#the skulls (eff)
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Im realizing there's implications with Pete cause like
He's implied to have been down here for a while (Simon appears to have known of him in genpop and it's established that they've been hiding out together for some time, so he's been here for at least 4 years, maybe 5).
He's maybe committed cannibalism (don't think too hard about what they have to eat if they're not getting food from the genpop cafeteria...).
He's lost functionality in legs to the nectar and has had these problems for a significant amount of time.
He is implied to either die of starvation or of being killed by a rat (the breach point is sealed, he cannot move easily from their little ragtag base, no mentioned food supply).
"He used to be a Skull but he's alright now"
D'you think he knows how much things have changed? D'you think they ever got updates from Ozzie? Or Simon spying and updating him? D'you think he had to forcefully to a personality shift when the nectar rejected him and he was saved from death by someone else?
anyways I'm adding him to my collective of Skull boys I'm not adopting but I'm certainly tossing sandwiches and sweaters too.
#pete (eff)#escape from furnace#eff this#I feel weirdly bad for all of the skull boys on sheer principle#there's a reason I have bodie mumble for simon to say hi to pete specifically
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Save Me
Lucifer Morningstar x Reader
warning: violence n blood but happy ending
“Summon your blue blood master, whore.”
The demon carelessly drops your phone into the cage and it lands at your knees. You don’t remember if this was a ransom or a hit on your beloved. You can’t bring yourself to care because you know the minute he sees you in this state, none of it will matter.
Your tongue darted out and swiped over your cracked lips, gathering the copper taste of your own blood. The chuckle that you let out is dry, cut short by a cough that worsens the state of your throat. It highlighted the bruises littering your skin, especially those you couldn’t see.
He would.
“This is gonna end real badly f’you.” You tell the demon hoarsely, offering them the biggest, meanest smile you could muster.
Your thumb hits the call button without hesitation.
You hadn’t even uttered a single word.
Immediately the energy in the warehouse shifts. An undeniable chill crept in suddenly and seemed to chase off any light the windows provided. Someone may as well have thrown a blanket over the building. If not for your phone providing a faint glow, you wouldn’t have been able to see your labored breaths leaving your lips. Simultaneously, the shitty bones of the warehouse trembled, quietly at first then ramping up to a deafening sound that surely meant it would collapse at any moment. It wouldn’t. Not while you were there. Even if it was only your body for him to collect, no damage would come unto you by his doing.
The demon’s eyes narrow in suspicion, like whatever was happening was your fault and yours alone. Your crooked smile widens into a malicious forewarning for what’s to come. The grin pulls and tears the cut on your lip that had only just stitched itself together, stinging you in retaliation. You’re certain the light illuminating you from below, combined with the blood, has you looking positively mad.
“Told you.”
Lucifer was more than a king; he was the judge, jury and executioner for his subjects. It wasn’t often they forgot it but should they do something drastic, such as stealing his beloved, then he would make an example out of as many souls necessary. You knew this and you knew it well— you’ve been around every century or so when the newer sinners needed a refresher. This just so happened to be your first time being directly involved in why.
It must be then that the harrowing realization finally sets in. They’ve bit off more than they could swallow and now it was going to choke the life out of them. Or, more accurately, he would.
Apparently determined to get in what would surely be their final reprisal, they reached into the cage and yanked you forward by your neck. Your forehead quickly meets an icy bar, sending pain ringing through your skull in greeting. Trapped, a mangled cry rips through the room that you don’t recognize is your own. You writhe in the demon’s grip, struggling to claw at their wrists and face. Tearing at their skin, trying to make them even in wounds more than you’re trying to escape, you manage a particularly good swipe at their eyes that makes them reel back. In their stubbornness, they refuse to release you and your face is squished against the cage as they stumble and crash.
No, you realize. They were flung clear across the room like an unwanted doll, landing in, what was now, a pile of wood. Familiar eyes of ruby and gold steal your attention from the groaning demon. You blink furiously, forcing your vision to tell you true. Of course you knew he would come for you, that was never in question, but whether you would be alive or not for that rescue did cross your mind. Your body had already begun to relax, melting with the comforting warmth of your beloved’s presence. Lucifer’s gasp is rigid, his voice trembling in disbelief and rising fury but he manages a soft tone just for your sake.
“Oh, angel. My sweet, sweet dove. I’m here now, I’m here. I’m so sorry.”
Metal creaks under his palms but it takes less effort than opening a jar of marmalade. He’s obscenely gentle while plucking you out of the cage, acutely aware of the way your breath hitches at his touch. Those aforementioned bruises pulse with vigor, spreading a dull ache all over your body. Just as you suspected, Lucifer's eyes roamed all over counting each and every one. He’ll return the favor tenfold.
One minute Lucifer’s holding onto a fraying thread of mercy, studying your precious face and stealing the apple of your cheek. The next he feels tears slide under the pad of his thumb, swiping them into nothingness like he wished he could do your pain. Your relief is palpable in them, he can taste it on his tongue with hints of your fading fear. His golden pupils get smaller and smaller until they’re consumed entirely by red.
Logically he knows you’re right there in his arms but your weight isn’t grounding enough for him. He can’t see you anymore. All he can see is the ugly blotches that some pitiful excuse for future kindling dared to taint you with. Clearly they knew who you were and how important you were to the King of Hell, so the consequences of taking and hurting you had been glossed over but accepted nonetheless. An act against you is no less treasonous than an act against Lucifer himself; to spit at your feet would be to do the same to him.
“You’ve got guts to pull off a stunt like that, huh?” A terrifying grin cracks unevenly across his face and is shot over his shoulder at the demon that was struggling to pick themselves up. “Let’s see ‘em.”
You squeeze your eyes shut and shield your face from a gust of wind. Upon opening them you realize you’re sitting on the ground alone. Lucifer unfurled his wings and launched himself over to the demon. They made it to their feet only to be launched into the wall and leaving a them-sized crater behind. Horrified and paralyzed you could only watch as Lucifer hovered over them, cocking back both fists and hurling them forward one at a time.
“I think there was one there, there— oh can’t forget here!”
Even while knowing what was to come, it still made your stomach lurch to see it firsthand. Teeth clattered to the ground in one punch, another and the demon’s eye was swollen shut. You were positive what Lucifer blocked with his body, the savagery you couldn’t see, was much worse. It shouldn’t bother you, not with how long you’ve lived down here but having blood on your hands, no matter how indirectly, made your stomach lurch.
“Luci—“ You croaked, your throat closing in on itself when you tried to speak. It was as if your body had sided with your beloved’s vengeance.
However the tiny sound managed to put a stutter in Lucifer’s next blow, his knuckles halting just before the demon’s face. A frustrated snarl rips from him and cracks through the silence like thunder, but the storm in him quiets before he turns to you. Wracked by guilt more than rage, your beloved can’t fully face you.
You try again, “Can we—“ only to be cut off by a cough.
“Stop—stopstopstop,” Lucifer whispers, voice getting closer, louder, “I’m here, I’m here. Don’t… don’t hurt yourself.”
True to his word, he’s right there. All it took was a blink and he’s kneeling before you, hovering his hands all over as if he’s not sure where to touch you. How can he comfort you when you’re bruised all over? You force yourself to continue, knowing he’ll keep his focus with you if you do.
“Jus’ wanna go home.”
Lucifer’s demonic features flare, hesitation on the tip of his tongue. Unfinished business never seemed like an issue before. With the bewildered look he gave you, you may as well have asked him to throw out his entire duck collection. The thought of using your voice again made your throat itch so you beseech him with your eyes, pinching your brows together and turning them up.
Scrunching his face once more he sighed heavily, seemingly defeated as his horns shrunk back into his skull and his tail retreated. Then your Lucifer returned to you at last, smiling softly, though guilt and regret swam in his crimson eyes.
“Home it is. Agh, I hate when you use your secret weapon against me. It’s not fair, I mean, how am I supposed to resist this face?”
You try to keep your own smile from spreading too far, opting instead to squeeze the man close to you to share in your joy. Lucifer was starving to do the same, holding you as close as he could without stressing your wounds. You could feel him inhale against your neck like you were air to him, filling him with relief and the ability to carry on.
When he pulled away you grew worried, especially when his smile dropped and he turned ever so slightly to the bloodied and battered demon.
“Congratulations, peasant, you’ve been pardoned. Courtesy of the King of Hell and his angel— who you will never ever even think of again. Right?” There was a pained groan from the demon that sent a dark chuckle bubbling up from Lucifer’s chest, “I thought you might agree. Do me a favor and spread the word? I’d rather not do this again. You know what I mean?”
There was a sharp edge to his grin for a moment too long but it faded by the time he eagerly returned his attention to you. The portal below whirred to life with a faint hum and sent pulses of warmth up into the air. You were completely and utterly wrapped up in your beloved that you hardly noticed. Lucifer mumbled into your hair how he would kiss your “boo-boos”, get you bandaged up and in pajamas in no time.
Hearing that, it was a liiittle hard to believe he was the same man that was seconds away from slaughtering someone for you.
~
╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ thanks for voting everyone!
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar imagine#lucifer morningstar x you#hazbin hotel x you#reader insert
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Wanted to introduce some JTHM ocs, specifically Noise, a Doughboy oc I adopted from @psycho-doughart I modified his design slightly (mostly added cracks on his body and the musical note symbol. Took me forever to get his story plotted out on paper.
Noise is the tiniest Doughboy but he is the loudest. Originally he was just a novelty salt shaker, made of porcelain. He is chipped in several places and no longer full of salt. He's filled with baby teeth, shiny pebbles and a Canadian dime, so when he moves he rattles.
Noise is a "fragment of a figment", slowly brought into animation with residual moose wall grime when Nny first broke into old man Juan's Casarez's trailer. He scribbled on the novelty Doughboy salt shaker with a sharpie marker out of spite. It took weeks for Juan to notice; he's not an observant man.
(Who is Juan Casarez and why is Nny stalking him/ breaking into his home will be explained later. Sorry, shift is starting soon.)
Unlike PSD and Mr. Eff, Noise is really not concerned with his fate or the fate of his target, which ends up Mr. Casarez. If he is collected, so be it. Until then, he's trying to wrap his skull around this whole concept of being conscious. Noise is curious and mischievous. He just wants to be heard.
He quickly realizes the more he's heard, the "realer" and more independent he becomes.
And he will amplify as many noises as possible as loudly as it takes until he is heard. Eventually, he can amplify thoughts too. The negative, intrusive ones are the loudest.
Luckily for him, Juan not only has a deep fear of loud noises, especially loud, sudden noises like crashes, thunder, screams, explosions, ect but Juan is also prone to overstimulation meltdowns and continuously plagued with dread and anxiety.
Just amplifying ordinary background noises causes Juan torment, which breathes more and more life/ consciousness into Noise.
Thank you for the adopt!
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[id: 3 digital sketches: first featuring alex and zee from escape from furnace peering over the balcony railing. alex, holding a hand over his eyes and squinting says "okay. so that one says "fuck the world" but what about the other jacket?". zee, to his right, has a hand to his chin, replies puzzled "its piss... uh... um. can i say that if im not british?". the second sketch is bodie, also from escape from furnace, holding a paint brush says "something for the warden to think about, lads" as the red graffiti behind him reads "if shit sucks hit da bricks". the third sketch is of cuno and cunoesse in furnace jumpsuits, both trying to save face while cunoesse peers from behind cuno.]
crossover for a target audience of me.
also i think its funny that both de and eff cant think of a better juvenile gang name than "skulls" that im supposed to take seriously
#casetrippy does art#accessible fanart#image description#for the sake of small fandom content ill tag#escape from furnace#at the same time thinking about cuno and cunoesse in furnace just makes me sad
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🎟💘monty where his dynamic w reader is like enemies to lovers where it’s just “FUCK YOU” “Oh you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid” up to you if you wanna go crazy with that dialogue 😳
bro i am the BIGGEST fan of that dynamic, number one enemies to lovers enjoyer here-
Montgomery Gator Enemies to Lovers HCs (SFW)
To be honest, people had expected you to get on with Monty - "I'm sure you'll be great friends!" your boss had said before introducing you to the gator. However, in some weird karmic justice for everything you'd ever done wrong, that was the complete opposite of the case. You could not stand Monty. His cockiness, his (and you visibly cringed as you said this) "bad boy" persona, everything about him just rubbed you the wrong way. And he wasn't quite warm to you either.
If you were honest, the first bad sign was when he flirted with you during your first introduction. You did... not react well, and although he backed off as soon as you made it clear you weren't interested, something about his attitude irked you, whether it was his overly confident manner or the shock he'd briefly shown when you didn't fawn over him like almost every other new hire.
You'd walked away from your first encounter with the gator irritated at best, and outright offended at worst, and your relationship had never really gotten better over your time working at the Pizzaplex. From there, it was like Monty was going out of his way to bother you, and it seemed he felt the same way about you. Between his infamous temper that flared up whenever he didn't get his way, and your absolute refusal to bend to his whims, even being in the same room as the two of you felt like being caught in the crossfire.
Over time, this fierce dislike of each other started to overtake your other relationships in the Pizzaplex. Monty couldn't be mentioned without you going on a tangent about just how annoying he was, and how much you wished he would just leave you alone. (Your coworker timidly pointing out that the only thing he'd done that day was walking near you was only met with ire, of course.)
Simply put, your hatred turned into something else. You were borderline obsessed. A part of you began almost hoping that you'd encounter the gator if only to argue. Little did you know, the feeling was absolutely mutual.
It came to a head one day when a very exasperated coworker finally asked you to just shut up about Monty. "Honestly, it's like you're in love with him or something, with how much you talk about him!". You violently denied it of course, but something in that remark stuck with you. You really did think about him a lot, and maybe that wasn't quite normal for someone you wanted nothing to do with.
So, instead of talking it out like a rational individual (because you were in fact much too stubborn for that), you simply stopped acknowledging him unless completely necessary, hoping you'd just stop thinking about him.
Monty, true to character, did not like that. Unbeknownst to you, he talked about you just as much, mostly to his bandmates. Freddy just asked why the two of you couldn't be friends, while Chica seemed genuinely confused - "Why don't you like them?" (That was not a question he could answer, frustratingly). Roxy was even less sympathetic and suggested that maybe, just maybe, there was more to his feelings towards you than just hate, like he said. He seemed to genuinely enjoy the verbal spats with you, and seemed to feed off of your attention more than anyone else's. If anyone could hammer it into his skull that he was acting more than a little obsessed, it would be Roxy.
So you suddenly giving him the cold shoulder was the exact opposite of what he wanted. And it drove him a little mad.
All of a sudden, he was everywhere you were, trying his hardest to... not start a fight? It seemed he'd listened to Roxy (and later Freddy) because all of a sudden it seemed he finally wanted to be friends. It was a strange few weeks, with him visibly flaring up at any remark you made, but making the effort to calm himself down. To onlookers, it was nothing short of hilarious. To you, it was baffling. And also very annoying, because without him being absolutely insufferable, you had to face the other feelings inside yourself.
This strange truce the two of you had conducted had been a relief at first for your coworkers, but only at first, because without the constant arguing, the tension between the two of you shifted into something very different. If they had to lock the two of you in a room together to just get some relief, they would.
#montgomery gator x reader#fnaf montgomery#monty gator#montgomery gator#fnaf fanfic#fnaf security breach x reader#fnaf x reader#fnaf security breach
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The headvoices (plus Mr. Samsa!!!)
Doughboys
So, in the first issue there's only one doughboy and it's D-boy. But he looks a bit different from how he looks for the rest of the series. He has long, black sleeves that would be given to Mr. Eff instead in the next issue. I'm not sure if this means that issue 1 takes place before Eff existed (in the bios it says that D-boy is two years older) or what.
For most of the series, D-boy has a white hat with columns of skulls and a black brim. It also has a little creepy face on it. I think this face was a way Jhonen used to sign his initials. He has 'FUCK' on his front, a black scarf, and three thin stripes on his arms with black gloves. He has spiral eyes with tears coming down, his nose has a dot and four squiggles, and his mouth is white with a black tongue.
Though the back cover of issue 2 shows a pile of skulls instead of individual towers.
Eff has a black hat with little ghosts and the brim has vertical stripes. His scarf is white and his front has a stripe and a box that says 'Z?'. He also took the sleeves D-boy had at first. His eyes are blank with a thick outline, arrows pointing away from the face and they're surrounded by squiggles or spikes, like a cartoon sun. He seems to have a pig nose and his mouth has a bunch of lines and may have arrows at the ends. His mouth is black with a white tongue. They both have black feet or shoes or whatever.
They also both have flat backs that are painted. D-boy has a spiral behind his head and Eff has... an arrow?? That would make sense.
When we do see them in color we see that Mr. Eff has purple on his hat and red eyes and scarf. D-boy seems to just be black and white. It seems the same at the end of I Feel Sick except the skulls on D-boy hat are black now. In the recent print Jhonen has changed quite a few things. The biggest thing is that D-boy now has glowing blue eyes to match Eff's red ones. Their hats are also very different. Now D-boy's has one big white skull as the top and Eff has a black skull with the teeth coming all the way down. D-boy has a little frowny face on the brim and Eff has a little smiley face. He also doesn't have the stripes anymore. Eff's front and gloves seem to be a dark green now (or it could just be the lighting or something). D-boy now has just two thicker stripes on his arms and has two squiggles on his nose and now it kind of looks like a mustache.
Reverend MEAT and Mr. Samsa
It looks like Meat and Mr. Samsa were planned to also be doughboys originally. One was named Senor Bondage and it says "the urge to give in to the mentality of being a physical being. Driven by organic whim." This sounds exactly like Meat. The other doughboy, Nil, which means 'nothing', says "The Little Creatures That Live Inside Us--Fashioned by dough or clay, from the things we hope no one can ever see." Not completely sure what that means, but Mr. Samsa IS a little creature.
Anyway, I think Jhonen changed it because he realized it would be really redundant if Johnny came back and once again had two doughboys talking to him. It would feel like nothing had changed. It was an extra good decision to have Mr. Samsa not even be a headvoice, but something Johnny could project his desire on to. Instead of being dragged back and forth by two opposing voices, it's Johnny himself and his desire to be emotionless like Mr. Samsa (which isn't true. bugs have lots of little bug emotions) vs Meat and his desire for Johnny to give in to all of his emotions. This is also shown in the fact that he doesn't trust Meat at all when he thought of the doughboys as his friends.
Reverend MEAT doesn't get a chance to change much. He's able to move around to some extent right away, making his burger disappear and making his eyes blank, like Eff. They also have stitch marks going up from them. His shirt can have different words on it, like Johnny's shirts, and he has sharp teeth and overalls. In I Feel Sick we see that he has red eyes, but then they get changed to a glowing pink. The pattern on his overall might be gone now and they might be red, but it's hard to tell.
Mr. Samsa is an immortal roach (or a series of roaches) and he stays that way. He hasn't shown up in group shots of the headvoices because he doesn't talk and is just a little bug who likes candycorn.
Nailbunny
Nailbunny hasn't changed at all aside from the one big change that happened in the comics. He was a dead bunny with a huge nail in him, but Eff rips his head off and now he's just a floating bunny head. He's blue and can fit on an ice cream cone.
Fetus in a Jar
It had one line in issue one where it distracted Johnny from killing himself by telling him that a funny commercial was on. Usually I would assume it's just some Early Installment Weirdness, but it showed up in a recent print with the other headvoices, so I guess it's canon. Now's it's in some other fluid-filled container and it looks like it was some oddity Johnny bought at a store or something rather than he himself finding a fetus somehow and just putting it in a jar.
#headvoices#jthm#jhonen vasquez#nailbunny#doughboys#mr. eff#d-boy#reverend meat#johnny#mr. samsa#carpe noctem
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Last Year's Flash Fiction: The Daughter of Death
Storytelling Collective does a yearly challenge for flash fic, with prompts and a nice community format. Every year I complete a run I pick my ten favourites and collect them into what is basically a zine. I've got 2024's up, so now it's time to share some faves from 2023
[ID: An image rendered in faux-photocopy style of a raven's skull centred over a crystalline burst. End ID.]
The Italians call Fear La Figlia della Morte—the daughter of death
Death cupped her hands around the steaming mug of tea and looked at her daughter.
“I know you hate conversations like this.”
“They’re lectures, mom.” Fear was leaned back in the kitchen chair, feet tucked up onto the rungs in the same way she’d sat when she was small and her legs were too short to reach the floor. Now, fully grown, it sent her knees akimbo.
Death wanted to look away from the annoyed eyes of her child, squatting there on the kitchen chair like an angry gnome, but pressed on.
“You know what, yes, I suppose these are lectures, but in the most technical sense. I am trying to impart some knowledge that I have earned through experience and time to you, my beloved daughter.” Death tapped the mug, cycling her finger through Aspects, so now the sound was soft, now it was the click of a long nail, now the chime of bone on ceramic. “It would be nice if you could skip past some of the mess of growing up by using what I’ve learned.”
“But you also are lecturing me in the sense you think I’ve done wrong and don’t want me to eff up again.” Fear was also cycling through Aspects, mirroring her mother’s anxious habit. The feet on the chair rungs, which were sending the knees bouncing in irritated discomfort, were now bird-like claws, now clad in pink socks with little doughnuts on them, now the stretched shape of a wolf’s paws.
Death tilted her head in a mixture of question and confirmation. “I wouldn’t say wrong.”
“You did, actually, at the time.”
“Well, that was wrong of me, actually.” Death stilled her hands on the mug again, trying to will her body to focus. “I think ‘ill-advised’ would be the best word. Or ‘rash’ maybe. But not wrong.”
Fear suddenly thrust her feet off the chair rungs, planting them with a stomp on the worn-out kitchen linoleum. “It’s what they wanted, it’s what they expected.”
“But what did you want?” Death sighed, feeling like she was emptying out her lungs. Forever, maybe. She made herself let go of the mug, lean back in her chair. She gave up looking at her daughter and said the rest of what she needed to say to the ceiling, part of her brain noticing that she needed to dust.
“It doesn’t matter what someone wants. I mean, it does, but if it goes against what you want—then fuck them. They want fear to be cold fingers on the back of their neck, but you think the situation calls for hot breath and the touch of fangs, then consider why you use their choice.”
Somewhere below where she was looking, Death heard her daughter.
“But how will they know who I am if I don’t look like what they expect?!”
Death smiled. “They’ll know. They’ll recognize Fear if it comes to them as an excitement that boils in their stomach rather than a hole in their heart. Just like they know Death if she folds them into nothingness instead of putting them in a chariot.”
Death could hear Fear shifting in the kitchen chair, tucking her feet back up. She added, “it’s fun, sometimes, if they don’t realise who you are right away.”
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Honestly I think Alastor would be much more scarier if he did more things with sound.
Like imagine he just makes a person constantly hear some annoying sound constantly and only that guy can hear it. Or his demonic form has a whole bunch of old times speakers and he traps a victim in this room of speakers that plays at a high volume ripping peoples skin off and making their eyes explode.
Seriously sound can really eff a person up in dangerous and interesting ways
OMGGG yeah it would it fit so well cuz . RADIO DEMON 😭 it would be cool if his radio sounds had the same effect as the noise fromt he office lights in the backrooms level 0 or something too that would be sick asf
i feel like vivzie fumbled so much with alastors powers, like why give him voodoo magic?? if he is the radio demon?? (and the slenderman tenticals 🤨) like he can still be from new orleans without the use of voodoo like he should just have magic radio powers, like for being called the radio demon he does little to nothing with radio other than be a radio host and use a funny voice. like he has so much in him, radio guy, deer wendigo, slenderman tencials, voodoo magic, like that is so much
ive seen people use liek radio symbols instead of voodoo symbols while drawing him and i think that is so COOL actually and i think if i ever redraw a scene from the show or draw him using his powers i will def be using radio symbols because that is simply just cooler
also speaking of his demonic form, YES that would be so cool, like i feel like his demonic form is like so.................weak looking (design wise) like its literaly just bigger alastor with a longer neck and bigger antlers, at least give him a deer skull or something, and like u said some type of radio thing would be so dope
id say maybe his true demon form is being hidden away because of that deal hes restrained to but lets be honest, vivzie would not do something like that
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ok, so more no-Furnace!au hcs for the Skull boys
So they're still shitheads, just a little less so (pretend this is a universe that actually gave a fuck about delinquent teens/preteens and cares more about helping them than throwing them in prison). The gangs are still a thing, but violence is rarer and usually involves fistfighting and not knives or guns.
Bodie and Kevin constantly annoy each other. They're assholes, they're best friends, they'd strangle each other given the opportunity, they split lunches.
Gary and Bodie have a quieter dynamic. They don't talk as much but Gary doesn't smoke when he's around Bodie and Bodie balances out Kevin and Gary's short tempers as the one who's just a little more patient.
Kevin and Gary fight non-stop. They're problem children and they know it. Will put aside their differences if faced with a mutual dislike/threat or in the rare moments that both of them are in a good mood.
Ambrose is stuck trying to lead the gang and balance between the fact that they're typically fighting and breaking the law with the fact that they're a) trying to be a little better about it and b) kids, typically from not great homes. Despite the fact that Kevin is his lieutenant publicly, the gang has a more complex hierarchy and Ambrose pays attention to all of them.
Pete is technically still in the gang, but not really. He only comes out to help them if there's a real problem and most of his work is just scaring off rival wannabe gangs from picking on people in what is traditionally Skull turf. Call it his community service, but the bullying rate has decreased by quite a bit since he's started doing this.
Ambrose and Gary have a weird dynamic. They both would rather the other be gone, they both know the other one doesn't have any great alternatives, and honestly, neither of them can afford to lose the gang. They're the only people that make Ambrose keep his violent tendencies in check long-term and can at least direct Gary's bloodlust onto targets that won't get him arrested. Privately, Ambrose hopes Gary's father gets taken out of the picture soon and maybe that'll get Gary under control a little bit.
Adam has gotten out of crime shit and stayed out of crime shit, but he'll do Ambrose minor favors in emergency situations. This means mostly things like playing lookout for cops when there's an inter-gang brawl and helping steer some of the stray kids to the Skulls so they can either join up (and have their violence directed away from the civilian population) or be scared straight.
At the end of the day, at least some of the Skulls are damn well aware that this lifestyle isn't sustainable. They start turning away younger kids, sending them back to Adam and Oli and anyone else they can think of that'll help keep the kids away from crime as much as possible. This is half-compassion and half-knowing that the kids won't be able to handle their own in bloodbaths. One of the hardest questions that weights on the minds of guys like Bodie and Pete is whether or not they have the option to re-integrate into society one way or another, if it's not too late for them.
#a little more depressing but I do feel like gang life is glorified a little too often#like I doubt any of these kids come from esp. good homes#I have a lot of thoughts on their parents tbqh#and on how they'd actually go about getting back into the regular world of no violent crime and no gang#it'd be weird right??#kevin arnold#gary owens#Ambrose Pope#Bodie (eff)#pete (eff)#the skulls (eff)#escape from furnace#eff this
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MW- Character of the day: Arianne Martell
Tag: @adriennegabriella @morby @tashastrange89 @candycanes19 @wingsoftheangels
(A/N: My one verse fix for the eff up that both D&D and, GRRM did to House Martell canon wise. Oh by the way, the way I have magic used in my verses, is a bit different from canon. Till and if GRRM finishes the series, I’m just using it my way. Enjoy the story.)
Character of the day: Arianne Martell
Song Inspired: “Home” and “Give Me A Sign” by: Breaking Benjamin
“I can help you get you the Iron Throne.”
Was all that the note read. Arianne could tell it was the same writing as the note that was left for her Father, Doran. That was from four days ago.
“Come to King’s Landing in three days time. Bring your Ellaria, the Sand Snakes and your Father, if he can.”
Was all that the note read. Arianne was interested on who was sending the notes; she could feel eyes on her though. She wasn’t sure what the feeling was. Arianne did not want to bring her Father with her, not after all the hell he brought to her mentally. That was from three days ago.
“Your Uncle isn’t dead, he lives. You have no reason to believe this claim or, any that I have had made to you, but I did promise your Father.”
Was all that the note read. Her heart wanted to stop, to read that line made her enraged. The blood of Martell screamed for answers. Arianne had to wait though, would the others believe her if she told them the truth? That was two days ago.
“I serve the Martells, like I do my own house. I seek to have Tywin and Cersei Lannister dead.”
Was all that the note red. Arianne chuckled at the note; if they’re a real ally, it would make this interesting. Soon they’d be in King’s Landing and the mystery would be answered. Was Oberyn truly alive or was this a gambit, Arianne could afford to take? That was a day ago.
“Come to the Red Keep.”
Was all that the last note read…
This was it, Arianne, her cousins and Ellaria had made it to King’s Landing; Arianne being confident normally, felt nervous. It was like time slowed down for her and that, if it was for nothing, that it would be a fate worse than death.
The group, huddled together, weapons at the drawn at an eerily calm Red Keep. It was like it had been abandoned like Shadystone. Their hearts beating hard as they felt anxious, their steps echoing as they head for the Throne room.
They walk into the room and standing in the center of the room is Oberyn Martell, skull in tact. Oberyn’s daughters jaws drop. Arianne’s eyes tear up in joy and Ellaria ran over to him, her hand touching his face.
“It’s him...how?” Ellaria asked.
“Apologizes my love.” Oberyn smirked.
I walked into the room, just watching from a far. Allowing Oberyn to be with his family…
Arianne felt something touch her shoulder; a raven with a small scroll...just like the one from her Father’s study the one day. She took the scroll:
“Over here.”
Arianne’s eyes meet mine, a small smile on my face. I started to walk over to them, thinking it would be okay now.
“We’ve been waiting for you Queen Arianne.” I spoke finally.
I pulled my hood down and smiled at the group.
“How?! How is he alive?” Arianne asked.
Of course Oberyn and Ellaria were making out like horny teenagers, but it’s welcomed right now. I turned to the shadows. Arianne could see a black humanoid mass standing there. Her eyes go wide in shock seeing it.
“Do you remember how I came to Dorne with no guards from the North?” I asked.
“Yes.” Arianne answered.
“It’s why. Basically I was able to switch your Uncle out for my shadow. What Ellaria saw, was my shadow magus being murdered. Listen, your Grace, if you want me dead for not-”
“Why would I want you dead? You saved my Uncle! I mean, sure I am upset at the fact you didn’t say anything but I...thank you.” Arianne was a bit stunned.
Doran had a plan to put Arianne on the Iron Throne; things changed but when I sent Doran that note all that time ago, I meant it. I would help him get her on the throne and help get justice for Elia. I’m not doing it for the glory or anything, it’s because they’re my family.
I may have the wolf blood in me, but they’re part of our family too. Maybe now Father, Mother and Robb may rest. Arianne was sitting on the Iron Throne, was the next thing I remembered. Cersei’s crown now on her head.
"'Unbowed, unbent, unbroken.' The words of House Martell. A promise to our enemies, and a challenge to our lovers."
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pre-wedding Bromtilda moods
they like, literally do not show any animosity towards one another till episode 5 when she calls him out on bullying Ichabod. both of them to some extent were mean to Ichabod but not to one another.
in episode 1, both of them are rude af towards Ichabod at some point "This guy needs help and I hate him" vs "Nevertheless, eff that guy". Brom tries to prank him in the woods by pretending to be the Horseman, Matilda ambiguously tries to poison him, maybe, but messes with his glass either way. parallels!
in episode 2, Brom instantly thinks of going to Matilda for help because he recognizes her as an authority when it comes to magic and death. Matilda, who was being mean to Ichabod prior to this, instantly accepts the mission (partly because it aligns with her goals of opening an occult shop and broadening her magical horizons) once Brom asks.
it may be a funny line, but "The injustices perpetuated by white cisgender men are what shock me. A headless war veteran stuck in limbo does not" "That’s like basically my motto" shows their political values align and they’re both people whose values are close to their heart
Brom defends Matilda when Icky jokes about the skull lol
they both ditch Ichabod at the cemetery to handle the police on his own, absolute icons
that cute ass smile she shares with Ichabod at "Brom wrote butts", and also the fact Brom wrote butts in HER yearbook!!! what was the intent here sir
Brom gives Ichabod the wrong head, and Matilda totally ditches him at the courthouse to handle the shitstorm on his own.
other cute ass smile at Brom’s silly entrance "Why is it that I see you every day?" it contrasts perfectly with Kat being annoyed by him and ignoring him.
I think that when she called him out on being a dick to Ichabod, she was also making the decision for herself that she would be a better friend to Ick, cause up to this point she has also dropped the ball on him several times. "I know how you can make it up to Ichabod: you can help me sort through all these documents" it’s their shared penance for being bullies lol, and also she could have chosen to drop his ass (like she did Ichabod’s, multiple times) but instead actively chooses to include him and push him to just do better.
Brom immediately took her callout to heart and reflected on his behavior, and when he apologized to Ichabod Matilda was watching him and nodding along to support him.
and then in ep 6 she came up with the idea they’re in love and he came up with the idea he wants to marry her.
and like the opposites attract theme they have going on not just in aesthetic/personalities but like Brom thinking he’s all that and that he’s the hero of this town realizing he’s actually made to devote himself to the ones he loves and take a backseat when needed, and Matilda staying in the shadows as Kat’s best friend obeying her plan, but realizing that she can forge her own path and make her own decisions and she’s not trapped in the role they chose for her.
just a rambling list of little details that pile up, these two didn’t hate each other at all before the wedding, they honestly seemed to like each other quite a bit, they were similar in some ways and went through a path of growth alongside one another and the terrain was ROIPE for them to fall in love eventually. it’s just very realistic two people who’ve known each other forever and like each other, who’ve been through something really scary and painful together would just choose to stick together and make the best of their accidental marriage situation. love conquers all and all that. nice af ship.
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Porrim Maryam, Meenah Peixes
Act 6, page 5263
PORRIM: It's a no+ble idea.
PORRIM: But I do+n't kno+w ho+w useful I'd be.
MEENAH: oh come praaaaawn 38[
PORRIM: What's the size o+f yo+ur party so+ far?
MEENAH: uh
PORRIM: It's still just yo+u, isn't it?
MEENAH: ... maybe
#losers #everywhere
PORRIM: If I were yo+u, I'd ask all the go+d tiers first. They'd give yo+u the mo+st tactical advantage, wo+uldn't they?
#Go+d tiers
PORRIM: Then yo+u can build yo+ur co+alitio+n aro+und them.
#Pajama party
MEENAH: i guess
PORRIM: +, they're immo+rtal, right? Or... gho+st immo+rtal, perhaps?
PORRIM: Dear Go+d, it's finally co+me to+ this. We have to+ talk abo+ut "gho+st immo+rtality" no+w, in a serio+us way?
#Gho+st immo+rtality #Serio+us business
MEENAH: lol yeah
PORRIM: Anyway, that's what I'd do+.
MEENAH: but i think the thing is the skull lord might actually be able to kill god tiers?
#at least... #ghost god tiers
PORRIM: Can he?
MEENAH: like bypass the whole judgment hullabeluga that makes em resurrect
#whaaaaales #<3
MEENAH: you know with the fancy clock and all
MEENAH: i dunno
PORRIM: Yo+u'll have to+ ask Aranea. I'm sure she co+uld talk yo+ur fin o+ff o+n the subject.
#Sylph o+f Wo+rds
MEENAH: oof
MEENAH: yeah maybe later
PORRIM: Do+ yo+u even kno+w who+ all the go+d tiers are?
MEENAH: um
PORRIM: There's Aranea. Did yo+u ask her?
MEENAH: yeah but she has her own plan
MEENAH: girl is going on a cherub jam or some bitch ass noise
#eff that
PORRIM: Ok. Well, I ho+pe this isn't to+o+ invasive, but what abo+ut yo+u?
MEENAH: ...
PORRIM: I've heard rumo+rs that yo+u reached go+d tier, but never let o+n to+ anyo+ne.
#Except presumably Damara...
MEENAH: you dont understand
MEENAH: its just that fucking thief of life getup
#looked like such ass
MEENAH: i couldnt just parade around in that hideous thing
#got a reputation to conchsider
PORRIM: So+ it is true, then. Tho+ught so+.
PORRIM: See what I mean, tho+ugh? I wasn't sure abo+ut that until just no+w. Rumo+rs are always flying, but secrets so+meho+w persist.
PORRIM: Who+ kno+ws who+ else reached go+d tier? A lo+t can happen in three sweeps. I o+nly kno+w I didn't make it.
PORRIM: But if yo+u need so+meo+ne to+ eerily pho+spho+resce in the demo+n's vicinity, while debating whether to+ try drinking his blo+o+d, then I'd like to+ think I easily crack the to+p 10+ candidates yo+u might co+nsider fo+r the jo+b.
MEENAH: yeah i know youd rock the glowin duties
#po glow
MEENAH: guess youre right i should sea what other god tiers want to join
MEENAH: the prob is that i dont think becoming god tier stops you from being lame and terrible
#lame #terrible
MEENAH: and we got a lot of people like that on our team
#soooo
PORRIM: This is true.
MEENAH: guess ill keep axin around
MEENAH: gonna bounce seaya meryam
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Tonight’s Infinite observations.
Gosh I love that grapple shot.
I am still not much good in a firefight and still do not care. If we find the Grunt Birthday Party skull I will care more. Thank you Mr for still being patient with me.
I only heard about half of the audio log with Lasky and Halsey arguing over separating Blue Team. But “Plans change, Doctor” = “I don’t take orders from you, Dr. Halsey, also I’m too polite to tell you to eff off.”
I might have a continuation in my head where Chyler says exactly this 😆
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Turns out I can write more if I draw shit out mindlessly for hours, who would have guessed??
Probably should be posting this on the sideblog, but if I’m being honest idgaf anymore lol. But I will tag it so you guys don’t have to suffer my terrible writing lmao.
Also I apologize for that terrible Noctis, I’m still trying to learn how to draw him but MY GOD did they make this man impossible for me to draw 😬😬😬 also procreate isn’t exactly easy for me to navigate, I’m still trying to get used to it (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it)
“Eh? Looking to get back into Insomnia are ya, Pup?” The grizzled, old bangaa wheezed out at the Prince’s awkward request. Noct’s spine stiffened as they rose to their full height, apparently sizing him up for some unknown reason. The gray green scales on their face crinkled tightly to the center of their snout as it curled into a disdainful sneer, clearly not impressed by what they found. “Meh, forget it.” The old bangaa attempted to wave him away with a large hand. “The Voretooths would get you long before you even cleared the valley to get seaside.”
“What?” Noct didn’t know whether to be offended or straight up pissed off at the bounty hunters words. A snarky chuckle came from nearby, another bangaa bearing chestnut brown scales, a lean body build and a shotgun the length of his leg had decided to make themself known from the shadows.
“Doesn’t look fit to fight a fly, even lesser to run a kingdom, don’t you think?” They pointed out cheekily, pointed snout curling into what Noct would interpret as a grin. A wave of realization washed over the other’s face.
“Ah yes!” They exclaimed, a cruel smile appearing on their features. “This one’s supposed to be the Prince isn’t it? Would have guessed the one with the mullet would have been Regis’ whelp.”
Noctis’ fists balled up tightly at his sides as he tried to control himself. He would have fought them right then and there at the moment had he not needed them to get back home. He knew that Bangaas could be coarse at times, but they were never this abrasive to him during the few times he interacted with them. Though, he reminded himself, his experience with the race was limited to those who were allowed to live within the walls of Insomnia. And judging by the way they had been treated since day one of leaving the crown city by those outside of its protection, those were the exceptions and not the rule.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he tried again.
“Please,” He began, trying to keep his tone as even as possible. “I need to know how to get back into Insomnia without alerting the Imperials.”
The older bangaa scoffed.
“To do what, whelp?!” He sneered. “Your kingdom is dead and your father alongside it. Best run away with your tail between your legs like you Humes are known to do and start elsewhere. Was bound to fall sooner or later after all. Just be happy you got out with your skin unscathed. Few others have been granted that blessing I heard…”
Noctis couldn’t remember much that happened in the next few seconds. A crackle of electricity had run up his spine before he could stop himself and he felt the familiar weight of his weapon in hand, his feet moved him of their own accord and he felt his body lean forward as he attempted to rush the bounty hunter in a fit of sudden rage.
His opponent, however, was apparently unperturbed.
In a deft move that came from years of fighting creatures found only in his nightmares did the bangaa swat away his pitiful attack, the force of which sent his weapon flying off in a high arc before disappearing in a spray of electric blue particles. Before he could even get a chance to react Noct felt his face get trapped in the scaly grip of his target, who merely stared at him with bored, pale yellow eyes.
Noct tried his best to wrench his face free of the bangaas grip with no luck, his nostrils flaring as he tried to breathe as their grip tightened on his face, threatening to crush his skull with apparent little effort.
“Mmm…pity the kingdom is no more. You probably would have fetched me a fair amount of gil if that were the case.” they hummed out, turning his head back and forth as if they were examining goods. “What was it the Old Skin said about you? ‘Took the King and kicked the dignity outta him’?” The laugh that came from deep within them was unnatural, but Noct could still feel the derisive tone ooze from it. “As if Regis ever had any dignity in him to begin with…”
“Bista, the others are here.” The chestnut skinned one piped up, motioning to a large caravan rolling up in the distance. Snapping out of his focus, Bista’s nostrils flared at the Prince huffing their rancid breath into his face as a result.
“Luck seems to keep favoring you, whelp.” They muttered, shoving Noct away from them like discarded trash. Noct landed on his backside roughly, a few feet away from the bounty hunters talons. His hands flew up to massage his sore cheeks and jaw while he glared up at Bista angrily.
Bista turned their head and spat on the ground in agitation. Returning the glare, they snorted.
“If you really want to throw away your second chance like a fool then head up to the shores overlooking Insomnia in the early morning, when low tide hits.” They began lowly. “A pathway to the Underground supply tunnels will reveal itself then.” They finished, granting him a low bow in mocking respect. “Safe travels, your Majesty.”
The mocking laughter would echo through his mind for days to come, but at least he got what he came for.
Soon he would be back home…
#oh my god readmore actually works hot damn#ffxv#FFXV au#FFXV spare au#<- remember these tags for blocking purposes#my writing#my art#Scribblings
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Green ghost Resurrection was incredibly difficult thanks to her basic skull being pierced like a donut luckily thanks for her unique phasing abilities they were slowly able to replace her damage tissue bit by bit by activating it that might be a few mental ticks though you can't fix up brain matter without an occasional tweaking necessary
"It's true, there was a lot of complications in the process to revive me. Several of them may or may not have been related to my several tons of flab making it nearly impossible to lift a single part of my body. And although I haven't found any mental ticks yet, they did warn me there could be potential side effe-"
Green Ghost trailed off as someone with with a bag of fast food walked by, keeping her eyes on the bag as they walked past, unable to resist. Without even thinking, she phased under the ground and stole the bag, shoving the whole thing in her mouth and swallowing before she could even reemerge.
"I'm, I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"
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One Way or Another || Leah & Regan
TIMING: Current
PARTIES: @kadavernagh @phoenixleah
SETTING: Regan’s Apartment
SUMMARY: Our resident fire bird hatches a plan to see what the eff’s up with Regan.
Leah shouldn’t have gone to Portland. She shouldn’t have accepted apathy from Kaden when she first brought up her concerns about Regan, and she shouldn’t have left town before there was a plan in place to at least figure out what was wrong. Now, Regan was promise binding people and screaming at them, and losing herself more and more to the mystic unknown of a goddamn rotten skull. She should have just stuck to owl pellets.
She let out an anxious breath, adjusting the snug noise canceling headphones over her ears one last time before she tentatively knocked on Regan’s door, unsure if she was ready for who was going to meet her on the other side. Regan did not know she was coming, and based on how she reacted on the internet all those weeks ago, she wasn’t going to be happy to see her. Leah did not have a plan- more of a strange, staggered set of goals she hoped to accomplish before Regan inevitably kicked her out. The easiest goal- see Regan. Look at her and study her and get a better idea of what might be plaguing her. The hardest goal, and perhaps the stupidest- find the skull and sneak it into her bag. Not only would it put some proximity between Regan and the wretched thing, but she’d have a much better chance at figuring out what was wrong if she could actually study it. She gave the door another knock, though she hadn’t been waiting all that long.
There were still so many bones here that needed to be brought to the cabin. Regan paced, appraising her collection. Rabbits, raccoons, deer, mice, otters – and of course, Bell, who sat off in the corner, a perpetual good boy. Her more recent and favored coyote rested on the couch, its hollow gaze turned toward her. It always seemed to be. “Let’s do the deer first.” Regan finally decided, taking the coyote’s silence as approval. The walk to the cabin was sizable, and she could only carry so many bones at once without risking them. Carefully, she picked a deer skull off the shelves, turning it over in her hands. It was a large one from an adult female, and one of the first skulls she’d found here in White Crest. There was a knock. The coyote informed her, so lost in admiration as she was. A second one came. Who would dare? Unless it was Marina standing at her door, Regan wanted nothing to do with others. And she would have felt Marina.
Agitated by the disruption, Regan swung the door open, thunder building in her lungs. It cleared when she saw who was standing there: Leah. Her stomach dropped. Not here, not her. What if – but the coyote instilled its confidence. It would be okay. Regan’s mouth flattened into a terse line when she saw the headphones. How insulting. “Can you even hear me?” She tried, the deer skull in her hands a source of comfort even against the slight. “Do you really think those headphones would do anything? If I wanted to, I could put my hands on your shoulders and rend you apart.” Careful, the coyote cautioned, but it was pointless; Leah clearly knew something was amiss. So why pretend otherwise? It was giving her a stomach ache, anyway. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here? Or should I just inform you that you’re going to leave?”
Leah pressed her lips together in a tight line as the door began to swing open, bracing herself for whatever might meet her. Physically, Regan looked like herself, just like all the times they’d met before (besides their first meeting, of course, when she was barely two inches tall). But there was something off… something behind her eyes that felt different and distant and… wrong. She let out a huff, raising her hand to delicately touch the outside of her headphones. “Of course I can”, she said, as if it should have been obvious. “They wouldn’t do much, no, but they’d do more than no protection would. But I’m not too worried about that anyway, Regan, because I’m not afraid of your scream. I never have been.” Back when Regan was first discovering who she was, it had been so important for Leah to let her know that she wasn’t a monster, that what she was was wasn’t to be feared. And maybe whatever was coursing through Regan now should have struck fear through her heart, but her fae never would.
“You probably could have done that before, you know”. Before what was unspoken, the implication was clear without Leah having to speak it out loud. Regan knew about her brittle bones, though, but Leah doubted she knew just how brittle they could be, especially since she didn’t exactly know the cause. “But just because someone has the potential to do awful things does not mean they’ll do them.”
Her eyes flashed down to the skull mulling in Regan’s hand, and then back up to her eyes. Was that it? Was the coyote skull Kaden said she’d been talking to? How could something so unassuming cause so much damage? “Well, since you’ve blocked my calls and messages, I had no other way of contacting you. A bit rude, if you ask me.” As she spoke, she pulled her backpack around to her side, pulling out the library’s new copy of ‘Skeleton Keys: The Secret Life of Bone’, and holding it out to Regan. “We just got this in, and I thought you might like it.” It was a sad excuse, she knew, but hopefully a believable one.
Regan’s hand slowly drifted away from the skull she was cradling to rest against the door’s edge. Leah had not yet provided her with a reason she shouldn’t slam it shut. It would protect– but the coyote, having been convinced that the jig is up, was now adamant on confrontation rather than a door in Leah’s face. Her eyes ticked to Leah’s. “You should be worried about precisely that, actually.” Regan’s lungs buzzed with movement, but she would not let it control her. She would not scream while holding one of her cherished skulls. “I knew nothing before.” Though she’d hissed the word, anger seeping into her voice, her disdain was more directed at her past self than at Leah for the comment. “I thought I was human. I lacked precise control, any control. I didn’t even know what I was capable of. So you can forget before. Before is gone.” She remembered the heaviness she’d once felt in mourning her old life, how she’d sobbed in training, sobbed for the last time. Deirdre spared no honesty. They both knew that Dr. Regan Kavanagh was dead. Now she was something else, having found purpose in her duty.
“Do you like it?” Regan asked of the skull Leah was studying. “Not that your answer makes a difference. If I wanted to converse with you, I wouldn’t have blocked you.” But… Regan paused for a flicker of a second, as if remembering something. No, that wasn’t why she’d blocked her. That wasn’t it at all. She wanted– she didn’t want to hurt– her forehead tensed, but she shook it off, the coyote’s pull acting as an anchor to reality. Something was wrong. She wasn’t sure what. The coyote disagreed. Regan glanced down at the book, seeing bone illustrations on the cover, and reached out. Surely it should be hers. “This isn’t why you’re here,” she remarked, her bearings now settled, “but I will take it if you will leave.” A deal. And part of Regan knew it was the biggest kindness she could offer Leah right now.
Leah did not break her gaze at Regan. She bore down, in fact, in an attempt to signal to Regan her stubbornness and trust in her ability to control. “You knew plenty before. And you spoke about what you knew with more passion and care than just about anyone I know. And just because you’re losing yourself to something awful right now does not mean you’re a different person than you were.” She still didn’t quite know if she was talking to Regan or whoever was possessing her, but deep down, she hoped the real Regan was listening. “You’re the same person you’ve always been, Regan. The same wonderful, smart, admittedly sometimes naive person. And I’m going to find you again.”
Her eyes flickered back down to the skull, and slowly a plan slowly began to form in her mind. She needed to get that skull away from Regan. She needed to figure out what kind of hex or curse was on it so they could start taking the steps to exorcize her. For a moment, Regan’s words sounded distant and muddled in her head. But when she looked back up toward Regan, there was a flicker of something else- something so deeply Regan that it couldn’t be denied. The moment was so fleeting she nearly missed it. It must have been the same experience Kaden told her about. She was still in there, somewhere. She bit her lip, nodding wordlessly. She wasn’t stupid enough to verbally make a deal with a fae, but she was going to leave once Regan had the book. She was going to leave as fast as she could. She watched Regan carefully, pushing the book toward her direction with her right hand.
“You saying all of that only indicates that you knew nothing of me.” Right? Regan asked inwardly, awaiting a response from her partner. Yes, nothing. She doesn’t understand anything about death, or Fate, or servitude. And if she thought the coyote was something awful, she knew nothing now, either. And yet, the coyote seemed to… waver. It was uncomfortable. Leah both knew too much and knew nothing at all. “And you know nothing of us–” The word slipped out, a byproduct of her internal conversation with a coyote skull that could somehow transmit its controversial opinions into her head from the couch. There was no explaining that one, even if she wanted to. Correcting it would bring attention. “I’m not a person, I never was. Calling me one is almost insulting, denying my absolute dedication to my duty. We have been over this.” But there was the book, and more to be understood about why Leah was actually here. And the coyote, in its pride, would not have her slam the door. Regan gave up on clutching it with her free hand, instead reaching out, her fingers curling around the book’s spine (the lesser of spines). She met Leah’s eyes, every bit of focus pouring into them, trying to match the look Leah had given her earlier. “Deal or not, I will be taking this. And you will be leaving.”
It was all Leah could do to shake her head, as somber and stubborn as ever. Regan was wrong, and this wasn’t her talking, and Leah would not let herself be discouraged by her falsehoods. Us. Curious. In Leah’s experience, possession was mostly a takeover, but ‘us’ implied more of a shared experience than two souls fighting to be at the forefront. It was a sliver of information, a crumb at best, but it was enough to ensure that the plan Leah had formulated was the smartest route she could take now. Even if it was stupid. “I didn’t say human. I said person. You’re as much of a person as I am, Regan. Fae and all.” Regan and her coyote companion’s stubbornness would not trump Leah’s, not if she had anything to do with it.
Their eyes may have been locked, but Leah’s focus was anywhere but Regan’s face. She knew what she had to do now, she only wished she decided to wear better shoes. “I will be leaving, thank you.” The moment Regan’s hand and attention were focused on the book, Leah’s was off of it and onto the skull. As quick as she could, she snatched the skull out of Regan’s hands and bound down her steps before she had a chance to look back. She used all of her strength and all of her focus and ran as fast as she could, sure that Regan was bounding after her and would catch her at a moment’s notice. But somehow, she made it to her car. And somehow, she got it to start. And somehow, she made it home with the skull in hand, ready to poke it and prod it and research it until she knew for sure how to get Regan back.
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