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It was seven A.M., and Bestie was… not feeling her best?? Like one of those mornings after you were out all night wandering the strip mall with your closest friends, and then you went to Clara’s house after and played Truth or Dare kind of ironically but also kind of not, then talked about who everyone was dating and what they thought of them really, and brainstormed the perfect captions for everyone’s posts about the mall and who would be jealous, and then talked about wait he really did that and oh she did not think she’d get away with that outfit, and then and then finally went to bed a few hours before dawn. Like that, but Bestie hadn’t done any of that, she knew. And waking up in the mornings was ugh, but this wasn’t just the normal ugh, something was off.

So Bess went into the bathroom to freshen up, since it probably was something that she could at least kind of clean up? But when she got there, she couldn’t find her toothbrush. And her toothpaste, or floss, or anything? It was super weird. So she went back to her room, and it wasn’t ‘til then that she saw her room was kind of gross? She had been groggy getting up so she hadn’t really seen it, but there was a layer of dust on everything, dirtier than she’d ever let it get. And Bess couldn’t do anything about it until the afternoon, which was infuriating, but she needed to get ready for school so she guessed it could wait.

But what couldn’t wait was her journal app. She liked to write her goals for the day every day in the morning, because she’d read somewhere that that was supposed to be a habit of successful people, and she liked winning so might as well try. Bestie grabbed her phone off the charger and opened it, and that’s when she realized something was super off.

Because the date on the phone was wrong; it was a year off. And she wouldn’t have noticed that, because who sees the year anyway, if her phone hadn’t been flooded with notifications and calendar updates like she was getting off a plane and turning her phone off airplane mode.

But the more she looked, the date had to be right, because social media matched up with it. People looked just a little older, they were talking about things that were totally different, and Bestie felt that feeling that she hated —- that she was somehow out of the loop. Bess checked Clara’s account, and there she was, with Tiara and Evie and um who was that exactly? Some girl that Bess didn’t know, but was standing where she was supposed to be. And it was the same for all the recent posts, like some nightmare. She wasn’t anywhere on the timeline, not for months and months.

The more Bestie scrolled, the more she realized she’d been left behind somehow. But she was going to find out. And she would fix this.

Theial greets the dawn alone, standing at the westernmost shore of the inland sea, a long, long time ago.

- created the adventure, set the number of players, and made it non-canon
- added some adventure tags
- wrote the one-line description
- added some text for the embark page
- changed adventurer HP
- edited the embark text
- edited the one-line description as well
- renamed node 1
- added var_set action to the start command called ‘partystate’ and set it to 1
- added var_set action to the start command called ‘advstate’ and set it to 1, and individual
- wrote post text for the start command
- edited the status message text of the defeat command
- tried to make commands in the various nodes, but constantly having to scroll and hunt for a specific node was too frustrating, so gave up and made all the commands global ._.
-
-

There’s something comfortable about the moments before daybreak. Dawn. While the world is still dark. While the new day has not officially started and you linger in the feeling of yesterday, last night, and the accompanying warmth before you must shatter the illusion of time settled still between the sheets and get on with the life paved out in front of you.

Beck Winters lets out a sigh as he turns in his bed carefully, quietly, away from the glass doors of the balcony where the slightest slot in the blinds lets in the first bits of cold light from the overcast day.

Yesterday still existed in this room.

Framed photographs of his family, his childhood, himself and his heroic colleagues, framed articles reporting on his earlier exploits as the hero Equilibrium litter the ground in shards of glass and splintered wood, frames shattered, some askew barely holding on to their frozen lives, laying about and abandoned on the floor in the same condition from the previous night. Cracks and dents littered the plaster walls, a glass coffee table in his living room sat shattered and bent, furniture flung and knocked over, all of the chaos labeled in last night, all clear evidence of a struggle led so clearly to where he languidly leisured in bed. Though not alone. Plaster to pictures to pain and pleasure that he knew he shouldn’t have indulged in as the cold light crept closer to the bed.

With a finger outstretched he reaches out in front of him and sighs content as he slowly drags across pale skin and the notches of his enemy’s spine. The blonde’s back freckled with dark beauty marks, like an inverted night sky with nebulas of purple and yellow bruising that stretched across him and was healing before his eyes (How lucky was Tate to be a speedster?). The touch feather light, gentle, and a far cry from where the previous night had started.

The door ajar as he returned from patrol, purposefully sloppy for anyone who cared enough to try to kill him, but he knew better. This was an invitation.

Tate waited for him to arrive in the dark and cold of his home, sitting on his recliner with that same shit-eating grin on his face when he wanted to fight. The break in was only an excuse. It would only ever be an excuse because he knew Tate was better than this. If he wanted to kill him, if he wanted to rob him blond and strip him of everything then he could do that with ease. Tate the villain could give him a real run for his money. This was an excuse. A pretense that makes the grey of the situation look like a stark black and white contrast. A mistake without the quotes despite how they both knew it was anything other than that. Dropping his coat at the doorway, Beck accepting the invitation without mercy, without relenting, without restraint and the glass of his coffee table gave way with a shatter. Black was white was grey.

A heart beat in adrenaline, a heart beat in passion…What was the difference?

He didn’t give a damn. Heat was heat no matter how he got it. No matter where.

Down his spine he indulges with the simple touch. A shudder rolls down his partner’s back with a snort in his sleep as the other man rolled over still fast asleep. This was pleasure. It was peace.

Peace existed in the moments that do not exist. Unseen, unknown, and unconsidered by others. That which exists and does not exist. These kinds of moments were still safe and sound in the moments that did not have names.

For Beck, peace was before the breaking of dawn, before light could creep and slink and touch what is only known in the dark, before it could sully it with revelation, spotlight, pointing it out and labeling it. By forcing it into the light, it was known to the world, bright, over-saturated that it burned. In the light there was shame and judgment when it was no one’s business, but their own.

He curls around him like a lover, pulling the blanket over themselves and wraps his arms around his waist. His chest pressed to his back, warmth and peace wrapped in this room and far apart from the rest of the world.

“What time is it?” Groggily Tate’s voice sounds, concern underlying sleep and peace, as he turns into Beck’s touch, into security, and warmth without worry.

“Doesn’t matter. We’ve still got time.” His lips press against the back of his neck.

And that’s all it takes to assuage him as a satisfied sigh sounds from Tate and sleep overtakes him and into the dark he drifts once more. Back to comfort away from criticism and confusion. Whatever it was between them it simply suited them and that was all that mattered in the moment.

Beck presses himself close to Tate. He knew the hours, the minutes, the seconds till they would have to wake to the bright pinks and pretty purples that bled to blue skies and signaled the breaking of dawn and day in which they would both have to begin. But still he closed his eyes and hoped they would never come.

For once why couldn’t he have just what he wanted?

As winter is starting to turn to spring, Fenris makes a letter similar in appearance to Danish “Gækkebreve”, wherein he folds a piece of paper, cuts out, then unfolding the paper and writing a message in it.

The letter is one he addresses to various people who have hurt him, in many different ways.

He writes the letter with great pain in his heart, each one a different hurt, but once it’s written he folds it back up and steps out into the snow.

There, he sets the letter alight, a symbol of emotional release.

Winter is a difficult time for Fenris, but as the snow begins to melt and the weather turns warmer, he’s proud he’s made it through once again, a new beginning.

“Eeeeeverybody up!!!

Nora’s booming voice rings through the entire cabin well-enough, without the pot in hand that she’s banging on with a spoon adding extra racket to the household. Jacob moans and pulls the sheets over his head, trying desperately to drown out the ringing noise under the tide of drowsiness, to return him back to sleep.

Maybe it would have worked, had it not been for Nora ripping the blankets off of him. “That includes you!!” She leans down to bang her pot again, the sound reverberating around Jacob’s entire skull. He cries out in pain and covers his ears.

“Why so early?!” he complains, pulling the pillow over his head. “You said we had the day off!”

“From training,” Nora replies, patting him. She immediately rips the pillow off, throwing it across the room. “Come on kid! Get up! We have cleaning to do!”

“Cleaning?!”

——

The sun is high in the sky - about the ideal time he would have liked to have gotten out of bed. Jake grits his teeth and continues scrubbing the floorboards. His arms feel like they’re going to fall off. He’s never been so tired in his life.

Nora, as usual, is completely unfazed, pulling another nail out of her teeth and hammering away at the loose floorboards. Her infinite energy is… terrifying.

“Every year?” he asks again. How long is this apprenticeship again??

“Out with the old grime and gunk, in with the fresh help and new memories!” she replied, grinning ear-to-ear. “It’s good for ya, kid! Everything needs at least an annual deep clean!” She leaned forward. “Now keep goin’, kid! Break time is in an hour!!”

Ugh… maybe he’ll die by then. He could only hope. Muscles burning, he continued to scrub.

yes yes a new shiny new design another au yes yes
him not carved yet but. see him face. and feel worse <3

Charlie looked in the mirror and sighed heavily… “New year, new me..?” They brushed their hands down the front of their shirt and shifted in their shoes. Hair fell in front of bright eyes. Charlie heaved another sigh and lifted an arm in a half wave. “What am I even doing? This is so stupid… I cant just reintroduce myself to the person who birthed me… but.. Ive changed. Its time I told her… She’ll understand, right?” Charlie’s hand fell to their side. Mom would be home any minute now, the anticipation was killing them. How long could they stand in front of this mirror? Going over every detail, their brain pointing out each and every insecurity, every feature screaming that they were something else, someone else. That they weren’t Charlie. Every feature their mom would see, every curve and freckle, the person she raised but different from who she knew. No. Charlie shook their head. “I’m still me, I’m still your baby. I’m just growing. Every parent wants to see their child grow… right?” Outside their room and down the hall they heard the faint sound of the door shutting. Charlie immediately tightened. Shoulders to their ears, holding their breath. They heaved a last huge sigh and rolled their shoulders back. “This is it. You’ve got this. Whatever happens, happens. New year, new me.”

Charlie opened the door to their room and walked down the hall, into the kitchen to where their mom was putting away groceries. Her back was to Charlie. “Hey mom…” She turned, her smile turning to concern as she saw Charlie’s face.“Mom… I.” Now that it was time and they were here Charlie couldn’t seem to get the words out. The carefully worded monologue of all their feelings and the reasons, just completely gone. Charlie could feel the panic settling into their chest, and the tears welling up in their eyes. Of course Mother noticed and was on them in a flash, wrapping them in a hug they didn’t feel they deserved. Charlie whispered into her chest. “Im Charlie… Im Charlie…” She pulled them away from her just a little to hear what Charlie said. Charlie took a breath, and a little louder said, “I’m Charlie.” Mom smiled and kissed him on the forehead.

“What a handsome name, Charlie.”

The bag was full almost to bursting, and yet Trys insisted on trying to fit more and more of her clothing into it. Valeria’s climate was different from Luccia, at least as far as she had heard, and she wanted to be adequately prepared for whatever was in store for her there. She just hoped her princess was being appropriately cared for, though a sudden thought of Serena’s cheery attitude keeping her warm even in chilly winter winds ran through her mind. Serena could make herself a throne from a tree stump and no one would question it, they’d just bow to her and call her queen. That was the type of personality she had, and not by arrogance or pride. She was simply lovable with a kind attitude and generous heart. For the first time since Serena’s disappearance, Trys felt the absence of her best friend deeply. The panic of the castle and haste to arrange a search for their princess had kept Trys thoroughly distracted, but for the first time, when she was finally alone and set on her path, Trys was able to stop and breathe. And now all her wounds were keenly felt.

Serena had vanished, not to some hidden danger or nefarious scheme, but seemingly of her own accord. And in doing so, she had left Trys and Nico and Len behind. A sudden burst of frustration empowered Trys’s next movement and she found herself forearm deep in her bag. A blush of shame followed. It wasn’t like she was mad at Serena. More that she didn’t understand why Serena had gone off on her own. Although, admittedly, perhaps she was a little hurt that whatever adventure Serena had left on didn’t seem to need to include her. Despite the fact they were a team.

Trys felt a pout form on her lips, and quickly she pinched her own cheek to make it go away. It was no matter, it wasn’t her job to question her princess. It was, however, her job to find her. Trys dropped the flap of her bag down, tying the strings tight to prevent any potential escape of her belongings. Whether Serena wanted to come home or not, Trys didn’t care. She just wanted to know that her friend was safe, and she’d certainly go to the ends of the earth to ensure that.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, Trys stood, casting a glance across her room. It was small, modest. She hadn’t bothered to redecorate since coming back from the fountains. She wondered if that’s because it stopped feeling like home, and suddenly she wondered whether Serena had felt the same way. But that couldn’t be the truth— at least, not all of it. For Serena to leave without a word, it would have to have been something that threatened them, something she wouldn’t want her friends involved with. And for someone who had a tendency to always need help, it would have to be something rather terrifying.

Suddenly, the room felt a lot bigger than it had before. Trys wasn’t really the adventurous type, and yet here she was gearing herself up for something that her friend had done something absolutely unthinkable to protect her from. What was she thinking? She was just an apothecary, a failed alchemist! What did she expect to accomplish by throwing herself to the wolves? Then again, it didn’t quite matter, did it. Serena was alone out there, and dangerous or not, Trys wasn’t about to accept that. At least she had a plan. That grinning boy from the party, the one with those bright green eyes, he knew something. She could tell he was Valerian, however he tried to hide it, and he had said something to her that sounded like a warning. She would find him and make him tell her what was going on. He couldn’t escape her.

She steeled herself, finally shooting a glance toward the mirror on the far wall. She looked like a kid. Felt like a kid. But here she was, setting out on some wild adventure to find a princess who may not want to be found. It was the beginning of something different, that was certain. She hoped that with any luck it would be something better.

Noen, my little daughter of the dawn! She’s a veritable ray of sunshine. I’ve been meaning to give her a new and updated look for a long time, and what better way to celebrate the dawn of a new year than with the dawn herself!

wowie wow wow, a haru redesign :0

his old look was a bit plain so i changed things up to make it more visually interesting^^ his accent colours are now pink and a slightly muted green (and i gave him some little flowery patterns here and there to spice things up) also gave him little elfish ears for a more idk… nymphlike look??? made him a lot rosier too :DD

and the biggest upgrade of all…
HE HAS SHOES NOW!!

idk why i didn’t give him shoes before, but now he has some!

It was quieter than she’d ever known it to be…

Elmira lay stiffly in her cot bed, hand creeping towards the dagger she kept buckled to her thigh and ears straining for the slightest sound outside her tent. She was met only with the sleepy calls of birds and the distant yap of some unknown beast – sounds as unfamiliar to her as peace, and as out of place in camp as laughter on a battlefield. It drove her to curl her fingers tight around the hilt of her dagger; to prop herself carefully on an elbow; to inspect the shadowed shapes beyond the tent with utmost care—

And to huff, sitting upright, as the simplest of facts thought through her mind’s tired haze.

Birds didn’t sing when there was something to disturb them. She’d never heard birds close to camp because her unit created too much noise and bustle for them to tolerate, and away from camp it had always been silence, and not lazy chirrups, that were a problem. Bird calls meant that there was nothing abroad; nothing amiss; nothing to fear.

And she wasn’t in camp anymore – nor even with her unit.

Slowly, Elmira uncurled her fingers from the dagger and slid from her cot bed, eying the tent’s canvas sides as she reached for her armour. A moment later she paused, fingertips resting on the stiff leather as she remembered that those well-worn pieces no longer had any real place in her life. She wasn’t a soldier anymore. She’d finally broken away from the unit that had raised her and found her own little space—her own sanctuary—and she was far from enemy and ally and battlefield alike. Today was the first day of a quieter life.

Somehow, it didn’t reassure her as it ought. It didn’t make it any easier to turn from her armour, either, and for a long moment she stood and stared at the pieces: experience at war with hope.

She was in the depths of the kingdom; in the depths of a forest; hidden from any who might hunt her.

She was in unfamiliar land; uncertain of the danger; alone for the first time in her life…

Armour, then, was sensible.

Elmira lifted the first piece, telling herself it was a reasonable precaution; that she could leave this fragment of the past behind once her new home was more secure and familiar. She donned it quickly and efficiently, fingers instinctively fastening buttons and buckles and a frown tugging at her lips as she relaxed into the stiff material; reassured by the cocoon it formed around her. She was meant to be a civilian now. She’d never before been unnerved by the prospect of not wearing armour. She’d never even considered straying into unknown lands without it…

Sighing, the woman absently buckled on her sword and then padded to the tent’s flaps; slid carefully out of it. Her eyes darted around the scraggily clearing almost of their own accord, and for several minutes she stood in the tent’s shadow and inspected every inch of the space around it, looking for anything out of place. Searching for any shadow or movement that didn’t seem to belong to tree or branch or bush – and stirring uneasily at each new noise.

…This wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought.

But she’d wanted this, so she stiffened her resolve and moved to tend to her horse; told herself to focus less on the unknowns, and more on the hopes…

Daichi’s new year!

New year, new Anfisa reference to reflect her new story arc! She’s in magical girl jail now.

Kol talking about his Tragic Life :( and how meeting his Hunter-girl has given him a new lease on life <3
Aaren restraining her blood lust in a truly saintly manner

Roy blinked, then blinked again, harder. The world was fuzzy and bright, appearing around him in blurred smears of color that slowly took shape and definition. Off-white, popcorn ceiling. Fluorescent light panels. A checkered blue and green… balloon?

He was lying down and didn’t remember how he’d made it here; it wasn’t his apartment, nor the temporary lean-to they’d erected in Olyar – *he’d been in Olyar*, but where…

“Welcome back, Cap.”

The voice startled him out of his confused reverie even as a familiar face crossed in front of the balloon.

“Chase?”

Not who he’d been expecting, if he was being honest, and from his expression, Gaven knew it. The younger man gave a gentle smile, no more than a quirk of his lips.

“So you can still recognize me. Doctors weren’t sure if you’d… well, it doesn’t matter, now, because you can.” He shifted and then held up a colorful card. “Everyone’s been worried about you.”

Roy let out a low breath, ignoring the card for the moment. “How long was I out?”

Gaven’s smile dripped off his face like wax, his hand lowering into his lap. He didn’t meet Roy’s eyes, never had been able to when it counted, and it was just as frustrating now as ever. Roy waited for the answer he knew he didn’t want to hear.

“A little over three weeks.”

He sighed, sinking backwards into the pillow. The memories were still blurry, but they were beginning to take shape, and there was something important he needed to recall… he had been responding to a threat… Roy’s eyes snapped open.

“And Tsiros…?”

Gaven looked at his hands.

“Alive, but…” he knotted his fingers together. “Not well. Neither were you.” Gaven’s gaze lifted to Roy’s again, expression plaintive.

“Are you, now?”

“Never better,” grumbled Roy, though he felt immediately repentant for the jab. “I’ll be fine. Where’s Ros?”

“Ah… she’s… Well, she isn’t here.”

Roy paused, searching Gaven’s face with a sharp expression. Surely, she hadn’t been hurt as well? The last thing he could remember, she’d been crouched over him looking no worse for wear. But if their assailant, if… if *Diego* had returned, or called for backup… he leaned forward, ignoring the icepick spike of pain in his skull as he grabbed Gaven’s wrist.

“What does that mean? Is she alright?”

“Yes, yes, she’s fine, she made it out without issue, it’s just…”

Roy felt himself sag with relief, head thumping painfully back against the pillow again.

“Fuck’s sake; you need to lead with that next time, Chase. Has she already returned to the field, then?”

“In a… manner of speaking.”

“What aren’t you saying? Spit it out already.”

“Lieutenant Eilen… Roslyre has been reassigned. She left a week ago.”

Roy blinked.

“Reassigned? But why would she be? Her enhancements have been tailored to our unit composition, and as we haven’t discovered…”

Gaven shifted uncomfortably. “Well, Cap… she’s been reassigned because we don’t have a unit anymore.”

“What?”

“You and Tsi lost your enhancements. You’re Anathemic. It shouldn’t be possible, nothing we’ve studied has suggested–”

“Don’t fuck around, Chase. I’m not like, like… whatever the hell you are. Whatever that bastard had on his blades may have done a number on my enhancements, but I was due for an upgrade anyway. Once I’m reinstalled…”

“That’s just it, Cap,” Gaven whispered; Roy hadn’t missed the way he’d flinched when he’d lashed out. But he couldn’t feel guilty about it, just then, not in the wake of the ringing in his ears, this building pressure of some looming doom…

“You can’t be reinstalled. This isn’t some one and done deal. You’re a carrier now; the first carrier who has been infected like this, you and Tsi, and any new enhancements they try to wire into you won’t take. They’ll melt right out of you again.”

some more vega content because he is sassy and yass
tried to convey his high and mighty attitude through his expression, like he’s looking down on whoever he’s talking to. he has a ginormous ego, he truly believes that this world is meant to revolve around him. (sorry for low quality image, lighting was quite poor when i took the picture :skull:)

Black Dog Tom was the scourge of the western side of the continent. He was a blight upon men. A man who refused to die, corrupted by his hatred for men and gods, Not once in the time he had been a Grudge had he felt a thing except for hatred and rage

His hands slick with silver blood. Galloping across the desert, keeping Vi tight in his arms as he
A bullet wound

“Don’t you fuckin’ die on me, Wisp.”

How this demigod had changed him

“C’mon, stay awake, Wisp.”

As his steed galloped across the dirt plains at a breakneck pace he held on tight to the slumped form of his partner pressed against his chest and bleeding across his hands and skin. His heart hadn’t beat in years, replaced with this hollowed out and blackened gash where it used to lay in his chest now only radiated darkness and heat. But right now it burned bright like an ember still holding on. Hoping and burning despite it all that the demigod, his demigod, his Wisp, his partner would pull on through.

“I can’t go on without, Wisp.” There wasn’t anything left in this world for him. Revenge would last him. But Vi? He had found some sort of happiness with the demigod. He just couldn’t. Not without him by his side.

He might not have seemed like on to care, but he did. He did now that it could all come undone.

Whatever’s happening, Pete is definitely not happy about it. :|

- created the adventure, set the number of players, and made it non-canon
- added some adventure tags
- set the one-line description
- wrote some text for the embark page
- set adventurer HP
- edited the status message text for the defeat command
- renamed node 1
- created item 1
- added a description for item 1
- created item 2
- renamed item 2
- write a description for item 2
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