Saw Bishop mention grave gold and I think it's funny that my two watchers are on opposite ends of the spectrum of--
Frauke who's dowry is pretty minimal. She only has a pair of earrings and a handful of rings that she forgets she's wearing most of the time. The downside of this is if she ever takes them off it takes AGES for her to remember she has to put them back on.
Then you have Mercy who wears So Much Jewelry that they fucking jingle, necklaces, rings, bangles, hoop earrings, arm bands, so much. Anything that's a chain? Those don't have clasps, if you want them off you're taking a pair of jewelry pliers to them. Additionally it's not just above their clothes. They have a handful of beaded gold waist chains, matching bracelets and anklet chains worn beneath their clothing. Their belly button is pierced, their tongue is pierced, they have a total of 14 ear piercings and have complained before that elven watchers have the advantage of more ear to add gold to.
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Mercy was fully naked and on top of her partner now, facing them in cowgirl position. Her body was slightly raised as she was reaching down to position their cock against her slick entrance. The angel bit her lip, gasping and moaning softly as the fat head finally began to enter her, and she slowly sank down on their big, long cock.Â
âAh... That feels so good...â She slowly began to move her hips up and down, sinking up and down on their cock.
It was something that Angela Ziegler had become so accustomed to, it was basically second nature to her. There was always something to do, someone to tend to, something to investigate. Perhaps she was a workaholic, simply adjusting to the environment she was placed in.
None could deny her drive, however. To do good. To help. One could say she had âgoodâ morals, always fighting for Overwatchâs side and the need to do right in the world.
She hated violence. It wasnât the sight of grisly wounds or pained screams that made her stomach churn, but violence itself. It reminded her of the darkness in this world, and how cruel it could be. But it also reminded her what to fight for.
She was young, yes, perhaps too young. But she knew grief and destruction. She knew what it was like to have everything pulled out from under oneâs feet. Young, optimistic, but knew. It was essentially like an old friend to her.
â
Doctor Angela Ziegler zipped through the halls at ease, the sounds of her heels clicking loudly against the tiles. Accompanied by two guards garbed completely in black, a million things passed through her mind.
Did something happen to Genji? Why was she being escorted to Blackwatch? It left her mind racing and heart heavy, but she kept her composure calm and professional.
It wasnât long before she was greeted by Gabriel Reyes, and was given a quick rundown of the situation. A mission had gone wrong and a valuable agent had gotten seriously hurt. They were stable, alive, but unable to work for them any longer.
It was Gabriel who had reached out to her initially, asking her to pay a visit. He didnât go into much detail over the phone, but stated it was important.
It all started clicking together in Angelaâs head, nodding slowly as they walked and talked. The sterile white walls of the medbay was a familiar sight, remembering her times here previously. While she was relieved it wasnât Genji, she did have immense concern for the agent.
Olivia Colomar. Prefers to go by Sombra, injuries sustantined so grievously that she had lost both of her legs. A tremendous lost. Trauma. Again, something Angela was accustomed to.
They stop just right outside the room, Gabriel pausing for just a moment. He explains she doesnât have to do this. She isnât required to. They could send her off to work outside of Blackwatch, but he was asking this as a favor.
Angela smiles, genuine and honest, and simply speaks.
âIâll do it.â
â
Gabriel leaves her with a small smile and a pat on the shoulder, saying something about paperwork. It isnât long before sheâs alone in the hall, staring at the white door with a digital screen reading âSombraâ on it. Taking in a deep breath, she puts on a small smile and opens the door.
Almost everything is familiar to her. The machinery, the noises, the sterile smell. How cold the air was. But what wasnât so familiar was the woman laid up in the bed, wrapped up in bandages and hooked to some serious equipment.
âGuten morgen, Sombra. I am Doctor Angela Ziegler, and I will be in charge of your treatments from now on.â
Her voice is soft, gentle. Yet confident, striding across the room, clipboard in hand. She wears a smile, but not too overbearing. Genuine.
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M!A: Muffet experiences the "Pacifist Ending" to UNDERTALE, as she is now. There is no warning, no context for her. One moment, she is wherever she is, and in the next, hers and all the other SOULs have all been returned after the fight with Asriel, and her timeline's Frisk has opened the Barrier, letting all monsters go free.
WARNING FOR CONTENT: This .. gets pretty bad in terms of description of her reaction. While there isnât anything triggering. It does describe the process of a full scale panic attack, and .. completely dissociating as I have experienced them.Â
Naturally, Viewer discretion is advised.Â
TL;DRÂ
The timeline is free! Or at least, this instance of it is. The TRUE PACIFIST ending has been achieved and the Monsters are free. This is great! Save for, PRESENT Muffet, or âCookieâ is now within this instance. And Panics because this means Flowey is not only not by her side, but will turn back into that same entity that he was before they properly met. Muffet has a bad reaction to this.
M!A START. Â
Before she can speak, or even take a slight breath inward.. her vision is blurred by an almost blinding of lights. A Familiar warmth prickles across her skin. Above her.. a soft mix of orange,red, and blazing yellow stretch as far as she can see before meeting in the center of her focal point..
The sun beams brightly over the horizon.Â
At first.. the spider is speechless. What ..is this? A breeze brushes past her.. her eyes follow to see the mouth opening of the old door to the Undergroundâs exit. The Tall standing door within the side of the mountain..open. The barrier was broken.. how?Â
Eyes fell to the ground and followed the looming shadows of familiar figures.. and one too familiar for comfort. Her eyes fell on DTE-388â˛s visage.. but.
Something wasnât right. That child wasnât a mere suit of meat. No, it was the child. A chill runs up her spine. Monsters and creatures alike slowly emerge from the depths of the mountainside.Â
Muffet.. no, Cookie just stands there. Awaiting one figure in particular. As the final monsters slowly drip out of the mountain side, Muffetâs heart sinks. The reality of the situation sets in and causes her to panic. Her breath slowly becomes ragged and the looming feeling of dread takes itâs hard grip on her. It hurts. The pounding in her chest, the physical feeling of sickness and failure well in her throat. She canât speak, she canât process, she canât fight it.Â
She canât win. She can never win.Â
Before another monster can ask if she is joining them, she runs.  Her legs carry her far into the darkness of the Underground until she happens upon a patch of grass, light cascading down from the opening  fissure above.Â
More dread pulls at her person. Tears threaten to fall down her cheeks as they burn in her eyes. Her body trembles. Her entire body is wracked with the ghosting pain of times past. Everything sheâd been through up at this point.Â
With a shaking stride.. she walks forward. Â A figure stands within the patch of grass.. looking too young in age to be the one she was looking for.Â
Reality has fully set in.Â
She fights it⌠fights the urge to break down and let it out. She fights the urge to let anyone see her weak and broken again. She fights the urge to seem so helpless in the face of something purely out of her control. Why? Why is it that no matter how hard she fights, or how hard she tries⌠all her attempts are in vain?Â
There is an audible thud as Muffetâs knees hit the ground. Her entire weight thrown forward as she lands. A pair of hands cover her face. If she is to break here.. then.. at least the initial tears and sound of shattering defeat is muffled.Â
Arms wrap about her for some form of grounding or security as dread consumes and eats her alive. She writhes.. and pants.. tears break from her ducts and flood her face. Bright and pastel drops peek from her fingers and dampen her cheeks. Â Dread consumes her.. words fill her head.Â
Youâre a failure. You let this happen to him again.How could you do that?Youâre so weak.Why are you so helpless?Useless. Useless.Why are you so useless?Failure.Failure of a daughter, friend, lover, it doesnât matter. You failed again.Â
Wailing and pained sobs left the spider as the words grew louder than even that. This âhappy endingâ cost everything she worked for. Suppose she was being selfish with this reaction. Suppose she is meant to be happy.
This is a one sided victory. Tears and dread grip her not because she is alone. But, because someone else will soon suffer. Freedom for everyone else meant mental captivity for the one being that mattered to her.. and even to those that survive.. to have their freedom soon ripped from their hands along with their memories. A Silent forgetfulness that will soon leave them longing for the freedom they were just granted.Â
The crushing feeling of self hatred, and regret hold the spider so tightly she feels that she will break under the pressure.Â
Asriel stands before her. The child.. rather than the Entity known as Asriel.Â
Soon the flower will take his place, and the vicious cycle begins again. Muffetâs sobs resign to quiet whimpers of plea, angered huffs of breath.. then silence.Â
Emptiness sets within the spider and she falls silent beneath her cupping hands. Her face partially dry and stained from the tears that once flooded her pretty face.Â
The Bags under her eyes are so much darker now.. Split pupils form a single, thin line across her sclera. Â She lowers her hands. And resigns to just gripping her knees.Â
Silence falls. She was crying for mere minutes. it felt like hours or days. Blank and pale stretch of lines that she once called âpupilsâ focus on nowhere in particular.Â
A Thousand yard gaze sets on one point in this space and gazes onward forever. The dread, the voice, the pain all leave her, and the sound of her pounding SOUL floods her ears.Â
The Beat, Beat, Beating of her SOUL in the dull rhythmic fashion only serve to pull her further into deafening silence.Â
She waits.. Feeling every portion of her body as it is and as it exists function.Â
Something something when watcher's propose to someone they use jewelry and you know there's that one old 'a wedding ring should be three months salary' thing? It's that but it's proposal jewelry should be able to pay for a full funeral and rites.
