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tgrailwar · 2 years

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Tumblr Holy Grail War, Another End: Night 1 (ALL SERVANTS)

Team Foreigner got Van Gogh's composure to 0! Something is happening!

Laughter.

Echoing laugher. Triumphant laughter. The laughter of a Servant who had lost everything. The laughter of a Servant who had gained everything.

Van Gogh. A patchwork Servant from beyond the void. Laughed.

VAN GOGH: "Ah... my deception ends here. Look upon 'Van Gogh'... the false Servant named Van Gogh... isn't it horrible? Isn't it beautiful? Ahaha... AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

A pulse emanating from the Servant shattered the bounds of the digital landscape that had been called 'reality'. This was the power of the Foreigner-class. The true power of the Foreigner-class, when deprived of the chains of 'logic' that bound it.

Six other Servants were hit by the pulse, the world around them collapsing, throwing them into hell. Havoc overwhelming. Chaos overflowing. A wave of utter madness, grabbing the minds of the enemy Servants and rending them asunder.

First, the Assassin.

Assassin: "...Where the hell am I... what the hell is that?!"

The Assassin drew his sword, uncharacteristic fear filling his mind and body. A shadow formed, vaguely in the shape of a Servant, unsettlingly enough. It lunged forward, as he stepped back, trying to defend himself as more shadows appeared.

Shadows from his peripheral, shadows that he couldn't see but hear, shadows that he couldn't hear but see.

Shadows that weren't real.

Shadows that were far too real.

Then, the Rider.

Rider: "Back off! Get away from me!"

He yelled, trying to add as much authority as he could as the false illusions patched together by real madness inched closer.

Archer: "...You're not real! You're an illusion, like Caster's Noble Phantasm!"

He yelled, as he tried to lie to himself, fingers rending at the stark white of his clothing, causing it to dye red. His own fingertips rent asunder as the skin on them began to wear down and redden as he scratched and screamed at nothing.

Saber: "Come at me! I'll cut you to pieces!"

She yelled, her sword swiping forward. It drew blood, before she screamed, clutching at her own shoulder as it bled profusely as it was struck in an identical spot.

Lancer: "Heh. You think you're cute, huh? We'll see how cute you think you are when this spear goes right through you!"

...An alliance, formerly airtight, splintered in seconds by the maddened wave of the unleashed Foreigner. Their identities began to crumble, as they engaged in bloody warfare.

Only two Servants stood in the wave unaffected. Perhaps both of them had already reached the crux of their madness to begin with, or perhaps they had already witnessed hell, and so this void was nothing but a reprieve.

Tortured Youth: "...So this is what you can do, Foreigner? I hope you're not plannin' on killin' me like the others?"

Patchwork Servant: "Ehehehe! Play with me, Avenger! Spin with me! Dance with me! Sing with me! Paint with me! Create with me! Don't mind the pain! Thrash and scream! Let's kill each other, and use our blood to repaint the world!"

Tortured Youth: "...Thought so. And here I wasted that mana boosting you up. Well, that's just my luck. Whatever, this little game sounds like fun either way. Let's play, Foreigner!"

EVENT: [ VOID SPACE ARMAGEDDON ]

Reality itself began to unravel, already thin threads snapping apart under the pressure of the Foreigner-class Servant!

Team Foreigner got Van Gogh's composure to 0! Team Foreigner used 'Wave of Madness'! With Van Gogh's composure at 0, she temporarily gains access to all of her skills until the battle ends!

Alliances are temporarily severed within Void Space! It's utter chaos! This is a battle for survival!

If Van Gogh wins first place, she'll inflict 2 wounds on every Servant!

If Van Gogh doesn't get first, then any Servant that scores under Van Gogh will sustain 1 wound!

Any non-Foreigner-class Servant that ends up in last place will sustain 3 wounds and be destroyed instantly!

Any non-Foreigner-class Servant that ends up above Van Gogh will be safe!

If Van Gogh gets last place, she'll sustain 3 wounds, but will lash out and inflict 1 wound on every Servant! if she gets anything other than 1st, she'll simply sustain 1 wound!

Skills such as 'Battle Continuation' or 'Independent Action' are nullified! Servants who perish in Void Space are gone!

Van Gogh's 'Wave of Madness' gives every other Servant a -10% demerit! …Angra Mainyu's been spared from the demerit?!

Angra Mainyu gave Van Gogh a +5% boost!

Musashi and Arjuna have been cursed by 'Soul of the Water Channels'! They have a -3% demerit for this round! This will stack with the current application of 'Soul of the Water Channels', meaning Musashi and Arjuna have -6%, and the others have -3%!

Final Score Augmentations:

Van Gogh: +41% Angra Mainyu: -40% Miyamoto Musashi: -29% Mandricardo: -36% Okada Izou: -36% Cu Chulainn: -21% Arjuna: -39%

Active Servant Skills and Current Statuses:

Van Gogh (Foreigner):

Het Gele Huis (A+) - When winning first place in a Free-for-All, inflict 2 wounds on the bottom Servant, rather than just one. If engaged in a one-on-one, inflict 2 wounds instead of one upon victory. Additionally, reduce Servant bonuses by 10%, and if the gap between scores is greater than 35% when winning, recover from a 'wound'.

Soul of the Water Channels (EX) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain a +10% boost, and inflict a persistent 3% demerit on enemy Servants for this round and the next. When fighting one-on-one, gain a +5% boost, and inflict a -2% demerit to them for this round and the next.

Void Space Fine Arts (B+) - If receiving a demerit from enemies larger than 10%, convert it into a +10% boost. Gain a +5% boost, and add another +3% if going against a Servant who has been cursed by the demerit from 'Soul of the Water Channels'. Gain the ability to sustain one more wound than normal.

Existence Outside the Domain (A) - Gain an immunity from demerits, and also reduce enemy Servant boosts by 5%.

Insanity (C) - Gain a +5% boost.

Item Construction (B-) - Lower the victory gap for the 'recovery effect' of "Het Gule Huis" from 35% to 25%.

Divinity (B+) - Lower enemy boosts by -5%, and increase own buffs by 3%.

Curse of Sunflower (A) - When on her final wound, gain a +7% boost.

Van Gogh has [2/7] wounds!

Angra Mainyu (Avenger)

Zarich: Right Fang Grinder (C) - Reduce enemy Servant boosts by -3%.

Tawrich: Left Fang Grinder (C) - Gain a +3% attack boost.

Annihilation Wish (A) - When fully healed, gain a -20% demerit to his final score. With one wound, the demerit is reduced to -10%. With two wounds, the demerit is changed to a +20% boost.

Grail Curse, All The World's Evils (EX) - When part of a battle that results in a Servant dying, absorb a part of their essence. Take a random one of their combat skills for Avenger's own use and recover one Command Spell. Those are the only effects. ...Probably.

Angra Mainyu is uninjured!

Miyamoto Musashi (Saber)

Heavenly Demonic Thundering Eye (EX) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain +10% to your final score, and reduce their scores by -5%. If fighting a Servant one-on-one, if the gap between scores is above 20%, inflict 2 wounds.

Battle Continuation (EX) - If she loses a confrontation while on her final wound, if there's only a 10% difference between the scores of her and her opponent (non-allied Servant), she can slip out unscathed.

Musashi is on her last wound! 'Battle Continuation EX' is nullified within Void Space!

Mandricardo (Rider)

Brigliadoro's Neigh (A) - Increases the Rider-class trait to +5% rather than +3% in free-for-all brawls.

Armor of the Nine Worthies (A) - When attacked, reduces the amount of the Servant's final combat poll result by 10%.

Mandricardo has [1/3] wounds!

Okada Izou (Assassin)

Man-Slayer (A) - When fighting a Servant that possesses a wound, gain a +3% boost. When fighting a Servant that possesses 2 wounds, gain +5% instead.

Izou has [1/3] wounds!

Cu Chulainn (Lancer)

Rune Magecraft (B) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain a +5% to combat score results. Additionally, any skills that reduce scores against Lancer will have their effectiveness reduced by 1%.

Battle Continuation (A) - Is able to take 4 'wounds' instead of the normal 3. On his last ‘wound’, gain a permanent +5% boost to final combat poll results.

Protection from Arrows (B) - When going against an Archer, Caster or Assassin-class Servant, gain a +5% to final combat poll results, and reduce their results by 5% as well.

Cu Chulainn has [2/4] wounds!

Arjuna (Archer)

Hero of the Endowed (A) - If fighting an enemy Servant, and the difference between scores is within 3%, take the win.

Mana Burst (Flame) (A) - Gain a +8% boost to combat poll results when attacked during 'playing defensively', rather than +3%. When not ‘playing defensively’, gains a 5% boost to final combat poll results instead.

Independent Action (A) - After receiving his third 'wound', he has one more round to attempt to attack before fading away. (Cannot be healed during this period via Command Spell).

Arjuna is on his final wound! Independent Action is nullified by Void Space!

#tgw: another end #team foreigner #team avenger #team saber #team rider #team lancer #team archer #team assassin #thgw story

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sylvia-songbird · 1 year

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~Escapism~ (a q!Philza & q!Mumza fic)

UPDATE: NOW ON AO3 WOOO!!

I haven't posted anything like this on tumblr before, and it's been ten years since I posted any fics at all...enjoy! (this may also be a part 1 to something longer...depends on how much time I can devote to writing it)

(for extra oomph listen to either Echo in the Wind from the Minecraft 1.20 Soundtrack or Escapism from Steven Universe while reading)

~~~~~

On the first night Philza spent in the birdhouse, he couldn’t help but stay awake. The Federation had taken other members before, but he knew that he couldn’t fall victim to the same fate as Quackity, Forever, or any other person they've kidnapped before. As long as he stayed awake, they couldn’t hurt him. As long as he was conscious, they wouldn’t force medicine down his gullet. As long as he didn’t shut his eyes, he could hold onto some kind of hope that someone would be able to find him.

As long as he was awake, his actions would haunt him. He never thought that he could be fooled so easily because his missing eggs - his children - were used against him as punishment for wanting answers, as any parent would want. He had made sure not to leave any clues behind that would suggest his disappearance. Most of his belongings were neatly put away in a secured chest locked away in his basement, where no one could access them. Who would ever figure out that the wise crow that lives in the wall is gone?

Here’s the thing about sleep - it doesn’t matter who or what you are. Whether egg or bird, human or hybrid…all succumb to sleep at some point. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that even Philza, the famed Angel of Death for all of his vigilance, would drift asleep in his cage.

The dreams bring a reprieve…at first.

~~~~~ He’s with Chayanne and Tallulah, gearing up to fly off of the wall to do some exploring on the island. They glide until they reach the coast, piling into the speedboat to glide along the waters under a starry night sky. They dock at the beach, not far from a desert village. A familiar terrifying scene plays out, with his children’s last breaths in his arms under the stars, a familiar Nightmare. This time, he doesn’t wake up immediately. As the life leaves his children, Philza bleeds out on that beach, the Nightmare still on the hunt for any innocent souls that cross its path as his vision fades.

When Philza opens his eyes again, he’s back at the birdhouse. A familiar, automated laugh echoes through the space, as the other birds huddle together in the rafters. The face of Cucurucho appears in front of him, threatening to seal him away again. Philza screams, trying to reach for that stitched-together bear to get answers, to get anything out of him. Swinging a punch at its face, his fist passes through mist.

It’s taunting him with visions of Chayanne and Tallulah, seeing them run from something inside of the maze Phil and the others found just a few days ago. A slash of a weapon, and their corpses fall to the ground. He runs to catch their bodies, but they shatter on the ground like glass statues…like fragile eggs in need of protection. The pieces cut up his hands, golden ichor and maroon bleeding down his clenched fists. As fear and anger fill his veins, a flash of white erases the entire scene in front of him.

~~~~~ Before Philza is the Void. Or at least, what appears to be the Void in all but name. He knows the Void well, remembering its sting and endless darkness from before he had earned his wings. He knows how it feels to glide in the space between the bottom of the world and the Void, surfing past death’s grasp from one piece of bedrock to the next. There are no galaxies in the Void, no asteroids, no luminescence that would help guide his way home.

Here there are glimmering stars and traces of auroras that shine around him like the midnight sky. Except these auroras stay in similar places, flickering in the wind like gossamer. When Philza looks up, he sees the nebulous vision of a Goddess, reaching out towards him. There is something familiar about that sad smile upon her face, but he just can’t place it.

“My angel…what have they done to you?”

~~~~

Philza wakes up in a corner of the birdhouse, Chayanne’s floaty and Tallulah’s beanie somehow in his grasp. He vividly remembers the nightmares from his sleep, but what happened at the end? Who was that woman? Was her dress actually made from the auroras and nebulas that fill the midnight sky?

Her words to him have melted away as the sun burns through the morning fog.

Philza has boundless amounts of time to wonder about these things, but the anger he feels towards The Federation and the fear of his family being in danger spurs him to try to find a way out of this cage, leaving those thoughts about the nebulous woman behind.

#qsmp #q!philza #qsmp philza #q!mumza #a cage for a cage #q philza #i haven't written in ten years and i come back SWINGING #anyways i might write more because q!philza brainrot go brrrrr #who am i kidding i'm already writing more and might post it on ao3

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kyeterna · 1 year

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OC-tober day 6 prompt: symbol

Featuring Rena Star Team (again) (I do not have a bias wdym) in a short animatic ("I am not an animator", I tell myself. "I hate animating" I scream into the void. Yet all my half assed animated projects look at me disapprovingly) showcasing the stuff I associate her with.

Of legacies, sins, desires and herecies. Time can only move forward. The young girl knew that better than anyone. But a Chronidi can only strive to make the impossible, possible. Stubborness runs in the family.

All thr Star Team characters have a lot of care put into their symbolisms. And of course Rena is no exception. For this animatic I have chosen 5 symbols, which can all capture a different period in her life.

First: The Chronidi family insignia

The ruling families in Onero island all have an insignia representing them. Chronidi, being one of the founding families, used to be one. Well most of them are still, however that is no longer the case for the branch Rena comes from. Her grandmother, choosing to marry a commoner, was effectively disowned, yet she still brandished the family insignia. Was it a form of protest? Out of spite? Nobility or not, the expectations for all memberts of the "disgraced" branch were high. Throughout her life, especially in early childhood, Rena had been living in the shadow of the high expectations of her family. In the shadow of the beloved matriarch. The insignia serving as both a sign of pride and a curse.

Second: Roses

Rena loves roses. Everyone knows what a rose is. Everyone likes roses. But roses are no one's favourite flower. If they say it is, it's because they don't know the names of other much prettier flowers. People also tend to forget that roses are not just the blossom, but the bush and the thorns as well. No one likes roses in their totality, just the pretty part. But thorns are as much part of the rose as the blossom is.

Rena understands why roses have thorns. She finds comfort in their sting.

In her pre-teen and early teen years, Rena was able to escape briefly her family's critical gaze through school. "Surrounded by mediocrity even the mediocre can shine as exceptional". "Family's disappointment" when surrounded by talented people "Exceptional talent" when surrounded by mediocrity. Everyone likes roses, but there's nothing special about them. Liked but not genuinely loved. Those who attempt to get stung by thorns. Rena finds comfort in it, but Nora did not.

Third: Deer

There is not much "depth" in this one. I just associate every star team character with an animal. Nora's is a bunny, Maya's is a cat. Rena's is a deer.

Rena's young adulthood was the most stable her life had ever felt. Which says a lot as those 4 years in Toxi were hectic to say the least. Always running, but never truly free. Always pursued by her past.

Fourth: The Sun

The Saint of Fools

The sun rests as a halo behind the Chosen One's head.

"She is like the sun. Brilliant, warm and nurturing, yet also capable of hurt. Sometimes looking at her burnt my eyes"

"But there's nothing significant about the sun compared to the rest of the stars. The only reason it drowns out their light during the morning is its proximity to the earth. There are stars out there that shine brighter than the sun ever will. Much more brilliant. So much more potential. I envy them"

Nora, Rena's first and only friend, is the stars

Fifth: grandfather clock

A presence throughout her life, the physical object existed during her stay at school. A clock without hands, yet its ticking echoing forever. No matter how much she tried slowing it down, it can never be reversed. Time can only move forward. The young girl knew that better than anyone. But a Chronidi can only strive to make the impossible, possible. Stubborness runs in the family.

From bweirdart's OC-tober prompt:

While I am doing this challenge mostly to keep an archive of my characters on tumblr (and to incentivise myself to draw them), if you, person stumbling upon this post, are curious and wanna learn more, my askbox is open >:3c

#oc-tober #bweirdOCtober #kyeterna oc #starteam comic #st: rena #GUYS PLEASE ask me stuff about rena I can speak for hours for my dysfunctional blorbo <3

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ashyronfire · 10 months

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Consequences || Chapter 03: All Your Love Will Be Exorcised

Title: 03 - All Your Love Will Be Exorcised Rating: M Characters: Grimm, The Pale King Warnings: Disturbing Content, Horror, Gore, Unreliable Narrator, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Read On Ao3: Beginning || Current Chapter

Summary:

Live as we lived. Suffer as we suffered. Die as we died. Over and over again, until you understand.

Author’s Notes: I think tumblr is just doomed to be perpetually a week behind Ao3, sorry Tumblr

CHAPTER 03: ALL YOUR LOVE WILL BE EXORCISED

Reverberating echoes danced through the cavernous walls, and the horrible, high-pitched screech that they bore cut through the Pale King to his core. He’d heard it before. He’d heard it more than once. Though his dreams were untouchable by she who ruled them, he could hear her screams even long after he’d had her sealed, and eventually the sound of them became something resonating with the vessel in which she was housed. Where hers had a melody like a song, its was a cracking, broken, nuanced thing, more voices than one should have held, and it haunted him. It’d chased him through his palace, chased him to waking, chased him to death, and the endless falling purgatory of darkness gave him no reprieve. He knew the sound.

It was not his voice.

Fate saw fit to give him one with which to scream, but it was hers, it was hers, it was only hers.

He’d favored telepathy in life, and that, too, was denied to him. Not that he’d tried with Grimm, but he knew just the same that he was no longer allowed such methods of communication. The instruction of the void was clear:

Live as we lived.

Suffer as we suffered.

Die as we died.

Over and over again, until you understand.

And then let it continue, until you plead for absolution and have it be denied to you.

Then and only then will you understand the meaning of your mantra: No voice to cry suffering.

The Pale King fell lax, collapsing into himself, his head bowing. He felt scarlet eyes boring into him, staring him down with an intensity of recognition, and he wondered how much Grimm truly understood about what was happening to him. His claws drew up to his face, scraping at decaying flesh, and he heard a dark chuckle. Satisfaction. Whether he knew in advance or not, he was certainly pleased with the development. The growl that settled in the wyrm’s throat was low.

“How it must chafe, that you speak with her tongue. That your promises of an idyllic future, of a kingdom untouched by death, find themselves graced by her honeyed words.” Claws settled on his jaw, Grimm forcing him to look up again, and the butterfly smiled. Teeth stretched too far, in a maw that did not fit on his face, jagged and interlocking. “Forever and ever, until death do you part.”

He rose to his feet, that awful visage of scarlet-and-black, of wings too long and eyes too bright, and then he turned to regard the rest of the climb.

“Still, I must amend my earlier assessment. You have words after all. It is your voice that has been taken from you.” Grimm put one claw on his mask and chuckled. For a moment, the Pale King thought that he saw a flicker of something behind that white fabrication of bone – something sinuous and undulating, not entirely different from the burrowing little pests that he still felt within his shell. “Are you quite done with your tantrum?”

Tantrum.

He called it a tantrum.

The Pale King raked his lower claws against the stone to a screech, gouging jagged and unpleasant lines under their edges. He uncurled himself, shifting, his tail slamming the ground behind him in his disdain, and his head inclined toward Grimm.

He did not want to speak. It would be her voice, and to speak with that felt more like an insult even than the scream had been.

And Grimm knew it.

His words, his countenance, his candor – he was fully aware that though the Pale King did possess a voice, it was not one he would use willingly. It would continue to be a one-sided conversation, with him having to endure barbed commentary from the pest, unable to properly address the judgment that he saw in those scarlet eyes, and the impotence of his position was infuriating.

A punishment to fit his crimes – but they were crimes that he’d had no choice in committing, the wyrm would have argued to that faceless darkness, and his pleas would continue to go ignored.

It cared not for his defenses. He’d learned that very early on.

Grimm, ignoring his obvious tension in favor of his own agenda, reiterated, “Climb. I will see you at the top.”

The butterfly made to leave, and he held out one claw in desperation.

He could not physically make it.

He could not make the climb.

And the Nightmare King knew it.

Grimm knew that he could not make the climb and was forcing him to try. He knew, then, the symbolism of what he’d demanded, and he’d done it regardless. No. He’d done it because of that symbolism. There were tram stations (that led to the archaic cemetery of the moths – would that somehow have been better?), there were stags – there were innumerable other, better options than this, and yet…

Did he think himself clever, the butterfly?

Begrudgingly, the Pale King could admit that it was. What he did not understand was the motivation. Grimm held no love for Hallownest and had known nothing of the vessel plan. It was not his counterpart’s interests that he was acting upon, for if it was, it would not have been climbing that he chose.

And yet it was an insurmountable wall laden with spikes and jutting out, broken woods that splintered. It was a cliff face and the distant sound of dripping water from Isma’s Grove. If he screamed, would Ogrim hear him, his champion that yet lived? Could he bear the weight of being seen in his current state?

He could not make the climb, his mind reiterated. He kept his hand outstretched toward Grimm, who looked back at him with an uncomfortable silence. The butterfly knew that he was ill-equipped for this demand, knew that he could not meet this task, and he was…

…making him ask.

Making him beg for help.

Help that he was not even sure would be given, with a voice that was forced upon him against his will.

His hand fell away. He looked back at the wall, considering. If he could make it higher… if he could just reach where it was wood, he could use his claws to drag himself upward by force. He’d scaled trees that way when he was still small enough to be as prey to larger wyrms and other predatory creatures in the wastes. Always had he been small, always had he been perceived as weak, and always had he persevered. If he could survive in such circumstances, a mere wall posed no obstacle to him.

Far worse was the thought of being rebuffed for his troubles, being cast aside, being laughed at again by a creature whose entire existence was dependent upon devouring the creations of others.

Determination settled within, twisting a knife in his guts, and though it burned, though it seared, though he ached – he tucked his claws into the surface of the rockface and he pulled himself up. His tail twisted underneath him and, with spite-fueled rejuvenation, he hauled himself upward. Chitin cracked, the sound loud in the darkness. He did not hear the tell-tale shuffle of fabric-like wings, of Grimm following him, but he dared not look down lest he lose his purchase. His shell splintered downward, discolored hemolymph sliding warm, wet trails down each arm.

Up.

He felt plating roll back, twisting unnaturally as if it were leaves. He felt the remnants of his wings twist, break, and tumble downward. Fluid, like trying to molt, the pieces of his body peeled away, and the pain seeped deep enough to become a numb, tingling sensation with interwoven searing sensations.

The wooden planks loomed above, promising rest.

He reached one hand out toward them and the stone beneath his claws fractured. Fear like a vice seized his heart as it dropped down through his chest, into his stomach, and he froze.

Assess. Analyze. Determine. He could make it. If he managed to reach the hardwood, he would be rid of the unsteady surfaces.

Grimm still had not moved. Or, if he had, he hadn’t made a sound in his ascent – but the Pale King was quite certain that, mocking specter that he was, the butterfly was still right where he’d been when the wyrm began to climb, watching the spectacle with all the fascination of the carrion creature he so mimicked – waiting, hoping, for him to fail.

Another tentative, shaky movement, and the rocks he’d been clinging to only moments before went tumbling down. He heard them clatter on the ledge he’d stopped on and in the back of his throat, he felt dusty wings all over again. Had he any shell left? He would check when – when –

He reached the wooden divider. Atop it was a mouth of spikes, glistening silver, and more still jutted out like sawblades. For the moment, he ignored them, using the lip to settle himself, and there he stopped to look his injuries over.

He found none.

Despite the symphonic snapping of shell as he’d gone upward, there were no new signs of necrosis, nor was there any of the blood that he’d felt certain was covering each limb. As he stared at his claws, though, he heard the phantom sound of small wings attempting to glide; he heard the singing of nails colliding into one another; he heard weeping and his daughter’s voice, words obscured by distance.

“Not her,” the Pale King hissed. The words came out scratchier for his damaged throat, the voice alien enough to make him want to rip his own neck apart, and yet the fierce intensity of their meaning lingered. “Not her. You may use all you wish as weapon in your goals, Grimm – all else, save her.”

Then it came: the laughter he’d expected from the onset, raucous from below. Essence strings danced around him as Grimm shot through the air, to float as though weightless directly beside him. The Nightmare King settled his hands at the small of his back, macabre smile on his face, leaning forward to crane his back at an angle no natural bug ought to have been able to accomplish, before purring.

“Whatever you think that I have done, wyrm, I assure you… it is not I who haunts you.”

“Liar,” the wyrm countered, crawling forward. His hands hooked on the edge of the platform, and he pulled himself up onto the top. Once, that narrow passage would have worked as a pulley system to allow the exchange of waste from different regions into the Royal Waterways and later into the junkpit. That plan had been scrapped when one too many worker had mysteriously disappeared, likely at the maw of the flukes.

Someone had added the extra… teeth to the equation. He would have attributed it to the Beast if it were lower in the chasm. Such things were not out of the realm of possibility for her.

She was dead now.

They were all dead now.

“Am I? Of the two of us, who has told more? I, who usher in the sweet end of days with merriment and festivity… or you, who promise things that you cannot hope to ever truly deliver?”

Grimm edged backwards, allowing him more room, and he responded by shoving his claws deep into the wood to scramble his way upward. As predicted, as soon as he’d gotten through the widest part of the cavern, the climb became easier, and he ignored the butterfly to make his way higher still.

There was no point arguing. To do so was to admit that Grimm was right, and though he was loathe to acknowledge it, he could find little fault in the argument. The best defense he had was that the Nightmare King’s counterpart built her entire empire on lies, too, and was he not made of the same fabric that had birthed her? Had he not been born of fragmented pieces of what she once was? Her scraps, discarded, that hadn’t thought to die, but instead chose to rise like a lich?

They were more alike than ever, it seemed.

They were going to be let out at the capital, Grimm had said.

They were going to be let out near the Watcher’s Spire.

Lurien.

Thinking of the moth made his chest tighten, breathing sparse. His maw parted to give himself more air as he forced himself higher. Each gulp tightened in his throat, rotted the tissue, reminded him of his disheveled state, and in the back of his mind, he remembered.

Remembered Lurien’s voice.

Remembered his trepidation about the vessel plan altogether.

Remembered the open way that he’d mourned when he’d first met the Pure Vessel, whispering, ‘It is but a child, sire,’ as if the proclamation could change his fate.

Love for Hallownest sent him into the dream as a seal. Love for Hallownest and blind, unwavering faith in his king, to see it through.

Lurien was dead and his spire, his final resting place, was his tomb. Visiting it at all, even in passing, felt like a desecration. The Pale King longed to apologize to him – to find him, to whisper that it was not all for naught, even though it was a lie. Would he have changed anything if he had the ability to turn back the hands of time? What would he have done differently? …nothing. Nothing at all.

Helplessness was bitter.

From one ledge to another, he had to leap, the strain physical and demanding. He bled. He ached. He climbed through it all, interlocked fangs grinding into one another to keep from grunting his frustration.

Eventually, he reached the top.

Grimm had flown up ahead of him and was leaning against pillars that acted as foundation for the city. Stone wrought and carved with deft claws, they helped maintain the structural integrity of the winding corridors even through the impressive weight of structures high above.

What good did they serve now, when all were dead?

He collapsed on the landing platform and ignored the lingering stare on his fallen form. His claws raked down his face as if that would somehow rectify the shooting pains that twisted through his shell, pulled on the muscles below; as if it would somehow correct the nausea welling in his belly, despite there being nothing left inside of him to come out. Except for tiny little parasites that his mind insisted were there – that he did not know the truth of, one way or another.

His heart beat a steady melody within his chest that he felt certain fell in perfect harmony with the screams that he heard, over and over. He’d – he’d hoped they would stop, once freed from the prison of void. He’d hoped it would be –

Be what?

Better?

Did he deserve better?

He’d done the best that he could, the wyrm wanted to argue. He’d done his best, when he had no other options. She would never have stopped. She was winning. She would have killed everyone in her bloody rage; she would have wiped out the entire population of Hallownest, shameless, in her aim to punish him for her perceived slight. Accusations of being a false idol, of theft, of playing at divinity without being a god in truth – she looked at him and she saw an enemy, and all was fair if it accomplished her goals. Ruthless creatures could be relentless. ‘No cost too great.’

“Breathe,” Grimm instructed, and he realized that he hadn’t been.

Instead, he’d been staring at the stone beneath his claws in a desperate bid to make sense of his thoughts, a fragrantly sweet, floral note snaring his throat. Honey. No. Infection. Where they were going was thick with it and dread worked chains around him, snapped all of his limbs to his chest.

The butterfly closed the distance and crouched in front of him. The Pale King did not look up at him, eyes locked downward, but he felt claws ghost the sides of his horns. Tension rolled through him, and it was soon rewarded as his head was jerked back sharply so that he was forced to meet the scarlet phantom’s gaze.

“Is this truly the best that you have for me? The wyrm who conquered my counterpart’s lands, reduced to little more than a weeping mess, sobbing uncontrollably on the ground?”

He wasn’t sobbing, he wanted to argue, but as soon as the thought rose, he felt moisture on his face. He was leaking.

Humiliating.

“And to think, your queen was very quick to tell me your kingdom would never accept me,” Grimm continued, relentless. His claws left the Pale King’s horns and settled between his own knees. “They could do far worse. I expected… more. Far more. Your progeny surpass you in every arena. Perhaps it is her influence, that imprisoned light deep within the tangled growth.”

His Root yet lived.

The wyrm laughed harshly, though it came out as little more than a croak. The dust in his throat rubbed it raw, made the sound worse, and it was her laugh – though he’d never heard it before in his life. He’d never heard anything but her angry screams. Not even words, really. They’d never tried to parlay. One did not negotiate with someone who was willing to result to mass murder to accomplish her goals.

“She exceeds you in all ways,” the Pale King spat. It heartened him to know that she lived. Part of him immediately wanted to go to her, to beg her for aid. The other, louder part, knew what she’d see: a shambling corpse, worm-rotted and perverse. She would never accept him as he was, nor should she. He should not have existed.

Grimm smiled. “Is that what it takes to energize you, wyrm? Reminding you of what you have loved and lost?” The beat that he waited was not long enough to formulate a cohesive response. Grimm rose to his feet and turned to the trailing ledges that led upward. “If that is so, then I relish at last having a conversation partner in our next destination. Can you smell it? The infection, thick in the air? It will only grow stronger.” He moved, leaping up a ledge, and without turning back, he added, “Your queen was quick to tell me that Hallownest would never accept me and mine… but Hallownest is dead. Those who would protest us have long lost their capacity to do so. All that remains are corpses – as far as the eye can see.”

The wyrm slowly, shakily, rose to his feet.

He did not want to enter the capital. Grimm was right.

There was nothing and no one left to dispute his claims to the contrary.

#ashe writes #consequences fic #hk fanfic #hollow knight #troupe master grimm #nightmare king grimm #hk the pale king

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runscold-runsdeep · 3 months

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Been having some thoughts for a while now, and I really wanna talk about them. Just. Scream it out into the void for a moment and let it echo. Not exactly a vent? But I just have a lot of thoughts about the tickling community of tumblr, and why I’m not as active on it as I used to be, or why I kind of avoid it.

I’ve been a part of it since I was maybe 14, but I never engaged with the kink side. I just thought of it as a sfw interest, and I kept my distance from the kink the best I could and stayed with my fellow sfw tickling enjoyers, and fuck, I tried my fucking best. Everyone complains with kids invading nsfw spaces, but I as a child had to block and beg kink blogs to not follow and interact with me, and I think twice I was groomed in the community by kink adults. It’s terrifying how many groomers there are in this community, and I think one of my groomers is still active, and it kills me even today that my call-out post I made when I just turned 18 fell on deaf ears. But it is what it is, I guess.

The entitledness folks have here is grating too, and it’s so tiring to see the same arguments from both the sfw and nsfw side with the “it’s a kink and there’s no such thing as sfw tickling” vs the puritan “Nsfw tickling is gross and y’all should feel bad about it” fights. For as long as I’ve been active, it’s been the same drama and I’m just, over it.

While the community sucks major ass, and I don’t wish to engage with people much anymore there, I do want to try to open back up and write fics and make art, even if it’s just me and my girlfriend—who I met in the fandom tickling community—that will enjoy them.

But idk. It probably won’t happen, but I really wanna try to enjoy the community again.

#idk this has been bouncing around in my head a while #and no one really cares but #idk #I’ve been in a weird headspace recently #tickling #tickling kink #tickle kink

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carry-on-my-wayward-butt · 2 years

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It’s so fucking hard to use tumblr anymore ever since my ex husband decided to utilize it as a self harm device via my diary posts

I used to enjoy using this blog as a place to just kind of scream into the void and maybe hear some squeaks echoing back, but now it’s just a spy machine to me. I’m carefully wording everything in this post in case he decides to twist something while checking it again for whatever reason despite me not using it in months, and him fully informed that he can just ask directly if he wants to know what’s up with me.

I feel all paranoid now :(

I want my void back.

#op #divorce saga

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foxgloveprincess · 6 months

Note

im so late to this but i meant to ask you something from this!

🌵🔪🦋

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

I’m not someone who listens to a lot of playlists by other people. I sorta build my own little private hoards of music and listen to those ad naseum (like right now I’ve been listening to my ‘yearning’ playlist which is just a bunch of broadway ‘i want’ and similar songs).

But there were several songs on this playlist I enjoyed and added to my own playlist.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Was it the 18th century dog kennels? Or the history of zippers and balloons in the early 20th century? Or the traditions of medieval weddings when it came to cake and celebration? Perhaps my research into hysteria and lobotomies? Or the process and experience of electrical branding?

Those are the ones that come first to mind. I don’t know if I’m a good judge of weird or not, though.

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

Too much. This might get heavy, fair warning.

In concerns to writing, I’ve been wondering whether it’s worth it to continue to post fanfiction (especially on Tumblr, but just in general). With engagement being so low and AI stealing, it seems like such a waste of time and effort. I mean, I like sharing, but there’s always that thought in the back of my head that says no one cares. Or that I’m used up and obsolete. Especially lately. I post, I get three or four reblogs with comments (from mostly the same people, who I love 💜), and the rest are likes. On AO3, I wake up most days to a kudos email, but comment emails are so rare and usually only within the first day of posting. I’m just so tired. And I can’t tell if it’s making me happy to write anymore or if I’m just telling myself it is. Most days I feel like I’m writing for an audience of air, screaming into the void with no echo. Waiting and hoping for just the smallest indication that there’s a community out in the ether eagerly awaiting me.

#✨rachel replies✨#jen with a pen #ask games #writers truth and dare #that got real heavy real fast #sorry

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arabaka · 1 year

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ʚ｡ﾟ☁︎｡ɞ｡ lately i've been feeling like tumblr is like a void i just scream into and hear my own echo back but maybe i should be appreciative and use this time to just. scream obscenities about how i want reigen to raw dog me in any and every way possible

#maybe my issue is uh. him.#.˚₊ ੈ ʚ ☕ ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ chit chats! ꒱

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saltyr3mix · 1 year

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No longer a void

Poem by Me! written in less than 30 minutes because i was sad. i thought tumblr might appreciate it so here!!!!

I say i love you

And at some point i think i did

I cherished your smile

Memorized your intrests

Laughed at your jokes

Teased your brain

Echoed your dreams

And held you close with a passion

There was a point where you meant the world to me

The center of my solar system

Thats a good metaphor, let me expand it

My entire life ive been warped into diffrent galaxies

And grown to find joy and beatuy in all of them

Which is why it hurts

You see id speand years and years

appraciteing and gathering stars

Finding peace and comfort in these systems

And then ill blink and out of my control im somewhere entirely new

And i’ll enjoy it

But always find myself comparing it to the others

Their differences and similarities were intriguing

From the day i first saw you i could tell you were diffrent than the other stars

No you were barly a star at all

You were a sun

The first thing you did was scare of stars that were close enough to harm me

I thanked you

Your warmth was something i never felt before

It was nice compared to the slight chilli had grown used to

I didnt explore much else of that galxy after that

You were far more interesting than whatever it could possibly offer me

It felt you understtood me

And that you were the only things that did

I thought you were another form of life

You protected me and gave me things

I loved you

And then like the 4 times its happend in the past

I blink and awake to a whole new galaxy

Only its diffrent than the others

It’s made of nothing

Just a dark endless cold void that swallows me whole

Not knowing what to do i call out

I shout and scream hoping someone would hear me

Pleading for someone to realize how lost and afraid i was

No one came

Until i softly muttered your name

And nearly blinding me you flashed before my eyes

Lighting up the void with a fiery spark

And filling my bones with your comforting heat

You were there for me in my darkest moments

Im still not sure how but you were

I felt so small and alone and terrified of everything

But you were there

I clung to you because i didn't want to lose you again

I didn't want to lose anything again

And it was like that

For a long time

Just you and me against the world

We used to say that a lot back then didnt we?

I think

I think you were in a void of sorts too

I think at this time too, us?

We were the only things in the world

Years went by all in a blur

Our relationship grew and grew

It felt like you mattered to me more than myself most days

I think we both shared that thought

And it was just us

But the world is never that small is it?

Things are happening and changing all the time

And so other small stars started to twinkle in the disstance

It was hard to notice them at first but they were there

And then more started to appear

It wasn't fast

It still took months and years

But they bloomed

And they didnt stop ethier

More and more kept coming

It felt like the more that showed up the more that followed

Including other suns

Suns that lighted up the area around them

Suns that produced warmth that stuck my core

I no longer feel cold

I can barely see the void

And so i stooped clinging to you

Im not sure if i regret that or not

I got lost in the new array of stars

Appaciting them diffrently than i used to

It took some time but i started going back to my old habits

But the time i got back to you

Next to all the stars and suns i had just seen you looked so dim

It hurts becuase i know you arent

I know that there was a time that in my eyes

you shone brighter than whatever this system thinks it is

But thats because you were in-front of a void backdrop

I loved you because you saved me

I loved the warmth that you brought

I loved you becasue at the time i couldnt find anywhere else to put my love

But now?

I have a whole healthy support system behind me

I have hobbies and interests and clubs and fandoms

And writeing!

And so so so many wonderful family and friends

And i have so much love to give to all of them

That i cant love you like i used to

I’ll write you poems and songs

But wont send you the videos of me recording them

I’ll listen to your stories

but never check out the source material like you ask

I’ll love you

But i cant cling to you anymore

And i kind of hate that

I want so badly to pay you back for all you for me

I want to love and cherish you like you the only thing in the world

But your not anymore

#poem #poetry #I was sad for literally no reason and decided to write about it #May delete later this is pretty personal

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savage-rhi · 2 years

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Immortal Shield Chapter 27: Hesitation

**DM or comment if you want to be tagged in updates on tumblr

**To read previous chapters, hit this link

Tagging: @seradyn

A thundering storm outside of the hotel began to pick up in speed as rain poured down hard and tapped against the windows. Ardyn tossed and turned in bed. His fingertips gripped the sheets of the mattress, attempting to keep himself hooked and tethered to reality while his mind was anywhere but.

The Astral bane awaits.

Flashes of Noctis and Lunafreya came to mind. Their faces contorting into monstrous and depressing forms. There was no way in the waking world Ardyn could describe what he was bearing witness to. Noctis was stripped of his humanity from the inside out. A pair of eyes with semblance to Somnus peered out from the recesses of Noctis’s chest right at Ardyn. The sudden display had him scream out in the waking world. Ardyn's cries reverberated throughout the hotel room while he continued to dream.

Seal draconic entity to its fate.

His mind felt that it was being melted and broken down. A warm heat overtook every nerve and fiber of his body. Ardyn tried in vain to yell, but only desperate rasps left his mouth. He was dragged into a darkness, and like rising from the depths of an ocean, he emerged at the surface and gasped out like a newborn child taking its first and last breath. Crawling on his knees within the void, Ardyn could make out a room that held familiarity accompanied by soft whimpers echoing throughout the vicinity.

Ardyn forced himself onto nimble feet, his body swayed while he gasped and groaned. He found purchase alongside a tall marble column. His eyes darted around, blurry vision now becoming grounded once more. He squinted his eyes towards the large bed that had blue draping cast from the ceiling. The smell of sandalwood and fresh dried peaches lingered in his nostrils.

He was in Somnus’s chambers some 2,000 years ago.

“You,” Ardyn lowly sneered. He forced his weakened body to travel across the room. Eventually, Ardyn fell on his knees in front of Somnus, the great king, who was sitting at the edge of the bed, crying into his hands. A plethora of whispered pleads left his lungs. He barely had any air left in himself.

“Is this--supposed to make me feel pity for you?!” Ardyn exclaimed, he grit his teeth and shouted. “I took care of you. I protected you, and you took everyone I ever loved away! You miserable ingrate! You were the first person I cured of the scourge, who told me I should use these gifts to help others and then down the road, you stab me in the back! I hate you! I hate you so much! You don’t know what I’d give to wring your neck and throw you into the depths of hell! Damn you and damn the gods! I don’t care if you helped me with Bahamut before, you can eat shit too, brother!"

Like with his other visions regarding the past, Somnus ignored Ardyn’s yells. He continued to sob heavily into his hands. The scents of the herbs he burned was the only thing that offered any kind of reprieve from his sorrows.

“I’m--I’m so sorry,” Somnus whimpered. He gasped aloud, his hands once more meeting his face. Fingertips digging into his scalp while he silently raged.

For a moment, Ardyn could’ve sworn that perhaps Somnus did hear him this time around. His mouth parted, hanging open while he observed silently.

“Aera,” Somnus choked out. “That wasn’t--that wasn’t supposed to happen. Ardyn, I’m so sorry. I--I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know this was going to happen---I--Aera, I’m sorry---!”

"Foolish desires leave one for no rest."

A powerful voice permeated the room, causing several of Somnus’s belongings to quake. Ardyn felt his skin become littered with goosebumps. He knew the voice, all too well. It was akin to hearing a familiar friend, but with an undertone of malice that couldn’t be fully fathomed. He watched with horror as Somnus leaped up from the bed, staring towards the window as the draconic entity, Bahamut, showed himself.

The Astral’s four wings flared out, illuminated by golden tips as he stared straight into Somnus’s soul.

“You lied to me!” Somnus spat with contempt in between tears that trailed down his face. He sniffled, nostrils plugged from his own mucus. “Aera was supposed to live! I did everything the Gods and you bade of me, and I still lost her! You promised! You yourself dragon king promised no harm would’ve come to her! I had a vision that she was at my side!”

"The Oracle was destined for thee, yet she forsake herself to the Adagium. Her fate was in her own hands. Gods do not intervene in the theatrics of mortal men."

“How dare you!” Somnus yelled. “You plagued me with visions of an Eos in ruin because of Ardyn taking the scourge into himself! That if I didn't usurp the throne, it would lead to damnation! You threatened me with Aera, that if I didn’t go through with your demands that Ardyn be sealed away, she’d be taken! It didn’t matter, none of it did! I should let Ardyn out, tell him the truth, and let him destroy you!”

"You forget yourself, young Caelum. Be at peace. For thou art king."

“I don’t want to be a king! I want my family back!”

"Thy have proven incompetent of mind. You dare beseech the Gods who have given thy everything he wanted. We who took from one brother and gave to the other. Somnus Lucis Caelum, the Adagium shall not be yours to vanquish in your lifetime nor the next. Your blood will multiply until the true king comes forth."

“I refuse to--!” A sharp gasp left Somnus while he levitated from the ground. His windpipe felt as though it was being crushed under an invisible weight. His terrified blue eyes looked straight into Bahamuts as the dragon entity raised his left arm up, fingers clasping together making a fist while he controlled the force that grabbed a hold of Somnus and threatened to take his life.

"Do not meddle in the affairs of the Astrals. Your Oracle paid the price for sharing our secrets with thou. I have spoken."

As Ardyn watched the scene unfold, he felt his blood boil. His heart and soul split upon seeing his brother being treated less than, and hearing Bahamut degrade Aera’s life. Ardyn rose to his feet, letting out a bellowing cry while he rushed towards the draconic entity. There was a singular thought on Ardyn’s mind, which was to slay the dragon. As he ran with every ounce of energy he could muster, a tsunami of painful knowledge poured into Ardyn’s mind while he screamed out, summoning Rakshasa to his aid.

They all had been played by the Astrals. He, Somnus and Aera, all victims. The Astrals were terrified of the scourge. By itself it was of no consequence, but when bound to a living entity, could become a weapon to wipe the Astrals very existence. No longer could they be slain and rest for thousands of years before resurrection, they’d face the true death as mortals. The lives of everyone he ever loved, cared for, were all tossed away because of their fear, and Ardyn was in a terrible rage.

Before the end of Raksasha could meet with Bahamut's flesh, the dragon god turned towards Ardyn’s direction. The creatures eyes widened, and Ardyn was enveloped in a warm white light. He couldn’t see nor hear anything. The madness he had awakening within had become dormant. Ardyn thought himself to be dead, until he blinked. He saw an afternoon sky, could feel the texture of wheat underneath his body, and he rose up with a surprised gasp. Everything here was vivid and real, more real than Eos itself despite the atmosphere feeling light as a feather.

“Ardyn,” Aera’s soft voice coaxed him to glanced around, his eyes eventually settled on her figure from afar.

“Aera,” He blinked, his eyes watered with tears of joy. This had to be it, the other side. He got up and started running towards her. He imagined what it would be like to hold her in his arms again. She was so close, he could see even from the distance how she smiled proudly at him. Gods, he was almost home.

As he made it halfway through the fields towards his beloved, Ardyn suddenly stopped. Confusion settled on his face. Even he was unsure of why he didn’t continue on. He wanted to. With every fiber of his being, his soul longed to be united with Aera’s, but his body wouldn’t allow him to take another step. That’s when he heard Caelan from behind, he turned his head, assuming she’d be there by his side to join them, but there was no trace of her. Only her laughter and quiet pleads echoed through the soft pastel colored sky.

Ardyn once more faced Aera. His heart stammered and he felt conflict resonate within the entirety of his spirit. He swallowed, the corners of his eyes tearing up. He felt the truth hit him like a ton of bricks. Ardyn offered Aera a sincere smile, his golden hues filled with a remorse yet there was no guilt to be found.

“I love you,” He whispered with utmost sincerity. Even across the vast distance between them, Ardyn knew in his heart she could hear him.

“And I love another.”

He felt so foolish.

Ardyn bowed his head in defeat. His right palm met his face as he tried to keep his composure. His tears he had been keeping at bay streamed down his face. The small beads of water hit the dried out grass under his bare feet. Ardyn felt at this moment if Aera struck him down, he would’ve been more than deserving of her wrath. Not only had he damned Eos in the past, but he cared for another human on the same level he had held Aera to. Something that should’ve been reserved for one person and one person only, yet he harbored such strong attachment for two individuals.

Ardyn did a double take when the cosmos didn’t fall upon him, but instead he felt the warmth of Aera’s palm on his face. He stared up at her in bewilderment, scarce believing he was looking right into the eyes of his once beloved. He wondered how Aera covered so much ground to be with him.

“I’m sorry.”

Aera glared for a moment, shaking her head. She looked like a parent disappointed in her own child, and Ardyn couldn’t help but let out a small huff. He felt her flick his nose and he winced. The sincere look upon her face had him smile in between looking torn up. Gods, she really was here. Somewhere else, Ardyn could feel his body yearning to wake up.

Aera’s gentle eyes said all that needed to be said. She smiled big, giving Ardyn a reassuring nod. With a playful laugh, she shoved either side of Ardyn’s shoulders and he let out a surprised yell. Aera watched as he fell away, back to where he was supposed to be. The entire time her smile never waned.

Ardyn shot up from the floor of the hotel room, having tumbled down at some point during the night. He gasped aloud, pushing some long strands of his hair back. His whole body was covered in sweat. He scrambled to his feet and headed for the bathroom. His body ached for relief, feeling as though it had been beaten into while he slept.

He sat on the bottom of the tub for a long while as the warm water from the shower head trickled down across his back; soothing sore muscles and easing his rattled mind. Ardyn couldn’t remember the majority of his dream, but the words of whatever deity called out to him settled in his memories. He also remembered Aera’s touch. He knew her presence was around, but to what extent and what transpired, Ardyn didn’t have a clue. The human mind was too fragile for what was experienced. All Ardyn felt was a peace he didn’t want to feel. Not when he felt so lost.

“Cahl,” Ardyn called out groggily. He stopped repeating her name when he realized she wasn’t around. She wasn’t here to listen to his ramblings or help him make sense of whatever the hell was happening to him. No, not anymore. He made sure of that. It had been a week since he left her stranded at Cape Caelum. And Ardyn was now but only a few days from Insomnia.

Once he forced himself out of the shower, Ardyn wrapped a towel loosely around his waist and ventured back to the bed. He sat near the headboard, looking down at the night stand where his phone had been charging. Furrowing his brows and letting out a growl, Ardyn reached for his phone and unlocked it. He scrolled through his texts with her. Nothing new. There were no calls either. Ardyn's thumb hovered over the call button when he checked her profile on his contact list. A strong temptation to give Caelan a call crept in his psyche, and it was only out of pride did he relent. His hand retreated away, placing the phone back down before he fell backwards onto the bed. His palms rubbed his eyes while he sighed deeply.

Ardyn placed a new hat he had purchased for himself atop his head after checking out. He ventured outside the establishment, wincing from the high rise of the sun. The Leide region was sweltering per usual. He couldn’t help but recall the night he and Caelan first camped together in the desert as he walked away from the pit stop and began his journey once more to Insomnia.

“How often do you bathe?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Caelan was exasperated while she grimaced upon seeing Ardyn’s feet getting close to her face.

“May I kindly remind you dear, that you suggested we sleep in this fashion because of your discomfort lying side by side. And to be quite honest, your toes are not exactly smelling like sylleblossoms and lavender.” Ardyn countered. His tone was laced with teasing sarcasm. He let out a startled grunt when Caelan’s left foot hit him square in the jaw for the comment.

“Gods be damned,” Ardyn growled and he rose up, not able to take it any longer. He unzipped the front of the tent and crawled out.

“Where are you going?” Caelan grumbled, letting out an exhausted groan.

“I’d rather sleep outside with the stars as my companions than deal with your theatrics.”

“Suit yourself, brat prince. Sorry you couldn’t be pampered further! Do you expect a mint on your pillow when thou returns to his royal bedchambers?”

Ardyn felt tempted to go back inside the tent and smother Caelan with her own pillow, but he resisted. It was too much of an effort and she wasn’t worth his time. He made himself comfortable nearby the campfire, lying down on a smooth gravely surface. His legs crossed and his hands went behind his head while he looked up at the sky. Already he could feel the discomfort leave him be.

For hours he watched the cosmos dance to its own tune. There was a yearning that stirred in Ardyn’s heart as he observed each individual star. A mist of purples and blues further illuminated the ever expanding planets and solar systems of the beyond. Before he could contemplate further, Ardyn heard the ground nearby being startled. He looked up, seeing Caelan had left the tent and was now standing by him.

“I was out of line earlier,” Caelan said with defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” Ardyn sighed, then gestured with his head. “You can join me if you’d like.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. My hostility towards you died a while ago.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re quite welcome. Most don’t get such a pardon from yours truly.” Ardyn mused.

Caelan snorted, gave a playful roll with her eyes and then she sat down. From the corner of Ardyn’s eye, he observed her get comfortable while her body lied down beside his. A faint smirk traveled across his lips noticing how she was being mindful not to get too close into his personal bubble. His eyes stared back towards the cosmos.

“Tell me something,” Caelan started while she put her hands behind her head, a slight grimace hit her features as rock from the ground embedded themselves into her arms. “Did you guys from 2,000 years ago have bizarre myths about constellations?”

Ardyn chuckled. “Of course. Tell me one you know and we can compare and contrast.”

Caelan hummed in thought, furrowing her brows while she searched the sky. She hadn’t looked for constellations in years. Not since she was a child. There were very few she could recall. Given how vast space was, it was quite difficult to pinpoint one. She was surprised as the minutes ticked on, that Ardyn had nothing clever to say.

“That one,” Caelan squinted her eyes. “The one with the hook structure, that one’s called Sornia, the Conqueror. He was a king before Solheim came into existence. He slayed a giant serpent that encircled Eos, and the creatures blood created the oceans.”

Ardyn smiled as he listened to Caelan’s end of things. To say he was impressed and amused was an understatement.

“Sornia the Conqueror was known as Sornia The Traveler in my time,” Ardyn began. He turned his head to the side, observing Caelan as she continued to look up at the sky. There was something about the sense of awe in her features that had him transfixed while he continued.

“Sornia wasn’t a king, but an Astral. He didn’t emerge with the six, but came from another universe. His world and all the Astrals under his coven perished and he sought out companionship with our Gods. He was killed though, having angered Ramuh over a pitiful disagreement. The Gods vanquished him.”

“You guys took morbid tales to another level. That’s really messed up. Poor guy alone in the universe finds some friends, and they kill him over nothing?” Caelan raised a brow, turning to face Ardyn as he shrugged.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, it’s what I was told since I was a boy.”

“I think I’ll stick with the conqueror story.” Caelan laughed.

“I don’t blame you,” Ardyn sighed, he too joined Caelan with a chuckle. “I can relate with Sornia, I hate to admit.”

There was a silence that lingered between Ardyn and Caelan after his comment. Ardyn furrowed his brows, wondering if perhaps he was sharing too much. It was only when Caelan cleared her throat did the thoughts settle down.

“What was it like being in the presence of one of them, an Astral?”

“Wow,” Ardyn let out a startled chortle. He looked over, seeing the confusion and reluctance in Caelan’s features before he shook his head. “Forgive me. No one has asked me that before. I’m rather taken back.”

“You don’t gotta answer--”

“No, no, no, I don’t mind.” Ardyn interrupted. He offered a smile, hoping she wouldn’t turn him down with his offer. It wasn’t everyday he got to talk about such things with people. Not on a level where he felt he could be honest and sincere.

“Have you ever been in the presence of the king?” Ardyn asked. He watched Caelan nod a few times.

“Not the current one, though I’ve seen Regis before his passing.”

“Meeting an Astral is akin to meeting a royal, but with more weight. If that makes sense.”

“You feel nervous. Your legs want to give out and you feel there’s some magnetic pull this other person has and if you don’t respect it, you’re going to be in deep shit?”

“Precisely,” Ardyn laughed. He was quite amused at Caelan’s long winded response. Ardyn wasn’t sure why, but his body began to scoot closer to Caelan’s. He carefully gauged her reactions, more than prepared to stay in his lane if he overstepped boundaries. However he was amazed that she remained calm as he met her side in full, his head tilting to meet hers while he blinked and watched the skies with her.

“Tell me more constellation stories.” Caelan murmured. She was smiling from ear to ear.

“Gladly,” Ardyn began pointing out another cluster of stars. “Those three are known as the Sisters of Styria. They created the Styrian Sea with the tears they shed for their mortal lovers. The Astrals didn’t believe the men to be worthy of the Sisters affections and made them endure three harrowing trials. They passed all but one. The final test, was sacrificing their eyes. For love is blind, and if they truly loved the sisters, they’d endure. The men without question did as the Gods bade, yet it was a trick. By doing so, they could no longer comprehend the Sisters and thus forgot them over time. They could only be with them in the night realms when they slept. And when they’d wake, the lovers would have no memory of them. The sisters mourned and mourned in the heavens until the men died of natural causes. The Styrian Sea was made, and they were reunited.”

Caelan was halfway asleep by the time Ardyn finished. Her breaths became steady as her eyes fought to stay open. “Its nice they got to be together again.”

Ardyn looked upon her, giving a smile. “For a rather cliché tale, I couldn’t agree more.”

Caelan finally allowed sleep to take over. Ardyn remained put, and slowly began to shut his eyes. The cool breeze from the winds were welcoming to his warm body. Ardyn hadn’t had an interaction like this with anyone in thousands of years, and he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be seen and heard so casually.

“Sleep well." He murmured.

In the present, Ardyn stopped in his tracks. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself as the memory of that night continued to play throughout his head. For whatever reason, his subconscious couldn’t let it go.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ardyn said to himself bitterly. Though he entertained the thought of seeking Caelan, he knew it would do no good. His presence would probably cause more harm considering the circumstances, yet his heart ached. He sighed through his nose, letting out a growl and continued onward, managing to hitch a ride on a truck much in a similar fashion for when Caelan and he first began their travels. While he rode in the back of the pick up, it felt so peculiar not having her sit across from him, interrogating about his teleportation abilities.

As Ardyn looked outward and watched various creatures roam by, he could feel his mind drifting off to Kurt and Florens. The final night Caelan and he stayed at their residence before departure.

Kurt and Ardyn stepped outside onto the patio. The moon was fully out, and the rampant chirp of crickets filled the Duscae region with various off key melodies. Both the men glanced behind them at the window, seeing Caelan and Florens working on something together in the living room before either of them acknowledged one another.

“Those two hit it off,” Kurt commented with a smile. "I didn't think they'd ever stop talking about Insomnian bands."

“Cahl is a people pleaser,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact, not bothering to hide his disdain. “It can be a mild annoyance at times.”

“I bet. Florens used to drag me everywhere to meet new folks. Even when I wasn’t in a mood or didn’t much care for the people we were seeing.”

Ardyn smirked briefly, his brows furrowed while he looked towards the Scepter. Ever since Kurt got a good look at him earlier on, Ardyn knew an uncomfortable conversation was coming. That his identity had been compromised.

“I know you’re the chancellor,” Kurt finally said after a long period of silence.

“What gave me away?” Ardyn asked. There was a coldness to his tone that had the older man slightly on edge.

“I lived in Gralea. You may not have been broadcasted all over Eos, but you were very common place on our televisions whenever Aldercapt went off on his grandiose announcements. Even without the eccentric attire, I knew it was you by your voice alone.” Kurt said as a matter of fact.

The older man made a sad face, shaking his head while he recalled the news about Gralea falling to ruins because of Ardyn’s exploits. Some of his family members, the ones that had rejected Florens for her being Lucian, were among the casualties.

“Do you intend on handing me over to the authorities of Lucis?” Ardyn tensed, bracing himself.

“No,” Kurt shook his head. “After what I’ve been through, I wouldn’t forgive myself if you ended up abused in their systems. Quite frankly, I don’t want to even know how you survived or what your story is. I made a promise to your friend that I wouldn’t jeopardize her. I know she’s on the run too. So no, I won’t be turning you in.”

“You have my eternal thanks,” Ardyn let out a sigh of relief. He was grateful that there wouldn’t be any bloodshed tonight. He was more than prepared to slay the couple, if it meant keeping Caelan safe. The pattern of thinking disturbed Ardyn. Not that he was above committing something so atrocious, but that he wasn’t thinking about saving his own hide. In the past, he would’ve made a calculated move to cover for himself alone. It’s how he played the political games of Niflheim and worked his way up.

“Can I be frank with you?” Kurt piped up, snapping Ardyn out of his thoughts. Ardyn shrugged, gesturing for Kurt to continue.

“Your friend loves you very much.”

Ardyn made a face, then tilted his head as he looked back to the window to observe Caelan for a time. His brows knitted into a glare.

“A preposterous assumption, I assure you.” Ardyn muttered begrudingly. “She is a loyal shield, and we aren’t even friends.”

“She spoke highly of you on the way back home.” Kurt huffed, not buying Ardyn’s brooding behavior in the slightest. “You’re both equally stubborn.”

“I guess that’s one reason why we haven’t killed each other yet. Too much common ground there.” Ardyn joked, hoping that it would allow him the opportunity to change the subject. Kurt however seemed key to press on as he felt the older man’s scrutinizing gaze upon him.

“Florens told me when you and Cahl were catching up, that you were married before. You lost your wife a long time ago.”

“I was,” Ardyn sighed. Shooting a glare towards Kurt. “Old crones truly are ones for gossip.”

“It’s not gossip if she’s telling her husband,” Kurt said in his beloveds defense, giving a smirk before he pressed on. His face faltered, going from playful to morose.

“I know it’s not my place to say anything, but I think you shouldn’t let this one get away. How many people do you know who would go rescue an old coot like me out of a concentration camp? Not many. Anyone that can tolerate your sorry ass after the nasty shit you pulled has a bigger heart than most of us.”

Ardyn sighed. “You forget yourself. I wouldn’t make assumptions that have no merit--”

“I see how you look at her,” Kurt interrupted before Ardyn could get in another thought.

“And how do I look at Cahl?” Ardyn asked with an exasperated sigh. He was becoming irate with the conversation.

“Like you saw the most delectable piece of orange cake this side of Lucis, and its way out of your price range so you have to stick to window shopping and hope one day you get it.”

“That’s highly crude.”

“I only speak the truth.” Kurt snorted.

“Whatever,” Ardyn shook his head. He decided to take the reigns of the conversation, no longer wanting Kurt to lead. He didn’t like the ideas the old man was planting in his head. He couldn’t help though but steal another glance towards the window to look at Caelan. More so to prove Kurt wrong that he didn’t do such things, and if he was gandering at Caelan in such a fashion, he’d catch and correct it.

“I don’t mind offering you and your wife financial compensation to keep quiet about Cahl and myself. I still have the means. Name your price.”

Kurt eyes followed where Ardyn’s gaze landed. The older man slowly began to smirk. Shaking his head, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“No need. Florens and I don’t want for nothing. Though I do have a request.”

“Name it.”

“Never pass up an opportunity to be happy.”

Ardyn raised a brow, his head turning to meet Kurt’s larger than life smile. The glint in the older man’s eyes had him flustered at the situation, knowing very well what Kurt was alluding to.

“I pray we never meet again after this.” Ardyn muttered.

“Makes two of us, chancellor.” Kurt laughed.

Three had come and gone for Ardyn, and he was standing in the middle of Insomnia at the center of the main district. He was quick to take in the changes that had come and gone; amazed that despite his meddling and destructive path, the city somehow looked better than its original state. Then again he was in richer area and had yet to see what became of the outliers. He could see the palace from afar, beckoning him to proceed.

The illusion he had cast upon himself to appear as an ordinary citizen remained up and running. Ardyn knew though he was on limited time. Having tested the ability before setting foot past the city check points, he gave himself a day to morph into another. In the past he could go several days appearing as someone else before the magic would fizzle out, and he’d have to rest and recoup. Now, it was even less than. A few hours at most. He didn’t understand it, how he was supposed to accomplish whatever the Astrals prophesized when he had been struck down in power. Maybe though, maybe it was a fail safe. To keep him at bay so he wouldn’t try attempting to kill the Gods again. He furrowed his brows. Caelan would’ve had a good theory for that, or at best an alternative perspective.

Caelan. He was about to take a step but stopped. Crowds of people walked past him. Ardyn could hear construction going on in the foreground. The noises of cars and small talk permeating the air. The bouquet of scents that whiffed off nearby foods at restaurants. All of it hit him at once. Life. Even when its been reduced to ash, a piece of something always survives.

There was still so much he wanted to see and do.

Ardyn had thought he had experienced enough of the world, but when he really took in the grand picture of what he endured since Verstael found him on Angelgard, he never truly lived to make up for the time he had been caged. He spent years scheming and building his way to the top of a precipice, only to jump off, never enjoying the journey but rather speeding through to the outcome desired.

He thought of the men in his former existence as chancellor. Verstael, Aldercapt, Ravus, and Serpo. People whom Ardyn used as pawns but admired in his own way. They all had a similar theme: each of them ambitious during their young years. They worked themselves to death chasing impossible goals at the expense of their youth, families, and humanity. Ardyn watched them grow old and their bodies become frail, never giving up the chase. They wasted so much time being angry, and carnally desiring power that would never befall them, that they never appreciated what was right in front of them. Aldercapt in particular.

Pulling the strings of the old man had been easy for Ardyn as he grew into power. Ledolas was so terrified by death, from the loss of his wife and son, that he was easily swayed to the point where he barely comprehended he still had a piece of his loved ones left in the form of his granddaughter. Aldercapt wasted his life in pursuit of immortality. Something Ardyn would've never allowed another human to bear. Though he dangled the carrot in front of the horse and led him astray, Ardyn knew Aldercapts lust for conquering death would've led him to his fate even if he had never plucked the emperors strings.

For the first time, Ardyn was truly able to grasp he was repeating their mistakes. Though he was immortal and couldn’t suffer the consequences of his actions, his heart could take the brunt.

Ardyn didn’t want to waste his life. Immortal or living on borrowed time.

There was still so much he wanted to see and do.

Ardyn glanced around, taking in a few deep breaths. He wasn’t one to get anxious, especially when amongst a huge group. The sensations his body underwent was foreign to himself. His knees wanted to give out, breathing becoming more irregular. His heart became erratic, and his right hand reached to touch at the spot on his chest. That's when his thumb subconsciously ran over the patch of scar tissue where the Behemoth gouged him. He couldn’t help but pull back the collar of his shirt, looking down. Trace remnants of where Caelan had touched him, where she had healed him remained. He swallowed.

He was terrified of what was to come.

He was unsure of why he was following the whims of the Astrals in the first place--or whatever brought him back--given how much he despised them and strongly advocated for his own free will.

He could care less about Noctis, Eos, all of it.

He couldn’t do this without her.

Ardyn forced his eyes to cast a final look over of the palace from afar. He turned his head back in the direction of where he had come from. He was so close to being done with this foolishness. To hopefully get answers and rest in peace. His mind told him to proceed, leave everything behind much like he did before on his conquest for vengeance. His body however, his heart, beckoned him to take another approach.

“Damn it.” Ardyn closed his eyes, sighing through his nose. He turned away from the palace and took his leave. His feet began to tread more quickly while he ran past people, shoving some out of the way.

As he treaded through the sea of people that called Insomnia their home, Ardyn’s mind was scrambling. Trying in vain to come up with a list of apologies, gifts, and actions he could take to rectify what happened. He knew he royally screwed things up, and he knew Caelan was in no position to forgive him nor want him around, but he had to try. He had to do something.

He loved her. He loved her so much it hurt not being around.

#immortal shield #ardyn lucis caelum #ardyn #ardyn izunia #ffxv #final fantasy xv #fanfic #fanfiction #original characters #the epiphany this mother fucker needed for a LONG time #dont care if its ooc #its called growth

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rogue-driv3r · 2 years

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Off-topic but there used to be a lot of cool people here who just disappeared. Sometimes they announced their departure from this hellsite, some of them even properly deactivated their blogs, while many others one day simply stopped posting and their blogs can still be roamed like ghost towns. I really wonder what happened to some of them, if they're even ok...

*screaming in the void of the inactive wasteland* HEY, YOU'RE MISSING THE BEST TUMBLR OF THE LAST YEARS, IT'D BE THE PERFECT TIME TO COME BACK! *echoing*

#tumblr #nostalgia

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hell-isnt-infinitesimal · 5 months

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I think I’m going to start using tumblr for what it was made for. No, not for fandom or explicit content, but to just scream into the void. Maybe every once a while there will be an echo of response, but there is something liberating about putting your thoughts out there without any net to catch them

#last time I posted stuff on tumblr is was just vague fandom stuff #I was trying to pander to everyone and everything #because I cared about attention on this god forsaken hellsite #maybe I should change my url

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ashyronfire · 1 year

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White & Gray || Prologue - We'll Be Lost Before The Dawn

Title: Prologue - We'll Be Lost Before The Dawn Rating: M Characters: The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel (x2), Hornet, The Pale King, Herrah (+ more, tbh) Warnings: Introspect-Heavy, Found Family, THK is Not Nice, Angst/Depression, PTSD-based dissociation at times, Trauma Bonding, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Self-Harm, Suicide/Suicidal Ideology, Off-Screen Suicide, Post-Dream No More Ending

Summary:

In defiance of death. In defiance of light. In defiance of space. In defiance of time. Void: potential without limit. To recreate. To undo the mistakes of the past. To alter the course of history. To rewrite the past, there is no cost too great. Tell me you will live through this and I will die for you. Through trick of void or twist of fate, the Hollow Knight is sent back to the beginning, to a time when Hallownest had yet to fall. To save themselves. To change their own destiny. And perhaps to grant Hallownest a kinder fate as well...

Author's Note: Hi! This fic was my big project and is my pride and joy. It's coming close to a year old. When I first released W&G, I didn't have a Tumblr - so only 2/3s of the chapters got linked here. I was also too shy to crosspost it here properly. After AO3 being DDoSed recently, and with this fic's one year anniversary coming up, I decided to be brave and start posting it once a week here for those who want to read but don't particularly feel like going to AO3 for whatever reason.

That being said, this fic is finished. The entirety of it can be read on Ao3 as-is (if you'd rather binge), or you can read it here with its weekly updates. You can also find the fanart that it has received under this blog's tag of w&g. The tag w&g fanfic will be for the actual fic.

(Also, sorry to people who read it who may not want this fic on your dash. Promise I'm not gonna spam. <3)

Prologue ||

Needlepoints of ivory lit up a place light dared not venture. They came in pairs: one, two, three, four, and then the numbers increased so rapidly that it was impossible to keep count. No two were exactly alike in shape, and yet they were so alike that the average viewer would be unable to tell them apart. An amalgamation of shadow woven into form not-fully-solid and never meant to be, they were silent. Their screams needed no sound to resonate from the furthest reaches of creation to a world they were never meant to tread.

They came.

They came to the one with ashen form. With bone. To the solid one who dared to ascend to the heavens. Who climbed higher and higher, whose shadow was at once darker than theirs and more tangible.

They rose from their darkness, from the place forgotten by time and all who came before. There was no call. There needn’t be one. There were no words, for there was no use for those, either.

They came for the blinding light filling the morning, painting the sky golden, yellow, orange.

Higher. Higher.

They were hungry . They hungered for her.

She screamed. The sound was deafening; it was rage given voice and it echoed throughout all of creation, as far as the light touched – but the light did not touch everything, and that scream of rage could not pierce the darkness rising up from beneath the world, into a realm that it had never touched. The void did not dream. The void simply existed: kindness and cruelty, malice and delight, the great vacuum. Without hopes and aspirations, it could not enter to her world, and at its basest form, the void had none of these things.

But one had given it something . One had given it purpose: single-minded devotion to duty, to instruction. Seal the blinding light that plagues their dreams.

The one with form climbed. They followed. The great black wave stained all that it touched as it cascaded, rolling along the mountain’s edge to follow like a beacon. She flew higher into the sky, to escape the rising of that dark tide. She could not get higher enough. There was no height it could not ascend; that they could not guide it.

Great tendrils of darkness shot out, gripped and pulled. She screamed again and tore herself free.

More eyes lifted. Watching, impassive. She was terrified. It did not care. She was screaming for escape. It felt nothing at all.

The tidal wave could not be stopped once it had begun, and it began long ago: the moment that another creature entered that vast emptiness and left something alive within. The earthquake took the form of an egg filled with the essence of wyrm and root, the eye of the storm.

The one given form followed. It gave chase and the great sea wove the path it tread. Up, higher and higher.

Great tendrils shot out, then, and wrapped around her. One broke off from the mass, a pair of eyes lit up by lightning scar hued in gold. It grabbed her by the face, held her face and pulled her into its claws. It felt. The sea did not; the sea was impassive. It was not . It was angry. It was scared. It was filled with a terrible determination. She screamed and this time it was personal: aimed at that one, that shadow that held her fast in its claws with no intent of letting go. Or perhaps the scream was at the one before her.

The sound of shell breaking was sickening; cracks like bone, discarded, forgotten. The one with form became formless, and yet it did not dissolve into the sea, into the rest of them. The void answered its command as it launched an assault at the weakness exposed by the other one. The slashes were rapid, vicious, soundless, and yet somehow they drowned out her defiant, desperate pleas - not words, more feral, more animalistic. The last shriek of an era dying, before being whisked away into sweet, unending silence.

Her light exploded around it and then the tidal wave broke.

All that remained was the dark.

And words.

Words in a voice it heard once, so long ago. They were faint, and yet they resonated just the same. One among the mass was pained. One among the mass hurt to hear them. A memory, then, a place so long ago.

Yours is the power opposed.

But yours is potential, eternity potential, force that could defy Time.

Would the one without form simply cease to be? Its task was done. It could rest.

The void did not know conflict of emotions. The void did not know emotions at all. And yet one among it knew conflict: one among it knew emotions. One in the mass knew pain, regret, sorrow, anger, hatred, betrayal. One in the mass knew love , that terrible ruin that spelled its own undoing. Those words evoked that feeling, strange and uncomfortable, and what one felt, all felt: a pain without cease and a lack of understanding. A question, then, churning within the storm.

It saw her, a figure in scarlet cut from the same cloth as the one with form. It receded, but it saw her walk to the broken, discarded shell and look at it, and that question grew louder still.

Yours is potential, eternity potential, force that could defy Time.

Defy time.

W h y.

Hornet.

That was her name.

The void did not feel. The void had no need of names; of identities; of personalities. The void was one great mass, as simple as the sea, perhaps at times turbulent but never feeling. Impassive, eroding and changing, shaping the world in its wake and unstoppable, manipulated by the tides of others but never deliberate in its actions.

It knew her, though, for the one given form had known her, and the one who knew pain knew her.

It knew her.

“Thank you, little ghost,” she said, and it heard her as the waves receded. It heard her and it was filled with a great terrible sensation: emotions unwelcome in the vacuum of its being.

There was regret. There was sorrow. There was confusion. There was a wish.

Defy time.

W h y.

Afloat; one of them was afloat, separate. No, not one. Two. Two were afloat. The others had been absorbed back into it, from whence they came, to sleep as they had before the disruption, their great duty fulfilled. But two were adrift in their sea together. The one with form. The one who knew pain, who knew fear. It was that fear that kept it from rejoining the waves: that fear and an overwhelming sense of regret.

Why. Why. Why. Why.

It could be undone. The one with form knew this to be fact. All could be unwritten. It was limitless potential. It needed only gentle guidance. It could be undone. It could retain its form. The one who knew fear could get an answer to the burning question. Would it change destiny? Was that truly its wish? There were some questions to which the answer would only hurt.

It knew pain intimately. It did not know answers.

But it could be given them, for the void was unlimited potential: a force that could defy even time itself, should it will it. It did not understand the fixation. It did not understand why it mattered. Those who had spoken those cursed words were long gone. Those who had woken it from its slumber were long gone. Its mission, its objective, was fulfilled. The sea was able to return to its banks and be undisturbed once more. It had accomplished what it set out to do. Yet the two remained among a whole, unique, distinct: individual, where individuals were not meant to be.

The sea gave a violent shudder. The air was thick with darkness. It crept from that cursed prison, receding through the cracks in ground, through the space between where nothing lived and nothing died, through to a place where everything and nothing was one.

Back to where it came from.

Defy time.

Why. Why. Why?

Did it truly matter so much? Was it truly that important, that it could not return to peace without knowing?

Then it would know.

Void tendrils stirred. Shining white eyes lifted, meeting a pair so like its own, and yet so different. Two individuals in a blanket of the same: two distinct, where none should be. There would be more pain this route, but it was accustomed to pain, it knew pain like a lover, and it was not afraid anymore. In doing this, it would forever change things. It would change the existence of the whole. The one given form might not exist. The one who knew pain might not exist. It needed to know. It needed an answer. It could not rest.

Then it would know.

Defy time.

What form it took would be up to it. The shells were all broken. There was not one to contain it. There would be complications. None would understand. It still wished it. The hands of time were in fluctuation. It was intimately acquainted with fear, yet it knew fear all over again: the unknown was a variable it had not entirely accounted for, but it would not undo it.

The void sea rose in waves. Those white eyes of its sibling, form and unity, met its own. It watched, impassive. The instruction was unspoken and yet implicitly understood: this would change everything. There would be no third chance. There would be no unraveling the threads of fate from here. Was this still its wish, knowing that there would be no coming back? That it would never see the fruits of its labors? That even if it got its answers, even if it succeeded, it may never actually know what came to pass? Unwritten. Let it be unwritten, then. Let it start anew.

The cost would be great.

It was afraid. It had walked into fear before.

Defy time.

Remember us.

The one with form tilted its head very slowly. Watched, with those same strange eyes. There was a tension in the air then, as the waves churned into a maelstrom. The same tendrils that had pulled her down to her ruin wove around it but unlike her, it did not struggle. It embraced the darkness and all that it offered. Limitless potential. Defiance of time.

To start again. To rewind the fabric of reality.

To find out.

#ashe writes #w&g fanfic #hk fanfic #hollow knight fanfic #hollow knight #hk thk #hk pure vessel

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