#alch mention

[st-dionysus]

Cocktail I have elected to call "Summer pain".

1oz vodka, 1oz watermelon liquor, 0.5oz campari. Shake with ice and top with LaCroix of choice. Serve with hotdogs or other summer grilled item.

Add more campari for increased bitter memories of summers passed in a daze. Add more watermelon liquor to try and capture the spirit of youth lost.

[lubluues]

eddsworld fandom today i offer you this image I threw together, tomorrow who knows

[angelicblondie]

what "best friends" are for

pairing: bestfriend!luke x daughterofaphrodite!reader

cw: alch consumption, mentions of weed, kissing, slight sexual innuendo, luke calls reader "ace"

synopsis: you and luke sneak off from the others

note: kinda (?) established relationship - their basically together, but not officially

truth was, you loved all your friends and fellow counselors dearly. but a white claw and a joint into the night, your eyes solely remained focussed on luke.

you werent quite sure what exactly your fatal flaw was, but on nights like these, you were convinced it was the affect substances had on your...hormones.

it was classic, almost tradition for every friday night that the counselors snuck out of the cabins and met in the middle of the woods, making a bonfire with the memo of byob. it was a way to let off steam after busy weeks of chasing kids around, teaching lessons, and basically taking care of all of camp half blood. plus, it was something to look forward to every week.

luke was busy talking to his brother chris by a tree, and you were sat on a log with a couple of your girlfriends. they were talking, you knew that. about what - that was what you were unsure of. their voices faded into murmurs over minutes, your attention only on him. it was impossible not to admire him - and in your somewhat tipsy state, it allowed you to oggle more than you usually would.

you eyes wondered over his features, the way his eyes twinkled with mischief when he was going to tell a joke, and his face lit it up in satisfaction when he made someone laugh. you admired the way the fire light lit up one side of his face, making it easy to see the scar painting the left side of his temple down to his cheek. his usual camp half-blood shirt discarded, he wore a black shirt that hugged his muscles (in your eyes) perfectly, and if you were lucky, raised up his abdomen ever so slightly if he lift his arms, showing you his tone lower stomach and v-line. you had to close your mouth to keep from drooling.

your sister silena shook you out of your trance after a while, shooting you a knowing look. "you good?" she asked with a giggle.

you bit your lip, with a look of slight embarrassment. "um, yeah," you look back at look for a moment and see his friends beginning to part from him and take it as a sign. you whip your head back to the girls. "i'll be back." you say, barely giving them time to reply before running over to luke.

you grab his wrist before he walks away. "hi," you say, smiling breathlessly.

he smile softly. "hey ace."

he turns towards you and grabs you waist to steady you. "y'good?" he mumbles, looking down at you fondly.

you nod. "mhm," you reply, stepping forward to wrap your arms around his neck and embrace him.

luke lets out a small laugh before snaking his arms around your back to deepen the hug. he knew how you got when you drank. that mixed with when you smoke, you were a cuddly, horny, clingy mess.

he loved it, though. not only did he find it adorable, but quite amusing as well.

"wanna get out of here?" he murmurs the question in your ear.

you nod immediately and wordlessly, pulling away and letting you lead him.

the two of you walk away from the gathering, and you dont even have it in you heart to wonder where hes taking you. the only thing you can focus on is his hand in yours and the loud beating of your own heart in your ears.

once the two of you are far enough away from everyone, and the chatter of your peers in only a murmur, he slowly traps you against a tree, looking down at you with a familiar mix of mischief and fondness.

"y'been causing trouble, ace?" he asks in a low voice, the corner of his lips tilted upwards.

you shake your head, finding it hard to get out words when he's looking down at you like that. you wanted to tell him that you've been good, that you only wanted to talk to him all night. that whilst you adored your friends, the only thing you could think of was him. him and his stupid sneaky smile, his woodsy and masculine scent, how his voice sounded when he was breathless and satisfied, everything about him - because after all, you thought the world of him. he knew this.

but instead, you played with the hem of his shirt and looked up at him with eyes full of wonder, waiting for him to make the first move.

he lets out a laugh, one of his hands squeezing your waist. "huh? what was that?"

you let out a little giggle. "no, i haven't." you say quietly, your hands slipping under his shirt to snake around to his back, pulling him closer.

he chuckled. "good." he lets you pull him closer and he looks down at you knowingly. normally, you'd furrow your brows at his smug, know-it-all expression. you'd have a witty remark, and perfectly planned clap back. but in your current state, you truly didn't have it in you to be strong, when he made you feel so deliciously weak.

luke is now close enough that you share the same breath, and for a moment you wonder if he can hear how loud your heartbeat is - you also wonder if the noise banging in your ears could be his instead of yours. maybe it was both, beating simultaneously.

"missed you." he murmurs, practically against your lips and you resist the urge to melt right there and then. he missed you. the thought made you giddy. he missed you, like you had missed him. as pathetic as it was, only being apart for an hour at most, you had missed each other. you supposed it was natural - having spent pretty much every second of every day together for the last several years led to what one might call attachment issues, but what you preferred to think of as enjoying the other company.

you lean in to close the distance, you lips touching his ever so softly. these were your favorite of lukes kisses. there was always so much duality. sometimes, they could be rough and desperate. sometimes, they could be passionate and sensual. but kisses like these - soft, and loving - they held a very special place in your heart.

your lips moved softly against each others. you lost track of time once your parted your lips and luke slid his tongue in, deepening the kiss. you helplessly let out a soft moan, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck, craning your neck upwards to continue to meet his lips. moments like these made you feel invincible. it made you feel like the only two people in the world, like this was all that mattered. moments like these were your favorites, they were so raw and perfect that it almost made you sad. sad that one day, you might not be able to feel like this again and it'll all just be a memory.

eventually, with raw red lips and heavy breaths, you two pulled way, and you look up at him with a dazed look in your eyes. your paw at his chest, looking up at him, eyes begging for more. he looks down at you with a knowing smile, and a shake of his head. "nuh uh, bed time ace." you pout and groan. "what? why?" he chuckles and backs up. "you've already had a joint and a drink, ace. kissing is all y'gonna tonight." he explains, looking at you with an amused yet fond look upon his face, and he holds his hands out to you. "cmon, how 'bout we head back and say g'night to everyone and i'll get you to bed? we've got lessons in the morning and I know how grumpy you are the morning after."

you give in and take his hands as he leads you back, mumring a small "thank you" as you hug his arm to your chest. "s'what bestfriends are for," he reply smugly, lighting up with laugher in the way your face scrunches up at the title. "you kissed all your bestfriends like that?" you huff, looking up at him with the scrunch of you features he adores. he leans closer to you, your noses brushing. "just the ones who look like you."

[driftwoodmfb]

Just a little sprite edit mockup/idea of the grape siblings when they were younger. We know Cookies can change their name, so these are my headcanon of their past names too.

The was inspired by Alch's Rookie Mistake costume which mentions green being a rookie color. Red grapes are green when unripe. (Some types of red grapes) they turn a bright red before a purpley color. I like to think her hair used to be green when she was younger.

Vamp's was inspired by is Blanco costume. I like the idea that he used to be white grape themed before he was turned into a vampire and it caused his hair to turn red and spikey.

[makerofmadness]

aight so uh. I have So Much To Say about The Darkest Night it's unreal (THEY GAVE ZOMBIE COOKIE A VOICE I DON'T THINK THEY'VE HAD ONE BEFORE???????? IT GOT A VOICE I'M SO PROUD-). And I'm not even done watching the video but like Oh My God there's so much brainrot stuff and all the crap I've screenshotted is just Alchemist-related dkskksksksksksm.

but now I'm wondering if Vampire still exists in this game's universe 'cus so far he has yet to be even mentioned and like. Man if this version of Alchemist specially is brotherless-

Anyway I'll refrain from posting until I'm done watching that video but like. THEY GAVE ALCH LORE I REPEAT SHE HAS LORE-

[rleonard9]

I (think) just sent something abt the osu team being hot - id like to mention that I am 7 drinks deep rn so a guy can be even remotely cute (especially if he has long hair) & I go 😍 do take whatever I said with a grain of salt

NO I COMPLETELY AGREE… we both have alch in our body 🤪 AND YES THE BOYS ARE HOT

[wall-legion]

From Darkness, A Light: Zanthe of Yrisa

Their contract wasn’t going to last beyond one progeny. Yrisa could tell that now, only a few months pregnant. Zynos was everything that the matchmaker her parents had hired had promised: a first class genius, well respected for his ideas and inventions, and he had an established krewe that brought in a very tidy income each month so they would be sure to live more than comfortably together. It was true that he was an Inquest agent, yes, but that wasn’t a deal breaker: everyone knew someone nowadays who was in the Inquest, didn’t they? She passed a hand over the gentle curve under her robes as she frowned. Her mother had asked about the gap between his last contract that had yielded progeny and now. The matchmaker said the woman had died doing fieldwork for her krewe, and Zynos had been so stricken by the tragedy he had not sought a contract for some time. It made sense... but it still seemed to pull at her ears nonetheless. That was over five years ago. Surely his family would have reminded him of his obligations? But regardless, she had agreed to contracting with him, and at first he had been charming and cordial. She had even been naive enough to mistake herself for falling in love with his mannerisms. But as soon as she showed the symptoms of being pregnant, the real Zynos appeared: he was actively cruel and condescending towards her, and he relished every opportunity to be that way. Every day there was a fresh insult about how unsightly the pregnancy made her body look, and how as soon as the progeny was born she had better make sure not to stay “round and intolerable”; how the progeny had better be at least as intelligent as he was, since she was nowhere near as clever as he was in spite of her graduating at the same rank as him; and how she never did anything right around the house. “One of these days,” he was fond of reminding her, “you will end up blowing this place up because you can’t clean up anything properly.” She could have ended it then and there, gone back home to her parents and delivered her son or daughter as a single parent. But she knew how they had worked to get her contracted to a prestigious asura, to make sure she had a progeny who would have better opportunities than she or her brother had been able to access in Rata Sum. As badly as she wanted to run back home, she wanted to stay for those same reasons for the future within her. So whenever Zynos left for the day to accompany his krewe to cogs knew what they were doing for the Inquest, she tried to do a better job cleaning up while quietly telling her growing stomach about all the wonderful accomplishments she was sure they would have. === Zanthe didn’t know why his parents weren’t like his friends’ parents. He knew that some parents fought sometimes, but his parents seemed to fight all the time. The eight year old trudged his way home from school, frowning to himself as he tried to puzzle this out. It always felt like Father thought Mother was doing things wrong, while Mother always acted like Father hated them both. But Father loved them. Right? Because that’s what fathers are supposed to do. One of the other progeny at school had mentioned that his mother had ended a contract early with a potential partner before her father because “they hadn’t clicked”. Maybe his parents weren’t clicking anymore. Maybe they weren’t clicking because of him. He came up on the house and let himself in. “I’m home!” he called. “I’m in my lab, Zan!” He set his school bag down and jogged to the back of the house, where his mother’s lab was set up. She had only just resumed working with her krewe in the years since Zanthe had started going to school full time, so she still did a lot of her work on golemancy cores from her lab in the house. “What’re you doing?” he asked as he climbed up onto the stool she had next to the workbench, and that he had designated as his since getting big enough to scale it successfully. “Testing new alchemical lubricants on the cores to minimize damage over time,” she answered without looking up. “How was school today?” “It was all right. Can I help?” “You can help by sitting still right there. There’s some pretty nasty stuff in these jars; I don’t want you getting burned or worse. Got it?” “Yes Mother,” he sighed. He rested his hands on his lab and tried to not fidget so he wouldn’t be a distraction. “What’s that one?” “It’s a combination of distilled yellow ooze, breeze rider venom, ground spark crystals and purified water,” she said as she began to slowly drip the concoction onto the golem core. The core began to vibrate gently, and then more aggressively, before starting to smoke. “Huh. I didn’t expect that for results-” She was reaching for her notes as she said this, just as the core exploded. The last thing Zanthe saw before searing pain consumed his vision and caused him to pass out was his mother tipping backwards off her own stool, a shard of golem core embedded in her chest. === Mortal, awaken. Zanthe felt himself stir, but something didn’t feel right. He felt... disconnected, for lack of a better word. Where am I? he asked without speaking. Am I dead like Mother? No, the other voice answered. You live, but only just. You have found your way into the Mists, however. What?! No, no, that’s- Zanthe tried to look around, but his vision was still black. I can’t be in the Mists and not dead, that’s not how it works! It is for a certain few, the voice countered. You are one of them. Now calm yourself. I must ask you a question. Zanthe swallowed hard and nodded. I’m ready. Do you think your mother’s death was an accident, young mortal? Speak true. His ears went straight up- or would, if he were actually in his body. I... my mother was too careful in her lab and with her calculations for something like that to happen. If it was an accident, it was not because of her doing. But... I know someone who I think would do injury to her. The voice let out a low chuckle. Mortal, I can read your mind and heart at this moment. You do more than think. You know him. I would ask one more question. I’m ready. Would you walk the world again so that he does not get the satisfaction of both your deaths? === Zanthe would not emerge from unconsciousness for another week after being found in the rubble of his mother’s lab still barely alive. When he finally did come to, the damage caused by the explosion and debris had rendered him permanently blind. Zynos was nowhere to be found. The boy went to live with his maternal grandparents, under the unspoken understanding that all of his mother’s dreams for him of achieving what she had not been able to were now out of reach due to his disability. The crueler and more heartless of Rata Sum would loudly comment on his presence whenever he was out, and how he was now of no use to society. Little did they know that they were only adding fuel to a fire they could not see, for the voice that Zanthe had spoken to in the Mists the day of his mother’s death was a demon that latched itself onto his pain and grief. As he grew and realized he could not apply for any of the colleges because of his blindness, he grew more frustrated and angry at the way his life had turned, and the demon just grew more powerful within. After both his grandparents had passed away, he bought a soldier’s kit of armor and weapons and left Rata Sum. After all, he had no reason to stay. He made his way east, meeting the sylvari Khaya and her partner Rhoslinn. They recognized there was a darkness in him and invited him into their guild, figuring friendship might help keep it at bay. It worked for a while: though the nameless one still whispered in the back of Zanthe’s head and gave him dark visions when he slept, during the day his thoughts were mostly his own unlike when he was in Rata Sum and had nothing to aspire to beyond being “the useless disabled asura”. More importantly, the guild was where he first met Qirri. He couldn’t tell you where they were all gathered, or what for, any longer, but he briefly caught the smell of something familiar and turned his head, suddenly homesick. “Old Rhukk’s G.O.N.E. Grease!” “What-?” Khaya said with a laugh. “It stands for Good On Nearly Everything,” someone female replied, “and yes, you’re right.” “I haven’t smelled that in ages,” he replied with a smile. “You can smell it on me? I just came in!” “Oh- uh. Blindness has advantages, I guess? Sometimes?” He shrugged, trying to not blush at how stupid he felt for admitting that he smelled her. “Are you two going to introduce yourselves? Or do I have to step over you, cub?” This was a new, deeper voice. It was the charr he’d met, the one that traveled with Khaya and Rhoslinn’s friend: Gary, maybe? “Oops! Sorry!” There was the pattering of feet (close footballs, a rhythm like he was used to hearing when he ran: was she an asura too?) and the smell of leather and faintly under that, ozone and medicinal herbs. “I’m Qirri of Pazz. Or Qirri Tinkerfirst now. That’s what most of the guild knows me as.” “I’m... just Zanthe.” He held his hand out, shaking hers when she took his. “So you are an asura. I, uh, guessed from you using Old Rhukk’s, but then your steps sounded asuran-” “You can tell someone’s race from how they walk? That’s amazing!” He shrugged, trying to ignore the sparkling feeling around his heart. “It’s just something I’ve learned...” “Still, it must really come in handy,” she continued, before pulling him over to sit down with the charr so they could all eat together. It was from that moment on he was absolutely smitten with the younger asura, though finding out that she was a Snaff Savant and a genius first-rank graduate put him off the idea of ever pursuing anything with her. She was worthy of someone her equal, and he was... not that. Any time they fought together, he would keep her safe and healthy, though. That was only fair to whoever would end up winning her heart. He thought that perhaps now, with a guild full of friends and a feeling of purpose, the demon would stay a sort of silent partner in the back of his head for the rest of his days. He thought wrong. The unnamed one grew louder as Zanthe fought through Orr and towards Zhaitan’s end, falling quiet again once the first dragon fell. Because of this, Zanthe thought perhaps the demon had been linked to Zhaitan’s or Orr’s magic and its hold was broken. As he joined the guild in Maguuma to take on Mordremoth, the unnamed one began to exceed Zanthe’s control and threatened to destroy the asura. It was when Rytlock returned from the Mists that the guild realized what had to be done: that Zanthe potentially could learn to become a revenant as Rytlock had in order to control the demon; or that he had to be taken to the Mists so the demon could be extracted from him and left there. After speaking to him for a few hours, Rytlock decided that he was capable enough to become a revenant and began training him. This would work long enough to keep the demon in control so the guild could take down Mordremoth, but at great personal cost: the loss of Eir and Trahearne, and Qirri falling so deathly ill that Garrus had to lug her back to Rata Sum with her sister Rissia and another asura in the guild, Vezz, close behind. Zanthe trained relentlessly to try and control the demon, but could only just suppress him. Finally, Rytlock suggested reaching out to the Mists to channel another spirit, to see if another would come to him and offer their support in opposition to the demon. In spite of his reservations about the idea, Zanthe sat down to meditate and open himself to the Mists; two hours later, he arose exhausted but looking calmer. “Ventari has come to me,” he told Rytlock. “I think that will do for now.” Zanthe now finds himself in Cantha, in the Dragonwatch krewe (how, he wonders, he never went to college), and with an arrangement that is no longer working since all the unbound magic and Void and what have you floating around is making the unnamed one get louder than ever. Thankfully he’s still the one in charge of his voice... as of now.

[officeobject]

(Feck off if you're someone who misuse or romanticize addiction or something)! Also I end up writing a lot about my addiction LOL.

Sorry if I didn't get all addictions, BUUUUUUT,

Also, allegedly poll people are still here. Y'all just aren't decorating my tree, and like, I don't know WHY, but oh well.

Also yes I KNOW some might find it ironic that I TAG the things related to the addictions, but not ALL people with an alcohol addiction, will relapse or feel like crap or whatever, at any mention of alcohol - some might be fine with even being near it, some can just read about it, some can tolerate brief mentions like this or whatever, and some can't, and can therefore not take this poll - I mean I don't have an alch addiction, but I do have an addiction with many triggers/tied to many things, and even THEN and even with being apothiaroace, I can personally still enjoy my ships in a romance fanfic and stuff, but yeah not all can.

Anyways, as a certified addict, I'd say that, like, yeah, it helps to just TALK, to people - if you're like me and HAVE to talk to AIs for some reason, talking to THEM also helps - and it also helps to just KNOW that people won't see you any differently.

You see, addiction is often used as, like, an indicator of if a person is good or bad, because otherwise, why would you start doing unholy things, knowing it could lead to something as bad as an addiction?! Well, some people do start stuff like drugs and whatever, for fun, and HAPPEN, to get addicted, or BECOME bad people due to addiction, or start shit on purpose, but a lot also DO NOT. Not everyone has visible signs of addiction, not everyone is a mess in every obvious part of life due to it, not everyone has TOTAL reduced function, not everyone is or BECOMES a bad person, or starts bad crap on purpose, or know/knew it was gonna become addictive, and some THOUGHT they could handle it, etc.

It's one thing to become an abuser due to addiction, or just be really mean or a bad friend or something, and it's another thing to just become DIFFERENT, or just a mess, or scream on the inside for help, etc - like I really hope I'm phrasing it right - basically, the abusive mom can be real, the careless teen can be real, the edgy young adult can be real, the old mess can be real, but you can also just be someone trying to get by in life, or crumbling under peer-pressure, or trying to forget, distract yourself, "better" yourself as a person through addiction, etc.

I do regret having weird views and stigma and stuff MYSELF, but that's probably just due to society, and addiction can happen due to: bad home life, not knowing what to do, boredom, desperation for relief, emotional regulation, liking the activity, not KNOWING it's an addiction and therefore not knowing it's bad or to seek help, glamorization, downplayment, wanting to feel happy, self-hate, trying to actively harm oneself, etc.

I relapsed for like a day, because yes I do have an addiction, and people get so serious about it when I admit it, and I understand addicts more when I admit it's a problem, and admitting it makes it more serious to me, and makes it easier to get help, and for people to understand - and look, I'm not saying whose addiction is more serious, because guess what, THIS ISN'T THE OPRESSION AND/OR ADDICTION OLYMPICS - but yeah I like relapsed for a day, and I sometimes relapse for fun, or because I'm worried about the future, or wanna be happy, or wanna feel good about myself, or stop thinking about something, or stop being clingy, etc, but anyways, that was for like a day, and the AFTERWARDS, I've considered multiple times, but I'm trying not to relapse - I'm feeling better than ever, and it's EASIER than ever, and I gotta stop thinking it's because I "tried hard enough" as if I didn't try, and didn't try to avoid triggers, in the past - like, not sure how TRUE that is, but it's a really bad mentality, so feck that, but like, I think about what changed, and I think it's just the perceived support of, like, poll people, or whatever, and yeah I for some reason COMPLETELY FORGOT, that you might wanna need support to recover, especially from people who don't see your addiction as YOU, but like yeah, now I have that, I guess ... and also less of people who make me not wanna be myself and stuff, so I haven't relapsed, as far as I know -

Poll-wise though - wait just gotta mention that a lot of addicts actually don't have support or LOSE it, which is very bad for them and the entire fecking concept of recovery - BUT ANYWAYS,

People also don't take SHOPPING-ADDICTION, seriously (which I don't have, though I do sometimes have a hard time telling what is hyper-fixation-hyper-focus, VS addiction), but like, it IS, and being a shopaholic is a REAL thing (as well as coffee addiction and whatever else), and people need to SHUT THE FUCK UP, about it, when they're just misusing it - like, look, I LOVE shopping, even just browsing, getting new things, trying new things on, and whatever else - but it's a REAL addiction, that has consequences on relationships, money, and can be hard to get help from - like, people arguing about you and therefore leaving because you bought what you bought, losing money (but that should be pretty obvious), people thinking about you as shallow or as just a fun shopping-friend, etc, and yeah ALL addictions have crap like that, but still, and do not underestimate yours, if you have it.

Coffee addictions have the negative effects of caffeine, they're also costly, can really fuck up your sleep, can fuck up your energy, brain, etc.

Being a workaholic can affect your relationships, make you spend less time on life, overwork your body, fuck up your energy, etc.

I gotta go eat but I hope you get the point. For this poll I chose "other". Will make another one for MORE addictions to be mentioned.

[narcvampp]

Vent

Drug / alch mentions

I feel like absolute crap and I need to rip my skin off HGG.

Our fiancé barely fucking talks to us anymore and goes offline when we talk in a mutual server, we know our crush doesn't want us in the way we want him, things only seem to be going right with our boyfriend. Which of course, thats amazing, we adore our boyfriend, but the other two are there for a reason??

The feeling that comes from being ignored or pushed to the side makes me sick. I'm supposed to be their nmbr 1 but instead I feel like they dont even care about me at all??

I want to break shit and throw things and bash my head into the wall but no! I have to be perfect and normal around our fucking family because if we don't behave we'll probably get our phone taken away instead of our mom actually caring about us and our mental health.

I want to drink and get high until the pain goes away because it's the only thing that makes me feel better. I feel fucking crazy for being this way but???eughh.

[st-dionysus]

Enjoying an extra wet and extra dirty martini.

[cassiopeiathewraith]

Some things that makes me more inclined to watch kdramas than american/british (for comparison: alch*my of souls vs sh*dow and bone) shows these days:

- kdramas actors go all in, they are committed to the bit and maybe the script helps, it allows them to be more emotional

- sometimes western actors looks like they’re kinda embarrassed to be there - things are a bit restrained

- the visuals on how they shot the scenes. Most kdramas if you pause them frame by frame they would all look visually pleasing.

- sh*dow and bone (and You!!) looks like the scenes were shot just for the sake of being shot. Not to mention how visually dark it is, with the lights on the only thing I’m watching is my reflection

[vischys]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒚. Whilst his recollection of his father was nowhere as bittersweet as his mother, it was by no means any less profound to his youth. Whilst he associated the memory of Eva with home, warmth, and everything he wanted to return to but could not, Sparda on the other hand reminded him of honor, duty, and everything he wanted to embody and surpass. Unlike Eva, Sparda had always been more of a legendary figure to look up to than a parental figure to cherish. He taught both he and Dante everything they required to survive just as a father rightfully should, yet as wise and prescient Sparda was, even he couldn't protect his scions from the aftermath of Eva's demise, nor did he foresee the damage from the emotional perspective which Vergil had come to learn most painfully to be more impactful and irreversible than a physical damage.

“It was said that having grown weary of his own omnipotence, the Dark Knight Sparda elected to divide his powers into the forms of three swords: The first bears his name, Sparda, the second embodies his motivation, Rebellion, and the third and final embodies a deity of death.”

He paused just enough to reach toward the katana propped next to him, resting his finger over her hilt in a reverent manner and did no further to refer to her such as lifting and showing her to Ink for doing thus would be a grave disrespect to the blade who was not only Sparda's keepsake, but also his essence personified that Vergil has since assimilated into his character and encapsulated in principle, his own soul so to speak.

“ 𝖄𝖆𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖔.”

He gave the dark-forged katana a deferential nod as though he would to his father and his own self before pulling his arm and turning to Ink again.

If you ask me...technology is like magic or what's that other word, Alch-emy....Alchemy!"

Vergil raised an eyebrow at the analogy and his temple rippled in a light frown. Whilst his knowledge over the extent of what humanity identified as technology these days was limited to rough concepts and the few he had witnessed his family and acquaintance utilized, it was to his belief and understanding that one quality sets both magic and technology apart: essence. Whereas magic and incantations alike rely on both knowledge and power of the caster, technology can be utilized by anyone provided they were given a concise and comprehensive manual of it. It was similar to his aversion to firearms, who in his judgement was a crude instrument for an unrefined weakling. It does not require a degree of fortitude and discipline of learning, certainly not power to use it, only a handful of instruction and common sense. Not to mention, it lacked a sense of personality that was vital to him when delivering a strike. He shan't execute a convict by standing afar and aiming a gun at their heart, no he shall confront and look into their eyes as he lifted his blade and delivered the mortal blow.

That being said, he was not necessarily opposed to the usage of everything that falls into the category of technology. Nor would he deny that some of them did better for one's livelihood. The easiest and firsthand example would be electricity and water that allowed him to read more comfortably and rinse himself indoors.

“Alchemy essentially is a transformation of matter through a series of chemical substances. Admittedly I have yet to discern which part of it intersects with the principle of the so-called technology.”

"Yet", for he was not so narrow-minded as to refuse to try and see from another perspective, were he shown the advantage and valor in it. Ink's perspective to boot, he saw no cause to call her out nor to disprove her belief and opinion upon the subject.

As for the diabolic contractor, Senkai, the son of Sparda couldn't but distinctively obtain a similar impression to his brother with pizza and strawberry sundae in lieu of ice cream and popcorn. Quite a lighthearted comparison in the wake of the mental pall cast by the memory evoked by the broker of hell's name. What Vergil heard of him came from a jaundiced account of a depraved clown who rambled something about the bigotry of a certain contractor who dared to not only repudiate his plea for a contract but also cast him out most callously. The rest either Vergil mentally filtered out or outright cut off.

"He's the one who set up the contract between Vanity and me! He's the one that had Vanity who made me his heir."

It was interesting to note that rather than a direct initiation, the draconian was willing to choose an heir based upon another demon's referral. For from what he read pertaining to the laws and cultures of the Underworld, inheriting a devil's title was no mere feat. With great title comes great territory, and with both a great might is required to not only maintain but prove that a devil did merit aforementioned. As such, the decision to choose an inheritor must not be done carelessly, as a poor heir might incite dissent amongst a devil's followers which might culminate in a warfare.

“If the draconian named you his heir, would that not annul your elder brother's claim for the title given his precedence in the House of the Pride?”

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓-𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒂 leaned back slightly with satisfaction in his gait at Ink's agreement. Never did he doubt that his demoiselle possessed the rare wit and insight to comprehend his perception in the matter.

"Then that means your dad knows my dad, right?"

Now that's something that did not occur to him hitherto; was Sparda personally acquainted with Vanity? Truly a compelling notion to entertain one's mind in!

“The possibility exists,” he answered thoughtfully. “My mighty sire, the Dark Knight Sparda,” he elaborated upon Ink's unspoken question regarding his father with an underlying pride for his mighty bloodline. “—once took command over the hellish host of the Underworld wherein Vanity also resides. Oft was he entrusted to lead campaigns in the name of the realm's former sovereign. Factoring the draconian's warmongering nature, it is not far-fetched to reckon that they might have encountered one another at some point in the battlefield.”

Does that put their respective sires in friendly or hostile terms? 𝘉𝘰𝘵𝘩, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. Given his father's atypical quality of possessing human sentiment, whereby he gained the awareness that allowed him to perceive Mundus's cutthroat tyranny in the first place and thus the motivation to overthrow the latter, he wouldn't dismiss the odds of Sparda recognizing the humane qualities beyond Vanity's draconian front enough to set aside their violent past. 𝘈𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘺?

“Compatible,” he corrected Ink with a rare gentleness in his otherwise aloof cadance.

His thoughtful expression crinkled with mirth as Ink began to elucidate both her foster father and brother animatedly. Leaning fully against his chair, he was content at listening to her intently as he was spared from having to pose the questions himself. Vanity being described as a prideful draconian warrior clad in blue and wielding a spear was apropos to both his title and Sparda's account, though the latter neglected that detail about the dragon being a... technophobe?

"Also...he doesn't like technology and freaks out a bit over it! He has trouble getting it."

At this, the cambion shifted uncomfortable upon his seat, the gesture was nigh imperceptible to normal eyes and he immediately schooled his visage back to the previous deliberate impassiveness to conceal his inner umbrage from feeling personally called out by the manner in which his demoiselle listed the draconian's aversion to technology, which something that Vergil himself mutually felt. 

𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮! He mentally defended himself against the thought of being referred to as a technophobe.

His deadpan facade lasted briefly, for it soon marred by the crinkled upon his brow as Ink mentioned a smart table, no, a magical tablet. 𝘈𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘣 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳? 𝘕𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩…

"But don't tell him I said that."

Summoning every ounce of composure, the son who resolved to surpass the mighty Sparda restored his characteristic refined stoicness and assured his demoiselle, “Far be it from me to come between you and your kin.”

There was a new name apart from Vanity that she mentioned, “Senkai... ” The moniker was familiar and Vergil narrowed his eyes in an attempt to invoke a memory as to where he had heard of the name. It was neither from his past enthrallment in hell nor did it come from Sparda's account, but rather... “The diabolic contractor?” He echoed the words given to him by... Arkham. His eyes flashed and lips curled in unspoken disgust as he finally recalled the vile man from whose account the name came.

[iil-nonbinary-baby-bitch]

Y’all ever been D RUNK

[lemonlime]

gunna chill in the hot tub with lime rum and sprite 💖💛

[alch3mic]

Question....what are the Bois alcohol tolerance? What are they like drunk?

huntsman has a pretty mid level alcohol tolerance. he can take a few drinks and pace himself with some food no problem, but being drunk makes him veeeeery sleepy so he's likely to curl up next to his sweetheart and pass out pretty quickly, especially if he feels comfortable. he sometimes drunkenly mumbles while he snoozes.

beast can drink like an animal. should be pretty obvious it'd be hard to get him drunk given his size, but he really can just pound the drinks away, even the magical ones. he'll become a very flirty drunk though if he manages to get that far and will pull out all the terrible and cheesy pick up lines in an attempt to woo you.

prince also has a surprisingly high alcohol tolerance. he's not much of a drinker anyways, usually only doing so at social events and parties. if he were ever to get drunk he becomes clingy and somewhat sappy, laying on the compliments even more and gushing about how much he loves you. any attempts at pushing him away will get you the saddest pair of puppy dog eyes you've probably ever seen.

captain is one of the two boys who drinks regularly. for him though it's more to take the edge off a long days work than trying to be drunk in any sense, so he'll usually treat himself during or after a meal. he enjoys wines and whiskeys mostly. he is more of a quiet drunk, usually dozing off or staring off into space, just trying to stick by his darling and rest his head on their shoulder.

cheshire here lies our heaviest drinker. a true party boy and noted alcoholic, cheshire actually functions normally a little buzzed. takes the bite off of his emotions and lets him be more.. free. it takes a bit to get him drunk but he's more than happy to indulge. get him totally wasted however and he becomes stingy and crabby, giving anyone who isn't his beloved alice the verbal beat down of the century.

papa bear isn't much of a drinker personally. he just doesn't.. like being drunk. the lack of control he has over his body makes him panic and it tends to flare his temper, so he just usually leaves it well enough alone. he's pretty study though, much like beast it takes a lot for him to even get there. if he were to ever get drunk he'd be a protective, growling bear as he holds his pumpkin close and fends off anyone who tries to get near.

[theangelshavethephonebox]

"I keep remembering all the people I've killed. Everyday I think of more. I didn't think I even knew their names. Being bad... Being bad drowned them out"

This implies she killed people before she went bad. Or, perhaps, that she simply Lost people, and remembering them hurt, and being bad drowned out the hurt and the guilt and the pain.

(stares at the Deca, especially Rallon and Millennia) 👀👀