#red egg

[dramoor]

~Christ is Risen! Truly He is Risen~

[ahtheprettythings]

[kaiju-wolfdragon]

Drawings from the dino smashers pt 1

[draconixiaa]

Below the Bedrock Layer // Palace of Crimson

[Major Character Death] [Ao3] [@dreblrspookyweek]

Once upon a time…

There was a palace.

A palace of a wealthy man. It had [bloody] red carpets, [poisoned] fine dining, and lights that flickered in and out of darkness, bringing life and death… falsity and truth.

And before it was the palace of a wealthy man, it was the home of an old man.

A man who has lived since ancient times, bearing witness to many lives and deaths and deceptions and clarities; a man whose soul was distraught and weary and needed comfort and rest.

Because this man dies and lives again: he is immortal through death, a phoenix unburning.

This man was murdered in this palace.

“Huberttt~,” cried Billiam, in his usual drawl, “Your contract period is almost over!”

Hubert, sterling hair and whitened eyes, was hiding behind a stone pillar. Eyes squeezed closed- 

Breathing jagged, gasping quietly-

and hands squeezing behind his back.

In the damp air of the basement, the sound of pacing was drawing nearer.

Hubert was the old master of the mansion.

A building hidden serenely away from civilization in the midst of a grand forest- Hubert’s masterpiece.

“It’s been ten years, Hubert,” Billiam’s voice slithered across the austere stone- which was polished to perfection without a glimmer of dust.

And soon to be spilled with Hubert’s viscous blood.

Hubert had been Billiam’s butler for ten years. The keeper of this mansion for twenty more. He had finished building it thirty years ago, and had begun its construction by the fortieth mark back in time.

Ten years ago, Billiam came to this mansion with a wicked sword between his fists and held it at Hubert’s throat as he signed in red ink his butlership.

Five years ago, Hubert realized his death was not too far away.

“Oh, butlerrr~! How much longer can you hide?!”

The steps grew closer.

He tensed.

Gripped the wall.

Five years ago, the crimson tendrils appeared from beneath the bedrock.

[As they always did.]

Hubert thought it was a bizarre, yet familiar sight that brought him both nostalgia and dread. Yet he had no memory of it.

He was but a builder and a butler, and nothing more.

…Sometimes though, Hubert felt a bit more kinship with the raven that knocked on his doors.

Every day, month, year that passed-

Hubert felt a bit closer to death’s door.

The steps paused.

“I’ve found-”

Hubert used his grip on the pillar to propel himself away.

“-you!”

He had gone in the wrong direction.

“There’s no more space to flee!” Billiam’s glassy sword coruscates with a terrible rufescent light, his voice echoing through the chamber. “There’s no more time you can buy!”

The Egg was shivering beneath his feet. Its tendrils grasped at his legs. 

He stepped backwards through its entanglement… Strangely, he felt as if they were soothing him.

A sense of unity and calm amidst the terror of oblivion.

Billiam strode towards him, his pristine white suit pink under the Egg’s soft glow.

“Do you have any last words?” Billiam hummed, a humorous light in his mahogany eyes. Mahogany- the reddish kind.

Hubert’s back touched the soft shell of the Egg.

“I… don’t,” he replied in a higher pitch than what he had expected. “Uhm… make it fast?”

“You’re not going to beg?” Billiam’s voice lifted. He had stopped just a meter in front of Hubert.

Hubert offers a dry laugh. 

Then in one fluid motion-

Ducked,

Threw himself forward,

Tumbled,

And thrusted himself off the ground into what would’ve been a sprint…

Had not Billiam been too slow to react.

Hubert collapsed into the ground on his side, blade slit through his chest.

Surreal, the pool of blood.

Infinite, his awareness of the moment.

The agony and numbness in his torso.

The whiteness coursing through his conscious body.

The Egg enshrouding him.

Billiam, screeching in panic.

And Hubert realized, a silver thread snapping in his mind-

He was the Egg. 

The Egg was him.

And now they were one again.

Now that his body had returned to the bedrock, his soul too, had a place to go.

In fact, the Egg was the bitterness in his soul welling up upon the world.

Hubert, who was no longer just Hubert, but also Cornelius, Dream, and many other names that he could then recall, felt vengeful.

Vengeful, and hungry.

He [the Egg] must sustain himself [itself] until [he] the Immortal could return to the surface, revitalized like an ember into a flame once again.

Some explanation that I didn't have the energy to insert into the story:

Basically, there becomes a point in time where the Immortal [Dream]’s soul becomes incredibly exhausted, and is no longer able to hold itself together. Thus, parts of it- the most ‘exhausted’ parts of his soul- begin to drift away. But, since a soul can’t survive without a body, the Egg, its vines, and its spores have become a manifestation of the separated soul. Said departed section(s) of soul needs sustenance, especially away from its main body.

The formation of the Egg is a sign of Dream’s approaching [death]. It may, in some times, cause Dream’s death, such as in the case of Cornelius, who grew too old. Hubert was old, but half of his death was caused by Billiam’s own will (the other half the Egg caused).

So basically, Dream either dies and returns to the Egg, or gets killed by the Egg through methods of manipulation.

Then, after he returns fully to the Egg, it’s gotta incubate and eat more stuff for some time until he can be reborn again.

Inside the Egg, Dream is able to remember all of his past memories.

Dream’s immortality is incomplete. something about DreamXD. GN.

[hinamie]

how many hoodies can i give this kid

[zenniefox]

zenner cooking

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

(Most of) the dragons in How to Train Your Dragon Live Spectacular.

[silentsenior09]

*Cracks knuckles*

Let's get started. Today, we tackle Shy Guys on Stilts and Touch Fuzzy, Get Dizzy. Yeah buddy!

[eggnogtoast]

orthur morgin

[fexjam]

chicken protect my sleep

[strawbuddy-luv]

(Trans) Tim: -Dramatic Sigh- Well you know Robin's always been a boy so I guess I just have to pretend to be a boy if I'm gonna be Robin now. -Yet another Dramatic Sigh- Oh well! I guess I'll do it for the sake of Gotham and Justice

Batman: You know it's ok if you don't want to, Robin can be a gi-

Tim: OH WELL GUESS I'LL JUST HAVE TO WEAR BOY CLOTHES AND GET A BOY HAIRCUT AND A BOY NAME AND TELL EVERYONE I'M A BOY AND BE CALLED A BOY-

[prlssprfctn]

Imagine, if instead of making Red Hood a crime lord and then vigilante, Jason pursues a singing career. And not just as a regular singer, but someone like Kendrick Lamar, with story-telling songs where he roasts famous people (Batman included) and does the whole theatre play, when he performs on the scene?

Jason, pulling up on the scene in Look What You Made Me Do music video style (aka, by getting out of his own grave): Sorry, the old Red Hood can't answer on the phone right no-ow! Why? Oh, because he is dead! Batfamily, stumbling across the livestream of the concert during their family dinner: 0_0

Jason: Say, Batman, you like your wards as soldiers the most? Bruce, not knowing if he should be happy, mad or just silently suffer through the stroke: ...

Tim, ranting, very excited: So, I tried to analyse his latest performance, and did you know that the beat drop in his latest song matches the exact amount of time Joker hit him with the crowbar??? Dick, sniffling: Yeah? Tim: Yeah! That's so cool! And I checked another performance of his, and the cigarette he throws in the pile and that causes a fake explosion, it is the same mark that his bio mom smoked! Tim: And, oh, so cool, but he rhymed the- Bruce, with his eye twitching: Tim. Can you. Not.

Bruce, half-delirious in the row of Jason's fans on his autograph session: Jason, please, let's go home. Jason, blowing a bubblegum: You want an autograph, mister Wayne? Sure... From Red Hood to the most okayish dad in the world. Muah. Here you go. Bruce: Jason- Teenage girls, shoving Bruce on the back: MAN, COME ON, DO YOU KNOW YOU HAVE THIRTY MINUTES?? WE WERE STANDING HERE FOR SIX HOURS!!! Jason, feigning a fake disappointment: Ah, you heard them, mister Wayne. Next one! Bruce: ...

[moncuries]

clearly my idea of these two just revolves around longing and diplomacy

[lavicho]

some love for Team Red !!