#and these are near death/before death induced hallucinations
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guess whoooo decided to stop putting off watching life on mars' last episode,, and now has been suffering for the last few days
#it was all fun and games until#i can't listen to bowie's lom the same way ever. from now on#literally the perfect tragic ending for this show#such catharsis#the last 70s sequences being SO idealistic that u just KNOW that if the rest of it was on some level real THIS is not#and these are near death/before death induced hallucinations#the choice to “live” in delusion#chefs kiss#this hit on so many levels let me tell u
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could u do the reader is high or drunk and xavier’s been looking for her. he finds her and he takes care of her and readers clingy and keeps apologising for worrying him
A/n: the depiction of the reader being high in this fic isn’t the over all experiences of someone who smokes weed as the effects of weed differs from person to person. I’m only adding this here to reinstate that this fic isn’t meant to be taken as an generalisation of weed consumption.
And yes I don’t know much about weed consumption because I’ve never tried before (I wouldn’t know where to begin even if I did.) so try not to take the depiction so seriously because at the end of the day. It’s just a fic.
Xavier is an worrier through and through but this trait of his only got worse when you were involved in anything he perceived as remotely dangerous. So much so that it’s no wonder that a lot of people would’ve liked to believe that he’d have you in bubble wrap 24/7. Tracker chip and all.
So when he near enough had a close encounters with a full blow panic when he couldn’t find you anywhere on school grounds before bolting up to your dorm, flinging open the door only to be met with the strong smell of weed and you laying flat on your back upon your bed, staring up at the ceiling as your eyes darted here there and everywhere with childlike wonder as though you were seeing something he wasn’t.
Marijuana induced hallucinations. He assumed.
Still Xavier was happy to have found you somewhere safer then the likes of a hallway or outside in the depths of the forest somewhere. Xavier gently sat himself down on the edge of your bed as to not freak you out and gently tap a finger on the back of your hand.
You would’ve startled but fascinated at the fact that whatever you were seeing floating/ moving before you somehow managed to gain corporeal essence and actually grab you but once you found your solace in Xavier’s hazel eyes, a smile broke out on your face.
“Xavi.” You greeted.
“You nearly had me scared to death y/n. Nobody I knew could say where you were and I was looking for you all over school.” Xavier said as he tightened his hold on your hand. The whole Hyde situation didn’t ease the fear clenching his heart and the idea that there might’ve been the smallest of chances that you could’ve gotten hurt by that thing only made fear grip his heart all that more harder.
You blinked once, then twice, then three times before they furrow hard in concentration at his words before yours instinctually started to well up out of seemingly nowhere, “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t meant to worry you. I tried to text you but that nasty bitch goblin looking mother fucker took it from me.” You then flipped the middle finger to the corner of your room where Xavier assumes this ‘nasty bitch goblin’ was holding your phone hostage when it was on the charging port beside your bed on your desk, but he chose not to say anything about it because you were just too adorable.
“It’s alright baby, now that I know that your okay, all is forgiven. I just over reacted like I always did so I should apologise also for being overbearing due to everything going on recently.” Xavier said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly but was taken aback when you crawled into his lap and cuddled yourself into his chest, squeezing him like he was a overgrown teddy bear. “I’m sorry for making you worry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You chanted into his collar bone. Tightening your grip on his purple hoodie as though he’d slip through your grasp.
“It’s okay baby,” Xavier whispered into your head as he prepped kisses there whilst keeping you close to him as he leant back onto your bed, “no need to apologise.” You were beginning to feel drowsy/fatigued and a little clinger then usual as you buried your head into the crook of Xavier’s neck, hiding your face from view. “I’m sorry.” You said tiredly. “Hi tired, I’m Xavier.” Xavier immediately responds with that made you chuckle a little at his penchant for really, really bad jokes and or puns on par with a middle aged dad.
“Stop, I mean it, I’m sorry for making you worry.” You whined, attempting to hide your smile but it didn’t work when Xavier moved his head and some of his hair that helped aid in covering you from sight. “No my cover!” You gasped aloud when you felt your face being exposed to the light within your room. “You traitor.” You pointed to Xavier’s hair as he only smiled at your pouting look of betrayal.
“I’m sure my hair apologises but your starting to look kinda sleepy, do you want me tuck you into bed and get you something to eat for when you wake up?” Xavier asked and you burrowed yourself in foggy thought for a while before squeaking out your reply. “Yes please.”
“Alright, hop into bed then.” He told you as he then watched as you departed from him to crawl under the covers and the moment your head presses against the pillow, it became gradually harder for you to keep your eyes open. “Get some sleep, I’ll be back soon.” Xavier said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Okay, again I’m sorry for making you worry.” You say softly as Xavier sighs. “I’d rather worry my head off about you then not for it tells me that feelings for you are still as strong as they were when I frost saw you.”
He then got up and turned to leave, though not before looking back towards your bed one more time to see you soundly asleep.
#xavier thorpe fic#xavier thorpe fanfic#xavier thorpe imagine#xavier thorpe imagines#xavier thorpe x you#xavier thorpe x reader#Xavier x reader#Xavier x you#Xavier imagine#Xavier imagines#Xavier fic#Xavier fanfic
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your thoughts on the other (popular) yuuji pairings? 👀
How many hours do you have 👀
I love too many Yuuji ships for my own good, honestly. But I'm not much of a multishipper, so everything else comes secondary to goyuu. Buuuut JJK is also the first fandom for which I've liked multiple ships enough to try and write more than just my OTP, so it's safe to say I like these Yuuji ships a hell of a lot.
Putting it under a cut because concision and I are arch-enemies. Also, I don't want to clog up the ship tags with my ramblings, so before you click through, know that this talks about nanayuu, chosoita, itafushi, and sukuita.
Caveat that I've read very, very few JJK fics, so I'll be talking mostly in relation to canon and my own writing.
Here goes, in order of adoration:
Nanami/Yuuji
Their canon dynamic is so good; I love how Yuuji's exuberance contrasts with Nanami's reticence, and more than that, I love how they're both intrinsically kind in a really similar way, even if Nanami's version has been tempered by the harsh realities of their world. Plus, it never gets old just how much Nanami lets Yuuji get away with—I mean, Nanamin, seriously. He protests once and then goes "well, guess I'm Nanamin now." Amazing. Predictably, Shibuya did unholy things to my poor heart. When the "You've got it from here" scene gets animated, I will lose my entire goddamn mind.
That said, I started out liking them platonically, but well, other than vertical incest, there's no relationship dynamic that's safe from my gremlin hands, so I wound up shipping them sooner than later. Specifically, I wrote a goyuu fic with a heavy focus on platonic Nanami&Yuuji and plummeted headfirst into shipping them, so now I've got like three different ideas that's a mix of nanayuu and goyuu. If I don't write at least one of them, someone should punch me.
Chōsō/Yuuji
Listen, brocon just comes very naturally when Chōsō is involved, and it doesn't help that sibling incest with fuckery potential has always lit up my brain (Sam/Dean from SPN, Vash/Knives from Trigun, etc.). What I like about their canon relationship is the...imbalance that's kind of there, especially at the beginning. Chōsō has family revelations after hallucinating one near-death-experience-induced (and Yuuji's NDE at that) picnic scene and is immediately ride or die, while Yuuji's just there going "???" He's treated complete strangers with more delicacy than he affords Chōsō when they're alone in Shibuya, which makes perfect sense given the circumstances and Yuuji's mental state at the time. And even once Yuuji seems to remember his "mum" and realize Chōsō is his brother, there's the distinct sense that Chōsō's attachment is a hell of a lot more intense and more explicitly connected to the blood relation, as opposed to Yuuji's usual warmth to an ally and friend. And that contrast of complete, immediate devotion and cautious, burgeoning affection makes me want to do unholy things to them both.
Which is why Chōsō is currently getting enthusiastically eaten and eaten out by Yuuji in my Word document. It's not even subtle as far as metaphors go.
Megumi/Yuuji
A friend described my thing for this as a "tiny, doting crush," and it's pretty accurate. Canon sells this pretty hard from the get-go, and something that struck me is that, a lot of the time when you have a shonen hero who's dragged into a new world, it's a female character, usually the future love interest/main heroine/first girl, that does it. In JJK, you have Megumi in that role—fun all over. Also, the narrative is highly consistent about highlighting both of their complicated feelings about their involvement in the other's current predicament. Their interactions are also interesting from the beginning, both the lighthearted moments and the heavier stuff. And the manga panel split between a freshly Sukunafied Megumi and a very horrified Yuuji remains one of my favorites.
Thing is, since canon feeds me pretty well in terms of this ship, I don't feel much of an urge to read or write it. I have one(1) idea that's a mix of goyuu+gofushi+itafushi+goitafushi (it's...complicated), but it's pretty low on the priority list.
Sukuna/Yuuji
I'll be frank: I want to like this ship a lot more than I actually do. And that's mostly because Sukuna is a bit hit-and-miss for me. There are parts in the story where I've loved him and parts where I wanted to step on his face—not in the fun way either. And ever since he took over Megumi, I've been in "step on his face" mode. Their canon relationship appeals to me mostly because Sukuna brings out a side of Yuuji that only Mahito has managed, and their scant interactions while sharing a mind and body were pretty interesting. The blend of hostility and humor was nice, and I kind of like that there's pretty much zero chance of it getting resolved like with, say, Kurama and Naruto.
Anyway, I do see a lot of potential in this ship for hate sex, except what I'd like to see is a very specific dynamic that I haven't been able to find—and one that's complicated enough that I'm not sure I could write it either. I might try some day, especially if inspiration strikes.
Thanks for asking, anon ❤
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Okay but why does the “sigma alpha wolf” dude have so much potential for a good OC???
Like, imagine wolf dude actually has schizophrenia, bipolar, psychosis, or some other hallucination inducing disorder???
Me and a friend were joking around. I was pretending to be the alpha wolf guy and she was my “kitten.”
…it ended up progressing to necrophilia and cannibalism. I’m actually here for it, though!
Now making art of this new found character of mine, Jacob 😓😓
—I’m getting into his story. Everything is fairly vague and just a summary of his lore, there’s still murder, gore, running away, delusions, hallucinations, necrophilia, cannibalism, and suicide—
Basically he deemed himself to be a red wolf alpha. He believed it with his whole heart, too. Recently, he found out that the red wolf population was growing after near extinction. He knew his role. He knew (had a delusion) that he was placed with his human parents so his species would be farther from extinction.
Now that red wolves were under protection and were growing… he knew it was him time to go. He ran away from his home, and started making his way to the red wolf reservation in Ohio. (He lives in Organ btw)
He was caught by the police, though. He believed his human girlfriend (“kitten”) was the one who reported him to the police and betrayed him. (He actually has no girlfriend that was another delusion)
When he was safely at home, he almost immediately suck out again. He went to his kitten’s house. (Remember, he has no “kitten.” This is just a poor random woman’s house (her husband was coincidentally away))
What follows next are taken directly from the joke messages between me and my friend:
“‘K-KITTEN??? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?? I THOUGHT WE WERE 4LIFERS!!’
‘WE-‘
‘WE WATCHED SKIBIDI TOILET TOGETHER, SANG THE SONG, DRANK GRIMACE SHAKES TOGETHER, ETC!!’
‘THIS IS NOT FUNNY!!’
*alpha me scratches you and you die*
‘W-WAIT, NO KITTEN!! I DIDNT MEAN TO! WAKE UP!! PLEASE!! NO!!!!! MY OHIO LEVEL THREE GYAT ONE TWO BUCKLE MY SHOE LIGHTSKIN STARE KITTEN!!’
‘NOOOOOOOOOOO!!’
‘IM SO SORRY!!!! WAKE UP, PLEASE!!’
‘… i hurt my kitten, the one i swore to protect no matter the cost. i'm so sorry kitten. daddy loves you.’”
The next message is very long and detailed so I’ll summarize it.
Alpha guy apologizes and kisses kitten “one last time”
Although this was meant to be a goodbye kiss, he can’t seem to stop. He looks at the cut his claws made (stab wound) and then looks at his paws (hands.) It felt so weird. Her blood on him and his fur (small strands of hair) on her body.
They were one… why did he do this? She was his other half, and he just killed her! Maybe… maybe this lust he felt for her dead corpse was his subconscious trying to regain its missing half…
*long story short he fucks the corpse*
He cleaned himself up, wanting to cry but that would be very un-alpha of him. He felt as empty as before. His half still wasn’t with her. Then… he got an idea. A way he could always be with his kitten.
He started slowly eating the corpse. Saying things like “don’t worry, kitten. We’ll be one soon.”
Of course, he threw up barely mid-way through. He tried eating his own vomit back up, then tried to proceed eating, but he just kept throwing up. He also knew that if he waited too long, he would have to take a dump. But at the same time… he was willing to eat his own shit to have his kitten inside him.
He ended up trying that idea, and guess what? He kept throwing up. He was already half-dead from food poisoning, and he finished himself off out of despair.
As he faded away into whatever you think is the aftermath of death, he looked at her face. The thing he was going to eat last. It was a face that wasn’t his kittens.
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Prompt: filler scene for how lea finds out about Lena protecting her in the finale from Andrea because unless Lena says something there’s no way she would know
Returning from the Phantom Zone is harder than Kara expects it to be. She’s already done it once, so this time should be easier. It isn’t. Her bones hold a perpetual chill, and the normalcy that quickly settles over her friend group keeps her wondering when the hallucination is finally going to end. She doesn’t trust it to last. How could she, when she has seen it countless times before? How can she when each time her happiness and relief inevitably ends in pain and blood and death?
The worst of it is Lena.
Lena, so hesitant and beautiful and sad, lingering in a state of in between. She’s found her place among the Superfriends, that much is apparent even to Kara. What’s less apparent is where she fits with Kara. Kara feels Lena’s need to reconnect, a need reciprocated deep in Kara’s chest, but Kara keeps her distance.
Even if this Lena is real, safe from whatever violent end that would befall her in Kara’s phantom-induced dreams, so much has transpired between them. So much pain and heartache that Kara can’t bring herself to face– so much doubt as to whether Lena won’t hurt her again. If she does, if it all falls apart again… Kara doesn’t know if she could survive it.
Kara mentions her apprehension to her sister one night, when Alex observes how distant she’s been with Lena. Lena, who has proven herself time and again since Kara was banished, only Kara wasn’t around to see it.
Alex grows quiet, then beckons to Kara. “There’s something you need to see.”
Alex sits her laptop in front of Kara, logging in and pulling up a video saved in its own separate folder on the hard drive. The video loads to an image of Lena’s lab at LuthorCorp. She recognizes herself reclined in the chair she’d used to communicate in the virtual reality, and sees Lena nearly off screen, monitoring her status.
“Alex…”
She was there– she doesn’t need a replay of that awkward handshake they’d shared when they’d agreed to bygones.
“Just… watch.”
When Alex presses play, Kara waits for herself to wake up. But that’s not what happens. She almost gasps when Acrata steps into frame, a sharp shard of something green gripped tight in her fist.
Kryptonite.
But faster than the bile that rises in Kara’s throat, Lena is there, stepping between Supergirl and her would-be killer without hesitation. Words are spoken– there’s audio, but Kara doesn’t hear. All she can process is the way Lena’s chin lifts, baring her throat to the jagged shard that could tear through her skin as easily as Supergirl’s. All she can see is the way Lena plants her feet, her stance strong and immovable… Kara doesn’t hear, but she knows what Lena says.
Lena would die before letting Acrata anywhere near Kara.
Kara’s breath catches in her chest, and suddenly she can’t breathe past the weight of what she’s seeing.
“Brainy pulled the footage before he left LuthorCorp,” Alex explains softly. “She was willing to give her life for you, Kara. And while you were gone– when I say she never stopped working to get you back, I mean ceaselessly. We had to force her to take breaks.”
Kara doesn’t respond. She can’t.
Alex takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “I know you guys have a lot to work through,” she continues, “and I know it can be scary to trust someone who’s hurt you. But from what I’ve seen– Lena’s not going anywhere. She’s still here, and would move heaven and earth to keep you safe.”
Kara sits silently for a long moment, eyes glued to where the screen has paused, with the jagged point of the kryptonite dagger perilously close to Lena’s throat. Where Lena fixes Acrata with an implacable stare that seems to say me first.
“I need to go,” Kara stammers finally, rising onto shaking legs. Alex nods in understanding, and the next thing KAra knows she’s standing in front of Lena’s apartment door. She stands there for an interminable moment, before her hand finally lifts and raps a hesitant knock against the surface.
It takes a moment, but finally the deadbolt slides back and the door opens, revealing Lena in soft yoga pants and a loose t-shirt that’s slipped off one shoulder.
“Kara,” Lena greets in a low voice. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she runs a hand through it self-consciously. “Is everything okay?”
Kara takes a deep breath, and dives.
“Can we talk?”
//prompts are closed
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AutoMemoriam (part 1)
It is with deep sadness and reluctance that I am today writing this journal, I hope someday it may bring me solace. The idea of putting this into writing is wicked; it brings absolution to the events I wish to deny but it must be done for thinking all this to be delusion will mean I will be truly forgotten, even by myself. Last week (March 15, 3071)—while searching through the deep catacombs of Exo-planet Copper9—I Tessa James Elliot, daughter and lone heir of Sir James Elliot, died.
I am not a spectre nor do I believe in such frivolities but I must assure you that I have in fact experienced death. Now I shall bring forth the events that transpired, no matter how much traumatic pain it may induce. Underground, in the mines, we (myself, two of my allyship, and one friend) arrived at a cathedral; gothic in design yet inhuman in its details—its creation still eludes me. Out front, in the graveyard, ensnared in thick metal chain lay resting two sentinels with their jagged teeth tightly wrapped around a dismembered arm. It was best if they were left unbothered. The front door, locked, or quite possibly too heavy in its heavy oak build to be moved even with the support of my strongest allies; Carved into the hardened wood read the message:
non est locus iste honoris. Diabolus hic dormit.
We took it to find an alternate entrance, I prohibited damaging this relic believing we could find a secondary entrance or broken window large enough to allow myself and my allyship to climb through. Outside, the harsh scent of incense burned, my allyship unaware at the time but I found it utterly dizzying and soon I lost all sense of direction or awareness collapsing to the ground. I assure the reader at this point this was not my near death experience, that was still to come. Eventually I did awake, much later than anyone would desire as I felt myself to be well rested and my companions had set up a fire—what were they burning, I hope nothing of importance. The stench of incense had now at this point died down to a manageable extent but that wasn’t the last of my bothers, the once resting guards now were howling aggressively pulling against heavy chains relentlessly. If they could not kill us, they’de give us no peace. Did they forget that I, as a human, am there superior?
Examining around I found I was connected to the emergency ventilator, it seems my respirator had broken (or tampered) leading me to intake the more harmful chemicals in the air, the incense smell was ever hallucinogenic or coincidental to the cause as I had been to many chapels before without much of a reaction. My vibrant energy reassured that I'd suffered little permanent damage although that was still an impossibility. Continuing my line of good fortune, that friend I mentioned earlier had found a loose rock, engraved with vivid imagery of burning angels, which when moved uncovered a small tunnel seemingly leading into the heart of the cathedral. They made sure to wait for me before advancing to which I was grateful but I can still not trust that girl; her eyes have the glimmer of a demons, in the corner of my eye I’m sure she transforms. If the devil lays dormant, it is within the girl—but I cannot kill her, she has caught the fancy of my allyship and has a mind unlike anyone else.
Being the most nimble and disposable, I made sure the girl took the lead with myself following behind alone; my allyship too large in stature to fit in the crevice so told to stay behind. The crevice was—to put it lightly—a cesspit for rats, not that any of those vermin had been down here in decades, the droppings had notably whitened from age but remained sludgy from the incessant moisture. The tunnel was impossibly long or witchcraft was afoot, again I am not one for superstition but I must say the warning Diabolus hic dormit began eating away at my most common of senses. Things only gotten worse when I fear hallucinations were coming over me, the sounds of a organ echoed around (slow and rhythmic with subtle errors implying the ill-practised hand); it wasn’t until the girl, who to put it light—who being polite only in the contemporary forms of media—began to complain. Her whining had never made me want her dead more.
Soon, we had made it free, entering the central hall we found the central floor had collapsed into a deep cavern below full of thick black stalagmites which in the flickering candlelight appeared to be pulsating like the entrails of a suffering beast. I truly felt that I was staring into the depths of hell. Across, on the other side of the cavern, sitting at the organ slumped was a person I recognised immediately, the local one eyed foreign girl, a native of this planet. When I first landed, it was she who first found me and my allyship, she speaks not a word of English even though her understanding is superb; I took aid from my allyship who were far more polylingual to keep translation. Bleeding out of her shoulder where once her arm was attached, she seemed to be in great pain yet continued to play; she made no indication that she had seen us but for reasons which will be made apparent shortly, she was well aware of our presence.
Not yet.
I had a job to do and even Heaven would not deny the fact that this girl, the spawn of satan she is, was valuable; more so that if Doll (the strange character mentioned earlier sitting on the chasms other side—I speculate Doll is a cruel nickname relating to the button strapped over her missing eye) was to attack me alone, I would have no chance. The girl lives for now.
“Don’t stand too close” I warned as she approached the edge.
What was my duty here? That girl wished to learn the truth; Doll wished to know her mother; my allyship were down here on my command alone; in truth not one knew why we were here. All I knew was something here was desired by the Sin and so I was here on a path of destruction, the Sin cannot win again. Said object (or perhaps it was a place or even a metaphor) could be activated with a key, said key last seen being in the possession of Doll… what is she doing? Had she found what the Sin was looking for? Was she disappointed?
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Feel like we need to ramp up the angst so when you can piggybacking off of my last request, M6 when MC has a horrible flare up ft. a lengthy bout of high fever + memories/hallucinations of being burned at the Lazaret. For a lil fluff the first thing they do when the fever breaks is call for the M6.
Tumblr user dameschnee123 your thirst for angst has been feeding the little Angst Beast that lives in my soul and for that I thank you
I also decided to go the mini-fic route this time instead of a list of hcs and since that’s kind of long I’m gonna do this in batches! The tracks I listened to while writing each story is linked beside the names.
Arcana LIs Tending to Red Plague Trauma Flashbacks (Part 1: Asra & Nadia)
DNI
C & TWs include:
All: Angst, sad/bittersweet endings at best, discussion of trauma/traumatic events.
Asra: minor su*c*dal ideation, unreality, implied mass death by burning.
Nadia: needles/injection, poor bedside manner, trauma-induced panic attack.
Part 2 | Part 3 (WIP)
🔮 Asra (x)
He hears the screams from all the way down the street. Without a moment's hesitation they duck out of the conversation he had been having with the baker and makes a mad dash for the shop you share.
A few people have already gathered outside of the house, their faces all plastered with fear as they mutter amongst themselves. Asra doesn't care about their muttering as he barrels into the shop.
As they run upstairs to the apartment he reaches into his bag, letting Faust slither up their arm and rest over their shoulders. "I'm coming, MC!" He yells once they reach the top. Grabbing the wall, he swings around the corner and into your room and their stomach drops.
When he left earlier, they had just brought you to bed for a rest. You had a flare-up that morning at breakfast and he had to basically beg you to stay behind while they did the shopping for the week. Last he'd seen you, you were all tucked up and getting ready for a nap.
Now, the sheet was completely off the bed, scattered across the floor. The pillow under your head is drenched with sweat, and your hair tangled from tossing and turning. One of your hands clutches at the mattress beneath you with a grip so tight Asra is surprised the sheet hasn't ripped yet. Your other hand is wrapped around your throat, grasping as if you're suffocating.
Asra steels himself, rushing to your bedside and taking the hand on your neck in theirs and bringing it to his chest. "MC! MC, it's alright, I'm right here!" they try to make himself heard over your agonizing screams, but it's a useless effort.
They press his free hand to your forehead and recoils near instantly. You're hot as a stove to the touch, and instantly everything falls into place in Asra's mind. You're hallucinating, and you're hallucinating bad.
Asra wracks his brain for something to do to help. They could go downstairs and get water to try and wake you up but the shock might just make it worse and even then he didn't want to leave you alone again like this. They try desperately to think of some kind of solution but he can barely hear their own thoughts over your cries of anguish. It feels as though your cries could split his head in two.
That's when the idea hits them. Quickly, he lets Faust slither off of their shoulder and onto the headboard behind you. Faust curls over herself tightly, tucking her head between the loops of her lavender body and letting only her nose stick out for air.
"Stay there, Faust, I'll be right back." Asra assures her before mustering up all the courage and magic he can get a hold of and pressing his forehead against yours.
Instantly Asra's consciousness is thrown into your own. The energy around him is frantic and red with stress, zipping every which way, trying desperately to form some sort of image to go with the pain searing through your body. Asra steps and turns from side to side, trying to avoid getting hit by the fragments of memory flitting about him like a swarm of flies. An especially large fragment manages to clip Asra at the hip, sending him ass-over-teakettle backwards.
When they land, he’s greeted with the familiar texture of sand, but the sand isn’t still like it should be. As they brush the sand off his face they notice how the sand seems to jitter in place, like each individual grain is a wild animal tied down with some invisible chain. He raises their head and looks around to try and make sense of where he’s landed.
The entire world is trembling like the sand beneath their feet. He can make out vague outlines of Vesuvia in the distance, across a sea of tempestuous dark water. They would recognize the view from anywhere, once he turns around, it confirms it. This is your final memory before you died. When you were sick on the Lazaret in quarantine.
Asra sets to patrolling the beach. Their feet keep slipping in the sand, threatening to give out, but his sheer determination to find you keeps them from falling. A few meters from where he started, Asra sees the outline of the hospital building past the line of dark trees and brambles, and their heart starts to pound in his ears. You must be back there, inside the building.
They push through the trembling black brush of the Lazaret, following the pull of your energy further into the island. As he approaches the old hospital the world around them becomes more and more abstract. Trees become gnarled black shapes reaching towards the blood red sunset and the ground beneath his feet feels like it could give out at any second. A primal terror creeps at the edge of Asra’s senses, but they force himself right to the front steps of the building.
Asra scrambles up the stairs and throws themself against the heavy door, nearly landing face-first inside. Instantly he’s overwhelmed with the feeling of fear. The pressure of it alone brings them to his knees in the entry way, their heart pounding even harder in his chest now, almost like it’s preparing to tear itself out and save itself from the horrors that lie inside the hospital.
“M…MC…” he wheezes, any courage in their body completely drained from his spirit. The logical part of their brain is begging Asra to turn around. To leave your mind and save himself before they dies here, too, but the other part of him knows that they can’t leave you here alone. Not again. Trembling, Asra brings a hand forward, clutching at the floor and dragging themself further inside. His chest feels like it’s going to collapse into dust as they slowly creep along the floor. Tears of pain blur his vision and pour down their cheeks, and the muscles in his arms sting with effort despite not moving that far.
Asra begins to feel his consciousness slipping as they desperately crawl towards the dark doorway at the back of the room. Voices from nowhere in particular begin to ring in his ears as they gaze at the void on the other side of the doorframe. The only words they can make out in the babbling are “sick,” “others,” and “downstairs.”
Vibrations travel through the floor closer to Asra’s weakened body, and before he can turn to see what’s approaching, they’re suddenly grabbed by the ribs and thrown over someone’s shoulder. The shock of the movement temporarily shocks lucidity back into his body. Immediately they meet the eyes of a tall, humanoid figure in front of his face. They see that the figure is dressed completely in white and through the blur of the world, Asra can distinguish that they have their hair covered and tied up in two cones like the horns of The Devil itself.
“Quickly now, quickly!” The figure tuts, steepling their fingers and following close behind as Asra is carried straight to the dark doorway. “There might still be time to toss this one in with the others.”
“V…Valdemar..?” Asra nearly chokes on the Quaestor’s name as recognition seeps into his head.
The figure is too blurry to make out an expression, but Asra can feel the wicked smile coming from them beneath the growing layer of static.
“Hang on!” A deep voice rings out from behind Asra’s head. It must be the voice of the person carrying him; it echoes and rattles inside the magician’s skull taking up space he doesn’t have. “We have one more!”
“Bring them down!” A higher voice responds from past the dark doorway.
Asra clutches at the doctor’s uniform, their fingers barely able to close all the way around the scratchy white fabric. “Please… just… MC…” he sobs, “I need… home…”
The doctor carrying him ignores the pitiful cries of the magician, crossing the threshold of the doorway and starting down a steep staircase. Valdemar only watches with growing gleeful malice from the top of the stairs, absentmindedly tapping the handle of one of the surgical tools on their belt.
The scattered voices from before grow louder the deeper down Asra is taken and the darkness overtakes his vision completely until they make it to the basement. A menacing red light casts long shadows against the wall. Asra can see the shaky outlines of people swaddled in cloth holding tightly onto each other or themselves. He scans each shadow, looking desperately for your silhouette against the stone walls.
Their search is interrupted as he’s thrown to the ground near the source of the red light. The wind is forced out of their lungs on impact and his vision goes blurry as the crushing fear threatens to overtake them completely. The scattered questions and quiet panic of the figures around him pierce through their heart and he can’t even find the strength to call for you once more. They came all this way to find you, to soothe whatever terror had come back to haunt you, but it was all too much to get through. Tears grow once more in his eyes as they curl up on the stone floor, surrendering completely to the hopelessness of the Lazaret. If he couldn’t even protect you from a memory, how could Asra ever keep you safe from anything else?
“…ra? …sra?”
Suddenly the darkness seems to wash away. The heat of the red light cools into an autumn breeze, and the only pressure Asra can feel is a hand in his. Slowly, they open his eyes.
“Master.”
They’re back home. He’s in your room, sitting beside you on the bed, clutching your hand tightly in theirs. Air fills his lungs once more as they meet your eyes. You’re still covered in sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead and neck, and your voice is hoarse when you speak.
“Master, what happened?”
Asra blinks for the first time in what feels like ages, and he feels two large tears run down their face. “N-Nothing, MC,” he lies through their teeth, “You were having a nightmare., that's all.”
You don’t seem to completely buy it, but you don’t say anything. “My head’s killing me…”
“I’ll get you some water.” He shakily rises from the bed, but stumbles once they try to put weight on his legs.
“Master!” You cry, sitting up straight now.
“Fine! I’m fine.” They quickly reassure you, thudding back onto the mattress. “Sorry, just a little light-headed.” For a moment he considers correcting you, but you've been through enough already without them getting annoyed at the title.
He tries to remember all of what they saw in your head, but the memories all twist and turn in his psyche and won’t give a clear picture. The only thing they can remember is that overwhelming sense of fear that overtook him at the end.
Asra’s brought out of their thoughts when he feels your head against their shoulder. Faust follows suit, slithering down from her perch on the headboard and up Asra’s arm to rest her cool scales against his neck. Carefully, Asra runs their fingers through your hair, carefully detangling any knots that snag on his fingertips.
The three of you sit in silence together for hours, not moving an inch or speaking a word. Eventually sleep works it’s magic and settles you all into it’s comforting embrace, and you’re blessed with dreamless rest for the rest of the night.
👑 Nadia (x)
The two of you are out on the veranda together, enjoying the cool but sunny Spring weather. Normally on rough days like this, you're inside in bed, but Nadia thought it would be nice for you to get some fresh air to help calm your nerves. You both sit on the most comfortable lounge chairs in the palace, with a soothing local tea well within arm's reach.
Nadia has been regaling you with stories from the court, the current tale being a recount of an incident involving the Praetor, Vlastomil. “…and of course we couldn’t proceed another moment with the meeting until he finished dumping his worms back into their bowl. I’m well aware that those creatures have their place in nature but I’m quite sure that place isn’t on my carpet.” The Countess sips her tea as you chuckle to yourself from across the table.
She smiles proudly to herself as she drinks. A part of her is glad she can still make you laugh even if you aren’t feeling your best.
“Nadia, do you feel hot at all?”
The Countess sets her teacup carefully on its saucer as she turns her head to look at you. “Not particularly, no.” A small twinge of panic strikes her heart. “Do you?”
“A little, yeah.” You brace an arm against the table and lift yourself from the couch. The tabletop rattles slightly with the pressure and sends a painful bolt through your skull. Instantly, you cradle your head with your free hand, groaning in response to the pain and rising heat.
Nadia quickly rises from her seat, gathering her skirt in one hand as she rounds the table to your side. “Come, along, MC, let’s get you inside,” she speaks softly, remembering how the doctor told her to remain calm during flare-ups, no matter how frightened she might be.
The Countess reaches to take your arm but her fingertips barely touch you before you retreat. “Don’t touch me!” You raise your voice, the sudden shift in tone taking Nadia aback. Your retreat from her causes you to loose balance and send you to the floor of the veranda in a heap, your hand knocking your teacup down with you as it slides across the tabletop.
Nadia’s heart lodges in her throat. You’ve never raised your voice to her before, and it was filled with a frightened venom she had never heard come from anyone in her life. “D… DOCTOR!” She cries over her shoulder as she kneels beside you, hurriedly swiping the shattered teacup away with a hand before you roll onto any of the broken pieces.
“I-It’s alright, MC, I won’t leave you here by yourself.” The Countess’s voice trembles despite her efforts to sound calm. “T-Try to breathe, now.”
“Don’t… no..! Let me go, no!” You struggle on the floor, too weak to stand and run away when Nadia tries to cradle your head off of the floor.
“Please, gods— DOCTOR, HELP!” Nadia cries again into the palace, not moving from your side. “Someone will come, I promise.”
Nadia sits beside you, helpless as you cry and scream with a pain that cuts through the Countess like a knife. Tears begin to well up in her own eyes before she hears the sound of footsteps on the tile behind her.
“You called?” chimes a raspy voice from behind the Countess. Quickly, Nadia wipes away the welling tears and looks back over her shoulder. By the table stands the Quaestor Valdemar, an amused expression spread across their face like a mask.
The Countess’s heart sinks at the sight of the courtier. “Where’s Doctor De Luca?” She had hired him specifically to avoid whatever Valdemar called “treatment," he was supposed to be available at any time for this.
“Pre-occupied in town.”
“No, no..! Stay away, no!” You shriek upon hearing the Quaestor’s voice, “don’t… not again!” Desperate, you cling to Nadia’s arm and shake, continuing to yell and plead to be left where you were despite the throbbing pain in your head.
“Seems someone has a rather awful fever, don’t they?” Valdemar’s head cocks mechanically to one side, as they approach you and the Countess on the ground. They bend forward at the hip, their face only a foot or so from yours.
You cower against Nadia, clutching onto her sleeve to try and pull yourself up and away from the menacing gaze of the Quaestor. Nadia quickly wraps her arms around you, holding you against her chest. “You will step away this instant!” Nadia orders, her courage returning.
Valdemar flashes a frown before returning to a stock stiff upright position. “I apologize, Countess, I thought my abilities would be quite useful here. After all, fevers like this don't just go away on their own."
Nadia's stomach drops. They're right, of course, but the intense reaction you have to the Quaestor's presence isn't exactly comforting. Then of course, you didn't want her to touch you either but that changed the moment Valdemar appeared and goodness how long has you voice been hoarse from the screaming now?
"I'm sorry, my love," Nadia relents, holding your head against hers. She fights back more tears as she shifts her sharp gaze to the councilor. "Do as you must, Quaestor Valdemar."
"With pleasure." They grin. Valdemar stiffly reaches into the pocket of their apron, instantly producing a large brass needle with a glass window on the side. Valdemar flicks the side of the syringe and pushes the plunger forward a notch or two, letting the gaudy red medicine inside spurt a few viscous drops onto the tile of the veranda.
Nadia holds you tightly by the shoulders, watching Valdemar intently as they grab the arm you raised to strike them away with. "And three, two!" on the implied "one" they jab the needle into the vein running from your wrist up your arm. You squirm and beg against Valdemar's grasp but they hold your arm tight and still as they inject the medicine into your vein. "Just a sedative, nothing to worry about."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Nadia mutters against your hair, trying to keep you from rolling out of her arms and onto the floor. "It's over now, it's over." Her tone is soft but her red eyes burn like fire, never leaving Valdemar as they withdraw the needle from your arm and tuck it back into their apron.
The Quaestor's spine cracks as they stand up and step away from you and Nadia. With a content roll of their shoulders and neck, they steeple their fingers and smile to themself. "They should be fine now, but bring them back inside. Who knows what else the cold air could do to them."
The Countess watches Valdemar leave until they're completely out of sight, then her attention is completely back on you. You're still trying to struggle against her, but whatever was in that sedative was working fast and you're unconscious in Nadia's arms in less than a minute.
She sits with you for while, maybe an hour or so, before calling for Portia.
"M-Milady! What happened?"
"A fainting spell, nothing to worry about," The Countess reassures her handmaiden a little too quickly. "Please call for someone to bring MC back to their chambers and wait with them until assistance arrives."
"Yes, Milady, right away." Portia nods, rushing back into the palace. After a few minutes she returns to take Nadia's place as your guard while the Countess marches inside, her skirt gathered in her left fist to keep from tripping.
She doesn't bother to change out of her lounge wear as she makes her way to the Quaestor's office. Nadia stops outside the door, pausing for a moment to listen for any signs of life on the other side of the carved mahogany. A soft humming on the other side confirms that Valdemar is indeed working, and without so much as a knock the Countess enters.
Valdemar is standing behind a worn-out desk, bent at the hip over an armful of old looking scrolls. The desk's accompanying chair is propped up in the corner with a stack of papers on top of the seat. Their vacant red eyes instantly meet the Countess', and she notices a small glint in their pupils. Of pride, possibly?
"Hello again, Countess." Valdemar hums, signing one of the scrolls without looking. "Is something the matter with our patient?"
"They're resting in their chambers. I myself saw to it."
"Good, good..."
"MC is not your patient."
Valdemar stifles an even wider smile, but their eyes don't wrinkle up like they're supposed to when someone smiles that big. "I would have to disagree, Countess, considering I just eased a rather nasty fever that Doctor De Luca wasn't present for."
The Countess narrows her eyes, leering down her strong nose at Valdemar. "Your assistance was a single instance in an emergency, and for that I thank you, but do not think that you will be privy to MC's health going forward."
The corner of Valdemar's lip twitches, but the smile remains. "If you so insist, Countess Nadia."
She nods her head firmly before turning on her heel and exiting the office back into the hallway. She pretends not to hear the Quaestor's muttering.
Nadia sighs as the door shuts behind her, letting her shoulders relax and her jaw unclench. She was unsure of why she felt so strongly about Valdemar tending to you, but she knew first hand it was best to trust her instincts on these things.
Slowly, she makes her way back to your room. You're still unconscious, but Portia is standing by your headboard, watching diligently for you to come to.
Nadia rests her hand on Portia's shoulder, startling her slightly. "Did I frighten you?"
"Oh, not at all, Milady," Portia sighs, letting her head tilt back behind her shoulders as she recovers, "I just didn't hear you come in. Would you like a chair brought in for you?"
"I'm alright, thank you." Nadia pars her handmaiden's shoulder before gently waving towards the door. "Leave us now, if you would. I'll watch MC while you rest."
"Yes, Milady," Portia nods. She looks down at you one last time before leaving, the light from the window reflecting off a dried tear track that runs from her eye to her chin. Carefully she steps around Nadia and slips out of your room into the hallway, carefully shutting the door behind her.
Nadia braces her right arm against the bedframe, reaching with her left to remove her sandals. She's halfway through the laces on her second shoe when she hears you stirring under the covers. "MC?"
"Nadia? What happened..?" Your voice is groggy and your eyes stare vacantly at the ceiling having not found the energy to focus on anything in particular yet. "Did I pass out?"
Nadia bites her tongue, trying to decide if she should tell you the details of your panic attack. It feels awful leaving you in the dark, but she decides against it. For now at least. Once you're doing better she'll tell you everything. "Yes, I had you brought in to rest."
"I see..." You shift under the covers, bracing yourself and sitting upright. Your posture slouches forward and you prop your head in your hands. "I promise your story wasn't that boring."
Nadia snorts. It's relieving to know you feel well enough to joke after that whole experience. "If ever a tale is that boring, please just say so."
She sits on the mattress beside you, brushing your hair out of your face. "I promise," you smile, leaning into her touch. "Sorry if I made you worry."
"There's nothing to be sorry for!" Nadia assures you, a little scandalized at the idea, "it's not something you have control over. Now... if you would move over a little, I would like to lay beside you a while."
You wordlessly oblige, smiling as Nadia takes off her untied sandals and settles in over the covers beside you. Once she's comfortable you lie down and lean against her. You can feel the Countess' heart beating next to your ear, gently lulling you back to sleep as she holds you safely in her arms.
#Rosie Writes#I don’t know when the other two parts will be released#but they are coming!#The Arcana#Angst#tw: trauma#Asra Alnazar#Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush#tw: suicidal ideation#cw: unreality#tw: death by burning#< implied#Nadia Satrinava#Washing Machine Heart by Mitski#tw: needles#tw: injection#cw: panic attack#Quaestor Valdemar
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Near-Death
Pairing: Jesper Fahey x reader
Requested by Anonymous
Summary: A near-death experience yields an unexpected result...
You didn’t know it was possible to feel this much pain. But the knife wound in your belly had shown you a whole new level of agony, and it took everything in you to keep walking, to keep dragging one foot in front of the other, to get back to the Slat. Your hand was pressed against your wound, trying to keep pressure on it to prevent yourself from bleeding out, but judging by the black spots swimming before your vision, you weren’t doing a very good job.
And the funniest thing: you were worried you wouldn’t get to see Jesper again. Jesper, the man you’d had a crush on for years but had been too shy and afraid to say anything. Of everyone you wouldn’t see again if you didn’t make it; your parents, your family, your childhood best friend, it was Jesper you longed for. Muscle memory guided you to the Slat, and as soon as you were through the door, you collapsed.
“Y/N!” You couldn’t lift your head to see who it was, but when their arms closed around you, you knew. You’d know Jesper’s scent anywhere. “Oh Ghezen that’s a lot of blood.” Jesper hauled you to the couch, lying you on your back and pulling up your shirt. When he spoke next, his voice was low and dangerous. “Who did this to you?” “J-Jesper, I-” “Who did this, Y/N?”
“Ray,” you whezed, and Jesper audibly growled. “I’ll kill him,” he said, crossing the room and returning a moment later with a first aid kit, one of the many stashed around the Slat. “Oh Saints, I don’t know how to do this,” Jesper said, mostly to himself. He was no medik, but he’d watched Nina and Inej enough to have a basic idea of what to do. He packed the wound with sterile gauze, which made you scream, which in turn made Jesper’s heart break. When he could see what he was working with, he removed the gauze and replaced it with fresh gauze, which he soaked with water.
It wasn’t proper, but until Nina returned, it would do. Jesper then wound bandages around your abdomen, securing the gauze in the wound. You were woozy, the pain in your belly radiating to every part of your body, and all you wanted to do was close your eyes. “I’m gonna go take care of Ray,” Jesper said, checking the chambers of his revolvers, and you tried to sit up, which sent a wave of nausea and dizziness over you. “No, no, you stay right there. Nina will be home soon, and she’ll patch you up. But I have to go.”
“Why?” you rasped, and you were nearly certain that the blood loss had you hallucinating. “Because I love you,” Jesper whispered, and he was gone. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your eyes open. As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you mulled over Jesper’s words. Because I love you, was that read? Or was that just blood-loss-induced delusions?
A while later, you weren’t sure how long, you woke to Nina pulling the gauze from the wound. You moaned, and Nina shushed you, moving her hands over your abdomen, cleaning and healing the wound. “Where’s Jesper?” you asked, and Nina shook her head. “Cleaning the blood off his hands.” You sighed, and when Nina finished her work, she righted your shirt. “I���ll tell him you want to see him.”
The Heartrender disappeared up the stairs, and a moment later, Jespr flew down them. “Y/N!” he cried, skidding to a halt at your side. “You’re okay!” He took your hand, and without thinking, pressed a lingering kiss to it. “I’m okay,” you agreed. “But I have to ask you something.” “Anything.” “Did you say you love me earlier?” Jesper went ashen, and he bit his lip. “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that,” he said, and you laughed.
“Nope, I remember. And I love you too.” He looked at you with utter shock. “Y-you what?” “I love you, Jesper. As I was hobbling back here, all I could think was that I might never see you again.” Jesper smiled, shaking his head. “So do you want to….maybe…Oh Ghezen, I thought I’d be better at this…” “Yes,” you said, cutting him off. “I’ll go out with you.” Jesper let out a nervous laugh, and he kissed your hand again. “You should get stabbed more often,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t you even go there.”
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« ( Dragon AU - Did You Hear The Beast? ) »
“ Teresa ” - Unknown Dragon Species ( Currently, last of his kind )
“ Dragon Claimed “ - Nnoitra @despairforme
They do not have a name, for they were nearly wiped from the world and left behind nothing but the fear of plague, poison and corrosion of thousands. A species near impossible to find solo, monsters that breath purple clouds and devour wolfsbane like a child with bread. They hunger for little, but they thrive like vermin with bites that make even rats flee. They were a scary species that were told in tells of farm lands and on pathways through woodland thickets. No tree hollow was looked upon without arrow on nook aflame to protect oneself. No unnatural hill was passed without oil and aflame torch at hand.
They were here. Always nearby like a spider awaiting prey to mess up.
And it wasn't even the knowledge of them being in the open, but the silence that shattered with that fear-inducing screech of a roar. You were not safe the moment that rattled the very clouds. Wings were silent, claws devastating and fog that hallucinate to even the most sound of mind. They lingered not, they ate to the bone, they devoured crops, mortal and pet alike.
In books of the draconic monsters, scholars found themselves shuddering at the sight of the demonic offspring. The mayhem of all man, they etched with true depictions of these creatures and within their layers of papers, information grew fast and true. On the tongues of death-touched, on the screams of children left behind, on the bodies of cattle and dogs alike.
[ Monster ] [ Demon ]
[ Dragon ]
body
Monsters the size of twenty-one hands, towering the strongest of draft horse on the field.
Flesh pale to the point of sickly, but marred in the touch of greyish hues that resemble the ripples of a ponds reflection on a wall.
Build slim for a beast of its size, compact and agile - with eight strong limbs! Old descriptions spoke of only four legs, but newer tales on deathbeds croak with the horror of four upper limbs, the secondary set without paw or fin, but instead - folds like a bug. The sharped tip, serrated up the forelimb and strikes with impaling motions upon settling on its pray.
tail
Tail is long, stiff upon its base to half-way point, where the rest of it is cracked like a whip. Another notes bones of uneven crescents settle upon its near tip. Decorative, one is not to sure to say.
wings
Wings of mid-night hues, black and luring to the eye - but broken upon the shimmer of yellow crescents, almost like eyes - multiple more eyes of the beast that watches in the distance. Then when in flight, the moon above pushes through membrane - making it shimmer as if the beast swallows the starry night with each flap.
Wings have a singular bone; that’s sharpened over the years to form a bladed wing. Evolution has it as the factor that they target prey larger than themselves, and thus; through the ages; their bodies have conformed into making their entire frames a sharp weapon. The sturdy yet flexible-jointed bone-blade runs along the length of the Humerus, Radius, Ulna, Radiale, Ulnare, Metacarpus, the Basel & Terminal Phalanx.
These Toxin Beasts are known for swooping & slashing their prey; opening tiny and large wounds for toxin venom and spitting to enter the bloodstream rapidly - whilst also avoiding direct combat.
combat prowess
Deadly Precision, they will attack the neck, tendons, underbelly and nasal passages of their prey. With their combat abilities of being a poison/toxic pest; Teresa is a powerful and smart drake that will make his prey, of a ten times bigger size than himself, bleed out, be poisoned and slowly die a painful and excruciating internal death.
They have the patience of a saint when they hunt; this is one of the major shifts in their temperaments when it comes to getting food. Teresa is capable of waiting WEEKS for a large meal to die upon its own; before having its fill.
The jowls of the beast are hooked in the lip, and the main set of teeth are fierce and small but the roof of the mouth is filled with curved fangs, that latch and penetrate deep. This is where the plague is pumped into the prey. Doused in toxic liquids from glands between each fang, the pouch is released with ease bite - the first bite the most potent.
vocals
Screeches, screamers, mimicry of loud noises that make heads turn.
Toxin Drakes have become even more dangerous with the ability to tighten and loosen vocal cords within their long throats to mimic hundreds of sounds. Be it from a Bird, a Dog’s Bark or even a Human’s scream; they can blend and mix their vocals well on a hunt to throw off their preys every move.
Throat gurgling, hissing, grunting, huffing, chuffing and heavy rumbling from the chest area, are actually signs of affection to their chosen few.
diet
Poisonous plantation
Toxic swamp waters are Junk Food to him; however, they are big fans of infected flesh/meats and contaminated goods.
Raw Meat, Fish and Mammals are fine too.
Human when they are under threat, humans carry a lot of disease so it’s almost a treat if they are already dead / half way on death’s door.
habitat
Often low to the ground, burrows and/or tree houses. Though a violent and flight based species; they are more common to be found at eye-level with most prey species.
eggs
A Toxin Drake’s egg is sturdy; having been laid in high places and with such rough parent units. Though not careless, they are often kicking and nudging the eggs around in their nest to get comfortable with meals and food; thus; having heavy footed parents is a downfall for many creatures.
Toxin Drakes have formed a new egg; an outer shell that is diamond hard, the inner casings filled with a toxic sludge, and under that - the softer shell of the dragon foetus.
Eggs are usually a dark colour; to blend in with the darkness of Tree Holes / Buried dark burrows and in blind spots of more aggressive predators.
© Flight Rising Images & Breed - Mirror / Male&Female and Hatchling.
( Loosely based off! )
Teresa Drake Info - Mine. Please do not copy or re-write this in any form for your own dragon ocs without asking for permission or something, fam.
#« ( Dragon AU - Did You Hear The Beast? ) »#« ( Teresa ) » HC.#yohohohoo uw u#new and better babyyyy
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How To Tell If It's A Magic Mushroom
Magic mushrooms, also known as psychedelic mushrooms or simply "shrooms," have captivated human curiosity for centuries. These fungi contain psychoactive compounds that can induce hallucinations, altered perceptions, and even profound spiritual experiences when consumed. However, not all mushrooms in the wild are magic mushrooms, and identifying them correctly is crucial to ensure your safety and experience. In this article, we will explore the characteristics, tips, and tricks to help you determine whether you've stumbled upon a magic mushroom or a potentially dangerous look-alike.
1. Introduction
Magic mushrooms have a rich history in human cultures, often associated with spiritual or shamanic practices. Before embarking on a journey with these mystical fungi, it's crucial to distinguish them from their non-psychoactive counterparts. Let's delve into the world of magic mushrooms and learn how to identify them.
2. The World of Magic Mushrooms
Magic mushrooms belong to the genus Psilocybe, and there are over 180 known species worldwide. These mushrooms contain psychoactive compounds, primarily psilocybin and psilocin, which can produce profound alterations in perception and consciousness.
3. Physical Characteristics of Magic Mushrooms
Cap Color and Shape
One of the most distinguishing features of magic mushrooms is their cap. They come in various colors, including brown, white, yellow, and even blue or purple. The shape can be convex, conical, or umbonate, and they typically range from 0.5 to 5 centimeters in diameter.
Stem Characteristics
Magic mushroom stems are slender and often cylindrical. They are usually white or light brown in color, with a fibrous texture. The stem is crucial for identifying the species accurately.
4. Spore Print
Obtaining a spore print is a reliable way to confirm the species of a mushroom. A spore print is created by placing the cap, gills down, on a white piece of paper or glass. The spores will drop and leave a pattern that can be used for identification.
5. Gills and Veil
Examine the gills underneath the cap. Magic mushrooms typically have closely spaced, dark-colored gills. Additionally, look for remnants of a veil that once covered the gills. The presence or absence of a veil can be a crucial identifying factor.
6. Habitat and Growing Conditions
Magic mushrooms thrive in specific environments. They often grow in grassy fields, forests, or on decaying wood. Understanding their preferred habitat can help you in your search.
7. Seasonal Availability
Magic mushrooms are more prevalent during certain times of the year. They are most likely to be found in late summer and early autumn, depending on your location.
8. Mushroom Look-alikes
Several mushrooms resemble magic mushrooms but lack the psychoactive compounds. Some of these look-alikes can be toxic and cause harm if ingested. Always err on the side of caution and consult an expert if you are unsure.
9. Safety Precautions
Never consume a wild mushroom without absolute certainty of its identity. Mistaken identity can have severe consequences, including poisoning or death. It is always best to consult an experienced mycologist or field guide.
10. Harvesting and Consumption
If you are certain you've found magic mushrooms, handle them with care. Harvest them by gently twisting or cutting the stem near the base. Start with a small dosage if you are a novice, as the potency can vary between species.
11. Dosage and Effects
Understanding the dosage and expected effects of magic mushrooms is essential for a safe and enjoyable experience. Effects can include euphoria, altered perception of time, and vivid hallucinations.
12. Legal Considerations
The legality of magic mushrooms varies by country and region. Always research and comply with local laws and regulations regarding their possession and use.
13. Cultivation of Magic Mushrooms
For those interested in growing their own magic mushrooms, there are legal and safe ways to cultivate them. However, it requires careful attention to detail and knowledge of the process.
14. Common Myths Debunked
There are many myths and misconceptions surrounding magic mushrooms. We'll debunk some of the most common ones to ensure you have accurate information.
15. Conclusion
Identifying magic mushrooms is a skill that can lead to transformative experiences or help you avoid potential dangers. Always prioritize safety and seek expert guidance when in doubt.
Cosmic Haus is your trusted source for premium magic mushrooms and microdoses of psilocybe mushrooms in Canada. Our commitment to quality, extensive product selection, and discreet shipping make us the preferred choice for individuals seeking the benefits of these remarkable fungi. Explore the world of magic mushrooms responsibly, and experience the positive changes they can bring to your life.
Frequently Asked Questions
Are all mushrooms with psychedelic effects magic mushrooms?
No, not all mushrooms with psychedelic effects are magic mushrooms. It's essential to identify them accurately to ensure your safety.
What should I do if I suspect I've consumed a toxic mushroom?
Seek immediate medical attention and provide as much information as possible about the mushroom you ingested.
Can I pick magic mushrooms in the wild for personal use?
The legality of picking magic mushrooms varies by location. Always research and adhere to local laws.
Are there any medical uses for magic mushrooms?
Some research suggests that magic mushrooms may have therapeutic potential for conditions like depression and PTSD, but more studies are needed.
How do I store harvested magic mushrooms?
Store them in a cool, dry place in an airtight container to preserve their potency.
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Wild Rose: Chapter 4
Author’s note: I got so caught up in life’s chaos, I almost forgot about this story.
I’ll do my best to pick it up again, but I can’t promise anything!
Chapter 4: Blood bath
I didn’t have the courage to move.
At some point, I ended up sitting on the floor as if my legs caved in beneath my weight.
These children – or what had assumed to be children – in their little Halloween costumes just claimed that I was the only one here that was breathing. I shuddered at the implications of what exactly that could mean. This world I found myself in, harboured beastly wolves and a seemingly endless dead forest.
This did not appear as an environment that children could survive in and yet three of them stood right here in front of me. A ghost of an idea fleeted from my fear-numbed mind that these were not children.
Perhaps I have gone mad, and I was alone in a desolate room of an asylum with only hallucinations to keep me compony. Maybe I was in a coma with vivid dreams filling my drug-induced brain while I was lying in a hospital somewhere. I could think of so many possibilities just to avoid the most likely reason why I would be described as the only one breathing in a small shed of four occupants.
Anything but that.
They couldn’t possibly be de… They couldn’t! How would they be able to speak or move?
“Miss lady~” drawled a taunting voice of the little witch-girl, a lot less snarky than it had been a few moments ago. It was as if she spawned out of nowhere when I heard her suddenly close to my left.
“So shocked…” I jerked my head at the sudden voice to my right, only to find the boy dressed as a little devil in the middle of reaching out as if I was trying to stroke my hair. His sudden advances had me gasp and practically fly forward in blind desperation, swinging around as quick as I could to get distance between me and my offenders.
“Why are you so scared?” My stomach dropped when I felt two small hands planting flatly on my back. As soon as I felt them, I squirmed to the side to find the little boy in the skeleton mask looking at me with an empty gaze. My back was facing the window now and the three remained frozen right where I left them, simply staring at me. I didn’t want then near me. I didn’t want them to touch me. If they were really the walking dead, I wouldn’t want to even look at them.
I just wanted to disappear.
I slowly backtracked until I reached the window and grabbed the little windowsill behind me, hoping that it could somehow give me strength. The back of my eyes stung as my vision became watery. My shaky breathing was beyond the me
I wish I knew why death terrified me so. From what I could remember the night before, I couldn’t even look at a grave without fainting. The fact that I was functional while standing in front of these little moving corpses – if that IS the case – was almost baffling to me now.
Maybe it was because my theory was not confirmed to be true… yet. For all I know, these children could be jesting to mess with me. My heart pleaded for that to be the case, so I could rather be livid at these little psychopaths, rather than to fear them so much that my very soul would claw its way out from my throat. Maybe that rage would be able to break my mysterious silence I can’t seem to control. Maybe I would be able to finally remember something.
“We are so bored down here.” The three children spoke in an unsettling unison again, making all thoughts I had vaporise in an instant, “We’ve never seen anything like you, down here with us before. It’s like a strange curse in our favour.”
My arms wrapped around my upper body, my upper-outer arms stinging where my hands met the now dried, bloody gashes that was torn into me the night before. The beast said something similar – that I was nothing like he’s even seen before, like I was something that didn’t belong here. I certainly didn’t feel like I belonged here. I did not want to belong here.
“Come with us.” Their voices rang in my ears. I couldn’t tell if they really spoke aloud anymore. It felt like they were all whispering within my mind now, “You could come with us.”
Did they read my thoughts about not wanting to be here? The idea violated me. The children suddenly broke into little fits of giggles, looking at each other briefly before directing their shared gaze to me again. As if they never even laughed in the first place. Again, in seamless unison.
“We will take you to a much brighter place.” The all took a step forward, with their approach making me panic, “We’ll play many fun games with our new toy.”
Whether it was me or the shed we were in, a chill found it’s way on my skin. The floor didn’t feel solid anymore and I stumbled a few times to keep upright. The planks of the walls surrounding us, lightly rattled, so subtle I could have sworn it was my mind playing tricks on me. It was like the wooden shed came to life around me was breathing cool air onto me – the movement of it whispering little taunts into my ears.
Like I was in the mouth of something beyond my comprehension.
My mind was buzzing with panic, my skin heating up to the point where I could not breathe properly, and I broke out with cold sweat.
Trembling. Frozen. Whispers. Eyes. Breathing.
I can’t breathe.
I’m drowning.
And then, as if it never happened, there was silence.
Silence.
Nothing. For an unreal moment, everything was still and silent.
BUT I CAN’T BREATHE!
The one and only door crashed open, revealing the wolf that put me here. He was on all fours, with his odd shirt and snarling jaw snapping at the closest child to him. The boy dressed in the skeleton costume. He dove to his companions, that both jumped to grab his arms to tug him upright. The wolf’s talons dug into the floorboards, and he vigorously tugged at them to pull them out.
There was no time to think.
With the blind will I didn’t ever believe myself to have, I rushed in front of the wolf, and reached over his head to pull his shirt far over his face. It growled and thrashed at the obstruction of his view, and I dodged the scampering children to charge out the door, only to stop in my tracks once I’ve reached the outside.
There was a pack of wolves surrounding a with large creature with the limbs of a lion. It was butting at the growling wolves, using its shiny claws to grab at any of the beasts it could reach. It was only when I looked closer when I saw that was a porcelain bathtub.
I was going mad.
The wolves were relentless in their pursuit to pin the tub down, but their teeth and claws hopelessly slid across the porcelain, making it impossible to grip onto or leave scars, even if they had strength in numbers. The feline paws had retractable claws that shone like sliver, that drew blood where they met the brown rugged pelts. A choir of yelps, snarls and growls filled the air as I could only watch them – standing frozen on the spot.
A sharp whistle broke my trans as my eyes met the little devil who was rounding up his partners. The porcelain monstrosity blindly cleared a path towards them and slid on the dirt to a stop, as if waiting for its next command. The figure blocked the children’s view from the wolves who we split into licking their wounds and making a slow progression to them.
I was only partially blocked from the oncoming beasts, as I was standing off to the side.
“Get in!” I heard the children bark in unison while they clawed their way into the cursed, sentient lion-tub. I could only stare at them, still dumbfounded of the situation.
“It’s either a bumpy ride with us…” The witch-girl snarled while vaguely gesturing to herself and her cohorts.
“-or them!” The devil-boy harshly pointed to the wolves that were dangerously close and still in pursuit.
There was no time to think. This really wasn’t fair. I either had to choose to compony of my worst fear who had unknown intention and possibility, or brutal mutilation by throwing myself to the wolves – literally.
Well, at least I’ll live.
Trying not to flinch at the bite of the cold porcelain beneath my grip, I ungraciously tumbled into the now cramped tub and grabbed at the slippery sides as it charged into the forest with the wolves at our heels.
This thing was running at an inhuman speed, making agile twists and turns that felt impossible for something so heavy to do.
I’m not sure how long it took for it to outrun the wolves, because all I could focus on, after looking up, was the three lifeless, sunken-in eyes of my three new captors. A deep-rooted fear resurfaced, replacing the excitement of the chase.
I pray that I made the right choice.
Next: Chapter 5
Previous: Chapter 3
Chapter list
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Hi! How are you? I hope you're well! ❤️
Can I request something with young Sirius Black?
Something with these dialogs:
“I can’t believe you remembered.”
“Of course I did, I know a lot of things about you. More than I care to admit.”
How you want to do it is fine. I hope you can do it :) Thanks!
Love, isn't it?
Pairing: Young!Sirius x fem!reader
Warnings: possible mentions of blood, death, Sirius being a little adamant arse
GIF not mine! Credits go to the original creator!
A/n: Thank you, I'm blooming and flourishing:)
I couldn’t help but gave Timothee the faceclaim of young Sirius...ik ik he is for Regulus...but okay. This literally took me sooo long to think
Hope you like it!
Thanks for the request xx
Not today.
He could not meet her eyes today, but he couldn’t even let her die...
As he gazed upon on her bloodied body from afar, he could feel the pain that was streaming through her eyes.
Only if he dared to look with that friendliness at her again.
“Y/n, no! You will ruin our plan!”
“Plan? Sirius, open your eyes- he's your brother!"
True. Regulus was his brother. But what else was he? A snorty, supremacist Black descendant. And Sirius hated him.
And she, being a part of the marauders inner circle, did save Regulus from their scrape. But being senseless and springy, they shared a few glares and scowls, and they were inseparable again. Like always.
That was how it worked.
The coming years were following a pattern- marauders would plan, and she would be induced to diffuse. Not that she was a snorty, pompous supremacist like Regulus, she was just well beyond her years.
And Sirius, being him, never noticed.
By the fifth year, their daft fights had taken a rather ugly turn. With the rest three marauders trying to forge a patchwork between them, they both were well aware that the end of whatever was between them was near.
No matter how much James teased them with, “You won’t believe, my parents always think you both are dating,” or Peter’s subtle squabble of, “You both look good together,” or even Remus’ sane advise of, “Sort this mess,” made them what they were again.
With resentments growing more dangerous than the Whomping Willow, Y/n was lucky to find her escape in prefect duties. She did continue rescuing the first-years in the name of being a prefect, threatened the marauders of snatching endless points from Gryffindor, and she was distanced from him...her own shadow.
Sirius tolerated this cold contempt as much as she did. And the last straw for him was when she saved Snape from their trap.
That invisible line because of which he had been abiding till date was snapped that day.
He didn't know whether it was her concern for Snape or the fact that she dragged their nemesis away from the Whomping Willow that roused such an anger in him. So, he didn't mind cornering her in the corridor that night. Remus had been a total no-no for his complacent act, but oh, Merlin, he is Sirius Black.
"You think I'm a party popper for you all? Sorry, but then you have set your priorities wrong, Sirius. I'm not being a mindless prankster having fun at others expense. You feel I'm a bore? Hah, I've seen my loved ones withering away, I've seen them getting hurt, and I don't want anybody to feel the same- fine! Fine! Do whatever you want to."
And they never talked again.
He eyed her everyday as she sat with Regulus on the Slytherin table and not with him. She didn't talk, never smiled, and the warmth of her eyes had turned mirky.
Like she wasn't Y/n...his Y/n.
And now when he was looking at her warped figure, he reminiscented those days when their compartment in the Hogwarts Express blazed with life and laughter. They would be sticking onto each other for the love of their life as James and Remus pulled something worth fleeing away.
And he well remembered that as soon as the sky mimicked the glowing embers, she would turn drowsy, and lovingly, he would caress her hair and rub the back of her ear...just in little circular motions.
And he knew what he wanted at the moment. He wanted her back.
He dodged the shrieks and screams of the muggles who were charging away to their safe place; those people who didn't even care to eye the girl who was lying on the ground, bleeding, meaningless words soiled with pain erupting from her throat.
He was well aware of the situation. The death eaters did it all...again.
。° 。* 。 ˚
"I miss him."
She couldn't help but suppress a sob at his words. Surely, he missed Regulus, but not as much as she did. He was her only confidant after she shunted the marauders away.
But she couldn't be more grateful to be back with him- in his arms, sniffling and comforting each other for their loss.
She was glad to open her eyes and get a glimpse of him, though she had thought it was one of the hell of hallucinations she had been going through.
His fingers instinctively snaked around her ear, softly tugging at it before he rubbed circles, triggering the perfect nerves in her as she flinched at his long lost touch.
"I can't believe you remember," she brushed away the curls from his face, her fingers aching for more touch.
"Of course, I did. I know a lot more about you, more than I care to admit."
And with a soft peck on her newly scarred cheek, he pulled away, left the comfort he had found after years, because somehow, he didn't feel the way he should have.
It felt different - it almost felt more than just friends thing to him.
"Sirius, please- stay."
The way her voice creaked in agony, he couldn't help but glance back, her hand outstretched towards him, the blood regaining its course on her leg.
"I've lost too many in my life, Sirius, and I've always let them go, uncomplainingly. But I can't let you go. I need you."
Timidly, with all her strength, she pushed herself up as he trudged painfully slow. Inches apart, they wordlessly stared at each other, their eyes momentarily flickering a bit lower, and they silently agreed on whatever was going to happen.
His lips unhurriedly touched hers, and just stayed still as if he was trying to inhale her scent.
He smelled strongly of mangy fur and some old parchments as his arms encaged her away from her trembling support.
She took the plunge and titled her head, devouring the toothsome taste of his lips on her as they moaned into the occasional bites and swirls. They felt complete...they felt alive.
Love, isn't it?
#harry potter x reader#harry potter x fem!reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black imagines#harry potter imagines#marauders imagines#harry potter oneshots#hp imagines#young sirius black
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He wakes with the sensation of water in his lungs and a bullet in his stomach…
He breaches the surface of the water, intent on filling his lungs with air instead of water, but the sensation of oxygen deprivation isn’t there, and the hacking of water doesn’t come.
He breaches the surface of the water, intent on filling his lungs with air instead of water, but the sensation of oxygen deprivation isn’t there, and the hacking of water doesn’t come.
He doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t flounder or struggle in the water, he simply stands up, his body frigid and yes there is pain now more than before, but not from his waterlogged lungs or his stomach, which he sees is torn open and blooded, a dark wound piercing deep into his flesh…
His chest hurts, oh god it hurts, a thousand knives sticking in and out and surely this is what ended him, this killing blow he doesn’t remember, a mystery, an enigma…
An enygma.
The pain wrecks him with a shudder that creeps into his head, flashes of white hot pain turning green…green…
Green suit and leather gloves and a gun to his stomach and a flash of pain and malice behind glasses…
“Edward” he says, though his own voice is near unrecognizable, gravelly and gurgling. “Edward”.
Edward Nygma. A name that cuts through the pain, that brings a new sensation to his frozen corpse, the feeling of something bubbling behind his eyes, he’s crying…
He lifts a startlingly blue tinted hand to touch numb fingers to his cheek, lifting them away to find droplets of blood, stark and red and cold, so very cold…
It all comes back.
The tears and begging and pleading, his own voice beseeching the dead eyed man before him.
The loud sound of a gun, the warmth spreading from beneath his vest, the pain slowly blooming, a hand clenching his shirt, pushing…and cold…
Sinking.
The thing in his chest shattering, the pain so deep and horrible he groans even now, the blood still pouring from his eyes…
He killed him…shot him, drowned him, left him for dead…
The pain in his chest swells and beats like a sickening drum, a mockery of a heartbeat, a rhythm of torment.
It compels him forward, his body moving in a slow march towards the shadow of a city on the horizon, a looming dark journey to the beast that was Gotham, where terror and death awaited…
But he marched, eyes unblinking, mind blank save for one singular thought, a word he repeats like a twisted prayer.
Revenge.
(Forgive my sub par writing, I only pride myself a writer in these strange 2am fugue states where I vomit words directly from my brain onto unsuspecting victims.)
(I had a thought of an Oswald vengeful spirit, a revenant that would resurrect itself and return to Gotham to seek retribution for all the injustices done upon him…I’ve been watching a lot of horror movies lately.)
(Anyway I appreciate any feedback or comments or interaction with this particular snippet, I’d be curious to see how Edward would react seeing Zombie Oswald in real life, and not just in his drug induced hallucinations. Thanks for reading, Prost)
#my art#kidvoodoo#gotham#oswald cobblepot#the penguin#gotham penguin#illustration#short fanfic#I suppose this is a fan fic huh#my writing#truly I am so taken by the incredible writers out there#you are all fantastic#teach me your ways#nygmobblepot#vaguely shipping I suppose#if you squint
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The Bone of Impurity
So with the upcoming Winner is King, my brain got whirling with the thought of The Bone of Impurity which is arguably one of the main plot points of the novel and I thought I would do a bit of a meta for it? It is definitely something I hope they do not dilute for the Live Action adaptation but even if they did touch upon 1% of the shit that goes on into making a Bone of Impurity, it's still pretty Dead Dove Don't Eat. So I thought I would preempt it by actually putting down a primer on the Bone of Impurity.
I did not read the novel in Chinese and read it in English, so some of the more subtle themes present in the original work will have been missed by me. If anyone who has read the Sha Po Lang novel as it was written by Priest, do let me know if I have made any mistakes on any of the below ( •̀ᄇ• ́)ﻭ✧
Fair warning, there's some pretty Nightmare Fuel inducing shit, so I'll be keeping things under a read more in case people get squicked by this lol I'm also basing my references around the translation that Northwest Flower did because that is the one I read.
Just a basic background on The Bone of Impurity:
It is essentially a curse unique to the Northern Man people who utilise it in moments where someone's country is broken and nothing remains but revenge. To attain that, they make a sacrifice to the 'evil' gods of their beliefs
It is a cruel and horrible affliction to put on the person, but the return for it is that the person who becomes a Bone of Impurity gains the strength, intelligence, foresight and abilities of two persons
Whoever becomes a Bone of Impurity is someone who is single-mindedly ruthless and bloodthirsty when pressed towards a goal; they will attain power and their near supernatural abilities will make them unstoppable in achieving their goals
They will also gain a sort of existence that is neither alive nor dead. Sort of a zombie-like living. They also don't live very long
For all this super abilities, the flip side for anyone living with the Bone of Impurity is that they will be constantly highly suspicious and paranoid of everyone and everything; they will be slowly driven mad by the visceral hallucinations that will leave them incapable of knowing what is real and what is fake (Volume 1, Chapter 26; Volume 3, Chapter 70)
A Bone of Impurity attack comes about when the afflicted experiences heightened emotions or moments of extreme stress (I seriously cannot list out all the times it popped up in the novel because we would be here quite long lol)
It manifests in dual pupils being observed in their blood-hued eyes, hypersensitivity of the senses, their body burning up, almost sleep paralysis levels of body-lockedness and they will experience extreme pain with the bouts of attacks lasting hours at a time (Volume 2, Chapter 50 & 51)
The method of 'refining' a Bone of Impurity is...
Basically taking two babies and putting them in a dark place with no air, no water, no food. One of the babies will survive while the other one dies (Volume 3, Chapter 70)
I'm not quite certain if they have to be blood related or not, but the examples given in the book all indicate that if they have a strong connection to each other, then it would be better and that the Bone of Impurity would better take
The dead baby is then... 'refined' with the arcane arts and medicines of the Northern Man Goddesses and fed to the surviving baby (re:baby cannibalism)
I told you it wasn't pretty...
In the novel, Chang Geng is the Bone of Impurity made by Hu Ge Er, his aunt, in order to bring about chaos and tumult to Great Liang that had subjugated her people. Chang Geng is repeatedly described to have almost scary levels of intelligence and foresight, to the point where some of the characters actually wonder if he is omnipotent.
Chang Geng is also revealed to have obtained characteristics of his cousin
One of the ways Shen Yi and Gu Yun identified Chang Geng as the missing Fourth Prince is the congenital defect of a toe - which, lol, the worlds where DNA testing did not exist - and Chang Geng insists that his toe deformity was caused Hu Ge Er (Chapter 8)
It is later revealed that this was one of the further side-effects of the Bone of Impurity where the afflicted would reflect characteristics of the 'devoured' counterpart (Extra: Souls returned home)
Now on to the meta bit:
Chang Geng has a pretty much single focus sexuality on Gu Yun; even when he wasn't clear on what the nature of those feelings were, he was already dedicated to the man, already thinking up ways of how he can support him in the future
Even when he was heartbroken by the reveal of who 'Shen Shiliu' was and the lies and the subterfuge that had flowed between them, just with an apology and assurance from Gu Yun, Chang Geng was already ready to forgive him
Now, we know that Hu Ge Er said with her dying breath that the Bone of Impurity will cause him to lose his mind and will cause the death of everyone he will ever love. I think she said this because she has already detected the level of dedication he has built for Gu Yun and also because she is a horrible person and wanted one last pot shot at tormenting Chang Geng
Through all his Bone of Impurity attacks, Chang Geng has one consistent thing that he fears the most above everything else - Gu Yun abandoning him, rejecting him, leaving him in any way
My thought is simple; what makes him different from the other Bone of Impurities that were explicitly said and described in the novel? One person. Gu Yun.
Had Gu Yun not saved him from the wolves outside of Yanhui Town, he would have definitely died right there and then being killed by the Northern Man wolves. I truly believed that at that time, Chang Geng really ran out there to die. With just the scant descriptions of what Hu Ge Er did to him throughout his childhood, even the brief glimpses into her horrible abuse, is enough to cement that he was very likely unable to handle everything anymore.
If Gu Yun had not shown up and took on the mantle of Chang Geng's Yi Fu - as clumsy and as emotionally stunted as he was to deal with a dependent - was kind to him without any sort of condition attached to it, if Gu Yun had not taken that spot in Chang Geng's heart and mind as a moral compass, guiding his path to tempering the more extreme effects of the Bone of Impurity, I have no doubt that Chang Geng would have destroyed Great Liang before he even turned 21.
Because of Gu Yun, Chang Geng plotted the way to peace for Great Liang; divesting of weak emperors and ushering in a new age of stability and peace, building a foundation for his nephew to take over and build upon. All because he knew that Gu Yun loved his country, loved the people, has broken his back time and time again to toil for peace and defend its borders.
In the novel, they even explicitly say that when Gu Yun is out doing routine inspections of the borders and stuff, Chang Geng essentially shuts down; starts living like a monk and a life without colour until Gu Yun comes back to him (I don't know which extra or chapter this is in because this post has been waaaayyyy too long at this point)
With Gu Yun, especially when he learns that his supposedly unrequited and unfilial feelings were not as unrequited as they seem, he found a path to a future where he can strive to live without pain and without worry. With Gu Yun, he could focus all of the ruthlessness and all the bloodlust and the brilliance and the horrors and make it into a fulfilment of Gu Yun's dream; to be able to walk away from the battlefield and live out the rest of his days in peace and leisure.
Think about it, especially if you have read the novel, how scary can Chang Geng get when Gu Yun isn't around to temper him?
Basically, yes, I am definitely saying that Chang Geng and Gu Yun doing the horizontal dance with no pants resulted in peace for the country lol
[Bit of Trivia] Chang Geng's name is also significant because, according to Hu Ge Er, it is the name of the 'Bone of Impurity' in the Chinese dialect (Chapter 6)
#sha po lang#feng huo liu jin#烽火流金#杀破狼#chang geng#spl meta#sha po lang meta#winner is king#gu yun#changgu#chang geng x gu yun
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Some of the plant life in the RiderVerse
I started to sketch some of these, but then my motivation died almost immediately, so ye ^^” if you’d like to try designing any of these plants though, be my guest!
Flowey: low growing, two almond shaped leaves, leaves are of a moderate size, resembles a daisy, petals are yellow, will talk and try to deceive people (has been known to attempt to kill those near him, especially humans). Flowey is native to pretty much every AU ever, and even when the residents of RiderVerse vanished, he somehow remained
Echo Flower: low growing, two almond shaped leaves, leaves are of a moderate size, five petals, petals are blue and appear to glow faintly, will repeat a person's word if the flick it. Echo Flowers are also native to pretty much every AU ever
Nycto Flower: shrub, tiny leaves in the shape of stars, reproduces via stalks of large six petaled indigo flowers, aids headaches and induces wakefulness if ingested (must dry the petals, then crush into a fine powder and add to your food or beverage). Not native to RiderVerse; They were brought to RiderVerse from Retribution’s home AU, which is a variant of Dreamtale
Spear Flower: sprawling plant, large leaves in the shape of spear heads, reproduces via clusters of bright pink flowers, four petals, leaves are sharp enough to cut through human skin. Not native to RiderVerse; These came to RiderVerse with Famine, who wanted to bring some seeds from his old home AU, which is a variant of Horrortale
Pink Shock: low growing plant, huge frilly leaves, reproduces via clusters of regular pink flowers, three petals per flower, small thorns along the stem, tastes like pink lemonade, may only eat three flowers a day (flowers are eaten raw, right off of the plant); if too much is eaten at once, can induce temporary full body paralysis. Native to RiderVerse
Lunar Fruit: low growing plant, huge leaves in the shape of fans, reproduces via huge cream colored flowers, three petals per flower, leaves conceal spherical fruit with transparent skin, skin resembles gelatin, fruit is slightly larger than oranges, fruit inside is smokey grey, oozes lots of juice, smell is similar to spearmint, fruit makes the mouth tingle the way mint does, tropical flavor, eases emotional trauma, relieves stress, and speeds up the healing process (also great for pie making). Native to RiderVerse
Monk's Eye Fruit: fruit looks like human eyes, the “iris” parts come in different colors, slightly bigger than a grape, fruit grows from a shrub in bunches, ripeness of fruit signified by the appearance of clusters of pale yellow four petaled flowers and small cone shaped leaves, amplifies one's special talents, wards off evil, will cause hallucinations to those it deems “evil”. Not native to RiderVerse; They’re invasive, and no one’s really sure where they come from
King’s Claw Plant: tree, tiny leaves in the shape of spear heads, reproduces via numerous large royal purple six petaled flowers, large claw-like thorns along the trunk, aids certain lung ailments, induces honesty, temporarily diminishes strength. Native to RiderVerse
Whisper Lily: low growing plant, moderate sized long thin leaves, reproduces via a single pale blue four petaled flower, repeats and amplifies the whispers/murmurs of whoever speaks near it. Not native to RiderVerse; War’s father, Necro, gave Death some seeds that he found in a dying AU. He thought the flowers were pretty, and couldn’t bare to see the species die with the timeline
Angel's Blade Flower: low growing plant, tiny pointed round leaves that have jagged edges and sting whoever touches them, reproduces via a cluster of crimson bell shaped flowers, enhances agility and aids certain mental issues. Native to RiderVerse
Imperial Ink Berries: tree, huge lacy leaves, reproduces via clusters of pale teal four petaled flowers which conceal clusters of deep purple ink berries; if berries are eaten, they taste like a combination of pineapple and strawberry, used to produce/create pale blue, pink, mustard yellow, lime green, and teal ink, can be eaten to aid any emotional or mental pain, temporarily diminishes sight and strength, best eaten before going to sleep. Not native to RiderVerse; They come from the kingdom of Regoria, which is ruled by Nyx (Lady Night)
Banshee Cotton: low growing plant, moderate sized long thin leaves, reproduces via a single lavender four petaled flower, cotton resembles grey and white multi length strands of hair wadded into a small bundle, is wirey to the touch, is used to create grim reaper attire for ceremonies when a new reaper is born/created/reanimated, causes disturbing thoughts to humans who interact with it, can reanimate the dead in some instances, enhances agility, induces reaper transformation. Not native to RiderVerse; It comes from Death’s home AU, which is a variant of Reapertale
HP Herb: tall growing plant, tiny heart shaped leaves, reproduces via single dark orange six petaled flowers; when used for healing, it needs to be dried and crushed into a fine powder, then mixed in with food and/or drinks, speeds up the healing process, can cure any physical, emotional, and mental issues/injuries, relieves pain, improves cognitive function. Not native to RiderVerse; They were brought to the AU by Pestilence, who’d stashed some in one of his pockets before trying to escape his own home AU (when it was being attacked, god knows how long ago)
#info#riderverse#riderverse au#undertale#undertale au#four horsemen of the apocalypse#riders of the apocalypse#death.exe#conquest.exe#famine.exe#war.exe#retribution.exe#nyx.exe#lady night
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What Near-Death Experiences Teach Us About the Brain
New research may shake up science’s understanding of the brain and consciousness
The truck driver’s story sounded far-fetched.
The man claimed that in the middle of his quadruple bypass heart surgery — during which he was fully anesthetized and his eyes were taped shut — he had “come to” and found that he was looking down at his own body and the doctors preparing to operate on it. He described the scene in detail, and he recalled that his surgeon had waved his elbows in the air as if he were mimicking a bird flapping its wings.
Later, when asked about his patient’s peculiar account, the truck driver’s surgeon confirmed that he had indeed waved his elbows in the air. He explained that, in order to avoid contaminating his gloved hands before a procedure, he would place his palms on his chest and point with his elbows — an uncommon practice that his patient couldn’t have seen or anticipated.
Bruce Greyson, MD, is a professor of psychiatric medicine at the University of Virginia. In his new book, After, he describes the truck driver’s near-death experience (NDE) and many others like it. Greyson spoke with both the truck driver and with his surgeon, and he tried to pin down the source of the man’s uncanny recollections. But his efforts only deepened the mystery of the man’s apparent out-of-body perceptions.
After studying NDEs for decades, Greyson says that much of what he’s learned has been hard to square with prevailing notions of how the mind and brain work. “Our common assumption is that the mind, or consciousness, is just what the brain does,” he says. In other words, the mind and the brain are one and the same. They’re inseparable. “There’s a lot of evidence for this,” he adds. “When you get drunk or you get hit on the head, you don’t think very well.”
But, paradoxically, NDEs often occur when the brain is heavily disabled or even measurably inactive. “The evidence we have from NDEs seems to suggest that the mind and brain can dissociate under extreme circumstances,” he says. “Somehow, the mind can continue to function when the brain seems to stop.”
What we know about NDEs
For one thing, they’re surprisingly commonplace. Estimates vary, but most research efforts have found that somewhere between 10% and 20% of people who come close to death — for example, they suffer a perilous accident, or their heart stops — say that they experienced one or more features of an NDE.
For a 2014 study in the journal Resuscitation, researchers found that roughly one in 10 people who survived a cardiac arrest episode reported an NDE. Furthermore, 2% of these survivors were able to recall some of what was happening as doctors worked to save them — recollections that the study’s authors could not explain.
NDE’s are not only common, but their features are also fairly consistent. The sense of floating above one’s body, and also the ability to recall in detail events that took place during periods of apparent unconsciousness, are not rare. Some other distinctive features of NDEs include an awareness of being dead or near death, a surge of pleasant or euphoric sensations, the perception of time slowing down, encounters with god-like entities or deceased loved ones, and lucid recall of memories — almost like a detailed highlight reel of one’s life.
Not all of these experiences are unique to NDEs. Some researchers have drawn parallels between near-death experiences and REM sleep disturbances, which can likewise induce vivid hallucinations and out-of-body sensations. Other experts have highlighted the apparent overlap between NDEs and the experience of taking psychedelic drugs such as ketamine and N,N-Dimethyltryptamine (DMT). Like NDEs, these drugs can induce the sensation of leaving or transcending one’s body, of time slowing down, and of perceiving or communicating with supernatural entities.
Some have pointed to these parallels as evidence that, while bizarre, NDEs are surely the output of neurochemical processes or other conventional brain operations. “Near-death experiences are the manifestation of normal brain function gone awry,” wrote the authors of a 2011 study in Trends in Cognitive Sciences.
While this seems almost self-evident, Greyson disagrees with this conclusion. He says that scientists who take this view tend to simply ignore the many documented NDEs in which people describe, in startling detail, events that took place around them during periods of unconsciousness. “People who have had both an NDE and a psychedelic drug trip say that they are not the same experience,” he adds. “The accurate out-of-body perceptions — you don’t have those with drug trips.”
Far from establishing that NDEs can be firmly tied to the brain, he says that the research on psychedelics leads one in a different direction. “Studies on psychedelics consistently show that the more elaborate mystical experiences are associated with decreased brain activity, not increased, which is the opposite of what you’d expect,” he explains. He also brings up a documented phenomenon known as terminal lucidity, in which people who have severe brain disorders — such as those with end-stage dementia — somehow regain their ability to communicate, to remember, and to think clearly shortly before they die. These are people who have brains that are sometimes visibly ravaged and disfigured by neurological illness. “There’s no medical explanation for how they can regain lucidity,” he says.
All this evidence has led him and others to consider alternative explanations for NDEs — including some that fundamentally challenge the relationship between the brain and the mind.
The brain as a ‘filter’ for consciousness
If NDEs are not the result of “normal brain function gone awry,” what are they?
Greyson says one theory is that the brain, rather than creating consciousness, is more like a filter for conscious experience — a filter that blocks out some information while letting other bits through. He says it’s possible that, during an NDE, the brain’s filtering ability may “break down” in a way that somehow allows consciousness to expand.
Other researchers are more vociferous proponents of this filtering theory. When it comes to consciousness, “our brain has a facilitating function, not a producing function,” says Pim van Lommel, MD, a Dutch cardiologist, NDE researcher, and author of Consciousness Beyond Life.
Van Lommel says that contemporary neuroscience regards activity in the brain — and, specifically, in the brain’s cerebral cortex — as a “necessary condition” of conscious experience. And yet for people who experience NDEs during cardiac arrest, research has found that consciousness seems to persist — and even broaden — despite an absence of measurable brain activity.
All of this is controversial, to say the least. But if consciousness is not a product of the brain, then where exactly does it come from? While Greyson punts — “I don’t have an answer for that,” he says — van Lommel proposes a theory that he and others have termed “nonlocal consciousness.” The gist is that consciousness comes from “informational fields” that exist outside of our minds and bodies — and even outside of time and space. In some of his published work, he compares the brain to a television set; just as a TV can convert electromagnetic waves of information into sights and sounds, perhaps the brain and body are mere conduits for consciousness. This, he says, could explain many of the features of NDEs that science’s current conceptions of the brain fail to elucidate.
Many scientists surely scoff at van Lommel’s ideas or dismiss them out of hand. But Greyson doesn’t. He also doesn’t endorse them. He says that his research on NDEs has taught him to embrace ambiguity and uncertainty — especially when it comes to the human mind.
“I think we’re still at the very beginning of understanding the brain and what it does,” he says. “In 100 years, I think people are going to look back at today’s models and laugh at how naive we were.”
By Markham Heid (Medium). Illustration by Kieran Blakey for Elemental.
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