Yo! You may refer to me as Aster. I go by they/she but I'd rather have you use they. I'm in the 18-22 age range so if you're uncomfortable interacting with adults, here's your sign to click on another profile.
I'm mainly using this account to reblog Tokyo Debunker posts but I plan to publish some x reader oneshots ! English is not my first language but I'd like to think I'm pretty good at it. You'll be the best judge of it. Maybe I'll show some of my fanarts at some point?
This account is strictly SFW in the sense that I will NEVER interact with suggestive or explicit content. I'm fine with gore and blood though. This kind of content might get reblogged with according tags.
Theory tag: #aster theorizes
Art tag: #aster draws
I didn't know what to choose as a blog name so I picked the only SSR the horrendous horrendous gacha system gave me </3 Save me Yuri. Yuri save me.
Happy birthday to Frostheim's cute, hardworking advisor with his pretty blue eyes ✨
If it looks a bit 'dead wife flashback' core. It's because every second I spend away from him pains me that much lol. A lil chibi thing I made for last year under the cut if anyone's interested ^^ it's so wonky and more ugly than usual
Note: Palette cleanser for myself! I love the dreamcore, liminal space, backrooms vibe. I know there was a fun little fic around here somewhere already kinda like this, but I can't find it. It inspired a different idea I had, and was doing with Jiro....but honestly I only ever finish half of what I write. So here's this‐!
Children are always playing in one of the rooms no matter what time of night it is. It's a room he can't ever seem to find the door to, though. There's keys hidden in every corner his eyes dart, but none of them open anything more than a chest of baby doll toys. Every once in a while he hears the crank of a music box groan. A soft, eerie melody wafts towards his ears and drowns out the sound of a child beginning to sob somewhere in the room upstairs.
Haku - The Dream Core Train.
Scratchy arrows point to the automatic doors, and fliers that promise a beautiful wonderland litter the colorful carpet. Every seat on the train is occupied with a dense and heavy air. His eyes trail up to the wide set windows, senses calming to the smokey whisp of fog and clouds. His ears pop as the train ascends and sunlight kisses his closed eyelids.
Sho ‐ The Kitchen after 3 AM.
He's the only one home. The blinds to the window above the sink haphazardly close the night out. The hum of the fridge is the only thing keeping him grounded. A curious eye peers out from within the drain in the kitchen sink. Another stalks him from the small crevice where the blinds just barely meet the window sill.
Leo - A Disheveled Shopping Mall.
The vintage fountain is brimmed up with still water. Coins are glued to the bottom of it like a wishing well. There's only one store that doesn't look abandoned like the rest, and the gates aren't locking him out yet. Lights dance into view as he inches closer, and distorted music from roughed up arcade machines kill what little interest he previously had.
Alan - A Desolate Public Restroom.
Mirrors are smashed into the grimy sinks. Drops of blood smear the broken glass pieces. Graffiti litters every last inch of the tile walls until it's unintelligible. There's warnings penned in every colored ink all along the inside of the bathroom stalls. They caution him of the floors that are caked up in the muddy red footprints that lead out into the flickering street.
Ren - The Bedroom.
Definitely not his own. At least, this isn't how he remembered it. The static of the TV drives him crazy, but he can push the off button on the remote until his thumb falls off. The bedroom door seems to be left ajar, and a breeze seeps in until it slithers all the way open. Inviting him to the stairwell with arrows carved into the walls like some kinda weird horror movie he missed.
Romeo - An Empty City.
Bustling with lights, music from lit up shops seep out into the walkable streets. Nothing is here for him. Not the lick of a dime to satisfy his expensive taste. Every shelf is as dusty as the streets, but nobody stops him from kicking doors down, and holding the ghosts at gunpoint. He's been a long-time hostage to the human-less footsteps that lurk in his shadow from time to time.
Rui - The Garden in the Graveyard.
Everything but the flowers have found their place here. Their vines grow far past a few delicate snips. Encircling the gravestones into a mess of twine, the plants grow until they underline the names of the dead they worship. He steps out into the floral beds, hesitant, then flinches when a wail from the ground shakes out beneath his feet.
Edward - The Hidden Cathedral.
Behind the mess of trees, you'll find him. He's long since said his last prayers, so he's only here for the sentiment. The memories of sunlight beaming through the glass-stained windows flood his mind. His leering gaze trails the old cracks and crevices that became of them.
Yuri - The Opera House Theater.
After a midnight show sets loose, the sea of red seats flood his vision as far back as his eyes will let him see. His footsteps on the path between the seats and from the stage are the only thing he can hear now. The music is a distant memory that can no longer be jogged, no matter how hard he yearns to remember the melody plaguing his brain.
Jiro - The Abandoned Children's Hospital.
The red light of an exit sign illuminates the painted walls and otherwise pitch black hall. Medical equipment is scattered across the freezing white floors. Old, coagulated blood vials sit at his feet. The names of the patients on them are scribbled out in a bold black pen. Kicking through them to open the moaning swing doors, an endless hall of flowers begins to stretch into view, like he'd never been in a hospital at all.
