#aster's writing

[whumpsandwhimpers]

Breaking Skin

Read on AO3 here!

For day 1 of @juneofdoom, for all four prompts: "Where Am I?" | Slurred Speech | Duct Tape | Darkness

Fandom: Supernatural

Contains: Mind games (?), psychological whump, creepy-ish Whumper, manhandling, slight eye whump

Summary:

He was going to be sick. Sam almost wished that it was actually Dean who wanted to punish him now.

...

What awoke Sam at last was the dull pounding inside his head, as if his brain was a battering ram against the inside of his skull. He let out a quiet groan, shifting his head. There was something sticky on the back of his scalp, and blood trickling down his lip, making his mouth taste like iron. All he could hear was the steady drip of water echoing in the small, surrounding space.

Finally, he managed to open his eyes, only to be met with darkness.

"Where…" he coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. Even through the pounding in his head, he could tell that his voice was slurred. "Where am I…?"

Sam's ears rang slightly in the silence that met his words.

He tried to sit up and clutch his head, only for his body to refuse to move. He frowned slightly, pulling at his arms, only for them to yank harshly against the restraints that had his wrists shackled and pinned to the wall behind him. There also seemed to be another, thicker metal collar locked around his neck, keeping his head pinned in place. He couldn't move the upper half of his body more than a few inches.

Okay, stay calm… "Dean??"

His voice echoed against the walls, and he gritted his teeth, trying to remember what had happened and where the hell he was. He squinted as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness. From what he could see, he he seemed to be in a sewer system (again). At least, that was what he assumed, judging by the pipes surrounding him, the dripping water, and—well, the smell. And clearly he'd been captured. But by who? Or, more likely, what?

Then he remembered. The changeling. The one that had taken Dean's form and had planned to kill him. Except… The real Dean had rushed in just in time to stop him. But before he'd had the chance to see Dean shoot it, Sam had passed out.

… so, he had to assume Dean hadn't been able to yet, judging from the fact that he was now back in the sewers and shackled to a wall.

Footsteps sounded then, and Sam immediately jerked his head upwards to see… Dean, walking towards him with a wide, wolfish grin.

Not Dean, then.

"Look who's finally awake," the changeling cooed, using Dean's voice. He bent down, grinning at Sam with all of his teeth. Dean never smiled like that. "My baby brother."

"You're not my brother," Sam snapped, glaring at him. "Where am I."

The changeling tsked, reaching out to roughly tousle his hair. Sam grunted as a sharp pain flared from his scalp, but he was shackled too tightly to be able to jerk away. So instead he narrowed his eyes in what Dean called his "bitchy death glare". The changeling laughed, too cruel-sounding to be Dean. "Aw, don't be like that, Sammy. That's no way to look at your big brother."

It sounded so wrong, hearing his voice like that.

"You're not my big brother," Sam breathed once again, his voice venomous. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"What'd I do to him?" the changeling laughed, his hand fisting his hair and pulling painfully at the wound in his scalp. "Nothin'. Maybe beat him around a little. But he should be alive."

"Should be??"

The changeling smiled, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. "He'd be a pathetic excuse of a hunter if he wasn't."

Sam clenched his jaw as the changeling removed his hand from his head, then sat cross-legged in front of him, smirking in a way that should've only been for when Dean teased him. "As for your oh so insightful question, I'd say you have a lot better ones to ask. Like what I'm planning to do to you."

"Oh?" Sam asked, his voice biting. "And what happened to killing me and framing my brother for it? 'Suddenly lost your nerve?"

"Oh, no, not at all," the changeling chuckled, playing with the amulet that he had stolen from Dean's neck, and Sam wished he could rip it off the bastard's neck and strangle him with it. "Not at all. In fact, after that meddlesome son of a bitch burst in and tried to shoot me, I realized…"

The changeling's hand suddenly snapped out to grip his jaw, and Sam's eyes widened slightly, a choked noise of surprise escaping him as he tried in vain to pull away. But the fingernails only dug deeper into his skin as his grin grew even more crazed.

"Well, I realized that death is too good for you, Sammy boy."

He leaned closer, and Sam involuntarily held his breath as he felt warm, moist air brush against his ear.

"I realized… that it's time you faced some punishment for all the years you've hurt me. Because bad boys need to be punished." Dean's face smiled. "At least, that's what dad taught me."

Sam couldn't breathe as he finally pulled away, and the pain and anger in Dean's voice was so real that for a second he almost believed him. His chest heaved shallowly as he stared at the face of his brother, staring right back at him with a hatred that didn't belong on it.

"Dean—Dean would never—"

"I'd never what??" he asked mockingly, laughing as he reached into his pockets. "Aren't you high and mighty, choosing what I would or wouldn't do? Have you forgotten who's the elder here?"

He pulled out a roll of duct tape, grinning evilly at him. "But that's just like you, isn't it? Spoiled little Sammy, always getting what he wants, always being doted on, always getting away with everything."

Sam's eyes were glassy as he stared right back at him, breaths too fast as he clenched his shaking fists. "You're not my brother," was all Sam could manage for the last time, and his voice sounded more desperate than he wanted it to. Almost like a whine, pleading and small, just like the last time he had begged Dean to let him go.

But this time, his brother's voice laughed.

"Don't worry. I'll forgive you eventually," he said, as he slowly unrolled the tape. "You just gotta prove to me that you're sorry first."

Sam struggled feebly as the duct tape was smoothed over his mouth, then wrapped in layers over the lower half of his face. Sam glared weakly as the makeshift gag became tighter and tigher, biting into his skin, his breaths heavy through his nose as any words he attempted were now muffled by the endless layers of tape. He couldn't help jumping as more duct tape was applied over his open eyes, the adhesive pressing uncomfortably against his eyeballs, wrapping around his head in several more layers before finally finishing.

"There we go. Nice and quiet," Dean's voice chuckled. He smoothed the tape down a bit more over his lips, then his eyes, which were now stuck open. Once he was finished, he patted Sam's cheek roughly, causing him to flinch. Only Sam's nose and the top of his head were visible now, his hair drenched with sweat.

"I'll have to get you a proper gag eventually, but for now, this will do."

Sam let out a muffled whimper as he pulled desperately against his restraints, his entire body trembling with growing panic and claustrophobia. He felt the hand tightly grip his hair once again, causing him to let out an involuntary, muffled cry.

"Oh. And you wanna know how painful it is for me when I shift? When I gotta tear the flesh off my own bones, like a sick little catterpillar? You wanna know how it feels?"

Sam didn't respond. He couldn't. And he flinched as Dean's voice chuckled into his ear.

"Well, you will. Don't you worry. And don't worry about your little Becky either. We're far, far away from her. At least she won't have to hear you scream."

His laughter was low, as Sam's head was forcefully shoved against the wall behind him.

"Bitch."

Sam's eyes were fully tearing up now, the tape making it nearly impossible for the liquid to escape. His head slumped like a ragdoll's as much as the collar would allow once his hair was finally released, and the footsteps slowly faded away.

The implications of those last words were probably the most frightening of them all. Even more frightening somehow than the prospect of having his flesh torn off him. Because it meant that… that he was far away from Dean. Dean wouldn't be around to hear him scream.

Dean had no idea where he was.

He was going to be sick. Sam almost wished that it was actually Dean who wanted to punish him now.

tag list: @thelazywitchphotographer

[plangentlyre]

Jennifer sitting on a tree stump as she cradles Jessica's head on her lap. She combs through her hair, fiddling with the blue and white flowers looped around her oak-colored locks.

She sleeps there, humming in a way that allows her to know Jessica is dreaming of those grassy plains she spoke of. For a moment, she's peaceful in her rest but then she shuffles, pressing her head persistently against Jennifer's palms.

A tear slips from the corner of her eyes and Jennifer catches them, cupping the side of her cheek gently. She continues to whimper and cry, and when Jessica comes to grip onto the girl's jacket, she whispers, scared and desperate, "...Jennifer..."

Perhaps it isn't the wisest choice in this circumstance but Jennifer lifts her other hand next to Jessica's ear and snaps her fingers. She even bounces her feet, urging the half-deer girl to wake up from her nightmare as she calls out her name.

It isn't until her patience is thinning out that the whines stop and a pair of mossy green eyes come to stare at her through a blurry lens. She whispers again when they clear, a hint of relief and uncertainty coating her voice. "Is that you... Jennifer?"

She huffs at her. "Who else would it be? Are you okay?"

"You're... You're here." Her gaze melts, wearing a lopsided and dopey grin as she does.

And as much as Jennifer wishes to smack her with sense, she can't help but cave in to Jessica's irresistible charm.

"Of course I am." Once more, she pets the top of her head fondly. "I promised, didn't I?"

[0asterous0]

Love Ranch Masterpost.

☪ ･━━━━━━━━━━━━ art credit: @antwuzhere

- Summary -

After years of working together in "Ranchers Revenge", Jimmy and Tango suddenly have a competition, as a new ranch finds its place in the fields across from their own. "Love Ranch" is now in business, and they have to face the new rancher in town to keep their place in the market.

On the other side of the fields, Scott is already regretting his life choices. Whose idea was it to set up a therapy counselling basically on a farm? Ah, right.. his.

!!The fic is #Trafficshipping!!

✎ ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

- Worldbuilding-

ೋ Official designs! -|- Scott, Tango, and Jimmy -|- Love Ranch lineup (Scott, Cleo, Martyn, Skizz) -|-

✎ ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

- Chapters -

ೋ [Coming soon]

✎ ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

- Tags -

#Love Ranch AU - All my AU related posts will be here!!

#Love Ranch Talk - a place where I answer your questions about characters/events/worldbuilding. You can post yourself under that tag, or send questions into the box, and I will make sure to reply to your questions, theories, ideas, and interpretations.

#Love Ranch Fanart - If I get you invested enough for you to draw fanart of the AU or write something about this world with your vision, I will be REALLY happy to see it! You can tag the hashtag AND me, if you want!!

[marciaillust]

Asterism book cover

[goldenasters]

im going to start posting some of my original stories on side blogs. this one is for my original story Perdida Dead Zone, and i'll be posting some of my OCs from it in the near future.

follow me there if you want. or don't. i don't own you.

SETTING: Perdida County High & Saint Lirio Catholic School

An eerie small coastal town tucked between long-abandoned citrus groves and a fog-swept shoreline. Closer to the Atlantic than Ocala, Perdida feels like a place both too old and too young to be on the map—always under construction or falling apart, depending on who you ask.

Locals whisper about the town’s strange weather, its missing persons cases, its lingering sense of grief. It's as if the ground itself remembers too much. Cell reception is patchy, the sea smells wrong, and the same posters for long-dead pets seem to stay stapled to telephone poles for years.

Brandon, an older teen with a troubled home life, runs a modest but loyal paranormal YouTube channel where he investigates the town’s unsettling rumors, ghost sightings, and unexplainable events. Each mystery he uncovers pulls him, and his growing circle of allies, deeper into the darkness beneath Perdida’s crumbling surface.

Perdida High:

Demographic: A working-class, diverse public school attended by mostly local-born students and immigrant families (especially Puerto Rican and Filipino).

History: Originally a 1920s boys’ reform school for “wayward youth,” the institution was notorious for punishing boys for everything from talking back to being gay. Many students were reportedly beaten to death in basement classrooms and behind the gymnasium—though official records were mysteriously scrubbed in the 1950s. The school was shut down after a brief investigation, then quietly reopened decades later as a standard public high school. Its violent history was never officially acknowledged.

Reputation: Derisively called “ghetto” by Saint Lirio students and known for a great place to party, fight, or do drugs. Locals say you can still hear weeping in the old storage wings and smell blood in the showers when it rains.

Security: Several police officers are stationed on campus daily.

Students: Brandon and Adrian

Saint Lirio Academy:

Demographic: Primarily white and wealthy, with a mix of old money families and well-connected recent immigrants from Europe. If students are able to pass an exam with enough points, they are given a grant to attend Saint Lirio.

Aesthetic: Gothic, dark-academia campus with sharp spires, cloister gardens, and stone archways.

History: Founded in 1877 by a Spanish missionary sect known as the Order of Saint Lirio, the school was built on what was once Timucua burial land. The missionary claimed to have received a divine vision from the Virgin Mary—whose statue still stands at the edge of the chapel courtyard, cracked but untouched by graffiti. Students say her eyes bleed during eclipses. Over the past century, at least eleven students have died by suicide on Saint Lirio’s campus. The most infamous case—known as The Marian Incident—involved a girl who vanished from the chapel, only for her body to be found months later, nailed to the underside of the church bell. The school blames the students failing mental health on not believing in God strong enough. If you are not happy, then you must not be connecting with Him strongly enough.

Reputation: Students from Perdida believe that students are Saint Lirio are uptight and super conservative, straight, white, and Christian. They think the students are brainwashed, though all of the students at Perdida secretly envy them.

Students: Valerie, Gabriel, and Sloane

[mookmayor]

something something content that caters specifically to myself

[asterdex]

i've seen people joke about it but... is there any kind of consensus within the community regarding the player and Gaster's relationship? is it something that everybody just naturally agrees on and doesn't talk about it because there's no point to it or am I just going crazy on my own??

like yeah sure, first and foremost, we have the tweets written by Gaster himself and addressing the player, either rejoicing in seeing us showing the same kind of interest and fascination in him that he does for us, or describing how wonderful and special that "connection" we have is, how it makes him feel to be connected with us and how specifically "beautiful" and "exciting" it is for him to enter in contact with us.

Or talking about HE and WE specifically feel about each other, and going on about creating something together, as partners- i mean as a team.

And then we have the Goner Maker sequence, during which he keeps going on and on about how "wonderful" our creation is, guiding us step by step towards the realization of the EMBODIMENT of a player's freedom in a video game : their own avatar. Gaster is the only one in this game who is actively giving the player that much freedom, who is trying so hard to accomodate the player, to fulfill their wants and needs.

(unsure if it still needs to be said nowaday but no, the person discarding our vessel isn't Gaster, they talk in a different typer (given the fact Gaster's typers are always 666 or 667, it seems important to note that this new person talk in typer 2), not using any upper-cases, and not remotely talking in the same way (in japanese even more obviously than in english : Gaster talks in broken katakana japanese with some kanji while the other voice talk in hiragana and complex kanji. they also don't use the same second person pronouns when talking to the player), so yes, Gaster is STILL the character who seems to (at least in appearance) want THE MOST the player to be the most confortable possible, out of every other character in this game)

This idea of Gaster giving the player AS MUCH freedom as he can, in a world that seemes to be DESIGNED for us not to have any freedom, is first obviously supported by the way he is takling about "CREATING A NEW FUTURE" with our help, suggesting that OUR power as a player should be able to change the future and that it is in his interests for us to find the freedom leading us to that "NEW FUTURE", but it is also implied with the fact it seems that it is Gaster who is giving us access to three different save files, as we can see him talk and comment each one of our actions in the menu of an incomplete Ch1.

Gaster is ON THE PLAYER'S SIDE. or at the very least, he's doing a very good job at pretending he is. And it makes sense for him to be the only character who seems to INCONDITIONALLY support the player : he's the only one who seems to truly understand WHAT is the player, at least more than every other characters in this game. (there's an argument to be made about Ralsei, who seems to also only want the player's happiness, but 1. he doesn't really have the power to accomodate the player like Gaster does, so each one of his attempt to please us either end in just giving us fake hope, or being cancelled out by Susie (who seems to naturally oppose the player whenever she does something), and 2. unlike Gaster, Ralsei is CLEARLY suffering from always trying to please everyone else, especially the player, for whom he believes he needs to play the role of a LITERAL background character who's only here to serve and make them happy. Ralsei suffers from trying to please the player, while it seems like Gaster only gets enjoyment out of it, repeatedly stating that being connected to us is as wonderful for him as it is for us)

And the way Gaster views the player has become a bit clearer with his Ch3 and 4 messages, that can be used on top of his usual Game Over dialogues to suggest that he is watching us play at all times, is rooting for us, knows things about how this world works that we don't and is willing to give hints when he feels like it is necessary, and can be genuinely impressed by "our power", supposedly our determination and/our our pure game skills.

His Game Over message could even be interpreted as him trying to emotionally manipulate us into trying again, even when we told him we've given up, telling us how our absence led the world to be "covered in darkness", before cueing a very sad rendition of his own theme before closing the game after 66 seconds. Bro is literally looking at us through the screen with the saddest look in his eyes trying to coax us into trying again by making us feel bad. Maybe he DOES really need us as much as he says he does.

And maybe the most interesting recent dialogues of them all, at the end of Ch4, he congratulates the player for making it this far, quickly mentions how long we will need to wait for the next chapter/connection... Before refering to Deltarune as "HIS" DELTARUNE??

Up until that very moment, Gaster has always talked about "the future", "this world" as a 'team effort', always including us in the realization of it all, making us feel like we WERE an important part of whatever scheme he has in mind... Hell, sometimes he even talks as if THE PLAYER'S actiosn were actually ALSO his ("SHALL WE HASTEN?" against the Knight, when in reality the player is doing all the hard work here), which didn't seem strange because as a TEAM, that kind of way to speak is pretty normal. but in this moment, it somewhat feels like Gaster is trying, or at least thinking about taking ownership over everything "we" have created together. Was it his intention since the beginning, or is he just stating to love this game/world so much he's subconsciously seeing it as "his" and having troubles sharing it with the other person who helped reaching its realization? or maybe are we not completely understanding our role in his plan yet?

And all of this, all of this weird undertone of codependant relationship between Gaster and the player, this mutual fascination and genuine feelings for one another, whatever those feelings can be, ALL OF THIS without even talking about the Demon/Angel parallels we could ALSO talk about regarding how the relationship between those two transdimensional entity could go.

Let's assume the player is the Angel. (The Angel is said to "light up the path" of believers, the player's soul's distinctive power is to produce light on its own. The Angel is said to be "watching over" the world and people, the player's pov seems to come from the sky, from "HEAVEN" some could say. The Angel is traditionally represented without facial features, as Noelle and Dess's doll's description at the hospital points out, and the we are unable to see how the Angel looks like in the prophecy, which would make a lot of sense if the Angel was supposed to be the player, someone who, inherently, has to be faceless to represent ALL of us. The player's soul gets trapped under an Angel doll at Noelle's house. The Titan we see in Ch4 uses a lot of the imagery typically associated with the Angel, and first appears with an image suggesting a "real human face". That is SOME of the reasons why it's easy to assume the player is the Angel, at least in SOME versions of DR's reality (for example it would be possible for Noelle to take the role of the Angel in a Weird Route or something, the same way the Angel was two people at the same time in UT ; one benevolent Angel, and one Angel of Death, depending on the run the player is doing)).

Gaster has always been associated with demonic symbolism, the most obvious of which being the repeated connection he has with the number "6" : the typer associated with him is 666, in both UT and DR, his hidden stats in UT are filled with 6s, each one of the funvalues directly calling him by name are all happening between 61 and 65 (which is also why it is so commonly accepted to say that the mystery man from the funvalue 66 is supposed to represent Gaster himself in some way), the theme DARKNESS FALLS, as previously mentionned, is 66s seconds long, etc...

Interestingly enough, supporting the interpretation of these "666" as being the Devil's number, Gaster also made an appearance in the "demon text" of UT during a very short period of time : alongside a text CLEARLY written by Chara, "the demon who comes when people call its name", another line appeared in PRECISELY the version 1.05A of the game, saying "HE IS". (for more information on the demon texts if you are interested here is a post by Underlore talking about it)

It makes sense for Chara to be present in the DEMON text, because they call themself a demon, and it makes sense for Gaster to be there as well, as he's so often associated with the number 6. and ironically enough, while Chara is the demon who comes when people call its name, when we first name them at the beginning of the game, we are UNABLE to write or hear the name of Gaster in most playthrough. In a way, it's as if he's specifically a foil to Chara, the demon who comes when people DOESN'T call its name, haha.

And this makes sense with WHAT Chara is supposed to be : Chara is the player's completionist will, what pushes them to conquer and consume every last bit of a game, leaving nothing left behind them, metaphorically "destroying" worlds for their own entertainment. But, because of his very special status in the game, Gaster just cannot be "consumed" like every other content can ; he is often the very last thing keeping people interested in UT, when everything else has been read and analyzed, only him stays "unsolved", everything one can know and believe to understand about him feeling like a bottomless pit of endless possibilities. Literally the one thing the player needs to satiate Chara. Endless content, because incomplete.

Gaster has always given the player what they wanted, ever since UT. He is in a way the opposite force opposing the player's will to SEE and DO everything, because he is the content they will never be able to SEE and TRULY interact with, but this is this exact force that makes the player feels so connected to the world ; if the content is seemingly endless because unreachable, then the illusion of a fictional world being infinite is achieved. and as a result, the player becomes obsessed with that world that seems oh so real.

Because of this duality between these two, it could be easy to suggest the possibility that Gaster isn't "just" a demon, but The Devil, acting as a counterpart to The Angel, the player. After all, it is Gaster with whom we made a suspicious deal at the very beginning of DR, giving him our SOUL regardless of what the consequences would be.

Who else would offer a deal with such absolute conditions than the Devil itself, the one who is represented by the number 666, the one who we are told to "beware" from the very first time we hear about him.

All of this to say i do not think it would be so wild to assume that, with everything that we know about how the player's and Gaster's goals, wants and ENTIRE EXISTENCES allign but also complete one another, it wouldn't be so out there to believe that maybe, similarly to how Flowey in UT became obsessed with the player because they were the only person existing at a similar plane of existence as him, the player and Gaster would develop very strong feelings for one another, because they are the only ones in this fictional world who see it as a fictional world, the only ones who understand one another, and who can help each other effortlessly, simply by following their own instincts.

TL;DR i ship the player and Gaster and i made it everybody else's problem

[samosadude]

transistor au me and some friends were tossing around…

[childrenofcain-if]

That one scenario where C and MC have a kid has my heart completely 😭 Can we get a follow up for that? How are things going on in the joint household? I'm also very curious to see what C would name their kid 🤭

the hershey’s kisses glinted in the late afternoon sun, crinkled foil catching the golden light that streamed in through the window. aster sat cross-legged on the sofa, a small island of contentment in the messy sprawl of school bags and discarded socks she’d left in her wake.

she was humming under her breath as she unwrapped another piece of chocolate, oblivious to the way her shoes lay in two opposite corners of the room and how her lunchbox sat precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table.

you leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and watching her with the detached amusement of a parent who knows they’ll have to clean up the mess but hasn’t yet summoned the energy to do so.

C was in the armchair, one foot propped on the edge of the ottoman, clicking through their macbook with half an eye on aster. it was domesticity in its sweetest form, the kind you don’t think about when you’re young and idealistic, imagining love and family like perfect polaroids on a wall.

“did you give her those?” C asked suddenly, their voice louder than the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

you blinked and set your coffee down, moving closer to inspect the crumpled foil wrappers littered around aster.

“nope,” you said after a beat. “not exactly either of our flavor. that’s… what is that, cherry? we don’t have those in the house.”

C arched a brow, and without missing a beat, turned their full attention to your daughter.

“aster,” they said, voice soft but with a worried edge, “where did you get the chocolates?”

aster’s head snapped up, her chalcedony green eyes lighting up with excitement.

“felix gave them to me!” she said, her grin wide enough to show the little gap where her front tooth had fallen out last week.

C froze, their hand tightening slightly on the edge of their macbook. you, on the other hand, were far more amused.

“felix, huh?” you said, crouching slightly to meet aster’s eye level. “and who’s felix again?”

her grin grew impossibly wider as she happily declared: “my boyfriend!”

you chuckled, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “oh, really? you have a boyfriend now, kleine ster? when did this happen?”

“this morning actually!” aster exclaimed, bouncing a little on the cushions. “he gave me the chocolates at recess and said he liked me, and i said i liked him too, and now we’re boyfriend and girlfriend!”

C’s eye twitched, a muscle jumping just beneath the surface. they sat up straighter, their attention now fully honed on your seven-year-old’s revelation.

“did he now?” they said, their voice tight. “and what else did this... felix boy say?”

aster frowned, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “uh… he said i could have the last red crayon in art class.”

“generous of him,” they muttered darkly, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“C,” you said warningly, but they ignored you, leaning forward with the intense focus of someone about to conduct an interrogation.

“and does this felix… hold your hand?” they asked, their tone too casual to be actually genuine.

“sometimes,” aster admitted, her brows knitting together.

C’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “does he share his lunch with you?”

“yeah, today he gave me his oreos!”

C’s jaw twitched. you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“C,” you said again, a little louder this time. “let it go, darling. they’re just kids.”

but they were too far gone now, leaning forward as though proximity might grant them any sort of control over the situation.

“aster,” they said with all the solemnity of someone at a funeral, “you can’t have a boyfriend. you’re too young. your brain isn’t fully developed. you’ll... you’ll explode! you’ll leave your parents all alone then and it’ll make us very sad.”

aster blinked at them, unwrapping another hershey’s kiss with deliberate slowness.

“i will explode?” she asked, clearly confused by this turn of events.

you rolled your eyes. “no, you wo—”

“yes, you will,” C insisted, cutting you off. “and anyway, you’re not allowed to date anyone until you’re like 30 and paying taxes. it’s a rule.”

“that’s not a rule,” aster said with the stubborn certainty of someone who knew she was right. she really was her parents’ daughter. “and felix is a good boy.”

“‘good,’” C muttered under their breath, glaring at the imaginary felix as though he was lurking in the shadows, waiting to hand their precious little star another chocolate. “i’m going to fight this seven-year-old.”

“C!” you snapped, stepping between them and placing a hand on C’s shoulder. “calm down, my love. it’s harmless.”

C leaned back reluctantly, their gaze flicking between you and aster, who was now watching them like they’d sprouted a second head.

“fine,” they grumbled, crossing their arms over their chest.

***

after dinner, aster sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a tiny instruction manual for building LEGOs with the intensity of someone decoding the human genome. her fingers, small but deft, picked up pieces and slotted them into place, her movements sure and deliberate.

C sat beside her, their long legs folded awkwardly beneath them, one hand bracing their bad knee. their fingers worked slower than hers, more hesitantly. the gap between them—her bright enthusiasm, their cautious quiet—was almost laughable. but C didn’t laugh.

they watched her instead.

aster had inherited their stubbornness, the precision of their thoughts, the way they spoke with certainty even when they were wrong, the hard-headed refusal to back down in the face of a challenge. but she’d also inherited your warmth, your easy charisma, the way people seemed to orbit around you like you were some kind of gravitational force.

she was both of you, but neither of you. something wholly her own. and she shone so brilliantly.

“non,” aster said suddenly, shaking her head. she spoke in a tone that was equal parts exasperated and amused, the way one might speak to a child who couldn’t quite grasp a simple concept. “that piece goes here. look.” she leaned over, plucking a flat blue brick from the pile and snapping it into place on the half-constructed spaceship.

“ah,” C said, their lips quirking into a faint smile. “of course, petite étoile. how foolish of me.”

she beamed proudly, her confidence growing with each small victory.

“it’s okay. you’re still learning,” she said magnanimously, patting their arm. honestly, it amused C greatly to see her reflect you back when you both argued everyday like your life depended on it.

C snorted, shaking their head. “merci, mademoiselle.”

“pas de problème,” she replied breezily, her accent and pronunciation impeccably like a parisian native.

C felt a pang of pride so sharp it was almost painful. french had been one of their gifts to her, a piece of their heritage they had handed down like an heirloom. and she had taken to it effortlessly, as if it had always been hers.

she slipped between languages with a grace that left C in awe, her young mind absorbing everything like a sponge.

“wat is dit?” she asked suddenly, holding up a strange piece they hadn’t encountered yet.

“hmm,” you said from where you were sprawled on the couch, your legs stretched out and a book resting on your chest. you barely looked up as you answered her in dutch, explaining what the piece was and where it might fit.

aster nodded thoughtfully, her small fingers turning the piece over as she considered its possibilities. C watched her, their heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief.

how could someone so small hold so much brilliance? how could she be so much more than they had ever dared to imagine for themself?

“do you think felix likes LEGOs?” aster asked suddenly, breaking their reverie. she was staring at them now, her eyes—C’s eyes, pale green and perceptive—narrowed in thought.

C felt their jaw tighten at the mention of the boy, the ghost of their earlier irritation flickering to life.

“i have no idea,” they said evenly, focusing on the spaceship.

aster tilted her head, clearly unconvinced by their tone.

“he’s nice,” she said firmly, as though this simple fact should erase all of C’s doubts.

“i’m sure he is,” C said, their tone carefully neutral.

you glanced up from your book, smirking slightly as you watched the exchange. let it go, your eyes seemed to say.

but it wasn’t that simple.

it wasn’t about this felix boy, not really. it was about aster, about the inexorable passage of time, about the impossibility of holding on to something as fragile and fleeting as childhood. she was growing up, and there was nothing C could do to stop it.

C reached for another LEGO brick, their fingers brushing against aster’s. she looked up at them, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“tu vas bien?” she asked, her voice soft and earnest.

the question caught them off guard. for a moment, they didn’t know how to respond. how could they explain the tangled mess of emotions that had been simmering inside them all day? how could they tell her that the thought of her growing up terrified them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate?

“i’m fine, petite étoile,” they said eventually, forcing a smile. “just tired.”

she seemed to accept this, turning her attention back to the spaceship. but C couldn’t help noticing the small furrow in her brow, the way her hands moved more slowly now, as if she was trying to puzzle something out.

they watched her in silence, their heart aching with a strange, bittersweet kind of love.

***

later, when the spaceship was complete and aster had been tucked into bed, C found themself sitting on the edge of your shared bed, their head in their hands.

“okay,” you said, sitting beside them. “do you want to talk about what exactly is bothering you, my love?”

they sighed, looking up at you now.

“it’s just… strange,” they said, their voice low and tired. “she’s growing up so fast. too fast. i feel like i blinked, and suddenly she’s not my little girl anymore.”

you stayed quiet, letting them find the words.

“i still remember holding her in my arms for the first time,” they continued, their voice thick with emotion. “i remember her first steps, her first word, the first time she looked at me and called out for me. and now… now she’s talking about boyfriends and whatnot.”

they let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through their hair. “i didn’t have this. a proper childhood. a father who cared. i don’t know what i’m doing half the time. i just… i look at her, and i love her so much it terrifies me. so much so that i still don’t understand how my father could—”

“hey,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on their arm. “you’re nothing like him. you’re such a wonderful parent, C. she loves you so much. you can see it every time she looks at you. and yeah, it’s hard watching her grow up. but that’s the deal. you love them, and you let them go, little by little, so they can become who they’re meant to be.”

C nodded slowly, their eyes softening as they looked at you. “i know you’re right.”

you leaned in, pressing a kiss to their temple. “of course i’m right, i always am.”

they rolled their eyes, but a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of their mouth.

“do you think…” they hesitated, the tips of their ears turning adorably red. “do you think we should have another one?”

“another what?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

they scowled, burying their face in your neck.

“you know what i mean,” they mumbled, their voice muffled. “don’t make me say it out loud.”

you laughed, stroking their hair. “we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

but you already knew the answer.

[bajablast666]

Kelrath doesn't lie, he just waits until Kaethan's asleep to ever tell the truth

[missingmelody]

Gardening

[plangentlyre]

If there is one thing Ichika learned about Lady Saki's tea parties, it is that one must always bring a plate of pastries as a gift.

"Oh! These are quite delicious! I urge you to tell me where you've bought these beloved cookies, Icchan!"

Even the blend of milk cannot dampen the sweet flavor that melts in Lady Saki's mouth as she cups the side of her cheek, munching on the treat gleefully.

Ichika stares at her cute expression fondly. "I just happened to read a recipe, is all. Although I couldn't have done everything without a friend's help." It was a miracle that Honami had the patience to guide her through each step without catching fire from her recklessness.

"Well," Lady Saki gulps from her teacup before continuing, "I think you did quite well, even if you think you couldn't without help. But, I would have liked it more if you invited me."

Inviting a noble lady, regardless of whether they're close friends or not, is too much of a shameless act to do.

"Ah... It might have been presumptuous to ask—"

"Nonsense!" The plates clatter from the lady's harsh impact on the table. "I cherish your company more than boring, old lectures. After all, Icchan is the bestest friend I could have! Cooking together is what friends do, is it not?"

"Y-Yes," Ichika stammers, feeling warmth crawling up her cheeks, "but it is still your duty to study as the duke's daughter and I would be disturbing you with my unimportant business."

Lady Saki's lips press into a thin line. "Even so, I want to spend time with you. And–and it makes me a little jealous that someone helped you cook other than me..." She admits in a shy whisper.

And doesn't that melt Ichika's heart even further. "My lady," she is given a pointed stare and she rectifies, "Saki, I would never replace your company with someone else's but as your personal guard, I must also prioritize your duties as an heiress." And your safety, she keeps to herself as she knows it will only upset her even more.

The title paired with her words deflates Lady Saki's resolve. It has been years since her brother's disappearance after the accident and months since she's been issued the duties in preparation for taking the family's mantle as duchess. The absence in their home has only made her clingier with each day that passes.

Ichika can only help her with so much, even if it means bringing cookies to their tea parties through her incredibly amateur culinary skills. "But I do have a secret."

"Secret?"

She smiles. "Yes. I also happened to hear that a particular tutor has taken an illness and that there might be a few vacant hours in place of someone's sessions. That's why, if it's no problem for Saki, would you..."

"Of course!" Expectedly, Lady Saki brightens as she clutches on her sleeves, rejuvenated. "We can also have a picnic by the fountain! I'll have the maids prepare everything, we can also play a couple of games and redecorate the gardens with ribbons and–"

"How about we plan it slowly, Saki?" She intervenes gently, knowing full well how passionate Lady Saki's tangents can be.

"Right, right. Let me grab some pen and paper from my bedroom." She says as she picks up her dress, already on her heels to run across the mansion's hallways.

"Calmly, Saki. Here," Ichika offers her arm, "allow me to accompany you."

A delightful giggle bursts from her friend's lips then she feels a gloved hand slide in place with her arm. Lady Saki turns a starry gaze at her.

"Shall we go, Ichika?"

Ichika complies with a content nod. At least this way she can alleviate enough of the worries and responsibilities Saki endures everyday. She can merely hope that everything will turn out well for both of their futures.

Of course, as life always is, it all goes downhill.

"Duke and Duchess Tenma have been assassinated. Young Lord Tsukasa remains missing and Lady Saki has not left her room for a week. What should we do, Hoshino-san?"

[aster-daydream404]

I CAN’T STAND THEM!!!

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Nu carnival markings ♦️

Yakumo

You'll have to ask a few times before you'll do anything. The only stipulation is no biting. He's so afraid his teeth will be too sharp. That he'll hurt you. That you'll hate him for it. So he leaves soft hisses until you give him those big puppy eyes he's weak to. Then he'll give you hickeys. Tiny ones that last maybe 3 days, and peppers them all over. He makes them easy to hide if you want, but he blushes every time he sees one.

Edmond

You have to BEG him to mark you. Eventually he will give in. You don't even have to be in the bedroom when your nagging finally makes him snap. He grabs your forearm tight, and brings your wrists up. Chomping down to leave a mean looking mark right on your pulse point. He sounds angry, scolding you for harassing a knight on duty, but you can see the slight pink on his ears as he suppresses a blush.

Olivine

Any marks he leaves on you are completely accidental. Mostly bruises from his fingertips. He's so strong that sometimes in the heat of the moment he can't help but grab a little too hard. If he sees the marks while you're still fucking he'll mumble dumbly about how beautiful they look on you. His voice reverent. Though if he notices them after, his post nut clarity will make him feel so guilty. He will kiss each one to make them feel better.

Quincy

He doesn't usually let himself get carried away enough to mark you. However, on the rare occasion that he does, you're going to have a massive bite mark on your throat. Not the meaty parts. I mean throat. One set of teeth on either jugular, with your windpipe in between. He loves it. You look so good bearing his mark. Like it fulfills something so primal and pure inside him. He'll leave bites in other places too. Convenient places where he doesn't get a chance to think before chomping down. Your shoulder, maybe your leg as it's hooked over his shoulder, your hand that was resting on his shoulder a moment ago…

Kuya

He will be that jerk who leaves a hickey right under your jawline. Super visible and impossible to hide. He does it to annoy you mostly. Now, if somehow he gives in to that urge to mark an actual claim on you, you won't notice him bite the base of your nape, but you'll feel it every time you move your head. A constant reminder, subtle as it is. He'll deny it means anything. Unfortunately the only ones who will know what it really means are Quincy and Karu, so he's a little cautious when they come around. Not that you notice the slight edge he gets because he hides it so well. He can't have you knowing just how much you mean to him.

Blade

He read in a book that people bite the crux of the neck and shoulder. So he does. Not hard, but with shark teeth like his it really doesn't take much to leave a deep mark. He likes watching hickeys turn colors on your skin. Says it's so pretty! And that the sounds you make are so cute! Of course he thinks it's cute. This is still Blade we're talking about.

Garu

Scratches all down your back. His teeth ache to sink into you, but he's so scared to hurt you. Instead leaving thin red marks like rivers on the landscape of your back. Maybe some on your chest. Or really anywhere that he grabs for purchase.

Karu

Anywhere he can. Seriously. It's part of his wolf nature to want to mark and claim his mate. Lots of bites of varying depth and location. Some are even hard enough to draw blood. He'll lick the wounds clean later, or at least Garu will. He's so proud when you walk around with his bites visible, and gets mad when you try to cover them up. Seriously, don't try to cover all of them unless you want him jealous and giving you more in spots you can't hide.

Dante

He won't leave any marks on you until he is smitten, but of course he will never admit it. So one day when he's sucking your fingers so he can watch you prep yourself, he just gives a little nibble. Okay, maybe not little. Hard enough to leave a deep imprint of his teeth around the base of your ring finger. He claims it means nothing, but every time he looks at it his stomach twists with the words he wishes he could say.

Rei

He doesn't really have a preference where he marks you. So for a while he'll mark multiple spots. See where you like it best. Eventually he does enjoy it. The way it makes you gasp and squirm. The way your fingers ghost over the marks for days after. Who would have thought something so small could get so many interesting reactions.

Eiden

Can't go wrong with a classic hickey on the collar bone! He's respectful enough to ask before leaving anything in a visible location, but once he gets permission he gets that fucking smirk on his face. He's so teasing with it. Licking and asking if this is where you want the next one. Going so agonizingly slow. Afterwards he massages the areas so it doesn't hurt as much. He likes the action of marking rather than the marks themselves.

Aster

Bites on the neck? I mean, yeah. That kinda comes with the territory of being a vampire. He's less territorial than some of the others, and says he doesn't care if you cover up his marks. While it's true he may not be as possessive as say Dante, Kuya, or Karu, he still gets fussy when you intentionally cover his bites. Makes him feel like you're rejecting him in an intimate way that he doesn't really understand or want to confront.

Morvay

He LOVES leaving hickeys on your upper inner thighs, and your lower stomach. Framing his favorite part of your body. He likes being the only one to see all the marks, but he also loves when your shirt rides up and he, and others, just get a tiny peek at the marks he left on you.

[astermath]

hiya! i’m a really big fan of your stranger things work and I was wondering, if youre comfortable of course, a steve x reader period imagine where reader tried to hide their period from Steve, but he finds out and is super fluffy and sweet about it? thank you!

HAHAH wow i have let this ask stew in my inbox since last year thats CRAZY im so sorry my dear,, i was going through old asks and i rlly like this prompt actually so here u go, i hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, obv mentions of periods / menstruation, reader is referred to as female, steve being dense at first lol, regular sized font below!

wc: 1.4K

notes: while the reader in this fic is female, i am well aware not everyone who has a period is a girl, and not everyone who's a girl has a period!

Steve is one attentive boyfriend.

It’s the early stages of your relationship, the golden era, the honeymoon phase. And while you’re a still a bit nervous about it all, you couldn’t be happier, because he does it all right.

He knows your favourite snacks, what music you like, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He’s starting to figure out your ins and outs, and it’s almost crazy how quickly he’s catching on. You have no reason to feel judged by him at any point, he truly is comfort poured into the shape of a person.

So then why are you staring at your phone right now, struggling to dial his number and just tell him why you can’t make it to your date?

It’s not usually this bad, at least it hadn’t been for a while, so why now, of all moments, must you be forsaken to be terrorised by your period?

You bite your lip, laying flat onto your bed, hand over your lower stomach. It's right where the pain is just gnawing at you, just like the guilt is. But you know you’d feel even guiltier if you just stood him up, he doesn’t deserve that. You sit up, a tad slowly to save yourself from another cramp, and swallow your nerves for now.

“I’ll just… Tell him I’m sick. Yeah… Yeah I can do that.” You think to yourself.

The combination of his number had started to feel natural to your fingers now, unlike how anxiously you pressed the buttons the first time, triple checking before finally pressing call. You're triple checking again now, more so because you're not sure you can handle hearing the defeat in his voice when you tell him you can't make it.

The phone barely gets a moment to ring before he picks it up, and his all too familiar sweet voice comes through the device.

"Hey babe, everything okay over there?"

You pause a moment before replying. "How did you know it was me calling?"

"Lover's intuition." He chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter. It's not fair how easy it is for him to do that to you, but you enjoy it nonetheless. "So, what's going on?"

"I, uh..." God, getting the words out is like pulling teeth. But you'd rather die than let him think you just got cold feet about your movie date. "I'm really not feeling too well right now, Steve... I'm-- I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight." Your eyes are welling up with tears before he even gets a chance to reply, just imagining his pretty face losing its bright expression when hearing your unfortunate news.

"Oh," damnit, he does sound sad, "that's okay, uhm... Is there anything I can do? What kinda sick is it?"

Shit, he's gonna make you say it, isn't he? You know Steve is a mature guy, he knows about periods, knows how they work, but you've been told to suck it up and get on with it before... A part of you is still disappointed that you just can't.

"U-Uhm... It's more like, a stomach thing, I guess?" It's the best way you can put it for now, hoping it'll put his worries to rest.

"Okay, I see..." You can nearly hear him thinking, the subtle noise of bags being moved and a fridge being opened coming through the phone. "Uh, how aboouuut... I come over to yours, and we just watch a movie at home? I still got a couple of tapes we haven't gotten to, and I can bring some light snacks that won't upset your stomach too much."

The thought of Steve caring for you while you're sick sends a warm feeling through your entire body. God, how does he just keep getting better? But you can't lie to him, right? It's not like you're really sick, unless you count the curse of menstruation as a symptom.

Before you get a chance to explain, he's talking again, and by the ruckus in the background you can only guess he's rushing to grab all his stuff. "I'll be heading out in a bit, I'll stop by the corner store too, stay put for me alright? See ya in a bit!"

You're sure he didn't realize he wasn't letting you talk, but frankly, you probably couldn't even come up with a response on time anyways. Right now, you just have to worry about looking somewhat presentable, and maybe figure out a way to tell him you're not actually sick.

By the time you've brushed your hair and brushed some mascara onto your lashes, you're already hearing the doorbell. You just manage to pull a fresh shirt over your head, before stumbling down the stairs and stopping in front of the door. With a deep, loaded, sigh you open it, to reveal your boyfriend.

Hair messed up, plastic bag in hand, jacket haphazardly thrown on. He clearly rushed to be here, still panting a little, but in your eyes, he's the image of your guardian angel, your saviour in need.

Before either of you know it, you're crying again, your freshly applied mascara now leaving thin black streaks over your cheeks. Your hands go up to cover your face, embarrassed, not even sure why you're sobbing all of a sudden. The feelings just hit you like a freight train, rocking you before you even have a time to rationalize.

Steve's expression falters, the bag he had in hand dropping to the floor in an instant, stepping in closer so he can carefully wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. Not too tight, he doesn't want to startle you. He's a bit distraught; he's really only seen you cry at a sad movie scene before, so he's a bit unsure as to what's caught you to be so upset right now.

"I-I'm sorry..." you manage to mutter through your incoherent sobs and sniffs, effectively ruining the front of his shirt in the process.

"Hey, hey..." His big hands go up to your face, gently cupping your wettened cheeks as he looks into your teary eyes. Hell, the image of you is almost enough to make him break too. "What're you sorry for? You can't help it that you're sick, right?"

The reminder of your lie makes you want to break eye contact in shame, but it's hard to force yourself to lose sight of that soft, caring gaze of his.

"I," sniff, "I lied, I'm so sorry Steve, I-- I'm not sick, I just... I have..."

He watches you expectedly, not upset, just curious. You'd surely have your reasons if whatever caused you to cancel is making you this upset.

"I'm... I'm just on my period and it-- it hurts really bad, it's not even usually this bad, and I felt like I was overreacting and I feel so bad and--" Your ramble gets cut short by his chuckle, the same one that nearly caused you to melt over the phone earlier.

"W-Wha... Why are you laughing?" You're not sure if you should be happy or worried, you're already experiencing so much at once, it's hard to pick one emotion to feel.

"Nothing, it's just, well," he picks up the bag he dropped, opening it slightly to show the bars of chocolate, candy and your favorite chips inside. "I had a feeling."

The sight of it makes you snap out of your state of distress, and you can’t help but crack a smile through your tears. “Seriously? How?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “I told you, lover’s intuition.” He pulls you back to him and kisses your head. “There’s another bag in the car with chicken soup in case I was wrong.”

You both laugh, just hugging on your doorstep for a moment. You have to let it sink in, that maybe Steve just is that sweet and considerate of a guy.

“D’you wanna go inside, or does standing outside help with cramps?” He pulls back a little, and you fight the urge to poke him in the ribs for his sarcasm. You love it either way.

“Yeah, let’s go inside. We can watch When Harry Met Sally and I can cry my eyes out again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

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[aster-draws]

Hey did you guys know that google docs has a character limit?

Cause I learned something new today :)