#and a setup for next chapter

[riftwalker-limbro]

intermission - Resignation

masterpost

---

Your leg is the same, no?

The same as a warframe’s repaired-as-best-as-possible scars, that would never heal further, that would always cause him some level of pain.

It had been weighing heavily on Kelth’s mind, the past few days. They were pressed with their nose to the fact every morning since that first transference tryout, as they and Vince tried to figure out his abilities together. They didn’t practise proper transference - Kelth wasn’t going to try that again unless he specifically asked for it, and even then - but it was more like just hanging out together, seeing if they could spot the things he missed, to help prevent him from making mistakes. It wasn’t full transference, but it was still enough to make their knee sting in sympathy on his bad days.

Ordis had said he didn’t think Sufford would mind it if Kelth got a proper fitted cane - and when they’d asked Sufford to come along with them for this, he’d agreed enthusiastically. They couldn’t just go in Sufford for this, as on their more-limited-than-usual budget, it wouldn’t be wise to just eyeball any random cane. Kelth was nervous about going out as themself, not particularly used to it, but plenty of tenno walked around relays as they were, next to their warframes or without entirely. It would be fine.

The relay was busy, with many unfamiliar noises and faces, but Sufford stuck to them like glue, and once in the store, they forgot to be nervous - they’d had no ideas canes could look like that, or that, or have this-

The clerks were nice and helpful, and after what felt like barely ten minutes, they had found out what type of cane worked best for them. They paid for a basic model as they listened to knee brace recommendations and looked at the fancy ones from the corner of their eye. They’d have to be back once their wallet was looking better.

The current state of their funds didn’t stop them from trying to be thrifty and pulling Sufford along to the flea-market-y section of the relay, where they proceeded to dig through piles and piles of rubbish until Sufford poked them and pointed them at a pile of rocks which looked at first entirely ordinary. After one quick once-over with their focus abilities, they turned a wide-eyed look to Sufford, telling him all he needed to know to go bargain for them with the shopkeep. Afterwards, though they were vibrating with energy from all the excitement, Sufford managed to herd Kelth back to the Liset without any further incidents or purchases. 

—

Once back on the Orbiter, Ordis concluded that these were void relics, and they might contain treasures much greater than the price they’d paid for them - and they’d been seeing them laying around on missions, too. They’d have to pay attention and grab them next time they saw one. After a short hour of research, Kelth was much too full of energy to sit still anymore, and together with Sufford, they went out to see if they could crack one of these relics and see what was inside.

Right as they stepped out of the Liset, they could tell something was off - the air itself was crackling, felt ready to snap. Sufford was apprehensive about it, so Kelth forced themself to calm down and not rush him through this.

Slowly, they moved through the base, sniping enemy soldiers as they popped up. Sufford was uneasy about the difference in the air, so Kelth was on guard, as well. They’d read that the relic needed to be exposed to the void energy in the air here, but they weren’t entirely sure how to get it out-

A distance in front of them, a small hole in reality suddenly tore open. Sufford froze in surprise and nearly fumbled his next step, while Kelth was too awestruck to at first really pay attention to what it was doing to the void relic. Then, the enemies came through the tear.

Once they were dispatched, they inspected the dusty rock in Sufford’s belt-pocket, only to find that it was no longer dusty, and did in fact look like it had absorbed some of the energy from the fissure - it was humming softly, but not showing any signs of breaking open just yet.

“We’ve gotta find another,” Kelth said, excitedly. Sufford agreed, but he sounded short, pulling them out of it a little bit.

“What is it?” they asked, taken aback.

“We should finish this up quickly,” he said. “This is unpredictable matter.”

“You’re right,” they said. They’d celebrate their victory back on the Orbiter.

Two steps further, another fissure burst, this time right in front of them. Sufford’s shoulder flared up bright with pain - it felt as though it had burst apart along with the patch of reality in front of them, as though the Stalker’s blade had been driven through it anew. A quick check told Kelth he wasn’t bleeding - had he just been hit by some debris from that? There wasn’t-

Sufford staggered back, rifle falling to the ground as his right arm suddenly dropped to hang limply by his side. Enemies were coming through the fissure, but Sufford wasn’t ready. Halfway taking control, Kelth had him raise his pistol with his left hand and clear out the handful of hostiles, picking them off one by one, running between various crates to duck behind.

After the last one had fallen and they couldn’t detect any others coming to their location, he holstered the pistol and picked up the rifle again with his left hand. His right arm was still immobile, sending regular shocks of pain through his system, strong enough that Kelth could pick up on them. “To extraction?” he asked, strained. Kelth agreed. The relic wasn’t worth it.

—

The Helminth had scoffed at him when he had entered its room. No work to be done, it had said. No damage it hadn’t already fixed up earlier.

Sufford had admitted that the scarred-over injury was likely what had caused it - why exactly it had flared up so badly in proximity to void fissures, they could only guess. He also explained how it caused various other low-grade troubles for him, but none so bad that they’d ever impede the mission, so he hadn’t thought it very important to bring up. With a great and tired sense of déjà-vu, Kelth had scolded him for that one, and themself for not connecting the dots on this one earlier, too. It seems they’d been missing a lot of stuff, recently, and they were just going to give up on hoping they’d catch it all going forwards. It was important to remember that their best was all they could do.

The other important thing was that they were going to avoid void fissures like the plague. They might be able to strike up a deal with Kali about the ones they had gotten now and might find in the future, because they were still interested in the results from it, but they just wouldn’t be the ones cracking them open. That was alright by Kelth - not always being on the front lines suited them just fine.

Well, it was looking like they were a club of three now, together with Vince. A lot had changed in a short time, but they felt more settled now, more sure of themself and their team of two warframes.

Kelth couldn’t wait to see what was gonna mess it up next.

[tswwwit]

Here's a thing! Reincarnation of Dipper who's not in the best of situations. (A Cult)

Got some gore and knives in here so watch out!

In the room of ritual, everything is ready. 

Off in that wide and majestic space, the candles are lit. The circle is drawn. The altar spread with gold and trinkets, little offerings of delight and whimsy, tomes of knowledge. Along with the remnants of the latest sacrifice, dried in long trails down the stone.

The tomes, though. If one looked closely, they would see mostly encyclopedia volumes from like, sixty years ago. Because, yeah, those are going to be so tempting for a being of infinite knowledge.

Long chanting rings through the hallways, preparing the way. The ritual is in less than an hour. In preparation for the service, the servants of their lord make themselves presentable. 

Dipper adjusts his robe - too big for him, by at least one size- and pulls at the neckline. It always drags up against his throat, in a tight, uncomfortable way. He tugs it down again, glaring into the small mirror on the otherwise bare wall.

Bill Cipher is the most powerful being in the universe, and his reach is infinite and his discernment of the mind and mastery of mysteries is unquestionable, yadda yadda yadda. 

Dipper just. Doesn’t know what everyone else here expects to happen. Especially with the setup unchanged from the one he saw last year. And the year before that. And the one before that. 

Odds are, this ritual is going to end up the same as every other one. 

Pointless.

Dipper adjusts his robes again, and smooths out the front with slow strokes. As long as this is going to happen, he might as well avoid drawing attention to himself. He’s had enough ‘attention’ for more than a lifetime.

There’s a rhythm to these ceremonies.  Dipper hears the footsteps, and easily tucks the hood of his robe up, only semi-stumbling as he joins the twin lines of robed figures leading into the ritual room. 

As he tucks his hands together, covering them with long sleeves - Dipper spends another moment to silently sigh. 

He joins the line, ducking his head as he joins in formation. The two lines of followers shuffle on with their long robes brushing the floor. He can hear them whispering to each other; varying levels of excitement, boredom. Talking about plans for after the ritual. He thinks he picks up one of the more devout members, almost humming with anticipation.

Despite the murmurs, the sight itself could be quite impressive. An all-seeing eye, if it was real, might even appreciate it.

Still, all these dramatics are so over the top. Just as fruitless and stupid as every other prayer, or ritual. Never worked before, not gonna work now. Dipper’s not sure why they’re trying the same freakin’ thing, over and over again.

For a bunch of people obsessed with the infinite power and knowledge Cipher represents, they haven’t accrued any. 

And for that matter! If Bill Cipher’s eye is truly all-seeing, why hasn’t he ever responded? His triangle is emblazoned on every wall, and on their robes. You can’t look at a surface without seeing it staring back at you, and there’s no short of devout worshipers, constantly praying and doing rites. 

Dipper dares a glance at one of the long scrawls on the walls, seething slightly at the handwriting. And the grammar.

If he was watching, surely he would have spoken up by now. Even if it’s just to critique the decor, which is tacky as hell.

The main ritual room fills up with warm bodies, and Dipper stands in an inconspicuous place. Just to the left, and not quite entirely in the back. At the front of the room, he can see the priest nodding approvingly, hands tucked behind his back. 

Hidden under the sleeves, Dipper clenches his hands together. Breathing out a silent prayer of his own, to nobody particular. He can stand stock-still through one or two more ridiculous rituals, if it means no more prayers to a blind idiot god.

A week. Maybe two. That’s it.

Then he’ll be out of these robes, and far, far away from here. He’ll never see these people again. He’ll never have to chant a single verse again in slightly incorrect Latin. He’ll never have to kneel, or go before that stone altar again, not even once.

The outside world is - there’s a lot of talk about it. There’s always a lot of talk, more or less colored by personal experiences and levels of permission to go ‘outside’. Dipper’s learned, now, that well over ninety percent of the gossip is lies. 

If his palms still sweat at the prospect, it’s because it’s… New. Different. But it can’t possibly be worse than here, and, like. Novelty is condoned by his not-really-a-god. Trying new things should be standard doctrine - if the priest wasn’t a total idiot.

Not much longer, now. 

Out there, things will be better. Out there, Dipper will have a chance at having a life. 

And there won’t be any trouble, since he’ll keep his mouth shut.

 “Children of Cipher!” The high-pitched voice of the priest rings tinnily through the air. “We are once again assembled!”

Dipper bows in concert with his fellows. Staring at the ground is a good way to not roll his eyes. 

A chant rises up, and he keeps his lips clamped together as he mirrors the ritual bowing and scraping and general genuflection. The priest will go on and on, no matter what he does. 

All it takes to get through this is time. Another round of kneeling, then standing, then kneeling, until they stand at the last word in a thronging chorus.

“Brothers!” A louder, shriller call, now that everyone has been drawn close to a fervor. For all his faults, the priest does know how to read the mood - “Tonight is a special evening!” His arms thrown up, spindly and bare as the sleeves drop near to his shoulders. “Who will bleed for our god?”

The only thing that prevents Dipper from flinching is how much attention that would draw.

He hardly dares to breathe, lest some wayward motion be taken as ‘enthusiasm.’ 

Dipper keeps his head bowed, as murmurs start up around him and�� his forehead starts to prickle with sweat. 

Sacrifices happen all the time. Mostly animals. Last year they got a goat, and that was considered a pretty big one and the stew afterwards was filling, and probably tasted pretty good. 

Human blood, though. That’s - They haven’t done this in years. 

The susurration of voices in the background grow louder, and Dipper stays bowed in place. Of course nobody wants to volunteer; ‘willing’ isn’t easily found when it comes to getting a knife in your flesh - but someone’s going to bleed, tonight. The ‘volunteer’ bit will be justified by whatever’s convenient.

Around him there’s murmurs, a few, low arguments. Tension is starting to rise, but for the most part, he’s being overlooked.

He nearly thinks he’s gotten away with it, too, when a hard shove on his back sends him stumbling forward.

“Here, brothers!” The voice rings in Dipper’s ears as he tries to backtrack, slipping on the robes of the person in front of him and dropping painfully to the floor. “The provider!”

Shit, shit, shit. 

Dipper tries to glance back at whatever asshole pushed him, but the crowd’s already grouped together into a bunch of faceless clumps, drawing back from his fall. 

He levels the worst glare he can manage, even as both his arms are seized by two of his so-called ‘brothers’. The big ones. 

Gritting his teeth, Dipper digs in his heels. Struggling’s ineffective, protesting’s impossible. Gesturing wildly, including a raised finger in the general direction of the asshole who pushed him, Dipper gets dragged to the foot of the altar. 

“See how he offers his flesh! See how he shakes with joy!” The priest jogs his arms in the air. Dipper shakes his head rapidly holding up his hands. “His arms, already offered!”

And for a moment Dipper’s simply annoyed at how obvious it is that the whole damn ritual is a farce. 

“Tonight, we call upon the god! Tonight! We-”

Whatever else he’s yelling about, Dipper doesn’t pay any mind. He’s busy trying to use the loose robes to worm his way out of the guards’ grip. It halfway works, until one of them gets him by the bare wrist and painfully pulls it out.

The cold stone hits his waist. One of his sleeves is drawn to his shoulder. His arm pinned, bare and wrist upraised, on the stone. 

Damn it, if he finds out who shoved him, he’s going to - he arches up, but firm hands hold his shoulders. There’s little time to think about revenge when he’s trying to find a way out of this. Arm, stuck. Shoulders, held. The exits, totally blocked by a bunch of crowded figures. 

In a way, Dipper can’t truly blame them. After all, if the current sacrifice got away, who knows? 

They could be next. 

The priest seems pleased, at least. He paces in front of the altar, gesticulating wildly, and rambling on about god and blood, and other nonsensical bullshit.

Great. They have their ‘sacrifice’ for tonight. So, so super ‘willing’ too, what with how he, quote ‘rushed to offer himself’, end quote. 

Dipper takes a long breath, holding it for three beats. Then he lets it out. 

Okay. If this follows most other ‘human sacrifices’, it should be bearable. Some bloodletting, a nasty scar. Maybe a missing finger, but he’s learned to deal with worse. Push through the moment, wait for it to be over. Soon enough, he’ll be on the other side of this entire godawful situation.

Focusing on the transitory nature of pain helps him steady his breathing. And more importantly, slow his heart rate.

Calming meditation. He can work on that. Though it’s difficult, with the way the priest keeps going on and on about an ‘auspicious night’. Also, the very large, curved, very sharp-looking knife.

Dipper tries his best not to stare at it. Or to linger too much on the thought of knives and flesh and blood. If he could stop thinking, for once in his stupid life, it’ll be over before he knows it.

That’s totally not not the usual knife, though. He wonders where the hell it came from.

Last time, it was some basic utilitarian repurposed chef-thing, with a crudely engraved triangle on the hilt and the blade. This one’s much more… Ceremonial. Sharper, too, with a wicked curve and a gleaming edge, and covered in runes that Dipper’s never seen before.

He mouths a swear as one guard uncurls his fingers from the edge of the altar, turning his wrist back upright. The priest waves the very, very sharp blade around, yelling something that Dipper doesn’t bother parsing, even as his mind races. He can tell it’s definitely not Cipher runes on that thing, and not the old Latin their god prefers. Did someone go outside to find this? Another random artifact that the priest got his hands on? Seems like he’s always picking up useless semi-magic items.

The knife doesn’t feel ‘useless’, though, even from a glance. It radiates a pure and terrifying purpose. 

Especially as it comes down, and rests against his wrist. Almost gently, its point bites a drop of blood from his skin.

The fetid breath of the priest pants over the altar. Dipper turns away, neck twisting as far as he can manage, eyes shut.

Please let this be just a bit. Just a drop. A small, tentative cut to fill a bit of the channels on the stone. There’s a sting to the metal, a slight burn, and though Dipper’s not one of the main Holders of Mysteries or anything, he feels like that’s a very bad sign.

Then he feels. Cold.

It runs down his inner arm, lingering for an instant before blossoming into sharp, bright pain. He nearly chokes on air, cringing into a hunched position as he feels the knife slide.

The catching drag of the old knife would have been painful, but that was mostly used for taking a finger, or maybe dragging across the back of the arm, in a more decorative than productive way of drawing blood. 

The ease with which this knife cuts sends a deep, swirling nausea straight to the pit of his stomach.

“Behold, the flow! The magic gathers, my children!” THe priest’s voice warbles a bit as “With this tool, with this magic, our god will hear our call! He will behold our devotion, and raise us to glory! He will answer-” More and more words, variations on encouragement. Zero substance, all hype. A fanatical motivation speaker, Dipper thinks, half-hysterically. 

Vapid or not, the result is effective. The sight of blood has certainly spurred everyone into a kind of frenzy, whether from fear or fervor, Dipper doesn’t care.

And they’re certainly getting a lot of blood. More than required.

Dipper struggles up against the hold, but it’s pointless. He ‘s stuck there for a few long minutes, oozing out for an audience that can’t even see half the damn thing, and it hurts. 

The red trail gathers, slowly pooling down and into the engraven triangle. Enough to fill the shallow channels easily, which, uh. Dipper’s never seen before. With the other sacrifices it kind of stopped and clotted, but this moves like it’s being wicked along the surface.

He makes a face as  his blood slowly travels through the lines, but can’t see any surface changes, or feel anything that might have been put on the stone.  

Until it connects at the top point. Then it meets, completing the image of Bill with a strange, too-bubbly ‘blorp’. 

Okay. Weird. But that’s plenty, right? Ritual done, blood offered, and now, he should get going.

Lurching upward gets the grip to loosen up on his arms, as the guards loosen their grip a bit. They already have what they need, and hell. Dippers deserves a friggin’ break. With the immediate attention off him, he can dare a glance at his arm - 

And instantly averts his gaze to absolutely anything else. 

The priest turns around, arms raised. Pumping them  in the air, knife glinting in the candlelight. “Yes. Yes!” He swings the blade around, nearly catching one of the big brothers in the side. “See how easily the liquid flows. The power builds! I can feel it - the summoning, in this room tonight!”

The crowd calls out their enthusiasm, a high rising ‘oooh’ noise. 

Dipper sighs, and tries to scoot back away from the altar. It’s done, at least; he’ll just have to cope with the aftermath. Could be worse.

“The other arm, brothers!” A loud, clarion call. Dipper whips his head around,  as the priest lowers his arms - and turns back around. Pointing at Dipper. Again. “I feel the blade crave more!” 

Uh, hello? What?

Dipper glances up at the knife. At how the slight sheen of blood has dipped into some of the runes, the faint glow -  and goes ‘huh’. 

Alright, he’ll admit. It’s definitely magical. 

But he’s beginning to suspect it has less to do with Bill, and a lot more to do with other forces. Ones that might, say, make a ritual flow smoothly. Or make a fanatical asshole even more bloodthirsty.

Behind him, he almost feels the guards shrug, right before he gets shoved against the altar again. One of the assholes even dares to pat his side, in a brief bit of unexpected sympathy. Not that it means anything. 

Dipper longs to curse them out, to scream at every single one of these absolute jackasses. Every one of them is just watching this happen. Nobody thinks about what happens next, ever, including - 

He grits his teeth instead, hard enough that he thinks something might crack.

Everyone follows orders. The words of their supposed ‘god’, filtered through a man who’s fallible and frail and frankly fucking stupid.  Always getting stupid magical trinkets. Always trying to find a link to that demonic god, constantly pursuing magic, and power, and influence. No matter the cost.

Why would he care if one of the too-few worshipers pays the price?

And fuck that.

Before, Dipper struggled as much as he could. Partly from fear, sure. But mostly to make a point. That this was stupid and painful, and wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Knowing that with enough kicking and protest, he might get them to cut things short.

Now, seeing the priest whip the blade back around, raising overhead with both hands - he fights.

A solid kick lands in the left guard’s groin, and he gets his wounded arm back. Dipper clutches it to his chest, but the other’s still pinned and being twisted, now. Another kick gets something softer, and he hears a huff from the priest. Then a loud, angry order to ‘Hold him down!’.

Dipper’s shoved into the stone, stomach digging into the edge of the altar hard enough to make him gag. His head hits the surface, more dizzying than painful. There's a hand gripped in his hair. Then his other sleeve is drawn up, his healthy arm extended over the table. Bare skin exposed, lying over the bloody surface. 

He breathes heavily, nose nearly against the altar. It quickly grows hot from his breath, and moist, too, which is probably why his face feels wet. He doesn’t hear anything but his own harsh panting. 

He never wanted to be a part of this, he never wanted to grow up like this. In a week or so, he was going to get out, and now he’s going to get hurt again, so soon, and he only has so much blood in him. He doesn’t want to die. He shuts his eyes, tucking up against himself. Hoping the weight of his body will drag his arm away where his own strength couldn’t, choking back a tightness in his throat. He was nearly out. He was nearly safe.

He was almost free. 

He breathes harder, shutting his eyes tight. He presses his forehead against the runes, and the blood, and just wishes he wasn’t here. 

Metal clangs on the floor, ringing bright as a bell. 

There’s a sudden intake of breath. Dipper feels the hands release him, a shocked sound. Then the ‘flump’ of a lot of draped fabric, all at once. 

Dipper keeps his face against the stone, breathing slower. That’s. That’s not how any ritual goes.

He can’t waste the opportunity, though. Now that his arms are free, Dipper pulls his sleeve back up, bundling it around the cut. Shit. Does he clench his fist or leave his grip loose? Which one slows blood flow. 

Whatever interrupted this isn’t going to last. He’s only got a few seconds before everyone comes back to whatever passes for their senses, and tries to ‘complete the summoning’, or whatever the hell they were after.

Gotta act. Gotta - Dipper wheels around, panting for breath. 

In front of the altar, all the robed figures in the room have fallen to their knees. The priest’s dropped the knife. Dipper scoots it a little closer to himself with a foot, watching as the zealot raises his arms in devout praise. 

Dipper pauses. Still clenching tight on his wrist, though his sleeve is starting to feel damp. Things don’t just stop like that. The ritual has to continue. People should be surging up to keep the momentum, but the entire room is -

Oh. 

Yeah, now he sees it. 

All the candles were lit before. They give a little light to a room that’s never seen electronics in its life, dim as it is. 

Right now, they’re bursting with flame, rising high enough to cast weird shadows over the cavern - 

And it’s a very bright blue. 

Shit.

Dipper whirls around, unsteady on his feet. Staring at a long, long trail of rising blood. Almost a string, or a reverse droplet, floating up from the triangle carved on the stone. In midair it spreads into a thin web, shapeless and vaguely pulsing. 

Okay. That is definitely magical. And absolutely up to no good. 

He fumbles around - where did he kick the knife? Maybe if he breaks it, it’ll interrupt this whole thing. Who knows what the hell that idiot priest did, or where he got the artifact, or what it does. 

Dipper doesn’t know much about gods, or spirits, or demons, but anything that gets pulled in by a blood sacrifice can’t be a good sign. He spots the damn thing near the opposite corner, and braces himself on the altar. It he’s careful, he can reach it without alerting anyone. Maybe.

Which is when the entire hall fills with bright, loud laughter.

“Well, well, well, well, well!” The voice rings just as brightly as the laugh. Dipper jerks towards the sound, involuntarily, only to see a single eye open inside the breath web of blood. “What do we have here?”

There’s a resounding groan from the crowd. Various people start chanting, but they’re all using different verses, and the priest starts his own, presumably improvised, wail of praise and devotion. The end result is an ear-rattling clamor. 

Dipper looks back at the altar. Watching the blood twist in this way, and that. The eye alights on him for a moment - he freezes - but it moves on from him quickly, examining the room.

There’s a lot to see, too. Maybe terrified, devout worshipers isn’t weird for a supernatural entity, but it’s thoroughly freaking Dipper out. Even the priest is on his knees.

“Boy, it’s been a while since I’ve had this kinda summon!” The net stretches, almost elastic; twisting into limblike shapes, and fractal forms. The slit-pupiled eye rolls back and forth. Then it blinks twice. “Might as well get dressed for the occasion! Hold on a sec.”

The eye shuts into nothingness. Moments later, the blood starts getting really active, pulsing faster, twisting into shapes like it’s alive.

Dipper spares a terrified check on his wrist, but. No, he’s not feeding it, or anything. This is something else. Someone else, taking the material and lending it power enough to grow. 

Even as he watches, there’s a spreading arch of bone and the twist of veins. A fairly glorpy assortment of something between and below what looks like ribs, a strange thick blackness tinged with yellow…

He cringes back, and shuts his eyes. Shit, watching this is deeply unsettling. 

Not that it’s gory, per se - that would imply that something’s being taken apart, when it shouldn’t be. This is something being put together, a way that it shouldn’t ever be.

He backs up a step from the writhing mass, getting more fleshy by the instant. Then grimaces, teetering in place. Blood loss, right. From the asshole who started this whole thing. He levels a glare at said asshole - 

But. Beside him, the priest is quivering with tension. Trembling like he didn’t expect this to happen.

Frankly? Neither did Dipper. For all the times they’ve done a ritual, there’s never been a reaction like this. 

This insane mass, forming insanely out of nothing. Or well, from blood, that spread out in a weird three-dimensional - triangle, oh shit -

He should have known. Should have noticed. This was a summon, and while the object used wasn’t for the right being, maybe that doesn't’ matter with so much gathered intent. 

This is….

Dipper falls, awkwardly, to his knees. Then ducks down in as low a bow as he can manage, pulling the hood of his robe back over his head.

Part of him thought Bill didn’t exist, or at least not in the way these guys talked about him. Maybe they’d latched onto some other spirit or deity, and completely misinterpreted everything. Maybe they’d made it all up, including some of the really old texts. There was never any evidence that their lord and master was real.  

But given what’s happening here…

Like hell is he gonna look like the only person who doesn’t. 

Something - two things - go ‘clack’ on the altar. A few series of taps. 

Then a long, pleased sigh, and the sound of soft movement, like cloth.

Dipper keeps looking down. The hood keeps him anonymous, another faceless shape in the crowd. Just one more figure genuflecting before his - 

Before a god. 

One that might not even deserve a capital letter on the word, perhaps, but still an entity that he should not, under any circumstances, piss off. 

There’s a tap that sounds like a shoe, and a low hum. Something lands beside him with a thud. In the brief moment that he raises his head, Dipper catches sight of black loafers, and long fingers on an oddly human-looking hand. 

He quickly lowers himself more towards the floor, holding his arm tight. 

Yep, just one more super-devoted believer, same as all the others. Super not important enough to notice.

“You know, blood’s usually for blood gods!” Bill Cipher’s voice rings through the room. It’s higher than Dipper expected it to be. One of the fancy-looking black shoes kicks the knife up into the air, where it’s caught by the long fingers of that hand. “Pretty wild for you guys to pull this. With another guy’s artifact, of all things!” A chiding tut, and the knife twirls. “And pretty disrespectful, I gotta say.”

“My lord.” The priest’s voice is dry, even for a guy who already sounded half-dessicated. He rises to his knees, hands clasped together. “We meant no disrespect. We are here to serve you, master. As we always have.”

“Uh huh,” Bill says. In Dipper’s limited sight, he toys idly with the knife, pressing the tip against the finger of an opposite hand. A bead of something dark wells up, and he rubs his fingers together. 

The priest recites several lines of a chant, making a triangle with his fingers. So eager, and so totally missing the disinterest in Bill’s tone- “We have always been searching for you, our worship unending! You honor us with your presence. You shine upon us your infinite glory!”

“Sure you have,” Bill says, sounding, if anything, bored. The blade in his hand flips around between his fingers, then back again. The motion reminds Dipper of a very deadly fidget spinner. “Do tell.”

Which is when the priest surges up, nearly grabbing onto Bill’s thigh. He’s only stopped by a rapid sidestep. 

Dipper cringes back out of secondhand embarrassment. Bad move. Dumb move. ‘Devoted’ or not, Bill was bored already - and infinite beings of pure energy do not like being manhandled by mortals. 

“Let us use this connection, and the blade! Let us complete the sacrifice.” The priest continues, undeterred. Shuffling closer on his knees, he spreads his arms wide, inviting and eager. “The blood could grant you all your power, that you might grant us-”

“Pass.” Bill says dismissively. The knife flashes, and there’s a wet, solid ‘thunk’. 

Dipper catches a brief glimpse of the priest’s face - stuck in shock, pale and lined with age - just before his body falls to the floor, as limp as a ragdoll. The knife handle in his chest props him up at a weird angle, before a swift kick from a black shoe sends it tumbling down the short three steps of the dais.

Dipper cringes into a smaller ball, trying to scrunch himself into invisibility. He watches Bill pass in front of him, standing in front of the crowd. The hand rests on a hip, while the other is raised out of site. Still far, far too close.

On the one hand, Bill’s examining the congregation. Distracted, for a moment. Staying out of his attention is so, so great. 

Dipper curls up in a much, much tighter ball despite that. 

In every single one of his plans to get out of here, Bill Cipher existing wasn’t a factor. Much less his actual, physical presence. All he’d ever thought about was how this was bullshit, that the people he knew were awful - and how hopefully, nobody would notice if he left. Now the ‘god’ himself is here. Standing so near Dipper he could, if he wanted, stupidly touch the hem of his pants.

A distant, insane part of him chimes in with the stupid idea that it’s nothing to really worry about. 

Like, compared to how he’s still losing blood, for example. 

Right. Staunch first, panic later.

Dipper wraps his sleeve around his arm, as subtly as he can, teeth gritted. His first priority is to stop bleeding. No escape plan - or any plan for that matter - is going to be useful if he dies. 

The immensely powerful nightmare god is also a problem, obviously. But in this moment he’s not the immediate threat. 

“Hmmm.” Bill lets out a low, contemplative hum. It resonates in the room, with how deathly silent things have become. “Let’s see here…”

After a pause, he snaps his fingers. “Stand!” 

The entire congregation leaps to their feet. One of them stumbles and gets a swift kick in the side.

“Sit!” Bill commands. Everyone drops to the floor. A low chuckle, then, “Turn around three times and bark like a dog!”

Oh, now that won’t - 

Or maybe it will. Dipper cringes, back pressed against the altar. Don’t just comply, what the hell. Sure it’s a magical god-being, but - fuck. He watches the scene with a grimace. 

Bill, though, seems to be having a great time. He’s bouncing in place, voice bright with enthusiasm. “Do a little dance! Twist yourself until your joints snap! Hell, start a fight with the guy next to you!”

There’s havoc in the room of ritual. Robed figures practically fall all over themselves, and Dipper notes with a nauseating turn that some of them have drawn knives of their own. Chaos reigns; an entire scramble to do each possible thing, all at once. 

And Bill’s laughter rings out over everything, clapping his hands in delight.

Dipper’s trapped in this room with an insane madman, leading a horde of equally insane idiots, and he doesn’t have a way out. He hopes he’ll stay out of notice. He hopes that he’ll live through the next five minutes.

There’s no controlling the situation, but he can improve his odds.

The altar’s pretty close, and Bill’s turned away, for the moment. Dipper scoots back, inching himself towards the corner. With enough shuffling, he might be able to move behind it and get out of sight. 

“Welp,” Bill claps his hands again, this time with finality. Some of the chaos stills. “You’re all annoying, boring little vermin, but maybe you guys could improve. I noticed the blood you used to summon me was real choice stuff!” The exaggerated sound of a kiss. “Very nice.”

Dipper feels sweat building up in his robes, and tries to be very still. Basically part of the ritual scenery. Anonymous furniture, at best.  

“In fact. It was so nice.” The voice continues, at a lower tone. Almost a purr. There’s a clack of shoes on stone. “Let’s see who this little treat is!”

The god seizes Dipper’s wrist - the wounded one, sending a bolt of pain down his arm - and clamps his palm around it, incredibly tight. 

Before he knows it, Dipper’s standing again, involuntarily, staring past his hood into a bright, glowing eye.

He’s meeting his god. He’s been noticed by Bill Cipher. 

So far he’s not trembling, so. That’s one thing he has going for him. 

Bill’s eye flicks down, then up again, almost thoughtful. Any question about his power is quickly tossed aside, because holy shit; the magic is nearly palpable, thrumming into Dipper’s skin and making his heart race. 

He’s also sporting a bright, wide grin, in a face that makes Dipper do a double-take.

Like. He thought - he glances at the triangle on the back of the wall, then to the person in front of him. 

Okay, it’s said that Bill Cipher can take any form he wants, human included, but, like. What?

Thankfully, Bill doesn’t seem to notice any of the insane, stupid things Dipper is thinking. All he does is raise his hand, and with one quick motion, sweep the hood off of Dipper’s head. 

Dipper flinches back. Jaw clenched, eye shut. 

Shit, shit, shit. Special attention. All the scenarios he can think of say ‘not good’. Best case scenario, it’s because Bill wants to thank him, for... Whatever his blood did. The rest of them involve increasingly terrifying ideas about what ‘nice blood’ means, and how much of it Bill might want. All of it, say. Maybe immediately. 

Dipper can’t pull away, not with such a strong hold on his arm. Fighting is downright dumb. Trembling’s happening, despite his best efforts, and the intrusive thought bubbles up that, hey, at least there’s lots of pressure on his wound. Could be worse.

Nothing happens. For several seconds.

Eventually, Dipper peeks an eye open. 

There’s Bill Cipher, looking back at him. His eye is literally lit up, the pleased grin wide on his face. 

Dipper waits for an order, but the god doesn’t speak. He just wiggles his eyebrows. If anything, he looks oddly… expectant?

Fuck. Dipper has to do something. 

What the hell, there isn’t any doctrine for this.

Sure, he knows all of the catechism, and each chant he was taught. He’s got an encyclopedic memory of everything he was taught about this powerful interdimensional god-being, he knows every ritual back and forth. The tenets spring to mind, unbidden: Be obedient, speak his words, serve him in all ways - and most of all, don’t think. 

But Dipper can’t chant. He hasn’t been told to do anything yet. And though it’d be a death sentence, if serving involves more bleeding he’d be tempted to kick again. Hell, he literally just watched everyone else trying the other bits. They did exactly what they were supposed to, and that was ‘boring’. 

He never could stop thinking, though. 

Now, his mind is racing.

A little-known and never-preached fact about Bill Cipher is that he doesn’t, actually, like rules all that much - 

So. 

Dipper offers a hesitant, closed-mouth smile. He wiggles the fingers of his free hand, a bit awkwardly, in greeting. 

Then ducks his head again, wishing he still had a hood to cover his face.

That didn’t make it weird, right? That’s a normal, devout thing to do. Coming from a totally religious guy, who’s only slightly damp from all the sweating.

“Oh.” Bill’s voice lowers to something like a purr. He tucks a knuckle under Dipper’s chin, lifting him to meet his single eye again. An eye that’s glowing now, bright gold and  half-lidded. “Ten outta ten on the offering, guys. Very cute.” 

Which is a little weird, but probably - 

“Y’know what?” And Bill’s grin widens, bright and wild, as his thumb strokes Dipper’s chin. “I like this one.”

Uh oh.

Dipper tries sinking down into his oversized robes, but Bill just fishes around inside them until he can pull Dipper up again by his undershirt. 

“In fact,” Bill declares, sounding proud. He pulls Dipper in closer, hand still clamped painfully tight on his wounded wrist. “I’m gonna keep him.”

What?

Immediately after that declaration, Dipper’s tugged in close, thumping against his side. Bill turns to start barking orders at the congregation, sharp and sneering.

Dipper can’t quite parse it. He’s still running over the last few words in his head. 

In the ritual room, the candles flare even higher, temperature rising to an uncomfortable degree. Dipper watches two worshipers collide with each other in their frantic obedience, and can’t even laugh about it.

‘Keep’, Bill said. 

What does that mean? Everything here is already ‘Bill’s’, in a way. But the way he said it sounded… oddly specific. 

A hopeful part of Dipper chimes in that it might just mean ‘not let him bleed out’, but he’s never been that lucky before, and there’s no reason it would start now.

With everything else going on. With the presence of a god. e. 

The cultists are bustling about; a few of them deposit things near Bill’s feet, like gifts upon the altar. Boxes, totems, more lit candles that Bill idly kicks over onto one of their robes, watching them flail at the sudden burst of fire. 

Eventually, Bill considered the task ‘done’, or close enough. He sighs, shaking his head. “About time, guys! Talk about slow. Hard to get good followers these days.”

Bill clicks his tongue in distaste, then snaps his fingers.

Dipper hears a weird ‘zmmm’ sound to his left. He notices that Bill’s suit is really soft material, and also that he probably shouldn’t be grabbing it like this. 

He doesn’t dare look at the sound. Not when Bill’s turned towards him with smug pride, like he’s pulled off a plan without a hitch. 

“Man, it's only been fifteen minutes, and I’ve had it with these losers.” Bill gives the congregation a look of disgust, then turns back to Dipper. That grin reemerges like the sunrise. “Screw these guys, am I right?”

This time, Dipper’s smile is involuntary. He quashes it fast, but not before Bill notices.

“That’s what I thought.” Bill says, with deep pleasure. He takes a step closer to the altar, pulling Dipper along with a surprising lack of force. “So! What’d’ya say we ditch this joint?”

Dipper doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know what’s been happening, either, other than it’s all been going way too fast.

But Bill Cipher is looking at him, still. Present, powerful. Eager for a response. 

Dipper just shrugs.

He wouldn’t know what to say even if he still had his tongue. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Bill says, eminently pleased. Pulling Dipper in closer, with an arm suddenly around his waist. “Hold on tight! It ain’t a bumpy ride, but it’s a weird one.”

Dipper follows as he walks. Partly on automatic, and partly because what the hell else is he supposed to do?

About three steps in, he realizes they’re both walking on thin air, towards and over the altar. 

He jerks his head over, blinking at the source of that ‘zmm’ sound. 

Because of course summoning am interdimensional god-being would leave a remnant. He had to come from somewhere. 

Like, say, a weird red-yellow gap in space, with nonsense things flung around in a black and bizarre starscape. Dipper catches a glimpse of something with two many limbs, and of a series of screaming mouths with no bodies, and a duck and a grandfather clock, tumbling through the air. 

It’s almost like it might be a nightmare dimension. Who could have thought.

With nothing else to cling to, his free hand clamps Bill’s shoulder, tight. 

“You’re my guest for the next while, sapling.” Bill says, squeezing him tight in return as he steps in - and drags Dipper alongside him, stalking into the portal. “Glad to have you!”

[bkdk-myrelationshipacademia]

Deku

For a moment he just looked at me. I like his eyes like this. He looked as if he was longing for an answer. An answer that I can’t give him. He stared a little longer into my eyes, and I wondered if I was as hard to read as he was. Suddenly I had an entirely new concern and I physically felt my face shift to something more opaque. Almost immediately a confused look appeared on his then he dropped my hand and slowly the anger in his eyes returned and he turned to walk away from me to the dorm. I wanted to tell him to wait. I wanted to tell him to stop. I wanted to tell him how I felt and what I wanted more than anything was for him to keep holding my hand. To keep looking into each other's eyes, but the moment was over maybe the only moment we would ever have. Was it enough for me to live with? The next three days will be unbearable. The next three days cleaning and cooking, no classes all alone. Well all alone except Kacchan who hates me. Or maybe I need to look at it differently. The next three days with Kacchan and a chance to get him to stop hating me. The next three days to get another moment with him, another chance to look into his eyes, to hold his hand, and maybe to get him to tell me how he feels before I embarrass myself telling him the answer to the question he asked me tonight. What I want.

~~~

Kacchan 

That damn nerd. Looking at me like that. Refusing to speak. He thinks I care. I refuse to be weak. I have trained hard to come this far and become this strong. I won't allow him to be another thing I worry about. Maybe I didn’t allow him enough time to speak… No that can’t be it his face completely shut down. I won’t allow him to get another chance at making me weak. At becoming my weakness. That's why I won’t look back. I don’t care if I know he is standing there looking like a pathetic weakling. If I look back now there is no telling what I would do. I’d probably start another fight, and then the next four days of house arrest would turn into seven. Ugh the next three days with that damn nerd. Damn it. I didn’t even think about how many opportunities he’d have to talk to me when we are alone, to try and make me weak. I’ll just have to avoid him. 

~~~

Deku

I woke up early to work out before I went to make breakfast for my classmates but when I got downstairs Kacchan had already finished preparing it. He had plated it up for everyone including me. He looked at me. For a moment it felt just like last night. It was soft and kind, then the anger appeared on his face as he quickly grabbed his plate and walked by me. I may be wrong but I think he slowed down as he passed. Maybe he wanted to say something. More likely he wanted to hit me. 

~~~

Kacchan

I woke up early so I wouldn’t have to see him. The plan was to be back upstairs before he was even out of bed. Subconsciously as I cooked I knew I was going too slow. I knew he was going to come down. I knew that I would see him. When he walked down I wasn’t shocked. I was relieved to see him one time, but after this no more. I grabbed my plate and began to walk back to my room. He just stared and as I got closer I thought of all the things I could say to him to extend this moment in time. To extend the amount of time I got to look at him. I had to remind myself that was the weakness in me trying to claw its way out. So instead I just said “Dinner is on you.” Then I walked up to my room. I started hearing everyone else get ready and go down to eat. A little while after classes had started I heard a knock at my door. I knew it had to be that damn nerd. 

~~~

Deku

It was easy to come up with a plan. The question then was would it be easy to execute. Could I lie to Kacchan? I mean it was easy enough to believe he probably wouldn’t question it, but he definitely would hate it. 

~~~

Kacchan

I didn’t want to answer, but I figured he was just going to divide up the work which is good because it means that I could strategically plan my day to avoid him. I opened the door and there he was looking like a puppy. Eyes wide and excited as if doing chores was better that training or going to class. Personally I can’t think of anything worse than falling behind the rest of our class granted I could probably miss a whole week and those idiots still couldn’t beat me. 

“Hi Kacchan! I figured we could get started working so that way we have enough time to do some private studying and training together.” Even the implication that we would work together made me sick to my stomach. 

“Who said anything about doing this together? Give me half the list and I’ll get my stuff done while you get your half of the list done. This is a divide and conquer situation.”

~~~

Deku

This is it. The only way I am going to get him to spend time with me.

“Well actually Aizawa stopped by while you were up here. He said in order to increase our teamwork and prevent us from fighting again we are supposed to complete every task together.” I almost immediately regretted saying that. The door slammed immediately. 

I waited there. All I wanted was to spend time with him so he’d forgive me for last night

~~~

Kacchan

Three days with Deku. Cleaning together. Training together. How am I supposed to look at him after last night? I all but told him how I felt, and in return he shut down. I don’t wanna be embarrassed. I don’t wanna look weak in front of him. I want to be strong for him. I can do this. I can make it through three days with him without becoming weak. Maybe it will make me stronger. I took a deep breath and reopened my door. Standing in front of me was Midoriaya looking like a broken toy. 

~~~

Deku

The door reopened. I looked up and I could have swore I saw a glimpse of sympathy on his face before it shifted to something a bit more resentful. He reached his arm up to scratch the back of his head. His arm was so well defined it was as if he was trying to tease me. Draw me in so he can dominate me emotionally as he did physically last night. Maybe I made a mistake. Was it too late to take it back and divide the list evenly?

“I say we train first that way whatever mess we make we can clean up afterwards. I’ll meet you downstairs in 5 minutes. Go change into something to work out in. You better be ready too. The next time we fight I want you to at least try and beat me.” He said. I felt a little anger and a little excitement build up in me. 

“I will beat you!” I practically screamed. 

“You better or I swear to god I’ll kill you.” He said as he closed his door. 

~~~

Kacchan

I think I found a solution for my problem. If I wanted to be able to tell that damn nerd how I felt without creating another weakness he needed to be strong enough to defeat anything that came at him. Including me. I am going to push him until he breaks.

I changed into some athletic shorts and a sleeveless shirt and headed downstairs. There he was waiting for me. To mats set up on the floor weights nearby. He was stretching his legs leaning back and forth. I just stood there and watched for a moment. I forget how efficient he is. He doesn’t like to waste time so he made sure to set everything up so we could have a good workout session. It seemed like his entire demeanor had changed; upstairs he was acting like a beaten dog now he seemed enthusiastic about training together. He had come so far from the weekling he was when we were younger. Yet he still had a type of childlike enthusiasm that I can’t help but notice. I just kind of continued to look at him until I noticed he was looking back. 

“How long have you been there? You said five minutes it’s been nearly fifteen. I would have figured you would have been on time considering your threat.”

“I-- I just got down here you damn idiot. It’s none of your business, but I figured I’d brush my teeth considering I just ate. Speaking of which, don't forget you are responsible for cooking dinner. I made breakfast so I will stand there and watch so that we are still ‘working together’” I retorted. 

I grabbed a weight and before I even began to curl it that idiot stopped me. 

“Aren’t you going to stretch first?” He asked. 

“Listen you damn nerd. In a real fight you won’t have time to stretch, that's a weak mentality to have.”

“Look, let me help you. I've already stretched so I can make sure you hit all the muscles we plan to work out today.” 

“Who said you're leading this work out? I’m In charge here. Obviously you're the one that needs help cause you don’t even have control over the full capacity of your power.” 

“If we are supposed to be increasing our teamwork, we should compromise. I’ll help you stretch--”

“I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP! I can stretch on my own then we can get started.”  He is so infuriating. That's when he took a step forward. 

“Fine, tell me what to do and I'll do whatever you say.” He said. I don’t know why, but that statement made me blush a little. Hopefully he interpreted it as rage rather than anything else. 

We finished stretching relatively quickly and can I just say that his range of motion is insane. I could practically fold him into any position I wanted.

“Ok. Let’s get started!” 

We did a couple simple workouts. That's when I got an idea. One that would give me an excuse to get close to him. If I was going to have to be around him for the next three days I might as well enjoy myself. I let him finish his rep then I threw a punch. It hit him right in the side. He turned to face me quickly. I could sense the power surging in him. I smiled. 

~~~

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[thesketchystar]

Wake Up Babes, New DCA x Reader Fic Just Dropped!

I come with a humble offering of my very-first-ever writing. Of course it is these goddamn jesters.

Here's the AO3 link

Summary:

"Waking up in a strange place with no memory of how you got there, you find yourself accompanied by friends you don't know and surrounded by animatronics reminiscent of a video game you're barely aware exists.

With nothing but a vague feeling of familiarity and your own intuition, you must navigate the complexities of your newfound life. Uncover its mysteries, evolve friendships with humans and animatronics alike, and grapple with growing affections and high tensions.

Just beware the dangers lurking within your new world."

I'll make some art for it soon, but hopefully someone enjoys the first chapter. ^^

[potatobugz]

Chapter 2 is out!

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread

To Shape A Dragon’s Breath

YA fantasy

a young Indigenous girl finds & bonds with a dragon hatchling - the first time in many generations for her people - and is required to go to the coloniser’s dragon academy in their mainland city, to learn how to raise her dragon and the science of its magic

historical inspired setting on the cusp of industrial revolution with steampunk vibes

bi polyamorous MC, Black lesbian SC, nonverbal autistic SC

[transrightsjimin]

i wish the venom #5 comic series was less depressive and overly complex and negative and time loop-heavy and removing all the character growth that was built up for 35 years (and removing the main characters themselves technically)

and instead more of this. himbo frankenstein

[wishjacked]

more recent cargo pages :-)

i really am just so glad about finishing volume one... it feels SO good to be starting on the next part of the story and i'm so happy to have gotten to this little milestone. it feels so special

[hawkeish]

have we reached the events of the game yet? no!

have we met Varric yet? no! (we will next chapter I swear)

am I having a good time writing? yes!

chapter 3 of romance sonámbulo - my (eventual) rookanis (very) slow-build longfic with lots of fun changes to canon and a Very Normal Mourn Watch Rook - is up

[shig-a-shig-ah]

Might have taken a month longer than I hoped but Addicted to Bad Ideas updates this weekend!

[doevademe]

I've been really busy these past few days with my writing...

Next chapter of Cycle of Death will be up within the next 24 hours.

[inthewaterifoundyou]

Chapter Six!

Title: And In the Water I Found You (Growing Like a Weed) Chapter Summary: "He could solve his problems without murder. His thoughts returned to the body his van—well, he amended, most of his problems.” Peter covers up a murder with varying levels of success, gets on a waitress's nerves, and makes a friend

[LINK]

[breitzbachbea]

I cannot wait to write tomorrow, i remembered yesterday HOW good the scene in IA is where Franci loses his shit and I just. I love writing so much!!! It sucks when the self-doubt is strong and it's hard and I have to spend so much energy on it, but I love writing and editing!!! I love telling a banger story, I love to let myself be taken on a journey and discover the best parts about a scene as I go!!!!!

[laventadorn]

i do have like 5k on a new chapter but it’s a huge mess sksjd

sort of like when you’re organizing your closet and in the middle stage it’s even worse than when you started

[barbreypilled]

*sighs loudly* new piss

[orcelito]

Ykno, I think this is my first ITNL reread since things got... really bad for me

I've gotten to the parts I was working on during All Of That, and it's kind of distracting... 10 through 13 especially was......... rough.

I'm always gonna be remembering what my life was when I read these chapters, huh? It's just never gonna go away.