#... you know ;)

[starlo-official]

@graceful-not

there is something so crazy and powerful about having art of your oc that was made by anyone other than yourself. like oh my god you actually exist outside of my own brain that's WILD

[ohithankyou]

what buck says: i’m a little lonely, but getting by.

what buck means: i went from being spoiled rotten and taking 9 inches fat and throbbing every single day for the last six months of my life to baking all of my flour and sad-jerking myself off at night. i’m empty and hopeless.

[midnight-mourning]

Birds of a Feather

Bit of writing for @divinit3a's cafe prompts! A little one shot set in @crystalmagpie447's winged dca au. Be sure to check both of them, the prompts, and the au out!

That all being said, enjoyed making this, hope you enjoy reading it ^^

Word Count: 1795

Chosen Words: feathers, flight, clouds, hope, restart

"Thank you for visiting Superstar Daycare! We hope you have a Faztastic rest of your day!" Sun says, shutting the door with a sigh.

You glance up from organizing the drawings from today, seeing he's slouched back against the door, defeated. Not that he'd ever admit it, of course. You're almost tempted to go back to your work without another word so to let him keep up his perceived joyous attitude. But, you desire to be a better friend than that. 

Even if he doesn't want you to be. 

You sort another work of art into the pile for next week's feature pieces. "Long day, huh?"

"Oh, not at all, Sunshine!" You hear his rays spin, and peeking up again his posture is ramrod straight again. "Today was wonderful, just like all the others before it! And before that, and before that, and before that..." Back to that chipper tone, as you had expected, but it never hurt to try. 

Something you don't think Sun realized—likely due to not being created with them initially—is that wing's display an array of emotions as much as any other part of one's body language. When nervous, they quiver and flick and shrink in much like his own rays. When happy, they're bursting with life, shifting not dissimilarly to one's own arms. And when angry, well, you think he might have realized that one. 

Whenever you pressed him too hard, asked too many questions, showed too much care, they would puff up, feathers stifled and quick in their movements. 

You never told him these things, which may make you not so good a friend, but you knew if you let him in on the mannerisms he displayed, he'd do everything he could to stop them. 'Correct' them. You know, because when you'd commented on how his rays spun when he got excited, he was down in Parts and Services all but demanding them to fix his problem. Or at least, his concept of a problem. 

So instead, you let out a quiet laugh. "I'm always here to talk, but if you say so, I'll leave it lie."

"Good. Glad that's settled."

With that, he takes a few quick strides over to the craft tables and begins cleaning them up. You sigh, but let it go. It's not your business after all, that much had been made clear to you. 

As clean up goes along—quiet, save for small talk between the two of you, friendly, but nothing more—your thoughts go back to the Attendant once more. Specifically, his wings. 

Always constantly using them, the both of them. You think that despite having them before you arrived even, they were still in a way a new and exciting feature for the two animatronics. Seeing even the smallest of reasons to exercise them. Be it to flit about the room just a little quicker, play with the children, or to do a survey of the daycare—or the entire Plex in Moon's case—just a quick flap of their wings, and it was possible.

You suppose it's something that can't be helped. Though only every so often, in times like this, where you feel just a little more isolated than usual. A little more lonely. That feeling is what had drawn you here in the first place, in a way. Besides the need for a paying job that is. 

A chance for a restart, a fresh start even. When you first saw the Daycare, realized what a, solo existence, the two attendants had, it had gripped at you. Gripped at a particular part of your own being that you recognized. Despite having wings themselves, they're story was similar to yours. Outcasted from society and those around them for things outside their control. 

An inability to take flight, versus an inability to fly elsewhere. Trapped, in every sense of word. The only difference being the cage in use. 

"Penny for your thoughts, Dragonfly?"

You glance up, seeing Moon perched on the piece of the playset above you. You liked to come up here and sit sometimes, sit anywhere up high, just to get a taste for what could have been. 

You'd accepted long ago the way things were, and for the most part it wouldn't haunt you. It wasn't your fault, wasn't something in your control. It just was. There were plenty of others like you, even, and they held no shame, so neither would you. 

But that didn't control the longing that would ensnare you from time to time. 

Back in the present, you scoff at the lunar animatronic. "Knowing you you'd take more than just a penny from me. Probably my entire wallet if you could get by with it, yeah?"

"Perhaps." Moon snickers, faceplate spinning. "You'll never know until you try though."

You laugh, then shake your head. "Figured as much. Hard pass, Moon-man."

"Hm. Care to just share what's on your mind then?" He reaches over and above you to the opposite edge of the playset, essentially laying horizontal above you, gaze focused down on you. "Free of charge."

You consider the offer a moment, then mimic his pose, going from lean back, to laying back perpendicular to him, face covered in the glow of his red eyes. 

"You think it's silly to want something you can't have? That'll always be out of your reach and never within? Something you'll always have on the back of your mind, no matter how hard you try to live your life free of even a thought about it?"

Moon tilts his head. "What a loaded series of questions. I'm a jester, not a sage, you know." He chuckles, and usually you'd join in, maybe roll your eyes or the likes, but your heart's not in it. 

It's something he picks up on immediately, wings behind him fluttering just a tad. But even in the darkness you catch it. 

He puts a hand under his chin in thought. "Well, I suppose if you'd really want to get into it, yes."

You wait. 

Nothing else. 

"What?" He asks. 

You shrug. "Thought you'd share a bit more as to what. You know, be relatable and all that."

Moon chuckles, it takes on a more sinister edge at the end. 

"Not quite. But I'll listen to your plights if you'd like, Nightingale."

"Sometimes, more than anything, I wish I could fly." Your hands fold across your chest. "It's a silly endeavor, I know. But I still want it sometimes."

He must not have been expecting that, eyes widening just a tad. He asks a question you weren't anticipating. "Have you ever been?"

"A few times, when I was small. With my parents. They'd hold me below them and I'd pretend to be gliding all on my own." You close your eyes at the memories, filled with shrieks of laughter and childish glee. You think if they'd known that would be your only time up in the sky, they'd have taken you more often. 

"What was it like?"

You open your eyes. Looking above you to the former naptime attendant turned security bot. His words were soft, holding a tender curiosity you wouldn't have expected.

You furrow your brow. "What do you mean? You know what flying is like."

"The sky." He rasps, and it clicks. All but confirming one of your deepest beliefs then and there. 

You swallow, hiding the utter elation such information gives you, that hope for connection no longer so out of reach. You give it your best shot to provide an accurate, detailed, description. 

"It's colder than you think it would be. When you get high up. But the sun's warmth usually helps with that. The wind feels lovely on your feathers though." Your hand reaches out above you for a moment. "And the clouds, they're wet. Or well, damp. It was quite a shock the first time my dad dragged me through one." 

"What were you expecting?" Moon hums. 

You chuckle. "I don't know, cotton candy, or pillow fluff, or something like that. I was only like four." Your hand drops back down. "It was a long time ago."

Moon stays quiet. You continue. 

"And my first night flight. What a time. You always think if you could a little higher you'll reach the stars. Or at least that's what I thought, begging my mom to just 'go a little higher, just a little more'. She didn't always oblige me, but when she did, god, the buildings, the cities, the world, all of it felt so small." You shake your head. "And quiet. So, so quiet."

"Was that it then? The last time you were up there?" 

Another head shake. "No. I think I was maybe seven or eight before I got too heavy to lug around." 

Silence again, you think to look up to him again, gaze having become unfocused in your reminiscing. 

He's also somewhere else it seems, faceplate twisting back and forth, optics just a tinge dim. He comes out of it when he notices your stare. 

"I'll take you sometime." He states, nodding once.

"What?"

Another nod. "Into the sky. I'll take you there. You hardly weigh a thing to me."

"First of all, rude. Second of all... why?" You're a bit in disbelief. 

He shrugs. "Why not?"

Moon sits up then, back to his original position and you do the same. 

"Because that's a big thing to offer!" 

"Not offer." He pokes your forehead, eyes crinkling. "Promise."

You bluster. "Even worse!" 

You don't get to pester him further about it, as he flips back over the edge of the playset, landing right as the lights come back on. Sun looks up to you as you peer over the edge of the playset. He tilts his head at you. 

"What's with that look, Busybee?"

"I'm gonna get you out of here one day." You blurt. 

He freezes. "What?"

"I, if, if you want, I mean." You fumble to recover. "If you ever decide you want to leave. If you ever want to get out just for a moment, I'll help you. I promise."

Sun's rays twist, otherwise motionless, even as you take the nearest slide and walk over to him. 

Worried, you reach out for him. "Sun—"

Springing to life again, acting as if nothing happened. "So sorry, Sunshine! It seems I had a bit of a lapse there, won't happen again!"

"Oh. Gotcha. Okay." You turn around to get back to work, your short break now over, when his hand rests on your shoulder. 

You look up, Sun's eyes crinkle as his rays spin. 

"I hope one day I'll be able to take you up on that promise, and return it in kind."

You smile lightly, and nod. "Yeah. Me too."

And there we go! Hope i did the prompt and the au justice! Both were fun to work with. Excited to share more art and writing as the month goes on hehe

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info, you can also dm me!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

[lillotte17]

I think it is important to remember, when sifting through lore for facts and fic reasons, that the memories of Solas' regrets we see in the Lighthouse are not going to be the Exact Truth about what happened during these events.

This is how HE remembers those things happening. And memories are not always reliable narrators. In DAI, Solas gives us the example of the memories he witnessed at Ostagar, about Loghain as both the power-mad villain, and the veteran commander trying to save his troops from needless death. And they are both true for the people who lived those experiences. But they don't tell you what ACTUALLY happened.

Solas is dragging around thousands of years worth of regrets and mistakes. He focuses a lot of blame on himself, even beyond what was actually his fault. And he is reluctant to admit that Mythal was anything other than 'The Good Evanuris.'

The most obvious example is the last panel, where he kills Flemeth. The conversation that Rook and Co. hear is NOT the one that happened. Mythal did not argue for the fate of the world. She didn't ask him not to bring down the Veil. She made no protest beyond saying that he shouldn't have let Corypheus find his orb. She did not sound indignant or angry with him at all. She LET him take her power, even knowing it would kill her. (which was why I was honestly expecting her to have some Big Plan where like...her power let her take control of him and even if you talked him down, she would force him to tear open the Veil herself, but...whomp whomp)

Flemythal had the same amount of power that Solas had in Trespasser, and Solas' magic at the time was about the same as any talented mage of the modern age. She could have wiped the floor with him. She could have called a dragon or turned him into stone.

He didn't take her life, she gave it to him. She forgave him, and then she died to give him what he wanted.

And oh boy, that is so so SO much worse than her still being angry and arguing with him and telling him he was wrong. He does not know how to handle that At All.

It's also interesting because that is the only memory where Mythal DOES sound sharp with him. Every other time she is trying to talk him into something and he is the one arguing against it, she is remembered as being calm and rational and patient. Soft-spoken and almost motherly. Which...after meeting the fragment in the Crossroads, I kind of doubt was her typical MO. Even Morrigan says that she is 'prickly.'

Solas remembers her as kinder than she was before her death, because grief softens a lot of rough edges when we love someone. And afterwards, he thinks of her as someone who is still angry with him. Who will never forgive him. Because he is still angry at himself for 'getting her killed' the first time.

Mythal herself says that these memories are things he has 'cultivated like a tree reaching for the sun.' He has twisted these memories within himself into the shapes that they are, regardless of 'truth.'

That is NOT to say that he is absolved of guilt for the things we saw in those regrets! Or even that he's less guilty! But perhaps more along the lines of... 'It's important to remember that Solas was not the only person involved in a lot of these events, and therefore is likely not the only person blame should fall on.' However, Pride that he is, Solas is the one who remembers all of these things as being entirely his fault.

[freiflies]

@mayuurx

<3

[garvielloken1900]

If you take a “casual photo” but just so happen to make sure you include feet, you are evil and you know what you’re doing 🤨

[mikuheritageposts]

number one victory royale yeah fortnite we bout to get down

[mializzz]

currently making my mom watch the Get Back documentary because she’s only seen Let It Be and i’ve decided it’s time for her to experience greatness in all its glory

[overmocha1068]

2.7% of you need to have your heads examined

[textsfromtheemblem]

[noodles-and-tea]

Imma drop kick Ford for treating Lil Stanley like that. Keep it away??? Excuse me sir let me just smack you! How dare you treat that little boy like that. As if Stan doesn’t have enough self esteem issues as it is! You better hug him NOW 😭

Meanwhile Adult!Stanley is like “I will protect him with every last breath I have!” And hugging him so tight 🥹😫

I just needed you to know that Ford does come around… eventually.

[linkerbell]

Goat gives a sermon 💕

Also I have a TikTok now because of people committing art theft. 🙃 Feel free to follow for animatics and speed paints.

[thysanniia]

oh she so PRETTY!!

Honey Whip Miku....

[hey-there-22]

I love how the TARDIS had a human form with eleven and she was like "my thief, my thief, I love my thief" BUT FAILED TO MENTION THE GOD OF DEATH HAD BEEN IN HER BACK FOR DECADES.

[frownyalfred]

the funny thing about the Justice League is that a junior member can absolutely 100% walk into a Founders meeting and completely derail it by holding up their bleeding hand and saying “I think I need help?” and it’s over. Six different parental instincts get activated in one glorious, overlapping moment.

What was this meeting about? Who cares, it’s time to get the baby hero into the medbay. This requires all of them, of course. And then it turns out it wasn’t a bleeding hand but blood from a (hidden) chest wound and now that newbie is going to wake up to six different parental lectures being delivered bedside in the most embarrassing moment of their entire life.