#〚 ☼ ─ answered . 〛

[losojos-decupido]

She has a limp when she walks now, but that does nothing to stop that inherited stubbornness that keeps her going forward. Until every face is seen, until every life is accounted for, she'll keep going forward no matter how much it hurts.

Luckily, the stars are given the chance to cross, and all of her breath comes out at once in relief.

"Fogado!" She stumbles a little as she rushes over, but she does not fall. She reaches him and grabs onto his arm. There are no relieved smiles or joyous cries, only worry and frowns as she tugs on his arm until he turns to face her and she can inspect him properly. "Are you injured? Do you need any healing?"

Her staff was missing when she woke up. She's never understood Fodlan's eagerness to throw around magic without any conduit, but faith magic already lights up in her palm before she finishes her inspection.

the first thing fogado does is blink, shocked into silence with relief when he hears a familiar exclamation of his name.

the second thing fogado does is turn around, ready to run to her before realizing that she has already run to him.

the third thing fogado does is turn a deeply bewildered face as mitama, limping and stern of expression, readies her hands to pulse faith magic towards him.

" huh? what? no, don't, " he blurts, the first string of words coming from a whirlwind of different phrases in his head. it's like all the things he wants to say to her are flurries of butterflies, and he's only been given a napkin to catch them with. are YOU okay? what did that to your leg? how long has it been like that? have you seen someone about it? i met your father. he's funny but kind of mean, but i think he likes me. i missed you. i'm so glad you're here. i'm so sorry i wasn't there for you. i did a lot of horrible things while i was gone. i'll do anything if you'll stay my friend.

he needs to clarify what he's just said, so he'll focus on that for now. " i mean, don't heal me. not when there are others that need it more. " he's seen the state of his friends and strangers alike. plenty could use something like what mitama could give them. " i'm sorry. i, um. i can't think very well right now, i guess. i don't want you to leave, that's not what i mean, but, i just think that, uh, or... " he sighs, shoulders sagging. " y'see what i mean? can't think a lick. sorry, but... i did miss you. so i'm happy you're here. "

[mentally-stable-child-of-apollo]

hello my name is darcy!!!

i'm a daughter of apollo

facts about me:

☼ my age: 15

☼ my ethnicity: african american

☼ my mortal parent: my mum, and my step-dad (who are the best)

☼ sexuality: ace and heterosexual <333

☼ job: healer at the infirmary

☼ my besties

angie: @poseidons-favourite-daughter

stephanie: @that-asian-child-of-aphrodite

☼ powers: heliokinesis, photokinesis, vitakinesis (or healing), and archery

☼ weapons: my bow and arrow, and my poison darts

☼ hobbies: playing the guitar, painting, archery, singing, hanging out with my friends

☼ fatal flaw: gul libility (i have been backstabbed way too many times y'all), excessive loyalty

☼ appearance: deep brown skin (that glows when i heal), thick black curls, in braids though occasionally i leave it natural. my eyes are dark brown, with extremely fucking long eyelashes. and a small dimple on my left cheek.

☼ clothing style: cute shit. idk honestly. denim shorts and the camp t-shirt?

☼ years at camp: 9 but i'm not a year rounder. i visit every weekend tho.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[avrorean]

@hoboblaidd shared family trait 😔

[777heavengirl]

just read kitchen and am now imagining moving to france to be with sirius after the breakup, and falling in love with him during the healing process….. sobbing

the way i wanna write this but im still debating it idk?:&2!;&3

i very much wanted sirius’s intentions to stay up to the reader too! like the “i love you” could’ve been be platonic, it could also not be 🙈

i dream of moving to france with sirius… i fear i might have to write jt

[sarastuss]

𝐐 : WHAT CHARACTER ARCHETYPE ARE YOU? 𝐀 : THE LIONHEART.

the loyal one, the stubborn one, the one who fights for others. the guarder, the watcher, the brave, foolish, valiant person who is not the same person by the end of the story.

tagged by : @ban1te thank you!! xo tagging : @palespawn , @weavrot , @reawaken ( a muse of your choice ) , @greenelight , @eueclid / @greenbrire , @erebius , @excalibiur ( a muse of your choice ) , @praesparo ( a muse of your choice ) , @warbyrds , @kirazuke , @ninkaku &. anyone who wants to!

[fatedefyd]

guess who remembered their password to this account??

[mskwtz]

top 5 ck characters not including the main characters

ask me my top 5 / top 10 anything

okay this is hard bc the definition of main vs minor is tricky but i'm going to consider the mains as the ones whose actors do the interviews each season: dan.iel, joh.nny, el.i, de.m, rob.by, s.am, to.ry, mi.guel plus k.reese and si.lver bc they're key players

so everyone else let's think

ch.ris. not only is he lowkey hilarious in the later seasons, but i love how quickly he realized ck was not a place he wanted to be and he didn't want to be the person they expected him to be there.

cho.zen i think is fair to say he's more of a minor character than a main one idk some might disagree but i do love him. i love how funny he is, i love his growth from tkk2, i just adore him

kw.on. i had this little bitch for one season and he served so hard.

am.anda. she's so relatable.

ma.ria. i had her for like 3 episodes and immediately said okay i'm adopting her. she's a badass fighter and is just trying to shoot her shot. respect.

[steel-hound]

"If you're talking about the one I know, then bad."

He scowls, seeming uninterested in elaborating any further.

[kaleidoscopes-oc-resort]

Dr.Cotard I have a question for you!!!!! what's your issue, dawg

in more serious wording: why do you do what you do? Is there any sorts of reason behind your research or whatever? because you're kind of a Freak! and also, I am perpetually curious . thank you for your time!

I will PRETEND not to be offended. Nox-Corp investigates otherworldly threats EXCLUSIVELY!! for the sake of research and the wellbeing of every being in the cosmos (that isn't the subject of our research) and for NO!!!! other reason whatsoever. And also do not ask about any other division those are also for research and good things and the sake of humanity.

[lastofthirteen]

Rung was frantically running towards Zeta, absolutely zero hesitation as he threw himself at his boy. He just hugged him tightly before looking up at him with a smile.

" Zeta! I've missed you so much!"

It was like the moment he stepped out of the ship's entranceway, he felt arms almost frantically wrap around his own much larger frame. His plating was all horribly damaged, covered in gashes and marks of biological attachments that had all been forcibly ripped off or possibly burned away from the metal, revealing some circuitry and framework within. His blue optics drifted down to the much smaller bot in question-- at first, with that tired gaze, it was like he didn't recognize him.

But he did.

As if the very wind listened to his beck and call, it'd grown still as the hijacked Quintesson ship had landed. Standing on the familiar ground of Cybertron, with his own tribe again that all looked up at him in awe, they shuffled forth to peer at the Matrix within his chassis.

Zeta's hands moved slowly, reluctantly, as he placed his hands onto Rung's shoulder plates. His lips parted, his mighty helm resting at his side to reveal the long wire-like protrusions and plating that flipped into view after being released from its containment, fit for one of the first children of Primus. He had grown taller than before. Much taller.

The Matrix hummed within his chest.

" Mentor. " His voice was but a whisper, hoarse, his voicebox crackly and quiet.

" I... am well. I live. "

[losojos-decupido]

Another familiar face. Yunaka doesn't know if she's more relieved or horrified. He looks bad. He's bleeding. At least her wounds have left only dried blood and mud in places, why is he still bleeding?

Yunaka grabs him, dragging him along to the edge of the crowd where she doesn't have to pay attention to their surroundings as much. She doesn't bother with the zappy - so he knows she's a liar, big whoop. He's already seen her fall apart before.

Once they're off to the side, she lets him go. Her hands go next to her cape, ripping off a strip of it. It's not the best, but it's what she's got, and it's better than him walking around openly bleeding.

"Hold still." She orders. There's a lot to cover, but she starts with his head, moving to wrap it as best as she can.

"...did you have any of the others with you?" She doesn't know what else to ask. He's obviously not okay. She doesn't want to talk about her failures. "Ivy was with me. She's up."

She does her best to tie off the bandage. It should hold long enough for it to stop bleeding, at lest. She reaches to rip off another.

even when he knows who is pulling him around it's still very unnerving right now to not be in control of his own movements. yunaka clearly does this out of worry, though, so he doesn't say anything.

she tucks the two of them into a corner, away from the eyes of others and barely lit by torches laid far from where they are. it's a little cold, but it could be worse. yunaka assesses him quickly with a look and seems to gather enough, letting him go and ripping up her cape to start laying makeshift bandages on various parts of his body. boy, does he really look that bad?

he follows her command to sit still and doesn't cause a fuss. between the two of them their guards are lowered, so there's no point pretending that everything is okay. it very much isn't, and there's no two people that know that more than they do.

" ...not in my group, " is fogado's response when yunaka asks about who he was with. " i didn't know anybody. it was all new people... not that we lasted long enough to exchange pleasantries. " his ears burn with shame remembering how he'd been flung against the wall---how little he'd felt, and how exposed he was. " even when i woke up and started pullin' people out of the hallways, i never saw anybody i was familiar with. "

he folds his hands in his lap, swiping thumbs together. " then those explosions happened and i got knocked out again. no clue what happened to the people inside. " his voice trails off to a troubled mumble, eyes turning dim. " no clue what happened to anybody at all. "

[sentinelspecies]

I sure hope that orange canary guy has not run to space. That wouldn't be too great.

That would be really, really bad. He would've had to arrange for someone else to deal with your meltdowns in his absence.

[xrns]

I CARE ABOUT YOUR POETRY AND ALL YOUR BLOGS AND EVERYTHING :(

</3

[avrorean]

@valorcorrupt. 🎬 ↳ clips of the past (accepting!)

The girl had never truly felt cold before. Her house had always been a warm place, fit snugly on one of Nevarra’s layered hills with its bright blue door and the orange trees that grew outside her window, where she took naps to the sound of the rolling of the sea in the middle of the day. But there had been no orange trees once the Templars brought her across the ocean, and the sun had felt like it had lost all of its warmth.

Instead, it had just felt wet, which made the persistent cold even worse. It hadn’t rained, but the fog that had settled over the dark ground hadn’t lifted for days and had only ever grown worse once they reached the lake. The girl sniffled – whether from cold or the threat of new, miserable little tears it was hard to say – tugging the scratchy old blanket tighter around herself as another violent shiver shook her tiny body. That, at least, had garnered her the attention of the old man who had lent it to her, looking up from his place currently rowing the boat. 

(“Don’t you worry now, li’il one. Won’t be much longer now and that tower’ll have ya bundled up warm an’ proper. Promise from ol’ Kester.”) 

The little girl blinked her wide, wet eyes up at him. The old man’s smile was friendly, but it was no good despite his intent. The girl had barely started reading in her own language before she’d been taken, and she hardly understood a word of the common tongue as of yet. If she had caught one word in twenty when someone spoke to her mother or father, it was a success, and the old man’s accent was impossibly thick. The only person she could get any thought across to was her escort, Templar Alban; he wasn’t a cruel guardian, but he was cold. Cold as the lake and the wind and this hard green country, and despite speaking plain Nevarran, he didn’t seem to want to talk to her much at all unless he needed to. Not even to tell her what the old man had said. It had stopped disappointing her during the early days of the voyage, shortly after she’d finally stopped crying.

But the old man hadn’t been wrong, at least insofar as Alban would have known; the boat ride hadn’t taken too much longer before the knock of wood against the dock signaled their arrival, and the armored man lifted her out of the little wooden dinghy and, for once, carried her the rest of the way inside. His armor’s cold, too, the child thought as the large wooden doors parted before them.

Inside was indeed warmer, and reactively the girl shuddered in the Templar’s arms with relief as the warm air worked itself right away to combating the cold in her bones, but even that hadn’t dissuaded the rise of fear at the number of armored men waiting within the grey halls. There were only a dozen or so, but to her, it felt like a hundred. Cold and faceless in their helmets and still like statues. Just like the ones that chased mama, she thought, shrinking back into Alban’s arms. Even if he was a Templar too, at least he was familiar.

Alban clearly hadn’t felt the same, however. Gently, but unsympathetically, her templar escort peeled her off and sat her feet-first on the ground, pulling the scratchy blanket the old man had given her away and leaving her standing before two more old, bearded men. One was hard-faced and armored, the other in colorful robes that reminded her of the bright rugs in her house and laugh lines at his eyes beneath his long hair. 

“Hush now.” It had felt like forever since Alban had last said more than a few words to her, much less in her own tongue, so the girl stared up at him with a jump. “Do not cause a fuss. This is the last of it, so behave yourself.” 

(“Maker be praised for your safe return, Templar Alban. This is the mage from Nevarra?”) 

Though he addressed her escort, the Old Templar’s unflinching eyes had fallen firmly onto her, watchful and analytical, as though he’d found an animal in the woods and was debating on whether or not it would try and bite him. The little girl shrank beneath it and backed away several steps until she felt the light touch of Alban at her back, holding her in place.

(“Do not intimidate the poor girl, Greagoir. By your templar’s accounts, the journey has been an ordeal.”) The old man with a long beard chastised, which only made the Old Templar’s scowl deepen. (“Be welcome to your new home, █ █ █ █ █.”)

Alban translated the last part for her this time. The girl bit her lip sullenly, digging her chilled fingers into her muddied skirt and said nothing. The Bearded Man merely smiled in a way that seemed like understanding, before turning back to the Old Templar to mutter sharp words together. The girl didn’t think she wanted to know what they were arguing about. Instead her big purple eyes wandered the walls of her new environment. Tall and grand, yes, with its high walls that had no pictures or tapestries and bars on the few windows she could see. 

Colorless. Dull. 

She hated this. She wanted to go home, to her mother and father and her little baby brother, who’d just started to crawl. To take a nap by her window with the orange tree and sneak figs from the big bowl in the kitchen. She wanted to feel her mother’s arms around her. The feeling of her father’s tightly wrapped hair beneath her fingers when he sat her on his shoulders, and the way he’d securely hold her legs to keep her from falling. Every time she asked Templar Alban when they could go back, he ignored her, which had only amplified her cries and tantrums on the ship, which Alban had simply let run their course by herself until she was too tired to cry anymore. The girl didn’t think she had anymore tears to cry, but as these strange, cold people talked around her, she felt them burn the corners of her eyes again. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

(“... the reidentification forms on my desk. Is that necessary? The child is-”)

(“Blame the girl’s family, Irving, not I.”)

Another sniffle, unbidden, snapped the attention of the Old Templar and the Bearded Man back to her. She shrank again. The two conferred again, quieter this time, and made a motion to the Templars she couldn't quite understand, but they clearly knew what to do.

Templar Alban nudged her again, giving a quiet command to walk to one of the vestibules by the door. As her tiny feet shuffled three steps for every one of his long, armored strides, she found herself distracted briefly by the intricate webbing of vine-line bars that caged it off from the rest of the room. It had been the first thing the girl might have called pretty.

But the hint of wonder was brief. When the Old Templar and the Bearded Man approached her again, it had felt as though all the coldness from without had come flooding back inside. She didn’t know why, but the Old Templar had begun to recite something; what it was, she couldn’t have begun to say, but she noticed that Templar Alban had stood straighter, his hands locked firmly behind his back in a soldier’s respect. And then they’d started pulling things out of a velvet lined box that another, faceless templar had brought them: a vial, a wooden medallion-like circle covered in strange writing, and something sharp. 

Terror seized her then, as the Old Templar’s recitation made the strange and scary objects begin to glow, but Templar Alban had a firm grip on her tiny wrist, keeping her palm stretched out no matter how hard she tried to wiggle free from his metal grip. She ignored the Bearded Man’s attempt to soothe her, thrashing and whimpering in the Templar’s hold. She could get out. She had to get out. If she could just run back out the door, the kind old man with the boat had to take her across, right? He could row her all the way back home, she bet. He had a boat and these faceless, armored men didn’t. But Alban held her firm. The words she wanted to plea wouldn’t come, but as the strange device glowed red, the whimpering was more than sufficient a plea to get across. The Templar was unmoved, but had the decency to look uncomfortable.

“Hold still,” he said quietly as the Bearded Man and the Old Templar approached her with their sharp and glowing things, finished with their chanting. “It will only hurt for a second.”

[777heavengirl]

i consumed the last bags chapter like a mad man, and when i finished i was kinda sad it ended :(

SHEKDJ I LAUGHED

don’t worry babe the next one is already written up 🙏😛

more bags coming,

i did decide that imma end it @ 13 chapters total but i’ll think about doing little bonus content too bc i cannot abandon bags like that this has been my baby

[sarastuss]

i am so conflicted about this pinned i can not decide whether i like it or not