#neutral memory

[enchanted-book]

i want to say i was 6 or 7. i was at church on a thursday evening, for some sort of meeting my mom was involved in.

bafflingly, the door to the sunday school room was unlocked.

so, a short story shorter, i broke into the craft supplies and poured a bottle of glitter on my scalp.

[hima-matta04]

Can I request hcs about what the homicipher boys would be like if you had a significant other who didn't treat you well in the human world?

Why yes of course 😘💍

Comfort After a Bad Memory

(characters mentioned: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood)

𝕄𝕣. ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘

He picked up on every little change in you. It started when he noticed how sometimes you would daze off. Lost in thought, you didnt even hear Mr. Crawling creeping his way towards you.

The gasp that left your throat as he suddenly placed his hand over yours, breaking your train of thought, confirmed his concern. “You sad.”

when you lowered your chin he tilted his head. “Why sad?” He lovingly placed his cheek on your knee.

He couldn’t quite understand what you were trying to say. The only words you knew to say were “they hurt me, make me sad. Been long time, still sad.”, he wrapped his arms around you, not knowing the concept of being mistreated in a relationship, but still supportive.

your eyes welled from tears of the past, but they were accompanied by a warm feeling. Mr. Crawling would never leave you alone and sad. “no sad anymore. Me make happy. Me like you. Me care you. No make sad.” He cheered innocent, not knowing even how someone could hurt such a beautiful creature like yourself.

𝕄𝕣. 𝕊𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒

He can practically read your mind. He studied you for so long, not only your physical appearance, but also your manners and body language.

he would 100% already know whats wrong when he first see the look in your eyes. Depending on the mood he’s in, he’ll either comfort you first, sweeping you into his arms and letting you cry into him, then find the person that hurt you, or vice-versa.

let’s say got you to give a detailed description of the heartbreaker. He would find himself in the human world, searching, lerking, stalking. Scarletella would eventually return litarally with blood on his hands. he would waste not a single second to lift you up and hold you sweetly with your arms and legs wrapped around him. His words were sweet as he reassured you that tou are worth more to him than any diamond or treasure that could ever be discovered.

his hands softly stroke your hair as you cry, hushing you softly and doing what you deserved in the first place. Loving you unconditionally without question.

𝕄𝕣. 𝕊𝕚𝕝𝕧𝕒𝕚𝕣

You’re his darling. And i firmly believe that he would 1000% call you that if you taught him.

you came to him, with teary eyes and your lip quivering. He rushed towards you, crouching to your height to get a good look at you. “What wrong?” He would ask as he uses his finger to wipe your tears.

He understands a little better than most. No time gets wasted on him lifting you up and setting you gently on a couch while he scavenges for something to cheer you up. He returns with something to eat that doesn’t exactly look edible, but it didnt taste half bad.

he holds you in his lap while you rant and ramble. Fingers gently brushing through your hair as he listens. The lights in the room are just dim enough for you to get sleepy. As you rest your head on his chest, he gently rubs your arm and wispers love affirming words to you.

this was the most perfect way to fall asleep.

𝕄𝕣. ℂ𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕕

He’s a personal, portable therapist for all of your problems. He could listen to you all day if you coyld speak for that long. Naturally, when you rushed to him for the daily ramble, he caught how your normal ranting turned a little quiet.

your mood was off when you began to speak of the pain you went through in a past relationship. He conforted you, telling you that you are amazing and worth way better than that trash.

Once you were reassured, he felt himself being hoisted into the air like a teddy bear. He enjoyed being there for you. Especially when you cradled him liks a support animal.

𝕄𝕣. 𝔾𝕒𝕡

It all started when you sunk back against the wall behind you, not noticing the hole that your ear was now right right to. That was until you heard that eerie, grating voice.

“want heart…you give?” You looked over and saw that stupid shit eating grin. At that point you let him have it.

yoy rambled on and on about every issue and thought that lingered on your mind, pouring your heart out to him. He said he wanted your heart but not like this!

his smile quickly faded once you said a few words that he could just barely understand, making him feel bad for you. He reached his hand out to place it on your shoulder, now invested in the story.

maybe he wasnt so annoying after all. He still wanted your actual heart though.

𝕄𝕣. ℍ𝕠𝕠𝕕

(idk why the ‘H’ looks like that wtf)

He finds you crying in a room all by yourself. When he rushes over towards you, his heart practically melts at your pitiful expression, quickly scooping you up in his arms and cradling you.

“you hurt? What wrong? Tell me.” He’s very worried about you, gently checking for injuries. A soft, relieved sigh leaves his mouth as you confirm no physical damage.

He’s very patient and caring while you try to explain what happened in his language, occasionally slipping up which he catches and gently corrects earning a displeased stare from your teary eyes each time.

He places sweet kisses on your face after drying your tears. At this point you’re all cried out and tired. He totes you around with him as you sleep gebtly in his protective arms before he places one last kiss on your forehead.

[i-cast-zone-of-truth]

Miles' view of Ivan is so cousinbrother warped it's not always easy to spot, but Ivan is like. Actually great! Does he whine? Does he often present as, let's say, a dumbass? Absolutely. Does he not also ALWAYS buckle down loyally when there's real trouble? Have the indignities of being Miles' cousin not rolled right off of his ego, leaving it neatly intact? I ask you: has he not perfected the art of minding his own goddamn business?

[randomly--accessed--memories]

I’m curious as to why this wasn’t discovered before now, but it feels like it belongs here

[xochimillilili]

Summer has finally arrived so reminder to keep your pets cool, refreshed and hydrated~

Either by tying it up and having it cockwarm an ice cube or two in it's pretty holes, by fucking them in a refreshing pool with an ice pop as a gag in it's mouth, or by telling them to sit and pissing into their eagerly drooling mouth as they swallow like the good little pet they are~

[littleoddwriter]

Trapped | Cooper Abbott x GenderNeutral!Reader | Dark Fic

Hi there! I'm incredibly down bad for him, to nobody's surprise, so here's the first fic I wrote for him. More to come! This fic isn't exactly romantic or even really sexual, albeit with some hints to it; but I used it to get a feel for writing him, first and foremost. And also because I saw somebody wanting a fic where Reader is in Lady Raven's position at the end of the movie, and I wanted that as well, so, here. It's not exactly what was imagined when demanding that, I know, but it's something! (also, excuse the uninspired title, please, it's very tongue-in-cheek, I know, dshjkfgsdkjs) summary; You're captured by the Butcher as his last chance of entertainment - and revenge - before his inevitable arrest or death. There, you learn a lot about him, and also yourself. notes/warnings; GenderNeutral!Reader; Reader is in Lady Raven's position (Reader is a pop star, etc.); slight spoilers for the movie (but I expect you to have seen that if you're reading this anyway); Character Study; Implied/Referenced (Attempted) Murders; Kidnapping; Angst; Implied/Referenced Sexual Attraction; Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse; Mostly Open End; Dark Fic. (once again, this is not a full on romantic or sexual fic about Cooper and Reader, but more of an exploration of the character, his dynamic with Reader, and Reader's own conflicting thoughts and feelings about the situation and Cooper. there are hints of romance and sexual attraction, though. this is a dark fic and it has a mostly open ending; but it does imply a bad ending if we're realistic. if you're like me, you could also find a way to imagine a better ending to it. that's why I left it somewhat ambiguous.)

The car’s passenger door was slammed shut on you, making you jump with the force behind it. A shaky breath left your trembling lips as you waited for Cooper to settle in the driver’s seat of his wife’s car. Soon to be ex-wife, you figured. If not a widow. 

Your mind was still reeling with the night’s events. One moment, you’d been giving your best for the concert, like you always did, and the next moment, you were stuck with a wanted serial killer because you decided to play hero. Desperately, you hoped it would all be worth it, in the end. Or else this might have been the stupidest decision you’ve ever made. You should have just alerted the FBI when you got the hunch that something was up with the man, you berated yourself internally. 

“Put these around your wrists,” the Butcher told you gruffly, holding up a pair of zip ties to you. 

Stunned, you just looked at him for a long moment, your mind trying to catch up with what he was asking of you. Everything has been happening too fast. Too much, all at once. And worst of all, you were terrified. Yet at the same time, you felt for him. He was a desperate man. Trapped. Cornered. In a way, you were his last resort now. How ironic.

Cooper gave you a stern look, his dishevelled hair covering parts of the upper half of his face, but the fierce glint of desperation and murder in his eyes shone through the brunette strands. 

“Put. These. Around. Your. Wrists,” he commanded again through clenched teeth, shoving the zip ties into your chest, as your hands automatically flew up to catch them.

Shakily, you nodded and put your hands through the loop. Once the zip ties were around your wrists, the Butcher pulled them tight, the thin hard plastic cutting into your skin, rubbing it raw with every small movement. 

As soon as he was certain that your hands were tied, Cooper started the car’s engine and quickly exited the garage and driveway. In the distance, you could hear police sirens on their way to the house you had just left behind. Too late. 

“If only you hadn’t decided to play hero,” Cooper mused with a strained, almost manic, smile on his lips, “None of this had to have happened, you know? I would have let you go.”

“And let you kill more innocent people? I couldn’t bear the guilt, knowing I could have prevented it,” you responded quietly.

“As if you actually care about random people’s lives more than your own. You’re just as fake as they all are. Pretending that you’ve got it all figured out, that you’re fulfilled.” He sounded bitter, angry, spitting those last words in your direction, like your existence has personally offended him. His grip around the steering wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white. 

Not wanting to anger him any further, you decided to stay quiet; even though you had a million things on your mind that you would have liked to retort. 

The FBI had briefed you on what kind of man they figured him to be. A psychological profile, they called it. You had heard about those on TV before, but it always seemed silly to you. How could they possibly know what was going on inside a person’s mind without having ever met them before? With all conclusions based on evidence from crime scenes instead? It didn’t make sense to you.

Until now, that was. Cooper seemed like the exact man the FBI had described to you. Perfect on the outside, an overachieving family man, unassuming, kind, always happy and ready to lend a hand. And beneath all of that, on the inside, there was a hurt child, craving their parents’ love and approval, but never getting it. Now, he let that anger that had manifested out on people he deemed to have had it all, to have what he was missing all his life. 

Deep down, you felt bad for him. If his parents had been different, perhaps there would be one less killer on the loose. Or perhaps, he would have ended up this way, no matter the circumstances of his upbringing. Who was to say that killers like him were only a product of abuse? 

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled into another driveway, getting out of the car. His footsteps were quick and heavy, and your heart was sinking in response to those sounds. 

Ripping the passenger door open, he leaned down to look at you, grabbed your bound wrists and jerked your body in his direction, forcing you out of your seat. Stumbling out of the car, you almost bumped into him, your head barely reaching his shoulder. He really was massive. You stood no chance against him, you thought, feeling defeated. This was it, then. 

Cooper bent over and quickly picked up the bag he had taken with him from the garage, before slamming the door shut once more. And just like he had done before, the Butcher put his fingers on your shoulder, verbally giving you directions for where he wanted you to go, while keeping a dominating presence behind you, not allowing you a real chance to escape.

Eventually, you found yourself in a basement, not unlike the one Spencer, who was hopefully safe now, had been stuck in before. 

The Butcher pushed you down to sit on the cold hard chair in the middle of the room, a support beam right behind it. He made quick work of putting the ice-cold steel chains and cuffs around your wrists and ankles, snapping off the zip ties at last. 

Looking up at him from where you were seated, the sinking feeling of hopelessness creeped in. There was no way you were getting out of this alive. 

Cooper retrieved a cleaver from his bag and pulled out another chair, placing it across from you and sitting down on it, playing with the knife in his hands. He looked at you for a long moment, not saying anything, just breathing calmly, idly stroking the knife’s handle with his thumb of the hand that was holding it. With his other hand, he brushed the loose strands of hair away from his face.

Once again, he was smiling at you. A smile that never reached his eyes, which glinted with murderous intent and something else that you couldn’t quite place. His smile was too big, too sharp, to be genuine. It seemed manic and desperate. Strained. And at the same time, he looked to be in complete control over the situation. 

Cooper Abbott was a man of many facades, you came to realise. 

“I was gonna stop, you know?” he finally spoke up, the tense silence broken by his voice that was laced with too many emotions at once, giving away that he didn’t feel as in control as he seemed to be. 

You waited for him to continue, not daring to ask questions.

“It’s been a while since I last felt the urge. Until you, tonight. I don’t know if it was because of everything that happened, or because I could see right through you… but it was an almost pleasant surprise to feel the urge again.

“Spencer was gonna be my last. That was the plan. Go to the concert with Riley, kill Spencer from the comfort of my home, sneak out hours later, making up some kind of lie of having to work an extra shift because of an emergency, chop him up, dispose of his body and any evidence, return home, and pretend like nothing had happened,” Cooper explained his initial plan for tonight like he was talking about something completely normal, like a family vacation he was planning instead. It was eerie, but somewhat intriguing to you. 

“And then, with time, I would have cleaned out all the houses I had bought to keep my two lives safely apart. I could have been a regular husband, father, and firefighter in just a couple of weeks, maybe months. And no one would have been any wiser on what I had done for all those years that the Butcher was active. It was the perfect plan,” he finished with a frustrated sigh, brushing his hair away from his face again with more force than was necessary. You could hear the steady, but sharp, tapping of his fingers against the cleaver’s wooden handle.

There was a long, tense moment of silence.

You almost felt the urge to apologise for ruining his plans.

“Why did you decide to stop?” you asked, unable to contain your genuine curiosity any longer.

Strangely enough, Cooper’s smile softened, his face relaxed and his eyes lost some of the fierceness in them. “Because I thought that I had finally done enough. The urge had lessened over the years, like I said, I didn’t feel it for a while until tonight. I was just doing it out of routine at this point, I think. Believe it or not, it was fun. And I wasn’t ready to give that up for a while.”

“What changed?” 

“I did… My children changed me. Riley and Logan are everything to me. And I was trying my hardest to be the dad they deserved to have. The one that they needed. A loving, fun, and especially involved, dad. I didn’t want them to feel like I did growing up,” Cooper explained in a wistful tone, “It all started out as just another way to keep suspicions away from me. Starting a family with Rachel seemed like the perfect cover. Nobody would ever suspect that a true family man could be a messed up serial killer, right?”

Despite your current situation, you felt your heart flutter. You understood where he was coming from, and you wished things had gone differently for him. But most of all, you wished that he wasn’t what he was.

“I didn’t expect to actually enjoy fatherhood, or to love my kids the way I do,” he continued after a short pause, still in that oddly wistful tone, a harsh contrast to the entire situation and his true being, “It’s so strange… With everything that happened tonight, I’m just enraged. But I’m less angry about having been found out at all. I’m mostly angry because I’m never going to see my children again.”

This time, you couldn’t resist the urge, and so you whispered, “I’m sorry,” like it was somehow your fault, when in reality, it was his decision to murder people in the first place.

Letting out a long sigh that ended in a small, insincere chuckle, Cooper got up from his chair, meat cleaver in his hand, towering over you like this inescapable force that he was to you. 

With practised ease, he took his shirt off and threw it over the chair behind himself. You had no idea why he would do that. Easier clean-up, maybe? With regret, you realised that you didn’t hate the sight. He was an attractive man, there was no question about that. But to feel such attraction, despite your current predicament, was nothing short of confusing and embarrassing to you. 

“You don’t have to do this, Cooper,” you whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“I wish that was true, but… there’s no escape. Not anymore. I might as well have fun one last time,” he told you quietly with that eerie smile that did nothing to hide his intentions. It only emphasised them now. 

Feeling your heart rate accelerate, your stomach sank with the realisation that this would be it for you. 

It only took two steps for him to stand right in front of and above your seated, captured, cowering form. Before you could utter another plea, Cooper’s free hand wrapped around your throat, almost covering the entire thing with his large palm as his fingers gripped onto your jaw, moving your head further back as he bent down, leaning into you.

A small noise escaped your throat, sounding both distressed and almost aroused. You had no control over that, and it felt utterly humiliating to have made such a sound in response to his actions. 

The Butcher chuckled darkly, a sharp smile playing on his lips, and a glint of intrigue in his eyes. 

“I think I’m gonna enjoy this a lot more than expected…” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath tickling your sensitive skin. 

“Please don’t…” you tried again, weakly, your voice strained from the weight of his hand against your windpipe. 

As you struggled to breathe, and his hand only tightened around your neck, your vision started to blur both due to panic and the lack of oxygen. Darkly, in the back of your fuzzy mind, you thought that at least you’d go out with a handsome face as the last thing you'd see. 

Faintly, in the far distance, you heard police sirens. Or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

“If only you had saved yourself…” the Butcher whispered to you before he quickly, and with impressive force, snapped your head back against the support beam behind you, and your world went dark.

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn into BG3: Chapter 7

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 7: To the goblin camp!

Word count: 2.1K

The next morning you’re exhausted and nauseated.  You aren’t sure how much blood Astarion took but it was enough to get Tav flitting around you, his mother duck feathers ruffled.  

It’s hard not to look at Astarion as you try to gauge the vampire’s attitude—does he want to tell the others?  After feeding on Tav the others just seemed to know in the morning once you start talking to him, so you’re at a loss for words stuck between wanting to tell the truth, and wanting to earn Astarion’s trust.

“Looks like you and Astarion had a late night last night,” Karlach interjects with a wide grin.  “Saw him slinking out of your tent in the wee morning hours.  Gotta say I’m a little jealous—of both of you I mean.  Getting to touch another person like that…”

Gale chokes on his water, sputtering and coughing behind you. 

“I don’t think that’s what they were doing, Karlach,” Shadowheart says.  “Unless it was before he took a bite.”

Karlach laughs.  “Isn’t biting part of the fun?”

“Biting?” Tav questions.

You lift your arm, expecting to see dried blood and two little holes in your wrist but it’s completely normal.  Even whatever blood hadn’t made it into Astarion’s mouth was nowhere to be seen.

Shadowheart reveals, “I healed the wound and cleaned up the blood.  Astarion didn’t want to be blamed for you bleeding out in the middle of the night.  Nor did I.”

“Thanks,” you respond, eyes still on your wrist.  If you didn’t feel like throwing up it’s like it never even happened.

Gale appears at your side.  “To each their own, I always say, but if it leads to such dire circumstances perhaps you should find yourself a more suitable partner.”

“For the love of—“ Astarion cries out.  “We didn’t have sex!  I fed—I’m a…I’m a vampire.”

That little admission didn’t sound intentional, but you’re glad to have the attention on him. 

He must have told Shadowheart because she’s the only one that isn’t displaying shock, confusion, curiosity, or disgust.  

“But you’re in the sun.”  Karlach is first to break the quiet.

There’s a discussion about what the parasite is capable of, resulting in Karlach complaining, “So you can walk in the sun but I still can’t touch anyone?  Seems unfair.”

Tav grabs you into a one-armed hug, nearly slamming you against his chest as he points his other hand at Astarion.  “You feed off me next time!  I have more blood, I can afford it.”

“Isn’t it better if he feeds on me?” you ask into the tieflings chest.  “Since I’m not going out and fighting off goblins and spiders?”

Your dream comes back to you—talking around the fire, learning magic with Gale…but you can’t decipher which is memory and which is the dream.  You focus on it, knowing that Tav had found the amethyst and was tossing it around like a toy only to be scolded by Gale.  But no book.  Maybe that was why you hadn’t felt anything from it in the dream—there was no memory to pull from.  You find yourself a little disappointed by the fact that Gale hadn’t offered to test your magic but quickly push away the feeling.

You push Tav away, too.  “Besides, I’m fine.  I’m not that important here anyway so if Astarion needs to feed on me now and again he’s welcome to.”

“Thank you, darling,” Astarion says, “but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

After that the group forces you to consume as much fruit as possible in a single sitting.  Soon enough your nausea isn’t from blood loss but overeating, and you’re shooing away the worriers—Tav, Gale, and Karlach. 

“Don’t you guys have somewhere to be?  Halsin is still out there.”  There’s a pang in your chest knowing he’s in the goblin camp.

“That’s true.”  Tav sighs.  “You should come with us.”

You pause, wondering if you looked healthier than you felt.  “…why?”

“It’ll be fun?  And when you lose blood it’s better to be out and about.”

“That doesn’t sound remotely right,” you reply.  Tav is kneeling beside you, eyes large and watery as they look into your own.  Can tieflings be half puppy?  You have to stop yourself from agreeing to his request on the spot.  “I don’t want to slow you guys down.  Or get one of you killed.  Or die.”

“We aren’t going to be fighting, they’re going to let us in.”

There’s too many variables and you’re forced to repeat, “Why?”

“We went back and got Sazza, the goblin you saved,” Tav explains.

“She was grateful enough to offer us an introduction to her tribe and leaders,” Gale says.  “I’m sure your presence will grease the wheels, so to speak.” 

You conceded, if only after Tav gave you another small health potion.

You set out with more party members than you thought you would—Tav, Karlach, Gale, and Astarion.  You hope Wyll would be enough of a buffer for Shadowheart and Lae’zel as they search the upper roads for signs of the githyanki.  It’s strange to see the camp split up, but it makes more sense than leaving people to sit around all day. Granted, you’d love to be sitting right now as you approach the bridge leading into the goblin camp.  It’s not just the fatigue, or the anxiety of being surrounded by goblins, but knowing what will happen when they cross the bridge.  When you cross the bridge.  And what it means if nothing happens. You hadn’t actually seen the device Shadowheart held and she wasn’t even here right now…

“It will be okay,” Gale says quietly.  You’d lagged back far enough for him to notice, and stay near you.  “You’ve seen just how charming our fearless leader is.”

You force your lips into a shaky smile and nod.  With Gale at your side you catch up to the others as they’re about to cross the bridge into the ruined shrine.  The spiky barricades aren’t nearly as threatening as what’s about to come. 

Tav sets one foot on the bridge, then Karlach, Astarion, Gale…you.  Your leader is halfway across when you briefly think you might be in the clear, until he falls to his knees.  He grunts in pain, holding his head as the others follow suit, all of them going down at the same time beneath the pressure of the Absolute.  

You flinch back and…nothing.  You’re fine.  You hear no voice, feel no pain in your body, other than what you had before, and watch while the others shiver and groan, listening to the Absolute's message about the chosen three.  You grip your staff as you watch with wide eyes, heart clenching, unable to help them or understand why you aren’t included.  But the tadpole in your head doesn’t stir, not even when the relic shoots out of Tav’s bag and saves them from the Absolute’s control.  It glows orange as it floats above Tav until he can grab it, releasing the group.

“What in the bloody Hells was that?” Astarion shouts.

They’re each breathing heavy as they stand, shaking their heads in hopes of clearing their minds.  

“I think that was the Absolute,” Gale suggests, “and her chosen.”

“Whatever it was, that thing protected us.”  Karlach’s eyes are in the Githyanki device in Tav’s hands.  He shifts it between his fingers but it doesn’t react, so he puts it back into the bag at his waist.

And nobody questions you.  Being the last one behind, they seem to assume you’d heard the voice and seen the vision, too.  You’ve never been so grateful to be an unimportant extra.

You try not to let your exhaustion show in front of the goblins.  Your body and mind both feel like there’s a heavy weight on them, pushing you towards the ground until your knees want to buckle.  You’re using the staff to help keep you upright, and blame everything on blood loss and anxiety.  

Thankfully Gale was right about Tav’s charisma and you get inside the temple with little trouble.  The trouble being dragging Tav away from chicken chasing.  They have a chicken, not an owlbear, and the only other human there is Volo so you’re not sure what route was taken yesterday.  Nobody had mentioned an owlbear, meaning they had skipped past the cave…or perhaps didn’t want to tell you about killing the cub.

Regardless, apparently chicken chasing is as fun for Tav as it is for the goblins, and you’re only able to get him away and into the temple by promising you’ll give it a try when you’re feeling better. 

Once inside and past the guards, you see Priestess Gut.  Her presence is more imposing than her stature suggests and there’s a crackling fear that runs through your body when her eyes fall on you.  Tav takes the lead, denying the branding after a quick meeting of the worms, and the Priestess invites him elsewhere. 

“Not that one, though,” she says, looking at you.  “That one’s not a True Soul, been abandoned by the Absolute.  They’ll stay locked up until we’re done.”

“Huh?”  It’s all you can think to say as two goblins with pikes and shields approach you.  They don’t get close enough to touch you before the others step to your aid, which puts the rest of the surrounding goblins on alert, drawing their own weapons.

“Not gonna happen,” Karlach announces.

“Put your weapons down while I’m bein’ nice,” Priestess Gut orders.  “I could just have you all killed on the spot but I’m feeling generous–you’ll all walk out of here fine but that one stays in the cage until we’re done.”

Tensions rise when she spits out the words “that one”, like you’re some gnat needing to be squished.  Your companions don’t lower their weapons, and neither do the goblins.  You know how this fight goes, you know it can be won when turns are taken but right now there are no turns.  No waiting.

“I’ll go!” you shout.  You hold your staff out to Gale, cursing the slight tremble in your hands and voice.  “It’s just for a bit.  I’ll wait for you guys in…prison.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Gale whispers.  He only takes your staff when you shake your head.

Karlach and Tav seem about to argue, fight even, before the goblins can react, but you shake your head at them as well.  I’ll be fine, you think.  You wish you understood how to use the tadpoles to send messages, but maybe it went through anyway because they all holster their weapons.  Even Astarion, whom you’d hadn’t realised was willing to fight on your behalf as well, returns his daggers to their holsters.

“Just uh, don’t be too long, okay?”  You try not to think about the people the goblins are cooking outside, or that the butcher is in the same place you’re about to go.  You don’t look back at anyone as you’re taken away, hoping you didn’t just sentence yourself to death.

And it did feel like a death sentence walking past all the goblins.  But it was a little exciting, too.  The heavy beat of your heart couldn’t decide if it was from dread or a morbid interest in the creatures that barely came to your waist.  While still in sight of your companions nobody said a word to you.  You think the entire journey is going to be silent when a goblin shouts, “Hold up, eh?”

You and the guards halt, turning to the source of the voice.  Sazza.  She eyes you, but she isn’t what you’re wary of right now.  Beside her floats the scrying eye.

When the game says looking at it is like falling into an inky black pool, it’s not wrong.  You waver a moment as the hairs on the back of your neck raise, the feeling of being watched coming over you.  But it’s a different kind of watch than the goblins, more predatory.  If that was possible.

“What d’ya want?” one escort says.

“This thing flew right over when it saw this one,” Sazza explains with a wave at you.  “Guess it likes ya.  I should probably say thanks by the way, for takin’ the arrow.”

She doesn’t actually thank you.  

The scrying eye spins around you, floating up and down as if taking stock of you, kind of like when Gale first came out of the portal.  Was it interested in your coat, too?  Soon enough it stays in front of your face, examining your features.  You don’t have an option menu before you, and with a waver in your voice you say, “Uh, hello?”

The eye vibrates, or shakes, or maybe it shivers.  

“S’weird,” Sazza says, watching the eye.  Nobody can disagree with that.

“C’mon,” your other escort says.  “Don’t care if that things watchin’, gotta get the prisoner downstairs.”

They begin to lead you towards the worg pens and the eye follows you.  The only reason it leaves your side it when the door to the pens slams shut before it can get inside.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt @pebble-bb @v3lv3tvampir3 @mrow-kat @jeneralmischief @notsaelty @runaway-17 @aoirohi

[oshaskell]

Dozing noblewoman and her strange young friend.

[l48yr1nth]

nuMBER three Three THREE! infected. bro is sick and sleepy he needs to be AT HOME in BED and HAVING SOME SOUP. ofcourse ofcourse, requested by my brother-in-spirit @timefixerz

[essencering]

↳ summary: random thoughts about how the boys might have reacted to you just vanishing due to the events of NB & how it affected the pacts with each of them.

↳ Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Mammon (Obey Me!), Leviathan (Obey Me!), Lucifer (Obey Me!), Satan (Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Obey Me!), Beezelbub (Obey Me!), Belphegor (Obey Me!), Nightbringer Setting, SFW, Headcanons.

writer's blurp: let's all get onto the train of wild shit happening with MC being away from the boys they know once again and how their handling it. hopefully, it won't be a timeline wipe lol

↳ Lucifer

◆ despite everything that makes lucifer what he is, it means little in the grand scheme. both power and pride are useless in the wake of your sudden disappearance. ◇ his fuse seemed short, but now it feels even shorter. horribly, and painfully shorter, but despite that, he is taking more care to check on his brothers if he is acting like this then he can only imagine how his brothers are handling it. ◆ it won't stop. he can't stop the pain of his pact mark. as if it had been ripped clean off your person like a band-aid. it hurts like it should, the painful reminder of your existence, and your warmth are gone for the moment. he waits for you, for someone who may never walk through those doors again, but he waits.

↳ Mammon

◆ the first to feel it and the one who hurts the most. the one who grabs at himself where the placement of his pact mark is on your person just trying to feel something in the sudden wake of the void left behind. ◇ if he isn't out looking for you then mammon can be found in your room either curled up in your bed d.d.d in hand while he tries to contact you somehow. ◆ it hurts. horribly, painfully and mammon wails. the void that digs into his being and grows a little bigger with each day, he cannot find you. with each empty brush of your bond that isn't answered back is soul-crushing. each day is another call he makes to hear your voice, each day he asks, voice broken where are you?

↳ Leviathan

◆ the burning pain was enough to wake him up. leviathan couldn't breathe, and he couldn't think. so he panicked, grabbing his d.d.d and calling the first person on his list while he tried to calm himself down. ◇ leviathan couldn't tell who it was who did come in to help him, but when they did he just clings to them. comfort, warmth, family, here and alive. all the things he couldn't feel from you. whoever came held him even tighter while he blubbered from too many emotions and fear. ◆ when it gets to be too much the loss of the pact mark and just feeling you just brush back when he needed it the most. it seeps into his bones, leviathan feels cold and lost like he's somehow fallen once again. he does what helps him feel the safest-- hides away.

↳ Satan

◆ it almost feels like he is being skinned alive, with how you are torn away from him. with the pact missing, you're no longer just a touch away to be felt-- he feels wrath like he hasn't since he was born. ◇ his wrath is quiet, it is carefully moving beneath his skin. satan sees how each of his brothers slowly one by one seeks out one another. your loss is felt by each one of them, a void that none of them can feel you through. ◆ some days are harder than others, and satan feels the small spot inside of him that held you so close to his heart just-- close itself off to not feel hurt, but sometimes when he swears that he could feel the tug of you calling for him.

↳ Asmodeus

◆ watching the mirror break right before him, followed by how his soul feels as if it's being torn apart. the pact he shares with you feels so, so faint he fears the worst. ◇ the worst being that you died. alone, away from him, away from everyone who loves you, but-- he can sometimes feel your warmth when he reaches out. ◆ as comforting as that should be faint warmth and whispers of you still being alive are cold comfort. even if he can just barely feel you... he wouldn't be able to help you wherever you may be.

↳ Beelzebub

◆ beelzebub drops everything and moves. transformed, and in pain, he runs home, he looks, and he looks, but he cannot find you. his whole self hurts, his heart most of all. another, another person he loves is-- no. no just because he couldn't feel you didn't mean that you were dead. ◇ the world around him seems to move so slowly, but he eventually stumbles to the planetarium to find belphegor curled in on himself, and the moment belphie says that he can't feel you. that you're just... gone beelzebub breaks down with him. ◆ beelzebub can't sleep, but belphie tries to help him. nothing tastes right, nothing looks right when he eats and his brothers worry even more. nobody knows what's going on-- nobody can find you and beelzebub blames himself for not being able to keep you safe. his brothers say differently they all failed, but... none of them has failed to keep a loved one safe as he had.

↳ Belphegor

◆ belphegor wishes that he was asleep when he felt it because it would have hurt less in a dream (or so he thinks). to be awake, to be gazing at the stars to watch one suddenly blink out of existence followed by pain-- it was excruciating. ◇ just like the star, you had vanished, taking a piece of belphegor with you. and when beel stumbles into belphegor's sight... he crumbles. the two of them breaking down together. ◆ even when belphegor sleeps he doesn't feel at peace, but some nights... he can see you or he thinks he might. the dreams are always fuzzy, but in those dreams, it feels like you're right there with him. that somehow you're safe even if none of them can find you, much less feel the bond each pact has made with you.

[interstellarsystem]

Sometimes, getting a new headmate is suddenly noticing they're there and greeting them.

And sometimes, getting a new headmate is being thrown into the front and existence itself, only to be put in front of the dishes your previous fronter was planning on doing.

[enchanted-book]

i was visiting some cousins of mine that lived way far back in the woods. i was a toddler, and they were about 6 or 7. i really wanted to go swim in the kiddie pool, but i wasn't allowed to, because my shoes were dirty, and i would get dirt in the pool. i didn't understand why i wasn't allowed in the pool, because i was wearing swimming shoes. i also adamantly refused to take my shoes off so that i could swim.

the biggest thing i remember from that moment, was just go blindingly bright it was. even though it was in the woods, the sun was shining straight down on us, light bouncing off of the bright white dirt and water and neon blue of the kiddie pool. my eyes being nearly shut probably added another level to my confusion LOL

[storm-ismyusername]

Overlord Niffty!!! Inspired by @redladydeath’s wonderful (and incredibly dark) RAM AU! ( @randomly--accessed--memories) As soon as they mentioned making an Overlord Niffty design I had to make my own as well. Like Velvette I’d imagine Niffty would wear multiple outfits. The rest are down below!:

[randomly--accessed--memories]

did some height comparison stuff because i was curious about vox and niffty's height difference and then got carried away

[premamelody]

garden, where memories are

context

[thattheater-kid]

A friendly reminder for literally everyone, including systems and including the rest of this system

In general, systems do not control what introjects show up.

I have been actively attacked by singlets, systems, and other parts within my own system for being a South Park fictive. The most hurtful things I’ve heard are from other parts within the system. I’ve been called a mistake, I’ve been told I wasn’t supposed to exist by members of my own system. The system has been judged by others for my existence. They don’t even watch South Park that much, they just watch it when our brother puts it on. Even if they did, that’s not a reason to attack me or them for my existence.

No one could control who I am. Certainly I couldn’t. I didn’t want this. Do you know how hurtful it is to be called a mistake and told you don’t deserve to live to your face? Actually, I’m sure many of you do. Many of you have been hurt like that, so maybe don’t do the same thing to introjects from problematic sources. Nobody wanted this. Nobody chose this. It’s not fair to judge and hate for it.

-Kenny