#even better if I was floating in a void

[woodlands-nd]

I think I need to lay on a bed and make movements like I'm being exorcised or something like that

[blujayonthewing]

here's hoping I can continue to improve getting back in touch with reality and the flow of time in the coming year

[jupitercl0uds]

if money and social norms didnt exist id dress like a monster high doll one day and then the next day dress like a lumberjack and id be wearing animal/elf ears on both days

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Urged

I think this was the photo that got me in. Of course I get the appeal now. But at the time I thought I was just messaging some other random torso on the apps. I was supposed to just be in and out, no strings attached. After all, he wasn’t my usual type. Looked like a roided out gym rat: bit of a gut; dark, wiry hair; and thick muscles. But muscles weren’t the thickest thing about him, and who was I to pass up a good time?

So I went over to his place. I wasn’t surprised when it was a loft above a small gym. Seemed like the ideal spot for the kind of guy. What I was not expecting was the apartment itself to be so…nice? Normal? I was prepared to get fucked on a twin-sized mattress on the floor, no frame, with sweaty clothes rotting around me. But the apartment had some character. He even offered me something to drink before we got started, in an actual glass. Maybe I needed to raise my standards. We chatted, flirted a bit as I finished my water and let things get hot from there. We kissed in the kitchen, made out in the living room, and worked our way back to his bedroom as sweatshirts, belts, shirts, pants, and straps trailed behind us.

As I positioned a pillow under myself, he took off his wife beater, the last barrier between us. The shirtless torso that seduced me was on full display as I rubbed his chest. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt engulfed by this bear of a man, skin electric where I felt his hair ticking my bare chest. My senses felt heightened as I tasted cheap beer on his breath and smelled a deep musk of sweat, cum, and Old Spice, more in line with what I had expected from him. He ran his calloused hands over my chest and abs before finally taking up position over my trembling body. I wanted him in a way I hadn’t felt since I was a teen. Normally I would want to talk a bit more, at least give a safe word. But as he surrounded me and I felt his presence, my brain flipped a switch as my body instinctively relaxed for him. There were no thoughts to be had as my mind was consumed by his rich scent, the pleasure of his cock slowly stretching out my ass, and his intense gaze set on my fluttering eyes. At last I felt his bush pressed against my clenching ass. He lingered for just a moment, every throb of his member sending shivers through my body. He leaned in and whispered, “You feeling good, baby?”

I could only moan a bit in response. Feeling his weight bear down on me and his cock in my ass left no room for words. He shoved his pit in my face and I instinctively took a deep huff. Any resistance and tension left in my body released. I felt filled by him, just a vessel for his use. I was about to stick out my tongue when he pulled back and repositioned himself. He held my shoulders as he began moving his hips.

As he slowly began to fuck me, I felt him reach new depths within myself.

“There you go, much better. Let yourself just float”

I couldn’t resist him even if I wanted to. His cock methodically jackhammering my hole had my body riding wave after wave of pleasure. Then, I felt him tense up a bit as his cock swelled just a bit more telling me what was to come. He buried it deep as a pressure built within myself. A few more thrust from him and I shot my load over his furry chest. My mind could no longer handle it. I slipped off into a void of pure bliss, as this stranger collapsed on top of me, feeling his damp fur against my body and filling my senses once again with his musk.

I woke up the next day back in my own bedroom. No one else around. No signs of trouble. No clue how I got back. If the whole experience hadn’t been so vivid, I would have thought I dreamt the whole thing. But as I rolled myself out of bed and into the bathroom, one change became very clear.

Seemingly overnight I had lost my smooth skin and dirty blonde curls. In its place was hair. Thick, dark, course hair. It covered my chest, my arms, my back, even my crotch. I was shocked but, also, something else began to tickle at my brain. I took off my tank to get a better look at the forest. I flexed my muscles and admired the way it coated my chest and seemed to exaggerate its size. I hit a double bicep pose and smelled a familiar scent. The scent of sweat and heat and masculinity. My mind flooded with images of that night as my cock stood at attention. I shoved my face into my own pit as I bagan jacking off in front of the mirror, admiring my new body. It felt strange but satisfying, watching this stranger in the mirror mimic my every move as I lusted for him. I didn’t realize how far I had gone until I saw the stream hitting the mirror. It was hot, but something still didn’t feel right. As I cleaned up the restroom, I picked up my razor and considered cleaning myself up a bit. But as I lifted it to my face, I noticed my newly hairy pits. Exposing them, the scent of last night invaded my mind again and I couldn’t follow through. I finished getting dressed and I left for the day. With a busy schedule, maybe I could get some answers tomorrow. I think that was the last chance I had to do something, divert from the path laid out for me. But looking back, I don’t know if I would have changed a thing.

No day was as sharp a change as the first, but each morning as I looked myself in the mirror, something was a bit different. Maybe it was the sharpness of my jaw. Or were my pecs always this swoll? One week I swore my feet were growing larger. There is no way that they always slapped the ground like that. But my shoes always fit perfectly. Heck I may even need a new pair soon. My joggers were beat up as hell and reeked when I took them off after my Saturday runs. But soon it was the days that I couldn’t find anything that looked different that began to worry me most. Had I always thought so much about the bodies of the men around me? Did people always talk so fast? But as life slipped back into routine. Soon I began to question myself. Why had I worried so much about any changes? Things never actually seemed out of place, and I worked out hard to get these gains. I had been going to the gym for years and had spent years perfecting my splits. After about two months, I stopped worrying at all. Until finally, one day I woke up and looked myself in the mirror, I saw the same man who greeted me for years.

I was a sweaty gym rat. Always had been. Always would be. I took a deep huff of my own funk, and rubbed my muscles. But everything fell into place, something felt missing. I shouldn’t have to keep this godly body and musk to myself. For the first time in a while, I hopped onto the apps and started scanning through. God, all these old matches were terrible. Why did I used to have such a thing for those muscled-up college boys? They couldn’t grow a beard if their lives depended on it. Besides, I think I wanted someone a little more…submissive. Scrolling through, my eyes caught on this young 20-something twink. Something about him reminded me of someone…someone I used to know. His lithe body, tight curls, and skimpy clothes told me he was a bottom before I clicked on his profile. A few messages back and forth, and he was on his way.

He walked in the door and it was all I could do to contain myself. Something deep within me wanted my seed deep in his ass. I needed him to worship me. I wanted him to become just like me. I had no patience as my body acted on instinct. I stripped my shirt and calmly approached, placing my hand against the wall behind him. As my masculinity and musk washed over the twink, I watched as his eyes fluttered a bit and knew his mind was submitting.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked plainly.

“Ye-yes, sir.”

I grinned as I understood fully now just what had happened to me, and the power I held. But watching this twink practically trembling in front of me, maybe I was even better than my captor had been.

I gave him a quick kiss as I lead him to my bedroom. I couldn’t wait to make another man in my image.

[evilminji]

You know what I think would be neat?

Loki, the Sky Walker himself, when he fell beyond the trees branches but before that Purple fucker could get him... felt A path, much like the hidden ones he'd wandered for YEARS, and franticly tries to catch himself.

After all, he let go in a moment of incredible emotional distress. But that moment passes. The fear kicks in. The natural, strategist's, "survival at all costs" primal drive starts SCREAMING. You grab for the ledge. Try to STOP your fall.

But~!

What if? What he was FEELING?

Was a Natural Fuckin Portal.

And Loki is no slouch! He manages to change his trajectory. His mind is still in shambles, he's an emotional wreck, mascara probably running, just? Having THE WORST month or so of his life. He's too pretty for this bullshit, he would insist, if he wasn't FALLING THROUGH THE VOID.

He's made some choices.

They may have been ill advised.

Possibly even terrible ideas, actually.

But he's come too far to die NOW. And if his brother's insane adventures and hare brained schemes haven't killed him, then THIS sure as shit won't be putting him in an graves. He refuses to allow it.

He expects to slam face first into alien dirt. At speed. It? Is going to HURT, he knows.

But that is not what happens.

He passes through a yawning portal, into Veridian skys, and slams face first into the back of passing youth. Knock BOTH of them from the sky and through several nearby floating islands.

He nearly gets punched for it.

The boy only stopping, fist merely moments from his faces, when he seems to finally register the state Loki is in. The next thing Loki knows? He's being rushed off Yeti healers. A FUSS is being made.

The youth is strong arming him into being a guest in his... frankly ALARMING home.

Loki likes the Gothic one. She seems like she bites. But the boy's parents BAFFLE him. The boy, "Danny" just? Showed up with him? And declared he was a "visiting Fenton Cousin"? SURELY that can not WORK! Boy, they are your PARENTS, they know better then YOU who is and is not rela-.....

How did that work.

No, HOW DID THAT WORK? Child answer me. And explain the violent cold meats.

Just? Loki, intellectually stimulated, like a cat in a fresh new environment. Removed from stressors. Not the strongest being around by far, but enjoying the challenge none the less. Fulfilling his life long trained role of "king's advisory" in an almost relaxed Highly Sarcastic Uncle On Vacation Who Is Also A Semi-Feral Cat sorta way to this new Child King he found.

Loved and respected for Being Loki. Just Loki. No preconceived notions to fulfill, no roles he must play, just... Be Loki.

Best part? Asgard and Thor and such? Irrelevant! Their own closed system far, far away. He's finally FREE of the shadow Asgard casts. He's taken "starting over in a new country to escape a toxic home life" to a whole new weight class unique just to him. The dude is THRIVING.

And? I bet he REALLY enjoys tormenting Vlad.

@ailithnight @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @nerdpoe

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad.  You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…” 

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?” 

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'. 

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

[shockmastervoidstate]

The pre-void state vs the real void state — differences, how to enter the real void state and my experience yesterday

Hey, void explorers, there are a couple of things I want to talk about regarding the void state.

Pre-void state vs the real void state — key differences

When you attempt to achieve the void state or shift realities, you might experience typical symptoms which could be confused with the void state.

These include: feelings of rotating, floating, flying or falling through empty space, often while seeing stars and galaxies or other lights and often while hearing buzzing sounds, wind noises, voices, music or other sounds.

Shifters and void explorers used to falsely believe that this is the void state, but it's not. If you experience the symptoms above, you are close and "get a taste" of the void, but you aren't there yet.

There is no failure and no randomness in the void state. If you shift from the void, you are guaranteed to end up exactly in the reality you want to be in.

In the void, there is also no movement and nothing to hear or see — unless you intend(ed) to manifest these things in the void.

It's also impossible to shift back to the CR involuntarily, because when you are in the void, you achieved a complete detachment and separation from your CR and your CR body.

The same cannot be said about the pre-void state. In this state, you haven't fully detached/separated from your CR yet.

You can manifest and shift from the pre-void state, but success isn't guaranteed.

In fact, when I shift from the pre-void state, I usually end up in random realities and can only stay there for a couple of minutes to a couple of hours.

How to enter the real void state from the pre-void state

Use any of the community's methods or your own method to shift or enter the void state.

If you end up in the pre-void state, here's how to enter the real void state. This information is from successful shifters on amino, reddit and Tumblr.

When you are in the pre-void state, keep doing your method and ignore the symptoms. (If your method is no longer relevant, repeat affirmations like "I am in the void state" or or simply "I am")

Ignore the floating, the sounds, the sights, the sensations. Don't react to anything.

Instead, keep going until you are in the real void. Try not to get excited. This will be easy once you've experienced the pre-void many times.

You can try to shift to your DR from the pre-void state, but as I explained, success from shifting from the pre-void isn't guaranteed.

My experience yesterday

Enough of the lecturing, it's story time. I practiced what I preached yesterday.

Yesterday evening, before going to bed, I relaxed and repeated affirmations like "I can enter the void state", "entering the void state is easy" etc.

Did this for one and a half hour and got rewarded for my efforts the following day.

When I went to sleep, I just repeated the affirmation "I am" over and over again until I fell asleep.

I had a random dream and at a random point, I fell through the floor, became conscious of myself and experienced the pre-void state.

Had all the symptoms I talked about. I felt like flying through a black space and saw a white galaxy like the Milky Way ahead.

Kept repeating "I am".

...

Despite my best efforts, I woke up in the CR.

It was still a nice experience. I feel refreshed, because even the pre-void state is therapeutic thanks to the freedom and limitlessness it allows you to experience for a very brief moment.

I'm taking a break today and will attempt to achieve the void state tomorrow. I did a good job of ignoring very invasive distractions I encountered in the pre-void, including voices. Next time, I will do even better.

-shockmaster

[millenianthemums]

Cross-posting the first chapter of the Bill & Mabel Friendship AU fic from Ao3 to tumblr! I thought it would be fun to do some chapter art for it. Find the fic on Ao3 here!

————————-

Bill Cipher woke up in darkness.

That was what he thought at first, anyway. Darkness. Pitch black, impenetrable darkness, but nothing that worried him. Just a simple thought and he could light up his surroundings.

He tried. Nothing happened.

That didn’t mean anything, he thought, pushing down a momentary surge of panic. He just needed to focus. He could concentrate better if he snapped his fingers.

He tried. That didn’t work either. He couldn’t snap his fingers. Why couldn’t he snap his fingers? Where were his fingers? Where were his hands?

The panic surged forth again. He tried to relax, but a thousand questions were piling up in his mind. Where was he right now? How did he get here? Why couldn’t he tell where his hands were? It was dark, sure, but he couldn’t even feel them. He couldn’t feel anything . He tried to send his vision outward, reaching his mind out to feel around for a depiction of himself to look through. A better vantage point would help him orient himself. It could be anything. A bit of graffiti scrawled on a dumpster would be enough. Anything that would let him see something other than darkness.

He couldn’t find anything. Why couldn’t he find anything? There were always options, billions of options, billions of little eyes scattered across billions of worlds like uncountable spy drones. Almost too many to choose from, that was the only problem. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sought one out and not found one. He kept trying to push his mind further, to try and push through the darkness, but it seemed like it went on forever. He thought he was gasping for breath from the effort, he must have been, but he couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t feel himself breathing. He tried calling out. He couldn’t hear his own voice.

The panic overflowed. What was happening to him? What was this place? How did he even get here?! He tried to wrangle his unraveling mind enough to mentally retrace his steps. The last thing he remembered, he’d been in the Fearamid. He’d been celebrating. All his millenia of work had finally begun to pay off, countless eons spent watching and waiting and carefully prodding at history were about to come to fruition. Weirdmaggedon was finally here. At long last he was about to complete his life’s work, to complete the universe, to finally have everything he’d always deserved. He just needed one equation to collapse the barrier between him and reality. Ford was just about to hand it over when–

Ford.

It all came flooding back. It was Ford. Or, no, it wasn’t Ford, it was a trick . He and his brother had tricked him, trapped him in the wrong mind, and he’d been too caught up in the fervor of victory to realize it until it was too late. Until the jaws of the trap had slammed shut behind him, cutting off his exit, no escape, no way to backtrack, nowhere to run from the flames closing in, from Stanley towering over him, and then…

And then.

His mind scattered as horror tore through it. Was this death? Was this his afterlife? Was this how he’d spend the rest of eternity, an orphaned mind cut off from all senses, floating in the void? Trapped alone with his thoughts forever? He tried to call out again, to scream for help. There had to be somebody somewhere who could hear him. Somebody who could end this. He couldn’t stay like this. Torture would be better than this. If this universe really wanted to punish him so badly, it could set him on fire, or tear him apart into atoms, or pluck all his organs out one by one every day for eternity. Anything. Anything but this. Anything but nothing, forever.

Eventually, Bill accepted that trying to scream wasn’t working. He couldn’t even feel his own throat to know if the sound was escaping. And even if he was really screaming, who would answer? Who would listen? The Henchmaniacs had probably all split as soon as they saw the party was over. None of them were exactly “ride or die” types. They stuck around while the music was playing, but he knew they’d never stay late to pick up the solo cups all over the house. It had never been a problem before. He’d always been able to keep the music playing, keep stringing them along with promised glory and well-placed threats. But now? Forget it. They were all long gone by now.

And who else was there? Was there any other living creature left out there in the multiverse who knew who he was and didn’t have it out for him? His one last hail mary seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. There was no sign of anybody. No sign that anyone cared at all.

He was glad, for just a moment, that he couldn’t feel his face. He didn’t want to know if he was crying. He never gave himself time for self-pity if he had any choice. But now the only thing he had left was time. All the time he could ever need to torture himself with.

All he’d wanted to do was fix things. To make everything better. To make everyone see that without all their stupid rules, everything could be better than they’d ever let themselves imagine. He could have shown them. He’d tried to show them. That was all he’d wanted to do. And this was the thanks he got for it?!

It could have been any amount of time that he spent in that place, stewing in rage and despair. It could have been days or weeks or maybe years, it really didn’t matter. All that mattered was that eventually, he ran out of energy. He gave up trying to scream loud enough to reach his own ears. He just focused on slowing his mind to a crawl. Stopping his thoughts. Trying to just fade away into the darkness, waiting to see if maybe someday something would happen.

Nothing happened for a very long time.

But eventually something did.

The first thing he noticed was a sound. Soft and gentle, reverberating through the void. Bill snapped to awareness, his mind spinning wildly as he tried to remember how to think. He’d heard something. He’d heard something. Someone else was here.

“WHO’S THERE?!” He winced at the sound of his own voice. He almost didn’t even recognize it; it was strained and ragged, on the verge of giving out completely. He didn’t care. He could hear it. That was what mattered right now.

The sound returned, and this time he caught what it said. A voice, speaking a single word. “Bill.”

“WHO IS THAT?! WHERE ARE YOU?!?” he roared, desperately scanning the void in front of him.

“Bill! Stop screaming. I’m right next to you.”

With a start, Bill realized the voice was directly behind him. He found that he could move again, turned around, and was instantly flashbanged by a searing ray of pink light. Floating before him was a massive pale creature, all soft rounded angles, with a long finned tail and a remarkably stupid-looking face.

Bill would recognize them anywhere. He let out a hoarse laugh. “DECIDED TO SHOW UP AFTER ALL, HUH? YOU SURE TOOK YOUR SWEET TIME! WHAT, YOU GET HELD UP IN TRAFFIC WHILE I WAS STUCK ROTTING IN HERE?!”

“I was waiting for you to calm down,” the Axolotl said.

Bill’s eye bulged. “YOU WERE– YOU COULD HEAR ME?!? YOU MEAN THIS WHOLE TIME YOU WERE– YOU COULD’VE– AND YOU JUST–?!?” His dumbfounded stuttering slowly turned to broiling rage. “YOU– DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I JUST WENT THROUGH?! YOU WERE JUST FLOATING THERE WATCHING ME WHILE I WENT THROUGH THE TENTH CIRCLE OF HELL RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU?! IS THAT HOW YOU GET YOUR SICK KICKS?!? BECAUSE I CAN DO YOU ONE BETTER IF YOU WANNA SWITCH THE ROLES AROUND, YOU MISERABLE PINK–” his voice cut out halfway through the insult. He grabbed at his face and found it was numb.

“I can come back later if you’re not ready yet.” The Axolotl’s voice was completely flat.

“WHAT–? NO!!! NO NO NO WAIT!!!!!” Bill threw his arms out desperately, trying to grab for them. He didn’t get anywhere close, but they stopped in their tracks anyway, looking back at him.

“I– I’M FINE. I’M CALM. SEE?” He kept his arms raised in surrender to demonstrate. “I’M CALM, I SWEAR. JUST… DON’T LEAVE ME IN HERE AGAIN.”

The Axolotl stared at him with their blank, dopey expression. He kept as still and quiet as he possibly could.

“Alright,” they finally said. “If you’re ready, we can discuss the terms of our contract.”

“YES. TERMS. CONTRACT. I’M READY.” Bill forced himself to sound calm and collected and not at all like he wanted to crush his conversation partner’s big stupid pink head in his clawed hand. The instant their deal was made and he was alive again, this damn amphibian was getting an all-expenses-paid one-way trip to a snow globe full of acid.

“I've had time to think things over," they said. "There is a certain protocol I usually follow here, but these past few months watching you in here have made me think it might not work well for you. So here's how we'll do this. I will grant you a return to life…”

“YES! FANTASTIC. LET’S GET GOING ON THAT, HUH?”

“...but I have some terms that you’ll need to agree to first.”

Bill sighed. He suspected this was coming. No such thing as a free lunch. “LAY ‘EM ON ME.”

“I will return you to life. I will return your body to its original state, exactly as it was when you last had it; no more, no less. All I ask is the promise of one favor in return.”

It wasn’t like he had a choice, but he didn’t risk complaining. “WHICH IS?”

The Axolotl stared placidly. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Bill stared back. “SO… WHAT. IT COULD BE ANYTHING? JUST WHATEVER YOU FEEL LIKE?”

“It won’t endanger your life,” the Axolotl said. “And you will be capable of doing it. But beyond that… yes.”

Bill laughed humorlessly. “THIS IS A BIT, RIGHT? THIS IS A JOKE?”

“No, Bill.”

“SO YOU’RE ACTUALLY MAKING ME SIGN A BLANK CHECK HERE. UNDER THREAT OF DEATH.”

“I’m not threatening death.” A hint of annoyance breached the Axolotl’s calm demeanor. “I’m offering you life. A way out of this mess you’ve made. And those are my terms.”

“THE MESS I’VE… ?! YOU’RE PINNING ALL THIS ON ME?!?” Bill exploded. “THIS HAPPENED TO ME! I GOT STABBED IN THE BACK AND MURDERED!! AND I’M STILL WAITING TO HEAR THESE ‘TERMS’, BUD! YOU DON’T GET TO JUST HAND ME A BLANK CONTRACT AND FILL IT OUT LATER, THAT’S NOT FAIR !!”

The Axolotl’s dot eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Of course. ‘Fair’. Just like all the famously clear, mutually beneficial, deeply ‘fair’ deals you’ve made.”

Bill clammed up. He couldn’t go off like this. If the Axolotl decided they were fed up, he knew they wouldn’t stick around. And they might not come back. He had no other choice but to listen to their brain-dead, moralistic lectures and nod his head like he agreed. So, reluctantly, he did.

“I’m offering you one last chance,” the Axolotl continued. “A return to your original, physical body. A chance to start over and make things right. All I ask is one small favor in the future, when I return. If that’s not fair enough for you, I’m happy to leave.”

Bill dragged his hands down his face. If he said what he was really thinking, there was no way he’d ever get out of here. There was no sense dragging this out any longer. He didn’t want to listen to this smug bastard prattle on for one more second. There would be time for revenge later; right now he just wanted out of this place.

He extended a hand. “FINE. DEAL.”

The Axolotl grasped Bill’s hand in a massive pink paw. As the void around them began to fade from black to gray, a thought that had been gnawing at the back of his mind suddenly surfaced. When they’d laid out their deal, the Axolotl had been worryingly specific on one particular detail. “Your original, physical body… no more, no less…”

“HOLD ON,” he said. “WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY–”

“Time to wake up, Bill.”

His vision turned white.

[happy74827]

Emptiness Renewed

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You figured all your concerns would go away now that you had the assurance with Mike, but the truth was… they weren’t disappearing. Not until you won and healed the relationship of your old friend, who happened to be his sister. {GIF credits: @owenhcrper}

WC: 2,733

Category: Lime/Steamy, Comfort, Slight Fluff

A lot of you wanted a sequel to “Fill the Void,” so here it is! You don’t have to read the first part, this can be read as a stand-alone, but if you want you can find the first part here

『••✎••』

Your hands found Mike’s waist and held on tight. His mouth was on yours, soft and sweet, his hand at the nape of your neck holding you in place as he kissed you over and over. He was all you could see, taste, and smell, and your whole body tingled with how good it felt. You were lost in the kiss, his mouth making promises of what was to come, and the warmth in your belly was growing.

When he pulled back you were dazed and breathless, and you blinked slowly at him.

He gave you a crooked smile, a rare thing that always made you melt, and his hand slipped down to cup your jaw. "I missed you."

You were still floating, your whole being focused on his hand at your cheek and his lips that you were missing already.

"I missed you too," you managed, and you saw the smile in his eyes before his mouth covered yours again.

He tasted like sweat and coffee, but the way his tongue slipped between your lips, hot and eager, made your whole body sing. Your arms slid up and around his neck, and his fingers tangled in your hair.

The kiss went on and on, the two of you breathing each other in, his arms tightening around you until he was pulling you closer. His skin was damp against your shirt, and his sweaty hair brushed against your face, but you didn’t care. You were lost in Mike's kisses and the way he made you feel, and if he wanted to keep kissing you like this all day, you would let him.

It was hard to believe you had been kissing for five minutes. It felt like hours, like years. The feeling of him pressing you back against the bed as he kissed you, the way your pulse pounded as his mouth explored your throat, his warm body covering yours and his hands exploring your body, made time slip away. It felt like nothing else mattered.

Mike was everything you thought about for weeks, and he was there with you, all yours. You hadn't even managed to get your shoes off yet and you didn't care. You were wearing clothes you didn't even like, but that seemed insignificant compared to what you had in your arms. You didn't want to think about anything else.

Your hands slid under the sweaty shirt clinging to his back, feeling the warm, smooth skin over his back and his muscles flexing under your fingers. His hips rolled against you and your eyes closed at how good it felt. His mouth found yours again, his kiss hard and fast, his tongue dipping inside your mouth. His hands slid under your shirt, fingertips brushing over your skin, making your skin burn.

“Did you have that talk with Abby?” You whispered against his lips, your hands stopping to rest on his shoulders. You knew this wasn't the right time to ask, but it had been bothering you ever since that day in his room.

Mike's eyes flickered open, his dark gaze focused on your face. His hands slid up to cup your cheeks. "It's not really a talk when she just yells at me," he replied, and you had a feeling he was just trying to make you feel better.

"Did she?" You couldn't help but smile.

Mike's gaze shifted from your eyes, down your neck and to your chest, where he rested his forehead against you. You let out a small, nervous laugh, but his silence was starting to worry you. "Mike?"

He gave a small shake of his head. "It's not a big deal."

"Did she give you a time-out?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood, but when Mike's eyes closed, your stomach sank.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, and your hands slid out from under his shirt and into his hair. "Mikey?" You asked softly.

His dark hair was mussed up from your hands and he sighed. He lifted his head to look at you again, and his lips were pulled down into a frown. "She told me she didn't want me to date you," he finally replied, and you felt your chest tighten.

"Why?" Your voice was so quiet, so unsure, and Mike's expression softened. His thumb brushed over your cheek. Not that it was what you wanted to hear, but at least it wasn't the 'I can't be with you' that you were almost expecting.

Mike's gaze flickered away again, as if he were trying to think of what he could say that wouldn't hurt your feelings. He wasn't going to be able to come up with anything.

"She really does just hate me," you said, more to yourself than Mike, and you could feel the tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. You were too scared to look at him, so you just focused on his hair in your hands. You ran your fingers through it, smoothing it out.

Mike shook his head. "She doesn't hate you. I know she doesn’t."

"Yeah, that’s what you said earlier." You pulled your hands from his hair and held them at your chest. "Why else would she say that?"

Mike let out a long breath. He closed his eyes, and his thumb stroked your cheek again.

"I don't know,” he whispered. He was so quiet you almost missed it. “But what I do know is that I’m not listening to her."

“Abby isn’t going to appreciate that.” You knew she wasn't. It wasn't Abby you were worried about though. You were worried about your relationship with Mike. You didn't want it to be ruined because of something that Abby couldn't seem to let go of.

Mike sighed again, and his fingers brushed your jaw as he moved in close. His hand slid behind your head as he pressed his forehead to yours. "I don't care," he whispered.

"Abby-" You tried to argue, but Mike interrupted.

"She’ll come around eventually," he assured you, though he sounded unsure. He brushed his lips over your cheek. "I have faith in you," he whispered against your ear.

“That’s a lot of faith given how she treated me when you left for work. I’m surprised I got out unscathed,” you said with a forced laugh, but you could feel the small smile on his lips against your cheek.

He pulled back, but kept his hands on your cheeks, his gaze moving from your eyes to your lips. "I was worse, remember? I almost ran you over by how agitated and tired I was."

You laughed, but the memory still made you shiver. "That is true."

He leaned in again, brushing his nose against yours. “Who would’ve thought I'd end up falling in love with the girl who made me want to rip out my hair and punch holes in walls?"

Your chest tightened again. "Really? I annoy you that much?"

“Like a mosquito, constantly buzzing around my ear." He whispered. His eyes flickered down to your mouth again, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as your heart began to race. “But somehow I can't bring myself to shoo you away."

"Oh gee, I'm so flattered," you said with a laugh, but Mike didn't join you. Instead, he just smirked.

"I think I might like having you around too much," he whispered, his gaze shifting back to your lips again. You could feel his warm breath on your mouth and you forgot how to breathe.

"Too bad Abby doesn't feel the same," you muttered, but Mike just shook his head.

"She's just being a bit protective." He leaned in again, his mouth brushing against yours. Your whole body tingled as you held your breath, and Mike's hands slid to your jaw. His thumbs stroked your cheeks.

"I don't need her protection," he whispered, his voice a deep, husky growl.

You couldn't stop yourself from smiling. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm." His mouth was on yours, his kiss gentle and warm. His fingers ran through your hair as you leaned into it, melting against him as your heart pounded in your chest. His mouth moved to your jaw, and then down your neck. You tilted your head back, your fingers digging into his hair, your lips parting in a gasp as his teeth teased your skin.

He started kissing you again, and you were so caught up in the kiss that you were caught off guard when his hand slid down your thigh. You were still wearing jeans and your shirt, and Mike's hand was suddenly there, tugging at the fabric of your jeans. Your eyes opened, but all you could see was him, his face hovering over you as his dark eyes looked down at your body.

Your chest was heaving as you stared at him, but his mouth was moving to your neck again, your pulse fluttering under his tongue. You felt his fingers in the waistband of your jeans, then sliding inside, and your eyes rolled back in your head at how good it felt.

“What if I drew her a picture? I know Abby loves art." You thought of how you and Abby would spend hours drawing together on her bed when she was younger, back when she actually appreciated you. You thought of her new obsession with painting and how much she loved it, but the idea of drawing a picture for her lured you.

"That's probably not a bad idea," Mike muttered, his hand stopping its movement inside your jeans. The kisses continued down your neck and chest though, and you couldn't help but smile. You missed Abby, missed how your relationship was before. It was hard, but maybe drawing a picture would be a good way to start.

“I could even do the background of the drawing in bright colors.” You knew she loved colors that popped, pink and purple had been her favorite for a while. Maybe upon glancing at it, she’d realize that you indeed cared.

"It sounds like you want to bust out the crayons now," he teased, his voice soft as his mouth trailed over your collarbone.

You rolled your eyes. "Don’t give me any ideas."

Mike just let out a low chuckle. It didn’t bother you that he was completely right, because you did want to actually color, but it mainly just made you wonder what your relationship would be like if you hadn't lost Abby, if she had been your best friend for so many years and not a bitter stranger who would rather ignore you than speak to you.

It made your chest ache, and Mike's lips on your body helped to take your mind off it, but it still weighed down on your chest.

"What if she doesn’t like it? I don’t think I can handle that type of rejection.” You felt so pathetic saying it, but you couldn't stop yourself.

Mike lifted his head. His dark eyes studied your face for a long time, but then he just gave a small smile. "I think she will."

"How do you know that?" You asked. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because she loves you," he said simply, as if he were telling you the sky was blue or the sun was shining outside. You stared up at him, speechless. "She loves you more than anything, and I know she doesn't hate you. I don't believe it for a second."

Your mouth was dry, and your chest felt tight. "Mike-" You started, but he silenced you by covering your mouth with his. The kiss was hard, passionate, and when he pulled away, your breathing was ragged.

"I think you need to start trusting me, trust my judgment," he whispered, and he started kissing you again, his mouth trailing down your neck. His hand slipped under your shirt, his palm sliding up your belly. Your stomach fluttered, but you couldn't take your mind off how you felt, the way it weighed down on you and made your chest hurt.

"What if she does hate me?" You whispered, your voice cracking. Mike stopped, and he rested his chin on your chest. He lifted his gaze to yours.

"I know her," he said. "And I know you."

"That doesn't always mean something." Your voice was barely audible. You let out a long breath. You were trying to think about how to get her to come back to you, but the thoughts were just jumbling in your head. "I'm worried about what I'm going to do if she still won't talk to me. I don't know what that'll mean for me and you."

Mike sat up. His hand rested on your belly. You looked up at him, and his dark gaze studied your face, his eyes filled with concern.

"You have nothing to worry about, okay?" He whispered, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Mike," you whispered, but he just shook his head.

"I'm serious. I don't care what she says." He cupped your cheek. "But you need to stop worrying about that."

"I can't." You felt so helpless. "You know I can't."

He gave you a sad smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I know."

You reached for his hand, but you could feel it starting to shake. You slipped your fingers into his, your thumb running over the back of his hand as you gazed up at him.

He smiled down at you. "But maybe you should start focusing on us instead." He suggested, giving you a mischievous smirk.

"What do you mean?" You asked, your eyes shifting from his mouth to his eyes again.

"Well, I still have about an hour before my shift. Maybe you can keep my mind off work and I’ll keep yours off of Abby."

“That’s…an idea I like," You whispered, and Mike chuckled. He kissed you again, his mouth hot and needy. You were losing your breath again, and he rolled on top of you. Your body was tingling, and you ran your hands up under his shirt to touch his warm skin.

He wasn’t wrong. For that remaining hour all you could think about was him, and he seemed just as focused on you. It actually eased your mind, and when it was over you felt better.

After Mike left for work again, you immediately got started on your little drawing project. You didn't know why it was so hard to just color something, but you were determined. You kept telling yourself Abby would appreciate the effort, and Mike was right, you just had to believe in him.

When Abby returned from school the following day, you were waiting with a smile on your face. It wasn't much, but it was bright and happy. You couldn't imagine it looked good, but at least it was something.

However, Abby didn’t respond. In fact she didn’t even look at the drawing you handed to her. Her face remained blank as she took it and walked away, her shoes echoing down the hall.

Your whole body deflated, and you sunk into the couch. Great, another failed attempt. You thought about calling Mike, but you didn't want to bother him when he was busy, so you just closed your eyes and laid there for a while, wondering how long it would be until he was back from doing errands.

You left his house saddened and disappointed, and you couldn’t even bother to pick up the phone when Mike had called later that day. You just curled up under the blankets in your bed, feeling even more hopeless than before.

Though, if you had picked up that phone, you wouldn’t have been feeling this way because unbeknownst to you, Mike had gone into Abby’s room for a spare pen and discovered that she hadn't thrown out your drawing.

In fact, it was taped to her mirror, where she could see it every time she looked into her own eyes. Underneath it was a crumpled up piece of paper with a crudely drawn stick figure of Mike and a crudely drawn one of you. Both had little hearts next to their faces.

He was totally going to give you the “I told you so” about Abby come tomorrow, but for the time being he just couldn't help but smile.

This was for you guys:

@raviolisblog

@kxllanxtdoor

@nagicats

@auryyz

Hope it met your standards 🫶✨

[decaying-enigma]

[Space Core AU]

Danny could see it all.

Where the darkness meets the dance of light, a swirling canvas of stardust and celestial wonders—a symphony of colors, shapes, and energies unfurling across the infinite reaches of space.

Their radiant glow casting an aura that just beckoned him to join.

Cosmic tendrils weaved a labyrinth of star clusters, and stellar nurseries gave birth to new stars.

Nebulae shimmered with ethereal beauty, their wispy tendrils reaching out across the void like ghostly fingers.

Supernovae unleashed titanic explosions, scattering the remnants of dying stars across the cosmos in a dazzling fireworks display of light and energy.

Danny could almost feel it wash over his skin.

Black holes lurked in the depths of space, their gravitational pull so intense that not even light could escape their grasp.

Dark matter, the invisible scaffolding of the universe, weaves its enigmatic web throughout the galaxy.

He could hear the countless echoes, all worming their way into his being and, for a moment, pulling him closer and closer to...

""Danny!""

He fell back into his seat instantly, two arms holding him down, as Earth's gravity once again took hold of him.

Blinking rapidly, Danny shook his head, visions of stars and nebulae sliding away.

Yet not completely leaving his mind.

It took him a moment to remember where he was as he turned to Tucker and Sam.

They sat on either side of him, both having a firm grip on him with deeply concerned expressions on their faces.

They were all outside, at a table nestled in the corner of the (thankfully empty) park, and had been in the middle of eating lunch from a new cafe that Sam had wanted to try.

Or, at least, that had been the plan before he decided that gravity was just a suggestion.

"You okay, dude?" Tucker asked, a hand still holding onto him.

"I'm fine," Danny replied immediately.

But judging by the identical unimpressed looks on Sam and Tucker's faces, neither believe him in the slightest.

And rightfully so.

Though they did let go of him, trusting he wasn't about to start floating away again, they were ready to react if it happened again.

Danny sighed.

"I just got distracted for a second."

"You were floating away." Sam pointed it out, making little wiggly movements with her fingers. "Plus, your eyes were doing that weird galaxy thing again.

"That was just some dust," he lied half-halfheartedly.

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, not buying that for a moment. "Yeah right. If we hadn't pulled you back down, you would probably already be out of the atmosphere by now."

"I would've noticed," Danny murmured, his eyes shifting to the side. "...eventually."

Sam huffed in frustration. "So not the point I was trying to make."

"They are super weird, though," Tucker agreed, then took a bite of his giant BLT sandwich. "But still cool, in the way they turn into terrifying black-holes that they look like the endless and cruel vacuum of space."

Danny stared at Tucker flatly.

"That makes me feel so much better."

"No problem!"

There was a brief silence, only for Tucker to put his sandwich back down, showing just how serious he was, and ask.

"But seriously, dude, are you alright?"

Danny looked down at the table, wanting to ignore his friends admittedly reasonable concerns, and absently twirled the straw of his ice tea.

But, eventually, he gave in.

"I already stopped by the Far Frozen to talk with Frostbite," he finally admitted. "Even ran into Clockwork, who was feeling strangely non-cryptic, and asked him about what was going on."

"So, what'd you find out?" Sam questioned, leaning forward, eager to hear what he had to say.

Danny snorted, an impish grin growing on his face. "Apparently, I don't actually have an ice core."

They both blinked in surprise.

The fact that Danny's core, practically the ghostly equivalent of a soul and a fundamental part of their being, wasn't ice this whole time and was actually something different was... a pretty big deal.

Sam asked, both curious and concerned, "So, what core do you have?"

"Frostbite called it a space core, or, as Clockwork referred to it, a piece of the Void." Danny rolled his eyes. "I'm like, 70% sure, he only called it that to be extra dramatic."

"So the ice powers were just...what? The first side effect before the weird eyes and the 'spacing' out?" Tucker joked with a grin.

Danny chuckled at the pun, while Sam groaned.

"Basically."

"Do you know what powers you are supposed to expect?" Sam asked, hoping they would catch a break this time.

"Not a clue," Danny said, shooting that hope down immediately.

Tucker raised an eyebrow. "Isn't there someone in the Ghost Zone you could ask?"

"It's, like, super rare; I mean, the only other ghost I know with the same core is Nocturn," he explained with an annoyed huff.

They both winced.

Despite not currently being antagonistic with the Ghost of Dreams, Danny and Nocturn's relationship wasn't anywhere close to friendly, even by ghostly standards.

And considering most ghosts could beat each other up, possibly even dismember one another, and still be willing to hang out later, that's saying something.

Danny sighed. "Yeah, I basically had the same reaction."

"Are you sure there's no one else?" Sam pushed, looking for a solution.

"Ghost Zone's a big place and leads to a lot of others, so probably." He shrugged. "But, even if Nocturn or someone else was willing to give me advice, it wouldn't help very much."

Seeing the confusion on their faces, he continued to explain.

"Frostbite gave me a whole lecture about it, but it basically boils down to the fact that, unlike most core elements, space cores express themselves so differently that there's no real set of powers that they share."

Sam slowly nodded, understanding showing on her face.

"So, while one ghost with a space core might be able to make black-holes, another might control gravity or even create stars," she continued, a hint of wonder in her voice.

Danny nodded his head in agreement.

"Hey, for all we know, you might get the power to twinkle really, really brightly instead." Tucker snickered loudly, with Sam quickly following.

Danny dropped his head onto the table, not sharing his friend's amusement in the slightest.

The snickers soon died off, as Danny continued to mope.

"It's probably not that bad." Tucker pointed this out. "You already learned to control the ice part of your powers; you'll figure this part out eventually."

"And we'll be right there when you do," Sam added, fully believing they would find the answer eventually.

"Hopefully not too close. Frostbite mentioned a few...unexpected stabbings the first time around," Tucker muttered under his breath, wincing as Sam punched him in the shoulder.

Danny rolled his eyes.

He wished that he shared his friends confidence in his abilities, but he was nevertheless grateful for the support his two best friends were giving him.

Thankfully, the conversation soon changed subjects from his potential new powers, moving on to talk about a homework assignment for school as they finished their lunch.

Danny made sure to pay attention this time, staying focused on the here and now.

Yet, even as he grinned from the sarcastic joke Sam had made, he could still feel the pull in the background.

He could hear the symphony of celestial bodies, the stars, the nebulae, and the infinite reaches of space in the back of his mind, all calling out to him.

Just waiting for the day that he would give in to the urge, and in the moment of weakness, join them forever and always until the end of time.

[imakeublush]

How I enter the void

okok so i know in my pinned post i used to have “don’t ask me about the void i don’t use the void for manifesting” but now that i’ve actually entered it my life was changed. like literally, i redid my whole life.

i was honestly a negative nancy about the void because i had a bad self concept when i first tried entering it but now that those are gone here’s how i do it 😋

i firstly wait until i’m pretty tired but not too much so i don’t fall asleep

so this is definitely optional, i’ve entered the void without it but i usually do it if i’m in a bad headspace beforehand.

i use this meditation and i usually never finish it because i enter the void as it’s playing, it seriously works so well

(i also affirm that i am the void and i am pure consciousness throughout the whole meditation)

but if i don’t enter the void during the meditation, i lay down on my stomach so i’m seeing nothing but pitch black and saying void affirmations. i make sure my eyes are looking down but they’re still closed, idk why but that helps with dissociation

i also make sure i’m in control of my breathing

and then usually i’ll feel cold then i feel like i’m floating and everything disappears.

and once i realize i’m in the void i affirm my desires and leave

and that’s it!

things i’ve manifested in the void:

(i’ve already manifested my dream life when i went to the void for the first time, so it’s not much)

enhancing my features

switching classes

even more money

longer nails

a new dog

being better at basketball

being able to visit my friends at my old school

[stffed]

morning person - laios touden x gn reader

a/n: part two to this post. i am starved by his lack of content so i must sustain myself

the sun's rays hit laios' face, causing him to blink his eyes open. he was still tired, having barely slept that night. his dreams were filled with falin screaming and crying for him to help her - to save her. if it weren't for the fact that in between those dreams of screams and anguish that his mind was filled with a blank void - of him, floating in nothingness - then wouldn't have called what he experienced that night sleep at all.

he rubbed at his eyes and looked over to the other side of the bed. you were sound asleep, mouth open and drool spilling past your lips. your head was propped against one of your arms while the other was draped across laios' body. it was quite adorable. if he could, laios would have it immortalised forever in a portrait and carry it around with him.

laios leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead. he gently shook your body in an attempt to wake you up. "it's time to wake up, y/n."

your hand flew from his body to you face. groaning, you rolled over. "five more minutes. i'll be up in five minutes."

he shook his head. honestly, he should have known better. despite you being the one to dictate that chilchuck, marcille, you and himself would leave for the dungeon at first light, you were yet to wake up. the dungeon had skewered his sense of time as they could spend nights under a blazing sun and days under a starlight sky but you were used to the surface (and waking up on your own time).

you seriously weren't a morning person.

a knock at the door made laio turn his sleepy head.

"are you two ready? me and marcille are ready to go when you are," came chilchuck's voice. if he strained, laios could hear the clunk of bags moving about.

"we've just woken up. give us," he yawned, "ten minutes and we'll meet you in the kitchen."

there was some rattling (presumably marcille holding back chilchuck from breaking down the door) before it faded off down the corridor. laios looked back to you and smiled.

you seemed so peaceful. with drool spilling from your mouth and tufts of hair unbrushed, he couldn't see anything other than beauty.

was this the life outside of the dungeon that he was missing? going to bed with you, waking up with you, just spending the day with you? he could count on one hand how many times he had seen you this past month. laios had missed the last time he was in the dungeon, he always missed you whenever the two of you had to be apart. he had made it a habit of returning to you as soon as possible the minute they would leave the dungeon. maybe that was why your house was his first point of call after being they returned to the surface.

laios loved being in the dungeon. all the monsters he could see and the new environments to explore. but he also loved you. and it broke his heart a bit every time he had to leave you to go back. well, he didn't have to go back underground but he chose to. did you ever hate him for that? for leaving you behind every time? for choosing the dungeon over your relationship?

you sat up, rubbing at your eyes. "morning." you grumbled, words muffled by a yawn.

laios brought his hands to your face and gave you a kiss. you were far too sleepy to reciprocate but you did your best. when he pulled away, he squished your cheeks together gently.

even through your sleep-addled eyes you could see the wheels turning in his head. what was he doing, thinking so early? this was the time to sleep not the time to think.

"come on," said laios. he removed his hands from your face and got out of bed. "Let's go save falin."

the next time that you all walked out of that dungeon, with falin in tow, would be his last. he was already thinking about the next time he would be able to wake up next to you. and the time after that. and after that.

[ruija]

Well I really love your art, may I ask how do u color? I struggle with coloring turtles and I wasn't to know how do u do that?

Hi anon! That's a very broad question, so you've given me a great excuse to ramble anything I want about my coloring, eehehehee~! This will be in two parts and I'll start with talking about my simpler coloring style.

As in, when I color characters on a white background, with a limited or light palette.

The driving force behind this style is me being lazy. My time, energy, and attention span are pretty limited, so if I want to finish anything, I gotta do it fast. And with fanart, I'm usually just doing it for fun and relaxation, so there's no need to push myself to polish it too much.

Despite that, I rarely post just black and white sketches or line arts. I always try to add at least a little bit of toning or shading, because that makes the image easier to read. The characters and their shapes pop out and catch the eye of the viewer better.

However, in this particular example, just the couple toning colors don't quite do the job. The way Don and Leo are entangled makes the center area of this illustration very busy and hard to read.

As a comparison; this pic has only one tone + mask colors, and it works. This is because all the characters are standing separately and their poses are very stationary and simple.

So for the Don + Leo pic, adding some shadows helps in bringing out shapes and depths. Also in general, if you don't feel like drawing BGs, it's good to at least add a shadow below the characters. It grounds them and makes them feel like they exist within a space.

Sometimes if the posing looks too complex and busy, it might just be best to color in the characters fully.

However, even if I do full flat colors, I tend to use a lighter palette. Putting characters in their neutral/default color on a white BG can look a bit jarring as if they're floating in a void. It feels less immersive and like the picture is unfinished.

Using lighter colors makes the image more cohesive, and fits the characters into the white environment a bit more naturally.

If I'm too lazy to draw a BG, I prefer using stylized and limited colors. It feels deliberate and that the whiteness is just part of the palette, whereas the character-accurate colors on white don't match as well, even if they're more pastel.

That being said, there's nothing wrong with just slapping the flat-colored characters on a white background. As you know, I do it too. I'm just exposing my 'fancy coloring style' for what it is; me being lazy, hah!

Limited and monochromatic palettes are a nice shortcut even when you do actual backgrounds. It's faster and you don't have to worry about clashing colors. And you can still convey atmosphere and mood.

Also, on the topic of conserving your time and efforts; I think it's very common among younger/less experienced artists to think that the amount of time you spend on your art piece = how good and well received that piece will be.

Which has some merit to it of course, but it can lead to putting too much effort into areas where it's not necessary. E.g. filling the piece with tons of details and clutter that don't serve an actual purpose, but rather make the image hard to read. Or doing really complicated shading for a meme/comic, where simplicity would deliver the joke better.

So whenever I'm drawing something I intend to publish, whether it's a quick doodle or a more polished piece, I try to follow these two principles: Make it easily readable and do the bare minimum that needs to be done to convey what I want to convey.

Putting time into practice is important, but if you draw for work, it's also crucial that you know how to prioritize and use your time efficiently!

Anyway, thanks for reading! In the next part I'll go into how I do my fully colored pieces, so stay tuned for that!

[nelkcats]

Broken Wings

A few days before his coronation, Clockwork came looking for the boy who was staring into the void dejectedly, Danny had really thought that being a halfa would at least give him the chance to stay a little longer with his family.

However, as the ghost features were displayed in his human form and his parents suspicion increased, Danny understood that he had become too ghost for humans, it was just depressing to note that even in Infinite Realms he was too human for ghosts as well.

He loved the green freckles on him, he loved how his eyes had flashes of constellations, and even though it was a bit strange, he loved the little crystal in his right hand made of ice, he felt it made him a bit similar to Frostbite; but when he started to freeze everything with his touch he freaked out.

"Difficult times are coming" the master of time commented, caressing the halfa's hair "your coronation will increase your power and although the ghosts will be fine, you won't be able to return to the human world"

"I didn't want to be king" the halfa murmured sadly "I didn't want to leave the world so early"

"No, I guess not" Clockwork sighed "You must be careful, one of your royal duties will make you see things you wish you didn't, I'm not going to stop you but try to make the right choice"

Danny couldn't understand this until a few days after his coronation, when his consciousness expanded through the dimensions and he began to see people's deaths, their thoughts, regrets, dreams. And he could do nothing more than offer them a home in the Realms or guide them to a peaceful rest, praying that it would be enough.

With each passing day he felt more restless; It was then that the death of Jason Todd played in his head, he saw the boy who wanted to fly and he remembered himself when he had the dream of visiting space, he remembered when he learned to float like a ghost and compared it to the moment when Jason discovered Robin, he couldn't help but want to give him a better ending.

Jason Todd's soul was sad and stubborn, he flatly refused to rest, but he also refused to become a ghost; Danny couldn't help but sigh as he saw the little core forming in his hands.

It was then when he broke the rules, more or less; he waited for the moment when a catastrophe would occur in the boy's dimension and sneaked into Jason's grave, placing the small core in his living body and feeding it with his ectoplasm. He didn't know if that would be enough to make him a revenant or a halfa, but it was the best he could do.

"Please fly into the night sky for me" the halfa said sadly as he walked away. He knew he was being unfair by leaving Jason in his own grave, but what if it didn't work? Would he leave a body far from his resting place? No, he did enough, what happen next depends on Jay.

Danny hoped Jason wouldn't resent him for it if he found out in the future. He clapped with joy when Clockwork told him that it worked, but the time master frowned, telling him that he couldn't return to said dimension for a few years.

So it's understandable that Danny was upset when after a few years he decided to travel back to check on Jason and found the boy alive but with his little core surrounded by contaminated ectoplasm.

[charmedreincarnation]

Hello sweetie💌 I accomplished the void last night and I want to share my story with you. Well, first of all I did a few days of self concept (I didn't do anything special, I listened to subliminals and reminded myself that I already have it). In fact, when people said that the self-concept was something important to the void, I didn't take it very seriously, I thought it was a limiting belief. but such an idea came to my mind, I tried not to achieve the self concept void, but to make me realize that I already have what I want. In this process, I really achieved great results, I felt better now, family problems decreased as much as possible, and most importantly, I realized my unlimited power. and here is the day i entered void!!!

It was evening hours, I didn't specifically listen to a meditation or a frequency void subliminal. I lay down on my bed, closing my eyes and concentrating on my heartbeat, just with an idea that I was sure was going to enter a state of emptiness. I relaxed my body, then repeated the familiar affirmations inwardly (like I was in the void) After that, I got to the most important stage, my body started to take off, it was like I was floating in a vacuum. I suddenly realized that the sounds were gone, the flashes of light before my eyes and the darkness that followed were pulling me in. At that moment I realized that I was in void and said my wishes.

My manifests:

• I passed a university exam and it cannot be said that I was that successful. so i first manifest the result i want.

• I added the foods that I had been craving for a few days on a board I created on Pinterest, I wanted them to be in my closet when I woke up.

• 50 kg and my dream body type

• The most beautiful state of my own face, free of all my insecurities

• a pet cat

• Every time I want to just close my eyes and affirm, enter the void in seconds.

• Albums and magazines of all my favorite kpop groups

• some anime manga

• mastering the manifest, the instant reflection of my wishes on my reality

• have a perfect self concept

• that my mother is completely healthy and peaceful

• a laptop, a new tablet, the latest headphones and my dream phone

• large amount of money in my safe for myself

• My dream room and also a closet to put my snacks

I had manifested that all my wishes would come true the moment I woke up. The first thing I did when I woke up was to look at the phone and it was exactly what I wanted! then i got out of bed and looked around my room, it was exactly the same as in my dream! then i checked my new tech and money, they were in place too.everything was exactly how I wanted it! I literally felt like a dream, but it was all real. After I suppressed my excitement, I heard my mother's voice, she was saying that the exam results were announced. I entered the site from the phone and checked my result! I have quite enough and an excellent result for the university I want!

I just want to say, you can achieve anything, my dears! Just discover that limitless power and don't give up no matter what. You don't have a single thing missing from successful people, first realize that. You are in control of your reality and it is up to you to shape it according to your wishes. I will give an example from myself, I had so many problems that I was not even in good health. I overcame all this myself. And now I am very happy, living my dreams. take care of yourself, believe in yourself, believe that what you can do is limitless, respect your achievements. I believe in you.

I’ve gotten so many success stories lately. I won’t post all of them and still don’t plan on coming back but I promise I see them and I’m so happy for y’all even if I don’t post it 💓💖💖💖

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 6

Summary: Reeling from a confrontation with Rhys, you find yourself at the whim of one of Amarantha's power plays.

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood and gore.

Author's Note: It gets worse so it can get better, I am so sorry for the amount of angst I just put out into the world, there will be better things coming I swear.

Pt 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

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There is nothing but darkness; empty, cold, all consuming darkness. It holds you, carries you through the void as if it has a mind of it’s own. You have no desire to fight it, no will to struggle. It can move you wherever it sees fit; do whatever it desires. If it desires to consume you until you become nothing but the unceasing void, then you will allow it.

You float for hours, days, weeks, you’re unsure, time does not exist here. There are no stars, no light, no varying shades to catch your attention in the emptiness. It’s a shame you’re conscious enough to feel it, because it might have let you sleep more soundly than you ever have.

The darkness flows like a river, carrying you farther and farther away until it finally sets you down, the cold, stone floor beneath you biting through your clothes. As the mist begins to fade, shapes begin to come into view: It’s an alter, lit by thousands upon thousands of candles, their wax melting down the stone steps beneath the alter. Strange symbols have been carved into the sides, a language long forgotten, even in the history books. You manage to raise yourself onto your knees to get a better look at them, dusting your fingers over the markings. Your fingertips are claws again, your hands wreathed in darkness, like shadows, scales crawling their way up your wrists.

It’s wrong.

So wrong.

You’re not a monster! Your hands shouldn’t look like this!

“No! No!”

The symbols on the alter start to glow, spinning, the ancient stone groaning and moving as something from somewhere in the darkness starts to chant.

The scales continue to crawl up your wrists, your arms, spikes forming from your elbows. You try to scream but the sound that comes out of you is the thing of nightmares.

“Stop!” But no pleading will change what you’re becoming…

You jerk awake, screaming.

After your last interaction with Rhys you’d crawled under the covers to have a good cry and must have fallen asleep. You peel of the sheets, tangled around your limbs, and realize with horror that there are claw marks in the mattress, the stuffing scattered around your body. You jump out of it, stumbling, nearly throwing yourself onto the floor, trying to get away.

What have you done?

There are no claws at your fingertips now, no scales crawling across your body, it’s nothing but your own skin and the bandages Rhys had put there earlier. It’s normal. You’re normal. Right?

You stumble your way into the bathroom to wash your face. There is no monster starring back at you in the mirror, but you stare and stare anyway, the water turning cold as it drips off your skin into the sink. “You’ll destroy us all.” Rhys had said, the words an echo in your skull.

You can’t help yourself as you make a fist and slam it into the mirror, shattering it. The impact burns, but it can’t ease the ache in your chest, the yawning chasm you’ve been tumbling into for hours. There is no end to the fall, just nothingness for miles and miles, pulling you down into the deep, dark abyss. You have no way of knowing what’s at the bottom, if the dream is a warning of what sleeps there. You’re about to hit it again when the lock on your door slides out of place.

“What do you fucking want now?” You snarl, fully prepared to find the nearest object in reach and hurl it at Rhys’s stupid head.

But it’s not the violet eyed male you’re so used to seeing at the door this time; not the Attor either, but two shadow figures, made of mist and darkness, their features soft and feminine. Wraiths. They gently shut the door behind them.

“We’re here to get you ready for dinner,” one says in a soft voice.

The other is holding a long swatch of fabric. “The High Lord said you might need some help.”

You grit your teeth, “You’re welcome to tell Rhysand to fucking shove it up his ass.”

One of them giggles as she floats over to you, “I like you.”

The other sets the fabric, no it’s a dress, you can see that now, the fabric such a deep purple it’s almost black, on the ruined bed. She has no mouth to frown, but the way the shadows of what should be her head move makes you think she’s troubled by what she sees. “Amarantha will not be pleased if you show up wearing that to dinner.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You’d forgotten about the dinner.

“It’s an excuse to get dressed up!” Says the first, her shadowy hands reaching for the hem of your shirt. “It’ll look so pretty on you!”

The fact that Rhys had sent them is enough to put you on edge. He is either still so pissed at you that he can’t bare the thought of being in the same room as you, or Amarantha is still so pissed at you that he’s still trying to find a way to calm her down. Either way made you want to bury yourself back under the covers and never come out again.

“How’d I get into this mess?” You grumble.

The first wraith pulls your shirt over your head for you as the second says, “We must be quick. It’s best to not keep her waiting.” That’s all the warning you get before they start dressing you. They’re a bundle of activity as they move you out of your training clothes and into the dress. You can’t help but note that this fits you too, just like the others. It’s velvet, warm against the chill, with a tight bodice that accentuates your figure and then loosens around your hips and falls to your ankles. It glitters when you move in the light as if there are little stars woven into the seems.

It’s beautiful. Something from the Night Court. You want to tear it to shreds.

One of the wraiths brushes and sweeps your hair into a braid that wraps around your head, leaving a few curls loose to frame your face. The other cleans and adds a gloss to your nails. As soon as that’s done they’re swiftly applying powder to your face, coal to your eyes, and a brief swash of dark lipstick across your mouth.

“I’d show you your reflection in the mirror, but…” one of them says.

You eye the shattered glass with a wince. “Sorry.”

The other fixes a stray hair. “You look beautiful all the same.”

You find yourself blushing despite yourself. “Thank you, for all your help.”

One of them giggles and then they disappear as quickly as they’d come, back to wherever the High Lord of the Night Court keeps his, what were they, subjects? Maids? You hadn’t considered that he’d have the people of his court here, especially not after what he’d said earlier about protecting them.

When the door opens again, it’s one of Amarantha’s guards waiting for you. That can’t be a good sign either.

You draw a deep breath as you follow him out. At least it’s not the Attor.

He doesn’t lead you back to the throne room but down a several sets of stairs, past rooms where you hear screaming coming from behind closed doors, into what feels like it might be the very base of the mountain. The floor is rocky here, the walls pock marked with little caves and crevices, some filled with little fires and more armed guards. Monsters you can’t name and things with dozens of eyes peer out at you through the cracks in the walls. Some hiss and snarl. Some scream at you to run away.

You’re heart’s in your throat, the train of your skirts clutched so tightly in your hands you think you might actually rip through it. What have you done?

The guard says nothing as he walks you through the halls. He only stops when you finally come to another humongous door, carved with old and fading symbols. Pillars hold up the roof above it, carved into the shapes of snarling wyverns. This is her dinning hall?

Two more guards stand at attention between the pillars, waiting for the signal from the first to open them. But as you’re ushered inside, there is no great hall waiting to meet you. It’s more of a cave, a single torch mounted to the wall, burnt almost down to the end. At the far end, a metal grate separates you from what looks like a tunnel, but it is too dark to tell.

“What is this?” You demand but the guard is already stepping back, the doors swinging shut behind him, and to your horror, being bolted shut from the outside.

“Hey!” You bang a fist on the door. “Let me out of here!”

But the doors remain locked, no sound coming from behind them.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You will yourself to breath, to remain calm.

The grate at the far end of the wall slowly begins to slide upward, the ancient, rusted metal groaning and creaking from disuse. It makes the walls rattle as it opens, bit by bit. To your relief, no horrible monster comes climbing out from behind it, it merely opens until there is enough room for you to walk under it. There is in fact a tunnel, the path curving in strange directions like a living thing had been burrowing through the mountain. It smells like it too.

Rhysand had given you the wrong damn thing to wear, that was for sure.

You hike your skirts up with your hands and step into the tunnel, seeing no other option, but the sinking feeling in your stomach grows bigger with each step forward you take. It was a terrible, terrible mistake to challenge Amarantha this early.

The tunnel goes on for miles, twisting and looping the expanse of the mountain, often doubling back on itself like some sort of maze. You’re about half way through, the bottom of your skirts so caked in mud that’s your having a hard time holding them, that you hear a strange, scuffling sound come from behind you. When you turn to look there’s nothing there, but you can hear the echo of footsteps squelching through the muck.

“Hello?” You call, but nothing answers.

You move a little faster, trying to find a way out, your mind imagining a dozen different possibilities of what’s behind you. The chasm in your chest widens, beckons, the thing that prowls at the bottom of it stirring to life. It’s an effort to focus, to breathe, to try and keep it at bay while simultaneously trying to not trip over your skirts.

The tunnel veers so sharp and suddenly left that you slam into the wall.

The footsteps are getting louder behind you; you can hear the heavy rasp of breath too. It doesn’t sound fae, it’s heavy almost, like a creature’s might be.

You hike your skirts back up and run, fighting the mud and the building panic in your chest. Another left, then another, and there, at the far end, light pokes through. Light, so much brighter than any you’ve seen in weeks. You barrel towards it as fast as your legs can carry you, for as fast as you are, that thing behind you is faster. It’s running now too, the walls shaking behind it.

From somewhere beyond the light you hear Amarantha’s cruel voice call out, “Oh good, the entertainment is finally here.”

Shit shit shit!

Are you the entertainment?

Does it matter in the end?

You burst out of the tunnel, the light so blinding after weeks in the dark that you slip and loose your footing trying to shield your eyes. There’s a chorus of laughter above you, as if a large crowd is starring down at you. There’s too much light! It burns.

“Having fun yet, little mouse?” Amarantha coos.

And then something with claws latches onto your shoulder and hurls you across the space.

You don’t even have time to scream, have time to register anything beyond the flash of pain in your shoulder before a wall rises up to meet you. Everything spins as you slam into it and crumple into the mud. The cold seeps through you, plasters you dress to your body. You taste blood.

Something from within the blur of colors swimming across your eyes roars at you.

There’s a crowd somewhere above you cheering.

Trying to wipe the spots out of your eyes only smears mud across your face.

"Get up!" Rhys's voice echoes like a banging gong in your head.

"Stay out of my fucking head!" You slam the door to your mind in his face. Now he suddenly wants to be helpful? Bastard!

You stumble onto your knees, the mud sinking beneath your palms.

"Move!" Rhys has barreled right through the door in your mind like it's made of toothpicks, panic edging his voice. You don't have enough presence of mind to look up to wherever he might be in the crowd. Not when a jagged set of teeth latches onto the already gaping wound in your shoulder and drags you into the center of what you’re pretty sure is a pit. It’s breath is rancid, rotting meat clinging to it’s rows and rows of jagged teeth, clamping down on your shoulder as it shakes you like a rag doll.

You’re going to die here, shaken to death like a toy if you don’t do something. Amarantha certainly isn’t going to save you, not when you’d wounded her pride so thoroughly this morning.

The thing that lives beneath your skin calls again, you can almost imagine a hand reaching out of the chasm, dark and scaled like that thing in your dreams had been. It begs you to reach out and take it.

The pain in your shoulder is blinding, you’re sure you’ll loose that arm entirely if it doesn’t stop shaking you.

You reach out and grab the hand offered, you’re only lifeline, and the chasm does in fact split open. The darkness that lives there swells and fills you so thoroughly you wonder for a moment if you are dead. But then you’re blinking against the light and things start coming into focus, even as your body shifts and morphs. You have talons again, but they’re longer now, slicing through the chest of the beast like they have a mind of it’s own until it’s terrible jaws unclench and drop you. It whimpers as it eyes the dark mist leaking from your body and when you flick a wrist in it’s direction, scattering that darkness, it slams the beast into the wall.

It’s some sort of chimera, it’s great wings flared out behind it’s scaled body. It’s got more teeth and horns than the ones you’d seen depicted in books, like it’s been modified for whatever this great pit is.

The crowd is in fact situated above you, the pit and all it’s tunnels separated by a chain-link dome high above your head, there are tables and benches, and another throne for Amarantha, around the edge, all gaping at your display.

You manage to rise, legs shaking beneath you. The bodice of your gown is in tatters, clinging to your shoulder by no more than a thread, all your exposed skin covered in blood. You can barely raise your right arm, but your left, wreathed in dark tendrils of magic and clawed is clearly visible in the light.

The chimera growls as it stalks back over to you, crouched low, ready to pounce. You’ve sprouted fangs, you can feel them poking into your lip as you snarl back at it, now more animal than girl. Maybe Rhys is right, maybe you really are a monster capable of destroying everyone. You have enough time to finally mark the section of the viewing platform where all the High Lords sit, and you can feel that assessing gaze of his more than all the others. You spare him a glance because you can't help yourself, because for all the pain he's caused you, you want the final nail in your coffin to be the look of disgust on his face when he sees that he's right about you. But it's not disgust that you see at all, but genuine, unbridled fear.

"Don't stop," he urges. "Kill it now!" Not fear of you, but for you? This isn't the time to try and make sense of what games Rhys is playing. The back and forth games, the way he pushes you away but comes back on his own is something you'll have to deal with later, when there's not a monster snarling at your feet, ready to devour you.

You reach into that darkness inside of you, where all your confusion and anger goes, pushed like some sort of sacrifice to the monster that lives within. You grab it, will it back to the surface, and when the chimera lunges, you blast all that energy out of your fingertips. The wave of darkness that flows from you turns the creature into a bloody mist, no bones or claws or teeth left in it’s wake. The mist splatters across your skin; you can taste it on your tongue.

You might have had more time to freak out over it if a second beast didn’t come hurtling out another tunnel. There is no time to think, only to move, as you throw yourself out of the way of it’s claws and back into the mud.

"Good girl."

"Shut up, Rhysand!"

The crowd cheers on the new beast. This one is quicker than the first, catching itself and spinning back to you faster than you can blink. You don’t have time to reach for any of your power, only to raise a hand and your claws tear through the thing’s belly as it flies overhead of you. Blood and gore rain down on you as it crashes into the wall, whining.

It’s in your eyes, your nose, dripping down the back of your ruined dress. Good. No more Night Court clothes for you.

You haul yourself back up and slash at it’s exposed sides, it’s wings, any part of it you can reach with your claws. There is nothing to stop you, your claws slide through it like butter, spraying blood and no matter how your mind screams at you, you can’t stop. Your powers have taken over, it demands that you keep pushing. There isn’t much left of it by the time the third chimera makes it into the pit.

There’s no telling how many Amarantha has at her disposal. Judging by the booing and screaming of the crowd, maybe there isn’t that many.

You’re aware, as you finally leave the ruined corpse of the second, that something is happening to your eyes. They feel different. Things look sharper, clearer. They’ve shifted into something else, but you’re not quite sure what.

As the beast lunges for you, you lunge right back, a flurry of claws and fangs and dark power that makes mud and blood fly. The lights from the chandeliers far above your head sway and shutter, like you’re sucking the power from them, dimming the room. The darkness of the mountain is nothing compared to the void that lives inside you.

You black out for a moment, seeing nothing but darkness and hearing only the sound of your own wild roaring, and when you come to, you’re on your knees in the mud, panting, half laughing with delirium. And the chimera is in pieces before you.

The crowd overhead is on their feet screaming and cursing in disbelief.

You manage to drag your gaze over to where Amarantha sits on her throne, her mouth hanging open. Rhys is standing behind her, stone faced. At her feet, sits that male wearing the collar.

"Get up."

It's too much effort to fight him or push him out of your head, it's clear he's capable of getting in regardless. All those lessons he'd been toying with you, probably trying to lull you into a false sense of security so you weren't prepared for the next time he needed to get something out of you. It's exhausting trying to figure out his play.

Still, there's a small piece of you that knows he's right, that Amarantha is watching, waiting to see what you'll do. If you stay here kneeling, crying in the mud, she'll still take it as a victory, she still found a way to beat you. It takes all your effort to get yourself onto your feet again. Everything feels like it’s trying to push you down into the mud. You’ve never been this exhausted in your life. It’s by sheer force of will that you manage to stand and lock your knees so you don’t crumble back into the mud.

You’re sure you look absolutely disgusting. No one is going to point you out as the daughter of the King of Hybern. There is no princess here in the pit, only this clawed thing.

So, from one monster to another, you look Amarantha in the eyes, and raise your middle finger.

Flame and ice and wind explodes from her so fast that the crowd around her has to jump out of the way to avoid being hit.

There’s another grate in the side of the pit, hidden by rocks and debris but you hear it open all the same. Two guards emerge this time to drag you out. No more beasts for you to fight.

You manage to walk yourself under the grate, but once it starts to close behind you, blocking you from the crowd's sight, you collapse against the wall. As you catch your breath, your claws slowly retract. The dark mist that wreathes your body begins to slow and settle. Your eyes readjust to the dark, to whatever they were before this all started. It feels like the chasm you split open shrinks back inside of you--a volcanic eruption suddenly bubbling back down into the mountain. It leaves you slowly, settling back beneath the surface as if it hadn’t just caused such utter chaos. Your hand shakes as you run it over your eyes, trying to clear away everything clinging to your face. What did you just do?

One of the guards grabs your arm and hauls you off the wall.

Your whole body aches, but the pain in your shoulder, your right arm useless and limp at your side is excruciating. Even the movements from the way they drag you makes it feel like your whole arm might just pop off.

You can’t focus on where they’re leading you, all your energy into staying upright. You hear doors open and see the lights shift and change as you’re lead through other rooms but none of it makes any sense to you.

“I’d like to go back to my room now,” you say, your voice raw. Were you screaming that much?

They ignore you as they continue to lead you in what feels like circles. It’s only when you see a shock of red hair beneath a glittering crown made of bones and rubies that you realize they’ve led you up to where the crowd had been watching your little display. Most of which is clear now. There are jagged icicles sprouting out of one wall, a body impaled on it, another crushed beneath it. The chain-link separating the room from the pit is partially melted, the remains of it swinging back and forth on the wind. Tables and chairs have been strewn about, some broken. There’s a few people moaning and bleeding on the floor, everyone else that could had scattered.

Amarantha remains shaking with rage in the center of the room, ice sprouting from her left hand, crackling and crawling all the way up her elbow, even as her other hand is wreathed in flames. Her eyes are so dark they’re almost wholly black.

The sight of her shakes some alertness back into your body, so at the very least you’re not about to collapse onto the floor.

Most of the High Lords are gone, save for a masked blonde who you can only assume is Tamlin. He’s wearing a collar too, the chain hooked into the floor beside her throne.

And Rhysand, half his shirt torched, is dabbing a damp cloth into a deep blister across his tattooed chest.

This damage is your fault, you realize with a sinking feeling in your gut. If you hadn’t challenged her, pushed her too far, none of this would have happened. Those people under the ice would still be alive and Rhys wouldn’t be hurt. You’re pissed at him but you don’t want to see him hurt. You don’t want to see anyone hurt. You had just been so on edge earlier, so focused on doing something to make Amarantha pay you hadn’t stopped to think about who she’d hurt in the aftermath.

“I’m sure you’re very pleased with yourself,” Amarantha snarls.

You can still taste the blood of those beasts in your mouth. “Thrilled actually,” you say because you can’t stop yourself. You can’t keep all these things at bay, it’s like they just slip out of you and no matter how much your mind reels and balks at it, it comes out anyway.

She moves so fast you barely have time to blink before she’s slapping the hand covered in ice across your face. “You stupid, little bitch!”

It burns as if it was the fire, but even if you wanted to hit her back, you can’t. You don’t have anything left in your body other than to hiss at the contact and try to retain your balance. The last thing you want is to end up on the floor at her feet.

Maybe it doesn’t matter in the end, because, despite all he’d said earlier, and despite the massive blister, Rhys manages to weasel himself in between the two of you. He’d been right about you and he still jumped between you.

“It’s not her fault,” he says.

The room shutters so hard one of the chandeliers falls from the ceiling and crashes to the floor.

“Get out of my way, Rhysand!” She screams.

“It’s my fault.”

The world stops turning for a second. He can’t be serious.

“I pushed her too hard training earlier.”

The lie makes your stomach twist, you sway on your feet trying to reach out and push him out of the way, to tell her that’s not true. But your body won’t move the way you need it to. Everything is sluggish and slow, all your energy reserves tapped. You’d overdone it.

“So you knew she could do that?” Amarantha says and her voice is so deadly quiet that you use the last little bit of your strength to grab Rhys’s wrist and try to pull him out of the line of fire.

“I suspected.”

“And yet you said nothing?”

There is no hesitation in his voice as he says, “No, I didn’t think it was necessary until we knew for sure.”

He needs to move. Maybe there is still some small chance that she can’t kill you, that she would have pulled you out of the pit at the last possible second just to save face with Hybern, but you’re not entirely sure Rhys has that same protection. New High Lords can be made. You tug on his wrist again, but he pays it no mind.

You’re only other option is to hope he can hear you as your stand at the edge of the hallway in your mind, the yawning, dark precipice beyond swirling in various shades of blue and black. “Rhys stop!” You scream. “She’ll kill you!” Damn him. As cruel as he is, as much as you want to hate him, you can’t stand here and let him do this for you. You challenged her and you had beaten her, whatever consequences came with that are yours.

If he hears you, he doesn’t acknowledge it either.

“We’re going to have a very long conversation about where your loyalties lie, Rhysand,” Amarantha snarls as she gestures towards the guards still hovering around behind you.

You’re so dizzy from he blood loss, crimson dripping off your fingers, pooling at your feet, that you’d forgotten they were there. When they move to grab him, he doesn’t fight it.

You can’t breathe again, reaching desperately for any bit of power you can reach inside yourself. He’s an asshole but you can’t let this happen, you can’t let her hurt him. But the chasm that was so readily open to you before is closed, nothing there for you to reach like you’d used every bit you had available.

This couldn’t be happening! Not now.

“It’s not his fault!” You say, but they’re already clamping irons down on his wrists, as if he’d been putting up any fight at all. “This is between you and me.”

She finally flicks her gaze off him to look at you, the corners of her mouth turning up in a grin. “Don’t worry, little mouse, you and I will be working very closely from now on to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

Mother save you!

“Don’t do-”

“Stay quiet.” Rhys hisses before the door that leads to him slams shuts and locks from the inside. He'd heard you, and then he’d locked you out.

You look back and forth between them. Spots are starting to form in the corners of your eyes and there’s pressure in the base of your skull. You can’t tell if it’s from the pain radiating in your shoulder or a headache from expelling so much power at one time. Either way, it’s like a countdown has started. You only have so much left to give before you collapse.

“Get them both out of here before I change my mind about being merciful,” Amarantha hisses.

One guard grabs your busted arm and you can’t help but scream as he gives it a yank.

Rhys lunges at him, snarling something you can't make out, but the other guard grabs him by the hair and yanks him backward.

You’re going to throw up or pass out, the pain making the room spin.

“As if I don’t have enough to deal with with my mate tonight,” she hisses and you barely have enough presence of mind to hear the growl the word drags from Tamlin. Mate. Amarantha is the High Lord of Spring’s mate. “You’re lucky it was you that brought him in today, Rhysand, or things might have gone quite differently.”

The room tilts and blurs and the floor is suddenly rising up to meet you. It’s too much!

The guard yanks you up by the back of your dress, or what’s left of it, the torn fabric tearing further beneath his gloved hands, and back onto your feet. You’re pretty sure you’re crying as he drags you to the door, but there’s so much caked to your face your not entirely sure if it’s tears, blood, or mud sliding down your cheeks.

“Rhys,” you whimper because there is no one else to beg for help, your powers as illusive as ever and damn Amarantha and her stupid court, but your terrified of what will happen to you and him if you pass out right here.

A familiar brush against your mind is the only answer you get as you're dragged back down the stairs. Those stairs, the guard’s boots, it’s the last thing you remember before it all becomes too much and you black out.

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