#i miss my disaster changeling

[vulpixelates]

Thinking about the fact that I have a ranger OC who is a war deserter on the run and when coming up with an alias, they chose Canary Longshot... yeah, totally a real name

[rexscanonwife]

Because I'm insane, here's some drawings and doodles of some fairly oddparents stuff I've been doing the last couple days plus @circusgoth-dotcom 's s/i! (Pictures taken moments before disaster)

I don't know why I seem to suddenly and RANDOMLY get new hyperfixations lately, but my partner pointed out that it's always when they're gone on a work trip 😂😂 the colors aren't super concrete on my s/i and the outfit in general is a work in progress still, but I've been having a lot of fun experimenting with the style!

Taglist♡: @me-myself-and-my-fos @tiny-cloud-of-flowers @sunstar-of-the-north @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @changeling-selfship @crushes-georg @miutonium @cherry-bomb-ships @rosieaurora @rejaytionships @sunflawyer @in-true-blue-love @tropicalgothships @little-miss-selfships @hotrodharts @cupiidzbow @frozenhi-chews

[y-rhywbeth2]

I know we sickos all love the tragic memory of Durge killing their parents as a child, but honestly - as a lover of interpreting Durge as a tragic eldricht horror cuckoo/changeling creature - my favourite memory is baby Durge playing tag with the other children in a "time before Bhaal".

They're being gentle with their friends, but the narration explicitly describes them as hunting and compares them to a predator. If Durge pities their child self the narration just goes: "Mayhaps that child was already a murderer." "Oh, sorry, did you think this was a happy memory?" asks the game before it points and laughs at your naivete.

You pair that with the little cuckoo killing their foster parents and it's very much like somebody took in a baby predator. Sure, it hasn't grown into its claws and aggression but then we reach the starting point of puberty and suddenly the once cuddly baby is a danger to everyone around it.

Oh, except that apparently there's a chance that Durge was already killing things as a baby!

We know they were aware of Sceleritas following them around when they were young, occasionally talking to them as he does in the dead family memory - even if he hadn't presented himself yet. Even if he doesn't always speak, did Durge grow up seeing him out of the corner of their eye?

The fun thing about Durge is that we get to make our own character out of the scraps we're given, so all of it is up to us to decide for our own characters/playthroughs.

I interpret Durge as being like the Bhaalspawn we meet in Throne of Bhaal, Gavid, and the 3.5e tieflings - they've always known they were different. Always had dark urges and whispers in their mind, coming from the essence in their blood.

Kids have accidents around them, pets go missing. Maybe they have black outs, maybe they're aware but can't stop (small children aren't exactly masters of impulse control). We know from a later memory that Durge feels self-hatred regarding their urges, so presumably they learnt enough to know this is wrong and feel guilt. Do they still feel pain and nausea if they resist? I'm going to assume for my own take that since they got the Urge back then, they did.

I wonder if their family ever took them to wizards and clerics, trying to find out if their child was cursed?

Then that family dies. Violently. Graphically. Another tragic accident taking place around the twitchy weird kid who sees monsters and hears voices.

If you play paladin then the Oathbreaker Knight tells you that you've broken your oath multiple times, so I assume that these disasters didn't stop happening.

And judging from the fact that they showed uncharacteristic compassion to a homeless person at the peak of their "I'm such an evil bastard villains like Elder Brains and the God of Tyranny are impressed" era, I think that Durge ended up homeless themselves at some point between losing their parents and joining the temple (I'm also pretty sure that's the period of their life the cannibalism memory happened in).

And then they "came of age" (I recall the age of majority being 15 in the Realms at some point, but can't find that anywhere so don't take my word for it) and Sceleritas introduces himself, and it's time for a family history lesson that explains everything and Orin gets a sibling she absolutely never wanted, ever - put that thing back in the ditch it came from, so help me.

[lynnlovesthestars]

Mess.

Pairing: Astarion x oc. genderfluid tav, he/him pronouns.

Genre and warnings: Smut, fluff, trauma talk, body worship.

words: 2k? more? idk

AN: my therapist told me to post everything i finished so here i am

Astarion tugged Lynn with him, despite hating the disaster that his tent was, he promised he'd open up to him, and that included his personal mess. "I apologize for.. what this is" Astarion blushed ever so slightly. "I understand if you don't-" Lynn stopped him, uncaring for the blood jars forgotten in the corner or the ragged baby blanket he kept on top of his bedroll.

"Astarion, I don't care" Lynn smiled tenderly. "My tent isn't any better" He admitted. He was good at hiding what he didn't want anyone to see, and that included his mess of mementos and the fewest belongings he had. "I don't care as long as I can hold you" Lynn gently squeezed Astarion's hand, tugging him towards the bedroll. It was not particularly big, it barely fit the two as they laid close, looking at each other.

They started slowly, with their foreheads pressed together and their hands intertwined. "May I?" Astarion shyly raised Lynn's hand to his lips, while he earn a nod from the changeling, a soft smile curled on his lips as Astarion kissed each knuckle delicately, as if Lynn was made of porcelain.

Lynn couldn't hold back the blush, as Astarion smiled back at him. "May I?" Lynn asked softly, just inches away from his lips. At Astarion's agreement, Lynn leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Astarion’s temple. Astarion huffed delicately, taken aback. He didn’t expect Lynn to go for his forehead, he was ready to taste his lips, he missed those lips.

It was such a pure moment for the two, their hearts hammering in their chest as they delicately caressed the other, slowly daring to push each other's boundaries and come closer.

They had promised to heal together, to overcome their nightmares, and slowly, they were making it one caress at a time.

“Let me be your mirror again” Lynn gently wrapped his arms around Astarion’s frame, taking him in his embrace, as he noticed the impatience in Astarion’s movements. They ached so much for each other that taking it slow was godsdamned hard.

“Are you going to compliment my ears again?” He rolled his eyes playfully. As much as he wanted to admit the contrary, he had appreciated the way Lynn had complimented those small details, no one ever did, and it felt.. nice.

“I might” He laughed softly. “They look very bitable if you ask me” He leans closer, his breath caressing the tip of his ear, making Astarion shiver under the hot gust.

“Please..” Astarion almost moaned as he curled against Lynn’s chest, as if he tried to hide.

“Please what? Little love” Lynn cooed before kissing his temple.

“Don’t bite my ear, they are sensitive” Astarion quipped softly, glad his cheeks were out of sight, that strangled moan had been enough to reveal.

“I shall not bite them, I promise” The changeling couldn’t help but cradle the man closer, making sure they were both tucked snugly in the bedroll.

“But they are pretty, I don’t know how to explain it” He mumbled as one of his hands gently lifted his chin. “Your eyes though” He hesitated looking for the proper words. There was something about them that made it hard to describe, they were like pools of emotions and Lynn feared Astarion didn’t know how much they reflected.

“What, are they ugly?” Astarion raised an eyebrow both confused and scared Lynn might not like the crimson shade that tinted his iris. He had always been confident, mindless of other’s opinions, yet when it came to Lynn it was different.

“No, absolutely not” He murmured. “They are mesmerizing, and they reveal much more than what you think”

“You think so?”

“Mhmh” Lynn nodded as he caressed his cheek and kissed his forehead again, stealing a little hum of satisfaction from Astarion that was slowly melting in the grasp again. “Sometimes, I could tell when your confidence would falter” He admitted. “Your eyes would tell me if I was talking to you, or to you”

“So obvious uh?” He sighed, not entirely defeated. With Lynn he felt as if those moments where his persona would slip, were not an error, it was natural- between the fear and the growing feelings in his stomach, to the point that now his mask his almost always tucked away when he’s alone with the changeling. He trusted him enough to be his true self, he realized.

“I don’t know, it might be that I stared at them so hard too” He said sarcastically to ease down the mood again. “But to me, they are truly a mirror to your soul” Silence dropped over the two as Lynn gently caressed his cheek, to move to his lips, tracing his lower lip. “Your lips are irresistible” He had to fight the urge to lean in and steal another kiss.

“And your cheeks” He sighed as he admired the way they started taking the almost lovely shade of pink again. “i love when you blush, they take the smallest color and you look so alive”

“Are you implying I look dead the rest of the time?” He joked, this time not hiding the blush but rather flaunt the reddish shade of his cheek.

“No” Lynn couldn't suppress his laugh. “you know what I mean.. cause you feel it too” He closed his eyes, gently brushing the tip of their noses together, followed by Astarion that closed his eyes as well.

“Your neck..” He sighed as he gently cradled Astarion's head, tilting it to the side and exposing his supple neck as if he was the one about to bite. “I wish I could kiss it all day” He left an open mouthed kiss on the exposed skin, and another where his shoulder met his neck. “Your chest doesn’t rise, but it isn’t any less calming” He whispered under his breath, aching to lower himself and kiss his sternum, yet resisting for another moment.

“Your arms” He gently traced the bicep barely accentuated by their position. “You are not that strong, but you hold me so tight sometimes I melt.” He admitted as he brought one of his hands to his mouth. “And your hands” He groaned satisfied just at the look. “They fit so nicely in mine” He kissed the back.

“So cliche” Astarion blushed and giggled as one cute fang was exposed from his lips.

“I might be but they grasp so nicely at my hips, and they cup perfectly my cheek, I might just say they were made for me” He cooed as he kissed each fingertip softly.

“You are going to make me cringe at this rate” Astarion teased with the gentlest smile as he looked away for a moment.

“And yet you are blushing and smiling, If I didn’t know any better..” Lynn trailed off before being stopped by Astarion. “Don’t say it”

“Okay little love, I won’t” Lynn laughed. “But let me just say, right now you are sitting perfectly in my arms, and maybe I don’t want you to ever leave my grasp”

“Lucky for you I don’t want to move from here” Astarion leaned forward to kiss the tip of Lynn’s nose.

They laid like that for what felt eternity, as they grazed and kissed each other skin with fleeting and gentle lips, murmuring sweet nothings as they enjoyed the calm of the night. Lynn didn’t care whether in the morning he was going to regret not resting, but being so close to Astarion, being touched so softly was worth every sleepless second spent kissing. It was almost intoxicating, the grasps and gasps had him high on the feeling.

It was moments later that Lynn shivered. Astarion's finger grazed over his hip instantly having his hands tightened it's grip on Astarion's. "Everything okay, darling?" He asked tenderly as he moved his hand to Lynn's cheek, gently tracing the swell of his cheek.

Lynn nodded as a single tear rand down the peachy skin. "Hips are.. one of my trigger areas, I haven't been touched so softly there ever” He had told Astarion about this past, the four years of confinement and what they made of him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to share the details, where touch would feel like scorching pain and when love would turn to agony.

Astarion moved closer, his body flush against Lynn's, his body heat enveloping Astarion tenderly. The elf's hand reached for Lynn's cheek again, catching the rolling tear with his thumb. "I understand" Astarion pressed his forehead against Lynn's, eyes closed, just their breath mixing in the middle as they held each other. He did understand cause for him it was his scars, he had been terrified of having them touched, sometimes just the thought would make him spiral. He had understood how this worked. “Do you want me to stop” He asked. “We can stop at any moment”

“No, don’t” Lynn urged. “I want you closer, I need you closer” He admitted, this time he was the one blushing

Astarion gently grasped at Lynn's hips again, as he pulled him in a slow and tender kiss, gasping for air whenever they had the chance. Their hands could barely keep in one spot as Astarion's kiss would be dragged back in from Lynn's yearning ones. Astarion gently pushed Lynn down on his back, straddling and towering over the other as he navigated his hands under the changeling's shirt, while his erection was impossible to hide.

Astarion wanted to try, he had missed the way Lynn had wrapped around him, the way Lynn would arch his back, or the way his mouth repeated his name like a plea. He has missed how Lynn- big and buff as he was- would beg and melt under Astarion.

Lynn sighed softly as he allowed Astarion to guide him, wrapping his legs around his hips. "Lynn..' Astarion murmured as they were both breathless and aching.

Gently cupping his cheek and tracing his jaw with his lips.. "divine" He rasped before leaving an open mouthed kiss on his neck .

"I-" Lynn gasped, warmth spreading in his stomach and a yearning feeling pooling in his chest. He needed Astarion closer, his hands on his body, his flesh burning with his heat. Astarion knew from the way Lynn desperately clung to him, pleaded for his lips and how he gasped whenever Astarion would remove another layer of Lynn's clothes. "Please.." Lynn said hoarsely, trembling under him, their naked skin fiery as they kissed.

“Are you sure?” Astarion asked as he kissed his forehead tenderly. “We don't have to do anything if you don't want to” Astarion reassured him. It was ironic how he was the one asking, though appreciated.

“Do you want to do this?” Lynn asked back, tangling his hand with Astarion's.

“My love, can you feel this?” Astarion purred as his hips pressed against Lynn’s tight ring, his hard cock stealing a lewd moan from Lynn's lips. “It says it all” He leaned forward, tracing Lynn's neck with kisses, bites and licks, worshipping his flesh agonizingly slow as Lynn's arms wrapped around Astarion.

The elf reached for the grease bottle that was in his pack, and poured abundantly the liquid on his palm.

“I want you to tell me if I need to stop” Astarion whispered as he quickly stroked himself, coating his length in the substance while he looked for Lynn's eyes.

“I promise” Lynn offered him a small, shy smile as Astarion's clean hand linked with Lynn's, both for support and as a reminder that they could hold on to each other. They had practiced a lot, small things to keep each other in the loop, like holding hands, looking for each other's eyes, like pressing their foreheads together to stay closer.

Astarion lowered again, catching his lips tenderly as he lifted Lynn's legs to help him angle, while the changeling's cheeks flushed deeply.

"I love you" Lynn murmured against Astarion's lips as he closed his eyes while Astarion pressed his forehead against Lynn’s. He slowly pushed himself past his rim with a gasp as Lynn fisted the blanket both in pain and ecstasy. “I love you” Astarion whimpered as all his senses awoke.

Lynn was tigh, clenching around him like madness as his cock was already leaking desperately on his stomach.

"So good for me" Astarion cooed instantly having Lynn blushing and moaning under him. "And so breathtaking" He rasped before he leaned to catch his lips in a kiss again and again. Astarion could feel his body cursing with goosebumps, as he took a moment to focus, squeezing Lynn's hand softly. Lynn shied under Astarion's eyes, his cheeks flushing even more and more as Astarion started moving.

Astarion swore he saw the cosmos as he sunk in the warmth, as Lynn became one with him. The changeling's gasps reminded him he was free, that he was not with one of his victims, but rather with him that had done so much for him.

He had fallen for Lynn, and so much had changed. Firstly he had admitted his- awfully played- plan, and Lynn had forgiven him. Lynn had held his hand while walking down the halls of Cazador's palace and bathed him after they were back at the elfsong tavern and Astarion could barely function. Lynn that held him as he wept endlessly after a nightmare. Lynn had defended him from Araj, Lynn had kissed his scars.

He poured it all with his strokes, making sure they held in them the feelings that he held in his heart. And Lynn wasn't doing any less. Lynn, the man he loved so purely and deeply, was taking him and and loving him with every inch of him. They were not just fucking, they were devoting each other despite their struggles.

“Astarion, you f-feel so good” He cried out as Astarion held him in position, stretching him deliciously.

Lynn was not vocal, his whimpers though echoed in Astarion's brain endlessly as he swallowed him inch by inch.

"My Lynn" Astarion moaned as he reached forward and caressed his cheek. "My lovely lovely Lynn" He panted desperately as he made Lynn melt under his thrusts.

Lynn threw his head back as he arched under Astarion's graze, his body cursing with something new, something sweet he couldn't help but chase as Astarion lost himself in him.

"Look at me" Astarion whispered breathlessly as the slow burning passion was eating them alive. Curses, moans, the sweet sweet sound of their hips meeting and their love overtaking them.

Lynn was his and he was Lynn's, devoting their hands, lips, eyes to worshipping the other. They could read it on each other's face, on the way their eyes glistened, or their lips parted and met, or the way their muscles tensed and everything stopped for a moment. It was just them, framed in time: Astarion cradling Lynn to his chest as he stretched him and loved him, while Lynn was gasping, so full, so soft, whispering Astarion's name like a plea. They were one as they twitched, begged, cried for the other, gushed and slowly, tenderly kissed. They didn't realized tears were streaming down their faces until they came back to their senses, though still breathless, their orgasms spilled on Lynn's chest and leaking from his tight hole. Yet all they cared about was drying those tears with the palms of their hands.

“My love, you alright?” Astarion asked worried , while uncaring for his own tears as he reached for Lynn’s cheek.

“Never been better, you?” He replied weakly as he sat up just enough to tug Astarion in his lap and dry his tears softly.

“Darling I'm home” He whispered as he leaned against Lynn's naked chest.

They laid in each other's embrace, spent, still whispering the other's name as they eased down and tangled back together. The tears that were falling held in years of pain, of wounds and blood, they were the tears of two men that had lost hope, yet found respite and home in the other's care. They were the tears of relief, of love, of belonging as Astarion was resting on Lynn's chest trembling and panting.

"I love you"s under their breath were whispered as they kissed away the tears, as they cleaned each other carefully, as they held on to each other, with just a blanket draped on their bodies, as they kissed, as they caressed. "I love you"'s sworn under the protection of the moon, only for the other to hear.

Lynn pulled Astarion against his chest again once they were tucked in the bedroll, along with the thicker blanket which ended up shielding them from the cold. Lynn kissed Astarion's temple as his arms held him close and he gently ran his fingers down his skin. Astarion sighed peacefully as he curled into the embrace, making himself smaller as if hiding

“Are you okay, little love?” Lynn kissed his cheek.

“I wish we could stay like this forever” Astarion sighed, gently resting his palm on Lynn's heart. “Not a worry in sight”

“I promise you” Lynn placed one hand atop Astarion's hand on his chest. “I'll make sure that this will be our future” He murmured.

[ashleyfableblack]

With a gust of green flame Queen Chrysalis Sparkle appeared in the disaster-zone that was the West Tower royal laboratory of her wife. "Twilight? I-"

"Honeybug! Thank you for coming home early."

A wide-eyed Queen Twilight cautiously prodded at the hissing spider with a pair of tongs. It lunged and snapped at them with its chelicerae. It backed away from her, it's forelimbs raised in a threatening pose. As it sideled sideways, looking for an opening in Twilight's defenses she maneuvered the tongs like a shield.

A concerned Chrysalis regarded the scene with a raised eyebrow. "That is a Green Widow."

Twilight continued her defensive dance with the irate arachnid. "Correct!"

Chrysalis looked from the hissing creature to Twilight and back. "And why is it here in your laboratory with it's acidic spittle and venomous bite which could even kill an alicorn, like my wife?" Her horn crackled with a whisp of green flame. She drew close to her pony wife, ready to interpose herself.

"I know you're concerned, honeybug." Twilight quickly attempted to reassure her. "I'm fine- WOOP!" She ducked as a thin spray of grey mist shot past her shoulder. It's impact left a smoking buckshot pattern on the nearby bookshelf.

Chrysalis pursed her lips, her fangs scraping against the chitin in worry. "I see." In a gust of green changeling flames she created an invisible shield around Twilight.

"The potency of the green widow's venom is legendary and it's precisely why this one is here. Green widow bites in the Whitetail woods are rare but they have a very high mortality rate. I need to retrieve a sample of its venom to continue our local hospital's research into developing a viable antivenom. This little fellow was volunteered by our local wildlife wranglers for the process. Normally Fluttershy would be handling this but she's come down with the ponypox."

The spider kicked a few of the broken tongue depressors out of its way. With an angry chomp it hefted up the tattered remains of a plush doll, made to resemble the buttercream pegasus and flung it at Twilight. "I'm afraid this little fellah is not in any mood to cooperate."

"Why do you have a little plushie of her?"

"Discord left it here after our last tea-time." She traded knowing eyes with her wife and shrugged. "I didn't ask. Anyways, I was hoping you could help with this moody little guy, with your people's knowledge of the creatures of the deep woods, I theorized you might have an insight to its behavior or at least be able to hypnotize it momentarily."

Chrysalis chuckled. "I'm so glad you had the good sense to ask for my help." She kissed her wife's horn and gave it a playful nip with her fangs. "But mesmerizing it with my enchanting gaze won't be necessary, beloved."

Chrysalis turned to the spider and made a series of clicks and whispered hisses. The furious arachnid set down the beaker it had hefted overhead, prepared to hurl at Twilight. The two hissed and spat back and forth for a moment as Twilight watched in wide-eyed surprise. They were communicating. She was still learning just how helpful it was to have a wife who had literally been almost every species of creature in the world.

"You speak its language?" Her brow furrowed. "It has a language?"

The creature angrily stomped it's forelimbs as Chrysalis nodded. Occasionally it pointed at Twilight and made a particularly disgusted sound, slapping its pedipalps together.

Chrysalis sighed. "Yes. Of a sort. Most sapient beings do." There was a slight tinge of irritation to her words.

"Chrysalis!" Twilight used her magic to retrieve a pencil and note tablet from a nearby desk, excited to record this new knowledge. "This is incredible! Equestrian science knows so little about the green widow!" She hadn't even considered this discovery. "Ooooo! What did it say?"

"Well, for starters, Her name is Miss Mugglywumpus. She does not appreciate being snatched from her burrow and she is very offended by your eyelashes."

Twilight blinked. "My… eyelashes?" The spider hissed and reared up again.

"Yes." Chrysalis looked back to the angry spider. "You've been fluttering them at her in a very rude threat display."

Twilight lifted a tiny mirror to examine herself, suddenly very self-conscious. Normally she was very proud of the inky black cilia which framed her almond-shaped violet eyes. Chrysalis often complimented her on their "come-hither" quality. She supposed they might resemble antennae or some other form of limb to the right perspective.

Her changeling wife continued. "Not only that but your aggressive blinking has been signaling very crass remarks about her hygiene, the size of her abdomen and capacity to spawn a respectably-sized brood."

"I WHAT?!"

Chrysalis motioned to the creature with her serpentine eyes. It glared up at Twilight with all 8 of its crimson peepers. Fangs glistening, forelimbs folded across it's thorax. If there was any expression in a spider's body-language which might indicate it had been the recipient of a potent yo-mama slam, this looked to be about right.

Twilight gave a dejected sigh as Chrysalis placed a consoling hoof across her withers.

She had expected today to be quite eventful. However, as Rainbow Dash might say, she did not have 'sparking a first-contact disaster with her face' on her bingo card today.

[ariel-cohen-art]

I just had a dream and I think it's about A.I art, and it gave me an interesting insight I thought I'd share. If you can stand to read a relatively long crazy dream.

I went to a picnic with my college friends (I go to art school. We are all artists then.) There I met, among many of my friends, a very white boy, almost albino looking, who doesn't really exist irl. He offered me chocolate from a foreign brand. Cool thing about that chocolate: Its whole branding was "Hey kids! *You're a changeling*. Here's what the kid you replaced is eating in the fae realm!" (Lowkey awesome branding. Also interesting. I'd always thought about changelings as a human baby being taken to the fae realm, but I never considered the fae kid who stays in their place. How long until they realize they don't belong? Do they ever go back to the fae realm? Btw, I promise all of this is relevant.)

So after the picnic all of us took a bus and went back to an abandoned-ish place. I listened to my "Ode to Loneliness" playlist on the bus (I actually have this playlist. It's the "I wanna be alone bc I don't belong in this world" playlist. I like it.)

Now cut to another scene. A robot actress, at a press conference, basically advertising herself as a product, talking about how her robot company had made her and how realistic and beautiful she was. She *was* beautiful, and actually worked as an actress. But then a guy came and tried to shoot her, to stop her from stealing real actresse's jobs. He missed the shot and the robot had to be removed from the conference.

Now back to me and my group of artist losers. We got to the abandoned place. The reason we were there was because the white boy had been giving a mission by the King of Dreams (Yep. Morpheus himself, Dream of the Endless, the Sandman, The Oneiromancer, ma' boy. ✨️). Now this boy was kinda proud, (... a proud.. boy.. that's why he was white, I love my brain fr) he had a bit of a superiority complex, so he hated the idea of there *being* a god or king of dreams, with power above him, telling him what to do, but he did what Morpheus asked anyway. He created a mummy. (He didn't bring it back to life. I think he used a mummy as a vessel, but the life he created was new, it just incarnated in the mummy. Like Frankenstein.).

So the mummy woke up and started asking who created him and who created his creator. He then got violent and started attacking people and I woke up.

*Ok but what is the point about A.I art in this dream?*

So what called my attention when I woke up was the contrast. The robot artist, a perfect and confident actress. Even when she was targeted by the shooter, she was protected and comforted like a human would. The crowd looked genuinely upset for her.

Meanwhile there's the real human artists. Our messy disaster boy with a questionable personality, feeling commissioned by outside forces beyond his control, yielding to them and creating a monster. Like all art, it was formed out of something that had already existed in the past. A terrifying creation just as messy as he was, full of confusion, anger issues and existential anguish.

That is what a real artist is like. This is how real art is made. Real artists listen to "loneliness playlists" while in a bus full of people they know. We eat our changeling themed chocolates to cope with the fact that we feel like changelings, stuck in the human realm, left behind and out of place. We have questionable personalities and beliefs, massive egos and a ton of existential anguish. Human art is made because we exist and live like that.

While A.I art is perfect, flawlessly beautiful and beloved by the masses, human art is a messy mirror created by even messier artists to reflect who we are. It suffers as we do, it mirrors our questionings, our violence, our deepest thoughts. It is our imperfect monster.

[alenchikova]

Ideas and headcanons about Kodanth

Kodanth and his stress problems and the story with sedatives

Strickler: So, how much and what have you eaten, Kodanth? I need to understand your condition and how I can help you.

Kodanth: A couple things...

Strickler: A couple pills of what, exactly?

Kodanth: very expression silent.

Strickler, slowly changing in his face: A couple of... blisters?

Kodanth: very guiltily silent.

Strickler, horrified: You ate a couple packs of blisters?!

Kodant, awkwardly averting his eyes: ...a couple boxes of packs..... they're delicious, by the way....

Strickler: ...it's my fault, you shouldn't have been left alone for even five minutes.

Kodanth, somewhat indignantly: I'm perfectly capable of dealing with the realities of this world!

Strickler: Last time, you miraculously avoided getting hit by a car and nearly had a heart attack from flashing ads in the Troll Market....

Kodanth: ...touché...

Continuing the theme of resistance to sunlight. I think Kodanth missed it.

One day the Changelings told him: wait outside, it's just warm and sunny (I think the sun is good for Kodanth's health, since the light doesn't kill him) and left, thinking that Kodanth would go back to the base if he got tired of waiting. He didn't. He heated up to a frying pan and was accidentally burned everyone around him. The changelings were horrified at what had happened. And to the decision that Kodanth should be discreetly guarded to avoid it.

That changeling who taught Kodanth how to drive a car will never admit it to anyone, because he created the disaster. Kodanth is way worse than Blinky. If only because he knows how to drive. He just likes to wreak havoc.

He's pissed off at Gunmar's statue, but he doesn't tell to take it down or break it because the CHANGELINGS WERE TREATING THAT AND THEY WOULD BE BAD ABOUT IT. Instead, Kodanth just rasped the statue with a permanent marker in a very profane and point-by-point manner. The marker is still lying at the basement of the statue. And more inscriptions gradually appear on it, including with other materials. Now it's a kind of tradition of the Janus Order.

Kodanth honestly tries to get used to the drastically changed world around him, but it doesn't go well. He overhears Toby's joke, not addressed to him, that the best drink is coffee brewed with energy drinks. Kodanth isn't naive, but he's never had coffee before and thought it was a good idea to stay awake longer and work properly. It's not.

Kodanth: he hears colors and sees sounds.

Strickler, as the most responsible of the changelings: ...how long have you been awake?

Kodanth, overjoyed, wanders around the apartment like a hornet in the evenings (hornets acts like drunk people in evenings and nights, they are can't see their nests in dark, i see that irl it was fun): I DON'T KNOW, BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER! I CAN STAY AWAKE FOREVER AND MY ABILITY TO WORK ONLY GETS BETTER!!!!!

Kodanth: writes gibberish in a mixture of Troll, Old English and something else I don't know, probably the code of the Changelings.

Strickler: carefully takes Kodanth's cup and tastes the contents.

Strickler: chokes on it and immediately spits it out.

Strickler: WHAT IS THIS?! THIS... WHO BREWED YOUR ENERGY DRINK COFFEE, WHO TOLD YOU THAT?!

The kids, who were in the other room, whisper: r u n.

Kodanth: Passed out sleeping on the floor where he was standing.

Strickler: panicking, trying to get Kodanth on the couch, while calling Barbara, because she's a doctor

Strickler: ...why do I have to do this...oh, yeah, I know why, but still.....

Kodanth is a walking disaster with a hypertrophied sense of guilt. He doesn't know what to do with his emotions, because he's used to being terrified all the time, but now he's out of status Gum-Gum King and Janus Order Headmaster and it makes him angry. He wants companionship and good treatment, but he is like a stray cat, only an outstretched hand will bite off. And a lot of trolls have forgotten that he wasn't a Gum-Gum and Advisor for pretty eyes. Kodanth had too much work to do...

And the changelings are also 1000% planting snacks to Kodanth because they can't stand to see how skinny and tortured he is.

I think he's good at solving management problems and reconciling everyone with everyone else, but here's the world around him.... Kodanth is a tired chaotic problem with trust on his legs

Toby 100% knows that Kodanth actually raised Strickler and is now 25/8 bitching to Jim that Kodanth is his new GRANDPA

The original idea behind Kodanth's patterns was this.

Wooooooooo, the patterns and swirls on Kodanth are probably made by himself, as a tribute to his fallen apprentice substitutes

But then I thought of a less self-mutilating memory.

About the memory of fallen changelings - Kodant has a kind of beads or rosary made of pieces of glowing crystals, each bead engraved with the name of a fallen changeling. Kodanth carries them in his pockets, because if Gunmar sees a show of affection or weakness, he will kill both Kodanth and his changelings.

The engravings on his body are a kind of magic conductors, amplifiers. Kodanth is a kinda weak sorcerer, but he still can do a lot of damage. Sorcery is very energy-consuming, which is why Kodanth actually lost his ability to magic in the Dark Lands due to starvation and weakness.

He actively gestures with his tail and can pick up objects with it. So also carried baby changelings and Gum-Gums on his back and tail. Perpetually pinned sensitive ears. He lost half of his right ear in a fight with another Gum-Gum. The left one had once had an earring on it as well.

Kodant is ambidextrous, but his original leading hand is left-handed.

I should add that he has a nasty sleeping problem and has nightmares. And the guilt of what were done to his changelings are Gunmar-sized....

I think about how much Kodanth hates himself, and I think he hates himself SO MUCH.

Kodanth refuses to accept that his option of training changelings was the best thing to do in that situation. Gunmar needed loyalists who were not united with each other, who fought for power and praise, who were broken, often disposable killers, who were torn from their native tribes, unable to return, and who knew no other life.

Does Kodanth understand that? Yes. Does he accept it? No. He wished he could be a real support and protection to the changelings in the past, not an affectionate paw and a cloak of concealment from the sly. But that wasn't possible. Had Gunmar realized that instead of designated assassins, his advisor was secretly raising a cohesive, clinging army, capable of understanding and realizing their desires and goals, and with every chance of wresting freedom with tooth and claw.... no, Gunmar would kill them all, for such an army was not for his needs and purposes. Kodanth had done the only thing he could. Broke, instilled the Codex with the hope that the changelings could survive anywhere, albeit alone. I think Kodanth hoped those could find their place in the world, the further away from Gunmar the better. A show of loyalty that for some has become blind adoration and faith in the best from Gunmar's hands. Kodanth truly hates himself for this, forgetting that he is a changeling too, that he was similarly robbed of choice from the beginning...

...sometimes I think about how much worse and sadder the story would be if Kodanth had wings....

...because he'd be the one teaching Strickler to fly....

...perhaps the word "had" means that the wings are gone, as a consequence of the battle for the Killahead bridge, for example....

I also have a sudden au about Kodanth the TrollHunter. He was able to escape the Darklands with the help of the Fetch along with future Not-Enrique only to fall for the Amulet....

The only TrollHunter who cares about the fate of the changelings

Now imagine the joy of Wendel, Draal, and the entire Troll Market at having such a TrollHunter! :3

And Blinky with his crowning glory: MASTER KODANTH!!!

And let's not forget AAARRRRGHH, whom Kodanth has known for a long time!

The Troll market will be flooded with changelings, for where there's one, there's a MILLION of them.

Merlin will be very pleased.

Aaand about Merlin...

I think Kodanth hates sorcerers. He can tolerate the presence of Douxie or Zoe, but someone like Merlin or Morgana gives him a cold, measured urge to kill, because Kodanth remembers exactly what they did to him or the other changelings.

[scarymosscryptid]

I found the Fantasy high OC tag so I thought I'd share mine!

Picrew I used

Name: Migs Duncan (They/She)

Race: changeling

Age: 18

Class: Wild Magic Sorcerer/ Glamor Bard

In their junior year!

Gander fluid and a Bi disaster

They're autistic and music is their special interest

In the drama club (tech but would like to try acting)

writes music but is too nervous to perform in front of people

I haven't made an adventuring party for them yet but I will soon!

Lmk if you wanna talk about Fantasy high OCs!

[pynkhues]

Speaking of new shows, I've started watching this show called Billions and I can't decide if it's brilliant or terrible (from financial inaccuracies to odd writing)(I think season 4 is the best personally), it's on ShowTime (first 4 seasons are on prime) and if it interests you I'd love to hear your opinion on it?

(Sorry if this is weird lol)

It's not weird at all, anon! Thanks for the rec! I've always had a soft spot for Paul Giamatti (I was obsessed with Big Fat Liar when I was like, 11, haha, and he's been in so many things I've loved since then as I've grown up), and the plot sounds pretty fun.

Now that I've typed that out too, I kinda feel like fun might be what's missing from a lot of shows I'm watching at the moment? I'm watching s2 of The Bear which I need to quit, because I find it very frustrating and I don't particularly like it, The Clearing which I think is a disaster (also wild to me how they've approached the subject matter tbh), Broadchurch which I do like, but s2 was a bit of a hot mess (I've heard s3 is better again, so I'm hopeful for that), and The Last of Us which is taking me forever to get through for a whole range of reasons.

Blergh, this sounds so negative, haha. On a positive note, I'm very excited for The Changeling and am planning on watching that when it starts next week. Dark fairytales that veer into horror are absolutely my jam, and I really like Adina Porter a lot.

[creativenicocorner]

Hiiiiii is Act II up or was it Act III that had to be updated? Its been a hot minute 😩

AAAH renee!! Tumblr didn't notify me that I got an ask ;0; I'm not even sure how long ago you sent this, but regardless thank you for your patience!! And so true, it really has been a hot minute

I, well, (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) I'm still 3 chapters away from finally finishing ACT I there's still no update. In fact there hasn't been much of an update since [checks notes] 02 Nov 2021 orz ... sweet christ.

BUT I'm always grateful and appreciative of everyone's patience as I wander about working on other WIPs, and regaining my energy ♡

I still have so many plans for Terpsichore, despite of its current deep hibernation, there are plot points and encounters that I can't wait to blow people's tits off with (hopefully, if I play my cards right haha) its a fic that is so deep within me it'll eventually be told in full no matter what, it just might...take a while lol

In the meantime while it has been on the back burner I even considered new and different ways to tackle ACT II and how to approach going about posting it. I might not make it a monster long fic like I did for ACT I, and in fact break it down to more manageable sizes, but also perhaps more organized.

I'm in the process of trying to write a fic with an actual posting schedule (though it isn't ToA related), and seeing how that turns out and how I feel about that I might consider doing the same for ACT II (the downside would probably be that folks would have to wait Even Longer lol )

I'm happy to say that playing in WIPS for other fandoms and trying out different styles has really helped when it comes to my self imposed nervousness for ACT I. Which was such a me thing to have happen lol through no fault of anyone's but my own, I had been working on that fic for so long and the fact it was coming to an end and wanting that ending to be Perfect™ really intimidated me, (granted the absolute disillusionment due to the last season and the movie didn't help matters either, It DID help create Unbecoming 2 Electric Boogaloo which I love with my whole heart and will be happy to return to and finish one day)

But these days, after working on and currently writing on other projects that need for The Perfect Chapter End, and intimidation, have dwindled less and less!!

I do still miss writing about the Disaster Muppets, I thought of Walter non-stop while listening to Jorge Rivera-Herrans's Epic the Musical (but thats because I have always layered Walter over with my love of Odysseus, I'm a fucking sucker for tricksters yo, this is known)

So yeah the changeling brain worms are still in my noggin, hibernating and waiting for the return of its own springtime

And when that does happen and I do come back, it'll be stronger than ever (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧♡

Thank you so much again for reaching out and your support! It is much appreciated ♡

Best wishes!!♡

[changeling-droneco]

I posted 10,861 times in 2022

383 posts created (4%)

10,478 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dusty21134

@prismatic-bell

@questbedhead

@tht1person123

@staravya

I tagged 4,478 of my posts in 2022

#ndrv3 - 648 posts

#pokemon - 561 posts

#goodbye despair - 528 posts

#trigger happy havoc - 389 posts

#this has been three am thoughts with changeling-droneco - 310 posts

#yugioh dm - 286 posts

#sonic - 128 posts

#invader zim - 115 posts

#cult of the lamb - 79 posts

#futurama - 77 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#yeah the moment i heard about “’oh there’s 2 million floors and there’s a game and a million different monsters’ i immediately lost interest

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Legends arceus is a coward for not letting me side with volo, like damn bitch you doing all this? Without me? You’re like one of the only people who had my back earlier, let me help you talk with arceus bb, I can text god for you

254 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#4

Man Today’s Trope Talk was good.

269 notes - Posted February 25, 2022

#3

I love when Naegi’s luck comes into play in minor ways, he’ll just grab a random file off a shelf and it’s going to be a classified document on a presidential assassination that won’t be made public for another thirty years and has to endure Togami’s true crime ramblings about it. Incredible stuff.

287 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

#2

I feel like the sanders sides misses out an a lot of hilarious fanfic material by not doing more with the fact that Sanders Sides Thomas really does just, stand there talking to himself for like thirty minutes sometimes. Like could you imagine writing a like, zombie apocalypse fic with Character Thomas and have him just pause and have a sanders sides episode randomly about some completely inane thing?

I just think it’s funny to imagine Character Thomas in like, an apocalypse, and STILL DOING IT, like yeah it’s fun to write the sides as fully realized people and not as sides but the sheer comedy potential in Janus having to deal with keeping Thomas alive in a zombie apocalypse and no Thomas we can’t take a break from sorting supplies because you thought you saw a dog outside, no, no get back here, Thomas the dog probably has like fleas we don’t want to get fleas no Patton we can’t take the dog, no we can’t train the dog into a noble companion in combat Roman and no Remus we aren’t that desperate for food yet-

295 notes - Posted February 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I can never get behind human monokuma designs because that bear is NOT a twink in a suit they are NOT a pretty boy, Monokuma is a 39 year old just divorced ‘functional’ alcoholic with a receding hairline. That is a middle aged disaster who probably wears boomer t-shirts about how terrible kids are and that marriage is a trap. 

314 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[talesofargante]

The Guardian of Trollhunters Episode 7: Part 1 - The Vanishing Bridge

Pairing: Jim Lake Jr. x Liz Walker (OFC)

Episode Summary: Armed with an ancient troll-hunting tool, Jim and Toby set out to unmask the Changelings living among them while Liz confronts Jim about her forgotten childhood past.

Words: 1.2k

Warning: none (if I miss any warnings please lmk)

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

After casting a defensive spell around Heartstone Trollmarket with Douxie all evening, Liz waited until dark before teleporting Vendel, AAARRRGGHH, and Blinky inside the Museum of Arcadia Oaks, which thankfully was empty. Liz quickly went to work on removing security footage of their arrival and disabling the cameras before sending a quick text to Toby, reminding him and Jim to meet up at the museum. History of missed texts was a lesson for Liz not wholly to rely on Jim in responding to his messages, so her best chance of reaching him was through Toby since they were always together. If not, she sends a text through group chat as a backup.

Walking through the museum's east wing, Liz opens a window for the boys to enter since the front entrance is gated shut and heads back to the main corridor where the trolls waited. Vendel wanders around, analyzing hanging artworks and artifacts in glass cases across the hall. A renaissance dress captures Liz's interest, drawing her towards it. As she examines it, she senses Vendel's presence beside her, who also takes an interest in the display. But it seems their opinions differ when Vendel pokes at the dressed mannequin with his staff and comments, "Ridiculous garment."

Blinky scoffs behind Liz, prompting her to speak up. "I find the design exquisite though I pity the women back then who had to wear insufferable corsets beneath layers of fabric. Then again, beauty is pain."

Hearing footsteps nearby, they all turned to see Jim and Toby running up to them.

"You're late," Blinky said simply, staring them down.

"Sorry. Draal was training Jim." Toby explains, then grunts when Jim quickly elbowed him, hoping that his troll trainers wouldn't find out, but it was too late.

"Draal?"

"Training?"

"Hah! About time." Liz said, prompting everyone to turn to her in surprise. She threw her hands in the air. "What? The more help, the merrier."

"Yeah, he sorta made a home in my basement to look out for the place." Jim briefly explains.

"Of course. When a troll is defeated in combat, it's completely natural for them to take refuge in the victor's domicile," Blinky explained. Jim smiled, hopeful. "So, you understand?"

"I understand such an arrangement could only end in disaster. Utter disaster!" Blinky exclaimed. As the conversation dies down, the two trolls impatiently turn to find Vendel standing beside them. "Are we simply waiting here to be discovered? Or were you planning on showing me this thing you believe to be the Killahead Bridge?"

Blinky pats Jim's shoulder, laughing nervously. "The Trollhunter was just about to show us the way."

As Jim leads the group to the Killahead Bridge, he explains the events that led to their discovery, finishing off as he pushes open two wooden doors, entering the closed exhibit. "And as we were chasing away the goblin pack, we ran past this closed exhibit, and there it was." Passing the corridor, Jim opens the curtain to find the same large blanket covering a hidden object that took on the same shape as the Killahead Bridge. "The Killahead Bridge."

The trolls share a gasp as Blinky looks at Vendel, clearly showing the elder troll not to doubt so quickly as Liz crosses her arms over her chest, not wanting to step any closer to the bridge and reveal her magic to Jim and Toby just yet. Both boys grabbed the edges of the large cloth and tried to pull it from the large structure beneath it, but after a bit of struggle, AAARRRGGHH gently moved the two to the side before pulling it off with ease. Jim and Toby's faces dropped as they realized what hid beneath the tarp. Instead of Killahead Bridge, a Viking ship stood in its place.

"W-What?" Liz's arms fell to her side as she stared in shock. Where's the bridge? How were they able to remove it so quickly?

"That is not a bridge," Vendel mumbled, upset that he wasted his time coming into the human world and finding nothing worthy to set his eyes upon.

"But it was right here!" Jim gestured at the spot before turning to his best friend. " You saw it, Tobes. You took a picture of it."

"It was, eh... It was out of focus, and I did forget to turn on the flash. We were running so fast. We were being chased, you know? Maybe we only thought we saw it." Toby explains nervously. Jim watched with a worried face since Toby hadn't backed him up.

Vendel turned and looked at Blinky, who backed up, and Vendel advanced, his large glowing staff coloring the sides of his face, which showed all the angry curves in his stoned face. "Blinkous Galadrigal, I've not left the Heartstone in a century. I only did so tonight because of the grave peril the Killahead Bridge represents. For you to invoke that danger without just cause–"

Blinky crosses his arms. "If Master Jim says it's so–"

Vendel interrupts. "You will be only too quick to believe him. You've never met a conspiracy theory you didn't like."

"I hate conspiracies. That is why I am dedicated to rooting them out."Blinky stated, thrusting his arms out in frustration.

"Like you rooted out the plot to rid Trollmarket of all its cat meat?"

"That was a misunderstanding." Blinky defended, his fists on his hips while Jim and AAARRRGGHH shared a look. Liz sighed, drawing Jim's attention, and gave a quick nod, causing him to look back with his eyebrow raised.

"Precaution is the soul of virtue," Blinky argued, hoping to turn the favor towards him, but Vendel was not convinced. "Everyone in Trollmarket thinks you're paranoid."

"If it's everyone, it must be a conspiracy!" Blinky yelled back, already proving Vendel's point. Vendel sighed and rubbed his hand on his face. "It would seem your pupil is desperate to play the hero, while you are desperate to see danger where none exists. AAARRRGGHH, take me home."

AAARRRGGHH's eyes widened as Liz, Jim and Toby watched with sad remorse. He groans, stepping away, and Toby laughs nervously and heads off as well. Liz, Jim, and Blinky were left, the moonlight enhancing the depressional vibe in the room.

"It was right here," Jim mumbled in defeat, gazing sadly at the large ship. Blinky stepped up to him first before Liz reached them.

"Perhaps Vendel's right. Perhaps I have flooded your imagination with flights of fancy. I blame myself." Blinky mumbled, gazing at the ship disappointingly. Jim looked at Blinky in disbelief. "Not you, Blinky. You have to believe me. I know what I saw."

"He's right, Blink." Liz stands beside Jim, backing him up. "If the proof isn't here, it has to be somewhere."

Blinky sighed, facing Jim and Liz, placing one hand on each of their shoulders, and giving a reassuring smile. "You worry about your studies and training. I'll worry about this."

Hello there!

I hope you enjoyed the first part of Episode 7! If you are interested in reading more, click on the links provided below!

This fanfiction story will be posted on Wattpad, Archive of Our Own, and Tumblr. However, Wattpad will serve as the original site for this story, so the latest updates will be there.

While reading, feel free to leave a comment [keep it negative-free, would you? thanks :)] or critique. I appreciate the feedback. And along the way, if you like the journey so far, leave a star, a kudos, or/and heart to vote! If you have any questions, feel free to ask as well and I’ll do my best to answer without giving any spoilers ;)

Again, thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Happy reading!

- Miss_Nightingale

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[ask-iamnotanalicorn]

Previous: The Flim Flam Timeline

The Wasteland Timeline:

This is the story of when Equestria fell.

And this it the story of when Equestria rose again.

The trials began as they always do: with the return of Nightmare Moon. The celestial sisters clashed, and Celestia fell. Heedless of the struggle it would be to keep the Sun set with its alicorn princess banished inside it, Nightmare Moon did just that, determined that her traitorous sister experience Nightmare’s punishment.

Nightmare’s reign of Equestria was strained, but Equestria could have borne it. But within a year, the capital was attacked by the Changelings, desperate to replenish their stores of pony love that had been stymied by the nation’s state of fear and uncertainty. Nightmare Moon was barely managing to repel the threat when the Crystal Empire returned, and King Sombra began to march on her northern borders. With attacks from within and attacks from without, a distrusted leader on the throne, and economic failure rippling across the country as readily as the shifting front lines, the ponies of Equestria were more torn than ever.

So of course that’s when Discord escaped.

The upside of Discord’s release was that it temporarily stopped the fighting. Even King Sombra was smart enough to withdraw in the face of the mad draconequus on a quest of vengeance against all ponies. Queen Chrysalis and Queen Nightmare Moon (who had absconded herself at first sign of Discord’s escape, using every possible trick to keep him from finding her) formed a temporary peace treaty in order to seek a solution - for a world ruled by Discord was useless to all of them. (Granted, the Changelings could withdraw to their protected realm, but Chrysalis had tasted power and wasn’t about to let Discord have it all. She was quite looking forward to stabbing Nightmare Moon in the back afterwards.)

Their solution: a magical contract with the long-imprisoned centaur, Tirek. Tirek was more than happy to oblige. He single-handedly decimated Sombra’s troops, gorging himself on the magic of Crystal Empire and Equestrian ponies alike. It is possible that, if Discord hadn’t come to see what all the fuss was about himself, Tirek would have kept right on gorging to the very limit of the contract that bound him.

When the two titans clashed, the battle that ensued sundered hundreds of miles of landscape. Canterlot bore the greatest brunt; the castle collapsed completely from its cliffside home, the city little more than ruins. Discord’s attacks spread wildly unpredictable waves of chaos magic across much of Equestria. And when at long last Tirek had defeated him and sucked him dry, the lingering effects of that chaos magic stayed rooted in the ground like weeds.

It seemed, for the briefest moment, as if the worst problem was over. But of course, a power-maddened Tirek is a worse threat - because at least Discord doesn’t go out of his way to destroy everything in sight. Drunk on chaos magic, Tirek easily broke the tenuous contract with the queens and set across the landscape, draining ponies by the thousands and carving swaths through the countryside for the sheer wicked joy of destruction. His power was even mighty enough to destroy the changeling hive, overpowering its magical protections.

There was no choice - the two remaining rulers of any species in the land had to either defeat their own creation or face the loss of all they held dear. Nightmare Moon called upon the power of the Moon itself, drawing it nearer to Equestria in a desperate gambit. Tidal waves rocked Equestria’s coastlines, submerging Manehattan and other coastal cities entirely, and the alicorn of the night shone with deadly moonlit radiance as she bombarded Tirek with the full brunt of her power. But even Nightmare Moon at the height of her power was not strong enough to stop Tirek at the height of his, and he struck her down against the surface of the Moon itself. Some of the dislodged chunks rained down on the world, damaging more of not only Equestria, but many other countries on that side of the planet.

Tirek seemed to have won; all he had left to deal with was one small, angry changeling queen. An assured victory, no doubt.

He could not have known how wrong he was. For a changeling might give its magic willingly to a spell like Tirek’s with no ill effects, but an unwilling changeling queen will not be robbed of her power easily. As Tirek’s powers drain magic, so changeling powers drain love - and no one in all the world had such self-love as Tirek. The cycle of Tirek draining her magic and Chrysalis draining his became a self-consuming spell spiral that ultimately imploded upon itself, taking both creatures with it.

The resulting explosion could be heard across the celestial sea. For a few moments, there was something like an artificial sun on the horizon - a sun that had set directly on Equestria.

Then came the silence. After three years of war, devastation, and disasters unlike any the world had ever seen, there was silence.

And as the silence stretched, the survivors stirred.

Earth ponies, pegasi, unicorns, crystal ponies, and zebras; yaks, cows, goats, donkeys, and buffalo; gryphons, dragons, hippogryphs, minotaurs, and changelings: in spite of everything, many had survived. They rose from their hiding places to find an Equestria and Crystal Empire in ruins. No major cities still stood; borders and coastlines were unrecognizable. Large swaths of land once green and lush were barren and blasted, and spots of chaos magic lay in wait for creatures unwise enough to enter them unprotected. The moon hung wrecked in a dark sky, shining in shattered glory down on the devastation that had been the once-rich land of Equestria.

But the great destroyers were gone. None of the titans and tyrants who had brought this destruction down on the country remained. The usual monsters hardly seemed a threat anymore; those who had survived thus far had learned to cope with far worse. They could build new settlements, make new ways of life, come together or fall apart on their own merits.

And the most hopeful sign of all came the next day. The first actual day since Nightmare Moon returned and the Thousand Days of Woe began:

The Sun - weak and red in the dust-filled sky - slowly rose over the horizon.

The Princess of the Sun had not returned yet; perhaps she is still trapped by her sister’s spell. Perhaps another way of escape is being laid. But the light fills the ponies’ hearts with hope.

The Equestria they knew is gone. But the New Equestria has a future.

____

Sunday, Aug.10, 4 A.C.

Dear Journal,

It’s really strange dating things this way; but with everything that’s happened, most folks agree it’ll be easier to date our calendars starting with the fall of Princess Celestia. ‘After Celestia’ sounds so grim, though; kinda hope we change it. Maybe when the Princess returns... we’re praying she does.

Anyway, I still can’t believe we found a whole stock of blank paper in the storerooms! We’re saving most of it for bartering, but Mom thinks it’s smart for one of us to make notes for posterity, so it looks like I get to keep you. I’ll try to be short to save space, but it just feels so good to write again!

The move into the Canterlot ruins ruins is going pretty well. A few other families joined us after our last trip to Apple Fort, and we’ve shored up our defenses in case the air pirates make another flyby. Pop and I negotiated a deal with the Apples - food in exchange for books. A few of the unicorns know replication spells and are using some of the paper to make copies of really important texts so we don’t lose valuable knowledge to an accident. It still blows my mind how much we’ve lost in... was life really normal only a few years ago? It feels like another lifetime that I was in this very city, talking to the Princess, sitting at a normal cafe... eating lunch with Cam and Press...

I don’t want to forget them. Camera Shy and Pressing Matters, my best friends. Maybe they’re still out there somewhere. We run into old friends every now and then - my old traveling salespony gig has come in handy, actually! I’ve found a bunch of people who used to be clients, it really helps with forming trade and peace treaties with other groups. So it could happen. Please, Prince, keep them safe wherever they are.

I’m really blessed, though. I have to remember that. I have Mom and Pop and Black and Per and Chewie - although I’m still not used to Chewie flying and talking now. She’s such a character. Lots of ponies are missing family - so are we, we haven’t been able to find most of the extended family, but Pop got word from Aunt Pitter that she and my cousin Light Drizzle are out west somewhere, and Pitch Apple is down at Apple Fort, thank the King.

And we could be worse! We made friends with a tinkerer named Steam Punk, he made me a new wing that works as good as my old one! (Not a HUGE bar to cross, but it’s still really impressive!) I’m talking him into working with me to start a production house that can make and sell them affordably to other handicapped pegasi. And Mom got her flight back thanks to a gem Black and some other mages crafted. I think she still misses her diving mark, but she’s so brave and optimistic, it really inspires everyone. I wish we could do something for Pop’s horn, but he’s finding other ways to help out. Per is... well, I guess if you’re going to get turned into a pony-dragon, you’d want to be as cheerful about it as Per. Who knows, maybe she’ll still get a cutie mark someday! And Black is fully aware that he looks pretty boss with an eyepatch, the dork. 

There’s rumors that Princess Cadance might be alive and organizing the crystal ponies up North; lots of ponies are heading that way, but I think our group will stay here. There’s a lot of resources in the Canterlot ruins and in the castle, although Black leads the expeditions into the castle because of safety issues. I never knew he was so good at exploration and such; guess there were a few skills he was holding out on us over the years, but turns out he was working for the Princess before! What in Equus, I gave him such an earful for being all secretive about being my bodyguard or whatever. 

I’m running out of page, so I’ll wrap up today. We’re holding a worship service later, Pop and Parson Brown are setting it up. We want to keep focusing on what we have to be thankful for. We are GOING to get through this. The King, the Prince, and the Advocate have not abandoned us, and we have each other. 

~Salespitch

----

Fun Facts About The Wasteland Timeline:

- This was my favorite timeline to draw =D I HAD to get some steampunk stuff in there, although there are definitely Mad Max vibes. The convenient thing about this timeline is that it was a literal blank slate, so I could really get creative with it! I feel like this would make a neat bookmark, what do ya’ll think?

- I tried to reference all the major villains in the picture. Extra shoutout to ReversalMushroom, the patron who sponsored this Alternate Timeline Special, for giving me the ideas for the changeling goo and Tirek’s hoofprints, which were added in during the coloring phase. I think they round it out quite nicely!

- The random bit of Candy Forest over the crevice there is one of the pockets left behind by Discord’s chaos magic going wild. Most ponies avoid it because here’s WEIRD stuff in there, and ponies who go in there usually come out a little weirder themselves. 

- Black lost his eye and half his sunglasses in a fight with some Changelings. He gets on quite well with only one eye, though, and he insists his sunglass-lens eyepatch is going to be the height of eyepatch fashion. (He DOES have a sense of humor in case anyone doubted it. ;) ) Black taught everyone basic survival techniques and does most of the more dangerous tasks.

- Sales lost his wing during Tirek’s rampage; he tried to distract Tirek, but they didn’t have time to make the plan from the Tirek timeline, so he got swatted pretty quickly. On the upside, Tirek lost sight of him and didn’t get his magic. Sales can fly about as well now with his new steampunk wing, which combines technology and magic to mimic low-level pegasus flight (which was where he was at anyway, so he made a great first test subject!) Sales’ main job is  negotiating peaceful trades with other groups.

- Sales Patter (Dad) lost his horn while pushing his wife out of the way of some falling rubble. He insists he was only mediocre at magic anyway, and he doesn’t need a horn to do business! He does miss it, though. He helps their new community with allocating resources.

- Pitch Forward (Mom) lost her magic and cutie mark to Tirek’s onslaught. The gem in her coat simulates flight for her, although not quite at the level she was before. She and Sales joke about how he can almost beat her in a race now. She helps with the kids in their small community and teaches flying techniques to pegasi.

- Pitch Perfect got hit with a random blast of Discord magic that turned her half dragon. It took a little getting used to, but she honestly thinks it is super neat. She’s pretty good at sniffing out gems now, which (when she isn’t eating them) helps with family finances. Her friends Codebreak and Castle Crasher are part of their little community, and the three are constantly getting into trouble (which most everyone silently thinks of as a nice bit of familiarity.)

- Chewie ALSO got Discord’d; she has fairy wings now and she can talk. Chewie still likes Sales the best and hovers around him chattering like Navi half the time. The other half of the time she forgets she has wings and just hops around exploring. At this point she’s become less like a pet and more like another tiny sister, to Per’s delight and everyone else’s raised anxiety levels. She is VERY aware of her surroundings and alerts the group to intruders and strangers. She really misses computer games.

- Princess Celestia will eventually return, although by that time I feel that the various groups gathering together will have formed something like a decent society again. It remains to be seen if they’ll go back to a monarchy, create a government of connected micronations, or turn into something like the United States.

- And yes, Camera Shy, Pressing Matters, and Press’s husband Curler are all alive. They’ll meet up someday!

---

A/N: Thank you all for joining me on this journey through time and space to explore the seven MLP timelines and where Sales & Co might have ended up in them! I hope you enjoyed it; I had a good bit of fun coming up with the different scenarios, it was a great brain exercise. =D Thank you again to all my Patrons, and to ReversalMushroom for sponsoring this particular special! There will be a final post next week of all the pictures together, with links back to their storyline posts.

I also want to thank you for bearing with me as the regular updates continue to be on hiatus. This has been a rough and strange year for all of us, and I hope you all are safe and healthy and know that you are loved. Jesus has really been with me through this year, and even tonight as I write this; there are things I struggle with, but I know that they do not define my value, HE does. =) And I, like Sales, want to count my blessings, the biggest one (aside from my faith in God) being that I have family around me who love me and care for me. I’m very much looking forward to Christmas! =D  

Merry Christmas! May your Christmas and New Year contain joy and peace, and may Christ Jesus rest His hands on you and draw your heart to His. In Jesus’ Name, amen.

~River Babble

[nightrosebud]

Kisses-17 + Stricklake

Kisses 17 - kisses as a promise

I didn’t know what to do for this at first, but this came to me at 3 this morning (blast you insomnia) so here you go Anon:

Strickler threw in the tenth sweater into the already-full suitcase and tried to close the lid. He cursed under his breath and tried again, finally getting it to click. If anyone were watching him, Walter would seem annoyed but relatively calm. In truth, he was panicking inside and cursing everyone involved with that blasted bridge.

Damn Bular for exposing Strickler to Jim and then dying. Damn Nomura for getting sucked into the Darklands. Damn Otto for retreating to Europe before Bular's corpse had turned entirely to dust. Damn NotEnrique... well, he wasn't even sure how the little changeling ruined everything, but he was confident the little cretin had something to do with how well prepared Jim had been at the battle.

Jim. As much as Strickler hated to admit it, he missed Bular, in a way. The brute kept Jim's focus and away from Strickler, even after Jim found out he was a changeling. Now that the troll prince was dead, the Trollhunter would surely come after Strickler, after Galadrigal convinced him that having a known changeling out and about was a disaster waiting to happen.

So, he was running. Away from Arcadia, from Jim, from the Janus Order. Let them choose another changeling to be the head of the organization. He was no longer willing or able to lead.

Unless... he reached into one of his pockets and wrapped his fingers around something. Maybe there was another way.

The apartment's doorbell went BBzzztttt! and Strickler jumped and yelped. "Steady old man," he murmured to himself. "Jim would not be using a doorbell before bursting in and taking your head off." Did Jim know where he lived? Maybe manners were winning over his bloodlust.

Strickler left the bedroom and strode to the door. He straightened his jacket before leaning to the peephole to see who was visiting him. No. No, it couldn't be. He took the security chain off the door and opened it. "Barbara," he breathed.

"Hey Walt," she said. She had a smile on her face, but something off about her body language told him she was uncomfortable. Her shoulders were a little too high, her back a little too stiff. "I know you're probably getting ready to leave, but just wanted to say bye before you go."

"Don't you work this afternoon?" he asked.

"Well, yes, but I asked if I could go in a little later," she explained while shifting from foot to foot. "For as much as I cover for everyone else, I can ask for a favor once and a while. Can I come in?"

He blinked, realizing that he was being rude. "Yes, of course. Come in." And he held the door a little wider for her.

She stepped into his apartment, looking around at everything. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do with it. Setting fire to it all was an option, but he hated the thought of losing all of his things. She held onto her doctor's coat, holding it in front of her awkwardly. He tried to take it away from her, to put it on the coat hanger, but she shook her head. "I won't be long. I know you have a lot to do before you go."

"Just finished packing," he said. "My plane is leaving tonight."

"Oh," she said. "That was fast. Then I hope you have a safe flight to India."

"Hrm, yes," he said. They fell into silence for several moments. Why was Barbara here? Did Jim send her? To see if Strickler was still here? It didn't make sense.

"Well," she said, starting to wring her hands. "If you have to stay, you know, for a long time, could you let me know. You don't have to keep in touch, like, every day. But it would be nice to hear from you." She took a deep breath and delivered the rest of her statement in a rush. "And if you end up not coming back, that's okay too. Just... please let me know?"

He blinked again, and it finally clicked in his head. She was worried that he wasn't coming back, just like James. He felt something inside of him shift a little. Dating Barbara had been fun, something to get under Jim's skin, but he had to be honest, leaving her would be tough, more challenging than stepping down as leader of the Janus Order. Knowing that she felt the same way, well, it was a pleasant surprise.

"Well, my deceased relative's estate in India was vast. I'm not honestly certain when I will be able to get everything in order to come back to Arcadia." He reached into his pocket and fingered the heavy object. "I even had to give up my job at the high school with no notice. The principle will not be a good reference in the future, I'm afraid." He chuckled, and she gave a small laugh.

"But," he continued, stepping up to her and taking one of her hands. "I will return, Barbara."

"You will?" she asked, eyes wide. 

"Yes," he said. "I, Walter Strickler, vow to return to Arcadia." He held up the hand on holding hers like he was taking an oath. "I promise."

She laughed. "You're making it sound so formal," she said, cheeks heating in a blush.

"How is this then?" he asked, and he cupped her face and kissed her.

They had kissed, maybe once or twice by now, but he tried to give a little more passion to this one. Show Barbara that he was being honest. Perhaps the most candid that he had been in centuries. She moaned into the kiss, and when he leaned back, her cheeks were red. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"You know, I was worried," she said. "We haven't been dating long, and... and I didn't want to put you through a guilt trip for leaving."

"I understand," he said. "I will be back, though. Of that, I am certain. You helped me make that decision, actually."

"Well, do what you feel is right," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Yes, I will," he said. And his hand went to his pocket again, to finger the Inferna Copula.

[cajunquandary]

The One with Red Sky at Morning

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel

Summary: After a difficult hunt, you and the Winchester brothers want nothing more than to rest. As fate would have it, things don’t go so smoothly.

Warnings: Natural disaster, a little flangsty.

WC: 2300

A/N: This was written for @smol-and-grumpy​ “NAT’S SUPERFRIENDS TITLE CHALLENEGE.” My title was “The One with Red Sky at Morning.” I actually wrote several versions of this but settled on this one. A very similar situation happened to me when I was very young, out hunting with my father deep in the woods of South Georgia. All we had was a four-wheeler and a lot of quick prayers. To this day I don’t know how we made it out alive. Enjoy my first writing back from a three-year hiatus! This might get rough. Suggestions welcome!

Also, sorry not sorry, I was feeling giffy~

“Faster!” You yell, a shriek threatening to escape your core.

“C’mon, Baby,” Dean prays through gritted teeth, both feet forcing the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer stops measuring past a hundred and twenty. You gulp as the RPMs reach past the point of no return.

“We’re not gonna make it, Dean,” Sam goes pale, breaths quick and shallow, voice breaking as he spoke his brother’s name.

In the rearview mirror, you can just make out beads of sweat tracing the concern lines on Dean’s forehead, a black abyss behind him. You grab onto Sam from the back seat, burying your face into his flannel. Dean’s string of curses is soon overpowered by the ghostly sounds emanating from the beasts on your tail.

The air is hot and electric, raising every hair on end. When you hear the crack, your blood runs cold.

This must be it, the end.

You stumble sleepily out of the slight motel bathroom and over to the coffee maker. Without so much as peeking, you masterfully load the grounds and water and press the magic button. Oh, how you love that button. Scratchy bedsheets stir behind you, but you pay no attention. A shadow of a smirk creeps across your face. The holy bean water is ready. You take the much-too-small Styrofoam cup with you to sit at the table by the window. Lifting the chalice of your soul to your lips, you inhale as if you’d been starved of oxygen all night. Your eyes gradually open, adjusting easily to the low light of the room. The sweet scent helps to knock the cobwebs from your mind, the warmth radiating from your palms to the depths of your bones.

What a week it’d been. But right now, you don’t want to think of the vamp nest or their victims. Right now, you revel in the tranquility. In the bed near the door, Sam is rubbing the sleep from his eyes, no doubt about to share some coffee with you at the table. On the couch, Dean’s limbs are sprawled in awkward positions, but he still snores gently.

Finally, a smile graces your lips as you watch Dean. He’s so peaceful. There’re no lines on his forehead or forlorn frown below his freckle dusted cheeks. You almost wish he could stay like that forever—at peace. You also wonder what it might be like to touch him, hold him. After the hunt and almost losing him, being more than a few inches away from the man actually hurts. You couldn’t imagine never again seeing those deep, loving eyes, or the way he sings in the car, or dances when he thinks no one is around.

Catching you just before you jump off the deep end into thoughts and memories of Dean, Sam finds his seat next to you. Trying to brush the obvious daydreaming off as nothing, you take a gulp of coffee, only to grimace in pain as it burns all the way down, leaving your upper lip and tongue tingling.

Sam chuckles. “You know it’s hot, right?”

“Yeah, thanks.” And so is something else in the room, you can’t help but to think to yourself.

You set the rude drink upon the table and stand to open the curtains. With a thrust, the stubborn things release and reveal the world outside.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. You stare for a moment just to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. You rub them. You stare a moment more, then rub them again. Red skies morning, sailors take warning.

You look over to Sam, your body rigid.

“What is it, Y/N?”

“Sam, check the weather. Now.”

As if on cue, Dean’s phone is the first to sound the alarm, shortly followed by yours and Sam’s.

“It’s a weather alert—severe storms coming,” Sam stood from the table to look outside as well.

Dean groans from the space behind you, “Well then let’s get a move on.”

You don’t even bother getting dressed, instead throwing one of Dean’s old flannels over your thin t-shirt and leggings. Just like your days in EMS, your boots and pack stand ready next to your bed.

Within a minute, everyone slides into the impala, coffee forgotten. As Dean pulls onto the highway, you and Sam map out the fastest way to get home to the bunker with the least amount of bad weather to drive through, looking for a place to stop for food if possible.

Around two hours in, the drive is going decently well, with only a few patches of hail and heavy rain. You begin to doze off to the comforting lull of the Impala and the Allman Brothers.

Your body betrayed you as it twitched violently. Still on edge after the hunt, you jump from the action, accidentally hitting Dean in the shoulder.

“You good?” He glances quickly in your direction, adjusting his hand on the wheel.

Heart beat loud in your ears, you lean back and return a quiet “yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.”

No rest for the wicked or the hunters, you suppose.

Dean hums along to the music. You are powerless watching the vibration of his neck, wondering what it might be like if your lips were to touch the spot where his pulse rippled the skin. You look down at your phone in an attempt to distract yourself.

Pulling up the weather app, you report the developing spot just up ahead. The brothers take note, then you lean against the window and watch the blur of pine forests and rolling fields. Even overcast, the landscape is breathtaking. You reminisce on your days in the back of the “bus,” what it was like when the tone would drop and in seconds you’d be flying down the road, lights and sirens, mentally preparing for the unknowns waiting for you on the scene. After ten years, there wasn’t much you hadn’t seen. This knowledge and wisdom helped but still couldn’t prepare you when a changeling become your patient.

You catch yourself, not wanting to remember the details of the attack, the ambulance rollover, or the death of your partner. You don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if the Winchester boys hadn’t shone up when they did, or if you’d stayed in that town after the bodies were found.

Wiping an unwelcome tear from the corner of your eye, you refocus on the trees, enjoying their dances under the influence of wind lines.

Until one fell, bending until it snapped, twisting off halfway. Then another, and another.

“Uh, guys?” When had it gotten so dark? You check your phone for the time again. Almost three in the afternoon.

You don’t need to look behind you to know what it is. You don’t get the chance to tell Dean to floor it—he already is. You grip the seat tightly as the car lurches forward, shaking under the speed and the wind force.

It’s as if an invisible giant is stepping down on the forest on both sides of the highway. Oncoming traffic has ceased, some people have already bailed from their cars, seeking scant shelter in the ditches. Leaves and branches now swirl through the sky, littering the road ahead. Dean takes the next exit, not slowing down a bit.

You are so close to the bunker now, but the echoes of the angry titan behind you threaten to devour the Impala before you even have a chance for safety. You hazard a glance behind you.

No more than a mile behind the racing car, the tornado swallows the whole world, preceded by the biggest cloud of debris you’ve ever seen.

“Faster!” You yell, a shriek threatening to escape your core.

“C’mon, Baby,” Dean prays through gritted teeth, both feet forcing the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer stops measuring after a hundred and twenty. You gulp as the RPMs reach past the point of no return.

“We’re not gonna make it, Dean,” Sam goes pale, breaths quick and shallow, voice breaking as he spoke his brother’s name.

In the rearview mirror, you can just make out beads of sweat tracing the concern lines on Dean’s forehead and the rotating black abyss behind him. You grab onto Sam from the back seat, burying your face into his flannel. Dean’s string of curses is soon overpowered by the ghostly sounds emanating from the beasts on your tail.

The air is hot and electric, raising every hair on end. When you hear the crack, your blood runs cold.

You are covered in glass from the back window, the wind sucking the breath from your lungs. Sam reaches over and pulls you into his lap, holding as tightly as your eyes are shut. Dean masterfully swerves in an out, dodging unknown obstacles and navigating winding roads.

You recognize these turns. The bunker!

Castiel is already perched at the edge of the garage when you open your eyes. Still at full speed, Dean swerves the car inside, causing it to slide sideways and leave thick rubber tracks. Castiel struggles against the wind and grabs Dean as he bails from Baby.

“I can’t close it! We have to take cover, now,” Cas yells over the train whistle screams of the tempest.

Not missing a beat, Sam grabs you and doesn’t even pause to set you down. The alarms in the bunker sound off, competing with the storm.

You all finally tumble through the door and slam it locked behind you. You grunt as your ears pop from the pressure change and rub your jaw.

Heavily breathing from the ordeal, the four of you trade nodding glances, indicating that everyone is okay.

You are the first to break the silence, shaking bits of glass from your shirts. “I need a drink.”

Castiel and Sam follow you down the steps, but stop to sit in the war room. Dean trails on your heels, also eager for a drink. You grab the bottle but keep walking, ready to be in your own bed already.

Dean protests. “Hey, you gonna share?”

“Sure, but you’ll have to follow me.”

Once in your room, you take a long draught from the already open bottle of whiskey, then turn and hand it to Dean.

“Close your eyes, Winchester.”

Dean does as told, bottle already suspended at his lips.

You pause for a moment to admire those lips and the way they purse when he swallows. It catches your breath but you turn away, stripping the glass-ridden clothes into a pile on the floor. You curse under your breath as you realize the clothes that other than the ones still in the car, the rest were in the laundry room, several wings down.

You grab a pillow to shield yourself just in time as Dean opens his eyes to see what the matter is. He apologizes quickly and turns away. “What’s wrong?”

“No clothes.”

Without hesitation, he shrugs the shirt from his shoulders and extends it in your direction.

“Thanks.” You are so glad that his eyes are still averted so he can’t see your red face, the blush stretching through your whole body. You quickly slip inside the shirt and bottom it, thankful that it reaches nearly to your knees. You pause at the collar, lifting it to your nose and nearly fall as the heady scent of him fills your senses. Dean, standing now, catches you just in time, closer to you than ever before. His hands rest gently at your sides, and he chuckles sweetly as he leans in to kiss your hair. The whiskey still warming your bones, you wrap your arms around him, interlocking your fingers and burying your face into his bare chest. He pulls you in tighter, squeezing.

The stress of almost losing him on the hunt to that fang and of nearly becoming flying sky trash slowly falls away within the shelter of his embrace. He leans onto the bed and back farther, taking you with him until you’re both under the blankets completely intertwined.

The dim light provided by a small lamp in the corner casts just enough shadow that you can count the freckles dusted on Dean’s cheeks and get lost in the hazel green folds of his eyes. Could this really be happening? Is the hunter you’d be pining for silently for over a year really holding you this closely—in your own bed?

Your breath mixes with his when he leans in even closer and brushes your lips with his. You close your eyes and relish in the warmth and comfort and safety of his arms, the softness and taste of his lips, stubble grazing your chin.

You can still perceive faint sounds of the raging storm outside, but you have no more fear. You pull away slightly to enjoy the sweet smile on Dean’s face until a passing shadow crosses it.

An elated “finally” can be heard near the doorway. Sam winks and closes the door, retreating footsteps resonating down the hall.

A new storm blooms in your core as you surrender yourself to the ease of being so close to Dean. Together, you trade secrets and promises in the intimate moments before slowly falling asleep to the comfort of his voice.

Red skies morning, sailors take warning. Red skies night, sailors delight.

With the red flashes of the bunker floodlights filling the air, you did certainly delight, safe at last. Any wreckage could wait until morning.

TAG LIST:

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @akshi8278 @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby​

*To be added or removed, shoot me a message

[shiftermod]

Gotta be honest, writing all that down really hurt. It hurt in 2020, it hurts now. Dustcatcher was... important to me.

But destroying all of Shifter's friendships and permanently separating him from the love of his life, Dream Catcher, was the only non-reboot way I could think of at the time to force Shifter and Chirp to move to Ponyville, stay there, and never return to Roan Hills; if there was any hope at all of things going back to normal, Shifter would have found a way to return and live with his Precious Precious Snoozy-Poo and my blog would stagnate again. It also gave him a reason, at the time, to never pursue romantic entanglements ever again.

No more romance!

...And then there was a Disaster and I was like "Yes, oh yes, fluffy snuggly-wuggly floofy pegasus cuddles passed out in bed like cats under cozy blankets, oh I have missed this, look at them, they are warm and cozy, oh they are asleep, don't wake them." ;w;

Anyway, the reason I did it, in theory, was to preserve continuity for the other three blogs in case someone (and by "someone" I mean Lucid) ever returned; Night Spinner and Inquiry had a happy ending and Dust was still involved in Night Spinner's story, so in 2020 rebooting still wasn't an option.

If there was no hope whatsoever of any of them returning to Tumblr, or if they had returned but decided to reboot their blogs, I'd have just done a straight-up reboot where Shifter and Chirp had ended up in Ponyville in the first place and never met any of them.

This would then provide options for fresh interactions with those also-rebooted characters later, but I'm not going to tie my blog's fate to theirs the way I did previously.

Interblog friendship? Sure, certainly.

Interblog shipping? Hard nope, I can't do that again because I can't do this again because it hurts.

It really hurts.

And the location of Shifter's home, shop, etc. is Ponyville with the option to visit other locations if necessary because a big part of this mess was being stuck in Roan Hills while most every other blog is in Ponyville or Canterlot.

So, Ponyville it is, and love interests will not be dependent on other people.

I'm starting to think maybe if DC and Inq get rebooted (as rumored might happen) and thus had never met Dust/Shifter (allowing me to reboot instead of writing angst), I think it might be a relief in some ways, because I don't know if I want to imagine what might happen if DC from the timeline where this stuff went down found Dust's shop in Ponyville.

Because in that timeline, I think DC might feel utterly betrayed by this monster, while Shifter's last memory of the real, non-imaginary DC was being attacked by him as he snarled angrily, teeth bared, eyes full of rage.

Starcrossed lovers, victims of circumstance and a failure to communicate.

Maybe they'd argue, maybe they'd fight, maybe they'd just look at each other with regret, maybe they might even forgive one another, I don't know.

Maybe Dust would reveal what he actually looks like—the immense* royal changeling DC disabled at the changeling prison—or maybe Dust would pull the "No Trespassers" sign out from behind his front counter and set it on the counter and wait for his ex to leave.

Maybe he'd close the shop early and they'd just... talk.

I don't know. I'm afraid to know.

*I say "immense" because I've been working out a size chart with Doodle and realized that Shifter's true form may actually be taller than DC. Seriously, he's just... super-tall.