hi I'm wisteria, wist for short! this is a place to store my writing and whatnot~
about me:
-i'm an adult (21!) and currently a college student :)
-I'm in a lot of fandoms and play a lot of games! some ones I'm into are undertale (biggest one atm), deltarune, genshin impact, the mcu, spiderman, dc comics/shows, tmnt, rain world, star wars, atla, demon slayer, spy x family, attack on titan, gachiakuta, frieren, jujitsu kaisen, the apothecary diaries, the amazing digital circus, studio ghibli, kpop demon hunters, stardew, mcsm- feel free to ramble to me about anything, I'm feral about all of them
-I like art and embroidery on occasion :D
-I'll use the following tags: #wist scribbles for writing, #wist doodles for art, #wist crafts for crafts, #wist answers for asks, #wist tunes for music, and #wist reblogs for reblogs :D
-I don't have many rules lol, just don't be an ass and we're cool
inbox is always open, feel free to chat!
enjoy perusing! here, take a flower crown before you go <3
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*clawed hand reaches out of the ether and drags it into the ring, leaving ragged claw marks in the soil as it disappears, back into the ether from whence it came*
Real scientists would keep putting an orange in the same spot to make sure the results are consistent before moving on to other fruits or different spots.
many women are excited to get old and weird, but i have great news that it's fully possible to become weird now, before you get old. just imagine the heights of weirdness you will be able to reach in fifty years if you get started now. that's what I think
guyyyyys I'm getting a new stylus next week so in honor of that I decided to join artfight! I'm on Team Tragedy. my username is wisteria-scribbles ehehehehe. so far the only characters I have are my two menaces, aconite and dealmaker
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frisk, having just stayed up all night completing the first draft of their MD-PhD thesis, was decidedly going a little stir-crazy. the thought of doing any more admittedly necessary work made them want to cry.
sleep was not an option, considering the copious amounts of energy drink cans scattered about their desk, but perhaps they could do something else to work off the caffeine induced mania. if they read another literature review on the medicinal properties of ebbot’s local fungi, they might just go mad- they shut off their laptop with a click and stood.
the sun had just come up after a brief pre-dawn rain, wafting in like threads of golden gossamer through the blinds of their dorm, and Frisk decided the best thing to do would be to go on a hike. Ebott was famed for it's beautiful mountain, unsurprisingly titled Mt. Ebott, and had gorgeous hiking trails all around it.
It wouldn't hurt to go and see some actual nature for a change. they'd been neck deep in papers and research and sleepless nights of tap-tapping away at the paper that would define their future. a little fresh air would do them some good.
so there frisk was, putting on their sneakers, throwing on the only outfit in their mess of a dorm that was clean (a lab coat and sweater in early spring? they hoped it wasn't too warm out… they really needed to do their laundry), grabbing their hiking backpack, and heading out.
the forest trail leading to mountain wasn't too far from their dorms, as it turned out. poplar and pine and oak all stretched to the sky as far as the eye could see, the new buds of spring unfurling into their curtains of green and blossom- it was a bit humid out, from the brief rain, but now the sun was out and dancing across all the leftover dew. It was beautiful, and frisk took a deep breath of the clean air and tried to calm their leftover academic anxiety.
the spring rain and the leftover melt of old winter snow made the old rotting logs of this forest damp, and that encouraged the growth of mushrooms- and while of course the hike up the mountain was beautiful, frisk would not lie and say it was just the view that they were after.
they adored studying mt ebbott's huge variety of native mushrooms, and it was to this aim frisk found themselves straying from the hiking path, beckoned deeper into the more abandoned nooks and crannies where the fallen logs and their fungal patrons sat.
they came across something… curious. a single, unusually large parrot waxcap, glistening and almost eerily beautiful, sitting innocently among a gnarl of tree-roots. it was this gorgeous gradient of cool green and purple- and frisk couldn't resist coming a bit closer to get a better look at it.
they tripped on a root, and flailed a bit to try and catch themselves-
and fell right into a hole.
down, down, down this hole went, dark, fast, the wind whistling in their ears as they fell, and the majority of frisks thoughts were consumed with flailing wildly and hoping to whatever might be listening that they were not about to die.
please, they had too much to do to die now- they'd worked so hard, for so long. surely they could not die now? well… dying over a mushroom felt disturbingly on brand, for them. they were studying mycology, after all.
frisk saw the ground. frisk scrunched their eyes shut, bracing for impact-
the ground was… soft? and kind of squishy. frisk peeked and saw they had landed in an enormous pile of overgrown flowers and mushrooms- golden flowers, to be precise, and a variety of mushroom they had never seen before. several varieties, in fact. they looked around.
they were in a cave, the remnants of what might of a been a pillar in crumbling dissarray around them, and it was utterly, completely, madly overtaken with a cacophonous rainbow of fungi. it creeped along the stone walls and floor and came in so many shapes, so many colors, that frisk could scarcely categorize them all.
frisk, heart still beating far too fast from the adrenaline of their fall, felt gloriously confused and perhaps a bit maniacally curious.
there was so much to catalog. goodness, perhaps they'd get a mushroom named after them!
they stood, brushing stray petals off their coat, and pulled a pair of gloves from their bag with manic determination. they'd get samples, then set about finding a way out.
something moved, in the corner of their peripheral vision, and frisk went deathly still. was it an animal, of some kind? frisk ever so slowly pulled out a dissection scalpel, and braced themselves.
"howdy! i'm flowey, flowey the flower!"
frisk turned and saw… a flower. with a face. speaking to them.
ah, well, they did have bare contact with some of these golden mushrooms. perhaps they were a hallucinogenic.
"are you….. talking to me? holy f*ckin sh*t, I must be high, f*ck I hope these aren't poisonous-"
"what? no, I'm real, you idio- I mean gosh, this must all be so confusing! someone ought to teach you how things work around here! I guess I'll-"
frisk cut the talking flower off, upon realizing they were in fact in full possession of their wits, and moved so incredibly close to the flower with such speed it threw flowey off for a second, his brow (how does a flower have brows???) creasing in confusion.
"so you are real! fascinating! and you somehow speak english? are there others like you, flowey? what do you eat? do you drink water with your mouth, or take it up through roots? you have several mushrooms growing out of you! are they also sentient??"
"whoa whoa whoa there, friend, let me teach you about how this place works first!"
flowey's odd face twisted into a smile almost…. sinister, then, but frisk didn't want to assume. for all they knew this creature was easily offended, and frisk wanted to keep things amicable- at least for the sake of answers.
"sure thing, flowey!"
flowey then explained that this was the underground, and then brought out frisk's soul. frisk knew they had a soul, yes, but to see it brought out in such a manner was rather…. strange. the creature wanted to share "love" through "friendliness pellets."
the first thing one learns in medical triage is to keep things as far from contamination as possible, and frisk felt that perhaps the culmination of their being was a rather vulnerable target, to germs or other foreign objects. they dodged with all the twitchy instincts of a medic dodging a random spray of blood from a patient. it wasn't a fully concious move, more reflex than anything, but by the darkening expression on the flowers face, it seemed to be the wrong one.
flowey really didn't like that, and frisk was disappointed to learn that those pellets, were, in fact, bullets. seeing as first contact with this creature was hostile, they did the next best thing; they shoved their soul back into their body and lunged.
tackling the flower to the ground was easy- it was a tiny bugger, though it's various roots and vines were surprisingly strong. frisk flipped their scalpel around in their hand- if they could just shave a little bit off one of the flower's petals, not enough to seriously damage it (they hoped), they could then make a run for it with a valuable sample for later study and perhaps escape with their life. yes. this was an excellent plan.
I've been a busy bee! I got a temp full time position at a local hospital doin ekgs, but it's exclusively the night shift (3pm to 11pm). I'm trying to adjust my sleep schedule to compensate for the change but it's been hard
I've otherwise been well! how are you dearest gonny?
- Sincerely, someone who cares about your well-being
love u too bestie and I'm tryinnnnnn I promiseee
sleep is hard and I help work in the ER (and the rest of the hospital) now and lemme tell u those places are so loud you'll be hearing the sounds after you go home. literally hearing code stroke rapid response in my sleep jsjsjsjjsjsjs
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aconite remembers this clear as day, for it was the first time in her then short life that a guardian had ever hurt her- which is why it burns so terribly that onyx doesn't recall. he denies any knowledge of it, to this day, and it eats at her nerves, the ease with which he lies- or the ease with which he forgets. for her it had been formative, for him- an afterthought.
she was…. smaller then. she had not yet abandoned the concepts of love and companionship, fragile ideals that clung to her like old snakeskin yet to be shed. she asked onyx what his real name was.
she did not understand then that the widening of his eyes was a wild, paranoid anger that he rarely indulged, festering with fire instead of his usual flippant indifference. one moment she was looking up at him, and the next she was horizontal, half of her face burning. she remembers a stack of books that she had been reading being knocked over- did he do it, or did she knock into them? the details escaped her.
she thinks perhaps this memory was colored over with the haze of her childish panic, but she swears that everything had been tinged a bright red, her pulse a thundering roar in her chest. she didn't even see the hand that had hit her to the ground- her vision just blurred. her heart was in her throat. it felt like she was choking on it, and it was hard to breathe around, her ears ringing.
"don't ever ask that again, you hear me? for both your sake and mine, the man I used to be is dead. forgotten."
he gripped her throat, fury and what she later understood to be fear, or perhaps.. grief? in every line of his body. it was already so hard to breathe, and she didn't know if the tears beading up in her eyes were from lack of air or just plain terror. he gave her a shake that made her dizzy. she was such a weakling, then. she could take harder hits than that, now; her dear mentor had seen to it.
"I am onyx, have always been onyx, and don't owe you anything more than that. understand?"
she nodded, frantic, and staggered back coughing when he had finally let go. her throat ached. her chest hurt. she couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe she-
his face had closed off, any trace of anger gone, and he looked at her impassively, for just a blank, empty moment, then turned on his heel and left her there, gasping for breath and trying so hard to understand why he had done what he'd done. he was her savior, wasn't he? it was because of him she was still alive. he took her in. she couldn't blame him, could she? she had to do better. she had to be better, and then he would only be his good parts.
it was all her fault, and she would fix it! it was a child's selfish logic. that the world revolved around her actions. that she could ever decide what life would put her through, prevent it's many pointless tragedies.
what a foolish, foolish child she was. now she considers it all, turning the situation around in her head like gemstone, studying it's many facets. she knows now that onyx's many reactions, his cruel and callous impulses, had been borne from immaturity- a careless, arrogant kind. a lack of control that she was never allowed to have but he could flaunt freely.
it grated on her. it grated to this day like the two ends of a snapped bone scraping together, raw and painful even decades later. she had been around eight. even now, as steeped in atrocity and sin as she was, she would never beat a child. if she ever had to kill one, it was always quick and painless- the most mercy she could offer. she digresses- this bar was so low that it was in hell. she was no moral paragon.
again and again she studied her childhood and it's reflections, it's refractions, the strange shadows this dark, multifaceted gem had cast on every corner of her soul. she found no answers. all that was there was a bitterness she couldn't fight, all tangled up with a sense of.. of care, of fondness, that she could not separate despite her greatest efforts. he was indeed something like family to her, and that only made it hurt worse.
it did not absolve her, she knew. she could not abscond responsibility for all her horrible actions just because she grew up under a cruel hand. there was no justifying to any sane being the blood that soaked her hands all the way up to the shoulder, the madness she had wrought in a desperate need to have control over her own fate, to never be the servile, spineless, enslaved weakling she once was. she knows now she had never been in control. she had been a slave to her desperation all along.
that grated too. that all she had to show for such a long, soul-killing road was… unnecessary, wasted suffering, both her own and others, and nothing more. it never meant anything. she was never free. she had merely built her own chains instead of being chained to someone else.
not for the first time, she wondered if the only true freedom she'd ever feel was when her soul left the mortal coil. a pointless thought, since psuedo-immortality was part of her punishment.
she wished it would all cease. that she didn't have to look at the face of the only person she she loved and hated in equal measure every day, across from her in a glass cell just like hers, that the accusing, terrified eyes of every other prisoner did not dart at her so keenly, make her LV crawl with a need to make them still forever. that the instability that she could feel under her skin did not make her feel so unmoored- that the aching absence of where her magic once was did not hurt so much.
here she was, with nothing to do but think, weigh every choice she had ever made on a broken scale, judge what remained of her soul and ask the indifferent world if any of it mattered. she once heard the universe was not uncaring, for sentient life was the organ it used to care, to love, to dream- but if she was part of that, she felt perhaps that she was a cancer. a sick, broken cell, consuming madly and unable to do it's function and care for anything else but survival. she was a malignant blight upon the world. could she blame the surgeon's hand of fate, for cutting her away, starving her of resources, discarding her to rot?
I think I accidentally deleted the first time I posted this, so here it is again! I drew 'em about a month ago when I still had my stylus (and it felt thematically appropriate with the new [DECOMPOSITION] chapter lol)
