#the-dread-doggo

[rottackk]

[jelliclejack]

[lou-struck]

Not me thinking about... Puppy-Parent Katsuki Bakugo being absolutely terrified to bring your new puppy to the off leash dog park near your home. Even though your pup finally has all their shots and are big enough to run around and play with all the other doggos. 

Even since you brought the little furball home, your living room has been its obstacle course, Katsuki used to complain about the way she would leap off the back of the couch and chase its reflection into the floor length mirror, but as time went on he could barley muster up a scowl when talking about them. 

Getting him into the car with you this morning was a feat, in his state of concern, he kept trying to delay the inevitable by hiding the leash, treats, and poop bags. At first, you thought you were losing your mind until you heard the jingle of your car keys in his pocket and he came clean about everything. 

Your reassurances got him into the passenger seat where he now looks down that the little furball shaking with anticipation on his lap and cannot stop himself from petting the little thing. The motion is calming to him, but it cannot cease the sense of dread that is building up like plaque on his heart. 

Unaware of her fathers fear, she preens under his attention and when your little family pulls into the parking lot, her tail starts to wag excitedly when it can see all the other dogs running free. 

Dogs that are much bigger than she is…

Dogs that look like they could just tear her into shreds…

Glancing over at Katsuki you see he is a white as a ghost. You tell him again that everything will be fine and he shrugs it off lamely saying that he doesn't know what youre talking about

But you both know better...

You walk through the gates into the huge park and shut it behind you, you are holding everything your little pup needs, while Katsuki clutches her leash with a death grip. Although it's time, he doesn't want to unclip his little princess. 

The big strong Pro Hero looks to you for comfort as he gathers up the courage to unclip the leash. As soon as the pink leash embroidered with skulls hits the dirt, your little thing takes off in a sprint towards a large pack of dogs completely unafraid.

He doesn't breathe as he watches them race around trying to sniff all the butt’s they can. His palms are sweatier than normal but you still hold his with yours to ground him. 

You watch over them carefully and are relieved to see that all the dogs are playing together nicely. 

There is no big bite

No one is even growling…

Pretty soon the little furball who has captured both of your hearts is leading the pack, chasing the other dogs around like a boss.

You turn your head to say something to Katsuki and although he would never admit it to anyone, you see that there are tears in his eyes.

[cry4mina]

Take Me Back To Eden - Granite (Part 2)

(Nayeon x fem!reader)

Take Me Back To Eden - Choke Hold - Part 1

Word Count: 5k Angst/more angst/attempted fluff met with....angst Summary: Reader is struggling with the emotions that come with uncovering some uncomfortable truths about their relationship with Nayeon.

Tw: Mentions of drinking, reader has unhealthy coping mechanisms, reader is a little stuck in their head (very stuck in their head), spiraling, nausea, cursing, flash backs, food, cheating, panic attacks, crying, Dahmo is present again, a quick mention of Chaeyoung, doggos (the 10th member of twice and his brother make an appearance) If I missed anything pls let me know!

A/N: Thank you for all the support on Part 1 of this fic! If you haven't read that yet, it is linked above for context. There will be a Part 3 in the works, shortly! Thanks to @saiiidahyunee for always listening to me ramble as I organize my thoughts and coming through with the suggestions<3 Reminder: My asks/requests and DMs are always open!

-

You wake up to the smell of bacon. You reach to your right, but your hand lands on cool slick wood instead of your soft sheets. You get immediately upset that Nayeon isn't next to you.

When you open your eyes you’re met with an immediate headache and the realization that you aren’t in your own bed. Your vision is blurred much like the last 12 hours. Colors and shapes that aren’t distinct but there’s a familiarity in the patterns seen by your hungover eyes.

You usually wake to the sweet sound of her humming in the kitchen to herself. Your chest hollows remembering the previous morning.

Her showering you with affection from the minute you opened your eyes, her switching coffees with you so you could have the perfect cup, the giggles and glances while bathing together…your heart was dissociating down the path of you and Nayeon.

You shake those thoughts out of your brain, causing the dull ache behind your eyes to sharpen into a seering burn between your temples.

You blink rapidly to clear the haze and let out a groan at how bright the sun is beaming through the large windows in front of you. You recognize the living room from the neutral tones of the furniture, the Twice posters framed in black hung perfectly, the fireplace roaring to beat out the chilly air, and the hints of light pink everywhere.

You don’t even need to see the dog toys scattered throughout the room- , you’re in Momo’s living room.

The uncomfortable couch you had fallen asleep on was good for sitting and not for sleeping. You shift trying to sink a little deeper between the blanket someone placed on you and the firm cushion below you but the scream of your lower back was enough to keep you placed right where you were.

The sizzle of the bacon you just smelled and the clicking of nails on hardwood floors are now present throughout the house. You hear Boo barking for a piece of bacon followed by a loud “Shh!” Followed by a hushed ”Y/n is still sleeping…we’ve got to let her rest- Boo! You better share with Dobby!” You give a soft smile and yell “Don’t worry, I’m awake!”

You reach for your phone on the coffee table next to you and attempt to open your phone but your screen refuses to flicker on. “Great” You clammer to yourself tossing back on the table as you hear Momo greeting Dahyun in the kitchen.

“Good Morning, my love” the sound of a quick peck and a sigh; you feel the knot in your chest and the lump in your throat grow. You hear the way love is laced within the words Momo speaks when addressing Dahyun. It makes your skin burn with dread.

A deep ache that could only be filled by who you thought Nayeon was. Who she might have never been. The hushed conversation over the sounds of breakfast being made continues as you spiral.

Endless thoughts running through your brain as you try to file them away in their proper place. An attempt to process the feeling of betrayal. You can’t believe you’re even thinking about her doing such a thing.

“Nayeon? Cheating? She couldn’t…could she?” The woman who would threaten the Sun if it burnt you, the same woman who was so gentle with you, always making sure you felt safe and loved. You felt like acid was eating away at your frontal lobe while the knife twists against the memories flooding back to you as your brain tries to talk you out of accepting what you’ve seen in her wallet. Dehydrated, Hungover, Heart broken. A triple threat.

While you try to derail the train of thought that was plaguing your mind, you recognize the sound of nails and the shifting of floor boards as someone walks over to you through the hallway. The dogs follow and run ahead to jump on the couch and greet you. You laugh as they try to lick your face giving them equal attention without rising from your position.

“Good Morning, Y/n-nie,'' You avert your eyes slightly from the dogs to see Dahyun smiling down at you on the couch with a bottle of water raised up by her face. She gave a little shimmy and posed with the bottle to try to get you to smile.

“Good Morning, Dahyun” The dogs jump down when they hear the sound of Momo placing food in their bowl, scurrying off to their respective spots for breakfast.

You try to sit up as Dahyun holds her hand out with some medication waiting for you to pop them in your mouth before handing you the bottle.

“You are a saint,” you say while opening the water bottle. You chug half the bottle before coming up for air. Gasping at how great the cool liquid feels going down your throat.

She sits down next to you waiting for you to say anything. She doesn’t want to push you into more discomfort than you are already experiencing.

Your eyes scan the coffee table to see an empty tequila bottle, your dead phone, and 3 empty glasses. You sigh. You weren’t much of a drinker to begin with but you needed something to numb you.

The problem with that, is that now you weren’t numb. Your arms felt heavy at the weight of the emotions you are carrying. You feel as though the couch you are sitting on is swallowing you as you sink slowly into the void of absolute devastation.

Your jaw tenses as your eyes start to water. Remembering the way her voice shook when she told you it wasn’t what you thought it was. It echoed in your head, reverberating against your hangover and swollen eyes.

“Has she ever lied to you before? How long has it been going on? Did...did she really let someone else touch her?” You felt filthy and in need of a shower.

Staring boldly into the fire as you navigate your deep dejection, you watch memory after memory rush into your mind’s eye. Earlier attempts to fend these off failed.

A gray washed melancholy glazed over your facial expressions contouring your usually cheery demeanor into a desolate haze.

Dahyun watched all your emotions play out on your face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she quietly inquired, shaking you out of the hopeless spiral.

“I don’t even know what to say. I have so many questions but Nayeon”

You flinch at the name as if someone just poked your tender heart with a sharp sewing needle… “ and this “J” person, only have the answers.”

Another wave of gray as you realize what you’ve just said. Hearing it in your own voice allowed the pieces to settle one by one. Pulling heart strings from the knot that was created over a flimsy piece of paper.

A single tear falls from your eye as Momo saunters in with 3 plates of food, handing you and Dahyun one before sitting down on the other couch, opposite you and her girlfriend.

“Thank you.” You can hear the cool slated tone of your voice as you try to hide the emotional turmoil you were drowning in.

“Thank you for letting me stay here and for being there for me. I’m really happy to have friends like you.”

They both smile empathetically with their mouths full as you take a bite of the salty strip of bacon.

With breakfast finished, Dahyun and Momo started to pack. Twice would be heading to Japan that afternoon for their schedules and wouldn’t be back until the middle of the following week.

You sit at the foot of their bed and help them decide which outfits to bring. Catching and folding the clothes that were thrown at you and tucking them neatly into the suitcases.

You lightly sigh, trying to not bring attention to yourself as you reminisce in silence about the last vacation you took with Nayeon. Giving almost the same routine you were experiencing with Momo in the moment.

The chaos that was Nayeon packing was one of the most unorganized things you’ve ever experienced. The first time you watched her try to get everything together for a trip you had to stop her 5 minutes in as she was sitting on a suitcase of shoes trying to close it enough to get the zipper to budge.

She hated packing and would just throw the jumbled mess of clothes into a case and call it good.

When you started living together, all of that changed. You would sit down on your bed and watch her showcase outfit after outfit to decide what to wear. You loved being able to help her decide between the colors and fabrics because it meant spending time with her.

She seemed to hate packing less too. You wonder how she’s fending trying to do it by herself as you redirect your attention to Momo.

“Y/n, I know you know you’re more than welcome to stay here while we are gone,” Momo says, pulling a black sweater vest with a turtleneck off the hanger and tossing it to you.

“I know you’ll probably go back to the apartment but I want you to know you don’t have to stay there if you don’t want to. Our guest bedroom is always open to you…or you can sleep on the couch again, if you prefer.”

You all share a laugh while you neatly fold the garment and place it on top of the already organized stack in the massive suitcase

“I think I'll pass on the couch, but I might take you up on the offer for the guest bedroom depending on how everything feels at the apartment.”

Momo nods her head, “You know where the spare key is, if you need it.”

—

Rain slicked streets and the sounds of cars passing is what fills your drive home. You’re fixating on the sound of rain tapping the windshield and the slosh of the tires in the puddles splayed out over the roads.

You are anxious heading back to the apartment. Muscles tensing throughout your body as you get closer and closer to your shared home with Nayeon.

You are hoping she’s already left for the airport so you don’t have to have the uncomfortable conversation just yet. You’d rather wait until you’ve fully processed what’s happened and gather your thoughts.

You do want to hear what she has to say but you need to be calm in order to react in a way that is best for you and your needs, just in case you have to only rely on yourself again.

You stop at a red light, patiently waiting for the bright green to flash again as if it carries you home. The drive isn’t a long one but knowing what’s waiting is what’s creating the time between houses. You look down at your hands and fidget with the dry skin, something Nayeon would light swat at your digits for doing.

If she saw you anxiously tapping your leg, touching your hair, or scratching at the sides of your fingers she would scoot closer to you, placing her hand on your thigh. Tracing small hearts, your initials and her initials, among other patterns, to get you to fixate on something else.

Self soothing now feels like a chore, you want to allow your spiral to run its course, sucking you into the disheveled thoughts occupying your headspace and filling your lungs with sharp cries.

The bright green of the traffic light reminds you you’re driving as you push the clutch in with your left foot, lifting your right off the break and accelerating with the gas. Clutch in again, shift to second, the balancing act of a stick shift car was almost too much today.

You had too many thoughts and wished you didn’t have to pay attention so much. Though it was probably for the better as safety is allegedly important.

You roll your eyes as traffic stops you from proceeding. You just want to go to a familiar place and sit still with yourself and these cars are blocking up the roads.

You can see the entrance of the front office to the building being crowded by people with cameras. The car in front of you being halted by a security guard so the people congesting the roads don’t get hit.

You quickly realize what’s happening and start staring at the grooves of the woven leather on your steering wheel. Fiddling with them to try to distract yourself from all the commotion outside of your vehicle. You hear the camera’s clicking and can see the flashes in your peripherals.

You glance up momentarily to get a view of Nayeon from your car window. The tints aren’t dark enough to shield you from her but the camera flashes might blind her enough to not see you.

She’s wearing a loose wrinkly sweater that belonged to you, sweatpants, white sneakers and a pair of dark black sunglasses. Her makeup doesn’t appear to be done and her hair is tucked into a messy bun. Your heart melts at the sight of her.

You feel a tear trickling down your cheek. You want nothing more than to embrace her. To feel her on your skin again, to feel the safety of your partner.

You remember the note, the singular letter repeating in your head, remember what brought you to this emotional state in the first place. You don’t allow the visual of her to comfort you, not for this.

She’s waving to the cameras and doing hand hearts while walking towards the black SUV that’s there to take her to the airport when she sees your car. You watch the revelation click in her head and she immediately stops walking and looks through the crowd to see you.

Mouth ajar and sadness creeping into her skin. You make eye contact for what feels like hours before she composes herself, cameras still blindingly flashing as she gets into the SUV.

You hear the door close and see the window in the back seat roll down, opposite of the crowd. The bigger car pulls out of the entrance to the complex and right up next to you.

You feel your heart start to beat at an alarming pace as she sticks her head out of the window after removing her sunglasses. Her eyes are red and swollen with bags under them. She definitely didn’t sleep.

You realize that she’s motioning for you to roll your window down. You comply quickly, knowing that it’ll be brief.

Barely louder than a whisper “Hey…Is your phone dead?”

You nod your head slightly, having trouble making eye contact with her. A beat of silence drums between the two of you as you awkwardly shift in your seat. The stiffness of your lower back proceeding to yell at you again from a combination of sleeping on the couch and the stress you were under.

She chooses to break the silence with exactly what you expected. “Can we talk when I get back?”. You can hear the glint of hope in her voice.

You hadn’t blocked her, you rolled your window down, and you haven’t pulled off yet (not that you could with traffic) so you’re still present in some sense.

You nod your head again, agreeing to the hard conversation. She smiles softly at you, cheeks rising up as she goes to speak again when you hear the driver husk “Miss Im, I’m sorry to interrupt but you do have a plane to catch.”

She nods her head at the driver then brings her attention back to you.

“I left you something on the counter and there’s dinner in the fridge for you…I didn’t know if you’d be home and wanted to make sure you remembered to eat... I love you, y/n” as the SUV slowly starts to drive, picking up its pace quickly as it continues down the street.

Once the crowd dissipates and the smoke clears, you pull into your designated parking spot with haste. Quickly pulling the E brake and putting the car in neutral so you can take in what just happened. Not many words were shared, but you felt every single one of them echoing in your mind.

You grab your keys as you replay the “I left you something on the counter and there’s dinner in the fridge for you. I love you, y/n” in your head over and over again as you make your way up the elevator.

Walking up to the door, you hesitate to open it. The thick dark wood is intimidating as it glares down at you belittling your right to walk through it. Shiny golden numbers reflect the bright lights back at you as you reach for your keys hanging from your hip.

Your skin prickles as you register that she won’t be on the other side of that waiting to hug you after a long day. The usual routine that happens when arriving home isn’t the same.

You brace yourself, slide the key into the lock and turn. Hearing the mechanism click as the cog turning inside. You turn the knob in tandem to reveal your kitchen.

Closing the door and locking it behind you, you absorb the atmosphere around you. The lighting is dark due to the overcast sky. The silence is loud as the room breathes around you. Your eyes pan over the room to find a bouquet of roses in a crystal vase on the counter.

You bought that vase to fill with flowers for her, now she was returning the favor. You take in the way the crystal shimmers with little to no light and the refractions of red coming off the sparkling corners that were etched into the filigree carved into its surface.

Flicking the lights on to reveal the spotless granite countertops, you realize that someone might have been stress cleaning. You remove your jacket and hang it on the rack on the back of the door hesitant to take your shoes off.

Your eyes hit the ground when you realize that the once sanctuary doesn’t feel nearly as safe. You push through the feeling, and put your shoes in their normal spot next to the door.

You glide through the kitchen with an attempted ease as you search for the comfort you once had, plugging your phone into the charger on the counter.

The soft smell of roses permitting the room. You look at them and notice an envelope with your initials and a heart scrawled on it in bright red ink next to the vase.

Picking up the envelope, you stare at it tracing the edges of the thick paper with your fingers. Would she write the answers to your questions here? Or would she wait until you asked? There’s only one way to find out, and you were sure you were too sober to pull the trigger.

Going into the cabinet, you pull out a wine glass and immediately turn for the fridge. Searching the shelves for the bottle that was already open. You pull the container of food out that Nayeon made for you, immediately getting nauseous at the idea of eating and you place it back on the shelf.

You realize that the bottle is missing. She had done exactly what you did the night before. Drank the pain away. You bite the inside of your cheek knowing you and her both were going through discomfort. You grab the unopened bottle of white win out of the door, closing it firmly behind you.

You pour yourself a glass and chug it. You begin to pour another while making a face as you swallow the bittersweet liquid. You walk over to the trash can to throw the foil from uncorking it out, still feeling guilty about not being able to comfort Nayeon. You toss the small frail metal into the can when something familiar catches your eye.

The tattered paper from her wallet lay on top of the empty bottle you were searching for moments ago. The letter ripped in half, one side of it facing you- the signature present in black ink.

Your anger grows when you see it. Remembering that she could have actually betrayed you and here you are being upset that you weren’t there to comfort her? Yeah, okay Y/n.

Your eyes flicker back to the envelope she left for you.

“Nope.” You say out loud. Your phone starts vibrating endlessly so you run over and turn it on silent knowing the amount of notifications you were about to receive.

You grab both the bottle and the glass of wine and head for the couch to get drunk and watch your favorite comfort movie.

—

The first night back, you decided to sleep on the couch and you stayed there for another 2 full days. Only moving to go to the bathroom and get some water. You just allowed your body to rest and recover.

The bed seemed tainted and would probably smell like her, you didn’t want your body to relax into the false sense of safety it had been used to.

You didn’t answer your phone or even look at the notifications. Pretending it did exist and basking in the solitude. By day three you realized people might start to worry about you if you didn’t reply to them. You usually reply pretty quickly so it would be off if you didn’t say something to them.

You filtered through your notifications, answering everyone but Nayeon. Momo had checked in with you and called you a few times leaving voicemails that got more threatening since you weren’t replying. You immediately called her back to let her know you were breathing.

“Thank god you’re okay. I was going to head to your house straight from the airport if I didn't hear from you before we got back!”

“That’s very sweet of you Momo-ssi. I’m doing alright just trying to take it day by day…or minute by minute, rather.”

“I understand. Have you talked to her yet?”

You hesitate to reply. Knowing that you’re avoiding communication with her in fear of what the truth could be. Momo notices this almost immediately and nods her head as if you can see her.

“I take that as a no, then?”

“Yeah…I just- I don’t know, I’m scared of what happens next.”

Momo sighed empathetically.

“Sometimes you just have to take the next step, no matter what it brings.”

You knew she was right so you tried to deflect.

“How is she?” your mouth utters before your brain could catch up.

“She seems off. You can tell she’s doing her best to try to keep it together. Less bubbly. Chaeyoung mentioned your name and she immediately went pale and changed the subject.”

You press your lips together. The back and forth of feeling guilty for not being there for Nayeon and feeling sorry for yourself was getting old and you were exhausted from the strain you've been putting on your nervous system.

“Momo, can I let you go? I guess I have to read these text messages.” you begrudgingly say.

“Yeah, good luck! Call me back if you need to talk about anything okay?” You say your goodbyes and hang up.

No longer ignoring the task at hand, you open your text messages to read the days worth of messages. At first they’re all panicky. A lot of begging for you to answer the phone, a lot them just simply saying your name.

They soon delve into “I miss you”, “I love you”, “Please come home” and “You mean everything to me” texts. A few of them were unintelligible, definitely sent after the wine she consumed.

You see some from the day she left for Japan, asking how the dinner was and if you read the note. A few more I love yous sent throughout the last few days.

You place your phone on the table and run your hands over your face, keeping your fingers over your mouth. You open your voicemails, put your phone on speaker and start to go through the ones from Nayeon. They’re all really hard to listen to. The first few especially.

“Y/n, please answer the phone. We can work through this. It’s not as bad as it seems, I swear. You are the only person I want to be with. Please call me back.” She sobs into the microphone.

Your heart cracks at the shakiness of her voice and the sadness dripping through your phones speaker.

Through the voicemails you can start to hear her words slur. The memory of how you were accepted by her members floods back into your brain again.

However, this time the joy is absent from the flashes of love. Only sorrow sits. The last voicemail she left you was from the morning of the day you came home. More of the same contents, but with sniffles instead of sobs.

You sit for a second to collect yourself. The envelope on the table, patiently waiting for you to rip open it’s seal and explore the contents.

You take a deep breath, picking it up. You slowly run your thumb between where the paper is stuck together, being sure not to damage anything inside. A pink slip of paper is neatly folded inside. You discard the envelope on the table and unfold the bright page and start reading.

“My Love,

I need you to know that you are so important to me. You are my safety. My guiding light. I’ve never felt as loved as I do when I’m with you. Please know that I am sorry for everything and I will explain when I get back. I hope you’re still home when I return.

With all the Love,

Nayeon”

Your heart sinks. What do you mean you’re sorry for everything? What is everything? More questions and no answers.

You pick up your phone and call Momo again to vent about the apology you just received because all of the context is missing. The phone rang once, twice, and the third ring was interrupted with a familiar voice.

“Hi Baby,” You freeze, unsure of where to go from here. You decide to use the emotions you’ve been hiding as courage and ask the questions you’ve been holding onto for the last week.

“How long?” You ask sternly. Silence fills the other side of the phone as you wait patiently for the answer.

“Do you really want to do this right now? Can’t we wait until I get home so we can talk in person?

“No, we are going to do this on my terms. How long?”

Nayeon sighed as you heard a door close through the phone as she separated herself from the rest of Twice.

“...it only happened once…a few years ago…it was a few weeks after you asked me on our first date.” You flinch when her voice cracks. Tears silently spill down your face.

Focusing heavily on the admission of betrayal being told to you. “It hasn’t happened since. I messed up and I realized that. Please know I wouldn’t ever ever do something like that again.”

Your heart is racing, you are feeling your cyclical emotions take control again. Anger, nausea, fear and betrayal dance around your chest as the words spill out of your girlfriend's mouth.

“Why was the note in your wallet?”

“I just switched wallets, it was in the black one I was using last week and I just didn’t throw it away.”

“Nayeon, Who is J?”

A long pause as you wait for her to say the name of the person who helped defile your relationship. She sighs heavily, you can hear her shaking.

“Can we please just talk in person tomorrow when I get back?” she pleads.

“If you’re not going to tell me, I’ll hang up. I don’t need anything else from you besides that information.” Your voice is icy as the shards fly out to hit Nayeon’s chest. This is agonizing for both of you and you aren’t going to wait around for her to decide it’s time. You were the one who got cheated on, not her. You would never do that to her so she is not going to be extended any grace.

“Y/n…” You stay silent waiting for an answer that she is refusing to give.

“I’ll see you around, Nayeon.” You say as you move the phone away from your ear to end the call. You faintly hear her protesting but you hang up without fully hearing what she was trying to say.

You slam your phone down on the coffee table when you feel the adrenaline release, chilling your veins down while your breathing starts to shallow and quicken. You switch your breathing into manual as you try to stop the panic attack before it gets worse.

Long deep breaths only get you so far. Your hands and lips start to tremble as your chest tightens. You feel like you need to stand up and run out of the building but are too light headed from the hyperventilating. You are sure you’d just fall over if you even try to stand.

You catch a glimpse of your phone lighting up from a text message. You life your phone and read who it’s from.

-Momo: I’m sorry, I didn’t see that she grabbed my phone when you called. Are you okay?”

-Momo: Nayeon just walked back into the room crying...

You start to type a response through trembling fingers when another message banner drops down, catching your attention. It’s Nayeon. You read the text to yourself, mouth gaping when you realize this is the information you had asked her for on the phone.

“Oh, You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Take Me Back to Eden - Aqua Regia - Part 3

[fallenangiefnaftrash]

I don’t care about Poppy Playtime that much..buuuuuut. I’m not gonna lie Ch3, was without a doubt, gives the feeling of Dread and major creep factor. And I love this Doggo and Cat

[skellymom]

Possible "Vagabonds" fan fic future excerpt

With a eulogy to "Tiggy" the Space Doggo

For reference, this might possibly fit in a future installment for my ongoing series "Vagabonds" To read for more context:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/738467105361494016/vagabonds?source=share

There is an extremely personal message at the end of the excerpt. Been sitting on this news for several weeks and needed to get it out. Opened my word document to find this excerpt. Had written it MONTHS ago. So here goes:

Warning: Very brief violence and talk of death.

Background: Wrecker and Tech are on the Marauder with the newest group of child refugees they rescued from the Empire. Unfortunately a nosy pirate looking for a bounty reward sneaks aboard. (Hunter and Echo are away on the Dread Beldame with Mad, Sil, and Love.)

The pirate advanced on the crew of the Marauder, pointing his weapon and threatening everyone aboard.  Several of the children started to cry out of fear. 

“Ehh, you’re scarin’ the kids!” Wrecker angrily pushed back. 

The pirate smiled creepily, licking his lips. 

Tech kept his cool, quietly watching the situation.  He looked like he was waiting for...something. 

“Whattaya lookin’ at, ya goggle eyed Gungan?”  The pirate snarled. 

“Your speedy demise.”  Tech sassily quipped. 

The toddler pointed to the dark brindled shadow quietly creeping up behind the pirate, “Tiggeee Goggeee.” 

Tech stoically gave the command: “Ra’mor!” 

She was upon the pirate in a flash. Took him down by the back of his neck, shaking furiously. He didn’t last long. Wrecker grimaced and grabbed the toddler in his arms while pushing the rest of the children behind him, shielding them from the sight. 

“Let slanar!” Tech barked.  

Tiggy released the mangled pirate.  

“Briik laam.” 

Tiggy immediately ran to and healed at Tech’s left side, clacking her pearly teeth excitedly. 

“Jate Tiggy. Wrecker, please dispose of the body immediately. As far away from the ship as possible.” Tech held his hands out for the toddler, which Wrecker dutifully handed over. 

“Awww...I ALWAYS get the dirty work!” 

“Wrecker, you are the best man for this job. Remember, no shallower than 6 feet. We don’t want his companions to find him. Come children...we are safe now.” 

"Tiggy" was based on my Amish rescue "Petunia" I obtained from work. For those of you who don't know, I am a certified veterinary nurse and work at a 24 hour veterinary ER. She came to us sick and injured at 4 WEEKS old.

Attacked by her own mother and possibly needing corrective surgery for necrosis of that wound, it looked dire. The Amish don't spend a lot of money if they don't think they can recoup the investment. Her heavily infected wound burst open all over my scrubs. She was TINY and helpless. I couldn't say no.

We kept her until she was a year: paid for medical care, orthopedic surgery, vaccines, meds, training, spay surgery, the works. Unfortunately, due to her being a high drive Dutch Shepherd, we could not keep her. This breed is known for their mercurial nature and sometimes aggression. I knew there was a VERY slight chance we could keep her, especially with 2 geriatric dogs in the household. She wasn't my first rescue, either. Petunia spent time at a shelter for police and military dogs, and was evaluated for bite work. Unfortunately, she passed from the wave of respiratory "Doggie Covid" that is sweeping the US right now. With some dogs medical treatment works...with some...they don't rally from the infection. We feel sick about this and sadly miss "Looney Petunia."

She now lives on in a galaxy far, far away. Love rescued her and she fiercely defends that Force sensitive teen, their family, and The Batch. She will forever track prey with Hunter, ride on Wreckers shoulders, snuggle with Omega, lay at Crosshair's feet while he polishes his rifle, listen dutifully to Tech's commands...and steal Echo's prosthetics.

She LOVED to watch TV too!

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED OR DROPPED FROM MY TAG LIST, PLEASE MESSAGE ME! Don't just comment as I might miss it. Thanks!!! <3

[arcandoria]

if anything bad happens to dread doggo I'll kill everyone in the room and then myself

[bloedewir]

Thinking about the "Fen'Harel" naming it seems truthful Solas got it as a mockery. A wild animal among Creators, Keepers and Gods. Even Ghilan'nain isn't just a halla but Mother of hallas. I like the idea. Anyhow it still sounds cool and frightening

Yet in dai it was mentioned previous translations could be wrong and it's not a "Dread" Wolf but quite possibly a "Rebel" Wolf (Codex entry: The Rebel God)

Impressive title too. Especially after the Fen'Harel rebellion story revealed in Trespasser DLC. It sounds inspiring and something something but if it's really the Rebel Wolf.. it means disobedience, right?

So. Evanuris called Solas a bad doggo.

Elgar'nan was literally like: hey boy, don't go in dat dayymn watehh I'm o'erhere, don't go you gawn got wehht! ayeeee ain't gun take you howme, awww come ownnn.. he got his daymn feet weht now shit- dawg (original)

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

Since it’s February and the dreaded Valentine’s Day is coming up (no valentines lol) do you have any Valentine’s Day headcannons? Like who would be a pair or what a state would give as a valentines or what they would do together? :)

>:3

NY: would as you to go do parkour with him or go skateboarding or just simply take a walk in Central Park with hot cocoa

Louisiana: he’s taking you to his favorite bar and then taking you to his favorite place in the swamp. y’all probably carve your initials into a tree too (dw about why he has a knife on him just shhhhhhh….)

Texas: Ofc he’s gonna take you horseback riding to his favorite flower field (and his doggos tag along too) so that y’all can watch the beautiful sunset together

Gov: he’s dragging you to the Smithsonian National Museum and then taking you to get drinks and food after (don’t you dare think of even ATTEMPTING to pay)

Mass: he’s going to aggressively throw a heart shaped box of assorted chocolates along with several other gifts through your window at 3am with a note saying "do ya wanna go get dunks in the mornin’….?"

New Jersey: you bet your sweet ass that he’s taking you to go meet the Jersey Devil and you bet your sweet ass that J.D. is gonna give you the shovel talk <3

[akirameta84]

a crack scenario with kuusuke and kusuo

kuusuke going to like. a shady business meeting but its at a dog friendly restaurant. and in exchange for owing his brother a favor he invites him to be disguised as a dog and share the thoughts of the other people with him

at the first mailbox he stopped to sniff on the way there kuusuke thought his brother was just trying very much to blend in

by the 5th he realized kusuo forgot to inform him that his shapeshifting abilities didn't just shapeshift physically, but mental instincts too. and dont get him started on when he realized with dread that other dogs would certainly be a distraction there too

he still gets the job done and transfers thoughts just fine though, which is very interesting to kuusuke because it sure doesnt look like kusuo is there mentally, but he apparently still is while trying to growl at another dog? interesting

and then a drawing i want to do but cant of kuusuke just so tired and holding a leash where kusuo doggo is straining and barking at the end of it. and i like to imagine his dog form to be a snowy white german shepard to mimic his cat form

[moodooivy]

My ship children

I made some headcanons for the Sanses. Now I wanted to list off some of my OCs. More specifically my ship children. I will draw them later. I mean I have, they were the first things I posted. These ship kids are a few years old, I made them maybe 5 years ago. Some of these ships I don't ship anymore, but I've already developed these characters too much to just get rid of them... So... Here.

Midnight 3' 0''. (Technically) Mom is Blue, dad is Error. She has Nightmare's powers because while she was being made or whatever you call it, Nightmare touched her soul before she was fully formed. The oldest even though she's the shortest. She had a birth defect. Loves flowers. Especially lavender and roses. Loves cute animals. Especially bunnies, puppies, and kitties. Her favorite animal is butterflies. Loves squishies and stuffed animals. Loves pancakes and cookies. Likes to write. Writer's brain. Scared of basically everything. Pegasister. I mainly ship with Ivan.

Ivan 4' 4''. Mom is Horror, dad is Dust. Acts like a doggo. Scares his parents. Has a long tailbone that sticks out. Has a good sense of smell. Can probably see in the dark. He is sensitive to smell and particularly dislikes the smell of gunpowder. He never went to school. He can't speak properly and he can't read. He is just by definition slow. He likes to watch cartoons. He'll watch anything on the TV screen. Get very upset when he's hungry. Major separation anxiety. Hates the world. I mainly ship with Midnight.

Chip 3' 5''. Mom is Blue, dad is Error. Nice and plump (Before anyone says "How, she's a skeleton", easy. Ecto body). She likes hugs, but it is just a natural reflex that she glitches out when touched. She hates being stared at and will get angry, even if you just trying to admire her. The stars on her head change shape and color depending on how she feels. I mainly ship with Zany.

Zany 4' 1''. He is made out of pure negativity and magic. He is technically not related to Nightmare. But Night and Cross love and care for him like their child. Zany is the prince of darkness. But he is the complete opposite of Nightmare. Probably the nicest guy you could ever meet. Hates his name. Likes head pats. Loves strawberry milk and the color pink... Good boy. Very strong. Scared of apples. I mainly ship with Chip.

Domino 4' 0''. Mom is Chess, dad is Mafia. Smokes. Good at card tricks. Probably gambles (He cheats and never gets caught). I mainly ship with Honeydew.

Mayonnaise 4' 0''. Mom is Classic, dad is Fell. Very laid back and chill... Except when it comes to Pitaya. Zany's bestie. They do pranks on the Bad Sanses together (Except Nightmare and Dust). Cheeky little prankster. I mainly ship with Pitaya.

Pitaya 3' 8''. Mom is Melon, dad is Sugar. Loves fanfictions and shipping (Like me). Cooks and bakes (Mayo loves her baking and will try to steal it). Can speak Spanish. I mainly ship with Mayonnaise.

Honeydew 3' 6''. Mom is Melon, dad is Sugar. Hates when Domino smokes. Nerdy boy. Can speak Japanese. I mainly ship with Domino.

Constellation 3' 5''. She is made out of pure positivity and magic. She is technically not related to Dream. But Dream loves and cares for her like his child. Spoiled brat. Not a good person. Mini karen. Will start a fight with anyone. I mainly ship with Casper.

Casper 4' 0''. Mom is Dust, dad is Killer. Bipolar disorder. Tiny little prick. Scared of dogs. Hates Ivan and will take advantage of his lack of intellect. The only two people he cares about are his sister and Constellation. I mainly ship with Contellation.

Desire 3' 4'' Mom is Lust, dad is Dance. Trans M2F. Dramaqueen. Loves ballet. Wears makeup. Obsessed with her phone. Very sensitive about her identity. I mainly ship with Abstract.

Dread 3' 3'' Mom is Geno, dad is Reaper. Goth queen. Has a pet jellyfish. Has the death touch. In a book club with Zany and Midnight. Loves voodoo and poetry. I mainly ship with Scarlet.

Scarlet 3' 3'' Mom is Killer, dad is Horror. Loves tea parties. Will eat anything. Has a pet spider. Spoopy bean. She is teaching Ivan how to speak from what she's learning at school. She's not the smartest but she tries her best so she can help Ivan. She don't like clowns. I mainly ship with Dread.

Abstract 6' 0''. Has no parents. They are just a drawing came to life. The youngest but tallest (This is in birth order btw). They have no gender (I will usually refer to them as 'he' as to not be confusing by constantly saying 'they' though). Likes drawing their friends (Hasn't gotten to draw Chip yet because she refuses to stay still). Can't talk because they don't have a mouth. Their pupils shape into words that fit what they're thinking. Doesn't like profanity or technology. Collects random stuff. Likes creepy crawlies. Hate cleaning up. Scared of erasers. I mainly ship with Desire.

I didn't assign sexualities or ages to my characters because I didn't want to restrict myself or anyone who wants to use them. You can change their heights and age order if you want. You can ship them with whoever you want, proship or not. You can do whatever you want with my characters. Just credit me.

Undertale: Toby Fox Blue: Popcornpr1nce Fell: Undertale community Ink: Comyet Dream: Jokublog Nightmare: Jokublog Geno: Crayonqueen Error: Crayonqueen Fresh: Crayonqueen Horror: Sour-Apple-Studios Killer: Rahafwabas Dust: Ask-Dusttale Lust: Nsfwshamecave Reaper: Renrink Cross: Jakei95 Melon: Missladytale Sugar: Sugartale Sans Dance: Teandstars Mafia: Undermafiaz Chess: Mintysammy Children: Me

[dark-elf-writes]

I know a tiny handful of things about Dragon Age but...

Aren't dreams some kind of nightmare spirit world of doom that all mages can tap into instead of actually getting sleep and risk getting possessed by demons because something something plot reasons? And ignoring the possibility of Mist since that might be an Earth only thing, how would Demigods interact with the Dreamrealm?

Could Percy body demons? Could Nico actually enter that realm via shadowtravel? (I don't actually remember Nico's abilities and might be conflating it with the hellhound doggo.)

Technically everyone — except dwarves who don’t dream — go to the Fade when they sleep and only mages remember (without outside influence anyway) but mages can manipulate it even in the waking world to cast spells. It’s also where spirits, demons, and the dead (? Spirits who think they are people who died? Memories of people who left ripples in the fabric of reality itself?Unclear. Perhaps all of the above.) are. Demons want in the real world and mages are the ticket in so they get hounded/tempted/etc.

Or at least that an extremely basic overview from the parts I remember/understood.

BUT since mist is technically magic it might be held back by the veil like the rest of the fade so all of the demigod weirdness can be seen by everyone.

Nico has the worst of it. With his specific skill set it’s like being right next to a jet engine without ear protection. It’s the worst before the breach is closed and the fade is leaking into the waking world, but even after he still has a harder time with it than the others. He can however still control the dead even if spirits/demons decide to take the bodies for a joyride in places where the veil is thin. Shadow travel is an interesting and potentially terrifying idea in this crossover that I would need tot think about more.

Annabeth is on the other end of the spectrum. She doesn’t feel it as much as the others do but she’s still leagues above where the average mage is in Thedas.

Percy could and frequently does body demons. So does Thalia. All of them know better than to take any suspicious deals… though proximity to the Dread Wolf himself probably helps lessen all the demons coming to check them out what with the whole hole in the veil thing going on.

Grover is the only one I’m not sure on. He’s a monster technically so he’s not the same as the others. Maybe he’s more closely related to spirits and that’s his connection to the fade? Still deciding.

[dollsonmain]

Hehehehehe second bath for doggo

Why second bath?

Because tangled hair hides dirt.

Also discovered the head comes off super easily which is great because the insides were nasty...

Very cute.

-

In some good news, all three transparent ponies cleaned up beautifully. They're still stinky, though.

I did manage to pop a bunch of heads off that I was struggling with yesterday. All that are left to get open, now, are the babies. I'm dreading that. Baby ponies are so hard to get the heads off of.

[delta-queerdrant]

Cut the crap, Hamlet! My biological clock is ticking, and I want babies NOW! (Elogium, s2e4)

I get the sense that "Elogium" is an episode that viewers find embarrassing. Maybe I am just projecting my adolescent feelings onto the internet consensus. It is certainly somewhat hamfisted, but it also belongs to a genre that we might call "reproductive health body horror" and, like... I'm kind of into it?

The premise of the episode is, of course, that space alien radiation causes Kes to enter estrus. (Unaccountably the Ocampan word for this is "elogium," which is a real Latin word for something else. Okay guys!)

Let's get the "bad science fiction watch" out of the way: Ocampan reproduction makes no sense from a population biology point of view. If an Ocampan couple can only reproduce once, they need to have a multiple pregnancy to maintain population levels, not the single child Neelix seems to be contemplating. (Also, having kiddos at age five means that grandparents would often not be around to participate in elogium rituals, as the Ocampan lifespan is 9.)

Additionally, it's hard to know what to make of the revelation that Kes hasn't reached "puberty" yet. The show seems to be decoupling intellectual/emotional maturity from reproductive capacity, but we are left with some very awkward questions about Kes's relationship with Neelix. Like, sex aside, what does romance mean for a young Ocampa? This show doesn't dare ask the question, such is its fragile allo/amatonormativity.

Still, I thought Jennifer Lien's performance was strong - emotional and a little weird while still respecting her character's personhood. In an important scene (one that frames her relationship with the Doctor as a parent/child one, thank god), she questions whether she wants a kid and makes a self-affirming decision that I loved to see, though I wish it had been dramatized more fully.

And, like, occasionally, having a uterus does make you feel like you're in a dirt-eating fever dream. I don't know if the alien physiology metaphor will work for everyone but I sorta dug it.

Neelix is, of course, trash in this episode, with the return of his jealousy subplot, his dreadful gender essentialism, and the extremely cliched portrayal of him as a reluctant father. His "should I be a dad" dilemma is fundamentally relatable, but instead of showing a real dialogue between a couple that's been avoiding the question, he and Kes start the episode with gender normative beliefs (she wants a baby, he wants adventure) and switch positions after some extremely light self-reflection. They're never on the same page, and they don't make the decision together.

On a happier note, this one's shippy! The episode starts with Janeway and Chakotay having one of their ridiculous whisper-conversations on the bridge. People are (shock!) hooking up and they need to decide what to do about it. This is very weird and silly because both Starfleet and the Maquis seem cool with fraternization, and they're 70,000 light years from home. Surely there is not even a conversation to be had, other than a need for some policies and mental health supports around breakups? But we do get Chakotay asking his extremely impertinent question about Janeway's personal dating plans, and the introduction of the Janeway chastity vow.

It makes sense for Janeway not to date crewmembers, especially in light of her commitment to Mark (this episode was originally slated for season one). But what about Chakotay? He is also everyone's boss?? I think that even in the 23rd century people should still not date their bosses, but this show does not seem to know this and it bums me out, particularly because of the gendered double-standard here.

(Mollie watch: Janeway is looking at a Mark/Mollie photo in the final scene. The show wants us to believe she's pining for her man, but honestly I think the baby talk is just making her miss her doggo. In my head canon Janeway is the type of person who responds to all child-rearing anecdotes with stories about her dog.)

Ensign Wildman, and her pregnancy, are also introduced, and we get another J & C scene where Janeway affirms the crew's right to have kids (hashtag reproductive justice) and contemplates the possibility of becoming a generation ship (whoa, slow down, lady! Like, of all the ethical questions about having kids while space marooned, assuming they'll continue your mission for you is quite a leap!)

Tuvok's line "It appears we have lost our sex appeal, Captain," sums this one up: despite all the innuendo, this is a very unsexy episode, and I think that's by design. Family planning is often unsexy! I just wish it had gotten a little closer to contemplating the real issues that emerge from our dual natures as people with bodies and people with agency over those bodies, and the push and pull of figuring out what that means for us, individually and in relationship.

3/5 bowls of mashed potatoes with butter (a Terran delicacy!)

[flowerandblood]

Your doggo and mine are alike!

Same single brown ear haha

BEAUTIFUL! That was my best friends doggy, I don't have my own now, because my allergic got much worse. When I was child I had my own beloved white dread. 😭

My sweet Saba 😭😭😭 It's more than 10 years since she is in doggy heaven 😞😞😞

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

The Plan - a Malevolent fic

It's time for the plan.

It's time to make a certain brother regret his hubris.

It's time for the Keeper to use her vast and unending experience in warfare to... wait, what?

Part of the Surrogate series.

NOTE: There's another few Keeps who are insanely skilled fighters and who would sooner stab a bitch than talk to them. This is not that Keeps.

AO3

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

The Keeper was in a mood. A good mood. A confident mood. She’d used tools at hand, resolved a potentially stressful problem, and exuded confidence.

That meant it was time to strike.

#

“Soooo,�� said Kayne, appearing beside Tabby, arms crossed, head down, decked out in a wide-brimmed hat and trench coat. “You got the goods? Oh, wait, you don’t, I haven’t given them to you yet.” And he held out a tiny bag.

It looked like a little leather coin-purse, cinched with a leather cord, no wider than the palm of her hand.

A series of emotions flickered across Tabby’s face—confusion, dread, and finally, acceptance. “You’re not very good at this,” she said flatly. “Not even going to try and pass me it subtly? Tuck the bag in your palm and shake my hand? Nothin’?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said, tossing it up and down and offering it again. “Don’t open it, of course.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Not gonna hurt Keeps. Or her library. Or any of her people.”

“No, no,” he said, and his smile was horrifying, bright, delighted, like his teeth secretly hid flash bulbs. “This will literally only bother him. I’ve made sure of it.” The grin grew even brighter, somehow casting the rest of his face in vague shadow. “He’s not the only one with a super special pwcious fucking lab. ”

Tabby took it. “So do I like… blow it in his face or something?”

He smiled. “Got it in one. I’m going to talk to your… roooom…friieee…” He waved his hands. “We both know who. This’ll be coordinated. See, little Tabifer, he absolutely knows you want to hurt him. Like. You get that, right? He knows when he says shit, it’s driving you crazy and you want to gnaw on his face.”

“I would hope so. Otherwise my psychic assaults have been for nothing,” Tabby said, completely deadpan.

“Ha! So the thing is? The thing is? He has no fucking concept what you are,” said Kayne. “None. Your freedom of will here, your choices? He doesn’t get it.  He really, truly thinks you only haven’t done something incredibly stupid because your owner has you chained.” And he laughed. And it was not a nice laugh, a cruel laugh, hardly as sharp as his usual insanity; this one just felt weirdly mean, like Ialdagorth’s misunderstanding was just entertaining.. 

Tabby’s mouth drew into a tight, thin line.

“I mean,” he added. “It’s not like most of us have got anyone who’s free to do whatever they want. You are kind of unusual, Tabifer.”

She paused, processing that for a moment. “Am I just unusual amongst god-pets, or unusual amongst Tabbies?” she said finally, gaze sharp.

He waved a hand. “Oh, all the Tabbies are fun. Some of them are real nasty. There’s one who fucking replaced her finger bones with knives? Not super practical—but we’re getting off-topic. You’re unusual in this universe, as one who is beloved by an Outer God. We don’t generally keep pets.” That horrible smile again. “You’re too fragile. Too… ugh. Emotive. We play with you from a distance, and that’s that. Great Old Ones keep pets, but they’re practically doggos themselves.” 

“Hm. Hate that,” Tabby said. “So Gorthy thinks I’m on par with the average tarantula, then. Possibly even less dangerous… Let’s go with the average stick bug.”

“He assumes his wovewy sistah won’t let you do anything… untoward.” He tilted his head. “But you’re gonna. What’s more, she’s going to let you. Encourage you. It’s going to incense him.”

This did not sound safe. 

“Okay,” Tabby said, brow furrowing. “So… to Keeps, this will be a harmless little fun thing. For Gorthy, it’ll be miserable. Yeah?”

His sigh was messy, billowing his cheeks. “Okay, look. If we wanted it to be the most effective, we’d just surprise her. Then, when Gorthypoo lunges for you—”

“Knew it,” Tabby muttered. “Oh, she’s going to be fucking pissed at that.”

“Buuuut,” he said, “I feel like maybe we’ve already used up what she’s got left of patience for the month? So we’re going to have to bring her in. You strike. He tries to strike back. She stands up for you and kicks his ass out. I promise you, he won’t return. This will be a blow to the pride. This will force him to see she’s nothing like him, at all. I mean, I don’t think either of you care if he thinks you’re shitty people.”

“I’m human. He already thinks I’m shitty,” Tabby said, frowning. “But Keeps… look. This is the best way to do this, yeah? She’s gonna be at least a little upset about it.”

He shrugged. “It’s the way that works. It’s the way that will guarantee he goes. His pride, babe. That’s his biggest weakness.” He paused, and said with grave dignity, “Like the balls.”

The corner of her mouth quirked, just a little bit. “Fine,” she said, playing disinterested, playing bored and not nervous even a little bit. “This had better work.”

Kayne’s real smile was not big. It was not showy. It was a sneer; it was bitter, angry, cruel. He did it now. “Pretty sure she’ll get to you on time. So! I’m gonna go talk to her now. Mmkay? Don’t. Open. The bag.” And he vanished with a poof of purple glitter she’d probably have to clean up.

#

The Keeper hummed to herself as she sorted a pile of new acquisitions to the Scriptorium, a half-dozen arms clutching the books and scrolls as she meandered amongst her shelves. She stopped at the poetry section, fingertips skipping over the shelves as she found the slot she was looking for, checked her alphabetization, and a perfectly sized space appeared for the book as the shelf gently rearranged itself. She added her new acquisition, placing it perfectly in line with the others, noting to herself that she’d been letting this place go as one finger dragged an almost imperceptible line through the finest coating of dust imaginable.

Kayne just waited. It’s not like she didn’t know he was there.

The coat and hat were gone. He looked almost drab. Almost… serious.

“Hello, brother,” the Keeper said as she turned to him, genuinely pleasant, cheerful. “Oh. You seem to be in a poor mood today. Is it something I can help with?”

“Yep. Doll, I got news for you,” he said. “You did it. The plan’s ready to go. Slingshot's pulled back. Just all depends on whether you’re ready to be done with your horse’s ass of a sibling—and I don’t mean me, for once.”

For a moment, the Keeper went very still. “What about the plan?” she said, voice vaguely hurt. “Did I mess it up?”

“Naw, babe, this is the plan. That trap’s ready to spring—but only if you’re ready and willing. The bait, after all, is Tabby.” 

He had to know that wouldn’t go well. “Absolutely not,” the Keeper said in a tone that invited no argument.

Kayne looked mildly surprised! And it was totally genuine, too. “What, you can’t keep her safe?”

For a brief moment, the edges of the Keeper’s form… blurred, or flaked apart, or glitched. “I absolutely can keep her safe,” she said, voice a warning. “But I don’t like to tempt fate.”

“How about making her happy?” he said. “Our brother is a raging asshole… but Tabster has, in her hands right now, something that will actually hurt him. It gives her the chance to do damage—which she desperately wants to do—while giving you the chance to make it clear that the asshole’s invite is revoked, and you are not the person he thinks you are."

The Keeper said nothing.

Kayne frowned slightly. "We’re doing it here. Your territory. She’s safe. Even I couldn’t keep her that safe. Well. Not in a way she’d like.”

The Scriptorium let out a groan, deep, and for a moment the light changed, growing dim, threatening; just as quickly it returned to normal.

“I don’t like this,” she said, bowing her head. “But… that means he’ll never come back?”

“Oh, he’ll definitely never come back. He’s going to be embarrassed. Not really hurt, not really, but humiliated. And, as I said, he’ll know you’re not like him. He would have killed a mere servant who interfered the way Tabby plans to.”

“She’s not a servant,” the Keeper muttered, more to herself than anything. “But… you’re right. If this is what we have to do, it’s better we end it now. The trap is set and I can wash my hands of this.” She let out a long sigh. “Kayne?”

“Yeah?” No affectionate nicknames. He really was serious.

“What… what do I do if I need to fight?” She’d gone very still again. 

He did an actual doubletake. “If?”

“I’ve never fought anyone before.”

Kayne’s jaw dropped. He stared at her for a moment. “Oh,” he said, and seemed to think. “Oooh, ” he said again, and did a thing she’d never seen him do before: he blushed. “I thought you’d… yeah. Shit. Okay. That's gonna make this wild.” A pause. “So, uh. Wanna spar?”

#

The Scriptorium shuddered.

It was like explosions so far away, like something that couldn’t possibly hurt the place, but… the place sure as fuck shook. A few books rattled. Nothing fell out of place. The lights flickered once.

Another boom, far and frightening and ineffectual. And then—unexpectedly—the Keeper laughed.

Three more booms, one after the other, and silence.

Kayne and the Keeper appeared in the armchairs, looking put-together and fresh, like they hadn’t just been utterly destroying some space the Keeper had put together. 

The Keeper looked happy. Several of her arms were out, hands fidgeting, and her skirts seemed just ridiculously fluffy.

“Not bad,” he said. “Gonna have to go again, though, before you really get the hang of it. I, uh. Thought you’d. Done that. Before.”

He still looked embarrassed.

“How did I do?” she asked, hands wringing.

“Not bad,” he said again, and didn't call her on the repetition. “Really not at all. But asshole’s on his way. So. Take it easy. When Tabster loses it, and he moves, don’t do anything fancy. Just react. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, smoothing herself down, bringing herself back in. “...Okay. Thank you.”

“Sure.” Definitely embarrassed. He hopped to his feet and winked. “Give him hell.” And poof—he was gone.

Ialdagorth was definitely coming.

He liked to make a sort of entrance, and while that wasn’t bad (Kayne did, and Hastur did), Ialdagorth tended to make his… damaging. He would try to crack the floor, or fill the air with static. Make assistants’ ears bleed “by accident,” or sit in such a way that he stained the chairs. 

It wasn’t a game. He was a bully. He showed all the psychological signs.

The rightmost chair vanished, replaced with another; Kayne refused to share his, and that was all right.

The presence approached.

Tabby emerged from behind a bookshelf, face grim, taking one moment to sidle up to the Keeper and slip her hand in one of the god’s. “It’s gonna be fine,” she said quietly, giving the Keeper’s hand a squeeze. “I got this.”

“Be careful,” the Keeper said.

Tabby grinned. “I got you on my side, don’t I?”

And with abominable timing, he arrived.

Still in his stupid Dickensenian wear, which somehow mocked hers, like he was playing a game, donning a costume, patronizing. “There is my lovely sister!” he boomed, and sat in the chair with such force that he broke half its springs for no reason. “Have you heard the latest?”

Tabby glared at him, gave the Keeper’s hand a squeeze, and stepped away; not far, just enough to watch, to wait, to plan.

“No,” the Keeper sighed, her shoulders sagging; the hand that Tabby had held flexed, as if missing that contact. “I don’t suppose I have. What are you referring to, brother?”

Ialdagorth looked so happy. “More developments! I do love when the little mortal things change so rapidly in response to events, don’t you? It’s fascinating! Not always predictable, either, which—I think—makes them worth keeping around for a while longer.”

The Keeper stilled, head twisting towards him. “What do you mean?”

He leaned forward with that cruel smile, his muttonchops almost bristling. “I heard that the Saint has fallen from his shrine.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tabby snapped.

“Tabby,” the Keeper said, a warning, playing the game. “Brother, I don’t understand.”

He clapped his hands and leaned back, evidently gleeful. “Of course, it’s all second-hand,” he said. “I’m hearing that he’s no longer smiling at people. That he’s even stopped his usual wandering, just watching everything. I heard he’s begun instead to overwork his body, as if he could ever possibly become strong enough to defeat any of the beings around him. An utterly useless activity by someone who’s usually very smart—which I find absolutely fascinating! Do you think he’s experienced a brain-chemistry change with recent events? I wonder.”

“They have dealt with much since the attack,” the Keeper said, voice hot. “You—”

“Don't fucking talk about our friends like that,” snarled Tabby, stalking forward just a touch. The bag, tiny, fit in her palm perfectly, like it was made for her hand alone.

Ialdagorth gave Tabby the same passing glance he’d always given her: dismissive, mildly surprised as if her ability to talk was some kind of achievement. “Yes, yes,” he said to the Keeper, resuming.

“No,” Tabby said, cold, moving forward again; another step, a slightly better angle. “No, I'm fucking done with you. Get the fuck out.”

He actually blinked at her. Paused. Then looked toward the Keeper. “Shall we resume elsewhere, perhaps? I know you’ll just love the latest. The little piece, as I said, doesn’t seem to grow, but it does seem to be changing, as well. Needs a different host, in my opinion, but I suppose we’ll have to see how that plays out. Alas! None of it is in my hands,” he said with the smarmiest, shittiest, not-even-trying-to-seem-honest smile.

“Nuh-uh,” Tabby said, firmly planting herself between the two of them. “I'm done being fucking nice to you. I'm not telling you again. Get. Out.”

The smile faded. He turned to Tabby. “My dear sister, is this your first uprising? Shall I show you how to quell it? It’s very simple, really. One has quite a bit of trouble back talking without a mouth.” 

In one swift motion Tabby opened the bag and threw the contents into his face.

He should have avoided it, been able to dodge, to deflect, but the raw shock (angry, aghast, offended) froze him long enough for it to hit. Rainbow sparkles splashed into him, far more than the little pouch could have contained, but they didn’t bounce off. Each and every one suddenly lit and began spinning like some mad firework, digging in.

Ialdagorth howled and leaped up, his human guise shredding, his real form melting into something huge, horrible, mind-bending, dangerous—

The floor of the Scriptorium exploded.

Wood arced upward like claws, like ribs, like a cage; the whole floor shuddered and shifted, acolytes sequestered away. Tabby found herself swept away behind the Keeper’s skirts so fast that her hair blew back.

“You shit!”  the self-proclaimed smartest of the gods roared, causing distant assistants to cry out, causing the armchairs to bleed, and he tried to reach around the Keeper.

The Keeper spread her arms wide, joints cracking. She had no legs to brace against, but her fingers dug like claws into his hide and she twisted, trying to do the suplex Kayne had taught her.

Ialdagorth slid violently into into the jagged spikes of their cage. He snarled.

The Keeper snarled back, a sound that rattled the windows. “I DO NOT ENJOY VIOLENCE,” she growled, the edges of her form bleeding into the air like ink into water. “BUT I WILL EMPLOY IT, IF NECESSARY.”

He moved as she spoke as if she hadn’t at all, assuming, reaching. For Tabby.

“YOU WILL NOT!” The Keeper slammed into him, dozens of arms anchoring themselves, wrenching him away; distant shouts echoed in the Scriptorium, rattling.

“Keeps!” Tabby screamed, somewhere else, somewhere safe.

“THAT IS ENOUGH! THEY ARE MINE! SHE IS MINE, AND YOU HAVE OVERSTAYED YOUR WELCOME. BE GONE!”

In one fell swoop Ialdagorth twisted, arms becoming claws becoming knives, and he twisted them deep into her veil and pulled.

A gasp. “DON'T!”

Reality tore.

#

The Keeper could not “leave” her Scriptorium. This was technically true. 

But the Keeper was more than a library, more than a space, more than a simple, restricted being even like Outer Gods. She was on every string, was every string, was everything she knew, everything she’d learned, including the places that knowledge came from.

She had power. She had never been more aware of it, in this moment, standing against this truly wicked, disgusting sibling. She had it… 

And had no fucking clue how to use it.

Ialdagorth knew. Ialdagorth had known for so long, had had the time to learn his strength and the weight of himself, and for all his vows of fealty, threw all he had at her now with vicious and thoughtless speed just because he wanted to hurt her human so badly.

The Keeper had the power. She felt it. But it lay beneath her, inside her, around her, wrapped in the bones of the Scriptorium and frustratingly inert, and she could not discover in this moment how to make it rise. She feared. Had it been only her, just her, the Keeper might have faltered—but it wasn’t just her.

This bastard wanted Tabby, and he would not have her.

Power stretched and flailed and popped, exploding like overfilled balloons and spilling all over the void. They tumbled through the little gaps in reality that he’d rent open, glimpses of places from memory. And oh, she remembered, and reached, and felt without thinking not just for something that could stop him but more crucially something that would, because she loved Kayne but he wasn’t reliable, and she respected Shub-Niggurath but that one would choose her children first, and that left only one option, one way, one path: a door shown to her by one who had no idea what he’d given, who’d traded priceless impossible knowledge out of desperation for his own.

The Keeper reached for the dead universe, the empty place, the branch that had been stripped of all leaves and capillaries, and into which no sane god would ever go.

The Keeper was many things. Sane had never been one. When he saw them—

The one remaining deified thing, alone in power and not wishing to be, teeth-grit discipline in place so he would not harm his love—

When he saw them, saw them puncture through (and Ialdagorth would never come here on his own ), he knew, at once, he knew, he KNEW, and reacted as the Keeper hoped he would.

(Because she knew, she knew, she KNEW, as much as anything, how he would respond to cruel and wicked bullying.)

The Archivist—the void–starved being who was once a nerdy, frightened man, who’d always responded unthinkingly to the beaten-down, who’d thrown himself into hell to save a woman who’d cut his throat, who’d become all-encompassing hunger and the need to see— saw the Keeper, whom he recognized, being harmed by another.

And he responded.

Jon! Someone shouted, far away and too small to be found. Ialdagorth screamed. The Keeper screamed.

The Archivist pulled back, a chunk of universe in his invisible maw, a hole chomped right out of the bully who had followed the Keeper to a place she came for aid.

Ialdagorth let go, tumbled away.

The Keeper’s consciousness tumbled back into herself, into her Scriptorium, and she was whole but had blood from her traitorous brother all over, and knew he was far from dead, and knew he would not stay away just because of this, and knew she had saved Tabby’s precious and most individual life.

The Keeper collapsed in a pile of arms and silk and veils on top of her human-special-person, remembering to burn away the ichor in time, and all she could do was sob.

#

Kayne crouched near. He wore dark sunglasses, hiding his eyes, and wasn’t turned quite toward them. He was silent. Still.

Fuck him. Tabby had things to do. “I got you,” she kept saying, arms deep in warm, shuddering fabric as she held the Keeper. “Are you hurt?”

“She’s not hurt,” said Kayne.

“Shut up. You and your stupid fucking plan —”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

Tabby hugged tighter. More arms appeared to hold her back.

“It worked, though. He’s not coming back,” said Kayne.

“You don’t know that,” Tabby growled.

“I do.” Kayne still hadn’t moved. “She trounced him. First, she held him off at his absolute worst, taking no damage, which spooked him. Then she took him somewhere he didn’t fucking want to go. Then he got bit. He’s not coming back.”

Tabby swallowed hard, stroking the head buried against her chest. “Keeps, come on. Talk to me. I need to know: are you hurt?”

The Keeper sniffled. “I was so scared.”

Kayne sighed again. “Yeah.”

“Fucking hell,” Tabby muttered. “This had better have worked.”

“We,” the Keeper managed, the sound half buried in a sob. “We did it?”

“You did it.” Kayne cracked his neck, but stayed squatting, still not looking at them. “You did a lot better than you should’ve, given no fucking experience.” 

“You knew that, and you still fucking did this plan?” Tabby snapped.

“Tabby,” said the Keeper, so quietly. “He… he's trying.”

The girl glared daggers, trembling just a little at how he might respond.

He still wasn’t looking at them. A shrug.

“Not good enough,” said Tabby.

“I forgot she hadn’t fought, all right?” said Kayne. “It’s not usual for her. Normal. But I knew she had this anyway, and she did! She’s just scared, not hurt, so put the attitude away or you will lose it!”

“Please don't fight,” the Keeper said, voice tiny.

Tabby tucked some part of the god under her chin and shut her eyes. “Sorry,” she muttered. A concession.

Kayne said nothing at all. A concession, too.

“It's alright, big brother.” The Keeper sighed. “You do not have to be embarrassed. I know you have… a lot. On your plate. And I am glad you could trust me.” She sniffled again. “It was really hard.”

“You promise he’s not gonna come back,” said Tabby.

“Oh, I already sealed up all his little pathways even near this place,” said Kayne, moving right along, which in his fucked-up way, was an acknowledgement of blame. “You’re safe.”

The Keeper sniffled again. She’d settled a bit, shrunk more, so it felt more like a trunk of lace dropped into Tabby’s lap and less like drowning in a satin sea. “As long as Tabby is safe.”

“Like I said,” said Kayne, who didn’t like to repeat himself, but wasn’t bringing that up for some reason. “He won’t go after either of you. What you threw embarrassed the fuck out of him; that guise will literally never work for him again. And he got bit. Hard. Now stop asking and making me say that.”

“Yes, big brother. Thank you.” The Keeper shuddered.

Tabby curled down over the Keeper. “That guy,” she muttered, and it could’ve been about either brother.

“Had fun, though, right?” said Kayne.

“For fuck’s sake!” Tabby snapped.

“Come on. Come ooon. Gotta admit it. On some level, now that there’s nothing on the line, you’ve gotta admit you had a little fun.”

Very small, the Keeper said, “It… was not horrible.”

“It was fun. Say you had fun.”

“Leave her alone,” Tabby mumbled, fight deflated.

“I… I do not know. It was all so… it was so much.”

Kayne still didn’t turn toward them. His sunglasses remained black, impenetrable, but with a flickering around the edges, barely there, a hint of something terrible. “Sure.” He stood.

“Where are you going?” squeaked the Keeper.

“Stuff.”

“Good riddance,” Tabby mumbled into the closest of the Keeper’s veils.

“Don’t go yet?” the Keeper said, her voice small. “Please?”

He crouched back down. “You’re lucky I like you,” he said.

“Thank you,” the Keeper said

The urge to flip him off nearly overtook Tabby, but she resisted. It wouldn’t be wise, right now. Not when he wore no smile at all.

After a while, the rhythm of the Scriptorium picked up again. Assistants emerged from their hidey-holes and resumed work in the stacks, quietly talking, comparing notes; carts with things to be cataloged and shelved made their way past. More than a few peeked, asking wordlessly if they were needed, fearful of Kayne, but loving their god.

Tabby waved them on each time. “I got this,” she said to one, and word seemed to spread.

The Keeper’s sniffles slowed, stopped. “You know,” she said softly. “It was fun. I was still here, of course, but I… wasn’t, at the same time. I did not know I could do that.” She sat up. “And I got to let him know exactly how I felt about him.” This sniff was imperious.

“Good for you,” said Tabby.

The Keeper still didn’t know what to make of the power she’d seen and felt all around her, as if she were wrapped, cocoon-like, in herself. It was there; it was hers. She could feel it, tied into the bones of her Scriptorium, like limbs she didn't realize she had, powering the wards and bindings that kept her safe. 

That kept her trapped. 

Someday, it would respond to her call. Softly, she said, “I almost hope he does come back so he can find himself trounced once more.” She turned.

Kayne was gone, but in his place was a small, elegant tea set she’d never seen before, and she gasped. It was a rich, purple chrysanthemum color, carved from some kind of stone, every piece unique, every piece textured with dragon bodies or balanced on dragon feet, and it sat on a rich jade tray.

A note lay beside it. Tabby grabbed it up. “‘A sixteen-piece carved ruby matrix tea set,’” she read, “‘with dragon motif, eighteen karat gold v… vermeil?”

“A kind of gilding using fine silver along with a layer of gold at least 10 karats thick,” said the Keeper, leaning in with interest.

“Sure. ‘Vermeil mountings and accents, a covered teapot with a carved dragon inside—’”

The Keeper grabbed the pot at once and took off the lid to see.

“‘—chocolate or water pot, creamer, four claw-footed shallow dishes, four tea cups of slightly varied dragons forms—’”

The Keeper was inspecting the little tea-cups, one in each hand; all were unique.

“‘—a wide scoop, slim scoop, tweezers, carved dragon centerpiece, and a thick ruby... uh, zoisite freeform slab tray.’ Damn, that’s a mouthful, what the hell. Oh—it says the artist is Luis Alberto Quispe Aparicio?”

“Peruvian, twentieth century,” said the Keeper with delight, inspecting the dragon centerpiece. “Oh, I love it! I love it so much!”

Tabby sighed and shook her head. “Guess you’re right. Sort of an apology.”

“More than I expected! Look at the dragon inside the pot!” She showed her human.

Tabby laughed. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty sweet.”

The Keeper hugged the teapot.

“Come on, dork, let’s at least use it,” said Tabby.

“We shall,” the Keeper announced, and used the set for the next six weeks straight.

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

Notes:

So that crazy tea set exists and sold for uuuuh Hot damn Anyway, here's a picture, taken by I.M. Chait at the link above.