voidwritesstuff

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ovulation aka the fifth horseman of the apocalypse

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@alexatheris-44

transgender snacks

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@alexatheris-44 @darkdemeter

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@alexatheris-44 anathem?

I am looking neither respectfully nor disrespectfully. I gaze without recognition of your form, and without understanding.

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@alexatheris-44 us with AC.

god this scene i haven’t written would be so emotional if it came with 50k words of context i also haven’t written

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Shark infected halls.

Cw:mentions of needles, Adam is a horrible person. Experimenting on people (teens),sedatives.

Summary: Adam's meeting with his lead researchers.

>my ocs belong to me,so do their worlds,Names, and everything portrayed and shown in this fic!

The golden halls are empty,warm light that only mimics the hearth of the Fire. Long,red courtains that are well closed,hiding anything behind the art deco Windows. The long floor is made of beautiful marble with geometric patterns that form the symbol of the city of Unitas.

The sound of the sea's endless dronning is deafening. An endless nothing of sea bed and kelp all around,no animals dared thread nearby the sunken city,drowned in dark malice.

Steps echo,slow and sharp as a daggers blade.

Adam walks down with his hands behind his back,holding his chin up with smug pride. Clad in blood red he walks,the smell of iron might follow in his wake. He offers a sharkish smile of sharp fangs at the servant that is trying his best to clean the already shinnig floor.

--My- my King!--He bowed,holding the mop with shaking hands.

The King nodds,still that menacing,joyless smile on his lips. The creases of his face makes his rose colored marks look like splatters of crimson.

--Mr. Seaglass,dilligent as always-- he returns his gaze to the end of the Hall with this smooth movement of his head,and walks past the looming arch with the symbol of the city. He leaves the servant with shaky breath and kneeling to return to calmness.

Up the stairs he goes to his Office, a large golden door with heavy knocker rings. It shows a large shark looming down towards the handles. He smiles with pride and nodds to himself before pushing one of the Doors Open.

His shadow spills large and looming over the woman and Man sitting infront of the dark wooden desk in the style of the roaring 20s.

--Doctor Erudite, Doctor Acheron,good afternoon.

Both see the shadow,the way his fingers tap against the entrance and they can almost see the smile on the shadows face. He taps the door,stalling, reveling in the tension filled silence. He can smell the pumping of their blood, the scent of fear.

--My King.. --Doctor Flavia Erudite answered with a voice that tried not to waver as she spoke-- good afternoon indeed.

Satisfied with the answer,he opens the door fully and steps it. The entrance closes as he steps in,and the lights turn on as he walks,slow and still oh so smug and regal. He looks at the lead scientists with a look of hunger yet so uninterested. A meal,simply,no matter the kind.

He sits on the tall back rest chair,almost a mini throne. He puts his hands together and leans in on his elbows. He looks at the papers on his desk and nodds.

--How are the subjects?-- he asked,taking the report of Esteban Acheron,and reading it.

--The vessels should be inhabitable within the Next two weeks,as asked-- Esteban tried hard not to stutter as he spoke,he dared not meet the Kings gaze-- Vessel Lock and vessel Fang are on the final stages of getting used to their powers. Vessel fang shows resistance,her strength might prove a threat to the staff.

Adam dismissed it as if it was a mere annoying fly.

--Up her sedative's dose. So long as they Keep her docile and not affect the compounds effects-- He answered,gaze moving across the words.

--Thats the thing,my King,Shes been proving resistant to the sedatives. These things should be able to knock out a horse.

The Kings eyes meet Estebans. Cold,steely grey that pierces into him like fine needles and sharp teeth.

--Then change It-- his voice is monotone. But theres no lack of threat,cold,threats. A promise. He flicks his eyes back to the report.

--Yes- yes sir.

Flavia looks at her fellow scientist and then at her report. She breathes out silently and keeps her hands on her lap,head bowed in obidience.

--Project loki? -- he asked.

--Resistant to the compound, but easy to manipulate. The boy cannot grow a spine even If he tried to-- Acheron answered with ill concealed pity.

Adam scoffed,casual in his answer.

--Fear not for the boy. He serves a greater purpouse,he'll understand in time. His mother didnt have a spine either,she chased after the hare-- He said--As for the girls do mellow out vessel fang.

He sets the report and picks up the other. He reads about the latest skirmish of the Stalker unit, bioengieneered soldiers. He nodds in approval at the success.

--The stalkers have been doing good-- Flavia couldnt help the tremble in her voice-- Excellent May I say. They- their latest mission to sabotage the arcane restorative devices on north america has been succesfull. No witnesses as asked.

--Loses?

--Two. Poorly executed sabotage.

--Replace them rightaway. Awaken those candidates that had the best response to the compound. --He raised a brow at a certain sentence.-- Miss Frida Candor has been giving trouble to the handlers again?

Flavia nodded slowly,she can feel Esteban's look of pity as both braced for the scolding and biting words.

He sighs deeply and closes his eyes for a moment. A brief Repose before his eyes Open and the room feels like its choking them on the very air.

--Remind her well of why shes here. If she wants her family to Keep afloat in my city,she Will question little and raise her blade at my whim. If she doesnt abide, send her Locke's way. She'll have her on a tight chain within days.

--Yes- Yes Sir.

He sets down the report and puts them both on a drawer. He looks at the door and says.

--Dismissed. Both of you.

Both nodd and say their goodbyes with politeness laced with fear. As they leave,a servant enters with a tray of tea,they try to not shake in their pulse as they serve the King.

When they are done,they leave.

--All according to plan..-- he said to himself as he holds the cup of tea. He stands up and turns,waving his hand to reveal the large Window behind the thick,red covers.

He sees the endless sea expanse,sand and darkest blue that barely allows the view of the city's old Supporting pillars that once held the mighty city of Unitas afloat on the Timeless Sea.

His shoulders relax and see the red light shining on the glass. Runes light up in teal,and he takes a long,long sip of his tea.

He repeats.

--All according to plan.

Adam smiles as he hears the low dronning of the sea turn into hiss of a python,static filled and garbled,distant but content. In his eyes theres endless malice and pride,they twinkle red but for a moment and then return to the cold,cold grey of a predator nearing his time to strike.

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I got the bug for some reason, i know theres plenty of people out there who wants to smooch them characters and i want to help the people and feed this fandom!

Hey ism peeps! should i make some x reader headcannons for the patients,desmond and agent rainbow? (romantic, but i can do platonic n familial if anyone is interested!)

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Hey ism peeps! should i make some x reader headcannons for the patients,desmond and agent rainbow? (romantic, but i can do platonic n familial if anyone is interested!)

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@alexatheris-44 anathem n death vibes?

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Callisto,the Tiny tornado.

Cw: mentions of killing. Samael should be his own content warning/j

Summary: a glimpse into the life of Callisto,lady of Blackstone Keep.

>dreadgen Belongs to @alexatheris-44

--C'mon Cal,go to dad-- Hiraeth cooed as she allowed the baby nephilim to stand on her own. She kneels to be at eye level with her daughter.

Samael kneeled by his throne,across from his girlfriend. He flexes his hands as he says-- come on,callisto. Im waiting-- with this big,fanged grin that for once showed no malice but utter content and joy and wonder.

The baby looks back and forth between her parents,she blinks slowly before she slowly turns and takes little steps towards the throne. She keeps leaning side to side,her horns a little heavy on her body.

But with slow progression she makes it to her dad,who laughs this deep belly laugh and grabs his kid. He pulls her up past his head and says-- Do you see this,dear? Our baby is a genius already. Just like I knew she'd be

Hiraeth Walked up to meet her boyfriend and she rolls her eyes-- if I recall correctly you asked about a hundred Oracles about the child. You anxious nut-- she slaps his bicep playfully.

--Briging a child into the world is not easy,especially not a nephilim-- He looks at the bright yellow eyes of his daughter,they shine like Burning coals.

--but you worry too much-- she laughed,leaning her head against his arm as he hugs It. He leans his head a little and beings his kid to his chest where he Gently rocks her side to side.

Callisto giggles and her parents feel their hearts squeezed. It was a sound soft as the rustling of leaves,warm as a roaring Fire,gentle Like moonlight on a River.

--A perfect mix,wouldnt you say?-- Asked the lord of blackstone Keep.

--More than perfect-- The horsewoman answered-- Shes a blessing.

--My little curse-- He cooed with a smile before he gets a pinch on his arm-- I mean well,love.

--Dont call her that-- she laughed with a bitter little gleam in her eyes. Her dad called her "His little blight". Thinking about it still hurt just a little.

--As you wish,dear-- Samael pressed a kiss to the top of his girlfriends head,being mindful of her horns.

-♡-

--Oh- christ-! Callisto!--Dreadgen huffed as he chased around his niece who was running all over the place--Come here! Its schooling time!

--No! I wanna plawy!--She fussed, her hands out as she runs through her room at blackstone Keep.  She was a mischevious little toddler.

--You can play after you get your studies done!--He launched to Grab her but she jumps over her Open toy box.

--Gah!--the other half nephilim felt his head impact against the wood of the box. He sits up and rubs his head-- Ow...

The door to the room swings Open,one heavy boot after the other. Callisto beams a smile at the masked gunslinger, opening her arms wide and clinging to the armored leg.

--uncle stwife!--the girl cheered-- uncle dread is being mean! He wants me to study!

Strife Leans down with his hands on his hips. He raised a brow behind his helm--Does he now? Hes mean-- He pulls the girl up with ease like a sack of potatos. Even through his helmet he can smell her scent of lillies and smokey wood.

Dread stands up,huffing under his breath and fixes his clothes. He still rubs his head and looks as his fellow neph walks up to him. Callisto sticking her reptile tongue out at him.

--Here you go,beanpole. -- he hands the girl to Dreadgen who sighs in relief even as the nephilim toddler kicks and fusses.

--You Will pay for this!!--she whined as she tried to break off from his grasp. Even as a baby,shes a little scary.

--Sure thing,sunshine-- Strife scoffed, ruffling her hair.

She tried to push his hand away,and its his other uncle that Gently pushes back and fixes her messy locks.

--C'mon northstar. To study you go to become a bright demoness--Dreadgen hauls her up to fix the weight distribution-- Thank you,Strife.

--No probs,Scrag. Go-- he nodded outside the girls room,and the half nephilim happily left.

He loved his niece but she was a tornado of a child. Sweet god. Strife doesnt envy the guy at all. Like,at all.

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Desmond Wales. DAILY ROUTINE HEADCANNONS.

@fisheadz Requested me to write something for Desmond. Enjoy!

-Morning headcannons- "Ugh,who Turned on the sun?"

This Man. This poor,poor Man. He tries so hard,so hard to be a morning person. He really does try but he hates every second of it.

He has accidentally knocked his alarm clock off his desk. He also fumbles to find his glasses and in his feeling around always smudges the lenses. If hes really tired he wont even bother cleaning them and walk around with a weird blurry spot until he has to go to work and look presentable.

He Will get out of bed ,reluctantly,and walk to the kitchen dragging his feet. He sleeps with socks on. His circulation is not the best.

His breakfast is coffee (cream only), toasts. When he was with his wife (I cant for the life of me remeber her name) he ate the ocasional Bacon and eggs. He still does,if hes feeling like it. but its too much work and hes well aware hes slowly drifting into depression.

His toast has butter and sugar on it. He Will never admit It, being a health professional in a way, but he lives off of sugar and caffeine.

He Will make his breakfast, sit on his sofá and watch some sort of documental,reality show or something like that. He rarely watches the news,he doesnt want to wake up to awfulness every morning. (Hes specially avoidant of the news after his wife leaves him,and tonia passes)

Desmond takes half an hour,fourty minutes at most ,to eat breakfast. If he doesnt need to work,then he Will take an hour.

He goes to shower after,make sure he looks presentable and smells nice. He prepares his clothes ahead of time, im talking the night before.

Its worth saying he sleeps shirtless,only boxers and socks. Sometimes theyre mismatched. After his divorce the mistmatching happens more often.

He Will give his guitar a longing stare,hoping he can play some songs tonight when hes back. He usually comes too tired for it. But he still longs for it so much.

But after the shower he makes sure to Keep his beard in check (he trims it once a week) And makes himself another cup of coffee before going to his Office.

Mid-Morning. "Workin' nine to five,what a way to make a livin' "

He Will unlock his Office,and tale a deep breath of the stale air. He loves and hates his job,hes mentally preparing himself for today and whatever it is he has to put up with.

Only then he turns on the light, closes the door behind him and sits on his desk. He leaves the mug on the desk,and theres a ring of spilt coffee. He always covers it when people come over.

He shuffles his chair closer- every night when he leaves he tends to kinda kick it back when hes about to stand up. An annoying habit he cant break.

Then he begins to check his schedule,listen to his voicemail and organize his work and things he needs to do.

When his first few patients come in,its obvious hes still half awake, but most of the timed the patients dont take it personal. Hes so kind (and maybe a little old)

After each session he takes five minutes to rubb the sleep out of his eyes and clean his glasses that somehow manage to get dirty every single time.

Mid-Day- "Is a Salad enough of a lunch?".

He closes his Office for an hour. He doesnt like taking too long,he wants to dedícate most of his hours to people in need.

He is so lazy with making food with the excuse he has "little time". His wife used to help him and have a decent meal ready,but after the divorce he began to eat less healthy foods.

Lots of take out. Sometimes he would eat only a salad or a sandwich. It would leave him very hungry in the hours after. But he doesnt dare to Keep food in his Office,he doesnt want to seem unprofessional.

He also has some serious body image issues.

After his lunch he returns to work.

Afternoon- "Working hard,never hardly working"

Work👏alholic👏

He Will make himself yet another Cup of coffee. And that Will be his fuel for the rest of the day.

By the end of the afternoon his patients notice hes very,very tired,but somewhat happy.

He greets his patients with a smile,and bids them goodbye just the same way. Hes very welcoming,especially with those who never had therapy before,or New patients.

He doesnt notice It, but hes really charming.

When the late afternoon rolls in,when the sun begins to set,he closes up shop but stays for a good few hours with paperwork and schedules. Sometimes he stays too long- his wife would come get him sometimes but after the divorce he stays for a really long time.

Night- "Fly me to the moon,and let me play among the stars"

He comes home exhausted.

He Will make himself a quick dinner while jazz plays in the background. It helps him calm himself after so much of listening to other's problems.

He sings along under his breath. He had grown used to seeing his wife help him and smile at his singing. Hes got a nice voice.

Listens to ella fritzgerald, Louis Armstrong,Frank Sinatra and Many others. Once or twice he would pull his wife into a Waltz. Hes dorky,but he means well.

After that he would sit down on the sofa and eat watching documentals. Play videogames if he was in the mood.

When he comes home early and has a bit of spare time (rarely these days,given he spends too long at his Office to drown out his thoughts) he would sit and play the guitar. Tonia would sit by his side and purr,she loves his music.

He washes his dishes afterwards.

Then,showers.

He picks his clothes for the Next day,and he goes to sleep. Takes little time to fall asleep,always tired.

Rinse and repeat,rinse and repeat.

I hope you like these hcs! I had fun writing them.

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Desmond Wales. DAILY ROUTINE HEADCANNONS.

@fisheadz Requested me to write something for Desmond. Enjoy!

-Morning headcannons- "Ugh,who Turned on the sun?"

This Man. This poor,poor Man. He tries so hard,so hard to be a morning person. He really does try but he hates every second of it.

He has accidentally knocked his alarm clock off his desk. He also fumbles to find his glasses and in his feeling around always smudges the lenses. If hes really tired he wont even bother cleaning them and walk around with a weird blurry spot until he has to go to work and look presentable.

He Will get out of bed ,reluctantly,and walk to the kitchen dragging his feet. He sleeps with socks on. His circulation is not the best.

His breakfast is coffee (cream only), toasts. When he was with his wife (I cant for the life of me remeber her name) he ate the ocasional Bacon and eggs. He still does,if hes feeling like it. but its too much work and hes well aware hes slowly drifting into depression.

His toast has butter and sugar on it. He Will never admit It, being a health professional in a way, but he lives off of sugar and caffeine.

He Will make his breakfast, sit on his sofá and watch some sort of documental,reality show or something like that. He rarely watches the news,he doesnt want to wake up to awfulness every morning. (Hes specially avoidant of the news after his wife leaves him,and tonia passes)

Desmond takes half an hour,fourty minutes at most ,to eat breakfast. If he doesnt need to work,then he Will take an hour.

He goes to shower after,make sure he looks presentable and smells nice. He prepares his clothes ahead of time, im talking the night before.

Its worth saying he sleeps shirtless,only boxers and socks. Sometimes theyre mismatched. After his divorce the mistmatching happens more often.

He Will give his guitar a longing stare,hoping he can play some songs tonight when hes back. He usually comes too tired for it. But he still longs for it so much.

But after the shower he makes sure to Keep his beard in check (he trims it once a week) And makes himself another cup of coffee before going to his Office.

Mid-Morning. "Workin' nine to five,what a way to make a livin' "

He Will unlock his Office,and tale a deep breath of the stale air. He loves and hates his job,hes mentally preparing himself for today and whatever it is he has to put up with.

Only then he turns on the light, closes the door behind him and sits on his desk. He leaves the mug on the desk,and theres a ring of spilt coffee. He always covers it when people come over.

He shuffles his chair closer- every night when he leaves he tends to kinda kick it back when hes about to stand up. An annoying habit he cant break.

Then he begins to check his schedule,listen to his voicemail and organize his work and things he needs to do.

When his first few patients come in,its obvious hes still half awake, but most of the timed the patients dont take it personal. Hes so kind (and maybe a little old)

After each session he takes five minutes to rubb the sleep out of his eyes and clean his glasses that somehow manage to get dirty every single time.

Mid-Day- "Is a Salad enough of a lunch?".

He closes his Office for an hour. He doesnt like taking too long,he wants to dedícate most of his hours to people in need.

He is so lazy with making food with the excuse he has "little time". His wife used to help him and have a decent meal ready,but after the divorce he began to eat less healthy foods.

Lots of take out. Sometimes he would eat only a salad or a sandwich. It would leave him very hungry in the hours after. But he doesnt dare to Keep food in his Office,he doesnt want to seem unprofessional.

He also has some serious body image issues.

After his lunch he returns to work.

Afternoon- "Working hard,never hardly working"

Work👏alholic👏

He Will make himself yet another Cup of coffee. And that Will be his fuel for the rest of the day.

By the end of the afternoon his patients notice hes very,very tired,but somewhat happy.

He greets his patients with a smile,and bids them goodbye just the same way. Hes very welcoming,especially with those who never had therapy before,or New patients.

He doesnt notice It, but hes really charming.

When the late afternoon rolls in,when the sun begins to set,he closes up shop but stays for a good few hours with paperwork and schedules. Sometimes he stays too long- his wife would come get him sometimes but after the divorce he stays for a really long time.

Night- "Fly me to the moon,and let me play among the stars"

He comes home exhausted.

He Will make himself a quick dinner while jazz plays in the background. It helps him calm himself after so much of listening to other's problems.

He sings along under his breath. He had grown used to seeing his wife help him and smile at his singing. Hes got a nice voice.

Listens to ella fritzgerald, Louis Armstrong,Frank Sinatra and Many others. Once or twice he would pull his wife into a Waltz. Hes dorky,but he means well.

After that he would sit down on the sofa and eat watching documentals. Play videogames if he was in the mood.

When he comes home early and has a bit of spare time (rarely these days,given he spends too long at his Office to drown out his thoughts) he would sit and play the guitar. Tonia would sit by his side and purr,she loves his music.

He washes his dishes afterwards.

Then,showers.

He picks his clothes for the Next day,and he goes to sleep. Takes little time to fall asleep,always tired.

Rinse and repeat,rinse and repeat.

I hope you like these hcs! I had fun writing them.

[voidwritesstuff]

I love your writing! I have to ask, are you still up for doing fics about ISM? If so, can you do something for it, if you get the chance? Just anything, maybe something Desmond related? He’s my boy. ':3.

hi yeah i still write for in sound mind! ill be happy to make something with desmond when the ideas struck me. But if you have a particular scenario feel free to send it over! Im happy you love my writing,makes my day to hear stuff like this.

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Meeting the extended family.

Cw:none as far as im aware.

->For context read @alexatheris-44 fic.

Summary: after holding a funeral for his mentor in the pits, Dreadgen meets somebody in his makeshift funeral. The mother of mercy....His cousin.

It wasnt much of a funeral,but funeral rites Werent a thing he should know. That was his father's zone of expertise...in an odd,odd sense.

He met his father...fathers. He is plagued with questions and insecurity. Wasnt him enough? Why was he thrown out?

Dreadgen shook his head,thats not why he came to the forgelands. He was there to bury the old maker gladiator,or what was left of him after his battle with Anathem.

--Rest easy,old man-- He whispered,not much of a eulogy but there was a grave,candles lit and the makers weapon laid half embedded on the disturbed dirt.

His ears twitch at the sound of approaching hooves,his dad?.

No,theres the sound of gentle bells and it smells like...flowers. fresh flowers,sweetness..its something that wraps around him and hugs him- its ephemeral,like its not there for him but still welcome. Like a ghost caress upon his cheek.

To his left he sees a massive steed of pure white,cloudy,roiling mane with light colors of a Galaxy and a girl's childhood bedroom. Theres stars upon the mane and the armor is gold and ivory. The leather is cared for,the Seat comfy.

And atop it sat the pale rider,and Repose follwed in her stead. For a moment she doesnt acknowledge Him, lost in her task as she sits not with her armor but a long,white dress that looks akin to that of a princess.

White hair sat loose,her head adorned with funeral flowers in the shape of a crown. More seemed to Bloom when her hand reached to touch the handle of the weapon.

Ghastly blue goes up the handle like a cracking lightning wrapping around it to the hand. She holds the soul aloft and he sees her Many eyes. Few of neon yellow that for a moment remind him of Anathem's eyes,but theres no bloodlust,no boredom at the gruesome fate of the soul.

No,in her neon yellow eyes and her Gray ones there is this pure,utter,unmistakably sadness.

--Did you hold this funeral for him?--came the softest drawl of her voice,still so sad and yet so vagrant and not present. Like shes lost in the soul,Reading it.

The answer caught in his throat like the burning of dry Ice. He coughs it out in the midst of a terrified but awed state. Will she kill him?

--I-I did- I didnt know him- I mean I did but not really. Sorta  on-and-off camraderie. He uh- he was a good fighter-- he sees her flinch as if she read the memory of the souls death.

--Oh,thats no way to go. Anathem's more deadly than I thought..-- she said to herself,and the half bloods veins froze. She knows him. -- it was very kind of you to hold this funeral for him,he wont admit It...but hes thankful. Oh...-- her dove hovered over the soul. The horseman still looks vacant and half unconcious-- Send him home. Oh and you,young boy,he says goodbye.

Repose held in her claws the soul,she held it like her own chick and flew off.

It is now, he must choose between fight and flee...

--What May your name b--Her words caught in her throat,she chocked like it was her own blood she was spilling out. Her eyes widen with terror,terror and...concern!

Concern?

He grabbed his weapon,the warpick, and slung it over his shoulder ready for battle. Yet his legs shook,terribly. He could barely stay up.

--christ!-- hearing her say such a mortal Word was odd,it put him an ease in a way he couldnt understand-- you have to be kidding me. Youre a dreadgen...I-

--Please...dont kill me!--He choked out like a mournful Child. His eyes fill with tears. Fighting in the arena was one thing,this was certain,utter death. With no fighting chance.

--Why would i? -- she asked in a panic,moving away and pulling down the warpick from his trembling hands-- Oh,youre hurt...-- she saw the half bandaged injuries-- let me tend to that.

--I- why?-- she looked confused-- why wont you kill me?

--Well,you dont bear your fathers sin. Youre not at fault...-- Hiraeth got down from her horse. She was the smallest nephilim yet she towered over him with ease. An odd feeling-- In a sense...we're family. Now please let me tend to your wounds before they get infected..

Dreadgen doesnt know why he accepts,but he falls to his knees and the horsewoman does the same. In silence,she heals his wounds and sows them up with her own silk.

It does burn,not only because her silk felt holy-and he was far from that- but because of the injury's pain. Yet she doesnt mock him when he winces or sobs. She apologizes and cleans his tears,encouraging him to hold out until she was done- "just a little more. Youre a brave boy"

When she is done,silence falls. It had started to rain at some point and neither seem to care. The candles still burn allowing them both to see eachother.

--When I was young..--Hiraeth began-- My father called me Blight. But that name never sat well with me, I wanted to be called hiraeth..

--You were considered weak,right? Just like my father considered me weak.

She nodded-- Yes. I was bound to be slaughtered but my father never did muster the courage-- her hand raised his chin and smiled-- My father was Absalom. Your father is Death, right?-- he nodded-- I can feel his essence on you. They used to be close,you know what that makes us?

--No...--Dreadgen said,confused but in desperate need to feel comforted. His family,well its not what he expected.

--It makes us cousins-- she gave him this warm,warm and welcoming smile-- Its nice to meet you.

He chuckled-- My father would kill me if he knew.

--Well that old bag of bones isnt around,is he?-- she gave him a conspiratorial look,and he laughed. She grinned at that,he has a pretty laugh. And joy does look good on a dreadgen his age,oh sweet thing.

--No,guess not-- he smiled just a little.

She opened her arms,and he crawled slowly,very slowly,to her. Like a scared,wounded animal.

Dreadgen understands then this is no manipulation. This is just who she is,just like the stories said- Kind,gentle,merciful.

--Is...this what family feels like?--He didnt mean to think out loud. And he feels so flustered when he gets an answer.

--Yes. It is...

"Can we pretend we're family?" He thought to himself,but didnt say it. The rain still falling on them mercilessly,cold and uncaring.

Somehow though,she knew what he was thinking.

And so,she hugs him a little tighter.

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Gift for my bestie @alexatheris-44. Lyrics from Hunter by Paris Paloma. Im Very happy with how this looks <3333 >Dont repost my art, dont feed to a//i i do not consent. I own the copyright to all my art

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"Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves- DIE!!" 1)blame the epic saga for this. 2) this is how cults start/j

@alexatheris-44 PRAISED BE THE SQUID! >dont repost my art,dont feed to a//i i do not consent. I own the copyright to all my art

[voidwritesstuff]

"Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves- DIE!!" 1)blame the epic saga for this. 2) this is how cults start/j

@alexatheris-44 PRAISED BE THE SQUID! >dont repost my art,dont feed to a//i i do not consent. I own the copyright to all my art