#Nameless Asterism

[imari4444]

Happy birthday venti! (Some short comics I made for today, but they’re really rushed and I only colored in the first comic so the other two are more like glorified sketches ✨👍👍)

[ohcitron]

my best friends

[aster-go-brrr]

a while ago i had this idea for a thing where present day venti is actually a fusion between sprite venti and the nameless bard's dead body. idk if it's lore compliant or not but it sure is vibey <3

[purplishtones]

New banner real??

With three of my favorites <33

[bambi-lesbian-posts]

I just realized that the number of OCs I have has increased by 4, now that I'm writing Into The Fog. It's just so strange to me. I never really think of the six of them as OCs, even. They're all just little guys in my brain. Walkin around. Killing people. Grocery shopping.

[that-one-dork]

Now that Art Fight has ended it’s time to present my attacks for this year!

Tw for body horror etc

In order from top to bottom + appearance order:

Junji - @arcuuda

Harkin - @horrordesmolcat

Crowe - @thousandsonny

Vincent - Macaxie (Art Fight profile)

Florence Lowe - P0STALDUDE (Art Fight profile)

Taeheon Kang - shursmom (Art Fight profile)

[for some reason the links stopped working]

Trinity T. Thrice - PuffyNight (Art Fight profile)

*Nameless* - @billyholztisch

Logan Fletcher - @saturnbarzgorillaz

Aster - FatCatTiger123 (Art Fight profile)

Lime - @neverniko101

Logue - @bluesubstitute

Tammy - @arcuuda

magical girl dream - @loxleyo7

Dex - StrawberryBubbles01 (Art Fight profile)

Cherry - @midori-berry

Consumption!Dream - @sketchiefoxie

[spamsandsuch]

since i havent posted anything gaster related in, well, idk how long but its been a long time, i decided to prolly to give an update thats been in my au for awhile but i never actually posted abt it for some reason

so instead of two gasters now theres three. Rather than following the alternative gaster route it relates more to the shard theory now. Heres some concept art i drew recently

rough info under cut

One shard is “Aster” (first; renamed Aster because just calling him wingdings got kinda old and confusing)  and while he has a shard in their soul his body is a physical vessel part of the game (aka hes like a normal lightner that can interact w/ both light and dark world. I refrain from calling it the “real world” cuz the point of utdr is that its a game). He doesnt know this though and has no prior memories after “waking up” for the first time in the game, but they know something is up and thinks the dark worlds has something to do with it (hence why he is holding experiments relating to them). He sucks major ass though cuz he doesnt think of them or darkners as “real” and treats them as such bcuz he doesnt think their actions hold major consequences when interacting w/ darkners/darkworlds 

Second shard (middle) is currently unnamed (tho that may change) and is half physical and half part of the void (but how physical its body is fluctuates). He knows their reality is a game and is pretty content with that. He barely remembers his previous life but doesnt question it — he knows he just is, not what, why, or how. Because of that, he doesnt care what people call him because it doesnt matter much in the grand scheme of things. While knowledgable in many things, he also easily forgets things too as he sometimes has trouble recalling certain things. He also doesnt entirely understand emotions, but it knows he likes seeing or making living things happy so he is often kind to others. He is also well intentioned and genuine, but sometimes doesnt understand what may be good for others to hear. Because of this, he is willing to casually share with others the knowledge that the world is a game to the few people who know its existence, but doesnt recognize that this may be scary information to some. It is also the same gaster that convinced Jevil the world is a game.

Third one and last shard is also nameless (again, this may change) and completely part of the void—meaning, in the light and dark world he doesnt exist, but can still visit them. He cannot interact w/ anything, though, which he finds frustrating esp when observing the other two gasters. He has more memories of his previous life than the second gaster, but its still few as well as scattered—most of the time he cant make sense of them, which is also frustrating. His form is also never constant, but he struggles w/ coping with the inconsistency of his body so he tries to form like the other two gasters whenever he can to maintain his sense of self. He also knows the world is a game (for obvious reasons) but still recognizes that consequences that occur in the game have weight — whether negative or positive. As such, he has a stronger sense of judgement and morality when it comes to others but cannot act upon the majority of things because he barely exists — which is also something hes frustrated with; because he cant interact w/ the world, he concludes he’s incapable of guiding or helping others. The only other being he can actually communicate w/ is the second gaster, he later finds out though; as a result, he often sticks to hanging out with the second gaster for company and also because seeing Aster’s actions make him feel sick. Additionally, he feels a weird sense of kinship with lightners and darkners for some reason — but especially darkners. He sorta almost sees them as his children, but doesnt entirely know why. 

[anemoi-i]

I swear, some of Mondstadt's best lore is behind either it's weapon series and/or weapons that detail Mondstadt's history.

Take a look at Freedom Sworn:

They say that a region's character follows that of its archon, and that this holds true both for the people and the land itself. But was it the unfettered archon who bestowed a love of freedom and wine upon the land and people amidst conflict? Or was it the people who nurtured the Anemo Archon's love of freedom as they pined for it amid the howling wind and frost?

The description goes on to say, "this is a question that can no longer be answered." But is this really true? Barbatos was a wind sprite by the nameless bard's side who observed his and the people's desire for freedom and the people of Mondstadt cared about their freedom. At that point in time, you can assume that Barbatos did NOT know he was going to ascend to become the Anemo Archon, so when he did, he became a newborn God who didn't really know what he wanted to be God of. Decarabian was called the God of Storms, but Barbatos is the God of Wind and Freedom. Had it been him strictly replacing Decarabian, he would be called the God of Storms, but he is not, and that is an important distinction. Sure, storms can be a result of harsh winds, but you'll remember that the winds of Mondstadt are always gentle and it is for this reason that Windwheel Asters can thrive and those that have watched for storms have a job "they hope they will never have to do" (based off a certain Mondstadt commission).

For the previous question, whether or not it was Barbatos that bestowed a love of freedom and wine to the people or whether or not the people nurtured Barbatos' love for freedom, why can't it be both? Barbatos saw the people suffering and next to the nameless bard, would come to understand the importance of their wishes and strive to make it so the people did not suffer again, even coming to the aid of Vennessa under the aristocracy centuries later.

It began with the people nurturing his love for freedom and ended with Barbatos carrying on their memories and ambitions, ensuring their efforts would not be in vain.

[aspiringtrashpanda]

Did you know the Salem Witch Trials memorial was raised in 1992, and the last convicted witch (Elizabeth Johnson Jr.) was officially exonerated in 2022 when the imprisonments and executions happened in 1692? Wild. Find the prompt list HERE.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

DAY 19 Prompt: Solomon Additional tags: Solomon's morally grey past, regret, angst

Twelve brisk steps from the wooden slats of the outdated square house, Solomon finds himself fenced in by a stone wall. The structure creeps just higher than his waist, and though the grout has begun to crumble between uneven edges and lopsided bricks formed through nature’s touch, the absence of any moss speaks of reverent care.

Satisfactory, Solomon decides, a solemn gaze sweeping over slabs of granite benches basked in dappled evening light. They could still do better, though. The rectangle of emerald sod, housing the oaks that protected engraved memories from too much exposure, remains well-kept and manicured, but a lack of real heart thrums within the memorial.

He supposes it is for good reason. 

Two long strides to the right, a daisy for Sarah. The knobs of the stems irritate Solomon’s palm, catch on his fingers as he makes his rounds. A larkspur for Martha. An aster for Susannah and a daffodil for Alice. 

“God knows I am innocent–” He reads aloud, his free hand tracing the truth that had been silenced with a rope. The stone says nothing in return, the wind still and lifeless. Though silvery strands had guided him mere moments ago, they now hang limp into his eyes, a constant reminder of the toes that dangled mere inches from safety. 

Salem haunts Solomon, a specter over his shoulder, a poltergeist in his coffee mug. Each sip turns the dark liquid crimson, sluggishly snaking down the ceramic to drip into the shallow graves at the foot of Gallows Hill. 

If he hadn’t–

If Ann hadn’t seen–

If only he had turned to face her, revealed himself to be the local apothecary, then perhaps the girls would never have picked up the hammer of injustice. When boredom is as potent a malady as smallpox, then hysteria is quick to spread.

The Putnam garden looms in his memory, lush with sage and elderberry, chamomile and marigold. He could have knocked, could have asked permission. Alas, a tonic from the previous night had rendered him haphazard, and a quick spell snipped the stems in favor of brevity. A dark shawl shielding bloodshot eyes from the morning sun, all Solomon had considered was the feather down of his bed. 

He had heard the gasp, the shriek of the young girl, the shrill demand to explain the impossible dissection of her garden without a spade in sight. Yet, he had fled, a nameless ghost of midnight rags billowing around him, his frame imperceptible.

The strike of the gavel wakes him in the middle of the night more often then he’d like. 

Solomon knows he is imperfection personified. Humanity he loved, he had lost, and though he shoulders their burdens, he cannot wash the blood from his hands. 

A thorn pricks his skin as he places a black rose beside Bridget’s date of birth, date of death. He lets the tiny incision leak ancient red into the curve of her initial. 

 It will not bring her back, but perhaps it will ease her spirit to know she lives on in his regrets. 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

The Salem Witch trials were actually bonkers. Check out the memorial site for more info.

OBEY ME! MONTH MASTERLIST

[quinnkdev]

Hi Quinn! As a huge An Outcry enthusiast and someone who struggles with finding names that feel comfortable to use and feel like "me" I found a lot of comfort in a trans character not having any name at all. I'm super curious about your thought process behind the unnamed being "unnamed"

There's a few reasons for that decision!

To an extent, it's an idea I expanded out from an old abandoned series of stories called the "Something Stories". These stories were an expression of non-binary feelings before I even knew what that was! The protag of those stories had no name and no gender, using it/its pronouns. It'd find itself in a whole host of different situations and roles: A soldier, an unhoused person, the author... That series of stories never showed up anywhere because it was pretty bad in a few respects, but it did hone my skills at writing multi-perspective narratives, and my use of language games. An Outcry was first conceived when that series had just been wrapped up, so some of the ideas from it were still fresh in my mind.

The Unnamed's namelessness was supposed to fake the player out a little bit; make them believe they're playing a blank slate when in actuality, the character they play has quite a bit of personality of their own.

It was also intended as a symbol of the ubiquitous nature of many of their experiences and struggles, and, alternatively, of their many flaws as a character. The Unnamed, despite their specificity, is merely a single person struggling in the ways that the game shows - one of many.

There's one more under the cut, as it constitutes a spoiler:

There's a little out-of-the-way passage in An Outcry, when you sit down before the convo with Esma and Anne rather than helping Esma set down the tea-tray:

It ties Aster's namelessness to their struggles with mental health, and to an internalisation of the shoddy treatment they received over being gender non-conforming. It's an expression of that noxious demand the world puts on trans people:

"Before you get to have this nice thing that makes you feel better, you need to pass, and get surgery, and do what we tell you to. Except it's up to our whims if you'll get it at all! Dance!! Dance, monkey, for our amusement, and don't you dare be happy!!"

Aster's mental health struggles (and all the ways they're expressed in the snippet of their life we see) - their underweightness, their agoraphobia, their addiction, their struggles with using their chosen name, their suicidal ideation - are often a direct result of how they are treated by the world around them: Their parents, Eisen, Schmitt, Alex, strangers in the street - hell, to a small extent, even Anne.

Namelessness is, therefore, an extension of how worthless the world views them - And it's no coincidence that the Shrikes will consistently call them "nameless" as a result.

Aster, up until the inciting incident of the game, was a very passive person, and in that way, they soaked up how others derogatised them like a sponge.

---

There's a lot more to say about this, but I think the rest I'll leave up to interpretation.

[s0lar-ch3ri]

theory time!

so reasoning as to why i cant reblog the other one is just cause it doesnt allow videos when i reblog now which sucks but whatever so yeah! its a jrwi theory again, and whatever future info i have was 99% gathered from the wiki (the remaining one percent might not even show up in this theory so ye), and of course theres spoilers for the black rose one shot AND riptide pirates (dont have any exsct eps, all i can say is im at ep 101 now so anything before that is kinda fair game)

for the original theory post

k so we gonna put that one clip (scroll message, about a minute long) and talk about it, def mention all the connections gill would have with the black sea, shit like that

apologies for the buggy clip, just needed to add this and when i recorded i was in school aka just recorded like this for less risk, lets talk about the message though.

"a map that is a guide and a key passed around the hands of destiny, it leads to chaos infinity beneath the seas, the garden giant, the nameless prince, the unborn kings, all await to be inevitably free"

i think in my og theory post i talked on how gill was very connected to the black sea imo so how does all this tie in? lets do some quick lil notes first

ok so the scroll of legend lore has been held onto by gillion, the one closest to destiny's ties, and has not been used until now

chaos infinity while refering to the black sea could also be an undersea thing, what with the leviathins (nobody else remember how the pearl shard gillion has came from one? and how the pearl was never supposed to even see the light of day probs let alone be in some cat mans evil base? just me?)

while i wanna say aster mythborne aeiliana shes not real here so she cant be garden giant

BUT we do have a known leviathin(? could just be a dragon turtle) named duke who has plant shit and is controlled by a gollieth

nameless prince is everso chip coded but we looking all across our board here so yeah

it could apply that the "nameless prince" could refer to someone "unnamed" who holds power like that prince from edison kingdom or smth

it could also reference marshal jon, who's canon first name has been forgotten and canon last name is jon

unborn kings? honestly while i dont think chip's bit of mpreg is apart of this i think the lady inspiring it (aka aslana's mom) has some relations to this whole thing

we all read "kings" btw so theres probs multiple yall

would goobleck count? he is goobleck he must apply someway

non-literal one again? maybe their monsters or smth

wait to be free. huh. gee, i wonder, will the door nightmare with arlin come into play here. thatd be so fun. yeah. ahahaha im losing myself

okay okay maybe its not all clear and i honestly have had this as a draft for too long (as shown below)

BUT ill reblog this later cause ill really just be using text and images and shit

whats the basic idea? this is def where the oath from the sword comes into play (murdering destiny), with the whole "the black sea twists you" thing we may get hints of killion or even dark gillion again, the thign about it being a "key" might imply like a 'this means that' type deal rather then being actually a key, the chaos isnt really referring to the black sea but the state of the undersea in general (lost champion becomign criminal, ally shit gone, oversea war, etc), unnamed prince is either someone we havent met yet or someone who we dont expect to have a return (ie: were deemed before as not really lore relevant), and the unborn kings are monsters, oh and the garden giant isnt arlin but something related to the duke! THIS HAS TO CONNECT TO THE LEVIATHINS FR

some details/info about gill/things related to gill so i write this better:

"You promise to slay all evil before thee, crack corruption that takes hold of this world, strike swiftly enough to split the seas, and even if the thread of fate poses an obstacle against us, we shall sever it"

A hero born of moonlight, storm and sea. / They shall rise or fall to bring unity. / They will be tested or bested by evil’s hand. / By their choice one will remain: sea or land.

[socialmediasocrates]

YOUR PRINCESS IS IN A DIFFERENT CASTLE: a wip intro

Genres: fairy tale retelling, fantasy, adventure, romance, new adult

Status: plotting

Tropes: Knight in Sour Armor, Earn Your Happy Ending, The Power of Love, Don't You Dare Pity Me!, Boy Meets Girl, Girl in the Tower, Be Careful What You Wish For

In short: Two unremarkable side characters try to rescue their love interests from a demon who doesn't even know who they are...oh, yeah, and save the storyscape, that, too.

Synopsis

The starborn is among the last of its kind, doomed to a lonely eternity in the Graveyard of the Stars...or it was. Until a kitchen runner accidentally summoned it and botched the entire ritual. Now the starborn is Aster, a pathetic little man with an equally pathetic little crush. Grappling with suddenly having humanity thrust upon it was not in the Design. Being a nameless filler character in a story it doesn't even know was not in the Design. Inheriting an infatuation with Theobroma Cirolla, a pastry chef with the temperament of a wet cat on a good day, was not in the Design. But the starborn is making a valiant effort at doing all of the above, all the way until the day one of his own kin devours his story, steals Theo away, and casts him into the broader storyscape.

Forced to join forces with shepherdess-turned-witch Beata, Aster strikes out to save Theo, go back to his quiet, unbothered existence, and save the fabric of reality, in that order. None of this was in the Design, but the Design is unraveling. Along with his last goddamn nerve.

Characters

ASTER

The food runner was squishy where he wasn't gangly and bony, unevenly freckled all over, the image of earnest mundanity. It takes the starborn a solid week to get used to using these clumsy, slow feet, and nearly a week longer to adapt to the surprising strength of the arms and upper back. It trips over Aster's uselessly long legs all too often, sending trays laden with foot and drink scattering, shattering, and splattering all over rugs that look expensive. Nobody even seems surprised by this. At least it's slotting itself neatly into Aster's life.

THEO

Aster had thought the pastry chef called "Theobroma Cirolla" or "Theo, unless you want a finger chopped off" was the most beautiful person he'd ever laid eyes on. This, unfortunately, colors the starborn's perception of her, too. She is small, even for a human. Soft, composed entirely of curved lines and circles. The hair that peaks out from beneath her scarves is densely curly and roughly the color of melted chocolate. Her eyes are big and brown and ringed with heavy, dark eyelashes, and her skin is always a little flushed from the ovens. She refuses to lift her chin to look him in the eye. She is always looking up at him through that screen of eyelashes, and she is always looking at him like he's a cockroach in her bread basket. And the entire time, it is endlessly, hopelessly charmed.

BEATA

He thinks that you would end up with someone that looks like her if you took a cloud, dipped it in gold glitter, and sculpted a person out of it. The mystery woman has puffy wheat-blonde hair and deeply tanned skin and, most crucially, a shepherd's crook that bleeds magic. It is nearly blinding to look at. He has to blink four times for his sight to clear enough to make her out again; by then, he's more or less determined to avoid her at all costs. She is perched on a fence, waving to get his attention, a welcoming smile edged with venom on her face and a feral sort of panic in the tension of her shoulders. He wants nothing to do with her. Because life is never about what he wants, though, she is directly in his path.

FAUST

Now, give a good think to what you would do in Faust's shoes. You made a deal with a demon because you wanted people to like you better. It blew up in your face. The demon is now threatening to unravel the fabric of reality and ascend to godhood, and you are being rescued at this exact moment. If you think that you'd be a little grateful, it's because you're not Faust. Faust grins one of those stupid grins. He holds up some twisted chunk of metal in his hand and opens his mouth to say something. He never gets to, though, because Beata throws her shoe at him.

[cambriancutie]

yay yuri recommendations

nameless asterism is pretty good love triangle yuri and not in the horror genre

besides that my other yuri recommendations are all visual novels + half horror so yeahb list

la vita nuova (yuri not main focus & toxic but uts such a good vn)

reflexia (same as the prior but it's more of a focus)

it gets so lonely here

drmwrldgrl (not really horror but is yuri and surreal)

heartlovepowertemple (same as prior)

good morning is a social construct (same as prior)

could do more but linking takes a while

yay! ill def check these out!

[asterhaze]

There Will Be No More Strawberries

• Original Work •

Copyright © 2023. Aster Haze. All rights reserved.

I hate strawberries. Their dimpled outside squishes easily, even with a delicate touch, and their sickly sweet fragrance sticks to my fingers even after I have washed them ten times. There is something about their smell, their texture, all of them that seems so fake, so manufactured, so artificially perfected that I find it strange that others like them so much. Strawberries are my brother's favorite fruit.

I also hate bananas. It isn't necessarily their flavor, though bland and uninteresting, that disgusts me. It's their texture. So squishy yet stringy, too easy to eat, mush barely held together by near-flake fibers. They should be good, since they're okay dried, but they're not. Bananas are my grandmother's favorite fruit.

I hate chocolate the most. Sugary dirt. Gritty on my tongue even when smooth. Melts in your throat even if you try to swallow it whole. The smell is enough to make me gag, yet I am one of a kind. Unless they're allergic, I have found that chocolate is one of everyone's favorite treats.

In 90 seconds there will be no more strawberries. In 90 seconds there will be no more bananas. In 90 seconds there will be no more chocolate because no matter how much we love something, how much we care for something, how much we want those things to still exist for those that come after us, there are people like me who care so little for their existence that their absence will be of so little consequence that we will simply forget they were ever there. My life will not change if there are no more strawberries or bananas or chocolate or chocolate dipped fruit. My life will go on.

There is a man who sits in a fancy chair in front of a beautiful desk with his 70-year-old hand resting on the handle of a telephone. This man has a voice so powerful that he can command a dead hand to shoo away the lives of every living thing. Every human, every animal, every strawberry, every banana, and every cacao tree will have its DNA wiped from the face of the earth with the back of death's hand. Like eraser shavings.

There is a man who stands on a tall podium, speaking over the begging screams of his people, and he tells men and women in designer suits with important titles that if he doesn't get what he wants, he will forget us under lovely dots. There are lovely dots on the map. There are lovely dots on every country and every major city in the world. The humans and the strawberries and the bananas and the chocolate bars are so small, you can't even see them. Just the dots.

Will the people who take those lovely dots off of the map replant our fields after the dead hand moves? Will the man who wants to take us with him into the abyss if we don't bend to his will make us chocolate after the fires stop burning? Will the men and women in designer suits pass out bananas and strawberries when the winter fades and the door to their bunkers open up? Will they pass them out to us?

Do the faces of unimportant people with regular titles, bargain suits, and small voices matter if they live below those lovely dots? Are they as insignificant as strawberries, bananas, and chocolate? Less so since they're not the important people's favorites? Even less because they can always make more of themselves if the dead hand forgets to sweep them away?

One day the dead hand will move and it will keep its assured promise. The hand has only so many fingers to point with and can only smudge so many lovely dots away. Nameless faces will find a way to roam the earth again, to rebuild, to survive the poisonous snow and salted earth. Without fresh strawberries. Without bananas. Without chocolate.

But if my brother is still alive, God forbid, he will feel their absence and he will miss the taste of a ripe strawberry picked from his father's garden in summer to replace the ashen taste that rots his tongue. One day if my grandmother is still alive, God forbid, she will wake up hungry and wish there was something easy for her to peel and tear with shaky aged hands, and something soft and easily mushed with her tired gums. After midnight there are no more bananas, no more easy foods, and no more favorites.

Years ago someone found a tree with pods growing on its branches, cracked them open, and between them and their many ancestors they figured out how to make all sorts of chocolatey treats for me to hate and everyone else to enjoy. Hours ago someone looked at a green bundle of leaves with tiny red berries and spent the rest of their life experimenting, learning, and cultivating that tiny patch so the fruit would grow bigger and stronger. Minutes ago someone found out how to take the seeds out of bananas and then clone them so that every single banana that grows from a cloned tree tastes almost exactly the same. While all of this was happening, kingdoms and dynasties rose and fell. Countries were born, lived, grabbed by the throat, and took their final breaths as they were absorbed by countries with bigger hands.

All of this fantastic knowledge is kept in quiet books that were invented minutes ago. Since books are big and heavy, noisy devices powered by controlled lightning were invented seconds ago so all of that knowledge can live in our pocket. In 91 seconds the fires will start and all the books will burn and anyone who survives under the lovely dots won't want to read anyway since there will be nothing to read. In 91 seconds all of the smart parts of those noisy devices will melt like the small parts of people, only less goopy.

All of the records of those hours and minutes and seconds will be wiped away in 90 seconds so that when my brother and my grandmother and I die no one will ever think of strawberries or bananas or chocolate or America or Russia or Europe or China. Because after 90 seconds have long passed, after the dead hand lays mummified by the poison snow in the salted earth, there will be nothing left of this earth that any of us living now will recognize. And our descendents will have no strawberries, bananas, chocolate, or great countries' ideals to remember because there are also no books or noisy devices.

Only the silence, the lack thereof, the stories and the tales passed night by night as children are tucked in their rags.

[anriwritess]

How the kids were adopted

Aster

One moment she was begging for her life, trembling against the wall as they drugged her again and the next moment everything turned to white and she felt at peace for a change. Had she died? Was it all over? Was she in heaven? Was-

"Huh? This brat is quite the looker," a gruff voice spoke up and her eyes flew open, dazedly registering her surroundings. 

She was in an alleyway. Her hands looked small, way too small for someone her age. This didn't look like heaven at all. Instead it reminded her of her childhood. The man, who had been standing behind her, apparently didn't like to be ignored. She flinched when he slapped her and picked her up by her collar. 

"Are ya dumb or what?!" he yelled with his spit flying everywhere.

She continued to look at him dumbly. Her stinging cheek assured her that she wasn't dreaming. Her eyes trailed downwards and landed on her hands again. She could also see her reflection in the man's eyes. She wasn't the Saintess of Gaia's church anymore, she was just a nameless brat on the street with nothing to her name.  

And now she was being sold in an auction. Joy. 

She closed her eyes and settled comfortably against the hulking figure. They wouldn't want to damage the goods before the auction hopefully. How had she escaped from becoming a slave last time? Her brows furrowed when she came up with a blank. Had all that torture ruined her mind and destroyed all her memories? 

Her entire childhood felt like a blank canvas. The only memories she seemed to have were of the Saintess that was loved by all, the real Saintess- the masses called her, the Saintess who tortured her everyday in the name of entertainment and stole her holy power all because she was a mere commoner while the Saintess was a noble. 

Aster wondered if she had been a noble herself she wouldn't have been reviled so deeply. At least people wouldn't have rejoiced at her death. 

—-----

She didn’t get a chance to escape. 

Aster clenched the bars of the cage she had been unceremoniously stuffed into and looked around. There were a lot of people, or goods, as the men in charge of the auction liked to call them. There was even an elf there too….even if he was half naked. 

For a second she doubted her eyes but the ethereal beauty was unmatched, just like the books said. The blonde hair cascaded down his slim back, still lustrous despite the deplorable conditions they had been through. She couldn’t see his face but it would undoubtedly be handsome. 

Glancing away from the elf, she spied the other prisoners. Some were crying, some screaming and there were also some who hadn’t regained their consciousness since they had been kidnapped. 

‘Everyone but the elf,’ Aster thought, her eyes once again going back to the glossy hair. She wondered if her hair would’ve been as glamorous as his’ if she hadn’t been rotting away for the last eight years , deep down in the bowels of the church, brought out only when they had to participate in war. 

Unbeknownst to her, the ‘elf’ in question was also observing her. 

‘What a strange child,’ Leo thought amusedly. He pretended not to notice the stares digging into his back and continued zoning out. The kid was a really weird one. Even the adults were crying, shivering or hunched over themselves in their cages but not once did she show any signs of fear. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Leo watched her eyes roving over his hair and at his fake elf ears. It was also the reason why he was here in the first place. The auctioneers wanted to see something ‘exotic’ but sadly for them, he was just a normal human (normal my ass)

When zoning out didn't work as intended, he turned to the strange child. 

“Good evening”

Aster stared blankly at the man, wondering if she misheard. Perhaps the whole traveling back in time thing was messing up her brain. When she didn’t respond for another two minutes, he repeated, ”Good evening.”

“G-good evening..?” Aster mumbled, half stunned from the gorgeous face -it was even prettier than she had imagined- and half from the sudden turn of conversation. 

“How did you get caught up in,” Leo gestures in the workers’ direction vaguely,“-all this.”

“I was sold.”

“Ah”

And that was the end of the conversation. Aster wondered if she should have asked something back, of how he ended up here, or why he wasn’t afraid. 

A horn blew up at that moment, signifying the beginning of the auction. The dread she hadn’t been feeling, or partially ignoring, came back in full force. She had no idea what was going to happen to her. If it had been her older self, she had some inkling what they would do to her but right now she was only 5 years old. A somewhat pretty 5 year old for a street urchin. She couldn’t be too sure of the intentions of the one who will buy her. Will it be an investment for the future, when she finally grows up into a beautiful woman or… well she doesn’t want to think about it anymore. 

It wasn’t like she was the limelight of today’s auction anyway. 

Aster’s eyes once again found their way to the elf’s hair. She withdrew her gaze when their eyes met. His blue eyes had an air of mischief around them. Her face flushed at being caught red handed with her staring. Salvaging the situation seemed troublesome. She intended to turn around and pretend that it wasn’t her who had been burning holes in his back with her eyes but realized this might be the last time she would see him again.

“Your hair,” words tumbled out before she could stop herself. “They’re really shiny…and pretty.” 

“Oh?” Leo’s mouth turned up slightly and his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Why, thank you.”

Aster fumbled a little, unsure of how to proceed. One of the workers started heading in her direction. It was her turn to get sold to the highest bidder apparently. 

“My hair!” the pitch of her voice turned up a notch, now underlying with urgency. “Will it be as beautiful as yours?!” 

In contrast to her rising hysteria, Leo was as calm as a lake at the top of a mountain. 

“Hm, now that is a difficult question you ask, young lady.”

Blue eyes met baby blue ones and he stared at the mess she called her hair, in consideration. 

“If you follow these men and walk past the curtain, then I am certain it won’t ever be as lustrous as mine.”

Well, Aster knew that. There was no need to be so direct about it though. 

“You will either be recycled back into the slave trade after being bought, most probably sold at a higher price somewhere else,” Aster cringed, knowing that was the most likely option,” Or you might get bought by a rich noble, raised like a canary locked away in a gilded cage and abandoned at the drop of the hat whenever they see fit, when you are no longer useful for them.”

Now, wasn’t that hitting too close to home? Her eyes glazed over as the memories of her days at the church flooded over. How they dressed her up when she had to pretend to be the real saintess (no one cared if she was indeed the real one. To them she would always be a fake) because said saintess didn’t want to step foot in the slum area and get contaminated by all the filth (humans) there. Aster knew that very well, having been called hundreds of times before, ‘In case you forgot about your origins’ the real saintess had said. 

The worker drew closer and she really needed to stop muddling in those memories. The elf really didn’t sugar coat things at all. At least it was better than empty promises. 

“Or I could also teach you how to care for your hair until they become as lustrous and radiant as mine.”

“Ye- huh?”

“Do you want to learn-”

“-I can come with you?!!” Aster burst out, unable to contain her astonishment. Even if it was just for a moment, as long as she could get out. 

“Well of course. Unless you have a place to stay, which I find highly unlikely.”

Aster didn’t have anything to her name except, well, her name. Staying with this elf for a few days did not sound bad either. She would probably be able to find her own way after having a good night’s sleep. Having been thrust face first into an auction was not a pleasant way to start a new life after all. 

Leo, seemingly having read the thoughts churning wildly in her mind, continued. 

“And this technique isn't something one masters in a day. It would take years, even ten or twenty for you to have hair as glossy as this.” 

“.....!!!!” 

Aster’s mouth flew open in stupefaction. The offer was too good to be true. There had to be a catch. Besides, wasn’t this elf too suspicious? How did the auctioneers even get their hands on a reclusive being such as elves in the middle of their kingdom? Didn’t the elves live on the other side of the continent? And who said this man wouldn’t sell her at the drop of the hat? Why did she think he was a viable option? 

Watching her expression change as a myriad of emotions whirl inside her was amusing. Leo stopped himself from smiling as the desperate, sad and lonely look changed to bewildered joy at his offer and then to suspicion when said offer turned out to be too good to be true.

‘This kid wasn’t stupid after all’

Aster was in a strange conundrum. She had two paths now. Getting sold to the old geezers outside or getting kidnapped (was it kidnapping if she consented to getting kidnapped first?) by this strange man. Who was also half naked. Why had she forgotten this little fact again? Did they take his clothes away or had he arrived here like that? The workers seemed to avoid approaching him for some reason so the chances of the former being true were minimal. In that case, wasn’t she essentially consenting to run away with a more dangerous individual?

Leo waited for her to come to a decision and glared at the worker who had been scurrying towards their cages. The man flinched and stumbled back. Satisfied by the response, Leo turned his attention back to the child.

“So?”

Well the gods be damned. It was better to be kidnapped by this elf rather than being bought by nobility. She had enough of those in her last life. New life, new people. Might as well get kidnapped by another species. Perhaps her life would be more interesting this time around. And she might end up learning the secret to his glossy hair even if that had been a farce to kidnap her. 

“I…I will go with you!” Aster yelled, breathing heavily as a strange sense of relief washed over her. 

Was it because of the way his eyes turned soft, as if he was extremely proud of her? Or when he reached out his hand to pat her head? Aster didn’t know and she didn’t care. 

In all the chaos she had forgotten about a very important thing. 

Both of them were locked up. How was he going to take her away?!

Panic consumed her all over again when she spotted the worker moving towards her cage (where had he disappeared off to all this time?)

“H-how will we escape? It’s too late. I..”

“Hush now. You did well,” he patted her head again. “Leave the rest to me.”

Just as he finished saying so, his eyes glowed a bright blue and all the cages opened. Before the workers or the captives could realize what happened, an explosion rocked the whole building. 

KA-BOOM!

And just like that, Aster’s world was thrown into chaos a second time since she regressed. Something told her it wouldn’t be the last. She was plucked off the ground and settled against his chest just as the pandemonium broke. There wasn’t any time to freak out over the explosion as he took her away, into the interior of the building instead of going farther away as she had thought. 

“Why?!” Aster’s voice was lost over the din of screaming and weapons being drawn. She was too busy clutching the hair she had been admiring, to marvel at the way Leo easily weaved through the crowd and how no one tried to stop him either. A wave of sleepiness washed over her and she fought to keep her eyes open.

-

The way to the treasury wasn't a long one. That is, if you have magic and a wife you shared a telepathic connection with. It barely took a few minutes for him to reach his destination. It would’ve been better if they hadn’t arrived to the sight of his wife strangling the auction master though. He had no idea how their new daughter would react to it. Or Agnes, as a matter of fact. He had conveniently forgotten to mention about this little detour he had taken. Or the harvests procured from said detour. 

“What had I told-”,Agnes paused when she spotted Aster, huddled in Leo’s arms and watching her with curious eyes. 

“...” 

She gazed at the child dumbly, her grip slacking over and inadvertently saving the auction master from being choked to death. 

Aster stared back timidly, unsure of how to react. This woman looked very stern. And very strong if strangling that rotund man single handedly was anything to go by. She was also this elf’s partner in crime if not something more. That meant Aster would have to see more of her later and it would be wise to not offend her right off the bat. 

Just as she had been contemplating on how to greet the fearsome woman, the elf spoke up. 

“I gave birth to our child while you were gallivanting and strangling people. Say hello”

“???????????” Aster whipped her head in his direction, a thousand questions at the tip of her tongue. 

What birth?! What daughter?! Wasn’t she getting kidnapped?!!! And wasn’t he a man?! Could male elves give birth?!!!

In the bafflement caused by his words, Aster didn't notice Agnes approaching until she was standing right behind her

“Hello”

“Hiek-!!”

Agnes ignored the shriek and ruffled Aster’s matted hair. “Call me father”

Dazzled by the smile thrown her way, Aster parroted back unconsciously. “Father?”

“What a good child. Come on, let's take the money first and then go home.” 

“Money..?” After being dumped with all the life altering information, Aster didn’t know where to start. The money seemed like a good point to start with.

“Of course money. We have a new child to raise now,” Leo answered and blew open the locked door. Agnes kicked the auction master when he let out one last, mournful scream at his money being stolen before fainting. 

Faced by the sight of piles and piles worth of gold coins and innumerable jewels, Aster decided to look at the bright side of things (quite literally) and ignore everything happening in the background (Her new father(?) beating up the guards) 

“Heh, I wouldn’t have to work for another year with all this money,” Leo mumbled, the slightest of insanity dipping into his voice as he shoved everything into his spatial pouch. 

And Aster could respect that. Probably. Not having to work after being forced to work like a dog in her last life sounded very satisfying. She was sure there were some rules against the saintess being greedy but did she care anymore? No. 

New life, new people, new rules. Even if said people were extremely eccentric and borderline insane as she would learn in the near future. And yet despite it all, Aster wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[heatwa-ves]

hi. please tell me more about your ocs 🙏

gladly!!!

okay so. im still figuring out nias backstory but my basic idea for now is she was raised in a village and the inhabitants were very religious. the current village leaders came to the place during a time of great hardship and helped them out and introduced this (currently nameless) god and told everyone hey this god saved you all and whatever. nia found solace in this religion because she was lonely as a child and not particularly close with her family. she had a few siblings I think but the only one who really matters is her older sister who she isn't close to but really looked up to (I don't have a name for her yet. oops)

at this point in time nia is like. early teens? and her sister is late teens and has been investigating the village particularly the leaders because she's suspicious. after some digging she discovers the whole thing was an elaborate lie made by their alleged saviours to exploit the village and steal all the offerings the villagers left for their god. she tells this to nia (they're by like an alter for offerings or something) who freaks out because her entire world as she knows it has just been changed and she lashes out at her sister and pushes her, and her sister hits her head badly on the altar and the blunt force trauma kills her and nia is there with blood on her hands and her god is dead and her sister is dead and isn't that kind of the same thing? the other villagers see this and her own parents chase her out convinced she's the devil or whatever.

still figuring out what happens next but eventually she ends up in the main setting of my story (nameless entertainment district of nameless city 💖 ((can you tell I'm bad at naming things))) and at the current point of the story she's in her mid twenties.

she's still very religious and her point of view is that whether this god is a fabrication or not they were real to her and important to her so she still believes in them even if they're just a god to one person. she believes she's a bad person and will never see heaven but remains strongly religious. kind of like tatsumi tbh.

I was gonna talk about her relationship with aster but I've typed more than I expected on just her backstory so I'll talk about them another time just know they like. are fundamentally at odds with eachother because of clashing worldviews and they don't really get along but they're very gay about it I think if they made out it would fix them or make them worse idk.