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#Arc 3
l-ii-zz · 1 day
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (FIN)
More pages under the cut 👇👇👇
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bamsara · 2 years
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Thinking about domestic life with these jester robots.
Ft their Teacher! outfits because I was thinking about that ARC in Solar Lunacy lmao. Also my cat makes an appearence :D
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meroaw · 1 year
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luna
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textbook-dinner · 20 days
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redraw +1 year improvement!
2023
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2024
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designs are from the dna map by triangleseagull!
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3zethe3zr · 4 months
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Despite it all, I have a soft spot for Blue and his family
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the second half of arc three feels like it would be beautiful had it gone towards a revolution and cultural change route rather than "oh! the slavery community was actually totally just this angry plant and it's disembodied corpses! no introspection needed! have a nice day!! :)))"
it just feels so.. disregarding of the topic at hand? and entirely unrealistic at best.
.
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k8wof-designs · 1 year
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Wren the Scavenger
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askbookwormflareon · 7 months
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So um... Y.. You all good, Honey? You went completely unresponsive there for a bit...
Do you... Need anything?
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Honey: ...It's fine, don't worry about it.
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dw-flagler · 6 days
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Inhales through teeth. forgot glory girl said that.
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oldestenemy · 4 months
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The wizard is glad they are sent to Cyrus when things have settled. That again, he is the one who knows anything of the world they are seeking, out of everyone.
“I want you to seek out an old…friend of mine.” He explains the bones of their quest—find Ivan the Great, have him aid in finding Baba Yaga, convince her to help with Bartleby’s ailment—and it feels painfully simple. But they know better. It will not remain so.
“Polaris lies at the very edge of the Spiral—on the horizon as it were—Where land meets sky, where the worlds fall off into the endless expanse of the in-between. Why it would cause Bartleby to fall ill, I cannot begin to fathom. But if there are answers to be found in Polaris, you would be the one to find them.”
The spiral key for Polaris looks like a little three pronged lamp-post. Silvery and shining faintly.
They are going to need to invest in a bigger keyring soon…
Before going, a note of importance.
“I know the others have it handled, but—”
“—Rest assured I will keep eyes and ears out for Mr. Grimwater.” Cyrus finishes before they get the words out. It offers a relief the wizard can barely explain. They cannot shake the feeling that there is a wrongness to his disappearance, a danger around it.
“Thank you. Really.” They force themself not to add for everything.
They have been trying harder to make their interactions with other people feel less final.
It’s hard.
But they’re trying.
Penny and Malorn are standing by Bartleby waiting for them.
It’s not going to be like the last time.
There is urgency here, yes, but they are not sprinting forward after their own demise.
“Be careful,” Penny urges as soon as they are in earshot.
“I will be,” the wizard responds, “this—this won’t be as bad as the other worlds I’ve been to in the last year. In and out.” Maybe if they speak that into existence it will become true. Probably not.
“Somehow I doubt that,” Malorn says, “if you need us, or need a break—if you can get one—I’ll be here or in Dragonspyre.”
“I’m going back to Marleybone for a while to visit my parents,” Penny adds, “but promise if something happens—”
“—You’ll be the first to know.” The wizard assures her.
It’s a lie.
They are going to keep these things as far from the others as they can manage.
This is the first time they’ve walked through Bartleby in…a very long time. It looks different. Leaves falling and wilting in every corner, autumn colors invade upon the green, not vibrant but sickly and muted. They try not to think that it’s helping. The fact that it has changed within the chamber means it is not throwing them so distinctly back into the moments after Azteca.
The door opens onto a chill, onto the distinct smell of snow.
“Ahem!”
A…penguin?
A…French penguin.
The inhabitants of the spiral never cease to be interesting at least.
Sometimes their memories from Earth have use here. But why anyone would decide for penguins to be French—especially in a locale that seems more like tsarist Russia—they don’t particularly have time to dwell on. The only reason it’s familiar at all is because they had been fixated on that animated movie about a missing Russian princess for several years of their young childhood. They can almost hear the music as they walk through the streets.
Routine falls into place.
Maybe it’s the fact that prior to this they were involved in an outright war, but the fighting here seems almost trivial. Before they know it, they are wrapped up in a revolution, throwing fish into the harbor, following Red Rosa to whatever she needs.
And then they are assisting a polar bear in dancing a ballet—and gods that movie just keeps coming back to pester them doesn’t it—but it feels good to be doing something that isn’t…dueling. Somewhere along the line one of the Patriôtes had handed the wizard a saber that was now functioning as their wand—something they haven’t really done since Avalon, and before that Dragonspyre—it makes the battles a bit visceral for their tastes, especially when they are not yet sure of their purpose here.
Find Ivan.
This does prove to be fairly straightforward, and following him through his aid to the Patriôtes and their rebellion is both easy and—a little entertaining. There is an element of joy that underlies every act of resistance, and Ivan’s intensity in battle has them missing Dyvim. But like everyone, they leave him when the time comes. Walking into the cold expansive woods alone in search of Baba Yaga.
An eerie silence permeates this part of the forest. It is as though all the wildlife were holding its breath.
Raven is loud here, near as loud as she is in Grizzleheim.
The wizard ignores her. They have been doing so for months now, still angry for Nidavellir, for her dragging Malorn and the other necromancers into problems that did not need to be theirs. But they never went back to see her, they meant to at least try and get answers about Lorcan—
But then Duncan went missing, and now this.
It doesn’t matter.
Grandmother Raven is not going anywhere.
They can go and shout themself hoarse at her perch whenever the mood strikes.
What the wizard does find in this silent clearing of the wood, is a girl.
A human girl.
Which—under many circumstances shouldn’t be considered strange, but the only other human they’ve seen in Polaris thus far is Rasputin. It’s not often they run into people who aren’t also some kind of creature. Though on closer inspection, perhaps this girl is some kind of creature. There are inky black feathers shifting in her hair that look as though they sprout straight from her scalp along with it.
Later they learn the girl—Mellori—is Baba Yaga’s daughter. Given that the witch herself lives inside a house with chicken legs, Mellori’s feathered hair no longer strikes them as surprising. Nor does her immediate act of following them to the Auroracle. Mellori reminds them of their younger self. Hungry for adventure and mystery.
The wizard isn’t sure yet if that is a welcome comfort, or a bad omen for their new friend’s future.
Read the whole series here <3
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sunset-a-story · 1 month
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Last Line Tag
Thank you for the tag, @pandoras-comment-box my fren! Here's the last line from the scene I was working on today.
He only knew that right now the one person he wasn’t throwing under the bus was himself--because he'd been under there for a while and no one could judge him for rolling out of the way to dodge the back wheels. 
No pressure tagging @thatndginger @void-botanist @squarebracket-trick @sunlit-gully @sleepywriter00 and open tag ^^
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l-ii-zz · 6 months
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A tiny moment of happiness.
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bamsara · 1 year
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"Don't bleed on my carpet" I can see YN maybe getting a booboo and Sun and or Moon freaking out
Moon-Centric | Wordcount: 1,648 | AO3 Version
Contains some spoilers for ARC 3 (Post-Fire) of Solar Lunacy, so please consider this a crumb! Notes: Contains blood mention, obv, and character exibihiting some subtle signs of PTSD.
Nosebleeds sucked. Unpredicatable most of the time, and inconvienent. You don't even feel it happening until droplets of blood splatter on your phone screen as your looking down. So you sigh, stand up from the table and attempt to hold your nose back as you fumble your way to the bathroom.
The Daycare Attendant isn't here at the moment, downstairs helping Gramps with something, so it's a bit of a fummble to the bathroom without blood dripping everywhere by yourself.
The flow was heavy. You inwardly cringe as you hear a few droplets hit the floor, and holding your head back, you hold out a hand to feel against the wall to guide you, and scold yourself when you realize you just probably smeared blood on the wall as well.
You make it to the bathroom, don't even bother turning on the main lights, flicking on only the nightlight that you keep in the outlet under the mirror. Your friend doesn't like it when some rooms are dark, and others are brightly lit. Could cause rapid changes, or a possible Eclipse. You find the toliet paper and bunch it up easy enough with what illumination you have.
Winter was such a pain sometimes. You were prone to nosebleeds when the air was so dry like this. You should look into getting a humidifier or something.
A few scrunched up balls of toliet paper shoved up your nose later, the blood isn't showing any sign of stopping, and a pile of bloody tissue is collecting into a pile by the sink. You sigh, head light. That's gonna be annoying to clean up, as well as the rest of the stains. You also made the mistake of wiping your phone onto your shirt without thinking about it before. THAT was going to be one nasty stain to get rid of, if you can even salvage it.
On the sixth tissue ball, you hear the front door open. You'd call out if it wasn't for the sneeze you felt rising, and for the sake of now spewing blood and snot all over your bathroom mirror, you put your effort into holding it back.
The door shuts, clicks and locks. A few padded footsteps for some paces, then stop. There's a quiet pause as the sneeze subsides, and then the sudden sound of hurried movement through the house, walking quickly over your own path-
The door to the bathroom that was cracked open is swung completly outwards, an ridged animatronic grips the doorhandle with a tightens that almost cracks it.
Moon's smile is strained, eyes as wide as the times nightmares only bring forth, and shrunken pupils scan before they find you.
A heartbeat passes (and you probably look stupid, tissued-up and stuffy nosed) as the robot blinks, the tension in his form lessens, and gaze softens.
You talk stuffy and dry. "What? What's wrong?"
Pupils, no longer small, fall down to where blood drips off your chin and onto the bathroom mat. "Don't bleed on my carpet."
"YOUR carpet?" You scoff, and it comes out a bit choked. The last thing you wanted was blood traveling down your sinuses and down your throat. "Excuse you! My house! My Carpet!"
"Laundry mess." He talks low again, and it sounds like teasing. Whatever strain that was in his fave prior has melted away, and the robot leaves the door open as he steps forwards. A hand comes to you without permission, fingers gripping your jaw and positioning your head towards him for a better look.
Moon doesn't tut at you, but his expression spells the idea. "You're doing it wrong."
You've half a mind to sneeze on HIM just to get your space back, and to be annoying on purpose, but the hand on your jaw slides against your skin to the back of your neck, and you feel fingers wrap around there, a few running up into your hair. Your head is promptly pushed to face downwards, another tissue is brought to your nose as you feel the blood rush.
"Look down. Not up." Moon speaks. Whatever argument you have is muffled by tissue and trying to breathe now that you've been flipped a bit. He presses the tissue to your nostirils, blood soaking through to his fingertips. "Drain it. Breathe through your mouth."
"Yeah, okay, Doc." You talk, a bit breathy because yeah maybe he had a point there. It's a gross feeling, and it feels awkward, but the blood flow starts to lessen after a minute, and it's nice not having to keep trying from swallowing anything in the sinuses. "Did you have fun with Gramps?"
Moon makes a small sound of aknowledgment. He does not move his hands from your face or the back of your head.
You talk to fill the silence. "Whattya guys do, anyway?" Raising your hands, you try to replace his own. "I can do this part myself, by the way."
He does not let you, that is, until the tissue needs replacing and has no choice but to pull away the old one. "Magic tricks."
"Magic tricks?"
"He wanted to learn." A quick hand replaces the space of your own with a new tissue. You give up, letting your arms fall to your side. Moon is attentive when it comes to your face, and low-lidded as he wipes the blood stain on your upper lip. "Be still."
You stick out your tongue. He pushes it back in with his thumb. "I said, be still."
"Whatever." It's a bit demeaning, this act. It also feels nice to be cared for in such a gentle manner. Maybe it's his programming, but you know it's just what they like to do. Still, he's slow in movements, and you glance back to the mess you've made on the sink. "Does the blood not bother you anymore?"
Maybe not the best thing to say, and you realize that instantly after it leaves your mouth. Moon's movements pause, if only for a moment. "No."
"I can clean up the blood."
"It's okay."
"And the mess in the living room."
"It's fine."
"I can do this part too, you know, if you're still-"
A tighter grip around your face, Moon's smile thins into annoyance. "Stop. Moving."
Fine, sure. You raise your hands up into the air as a mockery of surrender as he runs a rag underneath the sink water and dabs it in places where blood traveled and you did not see. Your faces is scrubbed clean (ratherly harshly, and probably thanks to your commentary) along with your neck and collarbone. He doesn't bother with the stains on your shirt or shirt collar and you take that as inward confirmation that this shirt was done for.
So you stand in the process, eyes closed and thinking about what to make for dinner as the animatronic does his work. Finally after a good five minutes of silence, he lets you go. Opening your eyes, Moon steps back, looking you over once more. The blooded rag is tossed into the garbage bin instead of the laundry basket, and he turns from you to gather the tissue paper on the sink and dump those in the trash as well. "Shirt."
"Yeah, yeah I know, I know." You're pulling the shirt off before he even finished the sentence, running a thick part, unstained part under the water before exiting the bathroom. Might as well use it to clean up the rest if you can't salvage the clothing.
Luckily for you, the stains on the floor and wall come off with some hard scrubbing and some cleaner you keep under the kitchen sink. You've tossed the ruined shirt into the trash as Moon exits the bathroom, presummably finished cleaning in there, and make eye contact in the hallway.
He looks normal, almost default as red eyes and white pupils look over your rather disheviled, shirtless form. But your gaze glances down to his hands, twitchy, stuffed inside of the sweatpants you scored for them at a thrift store, and you know better.
You sniff with a clear sinus this time. "I'm all better now."
Moon's faceplate turns to an sharp angle.
"How do you feel?" You test the waters. The dark of the hallway feels warm, the glow of his unwavering gaze feels warmer. "Moon-?"
"Fine." He cuts you off. The animatronic walks up to you, a hand raised, it comes to your face, his own unchanging. A warm palm presses against your cheek, to your neck, against your pulse.
Double checking. It's all it is. Double checking.
"Fine." He repeats, and his palm drops. "Go sit."
You wish you could read his expression. Sometimes you can't. The animatronic turns his back and you do the same to the living room, finding your phone on the coffee table where you've left it. You're screen is still-mid spot where the mobile game left you, so you save your place.
A moment later, a shirt is thrown over your head, and crinckly package tossed in your lap. Lifting up the frabic, some basic crackers are in front of you. The weight on the sofa shifts as Moon plops down as you're pulling on the shirt, his own form criss-crossing.
It is better not to push. Not unless you wanted to trigger an unwanted, stressful change. "Wanna see this game I'm playing? You take care of digital little cats."
His head tilts again, this time more of curisoity than something else. You crawl into the lap waiting for you, pulling up the game and positioning the screen so he could watch. No words are said, but comfortability is had, and the two of you settle. Silence is broken only by the sound of the buttons clicking and game music playing.
Moon chuckles, though, when you capture a cat and that's half-black and white and name is after him.
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meroaw · 1 year
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Luna and Cricket
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textbook-dinner · 1 month
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the first two books of arc 3 are really nostalgic to me, but i feel like the protagonists had solar masses of wasted potential...
blue, instead of genuinely liking and trusting the hivewings, could instead be in denial about pantalan society. he could be afraid of breaking rules not because he truly believes in them, but because he doesn't want to hurt dragons in the process. his worst fear is becoming like the hivewings, and that's why he won't fight back.
cricket could be worrying about being a burden to everybody, since katydid had to give so much up to hide her. cricket had a very sad and lonely life and she should have some trauma from it.. she and blue would have a sibling relationship instead of being lovers also
sundew could have been a pessimist, since every action she takes would be one step closer to fulfilling her purpose. she would be like clay in the sense that it's her destiny to be a killer, but sundew would have outwardly accepted it. in this scenario she wouldn't be dating willow, but instead have a forbidden romance with cricket.
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lynxz-wof-designs · 10 months
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