#> daisy lore: revival event

[daisylore-au]

The Revival — Final Day, Part 5

final part :D it ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but as soon as this part drops, asks open to General Questions TM that you can ask some of the characters!! not all of them — some are Off Limits, but i’ll pick and choose questions that you can ask them that the characters will answer !! :DD

not a single person chose to find anyone else other than dream LMAO, so let’s find everyone’s meow meow !! :]

warnings: none i don’t think ?

Before she’s even properly awake, Daisy is staggering out of bed, brushing her bushy hair from her eyes and fixing her dungarees, heading downstairs on shaky legs and intending on going straight to the flower field. The sun is higher in the sky, now, signalling near midday, and when she steps outside, she takes a long minute, marvelling at the feeling of fresh air and the smell of fresh laundry on the wind. Nothing beats this — nothing in the Void could ever beat being alive — and Daisy closes her eyes, breaths deeply, and feels more alive than ever.

And then she’s tumbling down the well-travelled paths, weaving her way through a strangely empty town to the flower field not far from her home. She feels like she’s being led there, carried by an invisible force propelling her towards Dream — giddily, she wonders if Dream feels the same way, wonders if it’s an Admin thing.

…That’s another shock. Admin. Her powers have a name, and Dream knows about them. Dream can teach her, just like ghost Dream had been, and Dream can help her control them and use them to help people! She won’t have to hide them any longer, and—

Daisy stops dead. Ghost Dream. Will he be gone? Will he be Alive Dream now? What’s become of him? Pace quickening, she breaks into a run, skidding to a hurried walk at the flower field.

It’s exactly the same as she remembers. Flowers scattered around sway merrily in the breeze, and on the same winds, she can feel the source of the tugging, feel the pulsing of her heart sync with someone else’s. Heart racing, Daisy hurries towards it, jumping over the river and rocks and running past her favourite flowerbeds, and stopping at the sight of—

“Daisy,” George murmurs, eyes fixed on Dream, who stands pressed against a tree, face level, an unreadable mask, “what have you done?”

Daisy opens her mouth, and then closes it.

“Long story?” She offers weakly, and wilts under Dream’s dry look and George’s incredulous, stunned one. “Uh, can we talk about it over tea?”

…For a moment, she’s certain she’s gone too far. But George’s shoulders slouch, and Dream inches away from the tree, and Daisy gasps, taken aback, when George picks her up, hugging her tightly.

“You,” he says, “have explaining to do.”

“…If we have biscuits with tea,” Daisy says feebly, “it would really help to explain.”

Despite how clearly overwhelmed he is, Dream stifles a smile out of the corner of her eye, and Daisy, despite everything, feels optimism rise inside her.

Hey. Maybe things are gonna work out after all.

[dreamsclock]

does that mean the daisy lore au will be on hold as well for the next few weeks?

nope, i’ll finish daisy lore stuff tuesday through friday:) not tonight because i’m studying all day today but it will resume don’t worry ! after i finish the revive event it’ll be a lot quieter on that blog but i’ll still be answering the asks from before, just not any new ones :)

revive event will finish this week and everything after that will be quiet until i come back properly to this blog ^~^

[helshades]

Question! Darcy stated that older civilisations could have worshipped Asgardians as gods, which other characters support throughout, but - if this is the case - Thor and Loki weren't born at the time of most myths, so how did humans incorporate them into the myths? Or did Odin like the myths so much that he named them after the stories?

 A long, long time ago, we were discussing this with people like @fostertheory​, @diana-godkiller​ (back when she was Romanovasledger) and, someone who was of immense help when it came to pondering Asgardian lifespans, amongst many other things, @survivingrealitywithoutnormality​; I recall one of the results was this:

The Young Gods: a zany theory on the possible origin for the Asgardian reputation of godliness on Earth, with the unwilling help of Norse poets.

Thinking about it again now, after three films (plus two) and a couple episodes of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., I’d say we could reprise the idea without risking complete dishonor, in fact.

Obviously, MCU!Earth is meant to imitate our own as closely as possible, and we usually are better off assuming that most events have occurred there just the way they have here. On the other hand, we know that certain things are entirely different: there is no such place as Sokovia or Wakanda, Tony Stark didn’t save the President of the U.S.A., and the rules of physics of our universe don’t actually all apply to MCU!Earth or Bruce Banner would have died a very painful death in that explosion and there wouldn’t be a Hulk in the first place to break Lavoisier’s law repeatedly with brutish application.

So I wouldn’t be cocksure about MCU mythologies matching our own in every respect, either, and I wouldn’t be so sure about their chronology. But even if we choose to be lazily reasonable and assume that the Norse myths followed roughly the same course in European history within the MCU they did in our world… well:

maybe Odin’s Asgard was, like in some comics, a repetition of past events, with Ragnarök having already happened several times and the Asgardians getting revived for a new cycle by Those Who Sit Above In Shadows (there was an Easter Egg for this theory in Thor, actually, in the form of a tablet that read exactly this in runes, next to the Eternal Flame) and there has already been a Thor and a Loki before, or several;

there is always the possibility that Odin gave his sons the names of legendary characters in Asgardian folklore; 

… or the Thor and Loki of Midgardian mythology are a mixture of reality and more or less irreverent stories woven from both older Scandinavian myths and whatever iconoclastic bullshit Asgardian deserters have been feeding their new human friends.

I tend to find the latter option more… harmonious, not to mention exceptionally tantalising: I love the idea that people like Berserker defector soon to be known as Elliot Randolph took every opportunity to secretly troll the royal family of Asgard by telling grand tales of dashing exploits to his human friends and adding a lot of frankly insulting tidbits to mock the aristocrats back home.

It’ll never happen but I’d love to see Randolph get to meet Thor, like Coulson once promised him, and suddenly realise that all the lewd jokes mayn’t have been the greatest idea, now that the brother of the King happens to be the former(?) butt of said jokes.

Chronologically speaking… as of 2017, Thor and Loki—who, it is now official, are basically twins—are 1052 or 1053 years old. The former stone mason who would become known on Midgard as Elliot Randolph enlisted in the Berserker army for a mission on Earth sometime during the late 12th century: the late 1100s, then, so back when Thor and Loki were already over a hundred years old—to be exact, they turned 135 at the beginning of the century, and would have been breaching 200 at the very least when ‘Randolph’ departed for Earth with the berserkers. If we consider the fact that Loki was already able to cast convincing illusions at only eight years of age… I say the brothers had already had ample time to make a name for themselves as an insufferable pair of royal nuisances by then, and Randolph enough material onto which, er, embroider.

Sure, the Asgardians have a lifespan or life expectancy of 5,000 odd years, and they certainly undergo decades of studies, especially the aristocrats, especially the two princes of the Crown; but, in spite of Loki’s disparaging comment in The Dark World about a human lifespan of a mere century being, to an Asgardian, ‘a heartbeat’, they probably experience the passing of time everyday roughly like humans do—and they probably age like we do before they reach adulthood. So, aged a hundred years and more, they will have had time enough to go on many a dangerous quest, and generally behave like pricks around the palace for long enough that an imaginative stone mason turned dejected soldier who decided to desert his home planet and the army to live amongst the quick-lived, ever-changing human race indefinitely, such a man certainly had ample material to work with, and a few grudges to exorcise. After all, we know a little by now the way the aristocrats themselves perceive their own actions, exploits and respective persons… but who shall give us the point of view of the ordinary folk on the subject?

                   SKYE

So… Asgardians are aliens from another planet who visited ours a thousand years ago…

                COULSON

Or more.

                   SKYE

And, because we couldn’t understand aliens, we thought they were… gods?

                COULSON

That’s what our Norse mythology comes from.

A few moments later in the episode, Skye makes this remark to Coulson:

‘You should give your buddy the God of Thunder a shot. He gets his powers from his hammer, right?’

Please notice that only a few moments before, Skye—known today as Daisy Johnson—acknowledged the fact that Asgardians are not divinities but aliens; yet she reprises the term rather matter-of-factly and speak of Thor as ‘the God of Thunder’. Once again, I don’t think, even now that Thor himself chooses to refer to himself as such, that Marvel filmmakers have ever changed their minds about the nature of the Asgardians: what truly changed is Thor’s perception of himself and his place in the grand scheme of things and his powers—if anything, I would argue that Asgardians gain the right to refer to themselves as ‘gods’ when they have accomplished enough exploits that they have become the stuff of legends, especially known for one special power. Loki is the master of illusions and Thor is basically an Asgardian mutant with an uncanny ability to manipulate electricity—for centuries, Mjöllnir served as a catalyst, but with Odin dead, Thor probably inherited certain abilities derived from the same source of Hela’s own: Asgard itself.

The stuff of legends, then. Naturally, Asgardians live for so long and are so resistant to body damage (and, arguably, psychical—the thing is, when you live that long, you must be able to withstand millennia of existence in the margins of worlds where people wither and die before you’ve had the time to love them, and you have to be vaccinated against boredom and repetition…) that the most notable of warriors end up having songs sung and theatre plays played about their Dashing Exploits whilst they’re still alive, and still going on adventures… then, as we know, they come back to Asgard and have more stories told. They don’t always have to be perfectly accurate, but they ought to be entertaining, and full of symbols, propaganda teachings and virility. I have a suspicion few Asgardian parents will prevent most of these stories to reach children’s ears, by the way.

So… as for the ancientness of Midgardian stories about gods who were born in an era corresponding to the early Middle Ages, when the stories themselves, in our reality, have their roots in Antiquity, and in fact certain figures, like this of Loki, might well have hailed from prehistoric times, surviving in one form or another. The thing is, the old peoples of Northern Europe transmitted these ancient tales orally, and some of them got written down only after this part of the continent was Christianised and clerks copied down a few—unfortunately, not without superimposing their own interpretations, integrating the Gods know how many exegetic elements… Which, mind you, is actually an excellent thing for the worldbuilder, who will then be able to cheat safely enough in stating that we simply have no proof that mediaeval clerks didn’t fuse together pieces of the stories people like Elliot Randolph would tell and (much) older myths. Indeed, in our world we may put a couple of archaeological proofs forward; but let’s agree for a moment on the idea that, in the M.C.U., it doesn’t have to be exactly like this. Let’s weave our own tales of dashing (literary) exploits.

To conclude, as a matter of fact, I’d like to attract your attention on the most grotesque (the grotesquest.) of these stories: I say there is some argument to be made about the idea of Asgardian defectors, fed up with the monotony of their old life, falling in love with the utter diversityof  Midgardian landscapes and cultures, and charming maidens of yore with self-aggrandising stories as well as narratives interlacing the enchanting, symbolist Asgardian lore with anti-elite pamphlet mocking the types and habits of Asgardian aristocracy. Beauty and burlesque together. And the story about the one time the younger prince of the Crown turned into a mare and got fucked by a horse and gave birth to another horse, with eight legs, no, not the first horse, the second horse, anyway he became two-legged again after that, no, not the horse, neither of the horses, well, not the actual horses that is, the one who was a prince in the first place, because, yes, of course my love, that’s totally a thing that could happen to them magic wielders, you see, I’m telling you the events exactly the way they happened, and then there was this one time—

[tipsycad147]

Taurus April Beltane Magick and Lore

By shirleytwofeathers

The first of May is Beltane or May Day, a time to celebrate the leaping fires of passion. Traditionally celebrated on April 30, (May eve), it marks the height of spring and the flowering of all life. Beltane is a festival of sensuality, sexuality, flowers and delight. It is a traditional time to make love, preferably outdoors.

Beltane is the time when fairies return from their winter rest, carefree and full of mischief and delight. On the night before Beltane, in times past, folks would place rowan branches at their windows and doors for protection. If you do not wish the fairies to visit, do the same! This is also a perfect time for night or predawn rituals to draw down power to promote fertility in body and mind.

At Beltane, the Pleiades star cluster rises just before sunrise on the morning horizon. The Pleiades is known as the seven sisters, and resembles a tiny dipper-shaped pattern of six moderately bright stars in the constellation of Taurus, near the shoulder. Watch for it low in the east-northeast sky, just a few minutes before sunrise.

There are many lovely old customs associated with this time. Here are some simple ideas for celebrating this wild red time of year:

Make a garland or wreath of freshly picked flowers and wear it in your hair.

Dress in bright colours, especially hot pink or crimson, the traditional colours of Beltane, or wear green all day (and nothing all night!)

Hang fruits and baked goodies from trees and bushes for later feasting.

Build a Beltane fire: leap over it to cleanse yourself, or state your desires and let the fire carry them upward.

Leap over your garden rows (or house plants), sharing joyous energy.

Make a ‘May gad’: peel a willow-wand and twine cowslips or other flowers around it.

Throw a May Day party and feast on May wine and food till the dawn. Turn a broomstick into a maypole and see how many people you can get to dance round it.

Make love in the woods, in your garden, outside – at night.

Watch the sunrise. Pack a picnic breakfast, a blanket, and some sweaters; and head out before dawn. Unpack your picnic on a hill with an unobstructed view and enjoy the early morning rays as the sun peaks over the horizon.

Make a flower feast! Freeze edible flowers in your ice cubes. Add edible flowers to your salad. Candy flowers to decorate your dessert.

Make a May basket. Fill it with flowers, food, ribbons, and fun. Leave it on a doorstep of a lover or friend, or someone who cannot get outside, such as an invalid or elderly person.

Make a daisy chain and cast it into one of the lakes to please the water spirits.

Rise at dawn on May Day and wash in the morning dew: The woman who washes her face in it will be beautiful, the man who washes his hands will be skilled at knots and nets (always a useful skill for students).

Twist a Rowan sprig into a ring and look through it- tonight is one of the three in the year when the uninitiated can see the faeries.

Create a May Day altar with a mirror, a small maypole, a phallic shaped candle, a daisy chain and springtime flowers.

Light a fire or candle on the top of a hill and make a wish as you jump over it (for authenticity, you can try this sky clad, it would also be amusing for any passing late-night dog walkers!)

Perfume your house with delicate scent of woodruff, a tiny, star-like flower that blooms around this time in the Northern Hemisphere.

Embrace the ones you love. Hugs and kisses all around.

Holidays are days made holy by the attention we pay them. Simple practices such as the ones listed above remind us that we too dance to the natural rhythms of the earth.

Honour The May Queen

Make an offering of a floral crown, or a libation of honey and milk, to the Queen of the May during your Beltane prayers.

The leaves are budding across the land on the ash and oak and hawthorn trees. Magic rises around us in the forest and the hedges are filled with laughter and love. Dear lady, we offer you a gift, a gathering of flowers picked by our hands, woven into the circle of endless life. The bright colours of nature herself blend together to honour you, Queen of spring, as we give you honour this day. Spring is here and the land is fertile, ready to offer up gifts in your name. we pay you tribute, our lady, daughter of the Fae, and ask your blessing this Beltane.

Make A Maypole for Beltane

This isn’t as difficult as you might think. Purchase a twenty foot wood pole from your local hardware store, or make a shorter one with a yardstick, broomstick, or even a twig. Set it up in your backyard.

Invite a group of friends, and ask each one to bring a 2 inch by 20 foot length of brightly coloured ribbon (or whatever the length of your pole). Alternatively, you could provide ribbons of various colours. At the top of the pole affix the different coloured ribbons – one for each person.

When your guests have assembled, have them each choose a ribbon and make a wish upon it.(For example, “I choose this red ribbon for more passion in my life.”) Everyone grabs their ribbon, and the dancing begins. (Make sure to have extra ribbons just in case!) Dance around the Maypole entwining your ribbons together. And then feast on May wine and food till the dawn.

More About Beltane

For the Celts, Beltane marked the beginning of the pastoral summer season when the herds of livestock were driven out to the summer pastures and mountain grazing lands. In modern Irish, Mí na Bealtaine (‘month of Bealtaine’) is the name for the month of May. The name of the month is often abbreviated to Bealtaine, with the festival day itself being known as Lá Bealtaine. The lighting of bonfires on Oidhche Bhealtaine (‘the eve of Bealtaine’) on mountains and hills of ritual and political significance was one of the main activities of the festival.

Beltane is a cross-quarter day, marking the midpoint in the Sun’s progress between the vernal equinox and summer solstice. Since the Celtic year was based on both lunar and solar cycles, it is possible that the holiday was celebrated on the full moon nearest the midpoint between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice. The astronomical date for this midpoint is closer to May 5 or May 7, but this can vary from year to year.

In Irish mythology, the beginning of the summer season for the Tuatha Dé Danann and the Milesians started at Bealtaine. Great bonfires would mark a time of purification and transition, heralding in the season in the hope of a good harvest later in the year, and were accompanied with ritual acts to protect the people from any harm by Otherworldly spirits, such as the Sídhe.

Like the festival of Samhain, opposite Beltane on Oct. 31, Beltane was a time when the Otherworld was seen as particularly close at hand. Early Gaelic sources from around the 10th century state that the druids of the community would create a need-fire on top of a hill on this day and drive the village’s cattle through the fires to purify them and bring luck (Eadar dà theine Bhealltainn in Scottish Gaelic, ‘Between two fires of Beltane’).

In Scotland, boughs of juniper were sometimes thrown on the fires to add an additional element of purification and blessing to the smoke. People would also pass between the two fires to purify themselves. This was echoed throughout history after Christianisation, with lay people instead of Druid priests creating the need-fire.

The festival persisted widely up until the 1950s, and in some places the celebration of Beltane continues today. A revived Beltane Fire Festival has been held every year since 1988 during the night of 30 April on Calton Hill in Edinburgh, Scotland and attended by up to 15,000 people (except in 2003 when local council restrictions forced the organisers to hold a private event elsewhere).

Wiccans and Wiccan-inspired Neopagans celebrate a variation of Beltane as a sabbat, one of the eight solar holidays. Although the holiday may use features of the Gaelic Bealtaine, such as the bonfire, it bears more relation to the Germanic May Day festival, both in its significance (focusing on fertility) and its rituals (such as maypole dancing). Some Wiccans celebrate ‘High Beltaine’ by enacting a ritual union of the May Lord and Lady.

~Information from various sources including Paganwiccan

https://shirleytwofeathers.com/The_Blog/pagancalendar/category/april/page/3/

[daisylore-au]

sneak peek at something i was making for c!dream’s revival for the last event but got too self conscious to post 😭😭 i thought this part was really fun though so have a look if u want :D catbur my beloved LOL i had a lot of fun making this in september !!

[daisylore-au]

The Revival — Final Day, Part 1

with only two votes to leave, we chose to stay!! get ready for a few hard choices this time !!

warnings: emotional distress, dereality

“We’re staying.” Daisy’s voice is flat despite her uncertainty, and holds no room for argument. “Look, we gotta save Dream, okay? That’s why we’re here.”

Darian stares at her in wordless dismay.

“You can leave if you want! But—” Her tone softens, and she breaks eye contact, suddenly feeling bad, “but I’m not gonna force you to stay. You can leave if you want. I’d rather stick together, but I’m not leaving Dream. You can get out, an’ I’ll join you when I save Dream. I can’t leave him, Darian. I gotta save him.”

“Fine.” Darian frowns at her, heading to the door. “You— You save him. I’m getting out. If you get caught—”

“Course I won’t get caught!” Swallowing her nerves, Daisy shoots him a bright smile. “I never get caught!”

The moment Darian turns the key fully in the lock, the whole door dissolves, leaving the key clattering to the floor before melting into a red liquid on the ground. Both of them stare at it for a moment, bemused.

“I hate dreams,” Darian insists grumpily again, “what was the point in the lock?”

Daisy shrugs. “I mean… It’s all just a dream, right?” She says. “None of this is real. None of this actually is here — it’s all in our minds. We can do anything.

Darian rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Just… stay safe, yeah? Don’t do anything dumb.”

Isn’t this whole thing dumb? Splitting up, trying to save Dream while an angry prison warden and frightening version of her friends’ dad hunt them down? Daisy swallows. “Pinky promise,” she agrees, squeezing his pinky finger with her own, “you too. Get out safely.”

Darian gives her a sharp nod, and hurries off in the direction Quackity had gone in. Taking a deep steady breath and watching it mist in front of her, Daisy does her best to look positively at things. She’s going to be okay. Darian is going to be okay. And — she takes off running — so is Dream.

They’re all gonna be fine.

The Prison is a maze. Daisy cross-crosses and zig-zags and ends up back at her cell a dozen times, crawls through vents and struggles through lava. Everything seems to lead back in a circle — until at last she gets to the main cell. Gasping for breath, tired and hardly daring to believe her own luck, she stumbles over to the edge, feeling hope rise within her.

“Dream?” She calls, voice small, feeling tiny in comparison to the huge room in front of her. “Dream? Can you hear me?”

Silence for a moment. And then, from behind the lava wall—

“Hello?”

It’s hoarse, croaky. Disbelieving, but Daisy finds a smile spreading widely over her face. “Dream! It’s— uhm, I don’t know if you remember or know who I am, but I’m Daisy, and I’ve come— I’ve come to bring you back to life.”

Without waiting for an answer, she runs over to the levers and begins to flick them, yanking them all down until she hears a click. The lava, slowly, begins to drain.

“Daisy? Daisy Lore?” Dream asks, sharply.

“Yup.”

“You actually came.” The older laughs, and Daisy can hear hope lining his voice. “What? How is that even possible?”

The lava falls. Daisy runs back to the edge, stares over into the cell, and finally locks eyes on Dream — the real Dream.

He looks tired. That’s the first thing she notices. Dream looks horribly, painfully tired, dark circles hanging heavy under his eyes and a slumped, resigned hunch in his posture. He’s also a lot more cynical looking than Daisy remembers his ghost being, a lot thinner, a lot more bloody — blood stains his clothes and skin alike, and Daisy can’t help but stare. Is this what death is like? What had Dream been suffering through in this place?

Dream notices her staring. The corners of his lips pulls themselves into a tight look that is almost a smile. “I wasn’t expecting visitors. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Daisy says quietly, a lump in her throat, “sorry for not coming sooner.”

“Don’t be.” Dream shuffles to the edge of the cell, one arm wrapped around his side — broken ribs maybe, Daisy thinks, along with his black eye and bloody nose and wounded leg. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t think you would. I didn’t even think you’d make it.”

“Well, I can do almost anything,” Daisy says, smiling crookedly, “that’s what my dad tells me.”

“Your dad…” Dream’s expression shifts slightly. “Who… is your dad?”

“Gimme a second.” Frowning, Daisy kicks at the rusted-over bridge at her side. “How does this thing work? Do you know?”

“Third lever. You have to pull it four times,” Dream says, “that sends it over, and five times sends it back.”

Unable to stop herself grinning like an idiot, Daisy rushes to the lever. “I’m gonna get you outta here,” she tells him brightly, “and then we can go home. I promise. No matter what, we’re getting you outta this place, okay?”

The others are going to be so excited to see him. Pulling the lever, the bridge creaks into action, groaning as it inches its way over to Dream, who laughs like he’s expecting this to be a fruitless dream. And then his face is crumpling into horror and dismay, then he’s stepping back, eyes widening—

“Get away from the edge.”

Daisy turns at the cold, angry voice behind her, heart cold. At the stairs leading to the exit stands Sam, levelling his trident at her, a stony, furious look on his face. In his other arm—

“Darian,” she whispers, horrified, “Darian, you got caught.”

Darian’s expression is almost as stony as his dad’s. But his eyes are frightened, fearful. “I’m fine,” he says tightly, voice wobbling, “I’m okay. Just—”

“Get away from the edge,” Sam repeats, stepping forwards, “and I won’t hurt your friend.”

Daisy’s heart drops. “You— You won’t hurt him,” she says desperately, “you can’t.”

“I cant let you help the Prisoner escape,” Sam tells her, “Don’t make me hurt your friend. Come here, and nobody has to get hurt. If you take a step further to the Prisoner, then I’m going to have to do something I don’t want to do.”

“Da— Sam,” Darian says, voice strained, “don’t— This isn’t you. This isn’t what you’re like. You don’t hurt people. You help them.”

“I’m protecting everyone by keeping him locked up,” Sam says levelly, “make your choice. Save the Prisoner, or save your friend. I’ll give you to ten.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Dream shouts from across the lava, “Daisy, come over here! Your friend will be fine! He won’t hurt him. Look, just— Just come over here—”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sam snaps, “one, two—”

“You promised you’d save me!!” Dream says hastily. “You can’t just give up now. You can’t.”

Daisy glances at Darian desperately, and then behind her. If she jumps, she can reach the bridge and get to Dream and save him. If she does, though, Sam could kill Darian. But… would he really? If she gives up, she knows Darian will be okay, but she’ll be leaving Dream behind.

I wish Dad was here, she thinks suddenly, wrapping her arms around herself, I wish Dad could help.

But she’s alone, and she’s got five seconds to make her choice. Squeezing her eyes shut, Daisy chooses.

———

1. SAVE DREAM.

2. SAVE DARIAN.

(thirty minutes to choose.)

[daisylore-au]

The Revival - Final Day, Part 2

MAN that was close - there was a difference of Three votes between who to save !! we got only one or two parts left depending on your next choices :’) let’s see what you pick!!

warnings: temporary character death, emotional distress, c!sam being a Bastard, temporary child death (rip)

She’s close to tears even before she makes her decision. 

Because deep down, she knows what she has to do, what all this has been for. She has to save Dream, doesn’t she? They’ve come all this way, travelled through what she thinks might have literally been hell - besides, she thinks, desperately optimistic, Darian will just wake up, won’t he? He’ll just wake up and he’ll be fine, if annoyed at her, and anyway, he won’t die - his dad won’t kill him. She knows Sam. He’s her Uncle, he’s Darian’s Dad, she’s sat on those shoulders before as a baby laughing and eating ice cream at their house. 

Sam won’t hurt Darian. He’s Sam.

Making her choice, Daisy stares at Darian, tries to convey how sorry she is, and leaps onto the bridge.

Sam’s trident whizzes inches from her chest, zooming past her and slamming into the cell. Daisy gasps, adrenaline making her legs wobbly, and she drops to the bridge, flattening herself against it to stop Sam trying to knock her off. Dream audibly whoops, and the closer she gets, the more delight she can see in his face - rough, wild, but genuine, and Daisy feels relief course down her. She’s done the right thing. She knows she has. They’re all okay. Sam had been bluffing-

“DAISY!”

It’s Darian. She turns, just in time, just in time to see-

To see-

Darian was slain by Awesamdude? in the Void.

(Out of the Void, Darian wakes up in bed with a scream ripped from his throat.)

No. No. Sam’s expression doesn’t change. In quick strides, he crosses to the levers, and slams down the third one. The bridge judders to a stop, and Daisy cries out in grief, in anger, in distress, too far to jump safely. This can’t have all been for nothing!

“Jump,” Dream says, firmly, unmoved by the death that had left Daisy reeling, “I’ll catch you.”

“Dream,” she sobs, “Darian-”

“I know.” He shoots a panicked look at Sam, who is pushing all the levers to bring the lava back down and drinking a fire resistance potion. “But you have to come here, Daisy. Trust me. He’ll be fine. This- This is The Void, after all. He’s just been taken out of it. Jump, Daisy. I promise I’ll catch you.”

Wobbly, tearful, stricken, Daisy stumbles to the edge and leaps. For a moment, she’s weightless, and the world is nothing but a blur of colours and a dizzying drop beneath her, and then-

Arms wrap around her and pull her into the cell, and Daisy collapses safely on the floor, breathing panicked. “Dream,” she gasps, bottom lip wobbling, “I didn’t- Uncle Sam-”

“We can make him pay, it’s okay, I promise,” Dream says, crouching at her side with a grimace. She’d forgotten he’d been injured, and more guilt pools in her stomach. “We can make everyone pay if we need to. Just- focus for now. Look at me, okay?”

Daisy does. Even in the harsh cell lighting, Dream’s eyes are brighten green here than they ever were back in his ghost form. He smiles, faintly, and for a second, Daisy feels safe, despite Darian dying, despite Sam yelling, despite the lava falling and everything that has happened to her since entering the Void. 

“I need your help to bring me back,” he tells her, “I need you to focus on me, okay? This is gonna be difficult, but, uhm, with both of our Admin powers, we should be able to manage it. I think. Is there anything I need to know before we try this that could affect the Revival Process?”

Daisy’s head whirls. For once, she’s been struck speechless. Where does she even begin with all this?

-------------

pick what daisy should ask ! only one of these will be asked / said so pick carefully !! u got fifteen minutes to decide :D

1. ASK HIM WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF SAM GETS TO THEM.

2. TELL HIM YOU DON’T HAVE A LOT OF CONTROL OVER YOUR POWERS.

3. TELL DREAM THAT HE HAS A GHOST.

4. TELL HIM NOTHING.

[daisylore-au]

The Revival - Final Day, Part 3

a single vote makes all the difference!! a single vote separated choices two and three, but 2 won - probably a smart choice!! have a little bit of fluff amidst the angst, too.

warnings: dereality

“I-” Daisy’s voice cracks, and she looks away, wiping away her own tears. “Yeah, I don’t really know about- about powers. My dad says that showing powers is pretty bad so I don’t use them a lot, and I didn’t even know other people had them. I didn’t even know they had a name.”

Something harsh and gritty in Dream’s face softens. “This isn’t really the best place for a lesson,” he says, lightheartedly, “and I’m a pretty bad teacher-”

“That’s not true,” Daisy says immediately, thinking of her ghost Dream, “I bet you’re a good teacher.”

“...I can try.” Wiping a streak of dirt off her face absentmindedly, Dream frowns, and Daisy lets him concentrate. “Oh. Can you feel that?”

Something hooks behind her heart. Daisy places her hands over her heart, eyes widening. “Yes. Yes, I can. What’re you-?”

“You have so much power,” Dream says quietly, and the setting changes - Daisy barely blinks, before she finds the prison cell walls dripping away, leaving them hovering in blackness, “how do you manage, if you barely use it?”

“I mean, sometimes I change the weather,” Daisy admits, “make it sunny when my dad is sad. Or- I can make gold for my friend Michael.”

“Michael,” Dream says, savouring the name, “Ranboo’s kid?”

“You know about him?”

“Kind of.” Dream closes his eyes again, and lifts his hands up, cupping Daisy’s. Between his cold hands and her warm ones, a ball of white code forms, whispering and thrumming. “But let’s talk about that later, okay?”

Everything else fades into the background. Awestruck, Daisy stares at the glowing ball, eyes glistening. “It’s so pretty.”

“Do you know what it is?”

She shakes her head, mutely, and Dream, opening his eyes, which reflect the same code they’re holding, smiles. It looks genuine.

“It’s the universe. Well, it’s a universe. The Void is... it’s not really the afterlife. When you lose all your lifes, you don’t die. You get... stuck between worlds. You know about different worlds and servers, right? And how for a moment, when you move from one to another, you see blackness?”

“That-” Daisy’s eyes widen. “That’s what we’re in right now?”

“Basically,” Dream says, “it’s- weird. Hard to describe. Uhm, there’s a different section of it reserved for everyone who dies before their time, or dies with unfinished business, or something - the cell we were in, and whatever you were in before, was like a different part of the Void. But this section we’re in right now is the space between worlds. And-”

He gestures to their joined hands, and the ball of light that hovers between them.

“This is ours. Yours, I guess.”

Daisy’s eyes prick with tears. “It’s beautiful.”

(For a second, she feels so protective of it. Like she would sacrifice anything for it.)

Dream looks approving. “It is. Now, close your eyes, and focus on a shape in your mind. Any shape at all.”

She’s quick to do so. Squeezing her eyes shut, Daisy pictures butterflies, hundreds of tiny butterflies, and when Dream scoffs in quiet delight, she opens her eyes to see them - thousands of little wings flutter around her, all of them glowing with code, all of them fluttering around her and Dream and nesting gently in their hair and on their arms.

“Perfect,” Dream says, “you’re a natural.”

Daisy beams, and the butterflies dazzle. ”You think?”

“Definitely. Better than all my attempts in my cell.” The older huffs out a laugh. “Now try... a doorway. Any type of door. Can you do that for me?

--------

just a fun choice to finish with !! pick any :D fifteen minutes to pick !!

1. A DOOR THAT LOOKS LIKE DAISY’S HOUSE DOOR. IT’S SMALL AND OAK AND WELL-WORN, ROUNDED AT THE EDGES AND CREAKY TO OPEN. THE SMELL OF FRESH LAUNDRY AND OLD BOOKS COMES FROM INSIDE.

2. A HEAVY IRON DOOR THAT LOOKS THIN AND RECTANGULAR. THE SMELL OF FLOWERS FLOATS THROUGH IT, AND LOOKING THROUGH THE KEYHOLE SHOWS A FIELD OF DAISIES AND THE SETTING SUN.

[daisylore-au]

The Revival Event - Day 4, Part 5

everyone voted for 1 - to call for help!! guess it’s the only Real choice, right?

warnings: dereality, body horror, c!george neg (but it’s not Really Him and also is just a manifestation of daisy’s biggest fear :’) thought i’d include it anyway just in case lol)

Daisy calls for help.

Nobody comes.

The Thing jeers. “You didn’t think anyone would actually want you, did you?” It asks, words dripping from its mouth. Its voice crawls over Daisy and leaves her shuddering and shivering. “Come on, Daisy. Like I said, you’re more trouble than you’re worth. Always asking questions people don’t want to answer. Always upsetting people. You know it’s just a matter of time before your dad leaves you. Before everyone leaves you.”

Daisy shrinks. “That’s not true,” she says, but her voice is small, “Dad loves me.”

“You remind him of everything he wants to avoid.” The Thing’s Voice shifts into George’s again - it’s so startlingly realistic that it makes Daisy tear up again. “Why do you think I sleep so much? Why do you think people look at you weirdly when you start talking about the stupid Monster? Nobody likes you, Daisy. Nobody loves you.”

“Daisy, it’s not true,” Darian says, strained, “don’t listen to it.”

“Dream won’t love you any more if you bring him back,” the Thing laughs, “he’s going to hate you, Daisy Lore. They all will. Dream will come back, and everyone will hate you for bringing him back to life. And you know what? Your dad will hate you more than anyone. And-”

PAUSE.

“Aaaalright, that’s enough of that,” Wilbur says casually, “not a fan of an omnipotent Void bullying an eight year old kid, not exactly my favourite storyline. And the Undertale reference? Not a fan either. I mean, huge fan of Undertale, huge, huge fan. Big fan of Sans. Love his whole meta-game thing. If I ever meet him, I’m going to beat the shit out of him for all the puns he makes. But that quote... You call for help-”

Wilbur’s eyes glimmer in the darkness. Sometimes, he seems like he’s part of the Void rather than a separate creature.

“But nobody came. You know it, right? Don’t think it holds any place in this story. Not if you all want a happy ending.”

He gets to his feet from his little curled-up position, and stretches lithely.

“I know I said I wouldn’t interfere if she pressed the button, but I’ve always been a bit of a liar. I can’t help myself. Besides,” he adds, and for a fraction of a second, something fleeting and genuine seizes his expression, “I think I owe it to someone to save these two. Small price to pay, isn’t it?”

You feel that maybe he’s thinking about Tommy when he says this.

"Anyway!” If Wilbur had hands, you get the feeling he would have clapped them. “Let’s meddle a little bit, will we? Let’s go back... Hmmm... couple of minutes...”

PLAY.

Daisy calls for help.

It comes in the form of a one block tall cat.

The Thing wearing George’s face stops still at the sight of the cat, and its expression contorts. “You,” it rasps, “Wilbur Soot. You’ve been a thorn in my side for a while now.”

“I try.” Wilbur is smug and unafraid. “I mean, at the end of the day, you’re not even real. Just a void, aren’t you? Just a big old fucking void. Nothing special. Nothing amazing. You’re actually quite boring.”

The Thing, or the Void, begins stretching, and when it stretches, it begins changing, too. Daisy and Darian, in mute fear, stare at the creature as it morphs, and in front of them, becomes a man, no older than thirty, with dark brown hair and a uniform and watchful dark eyes. It seems to unsettle Wilbur, who pauses, genuinely thrown off.

“Very fitting,” the Thing muses, “that the thing you fear most is yourself.”

Wilbur isn’t smug anymore. He still isn’t afraid, though, and when his tail stands up, flicking to one side, Daisy knows it’s out of anger. 

“Very fitting,” Wilbur parrots, “that you think that’s going to stop me from helping them. Darian?”

Darian, who had been watching the whole exchange in frightened admiration, stiffens. “Yeah?”

Wilbur doesn’t turn to look at him. “No matter what you hear,” he tells him, “you and Daisy keep running, and don’t look back. I’ll hold it off for a bit. You understand me?”

“Are you sure?” Daisy says, anxiously, even as the Thing begins morphing again - the blue revolutionary coat turns brown and ripped, the wrinkles on its face more pronounced, mingling with dirt, a cigarette hanging from its mouth. “We don’t want you to get hurt either-”

“Your dad would have made the fucking worst Vice President the server would’ve ever seen,” Wilbur tells her sincerely, “tell him that if I don’t make it out of here.”

The Thing leers. “You-”

Wilbur turns only to smirk at Darian, before raking his claws down the Thing’s front. Shadow billows from it, and the thorny ropes biting into Daisy and Darian’s limbs dissipate into oily nothing.

Daisy is barely on her feet before Darian is grabbing her arm and dragging her in the direction of a swirling smoking portal behind the Thing and Wilbur. “Come on!” Darian roars over the slowly building hum of the portal. “We have to leave!”

“What about Wilbur?” Daisy yells. “We can’t leave him!”

Darian glances back to his cat, and momentarily looks distraught, but takes a deep breath. “He’ll be fine,” he calls back, “I trust him. Let’s go!”

It’s all Daisy has to go on. Listening to her friend, she squeezes his hand tightly, and starts running, ignoring the yowling and snarling from behind her. She doesn’t want to turn and see the fight. 

And then, just as they get to the portal, it splutters, trembles. Daisy and Darian stumble to a halt as the portal splits into two - it’s clear it wants each of them to head through a portal, and split up.

Darian’s hand tightens in hers, unsure. “What do we do?” He calls. “Your call! I’ll do what you think is best!”

Daisy hovers, torn between the two. Do they head through one portal? Or do they split up and both head down a portal each?

------

fifteen minutes to choose what daisy should decide !

1. STICK TOGETHER.

2. SPLIT UP.

[daisylore-au]

The Revival — Final Day, Part 5

second last part, folks !!!! door number one won with ten votes so home door it is ! i am SO excited holy shit, i love this au so much and im so excited to get to the end of this event :DD thank you so much for all being amazing and sticking with this blog!!!! i hope you’re enjoying it as much as i am :O

warnings: mentioned temporary child death, dereality

Behind her eyelids, Dream’s wry smile is printed as she begins to construct the door in her mind. “Cosy,” he says, dry, as the tiny oak door appears, “who lives here? A— I don’t even know, a baby? Who can, like, crawl inside? Why is it so small?”

Daisy opens her eyes to roll them at Dream. “I live here,” she sniffs mock-haughtily, “with my dad.”

“With your—“ Dream’s amusement falls flat immediately. “Wait. Daisy—”

The door shimmers, and becomes solid; outlined in white code, thrumming and pulsating in time with both their heartbeats (how strange it is, Daisy thinks, knowing her heart beat is in time with Dream’s, knowing the whole universe is in time with them). Dream gazes at it in sudden apprehension, and Daisy, confused, frowns at him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“…No,” Dream says quickly, and it’s reassuring, “but… this is the door we’re going to step out of. Someone — your… dad — might be home. If he sees me—”

“He’ll be working,” Daisy says immediately, “he helps Uncle Karl with his lirbr— liba— /library/, on Thursdays. Though honestly, he might be worried, ‘cause I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, and—”

“Time passes differently in here,” Dream tells her, “how long do you think you’ve spent in here?”

“…A… day, I think? Maybe a bit more?”

Dream hums. “So that’s about an hour in the real world. I think.” He snorts. “I don’t get it exactly, but don’t worry. I would… be more worried about the Chat messages.”

Daisy blinks. “Chat messages?”

“Well, Darian’s death showed up in Chat, right?” Examining the door with trepidation, Dream misses the miserable look that crosses over Daisy’s face at the mention of Darian. “Chat shows up in life and death. I could see every time someone lost a life above — you think they won’t be able to see his message?”

She feels sick. Distressed, Daisy turns away, trying to hide her worry. “He’ll be okay, right?” She asks uncertainly. “I didn’t— I didn’ wanna leave him, but I couldn’t leave you either. I didn’t think Uncle Sam would kill him.”

When Dream turns to her, there’s a dark look on his face. “The Warden is… not someone to underestimate,” he says, “but Darian will be fine. He’ll probably be waiting for you in the real world.”

Do you promise? She wants to ask, but doesn’t want to seem like a baby. Instead, she takes a deep breath, and holds out her hand. “Let’s go there then,” she says firmly, “let’s get outta here.”

Dream, face worn and dirty and bloody and gaunt, lights up.

“Good idea,” he says, “great idea. Open the door.”

Reaching out with her free hand, screwing her face up in concentration, Daisy gently pushes against the door, forcing as much concentration as she can. The moment she touches it, she’s enveloped in a soft white light that consumes everything.

Nothing. Silence. More than silence. No touch, no sight, no nothing. Is she dead? Is this death?

…and the universe said you are not alone, a voice hums in her head. It’s almost familiar, if not for the deep reverberations in its tone. And the universe said you are not separate from every other thing.

The universe speaks to her. Daisy — not Daisy, she thinks, names have no weight here — The Admin reaches out to her world, her universe, her gods. And the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, she whispers, and her words circle around her, sinking deep within the core of the world.

The first voice continues with a smile. Talking to itself.

Reading its own code. Another voice joins in. She thinks she recognises this one too. It speaks again—

And the universe said I love you because you are love.

White butterflies dance up her arms, up her legs. They sink into her skin, and the Admin knows they are her price of resurrection.

You are the Player, the first voice whispers. Wake up.

Daisy Lore opens her eyes, and finds herself in bed.

—————

back in reality, what should daisy do first??

FIND GEORGE.

FIND DREAM.

FIND THE OTHER KIDS.

[daisylore-au]

The Revival - Day Five, Part One

second last (or maybe last) day !!! excited to move onto the next mini-event after this with c!sapnotfound from ages ago HAHA :)) now, you CAN get a bad ending (kinda bad) here, so tread carefully!!! you can ALSO look for additional information that sticks out from the rest of the fic that will unlock other options, though remember, not all these options will be desirable!!!! choose carefully >:D

warnings: dereality, prison

“Stick together!” Daisy makes up her mind in a fraction of a second. No way does she want to split up from Darian now, not when everything is at risk and there’s a shadow creature fighting behind her. Not letting go of Darian’s hand even for a moment, she takes a running leap at the portal closest to her, and tugs her friends through it. The last thing she sees before the portal swallows them up is Not-George lunging for them, disintegrating and losing form, shrieking loud enough to make her ears throb, and then-

-and then-

No. Staring up at towering obsidian and blackstone, the sounds of guardians drifting by and lava bubbling behind walls, Daisy feels horror creep into her stomach. Not this place. She’s dreamed about this place before.

Darian sums up her feeling with a vehement heartfelt “Fuck!”

“How can we be here?” Daisy demands, spinning round helplessly. “This is- inside my nightmares still! I thought that we managed to escape from my part of the Void!”

“Inside your nightmares?” Darian asks, frowning heavily. “Daisy, this is- The prison. The prison my dad built. I’ve seen photographs of inside before an’ I’ve seen blueprints that he made. I don’t think this is your nightmare.”

Daisy is certain she’s dreamed of this place before. Certain she’s been here, certain she’s wandered these floors lost and afraid before. She doesn’t voice this to Darian, gazing up at the ceiling, lit with glowstone, and to the lava wall churning not too far in front of them. “Prison?” She echoes instead. “Do you think...”

“That Dream is in here?” Darian bites his lip, looking uncertain. “Maybe. I mean, maybe this is where his spirit is attached to. This is the place he was kept in for almost two years, after all.”

“Then we should start checkin’ around.” Daisy makes her mind up resolutely. “The sooner we find Dream and get out of here, the better, right?”

“Right,” Darian agrees, though his tail flicks anxiously, “keep my hand? I don’t wanna accidentally lose you.”

Daisy grins at him despite her fear, and squeezes her friend’s hand securely. “I gotcha,” she says sincerely, “come on. Let’s walk this way.”

“Or you could both tell me exactly who let you into this prison and why you’re here.”

Darian flinches. Daisy knows why even before she turns round, heart clenching in dread. Because behind them, towering seven feet tall and levelling a trident at them, is her Uncle Sam, and he looks pissed.

“Dad?” Darian asks, in disbelief. “You’re here?”

“Dad?” Sam asks, in agitated confusion. “Look, okay, I don’t know what your game is, but you have to leave. Now.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Daisy spots a golden key hanging from his pocket, dangling loose, close to falling.

“We can’t leave!” She says. “We only just got here!”

Sam’s stern, stern gaze turns to her, and Daisy shrinks back. 

Behind the gas mask he wears, there is no recognition in her Uncle’s eyes.

No kindness, either.

“I want an answer,” he says, coolly, “what are you doing here? Who are you? What business do you have within the prison?”

Daisy’s mind races. “I...” She begins, trading nervous looks with Darian. “Well, it’s... complicated.”

“I have all day if needed.” Sam doesn’t look convinced. “Tell me. Now.”

---------------

fifteen minutes to decide what daisy and darian should tell sam about why they’re there !!!

1. LIE TO SAM.

2. TELL THE TRUTH.

pick carefully!!!

[daisylore-au]

The Revival - Day Five, Part 4

nobody trusts c!q then, huh?? LISTEN my boy hasn’t even done anything wrong (/j) okay so i don’t think anyone voted to talk to him, so let’s go with hide!! let’s see where that leads us...

warnings: dereality

Daisy lets herself be pulled back by Darian, and, concealed only by the shadows, sinks back against the wall, praying to whichever gods are listening that it’s enough to hide them from Quackity. Maybe it’s the blood, or maybe it’s the fact he’s in prison ‘interrogating’ for some reason, or maybe it’s just distrust after so long in the Void, but Daisy doesn’t think talking to Quackity would be a good idea. After talking to Sam, she’s almost certain that Quackity wouldn’t help them out of here either.

Darian’s eyes are wide. What do we do? He mouths when Quackity’s footsteps get closer, and Daisy shrugs, nervously.

Stay quiet, she mouths back, stay hidden.

Quackity walks by their cell without even bothering to look in. When he gets to the other end of the hall, he pulls out what Daisy thinks might be some sort of keycard, and exits through the door to the right.

Darian unsticks himself from the wall cautiously, much more cautiously than Daisy, who bounces over to the door again, full of nervous jittery energy. “Try the door again,” she urges, “let’s get outta here before your dad comes back.”

Looking all too happy at the idea of escaping, Darian fumbles with the key, inserting it back into the lock and twisting.

The door disappears as soon as he does so. Jumping back, Daisy steps on Darian’s foot, who shoves her forwards with a grimace of pain, and Daisy promptly tumbles out of the doorway, dragging Darian with her into a pile of limbs outside the cell.

“Daisy!”

“That was your fault,” Daisy decides cheerily, “your foot was in the way.”

“You were in the way first!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Waving him off, Daisy begins heading towards the opposite way from where Quackity had exited, only to be stopped by Darian pulling her the other way. “Dream has to be this way! Uncle Q headed towards the exit, so we should-”

“We’re leaving,” Darian says, skittish, “Dream probably isn’t here, and- if my dad catches me breaking the rules, he’ll be mad at me. We’ve caused enough trouble as it is. Can’t we get out of here and figure out a plan when we’re safe?”

“Dude, no way!” Daisy frowns at him, pulling her arm out of his and crossing them. “Look, we’re so close! We can’t give up now! What’s the worst that could happen?”

As if on cue, an alarm begins to shriek and red lights begin to flash.

“I don’t want to find out!” Darian yells over it. “Come on, Daisy, we need to get out of here!”

“We can’t leave without Dream!” Daisy says stubbornly.

“Daisy, please!”

--------------------------

you have fifteen minutes to pick!!!! should daisy

1. LEAVE THE PRISON

2. SEARCH FOR DREAM

up to you!!! choose wisely!!!

[daisylore-au]

The Revival - Day Four, Part Three

with over half the votes being to talk, looks like we’re gonna do some talking!! let’s hope this works out...

warnings: body horror, death, dereality, general horror themes

“Dream,” Daisy says, weakly, moving back until she hits the wall again, “Dream.”

And then, when that doesn’t work-

“Dad,” Daisy says louder, desperate, and Flower-Dream’s hand retracts, his head tilting to the side in question, “you’re- you’re scaring me. You’re scaring me.”

And Flower-Dream pauses, the energy in the room stilling. For a second, a stricken look passes his face. “I don’t want to scare you,” he says, eventually, and there’s only a pitiful sort of earnestness in his voice, no malice, no cruelty, “I don’t want you to be scared, Daisy. I want you to be happy. With Other-George and me. Don’t you want to be a family?”

“I want to go home,” Daisy tells him plainly, a wobble in her voice, and Darian’s hand squeezes hers, a solemn expression on his face, “I wanna- I wanna see my dad. My real dad, who wears dumb glasses and doesn’t have flowers for eyes and isn’t scary. And I wanna see the real Dream.”

She swallows, finally making eye-contact with Flower-Dream’s empty eye sockets. The petals have crumbled out of the sockets, now: there’s only hollow black holes were there may have once been eyes. It’s terrifying, it’s upsetting, but more than anything Daisy just really, really misses her Dad.

And her Dream. Her heart aches. Had she made the wrong decision, trying to bring Dream back to life? Would they ever find him in this Void?

“You can’t go home,” Flower-Dream says, but there’s uncertainty in his voice, a hollow wistfulness at the idea of ‘home’, “you can’t leave us here.”

“You’re not real.” Daisy blinks against tears. “You’re not real, Flower-Dream. You’re just part of my... mind. You’re part of my Void and my thoughts and stuff, like Catbur said. But you’re not gonna make me stay. I gotta get back to my real dad. He’ll- He’ll be real worried about me.” She turns to Darian, a little desperate. “Right?”

Darian looks infinitely relieved. “Right,” he agrees instantly, taking a breath, “right, he’ll be missing you. And my Dads’ll be missing me, too. We have real families waiting for us. We can’t stay stuck inside living a daydream.”

Something seems to give in the Void, breaking free, crumbling around them. Daisy glances around nervously, but can’t see anything different, only feels it hanging in the air: and she doesn’t know whether or not it’s a good thing.

Instead of focusing on that, she forces herself to take one confident step forward on shaky legs, biting her bottom lip. Slowly, she reaches out, and takes Flower-Dream’s rotting root hand in both of her own, looking up at him pleadingly.

“Don’t do this,” she says, “help us. Please help us get out of here. Please, Dad.”

Flower-Dream’s expression doesn’t change. But he lets out a sigh - almost a breath, really, an exhaled breath like the world’s weight has been lifted from his shoulders - and slowly, particle by particle, begins dissipating, crumbling into dust and leaves and petals in front of the two children.

“Watch out for the Other George,” Flower-Dream whispers, a warm breeze past her ear, and by this point he’s so withered and crumpled he looks nothing like the strong, healthy Dream that had scooped her up at the beginning of this nightmare, “he’s not going to let you go easily.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Daisy and Darian alone, stranded in the room. When Daisy turns to Darian and he wipes at her cheeks, only then does she realise she’s crying.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, not really sure why she’s apologising, “I miss my dad.”

“I know,” Darian whispers back, “I miss both of mine. And Wilbur. But we’re going to get through this, alright?”

Daisy blinks, rubbing at her eyes. “Alright,” she agrees, sniffing, “let’s- let’s find Wilbur, and-”

“You’re not really leaving, are you?” 

Daisy freezes.

If Other-George had been taller than usual before, he’s grown horrifically now; half bent over against the light of the Void, limbs string-like, withered vines that grow thorns and spikes, he makes his way towards them in quick strides, black wither rose eyes boring down into them like fire. Darian only just escapes from one of Other-George’s thorns that whizzes by his face, stumbling back and bumping straight into Daisy.

Darian’s face is horrified. “You’re- You’re-”

“Speak up,” Other-George mocks, “I can’t hear you.”

“Ugly,” Darian says, “you’re really ugly. Uglier than in real life. Oh my days.”

Other-George’s face contorts and twists into a sneering grin. This isn’t my dad, is all Daisy can think, frightened, this is nothing like my dad.

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Other-George asks, and it rumbles through the Void like a whirlwind, sending angry black shadows shimmering over the Void’s light. “You’re going to stay. You’re going to stay with us, Daisy, and you’re going to be happy. Aren’t you?”

“I’m not going to stay!” Daisy yells, voice cracking. But what other choices does she have? Does she have any?

CHOICE TIME!

you have fifteen minutes to decide daisy’s actions! does she:

1. surrender?

2. fight?

3. run?

4. talk? (NO LONGER AVAILABLE)

[daisylore-au]

The Revival - Day Five, Part 3

one person chose to wait for sam and everyone else chose option four, so unlocked option it is!!!! this is a fun one :D

warnings: dereality, derealisation, prison arc

Daisy’s eyes brighten. “Remember how Henry and Michael gave us stealing lessons a year or something ago?” She asks, fumbling with her shoe and sock while Darian blinks. “And Emmeline tried to dunk Michael in lava ‘cause he told her she was bad at it?”

“I remember...”

“Well, the last part has nothing to do with our situation, but!” She yanks off her shoe and shakes it upside down, and beams when a key falls out. “Look what I stole! Uncle Sam didn’t even notice!”

Darian looks surprised. “I didn’t even see you do that. That’s impressive.”

“I’m impressive,” Daisy says with a assertive nod of her head, “maybe we’ll be able to get out now!”

“I mean...” The boy glances around, biting on his lip. “There aren’t any locks. What are we supposed to do with a key and no lock?”

“I don’t think that matters.” Following Darian’s gaze around the cell, Daisy hands him the key with an encouraging little pat on the back. “This isn’t real, remember. None of this is real. And I think... this is your Void, Darian. ‘Cause it isn’t mine. And I don’t think it’s Dream’s, either. So that means it’s yours! Makes sense, with your dad appearing and stuff. So I think maybe... if you take the key, then maybe we’ll be able to get out of here.”

Call it intuition, call it magic, call it the author needing the plot to continue. Daisy hands Darian the key, and both turn towards the cell door at the sound of a solid click. Daisy lights up.

“I told you!” She beamed. “Look! A lock!”

Darian stares. “I hate this,” he grumbles, even as he steps forward to open the cell door. “None of this makes any sense. Reality is so much better. At least locks don’t appear from nowhere and random demon things don’t chase you in reality.”

“Uhm,” says Daisy, who had been about to make a joke about being able to manually change the weather of reality thanks to Dream’s help, “so true. We should keep moving, though. Unlock the door, and-”

No sooner than Darian turns the key in the lock do they hear a voice echoing down the hallway, making them both press back against the wall in panic.

“No, no, don’t sound the fuckin’ alarm, Sam, are you kidding me?” The voice says, bored. “Look, it’s probably just Tommy and Tubbo fucking around, it’s nothing to worry about. Two kids wandering the halls is nothing compared to fucking Dream, alright?”

Daisy and Darian exchange looks. They recognise that voice. But what is Quackity doing at the prison?

“I swear to God-” Quackity cuts himself off with a groan. When Daisy peeks out, she can just see him at the end of the hallway. He looks exhausted, and- is that blood? Daisy stares, and Darian yanks her back just as Quackity glances their way. “If you’ve lost me a whole day of interrogation because you’re paranoid about a couple of kids, then- What? Okay, okay, look, I get it. I’m leaving now. I can come back tomorrow though, right?”

He has to be talking through his communicator. Daisy can’t hear Sam at all. But Quackity is still coming closer, sounding incredibly unconcerned and unbothered by their presence. Do they try and speak with him and get clues about Dream’s location, or do they hide in their cell?

------------

1. HIDE.

2. CALL OUT TO QUACKITY.

[daisylore-au]

The Revival - Day Five, Part Two

with only one person voting to tell the truth (rip jwt sad face), looks like ur all making the kids lie!!! How Could You smh </3 also well done to the people who guessed the key !!!!! you've opened up an additional option here and another option somewhere else too !!! remember u don't have to pick them if you don't want to :O

warnings: dereality, prison arc, c!sam being a little bitch </3

"Looking for-" Darian begins, and Daisy cuts him off harshly.

"You," she interrupts, hastily, elbowing her friend to shut him up, "we were looking for you. Uh... Uhm.. We were sent by someone to tell you... something."

Weak lie. Sam's suspicion clearly only rises. "Someone and something, huh?" He probes, frowning. "Listen-"

"Ponk."

Sam and Daisy turn to face Darian, who looks troubled and uncertain, but stands his ground.

"Ponk," he says again, lowering his eyes from his dad, "asked us to find you. Zey had something they needed you for. Said we weren't allowed to know what it was, just that we had to get in here and get to you."

Sam's expression shifts, and he lowers the trident, slowly. "Ponk sent you?" He asks. "How did she get you inside?"

Darian stammers. Daisy watches him, ready to step in with a lie if needed. "She said that... if you ask no questions, you'll get no lies."

It seems to mean something to Sam, who almost smiles, a gentle light sifting through his eyes. "Sounds like them," he murmurs, barely loud enough for them to hear, "alright. Alright. Take me to Ponk, okay? I'll go if she needs me."

This isn't quite what they'd been hoping for. Dismayed, Daisy inches closer to Sam. "He wanted to speak to you alone."

"That's what star said," Darian agrees rapidly, backing away when his father steps closer. He's clearly unsettled by this stricter, harsher version of the man he cares about. "That... you needed to go alone. Star said we could look after the prison while you were gone."

"You're children," Sam says, firmly, "this is no place for kids, okay? Look, I'll lead you back out. Follow me closely."

So they do. Left with no choice, trading helpless looks with each other, Daisy retakes Darian's hand, and both of them follow Sam closely - close enough that Daisy, heart hammering, dares reach for the key slipping from his back pocket, slipping it very quickly into her shoe before he can notice.

One step closer to saving Dream - she hopes. Now, they just need to lose Sam, and find Dream.

...Instead of finding Dream, they find themselves being led into a small grey cell-like room with an iron door.

"Step through here," Sam instructs, "I'll activate the portal that will lead you out, and I'll follow through after."

The moment they step through, the iron door closes behind them with a resounding clang.

Daisy whips back round, frightened. The look on Sam's face, cold and stony, has her rushing to the door to try and open it. "Let us out," she demands, voice wobbling, "this isn't the exit!"

"And Ponk didn't send you," Sam says, detached, "I don't know who you are or who sent you, but I know you're here illegally, and I know that if you'd been any older or more familiar, I would have to kill you."

He straightens up, and begins walking away. Darian stares in horror from the other side of the room. "Dad-"

"You're kids," Sam interrupts, firmly, "I meant what I said when I told you this isn't a place for children. There's- a monster locked away in here, okay? And I'm in charge of keeping it locked up. I won't risk it escaping. I'll do what I have to in order to keep it in here - if that means eliminating anyone who enters this prison without my knowledge, then so be it."

Daisy's head swims. "You lied to us."

"You lied to me!" The creeper hybrid doesn't look round. "I don't know who you are, but I'm going to leave you in here for a bit until I check the rest of the prison over. As soon as I know no other kids are walking around in here, I'll be back to question you. Do you understand?"

Neither of them answer. When Daisy turns to face Darian, he looks horrified, betrayed.

"That is not my dad," he says, quietly, "you know it's not. It can't be. My dad is nicer. You know that."

Daisy does. Her uncle is one of the kindest men she knows - not only that, he's her Uncle. Is this another version of Sam, like Not-Dream and Not-George had been? Is this Darian's Void space, like the flower house had been hers? "It's... okay," she says, lamely, "promise. We're going to get out of here, okay?"

Darian doesn't look convinced. "How?"

-----------------

fifteen minutes to choose from these options, including the one you unlocked :D

1. WAIT FOR SAM TO COME BACK.

2. TRY THE DOOR.

3. TRY THE WALLS.

4. [UNLOCKED] TRY THE KEY.

[daisylore-au]

Daisy Lore - Day 4, Part 4

HIIIIII FINISHING THIS EVENT THIS WEEK OR SO HELP ME GOD AND THEN WE CAN GET ONTO THE FUN SHIT :DDD

lol not a single person said to fight or surrender and no wonder LMAO - run it is!!!! let’s hope this is the right choice :eyes:

warnings: dereality, body horror, eye horror, general emotional distress

Once upon a time, Daisy had dreamed of a man.

She’d dreamed of monsters too - her dreams had always been fantastical, overflowing with strange creatures and people and events - but more often than not as a child, only a few years old, she’d dreamed of a man. A speedrunner, a man being hunted: she’d dreamed of a boy not much older than ten sprinting through trees and cliffs, running like his life depended on it. Sometimes it did: sometimes, she dreamed the boy was being chased by hunters with goggles and bandanas and tails, sometimes, she dreamed the boy was killed by them, sometimes, she dreamed the boy won. She’d grown up trying in vain to attempt the same moves she’d seen in her dreams - more often than not, they ended with injury and failure, with her dad picking her up and giving her a health potion to heal broken limbs and a scolding to be more careful.

But she hadn’t given up, hadn’t ever learned to quit - Daisy had practised, and practised, and though many of the speedrunner’s moves and agile parkour was beyond her, one thing she had in common with the boy runner was speed.

Backing against a wall, stuck between the Void and Flower-George branching closer, long twisting withering limbs reaching for her and Darian, Daisy does exactly what she’d learned from the boy in her dreams.

She grabs Darian’s hand, and she runs.

Immediately, the Void begins to fall apart, crashing and crumbling around them - Darian screams out in breathless fear as a cliff of inky oblivion slams into the ground next to them, and Daisy narrowly avoids bugs three times bigger than her scuttling with sharp, sharp legs across her path. The Void is a lot scarier now, especially without Wilbur. Daisy wishes he could be here, wishes more than anything they had the cat by their side - she feels so alone here, even with her hand in Darian’s, with the Thing behind them screeching and too close on their heels.

And it is a Thing, now: calling it George, even Not-George, feels too generous. When Daisy risks glancing behind her, all she can see in the neverending Void light is a snarling indistinct shadow with oozing, reaching fingers and distorted features that flicker between that of her dad, of Dream, of her Uncle Q and Sapnap and Karl and of some horrible mixture of all their faces, all of their eyes blinking out of a stretching gnarled mouth. Around them, the scene changes too - Daisy runs past mountains and caves, through lava and ice, trips over tree roots and helps Darian stumble over rocks, and for a moment, she’s the speedrunner from her dreams, and the horrible haunting call of the Thing behind her is the hunters-

“Oh, Daisy!” It calls, and it almost sounds like her dad. “Prepare to die!”

Nobody can run forever. Especially not two children. The Thing expands, shadow creeping over them and tripping them up where they run, and Daisy screams as she sprawls to the ground, struggles and writhes in thorny ropes, and watches in horror as Darian ends up in a similar fate.

“Let me go!” She sobs, “I want to go home! Let me go!”

The Thing with her father’s face slithers closer and bares its teeth. Behind its rotting, decaying mouth, she sees faces, millions upon millions of faces, all watching her, all with flower eyes. 

“Daisy Lore,” it hisses, scuttles, rumbles, “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

And then it smiles. 

“Caught you.”

----

oh shit lol wrong choice >:)) what should daisy do next? fifteen minutes to decide!!

1. CALL FOR HELP.

2. GIVE UP.

3. TALK TO IT.

4. FIGHT.