walls with a deep voice you’d only heard of in the books you kept by your bedside.

 “You were hurt, and you needed help.” You explained carefully, eyes focused on his hand still locked onto your arm.

No, not because you were lonely.

Not because you were scared.

It was the right thing to do.

“I can feed myself.” He gruffed out, letting go of your arm and hand cupping the bottom of the bowl once more- even if the shake of his hands was blatant.

A man’s pride.

“You’re going to make a mess-” You countered.

“And? Get my clothes dirty?” He asked, his voice strong- confident with that deep timbre rumbling out of his chest as if this was amusing to him. “I have no clothes on, remember?”

Your cheeks burned, turning your head away and sucked in a deep breath trying not to immediately turn back and react, glance down at his waistband, and argue. Biting your tongue and waiting just a millisecond you gather your thoughts you turned your head back to look at him, the amusement clear in his pale blue eyes.

You quickly stood, excusing yourself and walking outside to take a breath.

Yes, You really did enjoy his silence.

[blissfulalchemist]

WIP Wednesday

Hello I come from the void to bring you some writing! I have been tagged over the weeks by @statichvm and @adelaidedrubman It is surprise surprise FFXVI based because that little universe won't leave my brain currently while it rotates new ffxiv material. But as always with this have a (sizable) variety pack of the two gals!

Alma and Joshua during the Rising Tide DLC

It’s quiet where Alma sits looking over the village and towards the sea, embracing the fresh, salty air and imagining what this place could feel like with the actual sun’s rays. Listens as the villagers go about their day as if it were any other and the scuttling of animals hiding among the lush forest. Content and lightweight she closes her eyes a moment hearing the soft footsteps of someone she knows well come toward her. She beams looking over her shoulder to watch as Joshua comes into view and sits next to her resting one arm on his bent leg with a near matching smile. “What brings you up here?”

“I was told I might have some luck finding you here.”

“Have I been gone that long?” Joshua nods, “Oh….I’m sorry. For worrying you and for not being around you like I should be.” 

“Don’t be. To be honest with you it has been refreshing to see you so exploratory once again.”

“I….I can’t be, not if I want to take care of you.” He takes her hand, criss crossing his legs, “I just-. This place is so….unique.” She looks back over the area, smile beginning to fade.

Joshua moves closer to her, bringing her hand to his lips, “What troubles you my dear Alma?”

“Hm? Oh nothing. It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Alma,” he pleads softly, “please, talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.”

“But-.” Her eyes meet his seeing them full of concern and feeling the warmth from his chest as he holds her hand to it. Alma takes a deep breath, “It’s nothing, really. More stupid than anything.”

“I shall hear it nonetheless.”

“I can’t help but wonder,” she starts, eyes straying back to the sea, “what would it have been like had my parent’s boat landed here. How different their lives could have ended up had the tides taken them north. While I know many outsiders didn’t last here for very long the way these people have reacted to the last thing I have of them, the journal documenting our family’s methods of healing, it doesn’t feel out of the realm of possibility that we could have been allowed to stay. So it begs the question….” Her words trail off in a question that doesn’t need to be said and one that makes Joshua’s heart sink as realization forms.

“You don’t talk about them….your parents I mean.”

She shrugs, “What is there to say on them? They died when I was young and I was then raised by Jote’s parents in the Undying.”

“Do you not remember them?”

“I remember enough. I remember the way my mother’s voice sounded when she sang me to sleep on the boat from Ash. The way my father’s eyes never lost their empathetic softness as he healed those that came to him. I even have hazy memories of my grandmother saying how much I looked like my father, but my eyes were that of my mothers.” She sighs, pulling her hand away, “Anything else I remember about them are things I wish I didn’t.”

Bit of an AU where Alma and Joshua met before the fall of Phoenix's Gate

“Miss Martha!” Alma says as she walks into the inn lugging a sack of grain. The sack almost covers her face making it easy to miss the uneven piece of wood. Tripping with wide eyes as she quickly regains her balance, “I think I may need some help.”

Cid laughs, walking over to take it from her, “Here let me get that.”

“Thank you.” 

“The abbot send that back with you did he?” Martha says with a smile, getting her some water.

Alma climbs up the barstool next to Cid, “Yes. Well kind of. I was only supposed to tell you about it.” The woman shakes her head with a playful roll of her eyes, Alma’s gaze settling on Cid. She looks him over, taking in the shadow of a torn off patch on his shirt and the small crest on the hilt of his sword reminiscent of the ones soldiers had when they would visit her grandmother on the other side of the sea. “Are you meant to take me home?”

“Pardon?”

Alma points to the hilt of his sword, letting the language of Ash come through, “You’re from Ash like me. Did someone ask you to take me back?”

He smirks, responding in the common tongue of the Twins, “Don’t think I’m allowed back,” he leans towards her whispering, “and something tells me you’re not keen on going back either.”

She nods following his lead, “Not without my-. Well this place is my home now. My parents said as much.” The young girl’s shoulders begin to hang, looking up at Martha, “Would it be alright if I came back down later for supper Miss Martha?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but first.” Alma stops her descent down the barstool, eyes fixated on Martha as she pulls out the paper wrapped package from the bag along with a letter that’s closed by a wax seal with the Archduke’s crest upon it. “This, along with the bag, came for you.”

“For me?” 

Martha nods, encouraging her to open the package first. “Was told it was from some boy named Joshua.” 

Alma’s face turns bright as she rips open the paper to reveal two leather bound journals and an unmarked letter on top of them. Her breathing stops as she gently puts the letter to the side and delicately runs her hands over the leather covers. “He-. He kept them….,” her eyes begin to fill with tears as she opens up one of them to find the years of notes, drawings, and instructions passed down for generations, “even after I got him in trouble he still….”

The two adults look into the journal finding the answer as to why she was excelling and surpassing what the locals were able to teach her. “These the journals you told me about?” Martha asks. 

Alma nods, looking into the next one as Cid flips through, finding it written not only in the common tongue of the Twins and Ashen, but another one he just can’t place his finger on. One thing is clear though within the writings, “Were your parents healers?”

“My whole family was. My mother used to tell me that the whole of my history was here in these journals. I was to follow in their footsteps….,” she says softly, voice growing thick, “they were going to teach me and we were going to become better healers as we learned new techniques and had access to different herbs and medicines….They said life would be better here.”

The first time Clive meets Barnabas on the field

With a yell Clive primes himself and rushes the king as the other three watch, limbs tense. The king easily evades the attack and kicks him back, the three jumping in to support him. Jill is the first to catch the king prime another attack, sprinting to give him cover. In a flash the red slash sings towards Clive. Alma’s heart stops for a moment as it makes impact. Ifrit’s power fading as he hits the ground limply. The thump jolts her back into action, sliding to his side, lifting his chest from the ground. Her arm slides under his arm and around his shoulders, his weight nearly crushing her back to the ground before Joshua joins her and the two begin to drag him towards safety. 

Jill yells at them to go before making the temperature drop and the sound of cracking ice before rising above them as Shiva. They make it a few more steps before the Dominant casts a wall of ice between them and Barnabas, her attention now singularly focused on the king. Alma and Joshua look up when they hear Gav call out to them, watching as Clídna jumps over the small stone fences towards them. She wastes no time in pushing Joshua from his spot, bracing Clive on her back as she wraps one of his arms around her shoulders, while her other arm moves Alma out of the way to grab onto his legs. With a quick shift as she stands Clive is securely laying across her shoulders, one arm crossed over her chest and held in place by the arm wrapped around his legs. 

The cursebreaker makes it look easy as she turns and rushes back to Gav, with Alma, Joshua, and Torgal following close behind with the fading sounds of ice and darkness clashing. “Gav! When we make it to the end of the street, I need you to help Joshua take him the rest of the way.” Clídna orders, “Alma, you and Torgal stay in front of them and lead any big mobs of Akashik away from them, got it?”

Alma nods as Gav asks, “And just where do you think you’re goin’ in the middle of all this?”

“To get Jill. I’m not leaving her alone, not again.”

Gav sighs, grumbling, “Well just don’t be stupid about it, alright?” She nods, slowing down into a darkened doorway, helping the men get situated, “You remember where to meet us?”

“Of course. Take care of him, I’ll be back!” With a final nod from Gav does the small group make their way towards the Ironworks in the outskirts of the city. The four of them are a few streets away from their destination when they hear the panting and heavy footsteps of Clídna approaching them, alone. She gives a silent shake of her head when their glances all ask the same question. She picks up Clive once more, pace never faltering as they make it to the doorway of the Ironworks. “Where do you two want him?”

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

By the time Mid comes to check on them, Joshua has pushed the cot right next to the bed, pillow in the space between his crossed legs that Alma rests on as he leans against the wall, fingers combing through her now loose hair. The healer stays asleep on her stomach to better reach out to the side and have her hand upon Clive’s chest, the man’s breathing strong and steady with more color to his face, her other arm wrapped around Joshua, and Torgal sleeping at her feet. He and the hound glance up at Mid’s entrance, putting a finger to his lips before waving her closer. She sits on the edge of Clive’s bed quietly asking, “Will he be alright? Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“Alma and I can only mend flesh, but the spirit….,” he takes a deep breath letting his gaze focus on Alma, “The spirit must recover on its own.”

“So it's all up to him now ain’t it?” Joshua nods, Mid giving a small smile and nodding at Alma, “Is she going to be alright?”

He nods once more, “A good rest was all she really needed, but being a healer she makes for a very stubborn patient.”

“Ah, only way you were able to get her to sleep I see.” 

“Quite,” And nothing short of unusual for you my dear. He looks around trying to change the subject, “This place is remarkable. Outfitting it must have been no small feat. Why go through all the trouble though if I may ask?”Mid smiles, looking in awe at the Enterprise, “That beauty’s belly is filled with wonders the world in’t ready for. If the other guilds caught wind of what we were up to, they’d all want a piece.”

Clídna and Clive's first night together

Clídna’s footsteps are light as she weaves through the bunks to one man she knows will appreciate the contraband she has tucked away in the storage house. She finds him laying on his back with crossed arms and shaggy black hair obscuring his face even more in the darkness, at least she knows it won’t take him long to be dressed to be outside as he, like many others, wears most of their uniform to bed. She pokes his arm whispering, “Wyvern.” His eyes are slow to open but focus on her shrouded form, “Meet me in the storage house. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

She says no more and slinks away to the quietest exit, leaving the door loose enough to open with a gentle nudge and not alert anyone else. Once out in the pale moonlight she straightens out inhaling the crisp fall air with a smile before glancing around for the all clear before rushing to the storage house. Thanks to her earlier work she’s able to navigate the maze of crates with ease to the back corner where no one would be able to spot them and where she pulls free two small bottles of wine that didn’t meet the emperor’s standards. Her body tenses when there’s a scrape at the door and soft firelight glows behind a wall of crates. 

“Clídna?”

She lets free the breath she’d been holding at the sound of Wyvern’s voice. “Back here.” He makes his way to her making the fireball floating in his palm smaller when his eyes land on her. He reaches for a clay bowl stored in the rafters and pulls a dusty rag from one of the broken crates to wrap around a piece of the broken wood. The two settle on the floor where the rag wrapped wood finds a place within the clay bowl along with the fire he used to guide his way to her. She smiles, handing over one of the bottles, “Can I interest you in some South Reach wine?” 

He laughs softly at her exaggerated tone taking the offered bottle, “And how did you manage to get your hands on these?”

“Let’s just say it pays to show interest in the kitchen staff once and awhile.” She holds out the neck of her drink, “So, cheers.”

He clinks his bottle against hers, “Cheers,” taking a swig of the smooth drink at the same time she does.

and finally Clídna being right as always

“Yet you still find it a bit weird, seeing him all grown up like this,” she laughs as he lets out a sigh and shaking his head, “It’s okay to admit it you know. You haven’t seen him fully since he was but an adorable child.” The two watch as the young man moves a stool a bit closer yet not sitting on it as he pets and scratches behind the hound’s ears, and Alma leans a bit closer giggling and batting her lashes as her crossed legs swing. “If it makes you feel better, sweetheart, at this moment in time the two are much younger.”

His brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

She nods her chin at them, “Just look at them. They’re flirting like teenagers(would they say teenagers like that????) in a marketplace.”

“So?”

“So it means they’ll act nothing like the refined young man and woman they front with you.” She points to someone unknowingly taking the stool from behind Joshua, his focus never leaving Alma as she goes on about something blushing and pushing her long hair behind her ear. The two watch as Torgal finds a place to lay where the stool once was and the couple staring adoringly at one another.

“I don’t believe that,” Clive argues.

Clídna cocks a brow before smirking, “You that confident Joshua won’t be stupid and oblivious?” He nods with a confident smile, “Alright then, I bet you five gil that he’ll soon trip over Torgal while still talking to her.”

“Okay, you’re on.” 

He holds his hand out, the two shaking on it as Jill walks up behind them still mostly dressed in her day clothes. “And what are you two doing out here?” She asks with a chuckle before kissing them both on the cheek and leaning on them both.

“About to make Clive lose five gil.” Clídna points to Joshua and Alma, watching as his hand begins to reach behind him for the stool no longer there. “In five, four, three….”

Joshua attempts to sit only to fall back, taking a step back to try and catch his balance. Torgal stands quickly with a yelp bumping into the back of his legs, taking them out from under him as he tries and fails to grab onto the railing. He falls back with a small yell into the table, his hand catching onto someone’s left over plate causing the food remaining on it to go flying and land on him. 

Alma jumps down with worry all over her features as Clídna and Jill laugh, Clive hanging his head in defeat hiding his smile and repressed laughter. The young couple look up at the boisterous trio, Joshua turning red when he realizes they had all seen what just happened and hearing their laughter grow when Torgal begins to try and clean up the food. 

Alma stands up, hands on her hips trying to look authoritative with her embarrassment also creeping up her neck. “Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”

Tagging: @belorage @florbelles @unholymilf @confidentandgood @strafethesesinners @leviiackrman @statichvm @adelaidedrubman @jackiesarch @shallow-gravy @shellibisshe and anyone else that wants to share!

[sofiiel]

There & Back Again : xReader Edition

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 : 6000+ words: (CW: angst. nightmares. toxic family dynamic. mentions of blood. violence. implied domestic abuse & SA - not done by Eddie )

Table of Contents | Next ->

The room is unervingly frigid.

You toss and turn in your bed. A cold sweat slips down your neck, sliding down your arms, and rolling along your legs.

Chest rising and falling rapidly as you cannot catch your breath.

Locked inside a void dream with the sound of skittering little legs. Your fingers claw at the bedsheets in the same way they clawed at the dirt walls in the darkness. Silent screams echoing in your head as tiny stings leave your limbs tingling with pain.

"I took you so that they might not," A lithe voice echoes in the quiet spaces of your mind. 

Limbs that once stung now felt numb, and a throat sore from crying at the top of your lungs fell still.

You find yourself looking up into unapologetic eyes that went on like oceans. Feeling smaller than you've ever had, and as he closed his eyes, your eyes opened.

You awoke with a start, eyes wide open but unable to move no matter how hard you willed your body.

"Don't scream, just wait for it to pass... it's too early to wake Dad up."  you think.

Talking yourself down within the confines of your head, you continue to will your limbs to move and soon can sit up.

With a sigh of relief, you brush your hand against your face, your eyes going to a tank near the window in which a tarantula scuttled peacefully.

"Good morning Shelob," You called, getting to your feet.

Your legs still ached from the night before, a grim reminder that sent a shudder down your back. It nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Leaning on Shelob's tank You choke back tears, pulling open your drawer you pluck out an old-fashioned soft blue dress and your underwear.

Retreating to the bathroom, you get ready for the day ahead of you.

Casting one last glance back at your home, you can see your father looming in the master bedroom window.

You force on a smile and head toward your black 1979 Chevrolet Chevette, waiting there in for Patrick.

In the rearview mirror, you check your face, the cold water had taken the puffiness away from your eyes.

"Morning Pat." you call as your brother climbs into the car.

But he said nothing in return, his whole body facing the window, and he rests his head in his hand looking out.

"Just come on before we're late, I said I'd meet Jason early for practice," Patrick grumbles.

You give a weary sigh and remind yourself that Patrick is going through a phase, before starting the car.

At school, Patrick was quick to flee off to his friends. You swing your backpack over one shoulder and look around the packed parking lot.

Heart thumping heavily in your chest, eyes scanning the many faces, it was all becoming overwhelming.

"Hey," A grounding voice calls behind you.

Robin slips her hand onto your shoulders. "It's the same thing every day, yeah? Just breathe," she says.

You give a stiff nod

"Come on, I have got to tell you about the amazing movie I saw just last night!" Robin cheered, taking you by the hand and leading her into the school.

"Movie?" you question.

"Yes!" Robin cheered.

"And so then it took me ages to figure out what happened at the end, but I was still in tears, and it was just amazing, you know!" Robin rambled on as the two of you cruised the hall.

"Huh yeah..." you murmur, nearly walking under Robin while avoiding stepping too close to others. 

From the corner of your eye, you could spot Hawkins High's most famous couple, Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler.

You could hardly take your eyes off of them. You could say you've had a crush on Steve for well over three years now. It was a shallow pool that glistened on the surface, but that was it.

You were more in love with the idea of love, always had been, and nothing ever looked better than the way Steve was capable of looking at the girls he dated.

But more recently? The way he looked at the Wheeler girl, and the way she gazed right back.

Your chest would ache, not because you wanted Steve specifically, but because you longed for what they had.

"Oh..." Robin breathed, watching her friend watch the couple.

"Um...um, Hey!" Robin called frantically, "What do you say we go get like some snacks and chill at our spot? You can help me practice for my solo in band." Robin offered.

You pry your eyes away from the fawning couple and offer a small smile to Robin, Whose eyes fluttered as she inwardly melted.

"Sounds good." you reply.

"Hey there Buckley, McKinney - Performance at the Hideout," Jeff sang, passing out flyers in the hall.

"Yeah, whatever," Robin spoke quickly, brushing him off as if he hadn't been there at all.

However, you quietly take the flyer and give him a nod. 

He knew, by now, that ____ McKinney never showed up to anything other than her brother's games. But he was still extending the invite, Eddie would have, It was a well-known fact that the McKinney siblings were like night and day. 

"Wait, are you seriously going to go?" Robin asked you.

You shrug in reply quietly stating, "Probably not."

"Well, I think you should, you can tell your dad that...you're staying at my place. We'll go together and you can spend the night. It'll be fun." said Robin.

You look down at your feet with a shake of your head. 

"Dad doesn't allow sleepovers anymore," you sigh.

"That's bullshit, Patrick just spent two whole nights last week with Jason and the team." Robin raged.

You could only muster a feeble excuse of, "That's different."

Robin exhaled in defeat and shook her head. "I know, he's your dad and I know they took you in, but I hate him, and he is an awful person." Robin seethed.

You look up at Robin and smile, laughing slightly, "thanks Robin."

"Yeah." Robin sighed, "but don't thank me, it's not like I can help you." she murmured.

"More than you think, really," you utter with gratitude, before the two of you part to head to your separate classes.

"And after she totally drug my flute skills through the mud!" Robin ranted.

"I had this great comeback in mind, but Ms.Wiggins started giving us a lecture about how we need to stay coordinated, and I have no coordination," she went on.

"Let alone when I am seething because I can out-flute Sherry in circles twice on a frozen river, and she's talking about my flute skills?" Robin's ramble finally came to a halt.

You sat at a small table in the woods near the school, watching Robin rant with a small smile on your face.

"You let Sherry the mouth get to you?" you ask her.

Robin shrugged, "it's that voice...you know better, but it still gets under your skin." she confessed.

"So, flute solo?" you hum, trying to reel in her thoughts.

Robin blinked a few times towards you...

"huh...oh!" she gasps, trying to open her flute chase in a fluster.

"Yeah, sorry totally forgot, my bad...heh, and it was my idea." Robin said bonking her palm against her forehead, "earth to Buckley" Robin whispered.

you giggle, "It's fine, Robin." 

Robin pulled out her flute and put it to her mouth, "it's a classical solo, so...." Robin said teetering her head.

"I figure maybe you'd like to practice, your Ballet? I mean.... I heard last Spring's Swan Princess camp was pretty brutal." Robin said. 

You side glance, you'd almost forgotten you told Robin that you'd gone to Ballet Camp.

"Y-yeah....they worked us into the ground." you stammer.

"I should say so, you had bruises all over your back for a whole week after," Robin said.

"I thought you were great at those leaps and...shots...and things..." Robin added.

"Saut De Chat, and apparently not." you sigh

Your stomach knotted and squirmed, it made you sick inside lying to Robin again.

"Sooo, will you dance?" Robin asked hopefully.

With a nod you start to remove your shoes.

"Yay!" Robin cheered, getting ready to play her flute.

"I told you man," Eddie said in an irritated sigh.

"I don't do refunds, you asked for Heavy Nova, I warned you that stuff was known to put you to sleep. It isn't my fault you crashed during your interview." Eddie stated dryly, leading his classmate and customer, Paul Elwood, from the football team.

"That's bullshit Munson!" Paul shouted.

Eddie turned on his heel, walking backward he held out his arms and shrugged.

"You had fair warning, look I can offer you a four percent discount if you want to buy something else. And this time, you might want to go with the Crystal Mother." Eddie said. 

Stopping in his tracks, Eddie reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a bag of dark green bundles.

"Won't get a better deal." Eddie said.

Paul rolled his eyes, and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small bundle of money, separating it, and passing Eddie the payment.

Eddie let Paul take the bag from his hands, "thank you, you won't be sorry this time." He said with a small bow.

"Weirdo.." Paul muttered, stalking off in the opposite direction.

"Yeah, but I'm a paid weirdo, and you're out ten bucks." Eddie murmured.

Putting his money safely in his pocket, the sound of a flute reached his ears. "Someone is at my sales table?" Eddie thought, following the sound.

With closed eyes, you'd fallen into a seemingly endless pirouette.

"Whoa h-hey, chill a bit, you're making me dizzy." Robin whimpered, pausing in her playing.

Coming to a stop you gave her an apologetic smile.

you sheepishly state, "Sorry, it's a good way to think, or you know not to think... I kinda got lost somewhere in my head, zoning out."

Robin gave a wave of her hand, "I do that all the time, but I don't have to be spinning." She chuckled.

you chuckle as Robin picks back up her flute.

"But keep going, it's like a free concert at the theater or something." Robin urged.

You gave a nod and continued.

"I wish I was half as good." You sigh.

"You will be. You are - I don't know anyone else around town who can do what you do." Robin paused to say.

Eddie leaned from around a tree, peering through to the table in the clearing, he watched the two friends carry on and found he couldn't take his eyes off of the twirling figure.

"That's unreal." He thought, watching your steps, which almost seemed inhuman. 

Further and further Eddie leaned out from behind the tree following your steps with his eyes and his body wanting to follow.

You spun, briefly catching a pair of deep brown eyes staring back at you from the trees.

Startled, you fall back, landing in the dirt.

"Oh! Are you ok!" called Robin, dropping her Flute onto the table, she hopped up clumsily to help you.

Eddie quickly hid back behind the tree, his back pressed to its trunk, "why are you hiding?" He asked himself.

Maybe it was how frightened those glistening eyes had seemed.

____ McKinney, a name known around the whole school, as the most skittish person anyone had ever met.

"I thought... I saw someone, someone was watching us." You stammer, shaken, getting to your feet you quietly stood behind Robin.

Glancing around, Robin could see nothing but a quiet forest,.

"Well, I don't see anyone, it was probably just someone taking a shortcut back home." Robin reasoned.

She offered you a reassuring smile.

However, your eyes were glued to the spot, you could have sworn you'd seen the eyes.

Robin sighed, she would need to prove it to you.

"Hey! Anyone out there!" Robin called, stepping forward.

"Let's just go." you say quickly, gathering your backpack.

you add with rushed words, "I need to hurry back home anyway. It's already too late."

"Alright, can I pick a tape for the car?" Robin asked, following you back to the school parking lot.

Meanwhile, Eddie listened keenly and once the two of you had fallen silent he exhaled.

Stepping out, he looked in the direction you'd left, vaguely he could see their figures in the distance.

"Eddie Munson, you were not meant to see that, and boy are you doomed." He spoke quietly into his fist, covering his mouth.

"Hello! Eddie! Dudes gone off to lala land..." Scott said from around the game table.

"Can't we just dump water on him?" Jeff asked.

"No! You'll ruin the DM screen!" Gareth called out.

"Eddie!"

The three of them shouted. 

Eddie jolted out of his daze, "My ears work!" Eddie gasped.

"Or at least they used to!" he shouted back at his friends, "what gives?" He asked.

"You were lost in some other realm dude." Gareth explained. 

Eddie's chest heaved as he drew in a large breath and quietly exhaled,

"I have seen the daughter of the starry twilight in the woods of Neldoreth," Eddie murmured.

"What?" Jeff asked, looking towards Gareth who simply shrugged.

"Did you smoke some of that shit, man?" Gareth asked.

Eddie shot him a look, "No, I don't touch the merchandise, rule number one!" Eddie shouted.

Scott however leaned in, "man, no way!" he gasped.

"In the woods?" asked Scott.

"In the woods," Eddie repeated.

He covered his mouth with his hands, "she was even in blue," Eddie said.

Scott's hand slammed down on the table, "shut up! Blue?" he asked.

Eddie nodded slowly with wide eyes.

"Was there anyone else there? Anyone else who saw?" Scott asked carefully.

"Just Buckley, but they were together,"  Eddie answered.

Jeff and Gareth watched the two in confusion.

"But did she see you?" Scott asked.

Eddie sat up and paused, "I think so....not well, she just knew someone had been out there." He said.

Scott raised a brow, "So no true identification of your presence?" Scott asked.

Eddie started to sulk, "no..."

"Well, next time you gotta be seen if there even is a next time," Scott said. 

"Are you two going to keep talking like girls, or are we going to play?" Jeff asked.

Eddie and Scott turned to him. Eddie pointed and turned his hand around, dropping the dice onto the table.

"Let's hope you are ready, we left off in a heated battle against the twin earth elementals, your mage's flesh golem was slain, crushed to paste after your last roll, and you are down to two fighters." Eddie recapped.

The boys started to sweat.

"Almost forgot about poor Bob." Scott said, shaking his head.

"Who names a flesh golem Bob in the first place," muttered Gareth.

Everything seemed quiet as you sat in your car. Your eyes are glued to the front door of your house.

"Dads car isn't in the driveway." you exhaled in relief.

"Maybe mom won't notice me come in if I'm quiet..." you turn your body to look out the rear window as you throw the car in reverse.

"If I park up the block and walk...." you planned.

After parking a block away, you quietly entered the house, a few lights were on and as you head up the stairs to your bedroom you find a note on the wall. 

Looking about cautiously, you pluck the sticky note away.

"𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓃𝓃𝑒𝓇, 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝓊𝓅 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒. 𝒫𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝒥𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃'𝓈"

Read your mother's elegant handwriting. your eyes nearly welled with tears as you can feel your whole body sigh in relief. 

Peeping at your surroundings, you smile faintly, "I've got the house to myself?" you wonder.

You steal a glance to the bottom of the note.

"𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝟣𝟣: 𝟥𝟢"

"What do you think?" you ask Shelob while dropping her live prey into the tank.

"Do you think I can get away with spending some time downstairs for a bit?" you asked the spider.

Shelob paused in stalking her prey and turned her body towards you.

"I can't do much harm, other than make Mom mad." you sigh.

"All she does is shout," you added, wandering away from the tank to your bed, changing into your pajamas. 

"I think Robin and I were being watched today.... It's probably nothing, but with everything, that's happened these last two years." you murmur.

"Or Dad might have sent someone to spy on me." The thought, causes a shiver to roll down your spine.

Ever since he'd taken over as CFO of the Power Plant, the stress levels in the home had skyrocketed, he'd become more than just mean, more than just hurtful, and it had been going on for a year.

You wrap your arms around yourself in a hug, "We're just capital that will get him in good with the higher-ups. A perfect family...and,"

Turning around, you look in a mirror you had taped off with notebook paper.

"Bargaining chips," you whisper.

Suddenly feeling more tired than you'd ever been, you climb into bed.

While a night to use the house in any manner you wished was a rare treat, nothing sounded more tempting than to sleep for a few hours in peace.

No shouting, no tears, no pain, no fear.

Just yourself and Shelob in the quiet, deceiving house with the perfect lawn and apple tree at the end of the street.

Even if it meant facing the nightmares that had only been growing in frequency.

"I feel I know the demons in my dreams, and they can't hurt me like the waking ones can." you think.

Snuggling into bedding that somehow felt cold you close your heavy eyelids.

"Two more years." you murmur, a thought that kept you moving most days.

"And I'm already halfway there." 

However, those precious few hours did not last long, flying by as time usually does.

The door to your room cracked open, the hinges well maintained, it did not so much as peep. A hand gently shakes you awake, a touch that makes you cringe. 

Turning over in the bed, you look into the dead eye of your father as he gives you an overly pleasant smile.

You fight off the urge to wretch and carefully sit up in bed.

with your voice void of emotion but kept sweet so as to remain 'polite', "Yes sir?" you ask.

Your father pet the top of your head once before holding up a brilliant red dress.

"I have a gift for you." He sang.

your stomach fills with rocks and your limbs felt cold.

It was short and full of ruffles, something He'd never let you wear on your own.

"I-it's...." you tried to bite back your fear as taking too long to answer was never ok.

"Lovely, sir." you voice quietly, forcing a smile onto your face as you reach out to feel the ruffles between your fingers.

You know it's not real but the fabric seems to sting against your skin. Much like the creation of a papercut.

"It's for the dinner you will be attending for me, with the new COO of the Loxion Corporation, Jeremy Ford. It's very important, He and his wife have been trying for a litter girl of their own for years." He said.

Your eyes flutter, "o-okay...wh-what time?" you whisper.

"Five pm, you are to drive to their house, I'll leave the address and directions in your backpack tomorrow morning." He said.

You give your lips a lick as they are dry with anxiety.

You quietly question, "It's not a restaurant?"

Your father's eyes hardened as he took a single step back.

"No, but it is very kind of Miss Ford to cook a home meal considering I cannot attend myself." He said, voice strained and stern.

"It's not completely business, it's a gage of....character. " He lectured.

"Right, a man with well-behaved children must have the skill it takes to run a company just as well as a wild teen." you droned, it was the same thing every time.

"I'll be good." you said, the faint quiver in your voice unheard as your father hung the dress up on the bookshelf and left the room.

There you listen as his footsteps vanish down the hall. Until you could hear them no more, instead replaced with the sounds of muffled bickering from the master bedroom.

You draw your knees to your chest, hiding your face in them. Bitting down on your wrist you muffle your crying.

A spider came above you, lowering slowly from a single strand of web.

Its spindly legs reached down towards you as she perched herself on your free hand.

Lifting your head you peer at the tiny creature facing you, and are unafraid.

A bite would be the least of your worries, instead...

"Thank you," you murmur for the creature's comfort, sniffling the tears away and gently running your finger over your newfound friend.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Robin asked you. "You haven't said two words all day." 

You sigh and focus on your notes while at the lunch table with Robin and the rest of the school band.

"I'm ok." you state simply, but your voice lacked any personality Robin had become familiar with over the past year and a half. 

"You haven't eaten anything...you can have my pudding if you'd like." Robin offered.

"I'm not much hungry, besides, we're going out to dinner tonight with a colleague of my dad's," you stated quickly.

For a moment, you panicked, "I shouldn't have said that." you scold yourself in silence.

"Oh well, that's good, does that mean your dad's in a better mood?" Robin asked.

You shrug a dry response, "I suppose so."

Robin gave a heavy sigh, and you knew she'd given up for now.

  Distant laughter from across the room filled your ears, one of the more genuine laughs you'd heard other than Robin's.

You instantly find yourself looking up, trying to find the owner.

Searching the sea of faces until your gaze fell on eyes you'd seen before.

"It's the lurker!" you think with a gasp.

Eddie's eyes widened, it had happened again.

"From across a forest of the people," Eddie thought, he tried to hold eye contact with you, but you quickly glanced off.

Eddie drummed the table with the palms of his hands as he grinned.

Leaning towards Scott, Eddie whispered, "it just happened again."

Scott arched a brow and glanced towards his friend, "what are you looking at-" 

"oooooh!" Scott mouthed.

"Destiny." Scott said with a nod of approval.

"You think?" Eddie asked hopefully.

"What else? You want her to show up wearing a golden flower crown?" Scott asked.

Jeff shook his head, "you two are crazy," he said slowly.

"Look, don't be made just because you need to read better literature." Scott scolded, to which Jeff rolled his eyes.

"wh-what are you reading?" Jeff asked, seeing Gareth with his nose pressed into a book.

"Finrod no!" Gareth shouted, standing from his seat with his palms slammed onto the table.

Eddie hid his face in his hands and groaned, "couldn't warn you about that one man, sorry." he sighed.

"What the hell is that shit!" Gareth shouted.

"Is your voice..are- are you crying?" Jeff laughed.

"N-no...shut up..." Gareth muttered quickly taking his seat and closing the book.

"I don't want to read anymore...." he sulked.

"What the hecks going on over there?" Robin asked.

You shake your head, but as you watch the odd group of friends carry on you find yourself smiling.

Tilting your head curiously before glancing at Robin.

"You should try talking to more people...I mean I'm sure I'm great but, I won't get jealous if you make new friends, more friends." Robin whispered.

you look at Robin and give a small smile, "Nobody wants to be my friend, Robin, honestly some days I'm surprised you do."

"Oh please, that's not true - you just....well," Robin trod carefully, "you just need to open yourself up to people is all." she said.

"How so?" you ask.

Robin shrugged, "I don't know, saying 'Hi' helps. You know nothing changes we just get older and forget how it works. Teens are cruel, adults are cruel but Kids are cruel too,  but when we're little it was no big deal finding friends, trusting people." Robin said.

The word makes you flinch "Trust?" you echo quietly.

"Yeah....you see it's simple, its just a question - will you be my friend. the worst anyone can do is say no." Robin said.

You raise a brow, "Then how come you don't do it?" she asked.

Robin smiled a bit, "I did, and now you're my friend." she said.

You blink a few times, "I guess you have a point."

"Only problem is....my dad's got to approve of all my friends." you sigh.

"He approves of me, how high can his standards be?" Robin snorted.

You chew the skin of your bottom lip, "He uh....he thinks you want to be a doctor after high school."

Robin watched you with wide eyes, "he believes I look like doctor material?" she chuckled. Y

At Robin's words you muffle your laughter with the palm of your hand.

School didn't last long enough, you stand in your bedroom watching the dress hanging on your bookshelf.

"It's like it's mocking me." you think, glaring at it.

You exhale, "It's both beautiful and the most hideous thing I've ever seen."

"I feel the same about you, dear." Your mother's voice slithered in, as she slid through the door.

"Mom?" you question quickly, wrapping your robe around yourself tighter.

"It's fine, your father sent me, to help you dress." 

You can feel the sharp bitterness on your mother's tongue as you are eyed up and down.

your gaze lowers, "I'm sorry." you say, tightening the robe more.

"I can get dressed in the closet..." you offer.

Your mother passed you the dress, "please do." was all she said.

"Yes, mother." you sigh, quickly retreating. 

Mrs.McKinney gave a huff as she scanned over the items on your dresser.

There was little that showed any individuality. Contraception pills, study notes, a textbook, some unscented lotion, and a few scrunchies. Which seemed normal enough.

"What is this?" Mrs. McKinney asked with a sour frown. Plucking a tiny bracelet off the dresser.

You exit the closet and exhale, "it feels a little tight." you think, pulling at the hemline of the dress, "and a little short."  

"Are you listening?" your mother snapped.

As you glance up you stumble backward.

"w-where'd you get that?" you ask your mother.

"Tone." she growled in warning.

You lower your gaze once more, "sorry."

"What is this?" your mother repeated.

Gripping the end of your dress in each hand, your arms start to tremble.

"It was... it was from spirit day, the school band gave them out to Robin, and they gave me an extra..." you stated quickly.

"This doesn't look like a school bracelet." she pushed.

"It's a golden chain," she said.

Your eyes shut tightly, "It was from last year after the missing boy was found, to celebrate. I swear."

"We don't swear in this house," you mother said.

"I think it's from a boy" she hummed, a fox-like grin crossing her face.

"You know your father has to approve of your dates." 

Your voice is hardly above a whisper, "It's not from a boy."

"I mean it, it's from the school," you confirm.

Her mouth curled in scornful amusement, "What was that you wrote in that desperately sad little diary of yours? What was his name?"

Your mother sang mockingly.

"You had an awful little doodle of him, what was his name?" she asked.

You side glance muttering, "That was middle school, mom. Steve's got a girlfriend, Steve always has a girlfriend. We don't even talk, it was just..."

You sighed, "a crush." 

Your mother tossed the bracelet to the floor.

"You're a dull little girl, I was just having fun." she simpered.

"You do not have the spine to be sneaky, let alone pull anything other than the lonely overheated busters your father has you charm."  she spat.

You tried to calm your breathing as tears threatened to spring

"you're a dull little girl" your mother's words echoed in your head. Unable to separate the time when those words would have never dared come from her mouth and this present moment.

"I'm sorry." was all you could muster.

Your mother simpered again and lit a cigarette.

"Anyway, come here, your father wants me to make up your face, ugly little thing, you need all the help you can get." She mumbled, the cigarette dangling from her lips.

As you walk closer to her, She spins you around and glares at your face, pinching her chin between fingers donning long French tips.

"Your father used to say I wowed a room in red." she hissed.

You remain silent, refusing to make eye contact with her, cringing as the eyeliner pencil is dragged roughly across your face.

"Now he dresses you in red and sends you away to the company dinners like I'm old and worn." your mother said bitterly.

"That's not true, your be-"

pain cut off your words.

"Ow!" you gasp, a trembling hand clamped over your eye.

"Oops, you really should stand still." She mused. Your mother's eyes glinted with a an odd mixture of pride and disgust.

You bite your lip tightly, drawing blood when suddenly your eyes fall on a little creature crawling up her mother's arm.

"There's um...you've g-got uh..." you fumble over your words.

Feeling a tickle on her exposed shoulder, your mother glanced down.

She began to shriek at the top of her lungs.

"No, don't!" you shout, as your mother swatted the bug off.

Her hand flew fast and before you know it, you find yourself on the floor, backhanded.

"Did you want me to get bitten? Did you know? How long has it been on me!" She shouted.

"It's harmless." you whimper, "It was a baby..."

"A baby? Of that god awful thing?" you mother asked, pointing to Shelob's tank.

You manage to get to your feet, water welling into your eyes.

"Don't you cry, you'll mess up everything" your mother barked.

You glare down at your feet, "No Shelob's got no babies... It came from a nest...in the ceiling." you sighed.

"I've been, looking after it. The mother went away," you speak in a hushed confession.

Your mother shook her head and took a long drag from her cigarette.

"Get out of my damn house before I put you and your creatures on the street." she huffed, brushing off her clothes and storming out of the room.

You stood still, waiting for your mother's footsteps to fade before getting down on the floor.

"Maybe she missed," you whisper, carefully scanning the carpet.

"Oh, Shelly.....where'd she go?" You ask Shelob. 

The lights in the room flicker faintly.

"Great, a problem with the electrical is going to put mom in a great mood." you think, looking at the lamp briefly.

Turning your attention back to the floor, a smile springs onto your face.

A little critter lingered on your hand, watching you.

you're breathless, "No way." you say, lifting your hand carefully to eye level.

"How'd you survive a swat like that?" you ask it.

You move with care as you get to your feet, letting your hand hover in the air as you wander to the bed.

You kick off your heels and stand on top of the mattress.

"There you go." you say in satisfaction, raising your hand up to the low popcorn ceiling.

You stand by and watch as the spider finds the hole in the ceiling and scuttles inside.

"At least someone is safe tonight." you think, climbing off the bed and reluctantly retrieving your shoes.

It was time.

"It's going to be ok, sweetie. You're home now."

A warm, gentle voice flutters through your memory as you sit gazing up a block lined with large white houses, with wide lawns that all seemed to mimic each other.

Every car in every driveway favored the one it neighbored down the silent, lifeless street.

You tightly pinch your arm

"You cry you mess up the makeup, you mess up the night. Stop it!" you bark at yourself.

Closing your eyes, you walled off your mind.

"It will go fast if you go with it," you whisper.

You breathe in deep, holding it within your lungs, "It's just a waking dream...." you whisper.

slowly releasing a shaking breath you allow your eyes to open.

"so go to sleep," you tell yourself, moving the car forward to the address your father left you.

Parking the car, your feet felt like lead as you walk up to the bright red door.

With a sigh, "it had to be red." you think.

Smoothing out your dress to stall for more time, you eyed the doorbell.

"It will go quickly...it will go quickly." your mind droned, finger pressing against the doorbell.

At the loud toll, you took a few deep breaths. 

"Why hello, there you must be ____. Gregory has had so much to say about you, come in, come in." The elegant blonde woman offered you a flawless smile as she opened the door.

"Thank you, miss Ford." you say, forcing a bright smile of your own.

"Oh, dear. You can call me Norma," said the blonde, allowing you to step inside the house.

Following Norma down a long entrance hall, you notice the strange collection of artwork on the wall, if one could truly call it that.

Black and white photo's in pale wooden frames.

"You have some lovely artwork, miss Norma." you say, if only to fight off the unease.

You can feel Norma glancing back at you, but you can't rip your eyes away from the odd gallery.

"Artistic nude is an enchanting medium of study, don't you think? Raw humanity, captured in the individual view of the artist." Norma said with a pleased smile.

"Mmhm, en-enchanting...." You struggled, though this was hardly artistic nude.

You were sure of that much. It didn't lend the air of artistic value.

The paintings seemed to be of young women, of all the same figure, holding mundane objects in ways that made a cold chill run through your body.

There was no light in any of their eyes, just hollow stares.

"This will go fast," you told yourself again, following Norma through the house.

As you pass the dining room, you are left baffled. Your gaze hones in on a small empty table.

"Are we not having dinner?" you question. 

"Oh of course dear, dinner is going to be served downstairs," Norma hummed.

"Jeremy just had the basement redone for business affairs, he's excited to show it off. It is a pity your father couldn't be here to see it." Norma said.

Down a short flight of steps, you continue to trail behind Norma.

The smell of pot roast fills your nose and part of you relaxes.

"See, a roast dinner." you mind sighs in relief.

"Jeremy, Gregory's daughter, has arrived," Norma announced.

You stand behind Norma before a large room. Its walls were heavily ship-lapped and feature plush carpeting.

A long table stood as a centerpiece in the room, lined with wine glasses and delicate fruits.

But the centerpiece of the table sent your heart tumbling down to your gut.

"Welcome ____," Jeremy nearly purred, eating a fruit from the belly of the girl on the table.

Your lip trembles as you try to hold back tears.

Deep denim blue eyes looked clear through you, with the same amount of pity you were sending to her. 

"Your father tells me you struggle making friends, this is Amy," Jeremy said with an unfaltering grin.

"A-amy? My da- er, Father, never mentioned you had a daughter?" you stammer.

"Oh, she's just a friend of the family, she likes to play body shots, would you like to try?" Jeremy asked.

"I..." Your words faded as Norma walked around you and held up a wine glass.

"Take a sip, you look parched, dear." she lulled.

"I don't want to." your mind whispered, eyes still glued to the tears welling into Amy's eyes.

Only now Amy wasn't looking at you at all, rather across the room.

Following the frightened girl's gaze, past the small kitchen and bar to the far left of the room. On a long foldout table lay many items. A riding crop, clamps, a metal bat, as well as various scarves and boas.

You hold back the urge to scream, instead, turning your eyes to the glass of wine.

"Is it?" you ask, Norma smiled and nodded.

Closing your eyes you take the glass quickly downing it, "a waking dream...so sleep" you tell yourself.

Fading in and out, faint screaming and cursing echoes and swirls in your ears.

"Wh-what's going on?" you slur, as a hand tries to sit you up.

"Can you walk?" a voice asked quickly.

"I-I don't... ah!" you cry out as you find yourself doused in ice water.

Your vision came in clear and your gaze met with Amy. 

Left in disoriented confusion you rub your eyes,.

"You? How?" you ask her.

"You need to get out." Amy said firmly, reaching down to your wrists, she unlocked the cuffs.

"Out? B-but I can't..." you stammer.

"Look, they don't have to know. I'll tell them you tried to stop me, and then you ran away," said Amy.

"I don't understand, y-you're here just like me, for the same reason....aren't you?" you ask.

Amy was silent, "You're not who I thought you were going to be. Ok, you're scared, you aren't the mosquito. I didn't plan this right. You have to get out, or they will blame you for what happens here tonight." Amy said quietly.

"What do you mean?" you ask as Amy pulls you to your feet.

"Just get out, tonight's your lucky night," Amy said.

Glancing around nervously you question,"Where are the Fords?"

"Held up for now, but if you take too much longer to get out-"

"Well, then come with me! We can both get away, and nobody has to know," you urge Amy.

"No, nobody is going to know, but the world will be safer," said Amy.

She gave you a light shove, "Now go, there's a cellar door to the backyard, it leads into the woods, if you run long enough you should hit the road. Find some help for yourself."

"But-"

"And if anyone asks, you don't remember what you saw, you just ran," Amy said.

"I don't understand!" Myrtle shouted. "Go! Dumbass! You're free! Run!" Amy yelled back.

You watch as Amy picks up a baton and looks towards the basement kitchen.

"You won't want to see this." you faintly hear Amy whisper.

You cringe and with painful sluggish steps make your way to the cellar doors.

As the door closed behind you, you hear a muffled, deep shout.

Pausing you watch the door, brows knitted together.

"I should go back." you hesitate, but the red seeping down your legs and the screaming of your arms and legs said otherwise.  

You look towards the woods, "I need to run, She seemed to have a plan." you murmur, hobbling towards the darkness and safety of the trees.

As the laced wine slowly wore off, the pain in your body went from a scream to a bomb siren. Leaning against a tree, you catch your breath.

your vision wavered and all you want was to sleep.

"It can't be here, I need to get home." you think, pushing off the tree to continue.

Ahead of you through the night lingered a soft orange glow.

"Houses... I can say I got into a crash," you reason with yourself.

But something in your gut twisted, and you couldn't clear Amy's face from your mind. Shutting your eyes tightly, you shook your head.

"Nothing about tonight makes sense, for all you know you were drugged walking through that door." you told yourself.

"Just keep moving."

Eddie, hopped out of his Van and locked the door, chuckling to himself about the events of the campaign and what he already had planned next for the party.

"Maybe I shouldn't have left them so hopeful." Eddie thought.

A rustling came from the brush near the tree's behind the Trailer Park, Eddie paused in his steps.

Tilting his body forward for a closer look, "Did the Thornton's dog get out again?" Eddie asked himself.

With a sigh, he headed for the trees, "Hey! Winston! Come here boy!" He called in a whistle.

But what emerged through the trees was no lost dog.

"Jesus, McKinney!?" Eddie asked wide-eyed as he looked your disheveled form up and down.

"Um, I-" taking a step forward your leg finally gave way.

"No, no, no," said Eddie, pulling off his vest, he removed his leather jacket.

"Hold on, here your dress is um...kind of ripped." He said, holding it out to the shaken girl. 

You gaze at the jacket in a daze before your eyes trail down your own body to examine your dress.

you gasp in mortification, "Oh my god!"

"I'm sorry." you fret.

You rush to slip on the jacket and zip it up, but every movement makes you wince.

Eddie's eyes scanned over you, "what happened? Do you...do you need me to call somebody, like the hospital, maybe?" He asked.

You feel the panic settling into your core and it matches the building panic in his eyes.

"I um...no, It's not as bad as it looks, really. I was just tired and um....the car veered off the road and-"

"You're bleeding from your legs..." Eddie muttered, eyes wandering down two thin trails of blood from your thighs to your calves.

"What? Oh, th-that... that's just" you clear your throat "My period."

"Please, I just need to clean up, and then I can walk to a payphone and call my dad." you reason. 

Eddie wanted to protest, but he could see you were struggling to talk through gritted teeth. Turning his back to you, Eddie stooped down.

"Well at least let me give you a lift, My uncle's at work, you can use our bathroom." He said.

You pause, unable to imagine climbing onto his back with the way your insides were feeling, walking was hard enough.

"Um... I can walk, really." you speak quietly. 

"No offense, but Zombies could walk better, come on." Eddie urged.

you sigh in defeat, you can't afford to let him get suspicious, so carefully you step forward and climb onto his back.

Shutting your eyes tight, it was hard to ignore the new pain. 

Eddie could feel your hands grip his shoulders tightly and your body tense.

"You ok?" He asked carefully.

"Mmhm" you hum.

Eddie side glanced and hurried as gently as he could around the Trailer and up the steps.

Table of Contents | Next ->

[comfortabletogether]

DRA!Yuki w/ prompt; “I would never lie to you.”

I’m sorry to the people who I told I would go to sleep to. I got distracted by angst unfortunately. Especially for one my favourite characters in DRA. Originally I was going to do this with SDRA2!Yuki w/ a Void!S/O, but I don’t feel that cruel.

WARNING: SPOILERS; ANGST; DEATHS MENTIONS

~ Mod Haruhiko ✈️

Yesterday, Akane had been breaking down, Tsurugi had been screaming at her, he had said so many fucked up things. And worst of all Ayame had died. Same with Kizuna but— she would’ve killed Yuki Maeda had she not been stabbed by Akane. This whole situation was just getting way too overwhelming.

Haruhiko was warning everyone of his wariness for Yuki Maeda, including you.

But Yuki hadn’t done anything, if he knew who the mastermind was, he would’ve told you, right? He was your boyfriend, Yuki would tell you everything.

“Yuki?” You scuttled out of the cantine where the rest of the group hung around and down the hallway to Yuki. “Are you alright? Hey, I’m sure Haru didn’t really mean that, tensions are high and—“

“Are you not leaving the group? Are you seriously staying in there while they casted me out?” Yuki turned back around to yell. He was more than upset, he was downright angry. You had expected him to be at least a little distressed but not to scream at you.

“You didn’t even defend me, S/O!”

“Yu, I swear I’ll talk to Haru. If I defended you in the heat of the moment—“ You reached out to grab his unnaturally cold hands but he pulled back.

Yuki’s voice interrupted you again, his voice buzzed and his words got caught in the back of his throat.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve fallen for Monokuma’s trick too. You can just admit it.” He placed his hand on his hip. “But, come find me again when you’re ready to defend me, because I swear I’m not the mastermind, I would never lie to you.”

And just like that, he left to go investigate the third floor.

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Poem I wrote for class. The title is subject to change so I won't put it up here. But I am gonna put under it what my professor said. Not to be an asshole but these institution creative writers are proving to be really hit or really miss. Like the fuck is wrong with this woman? Hell if you want tell me what you think it's about please do. I will give you an answer.

Taglist: @winterandwords @kingkendrick7 @liv-is @outpost51 @the-void-writes @aether-wasteland-s @nanashi23 (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist)

She's at it again 

Trying to claw through gravel and muck 

With polished nails that glimmer when a light shines

In a sudden flash 

And makes her think she made it out of the hole again

—

With a right hand positioned 

Right above a hole of her own 

Her head is thrown back 

And makes the headboard ring 

As she sings a chorus of her own 

The light from the ceiling fan 

Burns her eyes 

—

Like the tears when she still finds herself 

Submerged in a hole 

Bathed in artificial light 

Dirt caked beneath nails 

Frantically she pants 

Frantically she chokes as she tries to swallow her own cries

Feeling the hole begin to cave in 

—

Her hand cramps

Fingers locked 

Knuckles burn

A grunt of dismay 

Rushed scuttle back into her burrow

Sliding beneath a single blanket 

As the door opens

Left alone with her thoughts again 

—

The hole buries her gradually 

She lies still

Wetting dirt with her tears 

Feeling all she can do is try again

What my fucking professor said 👇🏾

[xendiyatrix]

I Own You

Dalek X had established a whole new base of operations for his empire, his own version of Skaro where his pure daleks could thrive. Within the first few years he worked to establish a supreme council and fully finish the construction of the capital, the largest dalek city ever seen built to emphasise his power. The next step in his operation was to establish more cities on his Skaro but also to finally start full on production of new dalek units with a brand new casing design that he had devised himself, at least, that's what he claims.

The large door to the council chamber raised from its resting position with a boom. Dalek X turned to face the rest of his council, his pupil dilated as his dome turned to make individual eye contact with each member of the supreme council. “Meeting Adjourned” his dome turned once more to face a specific supreme sporting a black casing with alternating blue, gold and silver colours. “See to it that production of our new travel machines begins immediately, you are all dismissed”. The councilmen backed away from their spots one by one in perfect synchronisation, following each other one by one as they left the council chambers. Dalek X was about to follow suite when the large door suddenly slammed shut, locking him in the room. Surprised by this X slowly backed up as black horribly organic roots started covering the door. X’s eyes shrunk in fear as Xen manifested himself out of the corner of the room, low gurgling and grunting noises echoing from inside of him.

X backed himself into a corner of the room, metal clanking could be heard overhead as Vespasin crawled across the ceiling with his many legs. He reached for the chamber's light source and with a swift movement snuffed out the light. Slowly the light dimmed back on, highlighting the chamber's main chamber. X slowly lumbered towards the main table with his eye darting around the room trying to make out the figures of Vespasian or Xen, but it was as if they had vanished into the void that the room had now become. 

“You are performing your tasks most excellently, Dalek X '' A feminine yet oddly angelic voice came from the darkness, it was distinctly dalek but the mix of femininity and calmness in its voice worked to make it frightening and unnerving. X shivered in his casing as his eyestalk darted to face where the voice had come from. Slowly emerging from the darkness Andromeda appeared, the Empress of the Daleks. She towered over Dalek X and looked down on him. Despite not having facial features there was an odd sense of joy in her inhuman demeanour.

“I have done as you have asked….’Empress’...” Dalek X said with disdain in his voice, his eyes pivoting downwards in shame. He slowly lifted his eye stalk to stare back at her. “But I-!” Andromeda moved beside him and cut him off as she snatched his eyestalk within the grasp of her claw, forcing him to face her.

“But what?” She said in her calm soothing voice, directly taunting him.”You forget your place, Dalek X. I OWN you, YOU ARE MINE TO COMMAND!” She snapped, her angelic calmness breaking. “You chose to agree to these terms, without me you would not have survived your war with the imperials, you wouldn't be where you are now without me. I am the one supplying you with your power, remember that!” she released his eyestalk, slowly backing away from Dalek X. Xen’s roots slowly slithered off the door allowing it to open once more. “You are dismissed, Dalek X. Leave” With no hesitation he scurried out of the room, as he roamed his way down the city's corridors mumbling to himself. He was going to break out of these chains somehow, by any means.

Andromeda watched as he scuttled off as the door closed once more. Vespasian crawled down from his place on the ceiling as he and Xen moved to flank either side of their empress. She swiftly turned to face them, her eyes lowering to meet her shorter companions. “Soon, my Loyalists, we will have complete control over Dalek X. He is arrogant and will realise too late of the hidden design elements I have implemented in the new casings supplied by me. Our home universe may be destroyed but we shall claim this one as our own.” Andromeda turned away from them again, looking longingly into the distance. “You are both dismissed.” 

[ervona]

oc tag time! tagged by @fay-run and @aphoticfairy thank you :)

tagging @wingedtwilight @scuttling-void @bretongirlwrites and anyone interested in a little questionnaire about any oc you'd like

I was going to do Vim and another lucky scroller, then I figured it would be interesting to do these two altmer, so let's meet them...

Name:

Gwendariel of Cloudrest

Oleander... what are you, Census and Excise?

Nickname:

Gwenda, Gwen, we'll see what else she picks up

Olly to some and "that guy" to others

Gender/Orientation:

lesbian, swiftly dodging matchmaking at home by being a very embarassing person in general, she's out of there. good for her

bisexual man, questioning at the point where Morrowind is set though he's more confident in himself later in life. good for him

Star sign:

the Lord

the Atronach

Personality type:

fail knight

fail assassin

probably not the question but I'm not about to do a quiz

Height:

only 190 cm :( not sure but she looks a bit stocky

so tall you couldn't guess he's part human. right?

Nationality/Ethnicity:

Alinorian, from Cloudrest

Auridonian, from Iluvamir

Favorite fruit:

any citrus fruit really. citrus fruit salad

pomegranate... he eats it with a spoon

Favorite season:

spring or summer... for sunny days

the mysterious Vvardenfell vvinter

Favorite flower:

insert Eton Nir mountain flower here

he's a bit vain so I'll admit... oleander

Favorite scent:

petrichor and mountain flowers

chestnuts and metal cleaner oil

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate:

prefers tea but will take any

coffee with milk and all that

Average hours of sleep:

depends. how bad is the ghost problem?

sleep is for those who aren't on the grind

Dogs or cats:

why not gryphons? maybe a small dog like a waxing terrier

he's fond of all animals, he leaves his leftovers out for them

Dream trip:

at the time of Daggerfall, Morrowind! it's a province she hasn't been to on her knightly journey... we'll see if she ends up going there, hopefully she can get a very nice welcome in Mournhold

Yokuda or Akavir, he wants to see the world. he's known a lot of sailors who go to Yokuda regularly but he's closer to Akavir now

Number of blankets:

one regular blanket but when it's cold a magical blanket from (redacted for now. I enjoy a bit of mystery, tune in to find out)

cloak :( you just want to pick him up and put him somewhere

Random fact:

Gwenda was a Welkynar apprentice once, before the incident. considers herself a knight although she has no formal title like that... she does have knightly spirit and the background for it?

Olly was already somewhat of a Dagonite back in Summerset, though obviously not open about it... what drew him in was his disappointment in the society around him and wish for change

both of these ended up being backstory facts. extras: Gwenda is a natural blonde and Olly is like the spitting image of Indoril Nerevar though he looks different in my story than in most fanart I see ngl

[ms-m-astrologer]

The Week Ahead: June 5-11, 2023

Lunar Phases

Wednesday, June 7, 11:05 UT - Disseminating Moon, 1°28’ Aquarius

The key phrases for the Disseminating lunar phase are to “teach, share, communicate” about what we’ve been doing; and to “ease up on efforts” with our intentions. This could be a drastic chart, as the Moon is conjunct Pluto Rx, opposite Venus/Leo - and all of them square the Nodal axis across Taurus/Scorpio. Vindictive hurt feelings, deep passions versus cold-heartedness - emotions we’ve supressed suddenly bursting out in the most destructive ways. Best to purge the poison and not choke on it.

Saturday, June 10, 19:31 UT - Last Quarter Moon, 19°40’ Pisces

The key phrases for the Last Quarter lunar phase are to “turn away” from what we’ve been doing, and to “tear down old structures” which no longer serve us well. If we managed the Disseminating phase halfway decently, we can use this time to tend to our wounds. It’s also a good time to look for silver linings.

Void of Course Moon

Monday, June 5, 03:24 UT (Sagittarius) - 07:31 UT (Capricorn)

Wednesday, June 7, 04:40 UT (Capricorn) - 08:42 UT (Aquarius)

Friday, June 9, 04:24 UT (Aquarius) - 10:14 UT (Pisces)

Saturday, June 11, 13:19:57 UT (Pisces) - 13:20:12 UT (Aries)

(Yep, 15 seconds long.)

Retrograde/Direct/Etc.

Pre-retrograde shadow: Jupiter/Taurus (starting Sunday the 11th), Saturn/Pisces

Retrograde: Pluto/Aquarius-Capricorn

Post-retrograde shadow: Ceres/Virgo

Transiting Jupiter enters its pre-retrograde shadow on Sunday, June 11, 10:27 UT, at 5°35’ Taurus - covering the identical ground Mercury just Retrograde-Zoned over. We can expand on something the Mercury Rx brought up.

Ingresses

Monday, June 5, 13:46 UT - transiting Venus enters Leo

And stays in Leo until October! These first couple weeks of Venus/Leo, she’s still a trigger.

Sunday, June 11, 09:47 UT - transiting Pluto retrogrades back into Capricorn

Be “fun” to see what all happens with AI after Pluto scuttles back into Capricorn.

Sunday, June 11, 10:27 UT - transiting Mercury enters Gemini

A couple of breezy weeks to chatter.

Et Cetera

There are two Opportunity Periods this week:

Monday, June 5, 07:31 UT - Wednesday, June 7, 04:40 UT. “Long OP where you have Monday and Tuesday to be productive.”

Sunday, June 11, 09:09 UT - 13:20 UT. This is a good time to help others and deepen your connections.”

A bit more active this week - Venus’ entry into Leo is rather fraught, and on Sunday we have two ingresses and an entry into a retrograde zone within an hour’s time. Remember to take your vitamins and hydrate!