#astral makes stuff

[astraldragons-creative]

Chapter 1 of my fic for the 2024 AA WLW Minibang is up! Featuring post-TGAA2 Susahao, mutual pining, and the greatest family in the world, as a treat.

Thank you to Vivi, Ana, and Te for being my wonderful artist partners throughout this whole process! Their art will be featured in the fic soon enough :]

[astraldragons]

Finally beat Octopath’s final boss! Took 8 tries, 11 hours, and a whole load of copium in the form of drawing the sucker in an attempt to make him go easy on me 😭

[gtanddragons]

Back with another old AA fic, woo! This one is a fair bit longer than what I usually post, and it’s (thankfully) more well-edited since I wrote it for @acetrainerhope‘s birthday a couple years ago. ^^ 

This one involves borrower!Franziska and Maya meeting for the first time, when they’re both about 13 years old! I thought it would be pretty fun/ironic if the von Karmas lived in the Fey & Co. Law Offices, so here they be. >v>

---

(Deep breaths.

In, out.

In, out.

You will be flawless. There is no other option.)

Franziska swallows thickly, even as she looks out over the sprawling expanse of the massive office space before her. From her perch on the bookshelf, she can see it all: the sofa tucked into the corner of the room, the light from a streetlamp outside dimly reflecting off of one of the framed posters on the walls… all is silent at this time of the night. 

Her task should be easy enough; she just needs to rappel down the bookshelf, swing across the gap to land atop the desk, and collect two paperclips-- maybe some push-pins, if she’s lucky. Then, rappel once more down the side of the desk to the floor, where she can then make her way to one of her family’s hidden entrances behind the bookshelves.

Relatively quick and efficient-- she feels a brief surge of pride, even despite her anxiety. Of course the plan was perfect, and the entrances and exits perfect, too; she would expect no less from her Papa and his decades of borrowing experience. 

(Relax, Franziska. Being perfect on an expedition this simple will be a cinch.)

As far as she was aware, thirteen years of age was considered rather… early for a borrower to go out on their first solo expedition, but she’s a von Karma, damn it! She can do this. She was born ready. She--

She looks out over the ledge, feeling a wave of vertigo threatening to take over her stomach. 

(...N...No… I…) 

Franziska clenches her fists, feeling the dig of her nails in the skin of her palms. Before her own racing, terrified thoughts can continue, she snaps out her grappling hook with an aggressive thwack.

(A von Karma will not be bested by heights!)

Clack-- THUNK!

Franziska huffs even as the grappling hook lodges into the wood of the bookshelf, ignoring the persistent stinging in her eyes. With a sharp tug-- and a satisfying lack of give-- she closes her eyes…

...And steps backwards off the ledge.

She lets out a sharp yelp despite herself as she plunges into open air, but she’s quickly brought back into reality as gravity, and her own momentum, cause her to swing back towards the bookshelves, and to whack her shin with a sharp crack against the unforgiving wood.

Her grip tightens on the rope, a sudden surge of rage flooding her entire body. She kicks off from the second ledge, shooting off into open air once more-- lowering herself further, to the third shelf. Another kick, another, steadier descent-- and, finally, finally, she’s only a little higher than the desk. 

(It’s time.)

She steadies herself on the fourth ledge down, her grip tightening on the rope in her hands and tugging it tightly between her clenched fists.

(I can do this!)

Her legs seem to move on their own-- backing away, before starting forward-- faster, faster, she has to go faster!

She’s jumping and the ledge is gone, the rope drawing taut in her hands even as she soars-- her heart is stilled. Nothing exists but her and the speed, the open air, the-- the--!

Her feet hit the surface of the desk with a loud clunk, the momentum sending her reeling forwards… but after a moment of stunned silence, Franziska stamps her foot and snaps the rope tight between her fists once more. An elated, high-pitched squeal escapes her lips before she can stop it, a delighted giggle slipping out with it.

(I… did it! I did it!! I DID IT!!!!)

With a flick of her wrist, the grappling hook is dislodged from the bookshelves looming above the desk, falling nigh to the floor and quietly thumping against the desk before she begins to reel it back up. A smug look settles on her face even as she hefts the coil back over her shoulder. Now, where was she--?

Cli-click…

Franziska freezes.

...Thump… thump, thump… click!

A wave of horror crashes down on her, even as, in the distance… the door leading to the office’s main entrance…

(The light… the light switch… there’s light shining from underneath the door!

Someone is coming!)

In a blind panic, Franziska darts behind what she can-- the base of the desk lamp will, hopefully, keep her shielded from any prying eyes… she hopes.

Much to her chagrin, the footsteps continue, leading into the office and opening the door with a slow creak.

“Urgh… she didn’t say it was gonna be this creepy in here at night…”

Franziska winces even as the lights are switched on, temporarily blinding her even as she huddles tighter to the base of the lamp.

(Please, don’t come any closer… please…!)

From her vantage point, she can’t make out much-- though, the sound of the approaching voice… she thinks she’s heard it before. It’s childish, not the voice of the office’s most common human resident, but she’d heard it once before when the office had switched owners, on moving day…

“Mmghh… I can’t believe she expects me to tell the difference between all these dumb files… they all look the same,” the voice mutters-- and, with a start, Franziska realizes that it’s practically coming from right on top of her.

“...AM-2… AM-2… Mmm…”

The footsteps are drawing closer, closer-- they’re rounding the desk and--

Franziska’s heart stops.

Towering above her is a human girl adorned in lavender robes, a seemingly-endless cascade of black hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, and--

She can’t seem to breathe, much less move, even as their gazes lock-- gray on gray, a moment of silence between the two of them… and then…

The human’s eyes widen even as she leans in closer-- closer, she’s too close!-- and it finally jumpstarts Franziska’s heart into a deafening roar. She’s running for her life in a flash, ignoring the surprised yelp that comes from behind her. She’s frantically unraveling the grappling hook even as she flees-- if she can just--!

“W-wait!”

It’s not coming undone fast enough she’s getting too close to the ledge, she can’t--!

B r e a t h l e s s.

For what feels like the thousandth time tonight, a completely weightless sensation overtakes the young borrower, her stomach dropping and leaving her behind, leaving her alone, leaving her with… with…

...With the pressure around her body.

Her heart slams desperately against the cage of her chest even as she’s lifted up-- held in place by a human hand, a human hand like the ones Papa told her about, the ones that crushed borrowers in one squeeze, the ones that effortlessly tugged arms and legs free from their--!

She can’t help it.

Franziska begins to sob.

An incomprehensible string of words floods from her mouth even as she cries-- begging, pleading, shrieking, rage-- she doesn’t want to die. Not on her very first borrowing expedition. Not so young. Not like this.

(Papa--! Miles--! Please…!)

“I-- oh gosh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--!”

(…?)

The grip around her… at first, she thinks she’s imagining it as a final act of desperation, but no-- it’s loosening. Her stomach drops again as she’s hurriedly moved-- but this time, she’s being moved back down. 

Her feet touch the desk, and she’s left staring, stunned, at the massive, retreating hand that had so easily snatched her up.

Trembling. She’s trembling, but she’s alive, and those huge, gray eyes are peering down at her even still. But they don’t… they don’t seem malicious, no. Not the way Papa always described them. They’re big, compared to the human’s face-- a soft face, barely past the years of childhood, so very unlike Papa’s-- or even Miles’, these days.

Soft, like her own face. This human girl can’t be much older than she is, herself… and she looks almost just as ready to cry as Franziska is, too.

“I-I’m so sorry,” the human blurts out, clasping her hands together and covering her mouth worriedly. “I-I didn’t mean to scare you, I just thought you were about to-- to jump, and--!”

A little girl. A little girl like her.

“And-- and I’m… I’m…”

Franziska can only watch in what she could only describe as a ‘the world as I know it is crumbling around me’ sort of way.

“I’m so sorry, again-- are you okay…?”

Franziska blinks, even as the girl bites her thumb and nervously stares down at her.

Waiting for an answer. Conversing, like… like a borrower. Not trying to crush her to death or cage her like in the stories.

“I’m fine,” Franziska croaks numbly.

(I’m fine.

I’m alive.)

“Thank goodness!” The girl chirps, before sheepishly rubbing her arm. “I, um… Oh, I shouldn’t be rude, um… rude-er, I mean-- m-my name is Maya! Maya Fey! What’s… do you have a name, too?”

(Fey. That name sounds familiar…)

“Franziska,” she manages. And then, she finally straightens up, shakily adjusting the grappling hook and rope slung around her shoulder. “...Franziska von Karma.”

Maya blinks in surprise, lowering her clasped hands from her mouth ever so slightly. If she’d been expecting a response to her question, it certainly didn’t seem like it.

“Oh! U-um!”

She pauses once more before regaining traction, rocking back and forth on her heels and shooting the borrower before her a small smile.

“That’s… that’s a really neat name! It’s so fancy, like something out of a storybook!”

(...Fancy…?)

Franziska can feel her face heating up even as she bites her lip.

“W-well…”

She suddenly tenses up-- and so does Maya-- as a woman’s voice calls out in the distance.

“Maya! Do you need help finding it?”

“N-no!” Maya shouts back. Franziska winces, her hands immediately shooting up to clap over her ears. “Uh-- I’ve got it; just one sec, sis!”

Maya bites her lip, her gaze lingering on Franziska for a moment longer before shifting so she can peer up at the bookshelves. “...Yyyyyyyoouuuu wouldn’t happen to know how to find a case file, would you?”

Franziska winces at that. If she lets on that she does know how to sort through the files-- Papa liked to read through them sometimes-- then she’ll almost certainly be giving away the fact that she lives here… but…

Then again, if she doesn’t hurry to help, she’ll have another human to contend with.

“AM-2, was it?” Franziska prods, and upon getting a somewhat startled, somewhat hopeful, nod from Maya, she gives the shelves a quick once-over. Even at this distance, she’s quickly able to point directly at one of the case files. “It’s on the second shelf from the bottom, there.”

Maya’s eyes widen even as she stoops down to check-- and with a triumphant smile, she comes back up with a manila folder clutched in her hands. Much to Franziska’s pleasure, she can see the bright, bold label of ‘AM-2’ from her position on the desk.

“Thanks!” Maya chirps. And then she glances between Franziska, down to the floor, and back. “...Oh, um! Did you need help down, Franzy?”

(Franzy?)

She quickly shakes her head. As genuinely kind as the human seems, she does not want to experience being picked up again… that, and she still has an expedition to complete. And although Maya seems a bit disappointed for a second at Franziska’s response, she soon perks up.

“Will I see you again?”

Franziska… hesitates.

It should be an immediate ‘no’. A borrower shouldn’t be interacting with a human, period-- and she doubts that Papa won’t freak out if he finds out that his own daughter had been speaking to one… held, even.

...But… somehow, she can’t bring herself to shake her head again.

“Maybe,” she finally settles upon, the word stinging guiltily on her lips… though, with it comes a quick flutter of her heart. A flutter of some strange sort of thrill-- the thrill of danger, perhaps? The thrill of such a big secret…?

“Maya, if you can’t find it, you can just ask for help--”

“No, no! I got it, I’m coming!” Maya shouts. Then she pauses to bite her lip before shooting Franziska a small smile. “...Sorry, I really have to get going… my big sis is waiting outside. But I’ll try to see you again-- soon, hopefully!”

She moves to take a step away from the desk before a flash of inspiration flickers in her gaze. She then bows in Franziska’s direction-- a deep bow, starting from the waist. Her eye level dips to the level of the desk’s surface.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Madame von Karma. May the stars align for, um… for your health, and prosperity, and… uh…” she pauses before suddenly straightening up, clapping her hands together with a smile. “And for us to meet again in the coming seasons! Sorry, I haven’t exactly gotten that one down yet… but I’ll get it perfect by the next time I see you!”

Franziska blinks… and then, finally, despite herself-- a soft smile works its way onto her face.

“...Perfect, hm…? I… I look forward to hearing it next time, Ms. Fey.”

Even as Maya hastily waves and rushes out the office door-- switching the lights back off as an afterthought-- Franziska finds it hard to move from where she’s standing, that strange, warm feeling in her chest that had caused her to involuntarily smile like cotton, clogging up her thoughts.

After a few moments, though, Franziska swallows thickly and begins to gather what she needs from the desk-- she’s taken long enough, already, and she doesn’t want to worry Papa needlessly. Maybe she should grab a few extra rubber bands, too… that could, perhaps, make up for her lost time, even if the extra weight will be harder to carry...

Though, she remains blissfully unaware of the steel-gray eyes staring down at her from the very top of the bookshelves-- she’s too far away to hear the telltale rustle of fabric even as her observer clutches the cloth at his neck hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

[astral-shiro]

Pride Ingo (pringo) icons! Feel free to drop an ask in my inbox if you’d like me to make any more specific ones or combos, and I’ll add them in reblogs :D

gay/pride   -   ace aroace   -   oriented aroace bi   -   mlm

[sketchz]

the skrunkly

[theswedishpajas]

I’ve been making some choices in-game for the sake of accuracy to me irl, but they’ve started to catch up with me mentally ✌️✌️✌️

We’re working on it though, just gotta keep at it and learn how to stop myself more in the future 😤

[emmodii-mode]

Just finished my first playthrough of BG3. Romanced Lae'zel, but ending up turning into an Illithid because the idea of making Orpheus or Karlach do it didn't sit well with me (or my character).

I told Lae'zel to leave with Orpheus in the end (I heard she wouldn't stay with a ghaik anyway, which she's valid for, but also, it doesn't feel right to ask her to stay when I know how much her people mean to her). And like-

Her face before she flies off---

She looks so heartbroken and sad.

[bigsnaff]

So there's a batch of fractal survivors from Skywatch Archipelago inside the Wizard's Tower.

If you talk to the rift hunter standing next to them, she says this

The absolute irony of saying "you're good people" to the organization that is the direct cause of their situation is hilarious to me.

[lanaevyssmoved]

Afhiri is literally so cute and you did such a good job with making them fleshed out and interesting!!

I'm sorry if you've posted about this before but!! I would like to know her relationship with lae'zel, if there is any!

IVE BEEN HAVING SUCH A HARD TIME ANSWERING THIS BECAUSE LIKE.

i always had them down as like. Surprisingly close friends. afhiri listens when lae'zel talks, often lets lae'zel take the lead and make decisions for her, if lae says do something afhiri might tease not doing it but will ultimately fold and submit, this makes them work well because afhiri doesn't challenge lae at all beyond being a lil silly and stupid sometimes....

whenever lae has more gentle and vulnerable moments afhiri is a good friend and will try to make her laugh which snaps lae out of it and genuinely helps or will just sit there quietly not try to give advice but just be there. it is good. it works

but the other day a friend of mine theorised afhiri lae ... Girlfriends . and i've been thinking about it A LOT. and i really like the idea of it ...... especially as someone who ships lae'zel and gale A LOT... maybe they're a polycule yknow. like. do u see my vision

[friendofthecrows]

I miss that brief golden era from like 2012 to 2016 when the online witchcraft community was actually good and full of open minded people looking to learn more and share what they know plus maybe the occasional vampire middle schooler instead of the situation now where it's been taken over by capitalist tiktok transphobes who like to come up with ways to shift to hogwarts via their inherent magical vagina powers and then sell coated quartz to cure cancer instead of seeing doctors.

[burnt-basement-bunny]

@behindslaughter

William sleeps rarely. His body doesn't seem to need it provided he recharges often enough, and the complete loss of awareness of his surroundings is something he'd prefer to avoid. That, and the issue of just where he'll wake up. If someone's going to end his life, he wants to see it coming.

But on occasion, the urge becomes too overwhelming to resist. William is so very tired, and no one's tried to kill him recently. He could manage a few hours, surely...

The first thing he recognizes is the floor. He can't forget the floor. He was right. His paranoia was right. He's back and he has-

His body is wrong. The familiar nightmare of flesh and steel (mostly steel) is still his. He is not frail. He is not weak. Then there must be something else going on.

Find the office. That's the center of things, and that's where the answers must lie. As William approaches the door, he spots someone already inside. And the fellow looks just a tiny bit like...him. When he was alive. Not identical, and he'd be hard-pressed to point out what exactly they have in common, but something about that stranger is more familiar than he should be.

"I'm not going to kill you." That should decrease the chance of having the door closed on him at least a little. "What are you doing here?"

[thesilverlock]

First of all, Jey's dad looks gorgeous???

And that's why I have to get deeper into the lore, since he's the bringer of balance, what is his relationship with Eliphas and Don Thousand 👀👀

Does he look down them for their "silly" mistakes? Does he see them as his equal?? Would he have banter with them??

Aaaa thank you so, so much! 🥹 That means a bunch, and I always super appreciate and love when ppl send me asks (even if I can be a little slow to answering them❤️‍🩹)

I haven’t gone back to rework the “Prologue” stuff in awhile, but I do have plenty of old and initial concept stuff regarding it! Gsdhjk It’s just not very shiny or updated per se ;v;

Basically, there was a point where Astral World was governed by three ‘artificial’ and powerful Guardians, each whom represented a different facet of life/energy.

Don Thousand (he had a different name at the time though), the “Soul” of Astral World, who governed the understanding of Chaos.

Protos, the “Heart” of Astral World, who governed the search and maintaining of Balance.

And, most recent to the group...

Eliphas. “Will” of the Astral World. Pursuer of Order and ideals of Ranking-Up.

Before Eliphas came along, Don and Protos got along swimmingly, and there was still a period of peace even after Eliphas’ creation and addition to the guardians. Protos considered them like his close friends. However, Eliphas and Don Thousand would butt heads a lot due to their polarizing views and ideals and pursuits etc, regarding chaos specifically. Protos did his best to keep the peace between them, but something was clearly escalating...

This is a near-incomprehensible pile of stuff relating to Protos’ design and place amongst the other two agshjk As for a gist of more the proper lore, here’s one of the initial plot breakdowns for pretty much what happened pre-canon in Astral World 🩵

Again, it’s rather dated, but I think most of it does still hold up to at least give a fair idea what occurred and what I was going for with all the pre-ZeXal context! ;v;

[astraldragons]

Word count: 592

Rating: G

Summary: Therion's mornings have changed quite a bit since meeting the other travelers.

(Written for the Orsterra’s Tavern server’s found family/QPR competition!)

[gtanddragons]

Posting yet another old drabble I wrote a couple years ago, this one is also from my old Shifter!Apollo AU. ^^ I had the idea that Klavier and Apollo were investigating a decrepit building when it suddenly collapsed, forcing Apollo to shift up larger than he’s ever been before. >v> Maybe one of these days I’ll actually be able to combine my ideas into a cohesive fic, but for now, y’all get a snippet from the old patchwork quilt of ideas.

---

His entire body is tensed up, aching where rubble had fallen and left bruises and scratches behind. 

Apollo winces and lifts his head from where it’d been tucked in— his ears are ringing, even now, despite the dead, almost-eerie silence in the air. Every movement shakes off a little more rubble at a time, every movement a painful, yet somewhat relieving, reminder that he’d somehow survived an entire building crashing down on him. 

He wearily blinks, slowly beginning to register movement against his chest— impossibly tiny movements, squirming and struggling— 

...Oh. Right. His grip loosens, giving the small figure clutched tightly to his chest a little more room to move. 

“—ce! Herr Justice! Are you alright?!” 

Apollo slowly blinks, continuing to process where he is— curled up on his side with his knees drawn almost to his chest, Prosecutor Gavin held protectively in his hands— and whether or not he is, in fact, alright. 

He’s not too sure about that last one. 

But as he adjusts, shifting his hands so that Klavier is free to step out of his grasp and to the ground, he pushes an exhausted attempt at a smile, anyway. “‘M fine,” he croaks. “‘P-Pollo... Justice is. Fine.” 

It’s weak— he probably inhaled too much dust and debris to use his infamous Chords of Steel for a while— but nevertheless, it makes him feel a little better. Klavier, on the other hand, doesn’t look so convinced. The prosecutor pauses before tentatively reaching a hand up and settling it on Apollo’s cheek. 

Such a small, delicate touch. It dully registers in the back of Apollo’s head that he’d never shifted up anywhere near this tall before— fifteen feet at the most, maybe almost twenty— but now, Klavier looks so... so small. No taller than Apollo’s thumb— and Apollo hadn’t even meant to shift up this much. Didn’t know how he’d managed it, couldn’t explain it aside from a rush of adrenaline and fear.

“You… you saved my life,” Klavier manages. There’s a tinge of disbelief to his tone. “I... Thank you.” 

“Mmmmnnno prob,” Apollo mumbles, unable to resist the heaviness in his eyelids. The adrenaline from earlier was starting to wear off, making way for sheer exhaustion, and with it— 

He’s not controlling it, but surely, steadily, he’s starting to shift back down. It doesn’t stop when his eyes are both level with a rather surprised Klavier, or even when the man is now standing over him, both of them at a perfectly normal human height. 

No, he doesn’t stop shifting down and he’s almost... almost afraid it won’t stop— until finally, finally, the shifting eases away. And for once, as he notices that Klavier’s polished-black shoes are taking up his entire line of sight— and even as he tiredly watches those all-too-familiar hands reach for him, lifting him up as easily as though he were a feather— he doesn’t feel a single bit of the usual anxiety. 

Chalk it up to his own exhaustion, maybe, or perhaps for another, more sentimental reason— but he doesn’t feel like protesting being at Prosecutor Gavin’s mercy. Doesn’t resist even as he’s checked for injuries, his shirt ever-so-gently pushed up by a careful fingertip, doesn’t mind the low rumble of Klavier’s voice— he’s frantically mumbling to himself in a slew of German that Apollo couldn’t hope to understand even if he were fully conscious— and... The man’s thumb lingers against his cheek. Apollo closes his eyes entirely, leaning into the warm, gentle touch.

 ...He finds that he certainly doesn’t mind that, especially.

Maybe he’d care later. Maybe he’d throw a fit about having his personal space invaded by those gentle hands later, or object to being tucked into the warm crook of the rockstar’s neck, blanketed by a hand and listening to the soothing drum of Klavier’s pulse, rocked back and forth by the man’s hurried steps away from the ruins of the building they’d been investigating. 

But for now, as he drifts off into a deep, contented sleep— grateful that he’d managed to save the comforting, currently-towering presence around him— he doubts that there’s any place he would rather be.

[astral-shiro]

Happy pride I'm gonna make more of these at some point so feel free to send suggestions they'll just sit in an inbox for a few days until I get these 13 workdays over and done with

[ener-chi]

.