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werecat1234 · 3 months ago

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Multiverse Madness Chapter Fifty

Dream hadn't been able to track down Killer or Ink, despite how much he looked. Killer was invisible to his detection, just like Ink was, and they were either setting things on fire in already negative timelines, or they were going to timelines that there was simply no other life there. Even after being out of the stone for so long, Dream still had troubles narrowing down negative emotions outside of sensing auras, which had grown more difficult, likely due to Bill doing something to mask Nightmare's and Shattered's presences. Out of any allies Nightmare could've made, Bill was probably the most difficult for Dream to deal with, a fact Nightmare probably enjoyed greatly.

Dream sighed, standing in front of a forest house in the Zephyrtop, whose occupants wouldn't be happy to know about what had happened to Ink. The house was in Zephyrtop, and it was... colorful, to say the least. It was a mix of gothic and circus, with primarily cobblestone walls with colorful banners around the windows. The door was wooden, painted red, and there was a smaller, Ink-sized door in the middle of it, the windowsills were white with blots of other colors, and the roof of the two-story house was purple shingles with bits of confetti on them.

Ink had personally made the house for the Gasters he considered his father figures, and from what Dream heard, it was common for some sort of renovation or add-on to be made when Ink got inspiration for it. Dream had met them before, and they got along well, but as far as Dream knew, Top and Aster weren't aware of what happened between him and Ink, or what happened to Ink afterwards... Dream looked behind himself, seeing Error coming through a glitching white portal, and he was confused.

"error? what are you doing here?- wait, how do you know where this is?" Dream asked.

"reaper won't leave me alone, and ink dragged me here sometimes after we truced." Error shrugged.

Dream had no idea about that, honestly, and as much as he wanted to ask more about it, he needed to talk with them. He'd been putting it off long enough, anyways...

"and you're here avoiding reaper because...?" Dream trailed off.

"i don't feel like dealing with him, i don't want to talk to him about something i don't remember, much less want anything to do with." Error replied, "also if ink texts again that might be useful?"

"actually.... yeah, that would be." Dream nodded, "do you want to go in?"

"i mean that's the point of this, right?" Error questioned, and Dream sighed before nodding a bit.

He stepped up to the door, reaching up and pressing the balloon-shaped doorbell, which played a circus music theme for a few seconds before it stopped. The door opened, a Gaster standing there, who Dream recognized as Top. He was wearing a purple suit with mint green cuffs, a light yellow undershirt, a light blue tie, and black shoes.

"Hm? Oh, Dream, Error! Come in!" Top invited, opening the door for them, Dream stepping in first, and Error following him after a moment.

The inside of the house was also colorful, with a fluffy colorful carpet, which was black with splotches of color all over, or maybe it was a bunch of colors with splotches of black?... Dream didn't think he would ever be sure. The walls were cobblestone, and had several shelves lining them, most being pictures, but there was a lot of dragon sculptures, and there was countless knickknacks scattered all over the shelves. It was almost cluttered, but in a way that was homey and inviting. The living room was right ahead, with a dark purple couch with different black designs all over it, glitter in the black patterns. There were two recliners with the same designs, which were on either side of a cobblestone fireplace across from the couch. There was a black wood coffee table in front of the couch, colorful balloon coasters on it, and Top led them into the living room. Error sat down on one of the recliners, and Dream sat down on the other, watching as Top went over to a staircase over to his right.

"Aster! Dream and Error are here!" Top called out.

"Coming!" Aster replied, and Top headed back over to the living room, sitting down on the couch.

A moment later, Aster came down the stairs, wearing his black cloak, the edges outlined in light yellow on the top, fading down to light purple past his waist. His hood was down, he had two metal spikes on either shoulder, the bottom half of his sleeves were wide, tattered, and the purple on the insides. He was wearing brown gloves, mostly hidden under his sleeves, and he was wearing a beige sweater under his cloak. The bottoms of his cloak split off into three pieces on either side, the front ones having a purple and light yellow symbol at the tops.

He was wearing black pants, beige tall socks, and black boots, white had two purple straps on the bottoms and one at the tops. Aster also had a tail, skeletal and splitting off into two ends at the tip, and he wore a large black scarf that came from under his hood, but the scarf looked like feathery wings, and might even act as wings. The lines Gasters typically had were more damaged than normal, splitting off into shatter-like cracks, and his left eye socket contained a white diamond eyelight, his right eyelight a circle.

"I'm surprised to see you so soon, Error, and without Ink inviting you here." Aster noted as he sat next to Top, and Error grumbled a bit.

"sure, 'inviting' me is one way to put it..." Error mumbled.

"Speaking of, I haven't seen Ink in a while; is he ok?" Top asked, and Dream and Error exchanged glances, "I know he was upset about your falling out after Blue, but he's normally never gone for this long, even with how forgetful he can be..."

"umm... about that..." Dream trailed off, mournful, and he looked down, "something... something happened...."

"What happened?" Aster asked, growing tense, and Top put his hand on his, gently squeezing it to reassure him.

"after our umm... falling out... ink got captured... it was another version of me, but like nightmare, and he... he did something to him..." Dream frowned, looking down at his lap.

"Is he hurt?" Aster asked, his tail starting to lash, scarf ruffling up, and Top looked between him and Dream, concerned.

"well, he was pretty messed up the first time he showed up, covered in-" Error started to not even slightly gently explain, and Dream cut him off.

"he isn't as bad as he was before! something happened to him mentally, though. he hasn't drank his vials in weeks, error found them in an au, or what was left of it, and he's still going... he hasn't been immobilized yet..." Dream informed.

"That's.... odd..." Top said, "I've seen him without them before, and it didn't take long for him to lose his colors. Me and Aster had to have him drink them again in order to help him, but otherwise nothing worked. You said he's been like this for weeks?"

"yes." Dream verified.

". . . How bad is he hurt? And be honest with me." Aster left no room for refusals, and Dream frowned.

"i don't know the full extent. fresh said his left arm was messed up, though, but it seemed mostly healed, just scarred." Dream answered.

". . . What's this other version's name?" Aster questioned.

"he's been calling himself shattered." Dream replied.

"The next time you see Shattered, call me. I'll have Betelgeuse ready." Aster said.

"aster, he's-" Dream started to try talking him out of it.

"I don't care if he's powerful, he hurt my son." Aster's tail was definitely lashing now.

"Zeph, I know you're upset, believe me, I am too, but we can't rush into things. We'll need a plan.... which means me and you are going to skip game night and start making revenge plots." Top told him, and Aster smiled a bit.

"Oh yes we are." Aster agreed.

"you're gonna have to count in getting around ink, too. shattered basically turned him into a puppet. he's gonna be like a guard dog to that freak, and i don't think he'll hesitate to hurt you." Error informed.

"as much as i don't like it, error's right... i haven't seen ink hesitate to hurt anyone, including me... i've never seen him like this before, and i... if i could hate, i would hate this..." Dream's hands shook, and he looked down at them as he folded them in his lap.

"We'll get him back. Me and Aster will help you however we can." Top informed, "Just tell us when you find him, and we'll bring him home."

"good luck with that. ink's been a slippery little brat." Error huffed, "me and fresh were chasing him for a while earlier, and once we finally managed to corner him, he put up a fight. speaking of, he doesn't hold back anymore, and he's been... acting..."

"Acting?" Top asked, "Did he inherit my theatrics ability?"

"Babe, he's adopted-" Aster started.

"Shhhhhh." Top shushed softly, pressing a finger to his mouth.

Aster's cheekbones turned purple, and Top planted a quick kiss on his mouth, causing the color to darken. Dream personally found it adorable, and Error was just looking off to the side, quiet. Dream could still sense Error's emotions, some of which were pretty... complicated. Error had mixed feelings towards Reaper, half of him feeling a sense of affection towards him, and the other half of him hated that half and the emotion it made him feel. It was strange to sense, to say the least, but Error was strangely hiding his emotions well.

Once Top pulled his finger away, Aster's blush settled, and he asked, "What did you mean acting?"

"he's acting like he has emotions, even though he doesn't. he lets the act drop sometimes, but it's still freaky. he acts like he enjoys what he's doing. doesn't matter what it is. not to mention him acting sadistic and like a brat." Error described.

"That... definitely isn't like him." Top frowned.

"He may not care for everyone, only having a few he holds dear, but he's never enjoyed someone suffering..." Aster frowned.

"exactly. dream hasn't really seen it yet, which lucky him, but ink's still a brat." Error huffed.

"error, he's their son-" Dream started.

"and he's being a brat." Error cut him off.

"he's their son and he's not thinking clearly." Dream knew Error talking about Ink's behavior like this couldn't be easy to hear.

"obviously, because he's being a brat." Error responded, and Dream sighed.

"I'm sure he'll be back to normal soon." Top spoke up, "We'll help get him back, get him his vials, and kick Shattered's coccyx while we're at it." Top said.

"i hope so..." Dream mumbled.

Ink teleported himself and Dust to the abandoned genocide timeline he told Killer about, and his bones were rattling with energy. The coffee had seemed like a good idea at the time, Ink having needed something to stay awake. However, he was regretting it as he had nowhere to go with that energy, and that wasn't helping. It reminded him of his yellow paint which he no longer needed, but he felt nothing emotionally, yet physically he felt too much. He felt like he could do anything, like he could run through an entire AU from the Ruins to the Barrier, like he could fight even the strongest being and take them to Shattered, if that's what his boss wanted him to do. He felt unstoppable, but he knew he wasn't. He was hyper, not ignorant of his limits. Shattered taught him better than that. He looked around the AU, seeing Killer teleport near them before walking over.

"hey, killer!" Dust greeted, heading over to him, and they met in the middle.

"hey, dusty! ink got into the caffeine, huh?" Killer smirked.

"yeah." Dust sighed, "i told violet that it was a bad idea."

"he doesn't have good ideas often." Ink remarked.

"no kidding. heh, you almost look like a regular sans with how dilated your eyelights are." Killer remarked.

Ink tilted his skull at that, and Killer grabbed his knife, showing Ink his reflection. His eyelights were wide, and they were shaking slightly.

"oh." Ink hummed, looking around.

Those trees all looked extremely climbable, like he could race up one, jump down and climb up another, if he didn't leap to another tree from the first one he climbed-

"woah woah woah, buddy." Killer grabbed his arm, and Ink realized he'd started running towards the trees, "take it easy, ok?"

"yeah, you passed out as soon as shattered came to get us, you woke up, and then you drank coffee to stay awake. you might feel energized, but you could still get hurt if you're sluggish." Dust agreed.

"so no trees?" Ink made himself sound disappointed.

"no trees." Killer denied, and Ink made himself frown.

"i can heal from anything." Ink pointed out.

"that doesn't mean you should have to." Dust told him.

Ink was quiet at that, looking off to the side, and he asked, "then can we set snow on fire?"

"snow's not flammable, pal." Killer informed, "we've already tried it."

"damn." Ink cursed quietly.

"but those trees are." Dust said.

"do you just want to set them on fire so i can't climb them?" Ink asked.

". . . let's start a forest fire!" Killer changed the subject, Dust silent, and Ink guessed the answer was a yes.

"can we make s'mores with the fire?" Ink questioned.

"i don't think you need more sugar, ink." Dust told him, "seems risky."

"what's the worst that could happen?" Killer asked.

". . ." Dust gave him a blank look.

". . . fair point." Killer sighed.

"what was the point?" Ink tilted his skull.

"that you don't need more energy." Killer replied, and Ink made himself pout.

"you don't gotta pout, y'know." Killer informed.

"i thought people were supposed to be annoying when hyper?" Ink questioned.

". . . ok fair." Killer relented.

"any tips?" Ink asked him.

"yeah, killer would know." Dust snickered, receiving a playful elbow from Killer.

"no, you would know, little brother~" Killer responded.

"you're literally being annoying right now!" Dust informed.

"nuh uh!" Killer denied.

"you can't resort to nuh uh every time!!" Dust snapped.

"yuh uh!" Killer grinned.

"killer, i swear to god!!!" Dust glared, and Killer snickered.

Ink tried taking the chance to get to a tree, thinking climbing just one wouldn't be a problem, but Killer was still gently but firmly holding his arm, preventing Ink from leaving. He was so filled with energy, and yet he couldn't get it out while Dust and Killer bickered like siblings. He wasn't impatient per say, but his bones thrummed with the need to move, the urge to get the caffeine out of his body, and he tried pulling Killer towards the trees, but the taller skeleton had his feet firmly planted in the snow. Ink tried more insistently, starting to run, only to find himself going nowhere, lifted off of the ground and held in the air. Ink turned his skull to glare at him a bit, and Killer just smirked at him.

Ink made himself sigh, "you've got to be kidding me."

Killer chuckled, putting him down, only to lift him back up once Ink tried running again.

"not so fast, pal. i know ya wanna burn off energy, sure, but you gotta stay in our sight. reality's abducted us before, he might try it with you, and there's no way of tracking you." Killer pointed out, and Ink sighed again.

"how is there any guarantee he'd be watching?" Ink asked.

"how is there any guarantee he's not?" Killer countered, and Ink looked off to the side.

He had a point...

"ok, fine..." Ink relented.

"paps has a point, we could do laps around snowdin." Dust spoke up, and Ink looked over at him.

Shattered instructed him not to tell Dust that 'Papyrus' was just a hallucination, and that he wasn't real, so Ink stayed quiet. Most Dusts and Murders hallucinated their dead brothers in different ways. Some were created from grief, some were magic constructs created by the wants and desires of the soul, twisted by LV to be horrific and twisted as the minds who brought them to existence, and were visible to others, mainly monsters with LV or who had a bond.

Others were actually able to manifest from leftover magic from Papyrus himself, latched onto the Sans's soul, but they were fragments of who the skeleton had been, or twisted by LV. Ink knew a Dusttale Sans in the Omega Timeline that came from a variant like this; he was in the popular band there, if he remembered correctly. He was, Ink knew he was; he could never forget a second when he was like this.

"what about the arson?" Ink questioned.

"oh that's the fun part. run around with a molotov and throw it if you have a good shot at something. then run around the flames." Dust smirked, and Ink nodded.

"sounds like a plan to me, dusty." Killer agreed, and so they started.

The three of them went to the Grillby's, grabbing every bottle of liquor there, along with all of the curtains and bedsheets from the Sans's and Papyrus's house, and they made mototovs using some lighters they found. Despite Ink not being able to forget anything, the next half hour passed in a blur, Ink, Dust, and Killer running all over the town, teleporting back to the bottles they'd lined up, grabbing them, and continuing. By the end, when Ink had burned off most off the energy, him, Killer, and Dust regrouped, most of the town in flames. Dust made a large pile of snow before sitting down on it, Killer doing the same, and Ink followed suit. Dust grabbed one of the unused bottles, popping the lid off, and taking a drink.

"couldn't help yourself, could ya?" Killer teased, grabbing a bottle for himself.

"why do you drink that stuff, anyways?" Ink asked.

"eh, habit?" Dust shrugged, "used to be a crutch for a long time, and it still kinda is, even if killing doesn't bother me anymore. high lv does that to you."

"but your first kills get to you?" Ink guessed, and Dust looked down.

". . . yeah. sometimes the voices get loud and the screams get louder. the booze drowns it out, and otherwise the lv does a good job... if it doesn't wear off too fast..." Dust looked off to the side.

"lv is addictive for that reason. it makes your pain lessen, but as you get more of it, it causes more pain, and then you need more lv to take it away, if only for a little." Ink said, looking down at the snow, "by the time those afflicted realize it, they can't stop. they just want the pain to stop, so they keep killing, relentless, trying to end their own suffering the only way they know how. it isn't just the power it gives you, it's the relief."

Ink looked up to see Killer and Dust looking at him in mild surprise, and Ink stayed quiet, unsure of what else to say.

". . . that's.. actually really accurate..." Dust admitted, looking away again.

"i know everything about the multiverse, i know what lv does to people. it's one of the main fundamental facts that makes up the multiverse itself, with how influential lv can be in scripts. it exists in every au." Ink mentioned.

"scripts?" Killer asked.

"it's how an au is supposed to go; the events that take place. every timeline is another script, created by differing events. your scripts were.... unfortunate, but there's countless others like you, with countless variants. there would be more if error hadn't destroyed so many, but there's still so many regardless." Ink explained.

"huh... so we just drew the short stick, huh?" Killer questioned.

"depends on how you look at it." Ink shrugged, "you could've ended up much worse."

"that's... totally reassuring." Dust attempted, and Ink made himself laugh a bit.

"how many timelines did nightmare and dream have?" Killer asked.

"only one, this one. granted there were other alternative ways things could have gone, but each of those timelines is in an alternate multiverse." Ink answered, "some aus just simply have one set path per multiverse; one script. dreamtale is one of those."

"that has to help dream's ego, having his damn au named after him." Dust grumbled.

"what's your beef with dream, anyways?" Killer questioned, "you never said."

"huh... i guess i never told you..." Dust mumbled, taking a long drink of the alcohol in his hand, finishing the bottle, "you wanna know?"

"uh... yes!" Killer replied, "the first time you saw him you were pissed!"

". . ." Dust sighed, "alright, alright. well, i actually knew dream before nightmare even showed up." That was a surprise to Ink. "he showed up thinking i was the threat, and he helped that damn thing that was killing everyone over and over."

". . . what?" Ink asked.

"yeah." Dust sighed, fists clenching after discarding the bottle by throwing it into the forest, "he kept interfering when i'd try beating the human to the kills, he'd fight me, which gave them enough time to kill whoever i was trying to kill while we were fighting, and then he'd help them stop me at the end."

"that..." Ink didn't know what to say to that.

That didn't sound like Dream at all. It might've been some form of imposter; the multiverse was full of shapeshifters, and Ink could think of a large number who had it out for Dream and would try souring his reputation, but he wasn't about to say that. If Dust hated Dream, that wasn't Ink's problem. Shattered would actually view it as useful, so Ink didn't deny anything Dust said.

"wait, seriously? no wonder you're so pissed at that guy!" Killer responded.

"yeah, between that and what he did to cross, i hate his nonexistent guts." Dust grumbled, and Killer looked off to the side with narrowed eye sockets.

"what'd he do to cross?" Ink asked, admittedly curious.

"he didn't tell you that either?" Dust questioned, and Ink shook his skull no.

"well, after cross joined, him and dream went off on their own, remember that?" Dust started, and Ink nodded, "well, turns out dream messed with his head; tried turning him on us."

"he just said he talked to him to me." Ink mentioned.

"he lied." Dust said, angry, but it wasn't directed at Ink, "after that fight cross was off; different, and then nightmare figured out what happened. killer had to help nightmare help cross, which entailed fighting him."

Ink wasn't sure what to say to that. It didn't sound like Dream either, but this couldn't have been a shapeshifter. Maybe Ink wasn't the only one lying during the duration of their friendship. Dream had abandoned him, after all, so maybe he didn't know Dream as much as he'd thought he had. If he had emotions, that would probably hurt a bit, but he didn't, so all he felt was cold indifference to it.

"yeah, that... that wasn't a fun day..." Killer sighed, and Ink realized how tired he'd been getting.

His eye sockets were heavy, and his limbs were heavier. He couldn't sleep without Shattered nearby, though. He knew how much Shattered wanted to protect him when he was vulnerable, and how much that might be needed. His boss was the best...

"i think i'm going to head back to the castle, see if shattered's back yet." Ink informed, making himself get up before he grew too tired to do so.

"you ok?" Dust asked.

"yeah, just tired." Ink nodded, stumbling a little, but he steadied himself as Killer and Dust got up to help him.

"you need me to teleport you back?" Killer offered.

"no, i've got it, thank you..." Ink denied, grabbing Broomie from it's sash, "see you around?"

"yeah, see you." Killer agreed, and Ink teleported himself back to Shattered's castle, not missing the look the exchanged as he left.

Ink appeared back in Shattered's castle, looking around tiredly as he wished Shattered could have stayed earlier to let him sleep. Shattered had had to take care of something at that Predatortale AU, and had had Ink wake up so he could deal with it. He was still behaving strangely, as ever since the attacks, Shattered had been acting weird, and Ink didn't like it.

He'd seen Shattered angry, he'd seen him happy, he'd seen him happy and angry, but he'd never seen him like this. He didn't know how to handle it, and he didn't like that fact. Ink walked through the root hallways, heading to his room, where Shattered had informed him he'd be waiting before he'd gone to Predatortale. Ink's movements were still somehow managing to grow more and more sluggish, his feet practically dragging on the floor as he approached his room.

The hallway spun slightly, and Ink held himself up on one of the walls, standing there and waiting for the dizziness to pass. Once it did, he kept walking, nearing his room, and he finally reached the door, pushing it open. Shattered was already sitting on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, and Ink walked further into the room, closing the door behind himself.

Ink started to bow, remembering the requirement after taking a few steps in, but he lost his balance, starting to fall. Luckily for him, Shattered caught him, extending his tentacles to catch him before he hit the ground. Ink looked up at him, giving him a tired expression of thanks, and Shattered lifted him up with his tentacles, putting him at the end of the bed.

"you don't need to bow this time, ink. not when you can barely walk." Shattered informed, an amused smirk on his face.

Ink nodded a bit, crawling over to him, something that made Shattered's smirk grow, and Ink tucked himself snugly against Shattered's right leg, his skull pressed against Shattered's hip, resting on his upper femur. Shattered pulled a fluffy black blanket over him, and as exhausted as he was, he still wanted to know why Shattered had been acting strange earlier. He seemed to be in a good mood now, but otherwise he'd been... off.

"boss?" Ink spoke up, looking up at him, and Shattered's amber eyelight looked down at him.

"yes, ink?" Shattered responded.

"why were you acting weird after the attacks?" Ink asked, and Shattered looked off to the side, "am i allowed to ask about that?"

Shattered sighed, "you are, i suppose, despite it being... complicated. i'd prefer you didn't ask about it; it's nothing you need to worry about, ink. i'm fine."

Shattered rubbed his skull reassuringly, despite the fact that Ink couldn't even feel concerned or worried, just confused. The look on his face was similar to the ones Dream had always had, as much as Ink tried to ignore that fact, but with the same attire, Ink found it difficult not to make comparisons.

"boss? why do you look like dream, even though you're nothing like him?" Ink questioned.

"well, it's mainly a way of pissing him off." Shattered smirked as he answered, before tilting his skull, asking, "why do you ask?"

"i was just curious." Ink replied.

"you didn't think i had the same fashion sense as my brother, did you?" Shattered chuckled, and Ink made himself smile a bit, but it showed how forced it was more than he wanted it to.

"no, boss." Ink shook his skull no.

"good. i still can't believe he can dress like a hobo and wear a crown like that." Shattered said, and Ink made himself laugh at Shattered's joke.

He was allowed to laugh at Shattered's jokes, just not at Shattered himself.

Shattered's form shifted after a few moments, rippling, altering his clothes. After a moment, the process was finished, with Shattered wearing a black sweater and pants, an amber belt around his waist, and a black vest appeared above his shirt, with dark amber cuffs and edges. There was a flare up around his neck, which faded to dark amber, and his shoulders were dark amber as well. Ink glanced down, seeing he had high heeled boots now, which were black with dark amber around the tops and in the soles and heels. Nightmare was probably going to hate that Shattered was taller than him now. Oh well.

"i wish i could've stayed here so you could sleep earlier, but things came up." Shattered told him after looking at him for a moment.

"it's ok, boss." Ink reassured him, eye sockets heavier.

"still, you poor thing..." Shattered cupped his cheekbone, his thumb rubbing under one of Ink's eye sockets, where Ink knew there was a dark mark present from his exhaustion, "you didn't sleep enough last night?"

"error and fresh chasing me and dust wore me out, so did killing the monsters in those aus... the fight with fresh took most of what was left of my stamina..." Ink explained, "the coffee kept me awake longer, though."

"ah, i see. an eventful day then, huh?" Shattered observed, and Ink nodded, "well, at least it's over now, and you can get your rest."

Ink wrapped an arm around Shattered's waist, something that made Shattered grin, and Ink said, "thank you, boss."

"of course, ink." Shattered smiled, petting Ink's skull, "you've earned it."

"boss?" Ink spoke up again.

"yes?" Shattered asked.

"what did you need to do in predatortale before?" Ink questioned.

"oh that? you'll see soon enough, don't worry." Shattered smirked, "well actually, you can't worry, so just don't let it occupy too much of that head of yours."

Shattered lightly tapped on Ink's skull for emphasis, and Ink nodded.

"of course not, boss." Ink pulled himself closer, and Shattered grinned down at him.

"good boy. now, get some sleep. you need it, after all." Shattered purred, and Ink felt his exhaustion grow exponentially at the word 'sleep'.

It was likely from Shattered using his sleeping magic on Ink to make him sleep, so Ink didn't resist it, letting it swallow him. He closed his eye sockets, feeling Shattered petting his skull, and he felt his body go figuratively boneless. Shattered chuckled, the sound seeming faint, and that was the last thing Ink processed before he fell fast asleep.

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asterhaze · 2 years ago

Note

Maybe note horror enough but: you work at a zoo/aquarium and all the animals start to watch you, but not at you, above you

You sent this in so long ago and I'm very sorry this took so long. But here you go! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it after I finally got a good idea for it.

The Zoo

I stand next to Adrienne. The wind blows around her, ruffling her sundress, and it makes her look like she’s dancing even as she stands there. Motionless isn’t a state of being Adrienne knows. She’s a tall and thin thing, tall enough that it’s noticeable when the birds look just above her head. Watching something that no one else can see. Except me.

Gray skin clings lazily to their thin bones underneath, hidden only by billowing robes made of shadow and thick smoke. While the birds watch the creature, the creature is watching Adrienne with a soft, almost sad, look in their softly glowing crimson eyes. They squeeze her shoulder softly and Adrienne rolls her shoulder uncomfortably. The creature shifts their hand, slowly, tenderly, down her arm to rest on her elbow. That’s when I look away and pretend like the birds are interesting again.

They’re so colorful, green and blue, and so is Adrienne, yellow and soft pink, compared to the creature. A misty mess of gray and darker gray. The birds become bored and look at me, right at me, like they should, for just a moment before looking back at the creature that towers over Adrienne. I turn to walk away but Adrienne stops me when she clears her throat. Even an ugly sound like that, from her, is like music played by the hands of angels.

“Don’t you like birds?” Adrienne asks, softly, a whisper out of place.

“I want to see the monkeys.” I admitted, nodding my head towards another set of cages.

I always enjoy bringing those who carry the creature with them to the zoo. No one, except animals, can seem to see the thing. I remember my first reaction to seeing a creature. Pure shock, shaking knees, the undeniable and nearly uncontrollable urge to go to the bathroom. All of that in a second before I realized…the creatures don’t seem to see me either. Or at least, they don’t have any interest in me.

We have to pass the lions before going to the monkey cage. The lions care very little for the creature that follows my friends. They yawn lazily in the blistering July sun, roll their eyes before rolling over, exposing the soft parts of their bellies, and lifting their gigantic paws in the air. I’ve gotten them to stay there for half an hour like that once, when I convinced a friend there was something wrong with them and we should watch. I’m still angry that the zookeeper came out and convinced the lions to go inside their little hidey holes for a meal.

The monkeys, immediately upon our descent, begin jumping and hooting and hollering while pointing at Adrienne. They bounce around, all knuckles and feet, trying desperately to find things along the ground and it isn’t long before we are jumping out of our skin as rocks and twigs thunk loudly against the thick bullet-proof glass of their cage. Adrienne grabs me, her hands as cold as ice and sweaty against my arms, as she giggles like mad.

I don’t think I’d be giggling if their reaction hadn’t been an especially boisterous one. I’d brought enough people out here that they’d been reacting less and less. Yet, they seemed to lose their minds. They weren’t new monkeys; I recognized a few of them by their markings or the patterns in which they jumped around. I came here a lot by myself, to watch them, and while they were never calm or easy to keep track of, I’d figured out who was who.

Adrienne motioned for us to continue, toward the great apes. I disagreed, I hated bringing the creature in that direction. If the monkeys were already throwing things, getting the zookeepers and zoo-goers all riled up, what would happen if one of the big apes lost their minds? Hell, we very well might all die.

But Adrienne was beautiful and charming in her quietness, so much so that when she actually spoke it commanded you in a gentle way to do whatever she wanted. So we went toward the big apes. When we found them, they seemed calm, despite looking right over Adrienne’s head and glancing away. We continued, bored at their disinterest. At least birds would cock their heads and hop around. These apes just sat around, eating this or that, would look at us for a moment and then look at something else. Like there was nothing to even see.

Finally, we saw the orangutans. One was leaned over, face smashed on the glass, and perked up in interest when he saw Adrienne walk over. Slowly he lifted a finger and pointed right over her head, jabbing it at the glass and making small ponk sounds. Adrienne humored him, looking over her head, but it was obvious that she saw nothing. The orangutan started smacking its lips before it looked over at me and continued pointing. I decided, against my better judgment, to look over her head and look at the creature. It was still there, in all of its wispy glory, hand still held tight to her arm. I looked back at the orangutan, nearly jumping out of my skin as it was now pointing at me, squarely in the chest.

I looked along the cage of the orangutans and all three of them were staring at me. As if they were staring straight past me, through me, into something else. Slowly the orangutan’s finger slid up the glass, stopping just above my head. And as my eyes traced its finger, I saw the shadow of a creature just behind me, just above my head.

#original fiction #horror fiction #horror story #writers of tumblr #writeblr #writing #writers #writblr #writerblr #write #writing community #seriously feel free to tag me #aster asked #aster answers

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alexesguerra · 7 months ago

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Soulflower Plant Spirit Oracle: 44-Card Deck and Guidebook Soulflower Plant Spirit Oracle: 44-Card Deck and Guidebook Contributor(s): Estabrook, Lisa (Author) ---Brand New--- Physical Info: 1.5" H x 7.6" L x 5.2" W (1.15 lbs) Pub Date: March 29, 2022 A high-vibration oracle set to help you connect with the wisdom of plant spirits and tend the garden of your soul - Includes 44 full-color cards featuring the author's vibrant Soulflower paintings along with empowering and insightful messages from the plant spirits - Offers more in-depth guidance from each Soulflower plant spirit in the accompanying guidebook, along with suggestions to help you embody the lessons shared Each flower or plant species has its own plant spirit, or deva, who radiates a unique healing energy and embodies specific soul qualities and universal spiritual truths. These soul energies are also present in each one of us like small seeds, dormant and waiting for the right conditions to sprout and grow. In this high-vibration, full-color deck, artist and plant whisperer Lisa Estabrook presents 44 beautiful and vivid Soulflower oracle cards, along with empowering and insightful messages from each card's plant spirit, to help you tend the garden of your soul. The cards are designed to help you remember the simple truth that all of Nature is sharing--that we are cyclical beings intimately entwined with the Earth and all of life. Working with the cards will help you connect directly to your own inner wisdom, your intuition, like a mirror reflecting back at you the truth of what's in your heart. For example, Chamomile reflects the soul quality of stability and its plant spirit reveals how, even on a cloudy day, the sun is still shining--it is just obscured. For Bleeding Heart, the soul quality is independence and its plant spirit helps you to recognize and strengthen the true source of your heart's power. In the accompanying guidebook Lisa offers ideas on how to use the Soulflower cards for daily self-reflection and personal growth. She includes a longer, deeper message from each Soulflower plant spirit as well as suggestions to help you embody the lessons shared. She shows how working with the cards provides potent plant spirit medicine to help you reconnect to Nature, recognize patterns in your thoughts, words, and actions, and expand your awareness of what is happening around and within you. By working with the Soulflower cards, you can learn from the plant spirits and awaken the seeds of your own inner wisdom and intuition. As your understanding of the flowers and the interconnectivity of all of Nature deepens, so does your understanding of yourself. And understanding yourself is true empowerment. About the Author Lisa Estabrook is an artist, wayshower, herbalist, and plant whisperer who has spent the last 30 years remembering how to create a meaningful, heart-led, healthy, and joyful life with plant spirits as her loving guides. The founder of the online Soulflower CommUNITY Garden, Lisa lives in Yarmouth, Maine. Table of Contents: Preface Introduction: My Sacred Why 1. Tending the Garden of Your Soul 2. Starting with the Soil Any Time 3. Planting Seeds Early Spring/New Moon 4. Supporting Growth Spring/Waxing Moon 5. Blooming Summer/Full Moon 6. Garden Clean-Up Autumn/Waxing Moon 7. Rest and Renewal Winter/Dark Moon 8. Plant Spirits 9. Cultivating a Daily Practice Sacred Gardening THE SOULFLOWER PLANT SPIRITS Aster - Illumination Bee Balm - Vibrance Black-Eyed Susan - Recognition Bleeding Heart - Independence Borage - Optimism Calendula - Communication Campanula - Alignment Chamomile - Stability Chickweed - Tolerance Columbine - Abundance Crocus - Opening Daffodil - Perception Dandelion - Release Daylily - Centering Echinacea - Consciousness Evening Primrose - Rebirth Forget-Me-Not - Awareness Hawthorn - Courage Hellebore - Empowerment Hydrangea - Transmutation Iris - Inspiration Lady's Mantle - Nurturance Lady's Slipper - Connection Lavender - Restoration Milk Thistle - Forgiveness Mugwort - Integration Nasturtium - Vitality Nettle - Transformation Pansy - Resonance Periwinkle - Intertwining Plumbago - Understanding Purple Poppy - Evolution Red Clover - Tranquility Rose - Joy Rosemary - Clarity Self-Heal - Responsibility Speedwell - Insight Stargazer Lily - Surrender Sunflower - Confidence Velvetleaf - Self-Love White Pine - Wisdom Wood Betony - Grounding Yarrow - Boundaries Zinnia - Lightheartedness Review Quotes: Lisa Estabrook is an artist, mother, way shower, writer, home herbalist and plant whisperer working with the Soulflower plant spirits to remember, embody, heal and restore Divine Feminine consciousness on our beautiful Earth. Her work includes the Soulflower Plant Spirit Oracle and The Daily Practice Journal. Lisa's maintains an informative website at www.mysoulflower.com where she features a growing range of beautiful, intentional, healing tools to inspire and deepen your relationship with your intuition, your heart, and the planet through the power of art and flowers. Unique, inspiring, meditative, thought-provoking, Soulflower Plant Spirit Oracle: 44-Card Deck and Guidebook is a truly extraordinary and unreservedly recommended addition to personal and professional metaphysical and tarot studies collections.-- "Midwest Book Review" Biographical Note: Lisa Estabrook is an artist, wayshower, herbalist, and plant whisperer who has spent the last 30 years remembering how to create a meaningful, heart-led, healthy, and joyful life with plant spirits as her loving guides. The founder of the online Soulflower CommUNITY Garden, Lisa lives in Yarmouth, Maine.

#Lisa Estabrook #Soulflower #Plant Spirit Oracle

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stellarluminosity · 1 year ago

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Constellation: Centaurus

For stargazers living between the latitudes of 25°N to 90°S, look towards the southern skies for Centaurus as May approaches.

Being the 9th largest constellation, it covers an area of 1060 square degrees. This particular patch of sky has a lot to offer since it is embedded in a splendidly bright and intricate part of the Milky Way. For me, the entire expanse of sky encompassing Scorpio, Sagittarius and Centaurus? *chefs kiss* (There are so many interesting deep space objects to see in Centaurus so I’ll probably talk more about it in another post)

For most of the illustrated star maps, Centaurus was always shown to be spearing or sacrificing Lupus, the adjacent wolf constellation. It is said to represent an ancient pagan festival known as Lupercalia and Centaurus is bringing Lupus to the sacrificial altar, Ara. In Babylonian culture, the constellation was depicted as the Bison-man and associated it with their Sun god Utu. Others relate the constellation to the wise Chiron, mentor of great Greek heroes such a Achilles, Asclepius and Heracles to name a few.

Stars of Centaurus

Its a wonderment to stare at this patch of sky since it contains approximately 281 stars below the mag. 6.5 (the dimmest stars that can be observed by the unaided eye) within its borders. It can be overwhelming but 11 main stars can be joined to resemble the outline of a classical centaur. Only 9 stars have official names recognized by the IAU. I have them labelled in the image above along with the meanings behind those names for a lil trivia. The names are mostly of Arabic and Chinese origins.

It boasts magnificent star clusters and home to the two brightest stars of the night sky. Leading the way are Rigel Kentaurus (α-cen) and Hadar (β-cen) forming the front feet of the centaur. These 2 stars are also an important asterism in navigation as mentioned in a previous post called as “the pointers” aiding in identifying the Southern Cross. Holding the position as the 4th and 10th brightest star in the night sky, α & β-cen blazes at an apparent mag of -0.27 & 0.61. They are hard to miss.

Rigel Kentaurus is a triple star system consisting of:

Rigil Kentaurus itself (α-centauri A) & Toliman (α-Centauri B)- 2 sun-like stars locked in a binary orbit of 79.9 years.

Proxima Centauri (α-Centauri C) – An 11th magnitude red dwarf that needs a telescope to be seen. Famously known as the closest star to our Sun only 4.24 LY away. Only discovered in 1915 since it was so faint. It is an outlying member of the triple star system with an orbital period around 550,000 years!

I must at least mention the Omega Centauri Cluster

That fuzzy spot on the centaur's back is one of the oldest star clusters. Believed to be at least 12 million years old. Almost as ancient as the universe itself. It is also the largest known globular cluster in the Milky Way, estimated to have 1 million stars. This cluster holds many titles along with being the closest cluster to our solar system at 17,000 LY away. With that, it shines as the brightest globular cluster in the night sky.

Identifying Centaurus

There are 2 known patterns for Centaurus as you can see here. The one on the left is official pattern recognized by the IAU. The right side is more commonly used in other star maps or references. When it comes to identifying constellations, its better to stick with anything less convoluted so we'll go for the right side. This version simplifies Centaurus's upper body into a stick figure.

The easiest way to locate Centaurus is by looking for Crux first facing southward. The pointers (α&β-Cent) & Crux are basically a matching set and the fact that they are fairly bright stars make it even easier to locate! Once you got the Pointers, make your way up to Alnair, Muhlifain & Birdun. These are fairly bright stars of mag. 2 that form a right-angled-triangle-lower-body. When you get a hold of that triangle, you're all set! Simply move upwards and try to visualize a stick figure.

Most of the stars that make up the torso are quite dim (mag. 2.5 -4) making it even harder to make anything out of it for beginners. I used to call that area as "a huge mess" It helps to start from Alnair (top of the triangle) and go upwards to the center, Mu & Nu- Cent. Then, upwards to Menkent, a fairly bright orange star of app. mag. of 2.04. From there work your way out to the arms. Same goes for the hind legs. Best time to view the centaur is in May where it is fully upright in the sky in its full glory at 10pm onward.

Happy star hunting!

#astronomy #stargazing #space #stars #constellations #nature #navigation #chiron #constellation #centaurus #alpha centauri #universe

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 9 months ago

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hey listen you know what they say - better late than pregnant!!!! so at least you're not panicking like reader and Draco lmao

only I could turn a super fluffy prompt into a super angsty fic lmao <33

it is also so fun hearing your comments on this after you have read the prequel and we have discussed so many ideas about this pairing lmao

"since his first failed attempt on the mission he had been given last year" WHICH IS THE PREQUEL I READ ????? or the Dumbledore thing? its the Dumbledore thing -> I don't remember the exact context of this line but I am pretty sure it is the prequel you read!!!!!

"“A store bought test potion?” Draco hissed" DONT BE MEAN TO ME!!!! WHAT IF I MADE ONE MYSELF AND YOUR MOTHER SAW ME ???? WHAT IF SHE RECOGNIZED THE INGREDIENTS ????? "gathering the ingredients for a pregnancy test potion" EXACTLY !!!!! THANK YOU READER !!!! -> you are always three steps ahead mentally <3

"two of you got married, when Dumbledore’s dead body was barely cold" 😧😧😧😧 THIS IS WHY YOU WANTED ME TO READ THIS BEFORE TALKING ABOUT THE WEDDING !!!!! -> I am so excited to tell you more of my ideas about the wedding omg (it involves a black wedding dress because it's soooo gothic death eater aesthetic)

"And then - in a moment, he felt a fierce sense of protectiveness wash over him" LETS FUCKING GO !!!!!! -> protective Draco really hits different. because he has such a pattern of selfishness, and when it finally breaks it, it's like WOAAAAAAAHHHH

"Draco, can you please explain to your daughter" YAAAAAAY !!!!! -> I had so much fun writing Aster <33

"something she had just learned how to do that she was eager to show off her expertise in" THAT'S FUCKING ADORABLE !!!!! -> again, writing little kids by using my experience from being around kids irl - they do this kind of stuff all the time. they will learn something like tying shoes or opening a drink and be like 'NOW I must show YOU how to do it'

im SO OBSESSED WITH THEM !!!!! OH MY GOD !!!!! -> NOW YOU UNDERSTAND WHY I AM !!!!

My Bleeding Heart

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary:

When Draco finds out that you are pregnant, he can't bring himself to be happy about the news because he doesn't want to bring a child into this wartorn world just to be another pawn in the Dark Lord's games. So, then and there, he makes a very important decision to risk everything in order to protect you and his future child.

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage. Angst (with a Fluffy Ending). Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 3,400

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader is pregnant in this fic; this is set during Deathly Hallows and there are a lot of themes from that era - death, blood purity ideals, general violence, murder, mentions of Draco being tasked with killing Dumbledore; Draco and the reader live in an environment where they fear for their lives because they don't believe in Death Eater values completely and fear being killed for it; Draco and the reader are in an arranged marriage meant to carry on blood purity - but they have fallen in love in the marriage; the reader is a pureblood, but I have not mentioned her being related to any canon characters, so her appearance/race is not defined; general emotional angst - Draco fears for his own life, your life, and the fate of your unborn child if they are born into pureblood society; in the first half, there is some arguing/tension between Draco and the reader (but it's mostly due to the emotional tension of their situation); mentions of Dumbledore's death; non detailed mentions of sex (that's how we got the baby, duh) (sadly no smut); passing mention of abortion/pregnancy termination (they both want the child but fear for the child's safety in this environment); semi-graphic mentions of consensually inflicted injuries - Draco gets the reader to cut off the skin with his Dark Mark on it so that he can't be tracked or summoned with it; these warnings make it seem like a really dark fic but the ending is really fluffy I promise; toward the end, the reader and Draco have a toddler who refers to them as 'Mummy' and 'Daddy', and I think that is about it.

Author's Notes: The prompt of 'character finds out you are pregnant' was originally from the fluff prompts list, but because this is Draco, I couldn't help but to throw some angst in here. Because I imagine that if Draco was still living with his parents and surrounded by Death Eaters and the blood purity ideals, he would be very hesitant to want a child of his own because he wouldn't want a child to be tainted by all of it the way that he had been. Because at a certain point, the pride he felt turned sour. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy because this does get fluffy toward the end.

...

Terror.

That was the very first thing Draco could tangibly say that he was feeling.

The last two years of his life had been a sickening rollercoaster of utter chaos, and quite frankly, he had become numb to it all. He had to force himself to be numb, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived. And currently, survival was his only feasible goal. But this - this news touching his ears was one thing that woke up his senses from that numbness and sent him rocketing into the harshness of reality. This made him feel again, in the worst ways. Suddenly he was nauseous, shaking, blood rocketing against his ear drums, creating a harsh thumping in seconds.

He wished that he had heard you wrong.

“Are - are you sure?” He stuttered out, feeling his hands becoming exceptionally clammy as he clutched them around nothing, his feet unsteady on the ground.

You saw him becoming remarkably pale for someone who was already so papery toned on a normal day, and you worried that he was going to faint. You worried that his harsh reaction meant that he hated the idea of you being pregnant - that he was angry with you. Of course, you realised that the fault wasn’t all on you, that was just nature. But part of you thought that he put the onus on you to take care of birth control, using potions or spells, because he had been worried about so many other things since the start of your relationship.

Up until now, you weren’t sure if you wanted what they wanted. You weren’t naive enough to look beyond the reason you had married Draco in the first place. You were there to produce the next pureblood heir with him. Originally, you had thought it was romantic, in a sense. But when you had met Draco’s family, the people he was surrounded with, the people who called themselves Death Eaters - you realised that it most certainly wasn’t an ideal environment to bring a child into.

Killing at the drop of a hat, torturing, murdering the innocent - those weren’t ideals that you wanted your child to be brought up on.

“Draco, sit down, please,” You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to usher him toward one of the expensive chairs sitting in the corner of his room.

You had stolen him away for a rare moment of privacy between meetings and Death Eaters traipsing around the house. These days, his parents always demanded that the two of you make good on appearances because you were supposed to be the sweet young couple, the future of the pureblood line.

“Are you sure?” He whispered the question much more harshly, the words hissed through his lips like pure venom as he desperately waited for you to confirm it.

He let himself be guided by you and collapsed down into the chair, sitting with his head in his hands, ruffling up his usually neat, slicked-back hair with rough, stressful fingers through it.

Your stomach twisted with your own unique stress as you watched him. You hadn’t seen him so distraught since his first failed attempt on the mission he had been given last year.

“I’m sure.” You said. “I went to the apothecary and got one of the test potions-”

“A store bought test potion?” Draco hissed.

He gave you the harshest glare that you had ever seen from him, which was saying something considering the looks of pure disdain he had given you upon first meeting. His jaw was set so tightly that it looked as though his molars were going to crush in on themselves at any moment.

Your posture shrunk back, desperately trying to hide from his invasive stare. You wished that you could have burrowed under the floorboards at that point.

You knew that it was fear and panic about the situation at large, all the death you had been surrounded with compounding onto him. But you hated that he was inadvertently taking it out on you.

After a moment of you not speaking, Draco continued.

“I should have made it myself, if you had just told me-”

“Yes, and nobody would have become suspicious if you were mulling around, gathering the ingredients for a pregnancy test potion.” You snapped back.

Draco’s face grew even more sickly at this, and you knew that you were both silently on the same page - nobody else in the house could know that you were pregnant. If they even suspected it, then it was over.

He heaved a sigh, gathering all of his thoughts before he chose one to bring to open air.

“Were you seen?” He asked, still tearing into you indignantly, talking to you as though you were stupid.

“No.” You told him, entirely certain. “I wore a large cloak with a hood, it was dark. Nobody recognized me.”

He gave you a distinct frown that said he was unsure of the truth in your words, and you rushed to trample over his potential sarcastic remark with your own.

“I suppose they don’t recognize me when I’m not on your arm, anyway.”

You scoffed out the last part, talking about this fact with distaste even though in actuality it was something you loved. You felt safe when you were with Draco. You couldn’t imagine facing the scowling faces without his arm around you.

But you knew that’s all you were in this society - Draco’s wife. That’s all you had been labelled as since you had been shipped over from America by your godmother.

You were the last of your noble pureblood family’s line. Your parents had been killed by Aurors in the name of Voldemort’s cause during the first war. After their deaths, you had been sent to live with your godmother in America, never truly understanding how your parents were killed or why.

The whole reason you had met Draco in the first place - an arranged marriage. Something that would have honoured your parents, apparently.

The Malfoys had been looking for a pureblood match around Draco’s age, and they had once known your parents, and thought of you as a good prestigious pureblood girl to marry their son. It didn’t take them long to find you, even though you didn’t mingle in pureblood society like they did. (Something they found to be a big shame and a horror upon your parents’ memory.)

Your godmother sold you out for a ‘dowry’ of two thousand Galleons, and from there, your life became a living hell.

Strangely enough, Draco had been the one anchor keeping you alive in it.

Most would say that it was because he was kind by comparison, but truly - he was easy to fall in love with when he was compassionate, sweet, loving in the smallest ways that made you feel safe during some of the most hectic times of your life.

Draco had never intended to get attached to you.

But like anything in his life - pining for the crumbs of his father’s approval, digging under all the proprietary for a single genuine gesture of affection from his mother - Draco’s heart kept beating as much as he tried to turn it off. He convinced himself that he was solid stone, but apparently, you were the pickaxe that made him crumble to pieces. After meeting him, you burrowed through the layers of snide coldness and dark humour that he used in an effort to put you off and you found that still beating heart. That soft thing that he hated so much about himself.

You dug that heart out of his chest, and - despite his best efforts to fight you off, you nursed that heart back to health. And you gave him the closest thing he had experienced to ‘love’ in years.

On the day the two of you got married, when Dumbledore’s dead body was barely cold, Draco said his vows to you with nothing but honesty in his heart. And that night, he made love to you with intense passion, held you in his arms as though you might slip away if he didn’t grip onto you tight enough. And only after you had fallen asleep in his arms, was when he allowed himself to cry. Because he knew that they now had one more way to make him hurt if they wanted to. They could kill him, they could stop the breath in his lungs, but he would die a million deaths through you being hurt in the smallest of ways before that happened.

And now - with this utterly horrifying revelation, they had new ways to hurt him. He should have died a lone man. He should have let them kill him instead of agreeing to any of this in the first place. He shouldn’t have learned to love - he shouldn’t have grown these new limbs that they could cut off savagely and tear apart in front of him.

“I got another one.” You announced when the room had grown too quiet, silent tears streaming down Draco’s face as he sat in intense contemplation. “Another test potion. An extra. I figured you’d want to see it with your own eyes.”

Even though the two of you had only met two short years ago - you knew him too well. You knew that he would want visual confirmation before his own eyes.

“Get it. Please.” He said, trying his best not to let his throat drown in these tears. He wouldn’t be reduced to sobbing.

You went to your cloak, which was hung on a hook in an opposite corner of the room, and grabbed the potion vial out of your pocket. Your shoes clacking against the floor made a terribly hollow soundtrack to the whole thing as you ripped off the small tag that was tied to the neck of the potion bottle and handed it to Draco. He read the instructions on it while you uncorked the potion.

It was simple: you put some sample of your DNA in the bottle - a hair, a small bit of blood, something like that. And then if the potion changed colours to glow white, it meant that you were pregnant. If it made no change from its original, soupy grey colour - then you weren’t pregnant.

He watched, holding his breath as you plucked a single hair from your head and then dropped it into the now open top of the bottle. When the hair made contact with the liquid, it bubbled slightly as it dissolved. Then - after only a moment, the bottle began to shake roughly in your hand as it changed colour, and surely enough - it glowed brightly white.

You were definitely pregnant.

Draco’s nausea increased. And then - in a moment, he felt a fierce sense of protectiveness wash over him. It was as though he had been slapped sharply across the face, woken up from the blind numbness he had been feeling. He knew at that moment that he needed to take action. He couldn’t simply stand by and let things happen around him anymore. He could simply sit around hoping for safety, hoping for some miracle to save the two of you.

“Happy?” You scoffed.

You took Draco’s lack of words as a negative - a sign that he was certainly unhappy with the news.

Not that you were entirely thrilled under the present circumstances - you were scared, stressed, and hating it because you had always wanted children, but not like this.

You placed the potion down on the nearest table and stormed off to the bathroom attached to Draco’s bedroom. He chased you, catching the door before you could slam it closed and lock it.

You conceded to his movements quickly and simply turned to face the sink, unable to look at him right now. You turned it on, splashing cold water on your face, trying your best not to freak out because clearly he was already playing that role. He walked up behind you, gently pressing his body into yours. Even under these circumstances, you found his presence so comforting. You found his body behind you to be nothing but a wall of safety, and you couldn’t help but to lean back into him, your eyes still tightly closed.

Draco reached around you and gently pressed his hand into your stomach - you held back tears of your own now. Clearly, you were both thinking the same thing. Thinking of the unborn child that you both needed to protect. You placed your hand over his, seeking comfort in his touch as he flattened a palm across your stomach.

It was a world shattering revelation to know that his child was resting under his hand.

“No one can find out about this.” He muttered quietly into your neck.

It was something Draco dreaded - them finding out about your pregnancy.

This is what they had been waiting for. This was the reason for the marriage in the first place. This was the pureblood heir - this was their chess piece.

Draco wouldn’t let his child become another pawn in their games.

“It’s still early.” You choked out quietly. “There are other potions. We could-” You choked on your own words, unable to even speak it aloud.

Draco dug his fingers into the fabric of your shirt protectively, quite insulted at the insinuation.

“No.” He replied, his voice rough with anger. “Unless the idea of being pregnant with my child is so utterly horrible to you-”

“It’s not that!”

You screeched, forcefully turning in his arms, wanting to face him. He kept one hand on your hip, and moved the other up to gently grasp your cheek, thumbing away your tears as they gathered. It was that gentleness that always got you. His natural instinct to comfort you.You leaned into his touches as you continued.

“I want this baby more than anything. I - I’m just terrified they’ll see that as a weakness.”

You knew it was the truth. Especially when Draco’s sullen face confirmed it. In this circle, loving anything or anyone was a weakness that could be exploited.

Draco leaned in and kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting the single, solitary moment of peace wash over you.

“I’ll protect you.” He declared, his voice whisper-quiet, but nearly broken with the intensity of his words. “Both of you.” He added this on as he brushed his palm over your stomach once again.

Again, you laid your hand over his, uttering quiet assurances of love toward your unborn child.

“Draco, how-?”

He didn’t let you finish the question.

“We’ll leave. We’re leaving. Tonight.” He declared firmly.

It was something you had suggested before - to protests from Draco, many scathing comments poking holes in your plans. His parents would be killed if he left. At this point, he had to surrender to the idea that they could take care of themselves - that they had made their bed and they had to lie in it. But now that he had the Dark Mark, they would be able to find him, wherever he went. But he would find some harsh way around that.

Now that he had so much more at stake, he couldn’t care if his parents died because of his actions. He had so much more that he had to protect.

“I’ll cut off my bloody arm if I have to.” Draco mumbled quietly, and then turned sharply from the bathroom, leaving to pack.

…

“Daddy, Mummy’s not being fair! She won’t let me play with the jellyfish!”

“Draco, can you please explain to your daughter that jellyfish are dangerous and she can’t play with them?” You replied, trying your best to haul your toddler away from the rough rocks at the water’s edge where the creature had washed up.

“Love, why don’t you come and play with your toys over here?” Draco posed, trying to draw her attention toward something else. She was much like himself as a child - determined, stubborn, and wouldn’t do anything unless she believed it was her own idea first. “Come and show Daddy how to build a sand castle, hmm?”

She seemed to perk up at this. She was clever, and over-eager to show off her skills. More than eager to show her father how to do something properly if she felt that he wasn’t doing it right. This happened with everything from the way he spread marmalade on his toast to the way he tied his shoes - something she had just learned how to do that she was eager to show off her expertise in.

As she tore out of your arms and trudged across the beach to scoop some sand into her bucket, Draco had to be thankful as he watched you follow slowly behind. Purely thankful of the fact that the biggest danger your daughter had to worry about was something like a stray jellyfish washed up on shore.

Three years after escaping a life of servitude toward the Dark Lord in England, you and Draco enjoyed a quiet life with your daughter Aster in France.

You sat down beside Draco with a huff, picking up the book you had previously been reading. You flashed him a grateful smile as he listened to Aster’s detailed instructions about how they should build their castle. He gave you a wide grin in return, and you felt your insides tingle. His smile used to be something as rare as a Basilisk, but now he wore it proudly and more often - he wore his happiness without restraint.

With the short-sleeved, light linen shirt that he had on for the beach, the scar on his forearm was fully visible. It reminded you of the brave choices he had made on that night three years ago.

You had convinced Draco not to cut off his arm completely, but the two of you knew that the Dark Mark needed to go. Otherwise, the two of you could never run far enough, you would have nowhere to hide. So now he sported a large scar where you had held him down and cut the skin off with a sharp knife. That night, his parents had found his room empty, save for the flap cut-off skin in the middle of his bloody bedroom floor. Luckily, you had a talent for healing spells and Draco had been able to knick a few good potions from his family’s cupboards before the two of you left.

On the outside, it was jagged and ugly. But when he looked at it, it reminded him of nothing but freedom - of the love you had committed to him that day, to your unborn daughter.

With a couple thousand Galleons in gold taken from his parents’ stash, the two of you started a new life. You were untraceable and happy. And though there was intense relief when you read in the papers that Potter had succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord and that meant the war was over - the two of you didn’t have any plans to go back to England anytime soon.

Not when your new life was this good.

“-and see, you need to dig down until you find the sand that’s wet, that makes a good castle-” Aster drawled on, piercing her toy shovel into the ground frantically as she spoke.

Draco nodded, giving her a smile as he followed her instructions. “Yes, yes. I see. Very smart girl.”

He had gotten the two of you away from that life, and not for a moment had your daughter ever known the kind of pain or fear that you had.

“Daddy’s learning a lot today, isn’t he?” You remarked, giving Draco a sly grin.

“Good thing I’ve got this smart girl here to teach me,” He said, leaning over and giving Aster a kiss on the forehead.

That was another thing that made you fall even deeper in love with him - the droves of affection he gave to his daughter. Now that he wasn’t being watched so closely, now that he wasn’t expected to be the picture perfect son, he could love her exactly how he wanted to. He didn’t have to worry about propriety or appearing weak.

Aster giggled at this, and Draco blew raspberries on her cheek before kissing her again. She then rallied Draco up to go to the shoreline for a bucket of water. As you watched them walk hand in hand, you felt your heart ache from how overwhelmingly full of love you were.

Somehow, you found yourself endlessly thankful for the rocky road of fate that had brought you here.

#sundrop speaks #star squared #my lovely moots #fic comments #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter fanfiction

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egenvs3000f23 · 2 years ago

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Unit 9: Interpret (through this blog) the most amazing thing you know about nature – get us excited. This is your blog – you audience isn’t out in the field with you so bring the field to your armchair reader.

Hmmm, there are so many ways a person could run with this prompt. Choosing my direction for this one was hard! In this blog post we are going to take a look at combining scientific views, with those of arts and indigenous ecological knowledge. The most amazing things about nature are clear when we view it from as many perspectives as possible simultaneously.

To illustrate this blog we will consider asters and goldenrod, their beauty and why they grow together. The aster is a deep purpley blue flower, and goldenrod a bright yellow almost gold appearing flower.

I’m going to start off by talking about art. Colour theory explains why certain colours look good together. We also need to remember that colour is just light in its different wavelengths interacting with chemical matter around us. The presentation of colour in nature or at least our and other animals' perceptions of it serves purpose. This purpose is to create a world as diverse as possible. By having different colours grouped and perceived in different patterns the diversity and possible niches for life to exist expands greatly. The way colours present themselves is art, but its also ecological! By the yellow and purple flowers growing together, different pollinators are attracted, different fungi are spread, and different nutrients are absorbed and released into the soil. This gross understatement of reciprocal interactions portrays the spiritual and artful complexity of scientific nature. Music can be found in nature as we discussed in our earlier weeks. Music is mathematical, oscillations and frequencies, music is emotional, music is cultural.

With this all being said, let's further explore the science of this phenomena. The Fibonacci Sequence, is a mathematical sequence where the next number is found by adding the two numbers before it. For example 0+1=1, then 1+1 = 2, then 1+2 +3, then 2+3=5 and so on. When squares are made with these widths, a spiral forms. The Fibonnaci numbers converge to create the golden ratio. These patterns can be found everywhere in nature!! Plants and flowers grow in patterns that fit this spiral as it maximizes space and the ability for plants to absorb light from the sun! It also explains the number of petals. The ratio can be found in the pattern of shells and in animals as well! Artists frequently use this ratio to compose their art in aesthetically appealing ways. By far the most amazing thing about nature is its complexities and connections with everything, even those which seem unrelated. Science can be emotional, and spiritual, something that the western scientific method does not like to traditionally recognize.

Traditional Ecological Knowledge can be defined as a cumulative body of knowledge, practice and belief that evolves by accumulating TEK, firsthand and handed down through generations of traditional songs, stories, beliefs and lessons. Among indigenous communities science is not strictly objective. It is spiritual. We are a part of the natural world, and are subject to natural law. Humans are not above nature but are a part of it. Time is cyclical rather than linear and our actions are a part of reciprocal relationships. Science lets us zoom into what we cannot observe and Traditional ecological knowledge can connect it to a human's place in the natural world. We are not removed from science, we are not removed from nature, we are not removed from art, we are simultaneously all these things.

If people can view nature and life in this simply complex place of interconnection, everything becomes limitlessly beautiful. If we are effected into affecting the world around us, well then our actions and thoughts come back around to ourselves and the larger system. We should all take care of ourselves and everything around us. Especially one another and the natural world.

This is to me the most amazing thing about nature it's all a system. It is everything. Learning to see it in as many ways as possible simultaneously puts me at a loss for words.

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meltedmercury · 3 years ago

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My nickname in the UC discord was ‘aster but diagnosed’ and now that Amelia has acknowledged it I want to talk about why.

Minor spoilers for Unprepared Casters Arc 4.

Aster (no last name) has ADHD, and it is a major part of why he ended up leaving home.

Adhd is often seen as “haha this person talks too much and can’t sit still in class”, both in society in general and fandom spaces. People don’t talk about executive dysfunction- being unable to start or complete a task, even if it’s not a difficult one- or emotional dysregulation (compounded by frequent negative feedback from adults and peers) or pretty much anything other than impulse control issues.

Aster does lack impulse control, but he also has other signs and symptoms of ADHD that I won’t get into because I haven’t relistened to the arc yet.

These struggles are a prime excuse for the way Aster and Quinn’s parents treat them. I believe it’s called the golden child / scapegoat dynamic. Aster’s mistakes, mess-ups, and symptoms are treated as irredeemable character flaws. He is constantly unfavorably compared to his twin sister Quinn, who herself is harmed by 1) witnessing her brother, who she loves, being mistreated and 2) knowing (consciously or subconsciously) that her parents’ love is conditional upon her being well-behaved and accomplished. In other circumstances, Quinn and Aster could have ended up resenting each other for the family dynamic. The fault lies with their parents, who have failed to recognize and support their children as individuals with unique needs.

Aster is traumatized from being emotionally neglected in this way, but he is also traumatized by the experience of having an unnamed, invisible disability. He, too, has internalized the idea that he is the problem, that he will always be judged as a failure and deserves said judgement for not functioning as well as people like Quinn. His anger issues are an obvious result of this. Aster has ‘leaned in’ to his reputation as a troublemaker as an attempt to take control of the narrative, an overcorrection for likely years of trying and failing to live up to his parents standards. Feeling hopeless to improve, he gives in to his impulsivity, feeling like he has little to lose now. Is this healthy or productive? No. But he lacks literally any support system other than Quinn and some of their friends. They’re all just teens. No adults seem to care about Aster’s well-being, only about his rule breaking.

Even in a world where ADHD was a known thing and Aster had been diagnosed, it’s a lifelong disability. You don’t grow out of it and there is no cure. Aster’s parents would likely still treat him unsympathetically. “We pay for your medication, we got you a special education plan, we’re doing everything we can to help you.” “We just need you to put in the effort that everyone else is putting in.” It’s pretty much impossible to get non-disabled people to understand what it’s like having a disability. Shitty parents are going to be shitty parents, no matter the reason or pattern.

I don’t really have a conclusion to this, other than Haley did a fantastic job with this character and I wish I was a blue tiefling who could throw knives.

#aster unprepared casters #unprepared casters arc 4 #arc 4 spoilers #adhd #actually adhd #emotional abuse #unprepared casters

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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Chosen (Park Seonghwa) Rated

Pairing: Creature! Park Seonghwa × Human! Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Sci-Fi/Fantasy AU.

Summary: Symbolizing purity, innocence, and daintiness, the Daughters of Aster had been hand-picked since a young age to be brought up and raised for a very special task: to carry the offspring of the nobility in the kingdom, which just so happens to consist of cold-blooded humanoid creatures. And now that she's become of age, it's Y/N's turn to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: Tentai content including tentacle bondage, tentacle sucking, breast play, suction play, breeding kink, penetration with tentacles, multiple orgasms, semi voyeurism, reader is a virgin and Seonghwa is whipped for her, mentions of eggs, and stomach bulges. (It's my first time writing actual tentacle smut so I apologize if it sucks.)

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Gulping harshly as she pressed a hand to open the large, metal gate that guarded the huge mansion, the young woman hesitantly stepped inside the spacious and grim-looking garden. Underestimating the weight of the gate, she softly jolted back when it suddenly slipped out of her grasp and clashed back into place. She winced momentarily when the loud noise seemed to resonate, spooking several of the small critters and ravens that roamed around the small terrain. Glancing back, she half expected an old groundskeeper to swoop out of one of the trees and chastise her reckless behavior. But nothing surrounded the area except the foliage, trees, and rose bushes that added to the beauty of the grand estate.

Gathering back her courage, the quaint young woman took slow and careful steps across the small dirt path that led straight to the front stairs of the mansion. It was a somewhat terrifying architectural design, reminiscent of the old gothic-styled cathedrals from ancient times, not at all fashioned after the pompous and outlandish French designs most of the other members of the aristocracy preferred. The gray stone walls made the place seem cold and distant, the hardly lit windows signaled that it was probably rarely inhabited, and the black ravens perched on the top of the sculpted angel monuments lined up through the staircase only made the sensation feel more haunting and chilly.

Finally, in front of the main entrance, she hesitated as her fingers brushed along the round metal door handle. She felt frozen with fear as she realized there was no returning after all. This was the moment she had been prepared for her entire life. In a few moments, she was about to meet.....

Her master.

Just that thought sent shivers down her spine. She did not wish to ponder too much on the various horror stories she often heard back in the institute, nor imagine what kind of life she would live now as a surrogate to one of...their kind.

In the very moment she lifted her hand once again, she took a jerked back when the door seemingly opened by itself, a young maid looking surprised to see her standing there. Upon inspecting her attire and recognizing the crest that held her dark blue cloak in place, the maid's expression beamed with joy.

"Oh! You must be Miss Y/N correct?"

Nodding her head and affirming it was indeed she, Y/N felt puzzled when the tiny maid practically yanked her inside, albeit not intended to harm her, she simply seemed excited about her presence, which frankly made no sense to her. It was not as if surrogates were treated with kindness let alone respect. When her hands reached up towards her neck, the young woman was quick to stop her.

"Oh please! Let me do that for you."

Although she was not particularly fond of people coming up so close in her personal space, she maintained a calm demeanor whilst the maid removed the long cloak off her frame, delicate hands folding it perfectly and tucking it under her arm.

"I'll have this cleaned and ironed out for you Miss before taking it back to your room. You must be famished after coming here after such a long journey." She paused briefly and examined Y/N's complexion, which seemed rather pale and depleted, making her pout rather sadly at the state their new guest was in.

"If you would like, I can ask the cook to prepare a meal for you. Do tell, what is your favorite dish?"

Y/N waved a dismissive hand at the kind lady's offer.

"Please, do not trouble yourself. I am not the least bit hungry." Indeed, it was not a lie. She was overly anxious and uneasy that she did not believe it to be possible to even fathom stomaching any sort of sustenance at that moment.

"If you do not mind and if it is allowed... I would much prefer to retire for the evening." Y/N humbly requested.

Nodding with the understanding that the new company was weary, the young maid took hold of a golden bell tied around her waist and proceeded to ring it moderately. In mere seconds, a tall sharply dressed gentleman came up and bowed towards her.

"Cedric would you please escort Miss Y/N to her room?"

Gesturing for her to follow, the butler guided her up the flight of stairs into the second story of the house. Passing through a long corridor, Y/N glanced now and then at the outside patio through the windows that overlooked the gardens. They were much larger than what she initially thought, and the longer she looked, the denser the trees seemed to appear. She was so distracted by the scenery that she nearly collided face-first into the poor butler's back had he not spoken up first and made her steps come into a screeching halt.

"This will be your room from now on miss." Producing a string of keys out of his pocket, Cedric unlocked the door and gently pushed it open, stepping inside to make room for Y/N to pass.

Her breath was nearly taken away by the sheer size of the room. It was double the size of the old living space she used to share with 6 other girls back in the institute and was furnished with more than what she'd ever need. The decor too seemed like something more befitting for someone of the family than for someone of her station.

"If there is anything the matter with the decor or should you prefer a different pattern, you may simply speak the word and the Master shall arrange for the room to be modified as you like."

At the mention of the Master, Y/N felt that nerve-racking tingle travels down her body once again.

"Shall you need any assistance, please feel free to ring the bell attached by your bed and one of us will be more than happy to aid you?" Reaching for the door handle, Cedric bid her good night before closing the door to leave her to her thoughts.

Still feeling cold from the long walk, Y/N stepped closer to the fireplace, outstretching her hands in hopes of warming them up. She was grateful that although not expecting her early, they had prepared a nice fire to warm up her room. After getting filled with the heat, Y/N went over to one of the dressers so that she could change into her night attire. Upon opening the many drawers, she was shocked at not finding any of her old clothes, instead, there was an abundance of luxurious clothing which she did not recognize. Storming over to the large wardrobe, she too found that none of her personal belongings had been delivered, they seemed to have all been replaced with new apparel. Knowing that she had no choice, she went back to the first dresser that she had looked in before and rummaged through to find the plainest and simple nightgown she could find. Reaching for the row of buttons training down the middle of her blouse, she undid them one by one with utter care before slipping it off her body, letting the garment fall on the floor. Running the zipper down, her long and flowing skirt joined her blouse, one foot delicately kicking them away for the time being. Standing there in nothing but her undergarments made Y/N suddenly feel apprehensive. She carefully looked around the room again, feeling the strange sensation that someone was watching her. Shaking that thought out of her head, she quickly threw the nightgown over her head and finished dressing. The fabric was soft to the touch and it didn't scratch against her delicate skin, but the most surprising factor was that it fit like a glove on her body. It made her wonder if perhaps they had prepared it in advance or it was merely a coincidence.

Picking up her discarded clothes, she neatly placed them on the table near her, slightly folding them and smoothing them over. Going over to the bed, she pulled back the covers before sliding her body onto the mattress and covering herself. She couldn't help the small blissful sigh coming out of her mouth as her sore limbs welcomed the soft and comfortable bed, the pillow feeling like a fluffy cloud. As she laid there, she began to reminisce about all the events that led up to that very moment, or more specifically, that very morning during the Auctioning.

Hearing the loud applause coming from the other end of the room, Y/N tried to calm her nerves, knowing she was the next one in line to face the crowd. As soon as she took one step forward, she was stopped by none other than the Head of the Institute, who took hold of her wrist and looked at the girl behind her.

"Abigail, you go next. Y/N, you're coming with me."

Without so much as a further explanation, Y/N found herself dragged away from the waiting room where her fellow inmates also looked at each other in confusion at the sudden interruption. Y/N wanted to speak up and ask what was happening, was she not to be auctioned off to one of the many noble families? The old woman of course knew all the questions Y/N had, but she didn't say a word until they were outside in the front of the building, where there was a carriage awaiting her.

"Your personal belongings have already been sent out to your new home. We've received word to have you delivered as soon as possible." Even with that brief explanation, Y/N still didn't understand anything. Noticing her distressed state, the Headmistress sighed softly.

"Y/N, you are not to be auctioned off like the rest of the girls. Someone has already purchased you many months back, but it seems they accidentally forgot it and thus added you to the lineup. Luckily, I managed to find you before you stood up on that platform. Certainly avoided a disaster." The old woman chuckled, yet that did not relieve Y/N's worries.

What did she mean someone had already bought her? Who were they? Where was she sold off to?

Unfortunately, none of those questions were answered, instead, she found herself being pushed inside the carriage and speedily taken away to an unfamiliar side of the country that she had never seen before, away to who knew where until she ended up right in the place she was currently in.

Drowsy and tear-filled eyes eventually closed even whilst remembering the events of the day. Y/N knew she was more than likely lucid dreaming as she slowly drifted off to sleep. She didn't feel fully unaware of her surroundings though, and perhaps it was that skeptical feeling that kept her on edge and guarded against anything around her. It especially came into help when she seemingly felt something stroke her cheek, gliding down to caress the outline of her jaw. At first, she believed it was nothing more than her imagination, but when she felt a thumb running across her bottom lip, she opened her eyes, screaming and sitting up when she saw a dark figure standing right in front of her. He was started himself by her outburst, immediately retracting his hand when he witnessed how agitated his innocent act had made her.

"I'm sorry..... I didn't mean to frighten you." His voice was soothing and low, clearly intended so that she'd calm down.

"Would you mind if I..." His gesture indicated that he wanted permission to come near her again, which she felt like she had no choice but to give.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, the handsome stranger reached out and cupped the sides of her face, moving it slowly to the left and then towards the right, eyes drinking up every detail of her countenance.

"My God, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you tending to the gardens in that place."

Hearing those words made Y/N widen her eyes. How did he know about that? Unless...

"Are... Are you my new master?" She couldn't even believe it.

The young man giggled softly.

"If you don't mind, I would much rather prefer if you called me by my name, Seonghwa." He introduced himself. Y/N briefly nodded, but obviously, it wasn't enough for him as he leaned in close, nose nearly bumping into her own.

"Please say it." He urged her to.

"Seonghwa." She breathed out his name, to which he let out a gentle smile as one of his hands moved to tuck some of her hair behind her ear.

"Once again, I apologize for startling you, my dear. I just got impatient and couldn't resist myself. I just had to see you." He confessed before getting up out of her space.

"You must be tired so I'll leave you be now. Get some rest love and I'll see you in the morning."

Y/N expected him to walk towards the same door she had come inside from, but she looked with astonishment as Seonghwa went over towards another door which she had mistakenly assumed to be her bathroom, and opened it up.

"My room adjoins to yours, so if you ever want to come and see me, I'm just a knock away." He fought hard to not laugh at her flustered expression, whispering out another good night before retreating into his chambers.

Y/N released a breath she didn't know she was holding. So far her new master looked...normal? Nothing at all like what she expected from the many tales that roamed back at the institute. Seonghwa was nothing that she expected, exceptionally beautiful, poised, kind, and gallant. But she knew she could not be fooled by his charming manners, after all, none of the members of the aristocracy were actual humans...

And it was only a matter of time before she figured out what sort of monster Seonghwa was.

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Y/N tried to steady her heartbeat as Seonghwa drew closer to her, lips brushing against her own. Although this was the exact moment she had been prepared all her life for, she still felt a tinge of nervousness as she felt Seonghwa's hands clasp around her waist, his body, which was all bare save for the briefs between his thighs, pressing against her own.

"Tell me, my dear has anyone ever kissed you before?" He smiled when she shook her head.

"May I kiss you?" His inquiry sounded so sweet and pure that Y/N didn't think twice about lifting her face and closing her eyes.

Seonghwa's lips were soft, reminding her of the soft petals belonging to the different roses in the gardens outside, precious little buds that she had been granted permission to take care of in the month she had been living with him. He had never once denied her anything and had been very attentive to her every need. And now as he tenderly kissed her, pouring his heart into the loving kiss, Y/N wondered if this is what love felt like, that foreign emotion that she'd often hear spoken about yet always been told it would never be something she or any of the other girls at the Institute would ever experience. She didn't know, but she knew that she enjoyed whatever this was, this feeling of Seonghwa's lips closing over hers, only to pull away and then dive back in, each minute that passed enabling his kissing to become more ardent and passionate. It was truly breathtaking for her, as she'd often find herself gasping for air each time his lips would pull apart from her mouth.

Starting at the corners of her lips, Seonghwa began pressing butterfly kisses down towards her jaw. Y/N's breath hitched, neck tilting back when she felt him nibbling against her skin. It seemed as if he knew exactly where to direct his attention towards, her sharp breaths an indication that she was warming up to his touches. Releasing one hand off her face, he moved it down until his fingers brushed against her collarbone, treading dangerously close to her covered bosoms.

"Now tell me, love has anyone ever touched you here?"

As if on instinct, Y/N arched her back towards his palms when they lightly squeezed at her pillowy mounds, a light, and embarrassed moan being uttered by her for the first time in her life.

"N-no, no one's ever touched me there." Her shy confession made him smirk as he then dropped his hand down to lift her flimsy nightgown.

"What about here? Has anyone touched here?"

Cupping her sex, he found it warm and inviting, his body aching to be inside of her, to fill her up and breed her as he wanted to. He didn't need her to answer, just her mouth going agape and emitting the cutest whimpers he had ever heard was enough of an answer.

"No of course not. You're pure and completely untouched by anyone else....." When she felt his fingers slide across her wettened folds, her hands reached out and gripped against his biceps, using them to keep herself steady as they continued exploring her deepest places. It felt so unusual yet wonderful to have Seonghwa pry open her lips, fingers ever so gradually slipping past her tightness to lodge inside her warm cavern. Once settled, they began moving, pulling themselves out before coming back in. To distract her, Seonghwa stooped down to kiss her once more, it felt more rushed than before, tongue occasionally poking outwards to scrape against the roof of her mouth. As his fingers worked hard to stretch her open and mouth busied in devouring her adorable whines, it was all to prepare her and get her to ease up before he continued with anything. Pulling away with a deep inhale, Seonghwa used his free thumb to wipe away the excess saliva on her bottom lip, breath ghosting over her own.

"Y/N... I'm going to need you to stay calm and not freak out. All right?"

By his tone, Y/N deduced that she was about to figure out just what exactly it was that made him different from her. She could feel him hesitate, looking just as scared as she did the first time she arrived at the estate. Just as she was about to assure him that she was not afraid, she felt something crawl up her legs, it was somewhat slimy and had a couple of ridges along the underside of it. Glancing down, she nearly fell back onto the bed when she witnessed two long tentacles wrapping themselves around her thighs, tearing up part of the silk fabric of her nightgown. Before she could stumble back, another tentacle launched out to wrap around her waist, pulling her forward to help her regain her balance. She breathed heavily, looking visibly shocked as she realized they were coming out of none other than Seonghwa himself. He scanned her face, trying to read her reactions. Scared? Disgusted? Apprehensive? It was rather difficult to make out exactly what she thought about his tendrils holding her steady and tightening around her body. Wanting to test something, he produced two more tentacles, these slightly thinner than the previous ones. They moved closer towards Y/N, who of course, instinctively recoiled from the unusual limbs.

"Don't worry. If I were in your position, I'd be utterly revolted as well." Although he spoke out those words with a dry smile, they held a lot of pain within them and it made Y/N saddened to hear him. Wanting to make up for it, she outstretched her hand towards the nearest tendril, the very limb slightly pulling away when it felt her come near. No doubt Seonghwa was hesitant about having her touch him. Undeterred, Y/N reached out once more, this time the tentacle didn't recoil but subtly leaned into her touch. Ever so slowly, it began to wrap around her arm, looping itself around her wrist, and settling itself on top of her palm. Y/N couldn't resist herself as she softly squeezed at the tender limb, thumb curiously playing around with the tiny suction cups along the underside of it. She couldn't help but giggle when it slightly slithered itself to attach some of the cups onto her palm, applying light pressure that had a rather pleasant feeling. So amused by the bizarre member, she didn't realize that the other thin tentacle had moved until she felt it loop itself on her other arm, the same as the one on her right side. Seonghwa felt relieved when she didn't seem afraid anymore, instead, she now smiled up towards him, fingers gently caressing the smooth surface of his tentacles. Unbeknownst to her, he could feel every touch ministered on them, the tentacles being a part of him, an extension of him. And they were highly sensitive to any sort of contact made with them.

"Can we...can we continue?" There was a slight quiver in his voice that did not go unnoticed by the woman held hostage by his slimy tendrils. Understanding exactly what he was referring to, Y/N nodded, eagerly awaiting to see just how Seonghwa would impregnate her.

Feeling herself lifted off the floor, the tentacles gently laid her down on the bed, detaching themselves momentarily off her body as they began poking around at the semi-ruined fabric of her attire. Grasping at several ends, Y/N gasped astonishingly when they tore off the rest of her dress, discarding the remaining pieces on the floor. Laying there completely naked in front of Seonghwa, who did not hide anything in his stare as they raked her entire body. Feeling self-conscious, Y/N moved to cover herself but the tentacles were faster as they wrapped around her wrists and ankles, holding the first ones above her face while the other ones kept her legs apart, allowing Seonghwa to fully gawk at her wetness. The thought of burying himself deep in her and breeding her made him uncontrollably hard.

Y/N squirmed as several more tentacles sprouted out of Seonghwa's body, making her question just how many he could produce. Two medium-sized ones traveled up her sternum, oozing out some sort of secretion that trickled onto her breasts. The tentacles then latched themselves onto her perky mounds, twisting and pulling at her nipples until they hardened and poked out. They continued to toy around with her boobs, flicking against her sensitive nubs now and then before going back to clamp down and attach their suction cups to her tender skin. Y/N shuddered as she felt them slightly vibrate, adding to the daze-inducing state she was drifting off to.

Just as she was distracted in enjoying the pleasure the two tentacles were giving her, she let out a shriek when she felt another slimy organ come up and flit at her clit. The tentacles around her ankles kept her from closing her thighs, leaving her with no choice but to succumb to the movements made in her delicate button. It felt so surreal, so extraordinary, and she writhed around on the bed as much as she was able to when the tiny end of the tentacle sped up and rubbed faster against her swelling clit, the delicious friction making her mouth water. She wondered if this was the bliss some of the girls back home talked about, the ones who had gone out of their way to break the solemn vow they swore about remaining intact and pure, forcing them out of the Institute as they were no longer considered valuable vessels for future buyers.

"If this is what they enjoyed then, I would have gladly broken my vow too." Y/N mused to herself. But then she remembered had she broken her vow she would have never been able to meet Seonghwa, and she'd grown attached to him in that short period of meeting him.

"No... It's better this way. Having saved my body just for him so he can use it as he pleases. Have me carry his children. Oh, God." She felt herself clench around nothing as she thought about being stuffed by him, carrying his babies. Months before, the idea of carrying the offspring of some humanoid stranger horrified her. Now, it thrilled her and she looked forward to it.

"I'm going to slide a few more inside of you now, ok? It might feel uncomfortable, but I promise I'll make sure you don't feel any pain." Y/N vigorously nodded, the tentacles around her ankles spreading her legs further and bringing them up so her knees were bent.

Two thinner tentacles, even thinner than the ones around her wrists came out and began probing around her hole, stretching it ever so slightly before sliding inside her. Y/N felt them scraping against her tender walls, leaving her flabbergasted at feeling them creep deeper and deeper against her right muscles, stopping once they reached her cervix. Ever so carefully, they position themselves at her opening, prying her cervix open. A dull sting shot up her body, not exactly painful, but it wasn't exactly pleasant to feel. Noticing this, Seonghwa made the tentacles release their hold on her tight rim.

"Perhaps I might need to make use of this after all."

Y/N didn't know exactly what 'this' was, all she felt was the two tentacles lightly thrust inside of her, tips flicking up to tease at her sweet spot. And then she felt it, the tentacles oozed some sort of secretion to coat her inner walls, even moving to spread some of the liquid against the entrance of her womb. The tentacle working on her clit had to momentarily stop when Y/N began spasming, small gasps and moans spilling out her lips, not realizing that she had just had a subtle orgasm, but Seonghwa knew. He felt when her juices covered her walls, causing them to become more slick and wet, an effect produced by the natural pheromones his tentacles had just sprayed inside her, helping her to relax and not feel any more discomfort. Although it would also make her highly sensitive, meaning she would become a sticky and panting mess by the end of it, every stroke or brush inside her body would be heightened considerably. And Seonghwa was rather curious to see how that would play out.

Finally, a rather large and thick tentacle sprung out, heading directly towards her opening. It contracted itself as it skimmed past her entrance, flowing smoothly thanks to the previous tentacles that had worked Y/N's core open and the pheromones he had induced into her. At first, nothing seemed to happen, then Y/N's mouth flew open as she felt the tentacle start expanding, bottoming out inside of her, forcing her stretched-out muscles to widen even more. Unable to resist the urge, she looked down, nearly wheezing as she looked at the tightly nestled tentacle inside of her, pulsing inside her slick covered borders. Just those small pulsing vibrations had her throwing her head back as more liquids seeped out of her. Feeling her arousal coating its skin, it seemed to rile up the large tentacle as it began pushing itself further until it reached the entrance of her cervix.

"Usually humanoids of my kind would place as many eggs can fit inside their surrogate's womb... But I don't wish to overwhelm you with that, especially since it's your first time." With a smug grin, Seonghwa stooped forward and placed a hand on top of her abdomen.

"So let's just try it with two."

The large tentacle began contracting once more, wriggling around as if trying to get something out. Y/N soon felt what it was as a smooth, round, and semi-hard object began pushing itself inside of her. The two smaller tentacles, which were still lodged on the sides of her walls, went back to pry her cervix open, allowing the egg easier access as it traveled through her tunnel and nestling itself inside her womb. Seonghwa watched proudly as her belly swelled up as soon as the egg lodged itself in her, fingers brushing against the oval outline bulging out of her skin.

"So pretty, so beautiful." He praised her, teeth tugging down at his bottom lip as a hidden tentacle had come out to rid him of his last article of clothing, stroking his hardened cock generously, the suction cups paying close attention to his leaking head.

"How are you feeling so far love?" Seonghwa wanted to make sure she was fine before proceeding.

Y/N fluttered her eyes open, soft pants spewing out her mouth.

"Please...more." That was all she could manage to mumble out.

Satisfied by her answer, the massive limb started wriggling once more, popping out another egg that scraped deliciously against the roof of her cave, journeying past her barriers and plopping next to the previous egg, joining it inside her womb. With slight embarrassment, Y/N cried out as another wave of pleasure poured out of her, hands wanting to cover her reddened face at the thought of so easily cumming by the mere thought of Seonghwa's eggs inside her while his tentacle continued throbbing inside her.

"Don't feel ashamed my love. I just so happen to enjoy watching your face contort with pleasure." His admittance only made her more sheepish and flustered.

"We're almost done, love. I just need to fertilize my eggs."

Y/N groaned loudly when the tentacle began moving, thrusting itself in and out, her previous juices seeping out every time it pulled out her body, creating a wet stain on the sheets underneath. Maybe it was her imagination, but Y/N swore she could feel the eggs move inside her, bouncing each time the tentacle pushed back inside her. The tendrils around her ankles and wrists tightened themselves, holding her steady as the tentacle started to plunge itself faster and deeper into her, twitching every so often, a sign it was getting ready to squirt into her womb.

Seonghwa was also enjoying the spectacle, watching closely as he was about to impregnate his darling surrogate, the tentacle wrapped around the shaft matching the movement the larger one was doing. He felt blessed to be able to feel both sensations at once, one being his cock stimulated while his tentacle had to endure Y/N's tightness clench unbearably around his slimy member. It was ecstasy for both of them, their grunts and moans echoing inside Seonghwa's room. Wanting her to experience the maximum pleasure he could offer, the tentacles laid out across her chest went back to their previous task of playing with her nipples, suckling on her tender flesh whilst the one between her legs toyed with her swollen clit. It was all so much for her that Y/N couldn't help it as her third orgasm of the night overtook her, this one more intense and prolonged by the endless amount of attention her body was receiving.

"Seonghwa!" She cried out, tears of over-stimulation brimming at the corners of her eyes.

Hearing her call out to him, Seonghwa himself hissed as the tentacle worked him over the edge, spurts of cum trickling down onto it as well as splattering onto the floor. The tentacle that was now coated with his cum moved towards Y/N's face, lightly tapping on her cheek. Turning to face it, she inhaled sharply and didn't hesitate to allow it to slide past her lips and wiggle inside her mouth. She moaned around the appendage, sucking on it, the sensations flowing back to Seonghwa's cock.

"Oh fuck." He exclaimed, the tentacle pushing itself on the back of her throat while the one between her legs rapidly moved to finish its final task.

Y/N's wailing was partially muffled by the tentacle stuffing her mouth, her body and mind spiraling out of control as she felt thick ropes of warm cum being gushed out of the tentacle and shooting straight into her womb. She could even feel her stomach swelling up even more by just the liquids being poured into her. It was enough to have her crying out once more, a state of euphoria clouding her mind as her 4th high shocked her senses, numbing everything except the feeling of the tentacles around and in her. Seonghwa himself didn't need further stimulation, cumming untouched for the second time when he finally finished breeding her, mouth drawing out long and labored breaths as he started to come down from his high.

Slowly, one by one the tentacles started pulling away from Y/N's body, disappearing back into Seonghwa's body. Both of them groaned deeply when the last tentacle pulled out of her agape hole, some of the leftover cum dribbling out onto the bed. Y/N felt so sore and so full, her hands reaching down to caress her now swollen stomach, surprised at how big it looked. She felt ready to pop at any moment. With utmost care, Seonghwa moved her further into the bed, helping her rest her head against one of the pillows and covering her up with the warm blanket. It wasn't long until she felt his body press up against hers, pulling her as close as was possible as one hand protectively wrapped around her belly.

"Thank you..."

She was so weary after that intense session that she could only mumble a barely audible 'huh?' at his words. Chuckling, Seonghwa pressed a kiss against her cheek.

"Thank you for carrying my babies. You have no idea how happy I am at this moment."

She could only manage to give out a faint smile at his words, fastly falling asleep when she felt him hum a soft tune against her ear.

"I'm so glad I chose you."

༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @yunhofingers @deja-vux @brie02 @daniblogs164 @couchpotatoaniki @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie @mingismoon @ateezbabysitters @rainteez02 @harry-the-pottypus

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oswednesday · 4 years ago

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this thought isn’t very clear yet like how to connect these parts, but kris is a light blue vessel in the dark world and in photoshop floweys battle the toy knife is the light blue souls attack, berdlys attack patterns when doing the graded sheets feels very similar to the attack patterns of a soul attack and his and the queens attacks in that battle all together are very similar to the purple soul’s attacks, noelle recognizes the pink ribbon and says it in such a this feels familiar,,,? sort of way the pink ribbon being a human item dropped that makes monsters hit you less hard, the queen says that lighteners all have determination but determination makes monsters dissolve and to have that you need a strong human soul, so like back to berdly feeling similar to the purple attack, gaster is associated with purple attack in a lot of theories because his secret song the stuff that plays during darker and darker yet is very similar to the music that plays during that attack and asters are like purple the way people jump to a rose being red and how it’s a theory that * represents gaster listening and like crumbs of him, the item is also torn paper-like it might be a fake out death in the overworld but that he does appear to be dead the way gaster appears to be dead for the linear scripted story, something something

#deltarune spoilers #and then we get that scripted interaction at the vined up red door #and the tv with a grin after a run off into the void #it’s def suppose to Feel these connections

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mail-me-a-snail · 5 years ago

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A Heavy Burden (of Fangs)

Chapter 1: The Burden Tag list: @starl1ght-child tw for: eye horror, mild blood, swearing

Another blot of ink splatters the rim of the bathroom sink. Drip, drip, drip. A drop falls onto his lips; it’s a sickly sweetness, like rotting fruit. That is what has become of Rezyl Azzir, hero of Six Fronts, Twilight Gap, and of the people: he is rotting inside out. His eyes hurt. He’s slept, at most, four hours in the last two days. The breath in his lungs rattles like a ping-pong ball in a tin can. His hands are now unsteady, unable to grip the edges of the sink because of the slick black sludge that coats his fingers.

When he had thrashed his way through his latest nightmare to consciousness, the front of his shirt had already been stained black and the world had tasted just a bit more like rotting pumpkin--that poisonous sweet--than it had usually been when one of these...attacks happened.

He doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror. His eyes, once a hopeful green, have lost their vibrancy. They’re just as grey as the circles under his eyes. Rezyl wipes off as much as the black sludge he can with his calloused knuckles, but it doesn’t go away. It never goes away. It smears and stains--it boasts its permanency. In the first month post Luna, it had never been this bad. His eyes had ached like hell but it had been nothing compared to now.

Now, he couldn’t control it. He couldn’t go outside, not like this. It screamed corruption, just as the tattoo sleeves on his arms do. Once, they had been empty outlines. It being comprised of long, flowing shapes and roses, Rezyl had always thought of it as a river, with roses floating down it.

He’s not sure what to think of it now, when it’s all been filled with a pure black, as if every time these nightmares happen the tears only come so that they fall from to fill them. The roses are gone, choked by the muteness of the color. They’re nothing but blobs of ink now. He had only realized his tattoos were filling when his Ghost had pointed it out. Rezyl had tried to explain it away by saying he spent a bit of glimmer to fill them in--being all too aware of their emptiness and wanting something solid--but that explanation had fallen through when the Ghost had questioned why a half the shapes had been only half filled in.

Rezyl had learned then that his tattoos had become measurements--how much of him was now Theirs? He knows the answer, and has known it every time he takes his shirt off and sees the patterns on his back and arms completely filled in.

He returns to the mirror with reluctance. He glowers at his reflection. His hair is a ghostly white, with the last strands of black standing their ground at the roots like Rezyl had had at Six Fronts. He brushes it out of his face. Every day, the black blot around his eyes and nose spreads bigger and bigger like a Rorschach. The one tonight looks like a rotting tree trunk.

Underneath the grime are the features of Rezyl Azzir: the long nose, the three scars--two arched across his nose, and a smaller one on his temple--the scruffy beard that still retains some of its original darkness, but is slowly fading too. Underneath this smothering burden is the same hero everyone knows and loves.

So, why isn’t it him staring back from the mirror?

You are who we made you to be. Who you wanted to become. Let go, Rezyl Azzir. Let go of this city, of this name--there will be nothing for you here.

“No, no--” He shakes his head, flinging tears this way and that--”I can’t...I won’t.” From an outsider’s perspective, it would seem to them that Rezyl has finally lost it, after two City-wide battles and countless years under the Traveler, to Luna. He speaks to no one in particular, no one that anyone else can see. They speak back.

And he listens and hears:

We are the only ghosts you will ever need.

Someone--something--knocks on the door. He jerks around, the Rose already in his grip, though can he really call it the Rose anymore? What was once silver and grand is now a charred husk, slowly growing to look like it was carved out of sea-weathered stone. Bones adorn its chamber. “Who’s there?” He hisses, leveling his trophy. The pain in his eyes is unbearable--as if he’d go blind at any second.

We are the only eyes you will ever need.

He dares to closes his eyes, just for a moment of respite. “Hold it together, hold it together...” He mutters this mantra under his breath, a prayer he has worn out every night he doesn’t sleep. His prayers often reach the wrong sort of deities.

“Reyl,” the softest mechanical voice says, and yet Rezyl doesn’t falter. He keeps his aim true. “It’s Aster. When I woke up, you were gone. I was worried. Are you alright?”

He lowers the gun. It’s just his Ghost. Of course. He wants to laugh at himself, but it just doesn’t come because of that eternal what if? Logically, there would be no one else in the apartment. It really is just him and Aster most days. What little flings he’s had with Guardians here and there had never truly stuck. It’s more him than them, but that’s neither here nor there.

Of course it’s his Ghost. Is it? It is. It is. It couldn’t be anyone else. No other speaks to him with such bare worry. But this isn’t the first time the Ghost has spoken to him with that kind of tone. The other week, the Ghost had confessed his doubts--how what he has become is not what the Traveler wanted. He had continued confessing, but it had been a little harder to understand him when he had begun talking softer and softer.

When he had asked Aster about his confession the following day, the Ghost hadn’t known what he had been talking about. That was realization number two, and the underlying cause of his paranoia. The conversation had been a hallucination. A nightmare. The point being: it had never happened.

“Are you truly Aster,” he demands, “or is another...another sick manifestation?”

“I--of course I’m Aster,” the Ghost scoffs, but his chirps are concerned. “Rezyl, I’m as real as you are. As that gun is. The Darkness coming off of it--I can’t tell if it’s the gun’s or yours. You have to open the door. Please, let me in. Let me help you with this...this thing you’re fighting. A Guardian can’t fight without his Ghost.”

Rezyl falls silent. His heart beats in his nape and he coughs; it come’s out wet. An ugly, putrid mix of bright red and ink. He kneels and the Rose clatters to the tiles. He is sick and tired and strained and he knows as much, if the blood is anything to go off of. He has to keep it together. He cannot falter so soon, to a sickness of all things.

“Rezyl?” Aster continues, “I’m worried about you. You haven’t been yourself lately; you’ve rarely slept or eaten; you take patrols hours at a time without telling me; you don’t talk to me or the Vanguard anymore, let alone other Guardians; you’re obsessed with the Hive. Ever since you adorned their fangs like trophies, you’ve become someone else entirely--”

He coughs again. Each little puff that racks his body makes his head pulse and throb. The fluorescent lights in the bathroom are much too bright. He can’t believe he hasn’t replaced them yet, despite living in this apartment for years. The blood, though it seems too sweet to be called blood, drips down his chin and neck and stains his shirt.

He is dizzy; the room doesn’t stop spinning, no matter how much he begs it to in his head. His heartbeat is erratic, but distant, as if it’s not the heartbeat of the great Rezyl Azzir, who kneels on the bathroom floor, lips and teeth black and tasting, unfortunately, of licorice, a result of the sickness festering in him. It had entered his veins; eventually it would reach his heart...

...and it would beat no more.

“--Rezyl? Are you there?”

The Guardian huffs, shakes his head, then wobbles to his feet. He wipes his mouth. He spits into the sink and turns on the faucet, watching it all go down the drain. He gargles. The tears have stopped. They left behind black lines on his cheeks. He rinses it off, but he knows it’s futile in the long run. They will come back.

But now it is quiet, and Rezyl savours the blessed silence, even if his heart is in his throat. He composes himself. He might be sick, but he is not weak. He is goddamn Rezyl Azzir, champion of Six Fronts, of Twilight Gap, and of the Crucible. He picks up the pieces and puts them back together.

“I am Rezyl Azzir,” he mutters to himself in confirmation.

You and I both know that isn’t true. He isn’t sure if it’s his thought--or Theirs. He flicks the lights off. He takes the Rose with him and opens the door.

Aster, named for the flower of the same name, has the color of one; a gentle purple. His shell lacks shine; Rezyl hasn’t polished it in weeks and the Ghost can hardly apply it himself. Aster reels back in surprise as the door swings open.

“Good Traveler!” he exclaims, then comes back forward cautiously. “You look...”

“...like shit,” Rezyl closes his eyes briefly. It’s not as quiet anymore. It’s raining. The window in his room back down the hall rattles loud enough for him to hear. “I’m alright, Aster. I just need to sleep.” These are the most words he’s said to the Ghost in two weeks.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” the Ghost sighs, “I was going to say--” he does a double take, then floats right up to Rezyl’s face--”Are your eyes glowing?”

He grunts, then walks past Aster into the hallway. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he growls, too tired to tolerate this.

The hall is dark, with the only light being the occasional flashes of lighting that dance across the floor, flecking the hardwood with the silhouettes of raindrops on the windows. He’s intimately familiar with the halls of his own home, so he can make it around just fine despite the low visibility. Aster follows behind, sputtering.

“You don’t get to just shrug me off,” the Ghost spits with vitriol, “after weeks of not telling me a single damn thing. You know how many times I’ve seen you, Rezyl, in those fourteen days? Once; you were asleep.”

“So for not very long, then,” Rezyl snorts, shouldering his way into his room. The rattling is much louder. His bed is as messy as he left it. Aster’s charging port is on the desk, though it’s more of a nest than it is a machine, comprised of soft cloths and blankets. The Guardian sits down on the edge of the bed. The Ghost hovers, shell twitching anxiously.

“I can’t believe you think this is funny.”

“It isn’t funny.” Rezyl shrugs.

“No, it isn’t! What if you had gotten into trouble and I wasn’t there to help you?” He darts this way and that, a Ghost’s way of pacing. “It’s just like the bloody Hellmouth on Luna all over again. Every day that you brought me there and left me at the precipice to pursue the Hive, I never knew if we were going to leave together.”

“I didn’t want you to see the things I did.” Rezyl leans back, staring up at the ceiling. “The fury of the Hive is not something anyone should witness. This is my burden to bear, Ghost, not yours. Leave it at that.” He turns over, towards the window. The drops that strike the window are relentless. The lights of the City blink in the blue.

“You are my burden to bear, as your Ghost.” Aster covers his view of the window. Rezyl can tell he’s angry; his shell is tighter than Vanguard restrictions. “Nothing has changed that. Not even two weeks of complete silence. Besides, you wouldn’t know the sort of things I saw before I met you. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself If you died, much less you for leaving me alone in the first place.” Aster leaves that hanging in the air. Thunder rumbles above them.

It isn’t like Rezyl is lying. He really hadn’t wanted the Ghost to be enveloped in so much Darkness. Though, now with the Rose and his slow deterioration and the whispers, it doesn’t matter. There will always be Darkness, as long as there is Light. And that is the problem, the root of poison: Light. This cursed existence, to make friends and enemies only with other immortals, to cut ties with the Lightless.

It’s not as if Guardians perceive themselves as superior; it’s just better for both parties involved. Their immortality isn’t guaranteed, either. Such high power is tangled in the many strings attached. What’s the point of it anymore?

Rezyl is grateful to be alive. Grateful to the Traveler. But he is not satisfied just yet. There are things in this city, in this world, that have to be fixed. Monsters to be slain. People with powers they don’t deserve that needed to be cut down. He’s seen it everywhere. Luna, Earth, anywhere the Fallen or Hive or man have planted themselves; there is no peace where they run rampant.

He knows in some small part of himself that it’s no way of peacekeeping--enforcing it through fear and blood--but for once, it will have to take the wrong form of ideology to get the job done. He’s tried the Traveler’s way and it only postpones the battle for another day.

No more. There will be peace. Nothing like Twilight Gap or Six Fronts or the massacre on Luna will ever happen again.

Then and there, lying on his back in his bed, listening to the distant thunder and his Ghost rambling on, Rezyl realizes what he has to do and vows to himself this: I will listen this time.

Aster returns to his charging port with a huff. Rezyl turns his head, rustling the sheets, to watch the Ghost’s path.

“Aster?” he says to the Ghost. He says nothing to his Guardian, understandably frustrated with his silence. The Guardian frowns and decides not the badger at him any more than he has already.

He turns his head back to the ceiling. What Rezyl doesn’t know is how the little Light will factor into this new plan of his. What would he even say to his proposal? Would he try and dissuade him, tell him that it’s a fruitless endeavour? It wouldn’t matter. Rezyl is the Guardian; Aster is the Ghost. Rezyl says what goes. He closes his eyes.

I’m ready to listen, he thinks, sending it out into the black expanse behind his eyelids. He falls asleep to the sound of the storm, looming and inevitable, and it, in turn, listens to him.

Chapter 2 coming tomorrow night.

#destiny 2 #dredgen yor #rezyl azzir #destiny 2: shadowkeep #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #mine #my writing #my first posted destiny fic!

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shadowdianne · 5 years ago

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Half of it: Reunion

Welp. I threw this one in just 40 minutes the day I watched the movie. Didn’t proof-read it much afterwards and I merely thought on sending it to the roomie -narrows eyes at the Tumblr darkness: M, give me your Tumblr pretty pls.- But I guess... why not sharing it here xD

Attention: Not many spoilers or plot points discussed aside from, you know, the obvious. At any case proceed with caution if you haven’t watched it yet.

The air was icy when the train stopped, the rails whining at the sudden halt and by the time Ellie jumped out of compartment, boots firm against the pebbled road, she breathed in the scent of asphalt and soon-to-be snow that permeated the nighttime breeze.

She could have gotten in town much earlier, when the night wasn’t a shadow already passed over the horizon. On her wrist, dutifully annotated, where the timetables of the different trains that would have run from her campus to her childhood home but she had felt reluctant to do so and when she squared her shoulders and brought her right hand back to where she had put her trolley with a heavy thud mere moments before, she nibbled into her bottom lip, nerves getting the best of her once again.

It wasn’t the city on itself, she told herself as she started to walk towards her right, the train groaning as it picked up speed once more. She hadn’t felt a reaction inside of her the moment the rails had curled and run through the few and distant buildings that signaled the line between forest and town. The lush green marred with salt-peppered grey concrete had made her smile for once after all: the knowledge that she wasn’t stuck but merely passing a different kind of feeling to get drunk into once she realized that she had left for good. Yet, as she walked past the rails and the small cabin she had spent so much in, nerves didn’t quite leave her lungs. Spreading, mutating, they formed a tight ball around her throat that made her swallow by the time she reached her home, her former home.

She knew her father was inside, the lights on the kitchen’s window enough to tell her she had already been spotted by the man and the sounds coming from the ajar door signaling that he had already put a film to watch together while they ate. This time, though, the one he was probably giving her like every other pause he now used to give her whenever she called, amidst exams and outings and books that should be read for the next class she was supposed to take, a whirlwind of unspoken understanding.

He had never quite asked her why she had trouble wondering what life was back in town whenever she asked about Paul work. She suspected that, eventually, it didn’t matter how far off he was from the little town’s busy life: rumors were unperturbable to time. It was only a matter of it before he got to hear what had happened months ago. She would answer the questions that would spill of course, but she doubted very much that the man would ever question her.

And that, she considered while she pushed the door open, was as much of a blessing as it was a curse.

Not that she hadn’t talked to others about what had happened during her last months of her senior year. Private as she was there were things that eventually spilled out of one’s mind. Even if one didn’t want it so. But she still wondered if she would feel raw or betrayed if her father questioned it, if he told her to confide in him.

Morose wasn’t a feeling she often felt like but the thought of being halfway through her university career, the two years bell having been ringing on her ears ever since she had turned her last paper in, felt like a looming doom that she couldn’t run fast enough from. Which was probably the reason why that, when her father had asked her if she would be up for a small reunion of two to three days using up the few days between papers and the time she would need to go back to her in-university job, she had said yes.

Maybe to show him that there was nothing new about herself. Maybe to tell herself that there was, in fact, something.

Nevertheless, she took the last steps and smiled at his silhouette, at the way his shoulders hunched and moved as he stepped forward to hug her. Short, brief, awkward. They still were after all. That much hadn’t changed.

Patting his back, she looked around, spotting the bag that was emblazoned with Munsky’s Dinner symbol. The telling note on how his father has kept contact with the little glance of the outside world that she had brought into those years ago.

“You look good.” She said, words rusty but language prevailing and Edwin nodded curtly with just a shadow of a smile curving his lips. It felt good, she thought, pointing at what had been her room, trolley still behind her, secure on her already freezing hand. “Let me change and we can start dinner.”

He said nothing to her, merely remaining busy while she climbed up and by the time she reached the last few steps she tucked her chin into her chest, content and less anxious that there hadn’t been any tearful reunion nor cutting questions into the what or how. Pushing the trolley until it stopped at the end of her bed, she glanced around, flinching ever so slightly at the empty feeling of the room; the thought of being trespassing into a person she had been once not quite hitting her as strongly as she had feared it would. She hadn’t changed that much obviously. But there were things, small things, that made her look at the wood on the walls and the rickety pieces of written papers on the side table, before glancing towards the duvet, expecting almost to see something there, a letter that could have been sent but had never reached her for a reason she would get to listen to later.

Her bed was empty, though, devoid of a letter, and she looked at the window in where the dying lights of orange-ish lamps pooled around the rails as they mixed with the grey smoke that seemed to permanently come off from the nearby road. The one she had taken time and time again to get to school.

In there, dividing the slope that would eventually turn to the town proper, the stone wall made of red bricks blinked into existence. She hadn’t looked towards it when she had gotten off the train, the metal shielding her from it, the thought of seeing her father blinding her to anything else. Which, perhaps, had been her error because there, waiting, cans of paint and a blank slate of white painted over the red awaited her with one single word written in deep blue. The kind of one that could be water if one tilted their head enough, eyes narrowing until the lights hurt less.

“Hello.”

And it could be a message to anyone. It probably was, her rational part whispered to her as she turned and stormed out of the room, trolley forgotten, patterns of dust imprinted on her boots. But she had shared enough letters to recognize the handwriting, enough, she hoped, to be able to link to them in a second. And not like she hadn’t looked at the string of messages they had one shared a few times during her stay; hoping against hope to be on the receiving end of a message that would telegraph the longing she herself felt. Eventually, she had realized that she could also be the one sending a message, three dots that would eventually turn into a confession with a much deeper meaning that the one she had almost shouted to everyone in the midst of a proposal that should have never happened. And, at the thought of doing that, at the weight that on itself had brought upon her mind, she had revoked herself from the sentiment: unsure if she was strong enough to bear it.

It had been a fling. She had told herself. An almost maybe. A promise in the shape of a kiss in the middle of an empty road; a brave yet stupid declaration that had kept her on stitches every time she considered coming back there for just a spell. No one should weigh themselves for the things they did back when they were 17.

No one should be that cruel.

Her father said nothing as she run past him, the handle on the main door frozen beneath her fingertips, the shock minute with the way she pulled it back towards her as she stepped into the road once again. Crossing to the other side of the road she stood at the brink of the now empty rail, her boots straining against the metal, the sole of her feet protesting. Beneath the cans, tucked away, a note laid, paper that felt as if it could fling against her fingers if she wished hard enough. Crouching next to the cans, one hand caressing the paint, feeling the coldness coming from it, the slowly drying white, she unfolded the note with two fingers and her teeth, moving the paper away from her as she refused to move her other hand away from the wall.

“I wasn’t sure then. I am now.”

She tried to laugh, a blubber escaping her lips, peal of bubbles that piled up within her as she looked up.

It had been two years. Two stupid years made in a dare, in a flamboyant act of selfish righteousness. But she had gotten to learn that she could be selfish on her own love. If that made sense. It the words she had uttered had been something beyond an escapist explanation of why she had ever convinced herself that what she was doing was nothing but right. It shouldn’t be this complicated. It didn’t need to be. She had gotten the taste of how it could not be if she dared to look past the circle she had put herself in once.

And then, as a distant nagging sensation, her phone buzzed on her back pocket. Once, twice.

She never got to see what it was, as she heard the pebbles sliding off the path when a new set of boots moved in closer, waiting for her to look up.

Aster’s was looking at her with the same intensity she had once upon a time looked at her, when they had been in the lagoon and Ellie had thought she would combust if she ever dared to ask to feel her fingers around her forearms once more as she battled for a shirt that she had felt unsafe enough, exposed enough, to keep on wearing. She had her phone on her hand, the light illuminating her skin, her wrist, her nails. She had a stroke of dyed color on her hair. Not clear enough for the descending light to catch on it but deep enough for her eyes to pause on it, on the way it framed her eyes, her face, her smile. Pointing towards the wall, she shrugged half-way.

“Paul told me you’d be here. I wanted to leave as soon as you saw…. But I couldn’t.”

There were hundreds of questions Ellie felt like asking, and some others she didn’t feel like questioning. She could feel her father’s eyes on the kitchen’s windowsill, the scent of already heated food reaching them both as she stood, slowly, while curling her fingers, forming a ball she now made it reach the front pocket of her parka, skin wet and crackling from the humid paint.

She had wondered. Of course, she had. She had expected herself to be bolder in front of Aster only due to the years that had passed, for the exhilarating thought of maybe she being right.

She was none of those things: she felt robbed of both voice and temper. There was nothing but the ache on her muscles of thousands of steps never taken. Yet, she realized that she quite liked the thought: of the possibility that the message on her phone could be, even if she never dared to look at it.

“It’s been two years.” Her voice felt rough at the back of her throat, her tongue like wood and sand, the same sand she hadn’t gotten to see until she had left. And even then. Aster halted at her, lips half-closed, a look of recognition shining through her eyes. Laughing weakly, she nodded again, giving her a second half-shrug, this time aimed at both, rather than the wall that now extended at Ellie’s right, like a page about to be filled.

“You said two.”

“I said two.”

It was an idiotic set of words, combinations and grammar be dammed. Yet Ellie laughed a little as they kept on looking at each other. As if expecting something. She had been the one rushing last time, hasn’t she? Was that what was expected from her? To be the one keeping the promise she had told.

But then, Aster moved forward, timidly at first, more secure later, and promptly grasped her forearm, the one with her painted skin, and pulled, making her stumble as her fingers slipped away from the pocket, crusty and suddenly warm enough to be melt. She pushed back, because that had been them, at the very beginning, before anything had transformed into the mess that had been. And when she did, muscles answering, she felt a second pull, this one on her shoulder, poignant glance darkening the space.

Her lips felt numb at the end of everything, her chest open, her eyes hurting when her eyelids responded.

“How about no more waiting?”

This time she didn’t answer. Not with words.

Words could be screwed. And promises of a time that should be spent waiting scattered in the wind, against the windows, over the rooftops, beyond the town’s sign.

#half of it #fic #hi there I'm not dead

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blacknovelist · 5 years ago

Text

Half-Empty, Half-Full (FE3H Fic)

hey hi what’s up lads, so I like, 100% forgot I could post my piece for the @threehouseszine Beneath The Banner (also available on Twitter under the same name) and as such I’m like ten years late. :) But the zine has been sent out, and I finally noticed like the fool I am that others have posted their pieces, and thusly, I too will post mine! Because I can. And I want to.

My focus was on the Golden Deer post-skip, specifically in some nebulous point during the war. Being part of this zine was really, really cool -- I can’t wait for all the books and merch to arrive with everyone!

(will reblog with links because we all know tumblr likes to break things.)

A beat of something nice, amid the fragments of harder times.

In the spaces between war — between scattered supply checks and ration distribution, bandit skirmishes and long watch nights — Hilda finds the time she needs to breathe.

It came easier, back in the academy. She could simply step back and let the world move around her, steadfast in her belief that it would still be standing when she returned. Nowadays she steals the air in her lungs from glances at the sky and quick delivery walks, from the chip of chisel and steel against stone and wood, from the sensation of gems and petals inlaid on clothes, chains and hooks when she can afford to lay down her axe. Infrequency makes the beats between battles all the more precious.

With the professor around she can afford more pauses still, but Hilda watches herself. She knows, all too well, just how young she is. Claude lies at one year her junior and the professor, with their five year hiatus, sits at two. It wouldn't do for her stubborn leaders to find someone they can’t believe in among their ranks, now.

She’s on the run for errands when she spots a hint of not-plant green and wood not far off the beaten path, and she wastes no time following that tried and true Deer instinct to take a peek. Ignatz is there, as expected, easel propped on a patch of flat land, what she can see of the canvas a tasteful blend of browns and golds. He leans in, fingers dabbed in the same off-white his paintbrush dusts onto his scene.

Now, Hilda doesn’t paint, but she does understand the stress and struggle of art, different forms aside. Which is why she waits until he leans back before she steps forward and taps his shoulder.

“Hey, Ignatz.”

Ignatz yelps, almost drops his brush and earns himself a stripe on his palm for his troubles. “Hilda! Hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there.”

“Don't worry about it.” She clasps her hands together. “What’re you painting?"

"I wanted to capture the cathedral, while it's still under repair." He gestures to his piece — the white forms the glint of sunlight off patches of rubble, steel and glass, along with the robes of monks and priests as they shift and sweep aside what debris they can. "A lot of artists depict places in their prime, or utterly destroyed, or after they've been restored to their former glory. I thought it would be nice to show the in-between for once. People from every background imaginable, coming together to rebuild for the future. A little different from what I usually paint, but sometimes a little variety is nice."

"And you're doing it all the way out here because…"

"I didn't want to be in anyone's way, and I come out here a lot. I've got plenty of references with me, so it's not a problem." Ignatz shifts and Hilda catches sight of a stack of sketchbooks, some more worn than others, half-spilled from a bag. The top one gets plucked up and held between them as he flips from page to page. Statue busts, the altar and rows of pews among pillars rendered in charcoal and sleek pigment lines. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of green and blue and other colors, or shapes that don't quite match the church art he focuses on, but Ignatz flips too fast for her to see.

Or, almost. "Go back two pages," Hilda says. A grin tugs at her lips. "Was that Claude?"

"Oh! Uh, yes." Though Ignatz learned to leave embarrassment and nerves about his art behind, something in his chest still squirms, just a bit. An image of their leader in the library, face cast in candlelight and more at peace than he ever is during daylight, stares up at the duo. "It's easier when I’m with a person, but sometimes I'll do studies on my own. Practice makes perfect, after all."

"It's beautiful." She reaches out, pauses. "May I…?"

He passes it over. "Here. You can look at the others, too. I don't mind." Then he turns back to the easel and reaches for his paint. "Anyway, I thought this was as good a spot to work as any. There's a field down that way you can see best in the spring, and I like the view of everything from here."

"You'll have to show me when it's in season."

Her eyes flicker over thick paper. Statues. Flowers, trees, forest paths. Distance shots of people, strolling towards town. Swirls of filigree and patterns fill whole pages in patches, tiny stylized animals and the occasional dragon tucked into the empty space. Silhouettes crowd around the pews, and even if she recognizes clothes, many of these smaller figures are faceless.

But she finds a loose sketch, hair popping blond against black ink, of Raphael and a young girl with the same square jaw and broad shoulders. Claude himself appears once more, this time in wireframe form, ordinary steel bow drawn all the way back and arrow pointed to the left. When she plucks one of his other books from the stack it follows a similar trend — renderings of the cathedral, inside and out, stuck in among horse-drawn carriages and sunlit grass patches and clothes and people, both familiar and unfamiliar, faceless and defined. A few drawings are from the past few months: Sylvain in his armor, Baltie with his open-chested shirt, Leonie and her long hair, the monastery scaffolding.

Most of his drawings are from the academy days.

Lindhardt, leaned against a tree, the shadow of leaves mottled on his lap. Herself and Marianne seated in the dining hall. Lysithea, with a book in one hand and a swirl of magic in the other. Claude and Lorenz mid-argument. Felix as he trains blade blurred and bent as he lunges. Dimitri and Dedue bent over a table in their classroom. Edelgard as she strides across the courtyard, Hubert one step behind. Busts of the professor and Jeralt, side by side, the faintest quirk in their lips.

Hilda looks up and pauses. Ignatz presses so close to the canvas he’s peering over the wire frames of his glasses rather than through, brow furrowed and jaw set. She shuts an eye as the sun slips out from behind what’s left of Garreg Mach’s spires. Greyscale flowers peer up from the pages, a reflection of the few asters scattered around their feet. Mountain monastery air goes down sweet and full in her lungs.

"I gotta say, Ignatz,” she says, the edge of her thumb smudged in stray charcoal. "These are amazing. How long have you been doing art?"

"Since I was little." He leans back, considers his work, then leans in again. "My parents are merchants, so we delivered paintings and statuettes to a lot of noble houses in the Alliance. One day I found some extra supplies lying around so I just… picked it up and gave it a shot."

"Well, I'm glad you did. Even these plain sketches look much nicer than anything I could do, and don't even get me started on painting. No offense, Ignatz, but no thank you. Definitely not my wheelhouse."

Ignatz pauses. "None taken, and thank you. You draw?”

"Not much." She waves a hand. "My talents lie in accessories. I like to plan before I start working, figure out how it should come together and doodle in the margins a little sometimes, that's all."

"You're always wearing beautiful jewelry, but I didn't realize you made them yourself." A smile breaks out across his face. "That's amazing, Hilda!"

A blush rolls across her cheeks and she can't stop the tug of her lips into a matching grin. "Oh, stop it. Really?"

"Of course! The colors and shapes you use match your hair, complexion, and the clothes you tend to wear quite beautifully." His brush plunges into a cup of water by the foot of his easel and faces her fully. "When did you start?"

"A long time ago, now – I'm not even sure exactly how long, anymore. I used to make flower crowns and necklaces with my big brother, and it just spun out from there." The book lies closed in her hands now. Her finger runs up and down the paper, feels the grooves between unaligned pages. "I could make them as pretty or ugly as I wanted, so long as I was happy in the end. No one ever expected anything more or less. Not that I ever made something ugly, mind you."

Ignatz hummed. "Have you ever considered selling them?"

"Not really.” Hilda tilts her head. “Do you think it'd be a good idea?"

"Absolutely! You should consider it, once the war is over. I bet people would love them."

She taps her chin. “I’ll give it some thought. What about you, Ignatz? What do you plan on doing once this whole mess is behind us?”

“Well… Ideally, I’ll keep painting,” he says. “Even if I have to do it between my duties as a knight. It might make it hard to find a household to serve, but I don’t want to just stop.”

“Why are you aiming to be a knight? How come you’re not just going off to be an artist or something like you want to?”

“My parents sent me to the academy since my brother’s taking over the business. They didn’t really approve of the whole artist thing.” Ignatz shrugs. “I don’t really think I’m all that cut out for it, to be honest. Fighting’s never been my strong suit.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Hilda says. “Have you ever spoken to them about it?”

He shook his head. "Not much recently, at least."

“You should. Maybe you can convince them, after all this. And if you can’t, then just come to House Goneril, okay? I’ll let you paint as much as you want.”

“That would be nice.” He smiles, then bends to reach for his bag. “Thank you, Hilda.”

“Any time.” She holds the sketchbook out. Ignatz takes it, tucks it gently alongside the others. Before he can put his brush away, he pauses.

“If you have time,” he starts. "Would you like to join me out here again tomorrow? We could work on our projects together, if you have any."

Hilda smiles. "I'd love to, but I'm on stock duty tomorrow. No shuffling off the responsibility for that."

"I see. That's too bad. Maybe next time?"

"... Sure. I'd like that."

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #FE3H #FE3h Fic #FE3H Zine #Beneath The Banner zine #Blacknovelist Writes #long post #(in case readmore breaks tho it shouldn't really)

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sweettoothshipperrotg · 6 years ago

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okay I know I said last one but,,,,,, i couldn’t help myself- SO how about Superhero AU? With FrostedNature? (loveuthankubye)

Oh you and your promises of not sending more prompts. LIKE.YOU.COULD.HOLD.OUT (don’t you worry baby it’s fine, your prompts always make me happy :3)

Sorry this took so long, but I’ve finlly completed it.

Based on: ‘You’re my arch nemesis but our best friends are dating…I guess I’ll play nice in civvies, for now’ AU

Hope you enjoy!

SECRET IDENTITITES, MY FOOT

Jackson Overland Frost couldn’t believe his eyes when Bunnymund introduced his girlfriend’s best friend.

This was supposed to be a nice evening. He had cleared up his schedule specifically for tonight (if he kept on canceling every time something “came up”, Bunny would probably have strangled him) and was more than ready to enjoy his first free night in three years.

Luckily, he had been spared his friend’s backlash since Tooth’s friend also had to unexpectedly rain check their outing several times.

It wasn’t like Jack didn’t like the idea of his friend now being engaged (albeit, it had shaken him a little). Toothiana was a lovely woman, a bubbly behavior that balanced Bunny´s down to earth personality. The aussie had never been in such a long relationship before, but on the four year mark he decided to pop the question.

Jack, as the newly designated best man, was having a hard time handling his responsibilities for his friend’s wedding, his job at North’s store, and his “extracurricular activities”.

The couple had declared that their two friends had to meet in order for their nuptials to smoothly continue.

Toothiana had told him a little about the future bridesmaid. Emily Jane was a no-nonsense successful botanic researcher who Tooth had met at college and become friends with.

To anyone else such a friendship would have seemed rather odd, but considering that he had and Bunny had become friends when the blue-eyed boy was getting his ass handed to him during a bar fight, he understood. His opponent had managed to throw him over the table when Jack had tried to be a knight in shining armor and save one of his friends from a rather insistent ex-boyfriend. Aster had knocked the douchebag with a mean right hook and helped Jack up from the floor.

They had been besties ever since.

Now he was at a fancy restaurant in a five-star hotel, surrounded by his two friends and sitting in front of a stunning woman in a black dress who was sending intense glances his way.

Not in the sexy sense, more like “I want to murder you with this very steak knife I have in my hand” kinda way.

Although his presence had never warranted such a reaction from anyone he had met, there was a little problem.

He knew this woman.

And judging by the recognition in her eyes when they shook hands for the first time, she knew him as well.

Despite his best effort to keep his night job and his personal life separate, it seems it had come back to bite him.

The woes that betides a superhero.

Yes, he had superpowers. And yes he spent most of his free time as a vigilante making the streets of Burgess City a little safer to tread.

By now, Jack Frost had become more than just a fable among people.

It had been quite a decision when his ice powers manifested for the same time after his close call with death at the local pond he used to skate at with his little sister.

He remembered the cold and the dark water that surrounded him. He can even recall his sister screaming out his name from the surface. But then he woke up in a hospital bed after being unconscious for days and with his mother and sister asleep by his bedside.

His powers took two weeks to show themselves.

A glisten and a flurry of ice shot out of his hand into the tree next to him and covered it with an intricate and budding frost pattern. And the rest was history.

Had it not been for the present tense atmosphere, he would have chuckled at his memory of his first years as a superhero, running around with a mask and in an old blue hoodie. What a reckless kid he had been.

Thankfully his current supersuit was now more outfitted for combat and to handle his powers. North had been very helpful after Jack had busted into his shop to stop a large robbery.

And yes, of course North knew of his double life (the ex Russian scientist was his go to tech guy, after all). A superhero couldn’t keep down a stable job as easily as the comics made it look, and he had rent to pay.

In his many comings and goings he had faced many different foes: the low life criminals that preyed on the streets, the low level grunts of the mafia families, even a few corrupt leaders of the crime syndicates that sat atop of the city.

But none had been such a challenge like his arch nemesis. Persephone.With such a taste for dramatics, no wonder the universe had decided to search for someone to meet her match.

Her phytokinetic powers had him gawking at her when they first met at a bank robbery – that she orchestrated!

With a graceful swoop she and her plants had descended upon him and confronted him in one of the most engaging combats he had had in ages.

He was quick and nimble, but her defense and her strikes knocked the wind out of him.

Luckily, he had entertained her enough for the police back up to arrive.

She had left him fighting off thorny vines and unable to follow her and end the dance they had started.

Jack Frost had encountered the mysterious woman several other times.

She seemed to dabble in several types of crimes, but was quite adept to burglary. The high-class type. Although those pompous fishes could do with having a little less money, the upper class victims were outraged at the inability of the police to catch the masked villainess.

The mystery that was Persephone had kept him awake many nights. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all from a sleuth-related nature.

Her sly smile was ever present when he closed his eyes, so was her taught yet lithe body he had felt during close quarters combat and her alluring and taunting voice.

In other words, his imagination was playing against him. And he was losing, part of him wanted to put her behind bars so he would stop thinking of her so damn much.In another universe, these two characters would have never recognized the other; oblivious of their double life until some convoluted hand of destiny revealed their identities at a more inconvenient time.

But it seemed that fate had other plans.

His mind was brought back from his machinations all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this call.” Emily’s voice apologized profusely to her friend. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

She sauntered out of view, almost as if she knew that his eyes would follow her.

“I…uh…I gotta use the restroom” He spluttered and excused himself away from the couple.

Jack passed the restrooms, and made his way to the open courtyard the hotel had.It looked quite pretty with the lights that illuminated the ornate fountain.

She was there, with her back to him and appearing to admire the abundant yet harmonic greenery that surrounded them.

Oh how freaking convenient.

He approached, carefully as you would to a deadly animal. The frost was starting to surge on his palm but yet he didn’t attack. The place was secluded but not enough for a full on battle to go unnoticed.

“Of all the places in this city, I find you here.” She still did not turn to face him. “How odd, isn’t it?”

Jack didn’t answer, sizing her up. He felt relief that she hadn’t take the steak knife with her, but that feeling burst when he realized she was far more deadly without it.

“And here I was planning such a show for when we met again.” Persephone said in her usual tone; the type of confident voice that came from always holding all the cards.

“Eager to see me, sweetheart?” The word escaped his mouth before he could help it.

They had slipped into well-known roles; their war of wits just as accelerating to him as their physical warfare.

“Flirt all you want, Frost.” Her head turned to glance at him, a smirk blooming in her lips. “But you’re not handing me over to the police just yet.”

The plants around them swooshed, but not because of the wind.

“Really?” Jack clenched his jaw, his muscles tensing. “And why is that?”

She now fully turned around and stepped forward, but he held his ground.

“Because you wouldn’t want to break your dear friend’s heart, would you?”

That sent a rush of fear through his blood. Instantly, a sharp spike of ice was forming onto his hand and was inches away from her neck. She didn’t even flinch. “If you dare harm Bunny or Tooth-”

“Spare me the theatrics, Frost.” She said calmly, as if she didn’t have an ice blade to her neck ready to run her through. “I’m not going to hurt any of them.”

Ok, that had him baffled.

“What?”

“I happen to truly care for Toothiana, and I even like Bunnymund enough to entrust him the safety and happiness of the only true friend I’ve ever had.” She firmly explained in all seriousness. “I would walk through burning coals for her and make anyone who hurts her wish they were dead.”

“What I meant to say is that we happen to be their best man and bridesmaid, quite crucial to their wedding if memory serves me right.” Emily continued to explain. “And I think it would put a damper on their wedding if I were to get rid of you or, in the most unlikely case, for you to send me to prison. That’s why I’ve decided we should reach a compromise.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“A truce.” She replied with a confident smile. “I don’t go around on my nightly activities and you don’t try to throw me in jail while our friends are planning their wedding. Heck, we might have to work together to make it happen so it would be useful to not be at each other’s throats.”

Jack Frost had not expected this at all. Was she truly going to just play nice with him until their friends were married?

It felt like he was missing something. Once more, she had pulled the rug from under his feet.

Jack shook his head to clear out the fog, as the wheels spun inside his head. “How can I trust Burgess City’s top criminal to keep her word?”

“I guess it’s all about a leap of faith” She stepped closer and gently placed a hand on his chest, the ice dagger now pressing firmly against her skin but she paid it no mind since she was finding him far more interesting. The conflict that battled within those blue eyes of his was positively delicious, and so was his accelerated heartbeat. “Aren’t you heroes all about that, anyways?”

Silence stretched over them, both enemies sizing each other up for the others next move. But, in the end, it was him who spoke.

To be honest, he was probably making the biggest mistake of his life.

“Fine.” He warily acquiesced. “We play nice until Bunny and Tooth get married, but if I find out that you’re at it again then the deal is off.”

“Sounds good to me” She grinned, trying to suppress the mix of anticipation and adrenaline that had her self-control in such shaky grounds. “Now would you kindly put the icicle away? I need to get back to our table before Tooth gets worried.”

The spike vanished, and he retreated back so her influence would stop messing with his head.

She made her way out of the garden, but turned around to end their encounter with one last warning. “Don’t worry, once we cart them off to their honeymoon we can go back to destroying each other like always”

He didn’t grace her with an answer as the sharp click of her stilettos faded away in the distance.

Jack combed a hand through his hair and sighed.

There were definitely going to be some interesting months ahead of him.

TADA! Hope you liked it.

If you feel like sending asks, don´t hesitate to do so (it might take time but I’ll eventually get there, I promise!)

#emily jane pitchiner #Jack Frost #frosted nature #rise of the guardians #ROTG #jackfrostxemilyjanepitchiner #guardians of childhood #GoC

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aurora-tsuki · 6 years ago

Text

[A Formal Entry]

I keep trying to write about the heist that happened. I am finding it hard to put into words.

I am trying to break it down into facts. I went with A’kata, C’reiyah, F’cahnah, and Aster. That was both nice, and scary. I have not spoken to any of them much. While I did not have anyone in my family with me, like I normally do, I suppose that is a good thing. I know I rely on them too much. But there feels this... distance growing. I don’t know.

A’kata trusted me to “hack” the consoles. I use the term loosely, as there was not much I needed to do. She provided a pad that displayed what the possible password options could be. It allowed for four tries before the console would recognize something was wrong, and lock us out.

The first one I got through with luck. I misunderstood the program, and how it worked. F’cahnah was able to decipher the second one, as she had figured out the pattern. Thanks to her, it made getting the last one very easy.

But what we found down there...

We wrapped up our business in the vault while the bridge was still being taken. It gave us some time to talk, after everything had happened... It pulls at my memories. The one’s that I can’t recall, I mean. Everything down there had a strange blur to it all. I kept thinking I saw other things...

I learned about A’kata, and the history of the Black Garden. The company is not bad but it is also not good. There is a grey to it. It is a balance that must be had and maintained, there can be no true good or bad.

This time, the grey made things blurry though. It made the edges grow dark. Our company may be grey, but what we interact with is not.

The facts. I went with A’kata, C’reiyah, F’cahnah, and Aster. Our client was Dietthard. We turned on him. We killed a dog. We killed a man. Those women were slaves. I do not like guns.

Mentions: @gunslingermiqo @creiyah

#blackgardenco #mateus #ffxiv rp #ffxiv journal #saphyra tsuki #rp journal

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nochocolate · 8 years ago

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W.D. Gaster Masterpost

(undertale spoilers)

Doctor W.D. Gaster is an enigma shrouded in mystery, with very little known about him. Despite the scarce amount of information, this character is a popular topic for many fans who are desperate to know who he is. After the January 2016 patch, more “fun” events became available in regular gameplay, driving more people to look for answers as to who Gaster is.

The following is a breakdown of facts, circumstantial evidence, and unconfirmed theories on Gaster. All technical information mentioned below is based on v1.001 of the game.

Facts

Before Gaster is discussed, three important characters should be considered -- the followers.

Facts about the followers:

There are three followers.

Their sprite names are spr_g_follower_1, spr_g_follower_2, and spr_g_follower_3.

Their object names in the code are obj_gaster_follower_b, obj_gaster_follower_a, and obj_gaster_follower_c.

Each follower has a very low chance of appearing.

Follower_1: fun value 62 and 50% chance = 0.5% chance

Follower_2: fun value 61 and 20% chance = 0.2% chance

Follower_3: fun value 63 and 50% chance = 0.5% chance

These are the only monsters that ever mention Gaster by name.

They share a monochrome gray color theme.

Two of them use the words “they say” in reference to what they know.

Frisk’s phone does not turn on in their presence.

Follower_2 disappears after speaking.

Since the followers are the only characters that mention Gaster by name, what is known as canon about Gaster is derived from their dialogue. However, because the followers speak in such a hearsay manner (e.g. “They say he created the Core.”), it’s hard to be sure how accurate this information is. With little else to go on, this information will be taken at face value.

Facts and hearsays about Gaster:

He was the previous Royal Scientist, before Alphys.

His brilliance was “irreplaceable”, which is why Asgore took so long to replace him.

He created the CORE.

His life was cut short.

He fell into his creation.

His experiments went wrong. (Yes, experiments is plural here).

He vanished without a trace.

He shattered across time and space.

A piece of him exists with Follower_2.

He is still listening.

Outside of what the followers share, there are a few more things known by special events in the game and by examining the code and assets.

From the game’s code, assets, etc:

Entering Gaster’s name in the character name screen causes the game to restart -- and it only happens with Gaster’s name.

The Sound Test Room in Snowdin has a 50% chance of being accessible at fun value 65 (after defeating Papyrus and before defeating Asriel in the pacifist route), and Gaster’s Theme can be played in this room. Once the song starts playing, the music cannot be changed. Eventually, the song ends and then Frisk is automatically returned to the room with the fishing rod.

Despite not having a battle, Gaster’s monster type identifier in the code is 666, and his stats are composed using only 6. (ex. HP of 666666)

Sans’ attacks, which bear resemblance to animal skulls, use six sprites called spr_gasterblaster.

An unused NPC field sprite called spr_gb_npc looks like the spr_gasterblaster sprites, but without a face.

The gasterblasters are used in the code’s obj_gasterblaster, which is used in the code’s obj_gasterbl_gen.

By editing the game’s save files, ENTRY NUMBER SEVENTEEN can be found in an unused room. The code for this room is called obj_gaster_room, confirming that the entry belongs to Gaster. The identifier for the text type is 666, and the game quits after the last line of the entry.

Circumstantial Evidence

The following is a list of reasonable deductions based on clues provided in the game. Unlike the facts listed above, these theories are not confirmed directly. However, they have enough circumstantial evidence to make a strong case.

Gaster is the original creator of the DT Extraction Machine.

Alphys specifically mentioned “using the blueprints” in her lab entry 5.

Since Alphys used these rather than created them, it’s presumed to be from the previous Royal Scientist.

W.D. Gaster refers to Wingdings and Aster (two fonts).

Wingdings shares Gaster’s initials, W.D.

Because the room with ENTRY NUMBER SEVENTEEN is coded as obj_gaster_room, Gaster has a connection to Wingdings.

If the W.D. refers to Wingdings, the name Gaster may refer to Aster. However, there is no Aster in the game.

Gaster is a skeleton.

Because Sans and Papyrus are named after fonts and are skeletons, Gaster is assumed to be a skeleton.

The Core was built before New Home.

Considering New Home is built above the CORE, it’s reasonable to assume Gaster built the CORE before the Royal Family moved to New Home.

Gaster may have a connection to the monster that appears in a room behind a gray door in Waterfall -- Mystery Man.

The sprites are called spr_mysteryman.

The object name in the code is obj_mysteryman.

At fun value 66, there is a 10% chance of this door appearing. That means there is a mere 0.1% chance of finding this door without hacking or cheating.

Frisk cannot collide with Mystery Man; they walk right through.

When interacted with, Mystery Man disappears, and the sound effect snd_mysterygo plays. It is the same one that plays for the disappearing Follower_2, who claims to be holding a piece of Gaster.

Unlike with the followers, the phone can be used, but there is no response.

Gaster may have a connection to the monster in an inaccessible room in Waterfall -- Redacted A.

Its sprite is called spr_redacted_a_0.

Its object name in the code is obj_redacted_a.

The room can be accessed by editing the game’s save files, but only after disabling dogcheck.

The monster is solid and cannot be walked through.

It disappears if Frisk moves away from it, and reappears if Frisk moves towards it.

This is the only monster that speaks in Wingdings, specifically all lowercase. Its only dialogue is “* [redacted]”.

The text sound used for Redacted A’s dialogue is the same one used for ENTRY NUMBER SEVENTEEN.

Sans has a connection to Gaster

Sans uses gasterblasters in his battle.

Sans has blueprints with unreadable symbols in his secret lab. The narration remarks that it may be just the handwriting that makes it illegible, perhaps implying it belongs to Alphys who’s handwriting is described as illegible chicken-scratch. However, unreadable symbols could also mean Wingdings.

During his battle, when Sans sleeps, he snores in an unidentified serif font. This font was originally thought to be Aster, but further examination has proven this is not the case.

Popular but Unconfirmed Theories

With how little information there is and how hard it is to find, it’s easy for “fanon” to become so popular that it is misrepresented as canon. The list below is made of popular theories that are commonly misquoted as fact. This was not written to diminish the theories in any way; in fact, the reason these ideas are so popular is that they make a lot of sense and are not directly contradicted by evidence in the game. However, it’s important to know fact from fun.

“Mystery Man is Gaster.”

Because the followers, the Sound Room, and Gaster’s stats all share a pattern of 6′s, Mystery Man has an association with Gaster.

However, Gaster was said to have shattered. If this is the case, it doesn't seem right for him to still be intact as the Mystery Man.

It is more plausible that Mystery Man is a “piece” of Gaster.

Redacted A is the only monster in the game to speak in Wingdings, which makes it another candidate to being a piece of Gaster.

Dogbomber’s interpretation of Gaster was removed from the official tarot card merchandise, keeping his true identity a secret.

“Goner Kid is a follower of Gaster’s.”

Goner Kid is the gray monster kid that can be found in Waterfall.

Their sprites are called spr_mkid_goner -- it does not include the word “follower.”

Their object name in the code is obj_mkid_goner.

They have a gray color scheme like the followers.

However, Goner Kid appears if the fun value is above 90 -- not in the 60′s. This means there is a 10% chance of running into them.

Unlike the followers, the phone can be used in the room with Goner Kid to call Papyrus.

Goner Kid never mentions Gaster.

“Gaster was forgotten by everyone.”

Based on the idea that Gaster shattered across space and time somehow causes his existence to be forgotten. There is no mention of this, however.

There is also speculation that Gaster is talking through Goner Kid about how the world can be the same “except you don’t exist.” However, Goner Kid has no confirmed association with Gaster.

The word “forgotten” is never used to describe Gaster.

His followers remember him.

Nothing indicates that Asgore forgot him, especially considering he took so long looking for a replacement since Gaster’s genius was “irreplaceable.”

“Gaster is in the void.”

There is no mention of a void in the game, other than what Mettaton says at the end of his battle: “IF I LEFT... THE UNDERGROUND WOULD LOSE ITS SPARK. I'D LEAVE AN ACHING VOID THAT CAN NEVER BE FILLED.“ This is not a literal void.

The followers only ever mention that he “shattered across time and space,” “fell into his creation,” and “his life... was cut short.”

Gaster is not stuck in any void.

“Gaster wrote the true lab entries.”

Other than the ENTRY NUMBER SEVENTEEN that is written in Wingdings, there is no evidence that Gaster wrote any of the entries found in the true lab.

Alphys explains to Frisk the experiment she carried out on the fallen monsters, which the true lab entries document.

Based on supporting evidence in the game, Alphys wrote all the true lab entries.

“The followers are Gaster’s assistants.”

Nothing indicates they ever worked with Gaster.

They mention information about Gaster, but in a hearsay manner.

The “follower” name makes them seem more like fans or cult members.

Sans has a photo album filled with photos of people Frisk does not recognize, which people believe is Gaster and the followers. However, Frisk can meet any one of them, even if the chances are extremely slim.

“Sans was Gaster’s assistant.”

Sans says “you’ll never see them again” in the Lost Souls battle as if speaking from experience.

ENTRY NUMBER SEVENTEEN addresses two people at the end, but nothing confirms who these people are.

Sans speaks about “our reports” and has a scientific background, but evidence supports that Sans may have worked with Alphys instead of Gaster.

“Gaster is Sans’ and Papyrus’ father.”

Gaster is speculated to be a skeleton, so it’s commonly assumed he would be their father. However, Sans and Papyrus make no mention of family outside of each other.

A poorly drawn picture of three people smiling can be found in Sans’ photo album under the right circumstances, but there is nothing to say who these three people are.

Conclusion

Shrouded in mystery and darkness, Gaster’s identity and story continue to elude the community. Filling the gaps with speculation is part of what makes Gaster theories so much fun. Hopefully, this comprehensive master post will aid with the guidance, testing, and formulation of fan theories. While conjecture and assumptions breed compelling speculation, it is always important to distinguish fanon from canon.

» view more: album of Gaster related content

#undertale #gaster #w.d. gaster #gaster followers #goner kid #sans #sans the skeleton #ut #undertale spoilers #undertale plot #undertale theories #Mod Ellipsis #it's because of such little information #that we avoid working on theories about Gaster #while his existence is mysterious #it can be tiring to chase a shadow

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