#swap shuffle earth

[atherflame-theconcubus]

Interdimensional names/nicknames

We already talked about this with radiant, but it didn’t really catch up on it much with the others… So I’m gonna do that now

Eclipse: radiant

Lunar: Lune

Sun: Sol

Moon: Frost

Earth: Gia*

Ruin: Nova

Jack: hollow moon/hollow

Solar flare: proto

Blood moon(fused): Orchid*

Bloody (older twin): Canna*

Harvest (younger twin): hibiscus*

Good moon: crescent

KC: Stellar *

Glamrock chica: chickpea

Old eclipse: Araceli/Catalyst 

* Gia is earth’s actual name within swap shuffle. I just called her earth for simplicity sake

* The twins were programmed with this as their interdimensional name. Hence the extreme difference between the rest of the cast, when split, they decided to continue with the flower symbolism names

* the original nicknames for the twins were carnation (the older twin) & amaryllis (the younger twin). Their nicknames got changed due to the symbolism of the original flowers, chosen not fitting their personalities.

* originally on this kill codes, nickname was nebula, and this was posted with nebula as his nickname. I just remembered nebula is already a character in the sun and moon show so I had to change it.

[atherflame-theconcubus]

The first tag is talking about two of my AUs

Booping any version of bloodmoon would be considered danger boops. Boop at your own risk, I cannot guarantee your safety.

[thetriumphantpanda]

I Was Enchanted To Meet You | J. Miller Drabble

Summary | Literally just a Drabble about Joel being an era's tour dad, meeting a pretty girl in cowboy boots and flirting. That's it. It's dumb. This goes out to my girl Doni @morning-star-joy who is going to see Tay-Tay tonight and can now be delulu about meeting Joel Miller there. And also therapy for me because I'm in the UK and got waitlisted for tickets, so CRIES. I wrote this in like an hour so excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

Joel Miller didn't exactly understand when he'd signed up to take Sarah to her first concert. When she'd asked to use his credit card to buy the tickets, he'd just nodded and handed it over. When his bill came through the next month, he almost passed out from the cost. But stood here now, in seats that might very well give him a nosebleed, watching Sarah almost lose her mind over the fact that Taylor Swift was about to appear on stage, it was all forgotten. All Joel ever wanted was for his little girl to be happy.

He'd spent weeks listening to the songs, learning the lyrics so he might be able to sing along with Sarah. He watched her sit in front of the television each night making bracelets to trade, and he squirrelled away as much money as possible so he could buy her a t-shirt or something on the night too.

Joel was watching as Sarah swapped friendship bracelets with two girls to her right when something else caught his eye. Two people shuffling into the two seats that had been vacant in front of Joel and Sarah for most of the night. One of them, around Sarah's age, was almost as excited as his girl, bouncing up and down, looking around the stadium with eyes as wide as saucers, taking it all in, but you? You were something else entirely. You had a white cowboy hat sat on top of your head, not dissimilar to his own apart from the colour and the fact yours was covered in sparkly rhinestones. You had a white dress on, falling to your mid-thigh, made of lace and scalloped edges, and a pair of beat-up old brown leather cowboy boots. The literal picture of heaven on earth as far as he was concerned.

He watched as you pointed to the two seats in front of him and Sarah, motioning for the other girl to sit down so you could hand her the soda you were carrying. He noticed your wrists were covered in the same type of bracelets his daughter had been going wild for all evening. Almost on cue, Sarah leans over, tapping your shoulder.

"You wanna trade?" She asks, holding up her own plastic-laden wrist to show you.

"Hell yeah," You smile, nudging the girl with you, "Why don't you give this little superstar one of yours too?"

Joel watches intently as you let Sarah scan your wrists for the specific bracelet she wants, picking one made of pink beads, swapping it with one of hers that was made of black and gold. Joel had no idea what any of them meant, all he knew was that the bill for friendship bracelet materials on his credit card nearly rivalled the bill for the tickets.

"You want one as well, mister?" Your voice cuts through his thoughts, "Can't come and see Taylor and leave with empty wrists I'm afraid."

"Well, I ain't got anything to trade ya with." Joel shrugs.

"That's okay," you smile, "I'll forgive you, this time."

Joel keeps an eye trained on you as you search your wrists, obviously having something incredibly specific in mind for him. You find it, eyes lighting up as you pull it from your wrist and hand it over to him. He takes the delicate thing in his big palm - red, white and blue beads with letters in hearts that spell out 'Cowboy Like Me'. Very fitting.

"Thanks, Darlin'," He smiles, slipping it over his hand, "You been waiting to find the perfect man to give that to all night?"

You let your head fall back in a laugh and Joel thinks you might just be the prettiest goddamned girl he's ever seen in his life. Sarah is pulling at his wrist so she can see exactly what bracelet you've given her dad, laughing and then leaning forward.

"I made him wear the hat!" She exclaims, "Told him he had to fit in."

"Well, you made a good choice," You grin, "He looks mighty fine in his cowboy hat."

You finally turn your attention back to your companion - judging by your likeness he assumes it must be your little sister. You're pointing out things around the stadium for her to look at, and he can't help but find it endearing how she's bouncing in her seat at every little thing, much like Sarah had done when they'd taken their seats.

Joel feels a nudge to his side, Sarah is looking up at him with that glint he knows and loves so much - she's got an idea.

"She's really pretty, dad."

"Sarah!" He chastises, eye flickering to you to make sure you didn't hear what she'd said, but you look completely oblivious.

"She is though!" She retorts in a hushed whisper, "I think she likes you."

Joel brings a finger to his lips to try and get this devil of a girl to be quiet, but he can't help but indulge her - Sarah was right, you are really pretty, "She don't know the first thing about me," He finishes the conversation, "Now you sit tight, I'm going to find you a soda."

When Joel returns, to drinks in hand, he can see Sarah leant over the seats speaking to you. He dreads to think what she's been trying to cook up, seemingly obsessed with making sure he's not so lonely in life anymore.

"Move over," He asks, Sarah shifting to the seat he was in before he left, "Don't drink it all at once, you'll need it for all the screaming you're gonna do." He says, handing the soda to her.

Once he sits back down, you turn in your chair to speak to him.

"Sarah says you're a builder?" She asks, clearly just trying to make polite conversation with him whilst your sister speaks to Sarah.

"Contractor actually," He shrugs, as if it matters, "But yeah, I build stuff, what do you do?"

"I'm a teacher," You smile, "Teach 4th grade." He's about to ask you another question when every single person in the stadium starts screaming, he thinks by the end of tonight he might actually be deaf, "Well, you enjoy the show, mister, hope you learnt some lyrics."

Contrary to what he'd thought, Joel actually does enjoy the show. He sings along to some of the songs he remembers, dances with Sarah for most of the night and keeps a close eye on you during it all. You know every single word to every single song, just like your little sister and he has to admit that when you're throwing your hands in the air and screaming to the lyrics, he finds you prettier than he had done all night.

When all is said and done at the end of the night, you say a polite goodbye to him and Sarah. When he finally sits in his truck, waiting for the scores of traffic to clear so he can get them home, he kicks himself for not asking for your number, but resigns himself to the fact that it was fate. Meant to meet once and that was it. It's not until he's finally carried Sarah up to bed, fast asleep in his arms and settled down to unwind in front of the TV that he pulls his phone from his pocket and sees a message from an unknown number.

I was enchanted to meet you, Joel. Drinks? Saturday @ 6pm?

[becauseplot]

So. Today's Inktordem. Did I absolutely bite off more than I could chew? Yes. Did it turn out? Kind of! But it's written and NOT past midnight so I'll take it. Also, reminder I swapped days 3 and 5. This will definitely not be the last time I shuffle things around :]

Spoilers for OPD lore! (Not sure about which episode in particular you need to have watched...? I think up through episode 5 is enough but proceed with caution anyway.) Additional TWs for implied/referenced child abuse and implied/referenced critical illness. Let me know if I missed anything! <3

DAY 5 (3) – ORFANATO

1999

Cesar pants as he races up the hill. Running through bushes, stumbling past rocks, dodging trees. Eventually, the slope gets steep enough that the trees fall away, afternoon sun hitting the back of his neck, and Cesar has drop down onto his hands to grab old roots sticking out of the earth for help.

Dirt kicks down. A little ways up, climbing much faster, Bruno has paused to look back at him. He grins. “C’mon!” And he keeps on climbing.

Cesar adjusts his backpack and gives chase. He doesn’t manage to catch up to Bruno, but Bruno is still grinning when he leans over the crest of the hill and offers Cesar a hand up. He scrambles up the last of the incline and stands, spinning around in slow circles.

“Woahhhhhh,” Cesar whispers, taking it all in. “Bruno, this is awesome! You can see everything!”

And you can. There’s the street below, winding around the side of the hill, and Bruno’s bus stop further along it. Down the slope are the houses, the shops, their school at the edge of it; cars weaving between it all like little beetles in the grass, people walking the streets like ants; and far away, towards the setting sun, the forest at the other end of town that sweeps over the distant hills.

“Pretty cool, right?” Bruno says.

“Really cool! How did you find this?”

“I dunno, I just kinda found it. I started looking around in the bushes behind the bus stop, and then I found that trail, and then I kept climbing and—” He throws his arms out, gesturing to the horizons— “I was here! Oh, and…”

He turns and squints against the afternoon sun, shielding his eyes. Suddenly, he points. “There. That’s where I live.”

Cesar comes over and peers over his shoulder, where Bruno is pointing. He shields his eyes with a hand. “…The woods?”

“Yeah. Well, the orphanage is in the woods, obviously. You just can’t see it from here because all the trees are in the way. But it should be riiiight there.” He pauses. He turns a bit. “Or actually, there. Or there. Or—“

He whacks Cesar in the face with his arm. Cesar stumbles back. “Ow!”

“Hey!”

“What the heck!”

“You were in my way!”

They devolve into giggles, Cesar cradling his aching nose, beaming. He happens to look at the bottom of the hill, and he gasps. “Bruno! Your bus!”

Bruno’s eyes go wide. He trots to the edge of the hill, where Cesar is looking. “…Oh.”

“We can run!” Cesar says. He sits down at the edge of the hill to start sliding down the slope. “We can be quick, we can catch it.”

“I don’t think so.”

Cesar looks back. Bruno doesn’t seem happy. “Won’t you get in trouble, or…?”

“Uh…” Bruno tugs at the hems of his hoodie. “It’s probably fine. The Sisters don’t care that much, I’ve been home late before.” Bruno shrugs and gives a small smile. “I like being here more anyway. The rooms get really noisy.”

Bruno comes and plops himself down beside Cesar, shoulders bumping. Though the sun is bright without the shade of the trees, the wind is a hair cooler up here, a breath of relief in the cloying heat of the approaching summer.

“Anyway!” Bruno says. “You know my secret spot now! And no body else does. That means we can come up here and hang out, just the two of us, whenever we want.”

Cesar’s eyes go wide. His chest feels light. “Whenever we want?”

~*~

2002

“So that’s…that’s negative eight, right?”

“No. When you subtract a negative, it becomes positive, remember?”

“Rrrright.” Bruno flips his pencil around and erases his work. The eraser smudges dark across the page, staining it. “Awh, no.”

“Hold on.” Cesar puts his history worksheet down where he’s laid his hoodie out on the grass and plops his pocket calculator on it so it won’t blow away in the breeze. He rummages through his backpack and eventually finds a spare pencil sitting at the bottom of his bag. “Try this one. I don’t think the eraser is dried out.”

“Thanks.” Bruno reaches up from where he’s laid out on his stomach in the grass and takes the pencil. He erases more of the page, cleaner this time. “So that means it’s negative four.”

“Yep.”

“And I have to…divide. To get X by itself.”

“Yep.”

“So uh, negative twelve divided by negative four…” Bruno starts scribbling. “…is negative three.”

Cesar tilts his head to either side, smiling a little. “Ehhh…”

“What do you—OH. Right. Right. Negative divided by negative is positive.” Bruno flops onto his front, face planting into his worksheet. “Why is this so confusing,” he mumbles into the algebra.

“I think you got it, dude.”

Bruno lets out a long groan. Cesar pats his head. Bruno whines and bats Cesar’s hand away like a particularly despondent cat. Cesar giggles.

Bruno lifts his head out of his paper with a deep breath. “Okay.” He picks up his pencil. “Negative twelve divided by negative four is positive three. Which is…” He draws a box around the answer. “…equal to X. And that one’s done.”

“Yeah! See, I think you’re getting it now.”

“Maybe.” Bruno sighs. “Thanks for helping me. I—I really don’t get this stuff, I don’t know why.”

“Of course, it’s all good.” Cesar thinks. “Though… What about the older kids at the orphanage? They must’ve taken this math before.”

Bruno looks away, picking at the grass with a scowl. “None of the older kids ever want to help me. They just call me stupid.”

Cesar frowns, a sudden anger sweeping through him. “What the fuck, that’s not fair!”

Bruno gasps. “Cesar!”

“What? It’s not! You’re smart! I mean, you get all this history stuff a lot better than I do. And you’re really good at chess! And came up with a reason for why we were late so freaking Mrs. Leite didn’t give us another detention.”

Bruno winces. “I mean, I told her you had to help me wash bird poop off the front of my shirt in front of the whole class. And now everyone’s being mean and weird about it.”

“Better than another detention.” And better than the truth, which was that he was panicking and crying behind the boy’s bathroom for the whole of recess just because the cafeteria was a little too crowded today and Bruno was there trying to help him calm down. Forget what Bruno thinks, Cesar feels stupid. “I’m so sick of doing garbage pick-up on the yard.”

Bruno picks up his pencil and spins it around. “Me too…”

Cesar swallows at that. His face gets a little hot. “You don’t have to stay when I get all…you know, panicky. Especially if it’s gonna make you late. I’m fine by myself.”

Bruno stops spinning his pencil. “But then I’d leave you alone?”

“Yeah?”

“Doesn’t that usually make it worse?”

Yes. “I’ll be fine, I mean, it always stops eventually.”

“Or I could stay, and it gets better sooner.” Bruno shrugs. “I don’t really care.”

Cesar hesitates. “But don’t you get in trouble with the Sisters? Or the Father?”

Bruno huffs, dropping his chin into his hands. “Everyone’s always in trouble for some reason. At least I’m not one of the ones getting into fights.” Bruno’s mouth screws up, eyes firmly not meeting Cesar’s. He looks out at the hills below, towards the forest. “Yeah…”

Bruno doesn’t talk an awful lot about what the Sisters and the Father do when they get in trouble, but he’s noticed Bruno sometimes comes to school wincing the day after they’re sent home with a detention slip. Cesar is scared to know what getting into fights would lead to.

When Cesar comes home with a detention slip, his mom just gets worried. She knows why he has it.

“Uh,” says Cesar, voice small. “Sorry. I shouldn’t mention it.”

Bruno just shrugs again.

Cesar’s foot bounces where his ankles are crossed. Then, he uncrosses his legs and slides down onto his front like Bruno, chin rested in his hands. Cesar stares at him. And stares at him. And stares at him.

Bruno, eventually, gets his eyes off that forest and looks at him. Another beat of intense staring, and Bruno makes a confused face. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m just looking.”

They stare at each other, contest.

Cesar blows air in Bruno’s eyes.

“Hey!” Bruno laughs. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking about the homework,” Cesar replies. “Do you wanna keep going?”

“Ehh…” Bruno scratches the back of his neck. “Only if you want to keep helping me. Don’t you have to go home soon?”

“Mom only really cares that I’m back home before it’s dark.” And it’s true. She doesn’t mind when she knows he’s hanging out with Bruno. Cesar takes Bruno’s worksheet and spins it around so he can read it. “So which one are you on now?”

~*~

2005

“…But she kept going on and on about going to the neighbor’s party, so then I just yelled at her to leave me alone and walked out. Went up to my room.”

“I uh, I take it she didn’t like that?”

“Ha, no.”

Bruno huffs a dry laugh from where he sits in the grass beside him. “Jeez. So then what happened?”

“Nothing. I didn’t come down, she didn’t come up. I went to bed and by the time I came down this morning she already left for work.”

“No, dude…”

“Yeah.” Cesar sighs. He keeps his eyes on the clustered city lights, burning bright against the black outline of the forest. “So I guess that’s why I wanted to stay out here tonight. I didn’t want to be sitting at home just…waiting for her to get back, you know?”

Bruno hums.

There’s a silence that follows. The crickets fill it. In the darkness of night, with his closest friend sitting beside him, Cesar finally finds the words.

“I just—I don’t like fighting with my mom. You know that. I feel awful afterwards. And then I start missing my dad, and then I feel even worse. I know—I know she’s just worried that I don’t have a lot of friends because it’s just her and I, you know? A-And I know she’s more stressed than usual because I overheard her talking to Mrs. Couto on the phone yesterday about how they’re doing layoffs at work—“

“Cesar…”

“—and she’s—well she’s newer than a lot of the staff there so there’s a good chance she’ll get cut first like last time…”

Cesar scrubs his hands up and down his face. “Ugh! It’s just shit right now, dude. I hate it.”

Bruno bumps his shoulder lightly. Almost as if on accident. “I’m sorry.”

Cesar sighs. “It’s fine. Thanks. I’m—I don’t know. It’s fine.”

“Is she… Going to be worried about you being out this late?”

“I’ve been out later. She’d guess I’m with you anyhow, so.” Cesar shrugs. “She won’t be worried.”

“…Right,” Bruno drawls after a moment. Cesar looks at him, confused by his tone. Bruno is grinning. “Because we’re so good at keeping out of trouble.”

Cesar gestures sharply at him. “She doesn’t need to know about the bike incident. She doesn’t. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

“Like how you suck at running?”

“Dude.”

Bruno chuckles, hiding his smile behind his hand.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Cesar says, even as a smile pulls at his lips. “She can’t know, because if she does, then she’ll tell Mr. Campos and then we'll be so fucked.”

“Relax, relax, I won’t say anything, I promise. We said to the grave, right?”

“To the grave, Bruno. Or Mr. Campos will actually murder us.”

Cesar stretches his arms out in front of him. He notices that moisture in the night air isn’t quite as dense as usual. With the breeze up here, it’s refreshing. “You know, if I ever, like, smooth things over with my mom, you should come over for lunch again sometime.”

Bruno chuckles. It gives Cesar pause; it’s a sadder sound this time. “I don’t think the Sisters will be letting me out much after this.”

Cesar grimaces. Ah yeah, the Sisters’ curfew. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah. I’ll just have to play extra good for a while, you know?”

No, Cesar…really doesn’t. Cesar leans back on his hands and looks to Bruno. He can’t quite say the question, but…

Bruno gets the idea. He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s…better here than it is back there. The Sisters and the Father have been really weird recently, more strict about random things. Kish says they’re trying to ‘keep appearances’ for Mister Fritz.” Bruno sighs. “Everyone’s more on edge than usual.” He looks down, picking at the grass. “And I’m…”

“…You’re what?” Cesar asks.

Bruno stares at out at the city for a moment. He stares out at the forest beyond it. He hugs his arms around his knees. “…Nothing. It’s nothing. Things are a lot right now, is all.”

Cesar suddenly isn’t sure what to say anymore. He bumps Bruno’s shoulder with his own. Something is just slightly left of everything else. Cesar can hear the wind through the trees.

“I like it up here, though,” murmurs Bruno.

“…I do too.”

Cesar tilts his head back and stares up at the stars in the sky. They can’t see many, not with the glare from the city down below, but a few break through the void, little pinpricks of light.

He looks at Bruno. “Bruno?”

Bruno looks back at him. “Yeah?”

Cesar swallows. “…Do you ever feel like you just—don’t know what to do?”

~*~

2007

First he had to make up that quiz, then Mr. Medina wanted him to run those packets down to the main office, then Marcos stopped him in the hall about fucking math club again—it’s always everything at once, isn’t it? Cesar is huffing by the time he starts to climb the slope, passing his hands over the roots as he darts up.

“Bruno!” he calls ahead. “Sorry I’m late, I swear I…”

But the hilltop is empty. Just the grass and the late afternoon sun. Cesar stands at the edge of the slope heaving for breath, backpack falling off his shoulders, and stares at a little sheet of paper tacked to earth with the sharp end of a bent paperclip. Cesar stoops over and picks it up.

Sorry I missed you. I had to head back to the orphanage. I know you said you wanted to hang out, but you know how it is with curfew. (A short, scribbled-out phrase. “I can’t something.”) Maybe some other time.

—Bruno

It’s the most words Bruno has “spoken” to him in the last several weeks.

Cesar stares at the paper in his hands. He crumples it and throws it at the ground. Then he picks it up and un-crumples it and sits his ass down at the edge of the slope and does not cry about it. And then he goes home.

(Maybe some other time?)

~*~

2009

Cesar climbs the slope, beads of sweat on the back of his neck. It’s easier if you run up the side, let the momentum carry you part of the way, but…he doesn’t feel it today. Everything inside him is shaking, his breath thin.

And yet he climbs, and he sits down in the dewy grass, not giving a damn that it soaks through his pants. And he pulls his legs up to his chest and plants his face on his knees and wraps his arms around his head and tries to breathe.

The doctor’s appointment went awful. The disease has only progressed. His mom will only get sicker as time goes on. They’re looking at treatment options, what could make her healthier before it can get worse, and what could be more effective in the long run; they’re not the same thing.

It’s just the two of them.

It wasn’t always this way.

He wasn’t always this way.

Cesar takes a deep breath and lifts his head. There’s the street below, winding around the side of the hill, and the bus stop further along it. Down the slope are the houses, the shops, his old primary school at the edge of it; the traffic congesting the arteries of the city; and far away, towards the setting sun, the forest at the other end of town.

Cesar tilts his head to the side. There’s smoke coming from somewhere in the forest, staining the afternoon sky an ugly brownish-grey. Probably some dumbass kids and a campfire gone wrong. Cesar lies down on his back, folds his arms over his eyes, and waits for something to feel better.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 11 - Revise

Previous bits here

Um, sorry John…

<insert swirly back in time sound effect here>

🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙

John growled and swiped his organic chemistry notes off his desk. The file sailed over the bed, slammed into the wall and, inevitably, the pages popped out of the binder and fluttered all over the room.

It was useless anyway, he couldn’t focus. None of it was making sense. Chemistry made no sense. His lack of ability to THINK made no sense. Probably because his entire life, right now, made no sense. His scattered notes had more chance of putting themselves back together than his family did. But he couldn’t let himself start thinking about that.

Not now. Not yet.

John had managed to get nearly back on track over the last couple of months, after that first four weeks of agony. He’d have respected the determination, the sheer bloody-mindedness that only John ever came close to taking his title for.

John just had to get through the next 3 weeks then he could… fall apart or whatever.

He clawed at his scalp in an attempt to release the constant tension that was making his eyes hurt and to distract himself from the suspicion he already had fallen apart or whatever.

Everything was… too much. He had so much to do. And 418 hours 47 minutes in which to do it all. So much still to get in his head. Which was way too full of all of the other thoughts he couldn’t compartmentalise properly because apparently he was weak minded and about to throw everything away. And on top of all that, with Dad doing whatever he was doing with the GDF big wigs, John was expected to cook for everyone and look after the kids and generally pick up the slack Virgil had just abandoned for a five day binge of complaining of a headache and creeping around the house muttering nonsense to himself.

John was actually a little worried about that. More than a little. But he forced himself to shut it away. It would be fine… Virgil would be fine. He had to be fine. Just like John did. Was. Fine was the Tracy way. Scott was always…

No. Stop.

Later.

He dug his fingernails into his thighs, bending one of them slightly back on the thick seam of the chinos he’d been wearing for 19.7 days. Nobody had noticed. All the other pants he owned were annoying. So. Whatever.

Scott would have noticed and quietly ordered him a second pair…

His fingertip throbbed angrily.

Argh, this had to stop. None of these thoughts were a good use of time. All of it was irrelevant, except the work.

A tiny voice asked how he could possibly betray his brother’s memory by adding him to that list… he quashed it with a mental fist of steel. He’d want him to do well. He’d always been proud, cheered him on… been sat in the front row between Dad and Virgil and clapping excessively loudly as John reluctantly shuffled red-faced on to the stage at high school prize-giving...

Breathe, John.

He picked up a well thumbed tome on astrophysics… it may be a waste of time - this was easy and didn’t need revision, but he needed to stop these unproductive trains of thought. This was easier to get absorbed in.

Approximately 8.25 minutes later his focus was broken yet again by a scratching noise above him. Aaaaah. Not bats again! Please no, they gave him the creeps but it was illegal to shift the things once they took up residence. He’d have to swap rooms with Virgil. He couldn’t sleep up here if there were…

Hell, they were massive sounding bats…

John flung open the window to peer up into the eaves… Dad had blocked the hole last year so how had they got in there to…

Some sixth sense made him suspicious of the volume of the scrabbling noise overhead and he ducked his head back inside, very narrowly avoiding having his face smashed in by a falling roof tile. Closely followed by… a shoe. A big shoe.

What? It hit the ground with a thud and John squinted down at it. A boot? One of Virgil’s he was sure of it but why on earth…?

A thud overhead, a clatter, a muffled curse in a very familiar baritone and two more tiles slid past his horrified face in quick succession.

Everything in his head went grey and screechy. He rushed from through the house yelling for Dad. Screeching for Dad. It was him screeching. He had no control over his vocal cords anymore, they had short circuited with his amygdala and were bypassing all coherent thought.

There was only panic.

🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙

Thank you to @astranite for helping me voice this one better - I’ve not got inside John’s head much before, at least without EOS for him to bounce off…

[the-violet-galaxy]

What do you do when you have so many AU or fic ideas you want to explore but have no idea where to start, haha

I have TWO (2) swap AUs that are completely different from each other --

One swap AU called "Killswitch", where Sun and Moon's personalities and characters are roughly the same, but SUN was the one with the Killcode instead, aaand just playing around to see how the TSAMS story would have played out from there. Sun-type models and moon-type models switch roles (Eclipse manifested in Moon's head, Lunar and Solar are in entirely different places, characters like Bloodmoon, SolarFlare, and Jack-O-Moon have different names and slightly different personality traits due to swapping to the other celestial type, etc. and so on)

And a more traditional character swap AU, affectionately called "Ruinswap", where everyone's roles are shuffled; Ruin and Earth are closely connected and are one of the focuses

(Which is just funny because I couldn't decide on just one; why not both?)

I have more possible ideas for chapters for "If Ruin Was Never Caught"

Several ideas for "OCs" for variations of TSAMS characters that come from alternate dimensions; and for these I'm really excited but I REALLY have no idea where to start with them, haha

and other various oneshots

There's so much and it's hard to figure out where to begin!

[thewingedbaron]

Owlcatober Day Seven: Lamplight

A bit of a late entry tonight. I love to use these prompts as an excuse to establish little lore tidbits. Who could have sent this late night visitor? What does our Knight Commander have to hide?

This one might have some errors, its very late, but I told myself I was going to do my best to do these every day, so here we are. I hope you enjoy the results of diving way too deep into Pathfinder's lore to creatre character backstory :)

A Knife In the Dark (1,052 words)

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Warnings: Violence

Read here under the cut, or on Ao3 :)

Camp was always quiet this time of night. Some crusaders still moved between tens, swapping stories, sharing unapproved bottles of booze, or gambling away the hours with decks and dice. Out on the perimeter, the sentries walked their rounds until their feet kicked up the grass and left a bare path in the earth somewhere between their fiftieth and hundredth pass.

Light spilled across the grass from the Knight Commander’s tent. It seemed like the lamps were always lit, no matter the time of night. The general staff and their aids came and went, dropping off reports, checking the large map of the World Wound that lay perpetually pinned to the grand table in the center of the space. Vysk rubbed her weary eyes, holding off sleep for just a little longer as she poured over the day’s reports. Supplies were down, tensions were high. The crusaders were apprehensive about the final run to Drezen, but for now, their faith in the Gods and their Commander held. There were no desertions to be reported tonight. Small blessings, she supposed. 

“How did we end up here?” Vysk wondered aloud, shuffling the same stack of reports around the table. “From pirates to demons huh?” 

In the corner of the tent, a mass of feathers and fur shifted in acknowledgement of her words. A single eye reflected the low lamplight as Jester fixed her with a concerned glance, cooing softly. 

“I’ll sleep soon.” Vysk smiled, suppressing a yawn. “Just one more stack of scouting reports to get through and I swear…” her voice trailing as the yawn won her over. 

Across the tent, Jester stood, ruffling his feathers out like a cat. He slowly unfurled his wings, nearly touching the sides of the tent as he stretched. Vysk grinned at her hippogriff, her oldest friend. 

“Go back to sleep buds.” She whispered. “Just because I have to be subjected to a tide of paperwork doesn’t mean you need to suffer with me.” 

Jester cooed softly, cocking his head as he took in the sounds of the night. Vysk watched him for a long moment, an amused smile on her lips. Exhaustion tugged at her eyelids. Perhaps that was the reason she nearly missed Jester’s alert. 

The hippogriff stiffened, hooked talons gripping the earth beneath him as if ready to launch himself forward as his head snapped to the back of the tent. A long tear had appeared in the cloth, silently ripping its way down the wall just behind the Knight Commander. Following Jester’s gaze, Vysk threw herself forward, hands automatically reaching for the axes on her waist. She could feel the air on her back as a dagger flashed, mere inches from her flesh. 

Stepping through the rip was a spindly figure. Their body was wrapped in tight leather armor, stained as dark as shadow with a single red sash braided into the gauntlets. Their head and face were concealed behind a black mask that covered all but their eyes, which gleamed with anger. Vysk didn’t stop to consider the implications of the assassin’s presence as she launched into action, unclipping and hurdling an ax at her attacker with one smooth movement. To her surprise, the assassin simply ducked under the projectile and launched themselves at her with reckless abandon. The blow might have landed, were it not for the fully grown hippogriff that shoulder checked the stranger mid air, sending them flying across the tent. 

The ax reappeared on Vysk’s belt in the same moment that the assassin rolled, smoothly regaining their feet. For a moment, they both stood frozen, each sizing the other up, waiting for the next move in the dance. A blur of feathers shot past Vysk as Jester flashed past, beak open in a scream of rage. The assassin dipped under the hippogriff’s gnashing beak, slamming their dagger home into the creature’s shoulder. Jester took the blow without comment, instead using his momentum to carry him into his opponent, knocking them clear of their feet. As they fell, they tried to roll again, coming up right into the path of Vysk’s ax.

There was nowhere to go. With a sickening crunch, the ax buried itself into the assassin’s neck, dropping them on the spot. The entire encounter had lasted little more than six seconds from the first blow to the last. Even then, Vysk collapsed into a nearby chair, hand pressed against her chest as adrenaline surged through her body. Her backside had hardly hit the chair before she was buried in a mound of feathers and fur.

“I’m okay buds,” She rasped. “I’m okay. Let me see that shoulder alright?”

“Knight Commander!” The half armored form of Irabeth surged into her tent, sword drawn. “We heard a commotion. Is everything alright?” 

Vysk waved her off. “There was an attack. I’m okay.” She said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “My attacker however.” 

Irabeth’s eyes landed on the body, slowly seeping blood onto the ground. She nodded. “I am glad you are unharmed. Anviea is performing a sweep of the camp, I will remain here until we are certain there are no more.”

“Thank you.” 

Irabeth nodded, stalking over to the body, sword still drawn. The frown on her face only grew deeper as she leaned over it. 

“This is no cultist. I do not recognize these markings, unless it is a sect we have not seen before.” 

“I doubt it.” Vysk replied, forcing herself to stand. She carefully picked her way over to the body, grimacing at the odd angle of the broken neck and scattered limbs. Irabeth pulled back the assassin’s mask, revealing the face of a young human woman with short cropped hair. Vysk leaned closer, slowly unthreading the red sash from one of the woman’s gauntlets. As she suspected, it held a small icon of a crown and anchor, etched in gold. 

“It seems even here, at the end of the world, I cannot escape the Red Queen’s assassins.” She muttered. Irabeth gave her a concerned glance. 

“Commander?” 

Vysk waved her off. “I’m sorry, Captain. I have not been the most forthcoming with you, I hope that you can forgive me for that. Would you be so kind as to summon your darling wife and my advisors? It’s time I told you about my home.”

[masterqwertster]

Hurt/comfort spell prompts: 14 or 18. Ashton & Bells Hells. Please and thank you.

14 Detect Thoughts Went with a little bodyswap snippet since it was "Ashton & Bells Hells" for the prompt, and Imogen's Open Mind ability is free Detect Thoughts.

Ashton knows it’s a dumb idea, but they’re itching to try it, to know.

After all, he’s never going to have another shot at this. Bells Hells is determined to undo the magic that swapped his and Imogen’s minds or bodies or however you want to define it. And he’s so fucking curious about how the pain of hearing other people’s thoughts stacks up against his own broken body. What is it even like to hear (involuntarily, mostly) how other people view the world and navigate it?

They’ve done dumber shit. They’ve done much more dangerous dumb shit. All Imogen gets from not controlling her mindreading shit is headaches, and Ashton runs the uncontrolled risk of those daily, what with the giant fucking hole in their head.

Besides, Ashton is going to be smart about this. The plan is thus: pretend to be asleep and wait until everyone but whoever is on first watch to fall asleep, then quietly shuffle off Imogen’s circlet so there’s the least amount of active thoughts when he tries this. It’s probably not even going to be all that difficult to sneak the circlet off for a bit, seeing as Laudna is still clinging to Imogen the person, not Imogen the body. 

(Honestly, he’s a bit amazed, if unsurprised, that Imogen hasn’t snapped about all the touching Laudna is doing. She’s certainly not letting anyone else spark that pain)

So Ashton waits, and when they’re pretty sure everyone is asleep except Chetney, whittling away as he takes first watch, they make their move.

“What’re you doing?” Chetney asks, barely looking up from his project as Ashton’s Imogen hands slip from under their blanket towards the circlet.

They quietly curse that they don’t know how to fucking move right in Imogen’s body, can’t even use their sneaking magic because hers is all wrong for it, to sneak such a little act past the old gnome.

“Well? Speak up,” Chetney presses.

“...I …I wanted to see what it’s like. Her mind shit,” Ashton says, voice softer and higher because it’s not his. At least his voice isn’t forced into her accent (though it’s weird as fuck to hear his own voice speak like that).

“You could try just reading one mind, instead of trying to hear everyone’s thoughts,” Chetney points out, giving them a stern glare.

“I don’t know how to do that. ‘Sides, it’s just a headache if I fuck it up. And you’re the only one actively thinking anything right now. Everyone else is asleep, maybe dreaming,” Ashton explains his reasoning. “I’ll put the circlet back on in a minute.”

Chetney gives them a heavy, considering look. Obviously poking for any other potential disasters that would make interference with their plan a necessity.

“...Fine. But you be real careful about this, ya hear?” Chetney finally assents, waggling a chisel at them.

Ashton nods (ignores the lilac hair that swishes in and out of view with the motion).

He takes a breath, settles, focuses. Like when Ashton does that meditative reaching for the earth shit that he’s still trying to figure out.

Then Ashton takes off the circlet.

A quiet murmur comes to ears that aren’t, much the same as when Imogen and FCG press into their mind to speak. It’s a little prickly, a little staticy, in that way that the beginnings of a sensory overload can be. But it doesn’t get any worse than that. Pretty manageable if you ask them.

(Yes, Ashton knows it’s only a few minds, specifically at a time when they’re not thinking loud thoughts. But he’s also had some bad sensory days with little option but to push through and make it work. At least isolation would help with this, unlike the pain that lives in his body)

They let the prickly little thoughts wash over them, breathe, adjust. Once they feel settled and sure, they focus, try to actually comprehend the not-sounds they’re hearing.

It’s mostly little flashes of emotion, of colors, from the sleeping minds around him. Joy, sadness, a little fear, exhilaration. Greens, blues, reds, oranges, browns. Just brief glimpses of dreams in progress that scratch like sand on the wind. 

And a grumbling watchfulness from Chetney that insistently pokes at their brain.

Probably shouldn’t be letting them poke this. But he did think the risks through this time. And it’s definitely lower stakes. Still dumb. Sometimes you gotta let the kids get the dumb out. Hopefully in a minimally harmful way.

The gnome’s thoughts aren’t flattering, but Ashton didn’t expect them to be. Watching and wary, which makes sense given the enormous risk they once took without talking to the group. They’ve learned their lesson though.

Satisfied with trying out Imogen’s abilities, Ashton places the circlet back on his head. The psychic sound cuts out almost instantly, that bit of pain vanished with it.

“You okay?” Chetney asks.

“Yeah. It was… interesting,” Ashton replies, thoughtful.

“Good. Now go the fuck to sleep and no more fucking around with Imogen’s shit.”

Ashton flips the werewolf off even as they curl into their blankets, eyes drifting shut.

I actually rolled for this. Ashton failed their Slight of Hand check with an 11 (9+ Imogen's +2 modifier) vs Chet's Passive Perception of 16 (so Ashton would have failed even with their +7 modifier). And then for the Open Mind Wisdom Saving roll, which was a DC 14 (8+ 6 people in range) and he rolled a 20 (19+ 1 WIS).

[el1-z4]

To balance out the universe I finally got round to drawing these steampunk lesbians.

Specifically, Edith and Amelia - who've been dating for about 5 years now.

Edith is a locksmith by trade, but has a knack for making things that hopefully dont explode. She comes from a loooong heritage of victorian* inventors and scientists, meaning she grew up with huge expectations from her family. However as she got older, she began slowly distancing herself from her family due to these expectations, finding work and accommodation on the outskirts of West Hameshire.

*Victorian refers to the planet of Victoric, an incredibly old and highly culturally conservative system. This is still Arcania lol

Amelia, however, has a much, much more interesting history. The Faxiath Coalition, in recent years, has been experimenting with dimensional rift technology in order to probe the physics and workings of alternate realities. In one incident, they opened a small gateway between the lab on Ilquar and an alternate version of Earth - year 2034. This earth saw many major 20th century powers have their ideologies swapped; the EU leading the modern world in alliance with the United States of Ataria - up against the formerly communist American Federation.

Amelia, born in 2005 was born in Lyon, France, to her Scottish/French parents. She spent a good amount of her life in both countries, but eventually moved permanently to Berlin when she was 23. However, when she was 28, one morning she walked putside to find the fabric of reality around her collapsing.

In an instant, it felt like every part of her was on fire as she was flashbanged by a bright white/violet light. Just as suddenly she found herself on a precariously balanced platform at the center of what looked like a giant particle collider; scientists racing behind windows around her. Before she knew it, someone over the PA, speaking what she could only decipher as German dialect with a strange accent, asked her who she was and if she was alright. She could sort of understand it, but she could only nod or shake her head to whatever questions they asked her.

Finally, someone walked over a catwalk and outstretched an arm to her. She was pulled over by the wrist and shuffled into one of the side offices. The scientists knew they fucked up - and it was no better that the gateway was basically permanently shut.

She was given a warm drink by one of the lead scientists, and they started asking her questions once again. Her first words were, in German, "My german isnt very good... do you speak french or english..?" thinking full well she was just inside some lab still in europe, except with weird symbols on the walls and dials. Alas, she wasnt. The scientist, asked her if she spoke Atlantean or Basic - and she returned a confused look. She guessed basic and the scientist started speaking in what she knew as english. The scientist, realizing whats gone on, broke the unfortunate news to her.

Everything and everyone she knew was gone. She was in an entirely different universe with no statistically possible way home. Amelia was incredibly distraught - feeling like she was just in some kind of bad dream or that it was all an elaborate prank. But, that came crashing down the longer the scientist kept talking. Strangely enough she didnt cry at all; I don't think she knew how to interpret anything at the moment.

She spent the next few days at the lab, slowly trying to come to terms with her new situation. After a while, she was approached by another scientist who told her she couldnt stay for much longer, but they could relocate her to another planet. She was both nervous and excited at the possibility of being in space, let alone travelling to another planet - though I guess she's already on one of those.

She was relocated to victoric, as the scientists felt it best for her to go somewhere that would guarantee her safety from the news and, more importantly, somewhere they felt would feel a little more homely - technology wise. Amelia felt, admittedly, a little insulted that they thought the closest match to her time was electricity-less steampunkery, but she felt like it'd do.

Fast forward a few months, and shes living/working in a bed and breakfast outside of West Hameshire. She's getting on rather nicely, even if the trauma of reality occasionally creeps back up on her in horrific panic attacks. Except one day, this locksmith came over, whos apparently quite a regular -fixing the doors on the rooms, and goddamn she was pretty.

Anyways yeah its pretty easy to say where they went from there. They started going out about two weeks after first meeting - and they've been inseparable ever since.

As of present day, Amelia moved out of the Bed and Breakfast and moved in with Edith - though she still works there. They're really quite comfortable with where they are in life, with aspirations to see the galaxies and everything in it (Amelia's really interested in visiting the Lordean system, as well as Atlatic). Edith on the other hand, is much more interested in finally asking Amelia to marry her... if she could ever work up the impossible levels of confidence needed for it.

[goingferalapparently]

canon vld has the lion swap. this group plays the lion shuffle every single day as they try to figure it out.

except for etoiles of course - caring, kind, putting needs of others before his own, mighty heart, will lift the team up and hold them together as the left leg of voltron - he's perfect for the yellow lion, and yellow has already chosen.

jaiden may or may not have pulled some information out of a databank and started reading off the characteristics. look, it's the best they've got while roier tries to learn to identify quintessence and match it with the humans, okay? (quintessence is, unfortunately, not roier's strength. he's also learning about it from the databanks - which are good, but skills are always hard to learn from just reading, you know?)

but even the databank of lion pilot characteristics doesn't help them too much.

figuring out the decisive head of voltron is horrible (the black lion, born leader, in control, men will follow without hesitation) because it's supposed to be decisive but all of them are leaders in their own way, taking charge and solving disputes and altogether just.. being leaders.

if the black lion is bad, then the red lion is almost worse, because no one seems to wear instinct over skill, spur-of-the-moment decisions, or the specific balance of patience and stubbornness needed to work with red's temperament. it doesn't help that there's no clear leader, and so no clear right-hand man for the leader.

baghera fits right at home in the green lion ("Inquisitive... Uh, intelligent? Daring-" Jaiden pauses, squinting at the words for a little too long. "I think the Castleship's databanks have been corrupted by something."), but cellbit, too, fits in there nicely.

and the blue lion, jaiden reads out slowly, parsing through corrupted data. the blue lion holds the team together and provides what's needed at the time. which is, of course, absolutely no help at all, because what they need is a complete voltron.

so, really, all they have narrowed it down to is "forever is probably not the pilot for the green lion"

("Are we even sure they're all meant to be paladins?" Jaiden asks one day, even though they both know the answer to that. Roier laughs and goes back to meditating upon the quintessence like he has been for the past phoeb.)

either way, they go through the training exercises, learn how to use weaponry, and all the other things needed to prepare for war. etoiles learns how to fly a spaceship, which is very important because yellow is the only lion available and the only spaceship that can retrieve the other lions (because the lions are heavy, okay??)

the green lion is found first, pieced together from the last communication pings from 10000 decaphoebs ago. green is on a forest-like planet, buried under a pyramid, and they apologise to the natives at every step when yellow has to deconstruct the monument hiding green.

the blue lion is found next, buried under layers and layers of sand and plant life in an ocean planet. it was very, very troublesome to work through.

getting the red lion (lost to the empire) is too much of a risk, they all decide, after seeing how yellow struggled to get the other two lions.

and because they can't get red, the doors to black remain sealed shut.

they are also still one paladin short. the humans raise the possibility of finding someone else (from earth, please). the alteans say that the lions must have had a plan in mind when yellow brought 4 humans and only 4 to the castleship.

once they get green and blue, they essentially go through the equivalent of throwing paladins at the two lions that they do have and hoping that one will stick. green chooses baghera. blue remains stubbornly unyielding to either cellbit or forever. ("Maybe Forever?" Jaiden asks Blue. "Cellbit doesn't quite feel right for you." Blue does not quite agree, but gives an approving purr.)

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Hypothetical:

If you were to take your OC/CC couples and shuffle them around, who would be the crack pair? Who would be the obvious enemies to lovers pairing? And who would be the surprisingly lovey dovey pair?

TK!! Welcome welcome!!

Let me offer you some breakfast!!

NOW. ONTO YOUR ASK.

This is truly an interesting question, that actually gave me pause to think! 🤔🤔🤔🤔

Let me give you my insight!

Crack Pairing

I actually have two! One is Jacob/Antoine and the other is Arno/Dorothea. Like, in Jacob and Antoine's case, I just imagine that he would get SO MUCH on her nerves with his shenanigans, she would just push him in the Seine and not even turn back, if she didn't try to strangle him first. Like, his charm would be completely wasted on her because she is definitely not that impressionable, and I think he would not like the cold, unrelenting, scheming side of her personality and character She would be too stiff, too unforgiving for him to actually like her. So I see them mostly being at each other's throats. As for Arno and Dorothea, I just do not see them as a couple at all, like 0 attraction to one another (also, tbh, I am a fervent believer that Arno prefers brunettes over blondes). At most they could be the type of friends that swap wardrobe and be there for each other, platonical in all the way, but a couple?? NAH. NEVER. Like, I just cannot see them together at all. No chemistry at all.

Enemies to Lovers

mmmm this one was tricky, to be honest. Like the only one that are canonically enemies to lover are Jacob and Dottie, in virtue of the sides they both are on. But if I were to shuffle all my pairings and find another Enemies to Lovers couple, that would probably be Shay and Antoine: like, fiercest couple could never grace the Earth, because dear gods, those two are truly two bastards that have found one another and that UNDERSTAND one another but are on the opposite side of a war that neither can hope to win, and both are too stubborn to relent.Basically it's "Enemy Mine" type of situation, and omg the fact that they would hunt each other down and make that their life's purpose (plus Antoine, apparently, truly fancies men that are older than her and this speaks volumes about the crapton of daddy issues she has) (also, wtf, TK, what have you done, you have managed to instigate my crickets and now they are all going crazy over this idea, oh dear Gods, I need to explore it around.).

Lovey Dovey Pair

Omg this one actually gave me pause, but one lovey-dovey pair would be Colette and Ezio. Like, those two together strike me as a couple that would go full-on "lovey-dovey", with their passion, lust for life (and not only life), so intensely in love with one another that they would be the desperation of Federico, Mathias, and Antoine (like, seriously. Antoine would drag Mathias with her on Florence's rooftops and give a run to the guards that are also looking for Ezio. Like, if Antoine had a problem with Arno and kept him "in check", never to ever destroy her sister's heart, with Ezio it would be 10 times worse.

thank you for bringing this question to me, it was DEFINITELY intriguing and lots of fun to think about.

--Nemo

[atherflame-theconcubus]

Ok, so I’ve had multiple sun and moon show, alternate universes rolling through my head, but one that’s recently just been rotting in my brain is my own take on a swap au that I’ve been calling swap shuffle.

It has a pretty similar plot line to the sun and moon show, however, there’s some important differences stemming from the fact that eclipse managed to figure out, alternate universes exist via finding out about the canon show. He struggled to catch up with the whole show, but he managed to, this leads to certain events playing out differently, such as they’re being a much shorter time with the timeout box & eclipse telling lunar in a panic that if they leave sun alone, there is a high likelihood that moon is going to kill sun (it’s still happens, but lunar eclipse get there, just after it happens)

I’m currently gonna go over who takes whose place within this universe, because while not, everyone has been figured out, yet, a good amount have

Eclipse takes moon’s place, & while not being the best brother, he does try to make it up to lunar. The fact he has seen the cannon show has allowed him to avoid a few mistakes (such as not telling lunar about the bit of kill code earlier on) but also leads to new issues & changes certain situations (Sun being blown up).

Lunar takes sun’s place in the au, he’s still short, but he’s much taller than he’s ever been in the show. They also has a tendency to not fully listen/take things seriously (how the moon situation got as bad as it had). Their July 16th happened on November 16th, so lunar usually gets very quiet on the days leading up to the anniversary of a massacre.

Sun takes lunar’s place, & has had a few panic attacks remembering October, though he usually gets help getting through these ptsd induced episodes thanks to his family. For a while Sun had the same issue lunar had of putting his trauma on a pedestal, though that was before he jumped universes. He managed to meet some alternate versions of others that (in sun’s words) “suffered more than I have”

Moon takes eclipse’s place, & he’s a bit more toned down than eclipse. He does attempt to have his abuse towards his younger brother be much more subtle (the best way I can describe. It is a lot of praise that slowly becomes less and less) which slowly turned more physical over the course of their takeover. Moon is also responsible for the creation of Ruin, who was finished on November 15th, & activated the next day

Jack-o-moon & solar flare swap places, I don’t have much to say about them yet though. I’m still working everything out for them

Chica takes Monty’s place, though she’s not really into scamming. She does run a fitness program that she swears by though. She’s one of the smartest animatronics in the plex (behind eclipse by a while) but she’s way too trusting & empathetic for her own good, even when her gut tells her otherwise.

(I don’t really know much about the other shows, but Monty takes Chica’s place, Roxanne and Freddie swap places, along with foxy & glamrock bonnie)

(Update: in lew of a recent realization, the puppet and golden Freddy are being swapped. I genuinely thought both of them were gods. Only one is.)

Old eclipse takes Nexus's place. I’m still figuring out everything for him, but during Eclipse's spiral, old eclipse woke up & was immediately hit with whatever dark lunar put in them, essentially sacrificing himself to keep everyone safe as his last act of self. once under the new code, he starts trying to forcibly take control, ending with Golden Freddy using magic to separate the two & launch Old Eclipse into space. it was at that moment that the Old Eclipse was forever lost to the violent code.

Shuffle time!

Earth takes the place of kc, & she takes a more manipulative mother approach to her two sons when she claims them, not playing favorites, though she does have one. When she was in eclipse’s mindscape, she made it look like an overgrown meadow, using vines to freak eclipse & sun out. While she does eventually agree to a life of peace, it didn’t change her general behaviors and thoughts about ruin & moon, with her actively making it difficult for lunar & eclipse to figure out Commet powers. As well as making her death more realistic

Ruin takes the place of bloodmoon, though he lacks a twin. He generally is unhinged, but ironically hates killing, calling it a chore. He developed his sadistic nature with his hunting to make it entertaining for him, as he’d rather toy with others than kill them (he has a bloodlust, but he despises the taste of blood) when revived by kc, he knew something was off, but played along. Unlike the cannon blood twins, ruin regrets November 16th, stating that he didn’t enjoy the screams of the children while they were dying, & that the children were too weak.

KC takes ruin’s place, & though I don’t have much of an idea for him yet, at least, while infected, I do know that him uninfected is much nicer than he was while infected, though he still isn’t really friendly. He does wish to try fixing his relationship with ruin, as infected KC viewed him as a tool which cured KC thinks theirs a lot more that everyone is missing.

The blood twins take the place of earth, and while they are neutral, they do have their biases, which leads to some disagreement between them & others. The twins are really calm, with the younger twin being extremely calm. An interesting thing is that the creator of this universe only intended for the older twin to exist, but conditions were just right that bloody & harvest developed as two sentient ai, with harvest hiding his existence as he wasn’t supposed too exist. Bloody is closer to eclipse while harvest is closer to lunar.

Francis and Frank are swapped. I don’t know much about these two in Cannon so it’ll be fun to work with them

I’ll go over others like good moon at a later date as this post is getting long, so here’s some fun facts.

Lunar is the eldest brother in the daycare family, with harvest being the youngest

Harvest & Chica end up having a romantic relationship that’s more of a slow burn figuring things out than cannon Monty x earth.

Eclipse helps bloody realize he’s aroace.

Sun has a plushie empire & hyperfixates on them

Ruin has a tea adiction, even if his systems force him to throw it up if it doesn’t have blood in it (90% of the time it’s blood free)

Eclipse has anger issues he’s been seeing a therapist for

Bloody & harvest are more like emotional support dogs than therapist siblings.

Bloody & harvest have their own unique hairstyles (harvest’s is a long braid while bloody’s is a shoulder bob). when combined both hairstyles are visible at once

In the lord moon universe, sun is held captive in a tower, earth has grown to actually regret her parenting decisions & genuinely misses ruin (she’s the landscaper) & jack is the bitter gaurd. Eclipse and a group of citizens & survivors from moon grabbing the commet are planning a rebellion against moon. Lunar is the servant their

Earth subtly favored moon over ruin, as he was the one to activate her. That & ruins hatred of killing pushed moon into her favorites, though she never openly showed it

KC has been caught trying to fix the balloon world arcade cabinet, and only the balloon world arcade cabinet

Eclipse usually uses the nickname radiant when traveling universes. He doesn’t know why, but he assumes it’s because he likes the sound of it.

Sun isn’t resurrected with Commet powers, but he does teach himself magic for defense was resurrected by puppet, who’s now training him

Old eclipse changes his name to Araceli

Araceli's last moment he was himself was during endgame, where Eclipse was begging Chickpea & golden to do something to stop him

[nero-draco]

Anyway LB7 isn't too difficult, I can think maybe two - three fights that can be a hurdle. Particularly the last one.

Though its also worth mentioning that you can't use command seals in this story (due to certain reason). You can still use the blue box thing though.

Its not what I find difficult but I want to mention one fight that can be annoying.

Kingprotea (alter? Idk) boss fight. She herself isn't difficult, but what annoying is that she shuffle your party everytime you break her bar. That said her HP per bar is only around 100~200k so not too difficult.

1. Now for the tough fight. One of them is Benienma Alter. Her main gimmick is that she has random chance instant killing your unit per her attack. The rate seems rather high based on my experience. Skadi would be quite helpful with instant death protection...if you have her that is. Yes this is one of those fight where support is locked.

The support that you can pick are either U Olga or Habetrot. Beni Alter is Saber class so neither have advantage here (U Olga has been neutral to a lot Class so far, including berserker). They're also locked to first position in party screen.

Now, U Olga can't use NP, and her cards are BAAAQ, meaning she isn't a good DPS for now. Her Quick card can generates plenty stars but that's about it. Her only utility is good support skill. Such as applying NP seal and burn, and her third skill which gives partywide invul pierce, NP gain buff, buster buff, and crit buff.

In regards to this fight though, I feel like Habetrot might be better pick if only for the fact she has exit herself out allowing you to save up plugsuit command.

Anyway back to the fight, Beni Alter has instant death to her attacks, and breaking her first bar will cause her to fully charge her bar. Her NP isn't shown as she only she has charge attack that hits all your unit. Its possible to tank it without invul but your party will be left in terrible state, also the instant death gimmick might still apply in the attack.

I don't have Skadi so my strat is to use two DPS while also burst it quickly.

Chiron can deal good damage against Beni due to his Anti Earth NP.

2. Second tough fight is Tlaloc. Her gimmick is that she will stun all non-floating unit every turn. The floating servant are those who, well, can float, such as Arjuna Alter, Space Ishtar, etc. So they are good for this fight.

Other way to deal it is with having Support Nemo in frontline. Note that if Nemo isn't in frontline (either dies or you swap him out) then your units will be vulnerable to stun again. Worth mentioning that Tlaloc tends to attack Nemo a lot.

So the strats is either, 1) Bring Nemo in frontline and protect him, or 2) Use floating servants only.

Its worth nothing that Tlaloc is Ruler class with quite decent pool of HP (300k, 500k).

3. As obvious as it be, its the juggernaut of menace, ORT.

Packing 1 million HP for its, err, its not even a bar, its, uh, a barrier or skin or whatever. Anyway the mission for this fight is to reduce its 1mil HP. ORT doesn't have much trick other than its regular attack hits all unit, and it hits quite hard. A neutral lv90 servant with no defense buff will dies in two turn. So its question of damage race before it kills you, and 1mil HP is a lot. Alter Ego and Foreigner can deal effective damage to it.

After you break its 1mil HP bar, it will reveal its real HP bar which it has like ten of it. First one has 10mil and second one is 100mil... Yeah, just let yourself lose by that point.

Do you also notice that its actually still just level 1? That literally still at its baby phase. I don't think even Space Ishtar hold a candle to this.

Also if you're worried about the rumor that party defeated here will be locked from being used in story mode, I say that's a load of bullshit. Literally no one can test that since the story is locked after this fight, and the fact that they gave no warning about it before this fight.

Let's be clear, they have put a warning about your mystic code appearance for this chapter will be stuck in Decisive Battle mystic code, but its skill and exp will goes to the mystic code you chose. They gave a warning about it and you're telling me that they didn't give any warning about your party member will be locked in story mode?

Secondly, yes your servant who get defeated by ORT will be turned into crystal and absorbed, that's their defeat animation for this fight. In story mode it also happens briefly before this fight where Nemo got crystallized and absorbed, but after this fight Kukulcan rewind the time (or some bullshit that happened, idk) and everything went back as if ORT didn't attack, and Nemo is there back to normal. So at the very least for this fight alone we don't have to worry.

[crawlingbetweenearthandheaven]

guising; halloween, 2006

Kendall is starting to come back down to normality, and it's Halloween, and they are American tourists in Yorkshire. on the ao3 here or below

“Well,” Kendall says, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket, “this feels pointed.” He breathes in and out deeply, like the doctor has told him to do. The house is dark and darkening as the clock creeps onwards. “I fucking hate when the clocks change.” He lights a cigarette and catches his finger on the flame.

Stewy looks at him from where he is doing makeup in the mirror. “Dude, it’s the most appropriate costume in the world. Even if the Brits don’t really do Halloween, and you’re chemically lobotomised –“

“It’s just the lithium,” Shiv tells Stewy, like he hasn’t read all the leaflets since the doctor left them all on the kitchen table and sat in the computer room until his head hurt reading miserable blogposts from poor people about their BIPOLAR HELL and reading about Byron and van Gogh and sobering-if-boring articles on suicide statistics and lithium toxicity and addiction issues and endless fucking misery. His eyes flicker to her, dressed in a red shirt and blue pinafore dress. She shows them what she has in her hands. “I could only find a cricket bat here, so – “

Roman snatches the cricket bat, gives her the axe he’s holding. “Let’s swap,” he says. “You’re way more likely to damage your kid or go insane and start seeing shit and –“

“I’m the one most likely to do that,” Kendall says, and it should be but he can’t bring himself to actually laugh. His siblings just look at each other as if he’s still manic, even if the lithium has brought him back to earth with a horrible lurching feeling and he’s so tired he feels rooted to the floor half the time. “Fuck, I must be crazy if Stewy’s talked me into this,” he tells his feet, shuffling them slightly.

“Vampires are the most appropriate costume for Stewy because he is the Vampire of Wall Street,” Roman says. He boggles his eyes. “Now I look the part,” he announces.

“I’m in private equity,” Stewy says.

Shiv snorts. “Same thing, isn’t it?”

Kendall looks in the mirror. He looks pale and bloated, like a corpse that has been in the water for three days. His eyes are bloodshot and his hands are shaking, but he’s wearing a black cape fashioned from a curtain.

“Where’s Connor?” he says, looking around. “He’s got my next dose, which I still think is fucking stupid and I can be trusted with all my meds and there’s no point in dressing up anyway because the Brits don’t do it and we’re not in college anymore and I don’t want to waste my time – “

“Kendall,” Stewy says, handing him a pair of plastic vampire teeth. “You’ve spent the past few weeks terrifying the life out of us. It’s our turn, don’t you think?”

Kendall shoves the teeth into his mouth too hard and his lip starts bleeding; he starts to worry at it with his tongue and his teeth until the blood runs down his chin. He watches it in the mirror, until Roman notices.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Roman says, and goes in search of a towel. They hear him muttering to himself about lunatics and idiot brothers and several homophobic slurs whispered too low to quite catch. Shiv starts to paint exaggerated eyelashes under her eyes. Stewy looks at Kendall in the mirror until he makes eye contact.

“You know I hate dressing up,” Connor says as he rounds the corner, tread heavy on the stairs. “You are all children –“ and he walks in and he is wearing his normal clothes. “I’m being Conor Roy,” he tells them, but he is trying not to smirk. "I am mentioned on Dad's Wikipedia page, you know. So I am notable - " Shiv rolls her eyes as if she has been practicing.

Roman walks back in with a teatowel, and scrubs too hard at Kendall’s chin. He licks his finger and rubs at the blood. “Is that weird?” he asks, pausing. “I saw it in a movie once,” and Kendall shrugs and shakes his head and tries to smile but feels hollow. He keeps thinking of all the empty shells that wash up at the seashore after a storm.

“What would Dad dress up as? He’d probably call it guising or something Scottish. Mum would say it’s a vulgar American import, right? Like watching television in bed or laughing at mealtimes,” Roman says, waving the cricket bat around his head.

“Dad would be the vampire,” Shiv says, and then laughs. “No, Dad would be fucking – that horrible painting with Saturn eating his son? Roman got obsessed with it last year when we got dragged round every gallery in Madrid.” She mimes a few times.

“As the art expert – “ Connor begins, but Kendall tries to laugh and makes a weird gasping sound instead until Connor shrugs and says something about Kendall’s “newfound admiration for the visual arts”.

As if Connor has not spoken, Shiv keeps talking. "He painted it on the wall of his house, remember? That's some Kendall shit right there. The crazy stuff. Spanish Inquisition - "

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" Connor interrupts, looking delighted.

"Fucking dork," Roman mutters under his breath. "I can see Dad being that painting, but only accidentally. Like oh, he just happened to accidentally acquire everything that mattered to a business venture, steamroll in with his name and his money, wreck it all - "

"He did do that accidentally," Connor says. "He told me, he had no choice but to buy in, because of the markets -"

Stewy closes his eyes for a second. “Going back to paintings, specifically Kendall's new one. Did we decide what to do about that? Does your dad know?” He takes several long sips from the whisky in his hand, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Kendall.

For the first time in a little while, Kendall feels slightly turned on. He sniffs, wishes he had some water or vodka or wine. “He said it was fine and his guys will sort it and he’s glad I’ve got my head, uh, straightened out.”

“Does he know about you and Stewy? I – I still think it’s great, you guys,” Connor adds hastily, watching Kendall watching Stewy’s throat move as he swallows.

“He knows everything in a sort of five-eyes Bill-Gates fucking… KGB type way,” Roman says. “But he’s not mentioned it. I guess he might be waiting until he needs to use it,” he muses. He has put down the cricket bat and is drinking neat vodka.

“If he knew, I think he’d get one of his guys to talk me into killing myself,” Kendall says quietly. The truth of the words soaks into him and he feels hot and cold all at once. Stewy reaches out and takes his hand.

[thebonesofhoudini]

Here is last night’s episode of my show. All I’m gonna say is....I’m BACK! 128 BPM in effect.

Tracklist

L Swift - Daydreamin' (Instrumental)

Szs - Monochromatic

Fabø - Redsposition

Duke Boara - Into The Blue

Dadou - Bohm

Sakdat & Balaur - Tadaima

Mihai Pol - Remote

Christopher Ledger - Swap Function

ARDB - Overtones (Silverlining Remix)

Alsi - The Light

Baban - Days Are Numbered

Mihai Popoviciu - Premium

Staniz - Abstract 9

Zeleke - HWLSD55.1

R107 - Sense Of Nostalgia

MOOR - Sable

Preesh - Grassvoices

Neuronphase - By Myself

Genius Of Time - Taurindo Shuffle

JNJS - Grey Room

Aubrey - Adult Supervision

Sterac - Looking Down To Earth (While Sitting On Clouds)

Condensation

[heroeslostintranslation]

Weapons

[Ao3]

Stars glittered between leaves. The youth missed the open night sky of the desert, when the shorter man (who he’d taken to calling “the cook” in his mind to differentiate the two) would swap out the cooling circlet for a warming one made with leather and a polished red stone. The youth had never seen stars before. The city was too bright at night, and he’d never been outside of it until…

Until… her.

Kate. He thought of her every day, wondered if she was alright, if the women of Gerudo Village were treating her well. He hoped so. He hoped that man would forget about her and concentrate on finding the disobedient youth instead. He didn’t want to be found, but more than anything he wanted her to be safe.

Kate. Kate. Such a short name, but he loved it all the same. She had been so kind to him, even after he explained why they had to run and hide, that they had to leave the city and never return.

She’d asked for his name, assuming he had one, confused when she learned that he didn’t. Did she really think he was that important? Did she think he was really worth giving a name to, even after he’d been sent to kill her? He wondered how she’d earned hers, but he never had the opportunity to ask. It didn’t feel right, anyway. He had no name because he was of no consequence. She, on the other hand, came from a world where everyone mattered, where everyone deserved a name. He sighed, wondering what it must be like to live in a community where everyone had a name. To live in a community at all. 

The youth heard something out of place. He sat up, listening. Footsteps? Movement in the leaves. He focused, pupils dilating, straining to pick up anything in the darkness. 

He moved before he consciously recognized the shape. He dashed to the side just as a huge metal bat came down, crashing into the earth with a dull thud. The creature came at him again, snarl-screaming as it swung the bat his way. He dodged, heart pumping like a machine, muscles poised and ready to strike back. 

A strange sound. Blood and a strange object—a sharpened point, either stone or metal if he had to guess, at the end of a stick—spat out from between the beast’s eyes. 

The youth relaxed. He caught the monster before it fell, examining the deadly wound. The other end of the stick was decorated with feathers and had a small notch carved into it. He pulled the entire object from the monster’s head, examining it. 

A gun fired. 

He dropped to the ground. Rolled to a nearby tree as his instincts took over. 

They found him. 

He took cover. If he could get to the monster, the fight would be over. He whistled harshly, trying to attract the beast’s attention. The one with the bat was just a small fry, a miniblin. A bokoblin would be a hassle, but he could manage. 

He hoped there were no moblins in this group. 

The instant the creature’s hand clumsily came into view, he grabbed it, snapping the wrist and turning the cheap gun on its owner. One shot between the eyes was all it took. He wasn’t about to waste ammo, just in case there were more. 

The corpses glowed with a sickly purple fire, a dark hum that didn’t belong in these woods. Skeletons broke free from their fleshy prisons and leaped at him. He strafed, calculating the arc of the stalkoblin’s jumps before firing. 

Another pointy-stick-thing shot through the stalniblin’s skull, from a slightly different angle. Both monsters dissolved into purple smoke. 

The youth lowered his weapon, listening. 

Thud. Shuffle. 

Oh no. 

The youth was content to plant himself behind a tree at the sound of a moblin’s oncoming charge, but to his horror, the newcomer—the taller man—didn’t seem so inclined. He appeared from the trees and faced the beast head on, eyes narrowing. He carried a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, but to the youth’s further horror, he set both on his back. 

The moblin charged. There wasn’t time to distract it, nor to get in the way. Normally moblins were slow and lumbering, but their signature charge attack could shoot them across quite a distance in under a second. 

The newcomer planted his feet, eyes focused. His outstretched arms caught the hulking creature, boots sliding backwards, sinking into the grass as he took the full force of the monster’s charge. With bulging muscles and a mighty yell, the man twisted, throwing the moblin to the side, letting its own momentum hurl its back into a nearby tree. A meaty crack rang out. The monster fell to its hands and feet, dazed and limping. 

A loud whistle caught the moblin’s attention. It whirled around—as much as it could with its injuries—and roared at the cook. 

Who was wielding a pot lid and a tree branch. 

The youth moved closer, trying to line up a better shot. The moblin slashed its long, sharp claws at the cook, but the cook swung his impromptu shield at precisely the right moment. He dropped his gear while the monster was dazed, picked up the miniblin’s bat, and rushed the opening, spinning like a top as the bat crashed into the moblin’s skull over and over and over and— 

The fight was cut short by the taller man’s blade, gutting the monster where it stood. It started to glow purple. The cook planted his boot to stop spinning, not even appearing dizzy. He dropped the bat and readied… something. It was a long, shaped, stick-like thing with a string attached to either end. He drew one of those smaller pointy sticks from a collection of them at his hip and pulled it back with the string. 

The youth blinked. That thing was so… primitive. He saw now what the feathers were for, probably to stabilize the pointy stick things during flight. But why not just use a gun? Even the cheap ones that still used bullets would pack more of a punch than whatever the cook was using. 

But he couldn’t argue that the strange contraption got the job done all the same. The cook fired it point-blank at the stalmoblin’s skull, killing it instantly. 

They listened. Pointed ears twitching. 

Silence. And then, slowly, the sounds of birds and bugs and other forest life returned. 

The youth exhaled. He checked to see how much ammo was left. Almost a full clip. Cheap bullets or not, that would come in handy. He replaced the clip, flicked on the safety and lowered the pistol. 

“Iho rae iwhuznf?” The taller man—nicknamed “the strongman” after that stunt—walked toward the youth, weapons lowered. 

Guessing at his question—probably something like, “are you okay?” judging by the tone—the youth nodded. He watched the cook scramble around what remained of the corpses, picking up various organs and bones and dropping them into his hip bag. 

The youth’s stomach bent just a little. What did he need those for? 

The strongman seemed equally confused. He shook his head, then smiled at the youth. “Rae niyvwov raehpowt choffr moww. Mnif up fnif fnuyz?” He pointed to the firearm. 

Considering these men had just walked into a monster fight with a sword, shield, and some incredibly primitive projectile weapon, the youth didn’t think handing them a loaded gun was a good idea. He removed the clip and checked the chamber before letting the strongman examine the weapon. 

To his surprise, the strongman handled the weapon with a great deal of care and even some spark of familiarity. He pointed to the clip, asking to see it, but didn’t take it from the young man. Instead he examined the contents, brow furrowed in curiosity. He took out one of the bullets and looked it over. 

“Nlwec’plwe vuc cliwei?” The cook came over, looking between them curiously. 

“Rae odoh pooy iyrfnuyz wuso fnup?” The strongman handed the bullet to the cook. 

“Nlwec zok clzok?” The cook seemed fascinated by the tiny object. He ran a gentle fingernail between the bullet and casing, seeming to puzzle out that they were separate. 

The youth looked around for a bit and found a spent casing. He even managed to find a flattened bullet. He presented both to the cook. 

The strongman’s eyes lit up in understanding. “An! Pa uf pocihifop.” He examined the gun again, then looked at the young man. “Nam vaop uf—nl.” 

The cook was muttering to himself as he examined the spent casing. “Cliwei yakc gi kuyi fzohj us iqjfukzozoi zoh liwei. Clwec jweujifk clzok jwewec suwenwewej, gac lun juik zoc—Ul, liwei ni vu.”

The strongman handed the gun back to the youth and reached into his bag for something.

The cook tapped the youth on the shoulder. “Pweh zo kii clwec?” He pointed at the pistol.

Out of habit, the youth double checked that the clip was out and the chamber was empty before handing it over. The cook handed the bullet back to him and took the pistol. Unlike the strongman, he seemed entirely unfamiliar with the weapon.

The strongman got their attention and showed them what he’d pulled out of his bag. It suddenly became clear why he seemed more familiar with the pistol than the cook: what he showed them looked like a tacky in-between of a firearm and whatever projectile weapon the cook was using. It was shaped mostly like a firearm, with a grip and trigger and even sights, but had a miniature version of the cook’s weapon attached to the front of it. 

The cook was intensely fascinated. The youth was reminded of the ever-present gears behind his intelligent eyes. He could see them spinning at high speeds as the cook pieced together the mechanics of each device. It was impressive, considering how primitive his weapons were, that he could even comprehend such mechanisms. 

The cook handed the pistol back to the youth and held up a finger. He pulled a stick projectile out of his bag, but this one was different from the others the youth had seen. Instead of a pointy end, this one had a red cloth wrapped around the tip, filled with something that formed a spherical shape with a little knob on the end. The cook held the projectile with the cloth side down, and handed it to the youth. When the youth took it, the cook wrapped his own hand around the youth’s and pointed at it. “Lufj zoc bakc fzofi clwec.”

“Up fnif i jalj ihham?” said the strongman. 

The cook began carefully untying the red cloth. The young man held his hand steady. The cook pulled off a very small portion of the white substance inside the sphere, then re-tied the cloth. He took the stick back from the youth and replaced it in his hip pouch. Then he looked around, found a nearby boulder, and placed the small amount of white substance on top of it. He looked at them and covered his ears. “Zoc’k fuaj.” 

The youth and the strongman looked at each other, then copied the cook. 

The cook nodded, satisfied. He picked up the metal bat, covered his own ears as best he could, then smacked the white stuff with the bat. It took a few tries, but then a loud, sharp POP! sounded, accompanied by a tiny shockwave that sent bits of dust swirling through the air. The white substance mostly disappeared, and there was a tiny dent left in the stone. 

“That’s an explosive,” the youth muttered. He cautiously pulled his hands away from his ears. Why on earth would someone pack a pressure-sensitive explosive into the end of one of those stick projectiles? That didn’t seem safe at all! 

The cook looked almost giddy. He held up the bullet casing and pointed to the primer end. “Clwec’k nlwec’k zoh liwei, zokh’c zoc?” He pointed to the boulder, then back to the casing. 

The youth was stunned. Did… Did the cook just work out how bullets work? 

The cook excitedly pantomimed the entire process: something in the pistol struck the primer, which exploded, sending the bullet out of the casing.

“An!” The strongman seemed to be catching on. In a softer voice (probably to himself) he added, “Fnif up xeufo fno lokniyupl. U’do noihv at jalj ihhamp jotaho, jef fnup up palofnuyz owpo.” 

The youth wished he could understand them. He replaced the clip, turned on the safety and stuck the weapon into a concealed holster at his hip. His outfit—a black top and bottom that that fit together perfectly along the edges—was specifically designed for the mission he’d been sent on. It was full of hidden holsters, sheaths for blades of varying sizes, and a few storage pockets for good measure. 

He thought of Kate again. He knew it was better, safer, for them to be separated like this. But he still worried. He wanted to be there to protect her in person. But... 

He startled at a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, right into the strongman’s face. The strongman spoke softly to him in words that he couldn’t understand. Frustrated and confused, the youth shook his head and moved away from the contact. 

He didn’t see the shared look of concern between the older men as he made his way back to camp. 

[start | prev | next (coming at some point maybe idk)]